A Treacherous Treasure

by Leighann Dobbs

  “You’re sure it was her?” Claire asked. “I mean, you said it was raining, and visibility would have been bad.”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Alice said. “I’m not blind, you know. I recognized her umbrella right away, you know, the pretty one with those three-dimensional flowers around the edge. But Mari didn’t answer her door, so Jane left.”

  Claire looked relieved, but Dom wasn’t so sure. Had Jane really left, or did she gain entry some other way? That was silly. He knew Jane couldn’t kill anyone despite the evidence pointing to her.

  But would the police see it that way?

  12

  Later that morning, Claire stood in her garden, snapping the branches of one of her rose bushes off violently with her pruning shears. The bush had grown a bit wild over the winter and was blocking the view of the ocean from her favorite bench. She’d been wanting to cut it back and trim it so that the plant was more pleasantly shaped for several weeks now. But she wasn’t paying very much attention to what she was doing, her mind on the disturbing discovery of Mari Wilkinson’s body.

  Alice’s confession that she’d seen Jane at Mari’s door had disturbed Claire, and she wondered if Dom had noticed how upset she’d been when Alice had mentioned Jane’s name. Of course he had. He noticed everything. He was just too considerate to voice what they both knew—a lot of the clues implicated Jane.

  But that wasn’t the thing that bothered her the most. The thing that bothered her the most was that she’d been so focused on trying to figure out who on the island—besides Jane—could be the killer that she’d overlooked the important clue that a young woman had visited Elbert’s locker.

  It was no coincidence that the woman had the same description as the one driving the Greenbriar van. But who was this woman, and did she have something to do with Elbert’s death? Was she the one who had cleaned out the storage unit? The red pebbles left inside could be a link to Greenbriar after all.

  Claire sighed and brushed a gray curl out of her eye with the back of her hand. She stepped back to get a look at her handiwork.

  “Darn it all!” The bush looked more like a bonsai experiment gone wrong than the rounded shape she’d been going for. Perhaps now was not the time to be trimming plants.

  Claire put down the shears. She was too distracted for this type of meticulous garden work. Instead of tending to her garden, she should be looking into the mysterious brunette. Maybe now that she suspected the mystery woman was connected to Greenbriar, she could make some calls and find out who she was.

  She stripped off her gardening gloves and put the hedge clipper away in the toolshed. As she walked across the patio and through the open French doors into the living room, she heard a panicked knocking coming from her door.

  “Hold your horses! I’m coming!” Claire rushed over the door. Whoever was on the other side must be desperate to talk to her. Was it Dom? Maybe there had been a breakthrough in the case.

  She cracked the door open and looked out at Robby. His hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his hands through it, and his foot tapped nervously on the stoop.

  “Robby, what’s going on?” Claire asked.

  “Can I come in?” He glanced over his shoulder as if expecting someone to come up behind him.

  “Of course.” Claire opened the door wide, and Robby lurched inside. “Can I get you something to drink? I still have a few of those brownies left over.”

  “No thanks. I’m good.”

  Claire studied her nephew. He certainly didn’t look good. He looked worried and like he hadn’t slept in days. A pang of sympathy shot through her. Having worked in Boston for most of her career, she was used to violent crime. But here on the island, most crimes were nonviolent. With the discovery of Elbert’s body and now Mari’s murder, Robby might be in over his head.

  “Auntie, I know I shouldn’t be here, but I need your help.”

  “What can I help with?”

  “Do you think Mari’s murder was really connected to Elbert's?”

  “It seems that way,” Claire said cautiously. She didn’t know how much Robby knew of the treasure-hunting club and wasn’t sure what information she should share with him. It wasn’t Robby so much that she was worried about, but she knew whatever she told him would be used in the investigation and make its way back to Zambuco.

  “That’s what I was afraid of. I have to admit, I don’t know what to do. We’ve never had a killing spree before. I don’t know how to control it.” Robby looked almost ready to cry.

  “I hardly think you could call two murders spaced sixty years apart a killing spree,” Claire pointed out.

  Robby scrubbed his hand through his hair, causing it to look even wilder. “You heard the crowd at Mari’s earlier. They were ready to attack! If I don’t do something, I don’t know what will happen.”

  “Okay, okay. Calm down.” Claire led Robby to the sofa, and he sank into the deep cushions. She perched on the edge of the chair across from him. “People can sense when you panic, and it will just cause them to worry, so you have to present a calm front.”

  “I know, but I’m not sure what to do. That’s why I came to you for help. You’ve seen stuff like this before.”

  Claire’s brows tugged together. “Are you asking me to consult with you officially? Did Zambuco say this was okay?”

  “No, but…I don’t know what else to do.”

  Claire chewed her bottom lip. This could be her chance to get some insider information on the case and help her nephew at the same time. She laid her hand on Robby’s arm. “It’ll be okay. I’m already conducting my own investigation with Dom, if you must know.”

  “Then you’ll help?”

  “Of course. But I’ll need you to help me so I can help you.”

  Robby’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Dom and I need information to speed up our investigation.” Claire sat back in her chair. “I think we might be able to help you catch your killer if we could have one hour uninterrupted in Mari Wilkinson's house.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if Zambuco would let—”

  “He doesn’t need to know. But we do need to get in there if you want us to help you.”

  “Okay, well, I guess I could arrange that,” Robby said hesitantly.

  “And we’ll need to know everything you know about the murder case so far, including when Mari died.”

  “I don’t know much right now. The techs just got done going through the house for DNA and fingerprint evidence. We didn’t find the murder weapon in the house. It appears as though she was bludgeoned to death. The ME estimates time of death between seven and eight last night.”

  Dread bloomed in Claire's chest as she digested Robby's words. When had Alice seen the Greenbriar shuttle? Claire didn’t think she’d mentioned a specific time, but she remembered her saying it was late afternoon. There was a big stretch between late afternoon and around seven in the evening. The sun set at half past seven, so surely Alice wouldn’t call that late afternoon. But Alice had made reference to someone she’d seen there right after the sun had set.

  That person was Jane.

  13

  Mari Wilkinson’s house still looked the same as it had when she and Dom had visited the day before, but to Claire, it seemed much sadder and emptier today.

  After Robby had agreed to let them into the house, she hadn’t wasted a second. She’d called Dom, and the three of them headed over right away. She didn’t want to give Robby any time to change his mind.

  Robby didn’t want anyone to see them going in, so he'd driven his car to Mari's and parked out front as if on official police business, while Claire and Dom walked down from Claire’s, cutting through the neighbor’s backyard and approaching the house from the back. Robby lifted the yellow crime scene tape that was strung around the small back porch, and Claire ducked under.

  Robby leveled her a look as he opened the kitchen door for them. “Don’t disturb anything.”

  “We’ve done thi
s a time or two before, you know,” Claire said.

  “I know.” Robby glanced around as if to reassure himself that they hadn’t been spotted. “You have an hour, maybe less. I’ll keep watch.”

  Dom and Claire hurried inside without speaking. They’d decided their plan of attack on the phone earlier. Dom was to inspect the crime scene—Mari's living room—and Claire was to look for the brooch and pictures Mari had mentioned earlier.

  Inside, Dom walked straight to the living room, and Claire headed down the hall. She didn’t know which bedroom was Mari’s, but she figured it wouldn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure that out. She expected to find the queen-size bed and old pine dressers. What she didn’t expect was the chaos that surrounded them.

  The entire room was thrown askew. Drawers pulled out and clothes on the floor. The jewelry box was dumped on the bed, its contents spilled all over the colorful quilt.

  Did the killer do this, or was Mari just a messy housekeeper?

  The rest of the house was neatly kept. It must have been the killer unless Mari was one of those that was neat in the public living areas and messy in private.

  Claire took a deep breath and entered the room. There was something about going through the belongings of the dead that creeped her out, but she needed to look for the brooch and the photos. She pulled her lime-green gardening gloves out of her pocket. Though she didn’t think leaving her fingerprints would be a problem, it was an old habit from her crime scene investigating days.

  Approaching the bed, she bent over to survey the mess. It was a jumble of jewelry, mostly newer, none of it particularly valuable. She moved the pieces around carefully with her index finger but did not find an old, dirty brooch.

  She turned her attention to the rest of the room. She inspected the drawers, the closet, she even looked in the small drawer of the nightstand, but no old photos or brooches were to be found.

  Had the killer taken the photos, too? Or had Mari never gotten the chance to dredge them up from the basement?

  Claire went back to the living room to find Dom rubbing his eyebrow and staring at Mari’s chair.

  He turned to her. “Anything?”

  “I didn’t find a brooch, but someone searched Mari’s room. It’s a mess in there.”

  Dom’s brows shot up. He stepped past her down the hall to see for himself. He moved to the middle of the room and quietly looked over the mess. Claire tried not to feel put out. She’d already searched in there. Did he think he could find something she hadn’t? Then again, he often did.

  “A hasty search. They didn’t have much time, it seems,” Dom said. “Or they found what they came for quickly.”

  “The brooch,” Claire said. “So Mari’s murder does tie into the treasure.”

  “It would seem that way, unless the brooch wasn’t in her jewelry box, and the killer was looking for something else.”

  “Or Mari kept a really messy bedroom,” Claire said. “What do you make of the crime scene?”

  “Come and I’ll show you.”

  Claire bit back a sarcastic remark as Dom led the way to the living room. He loved showing off his theories with detailed—and sometimes boring—explanations. It wasn’t that Claire didn’t want to learn more about interpreting the physical clues, it was just that sometimes it seemed like Dom was a tad bit full of himself.

  Dom pointed to the wall behind the chair, which was dotted with a spray of blood.

  “The pattern suggests that whatever Mari was struck with was wielded from above the head, probably by someone who was on the tall side. But the blows were not dealt too forcefully.” Dom raised his clasped hands just above his head and brought them down, mimicking the action. “Mari was older and a bit frail. She likely could not fight them off. But the fact that she was sitting in the chair indicates that she had invited them into her home.”

  “So she knew her killer.” Claire said it as a statement.

  “It would seem so.”

  “And the killer was tall?” Claire asked. Most of their suspects were tall. But not Jane. “Would Benjamin or Quentin have the strength to bludgeon her?”

  Dom pinched his chin. “I think so. They are elderly men, but Benjamin exhibited much vigor in his protest of the digging, and Quentin seemed rather fit. It wouldn’t take much force.”

  She hated to think that one of the islanders, especially Bill or Quentin, who knew Mari, would kill her in such a violent manner. Her thoughts turned to the young woman who had been seen at the storage unit and here at Mari’s house.

  But that couldn’t be right. Claire knew in her gut that Elbert’s murder and Mari’s murder were connected, and they both had something to do with the treasure. The woman who kept cropping up in the investigation was too young to have killed Elbert.

  “Ten more minutes,” Robbie yelled in the door, spurring Claire and Dom into action.

  “You didn’t find the photographs Mari mentioned?” Dom asked.

  “No. Either the killer took them or they’re still down in the basement.” Claire opened the basement door and gestured for Dom to precede her.

  The two of them climbed down the rickety wooden stairs, the smell of mold growing stronger as they descended. “It’s damp down here. I hope these old pictures haven’t been destroyed by mildew.”

  “Hopefully, if they are here, we’ll still be able to make out what is in them.” Dom stood in the middle of the basement. Boxes were piled up around all the walls. “Where do we start?”

  “The pictures would’ve been from sixty years ago, so we should start towards the back. That’s where the older things would be stored.” Claire felt a perverse pleasure that this time she was instructing Dom as to what to do. She picked her way to the far wall, shoving boxes out of her path as she went.

  She rummaged quickly, opening the tops of the boxes and peering inside. Kitchenware. Old linens. Boxes of decades-old baby toys. Finally, she opened a box to find stacks of loose photos.

  ”In here!”

  Dom came over to join her, and they sorted through the box, picking up handfuls of photos and flipping through quickly.

  “Look!”

  Dom held a pile of old Polaroids. The pictures were yellowed with age, the colors melded into muted shades of sepia, but you could clearly make out the subject matter.

  One showed younger versions of Bill, Quentin, Elbert, and Benjamin proudly holding metal detectors. Another showed Bill and Quentin digging something out of the ground. In the third picture, a smiling Elbert held up an old coin.

  But it was the fourth picture that caught their interest. This picture showed the interior of the storage unit with a man inside. Not Bill, Elbert, Quentin, or Benjamin. It looked like he was inspecting the equipment. In his right hand, he held a clipboard.

  Claire’s stomach swooped.

  “That could be the silent partner. Turn it over. Maybe his name is written on the back,” Dom said.

  “I don’t need to. That’s Charlie Kuhn, Jane’s father.”

  * * *

  Dom thought about the picture as they made their way back up the stairs. It was just a picture, certainly not proof that Charlie Kuhn was the silent partner. But Dom’s gut told him that Charlie was the fifth member. It was evident by the way the man was clearly inventorying the equipment in the photo. And judging by the tight look on Claire’s face, she had come to the same conclusion.

  That didn’t mean that Charlie was the killer or that Jane was running around town taking steps to cover that fact up. Did it?

  Jane had recently come into money. Jane had been seen at Mari’s door last night right around the time she was killed. Jane visited Greenbriar frequently and probably took her mother to the meditation garden, and Jane was seen at the storage facility.

  Even with these clues pointing to Jane, Dom didn’t believe she was a killer. Dom didn’t have the skills to analyze behavior like Claire did, but he was pretty good at reading people. He’d put dozens of killers behind bars, and he knew Jane was no killer.
He’d stake his reputation on it.

  Which meant they had to find the real killer before the police added up the clues and started looking at Jane.

  Robby was waiting for them outside the kitchen door with a hopeful expression on his face. “Did you find anything?”

  “No,” Claire said.

  Dom slid his eyes over to her and added, “Nothing that you probably don’t already know. We think the killer must be tall or have wielded a weapon easy to lift above their head.”

  Robby nodded. “That’s what I thought and the ME verified.”

  “Sorry we weren’t more help,” Dom said. “We’ll keep investigating though. Will you keep us apprised of any developments?”

  “Sure.” Robby turned concerned eyes on Claire. “Auntie, are you okay? You’re awfully quiet.”

  “What?” Claire looked at Robby then back at the house. “Oh, I’m fine. Must be getting a cold.”

  “Do you need a ride back?” Robby asked.

  “No.” Dom grabbed Claire’s elbow and led her away. “We need the exercise.”

  “Okay.” Robby’s face registered sheer disappointment as he locked the door. “You’ll let me know what you come up with?”

  “Of course.” Once they were out of earshot, Dom turned to Claire. “I have coffee at my place. We need to talk.”

  Claire nodded, and they walked the rest of the way in silence, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. When they got to his condo, Dom ushered Claire into the kitchen and sat her at the table while he made coffee.

  “Sorry I don’t have any tea,” he said over his shoulder as he filled black ceramic mugs with the brew.

  “That’s fine. I could use something stronger.”

  Romeo sidestepped his way along his perch to the side of his cage, peering out at Dom as he put the mugs on the table.

  “Twuspect.”

  “Yes, my friend, we have a suspect. Several, in fact.” Dom sat, cupping his hands around the mug. “But still, I’m not sure which one is most likely to be the culprit.”