Claire looked over at him. “And is Jane one of your suspects?”
Dom shrugged. “Jane or her father. Of course, he couldn’t have killed Mari.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “You can’t believe that Jane could do something like that!”
“You know I rely on evidence, not feelings. I go wherever the evidence leads me.”
“Even if the evidence is wrong?”
“Let’s think about this rationally. If that picture was of someone other than Jane’s father, we would be talking to them next.”
“But we already spoke to her about Elbert’s murder.”
“And she admitted that her dad knew Elbert and Bill Wilkinson. They were friends even. They came to her house.”
“True, but that doesn’t mean much. Most everyone on the island knows each other.”
“Jane said her dad talked to Bill about collections. Let me pose a scenario to you—”
“You don’t pose scenarios. You find evidence,” Claire said weakly.
“Just listen to me. Mari Wilkinson had that brooch, right?”
Claire nodded.
“What if that brooch was only part of what was in the treasure chest, and Bill and Charlie split the rest?”
“What about the rest of them?” Claire asked, then her eyes narrowed. “Surely you don’t mean that they cut the others out of the treasure … and killed Elbert!”
“Not necessarily, but—”
“Jane’s father didn’t have any money. If he’d had a big treasure, then why have Jane and her mom struggled financially their whole lives …”
“Until recently.” Dom finished her thought.
“You’ve noticed Jane’s had more money lately, too,” Claire said quietly.
“I’ve noticed. The car. The necklace. Her mom’s in an expensive facility. She seems less worried when we eat out.”
“But if her dad dug up that treasure, wouldn’t she have been rich before?”
“Maybe she just found the money. Maybe he hid it. Maybe that’s why she was in the storage unit.”
Claire sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “No, that doesn’t make sense. And what about the other members of the club? They insisted that they never found anything.”
“Clearly one of them lied, or else the other two were somehow cut out of the deal. Just like Elbert was.”
"Except not in such a drastic manner, as they are both still living."
“Look, I don’t think Jane killed Mari any more than you do. But what if she suspected her father killed Elbert and was trying to cover for him? She might have needed that brooch in order to do it. Mari was possibly the only living person who could have told us that the silent partner was Charlie.”
“I know that…but she wouldn’t. I mean, he’s dead. What does it matter now even if he was the killer?”
“Would you like for the island to discover that your father was a murderer?”
“Good point.”
“Alice saw Jane at Mari’s the night of the murder, remember? And Robby told me that time of death was very soon after that.” Claire’s face paled. “If the police come to the same conclusions we just did, they might not think so leniently of Jane.”
“Exactly.” Dom leveled his gaze at Claire. “Do you think Zambuco would arrest her, though?”
Claire’s brow ticked up. “Oh, you noticed they seem to be awfully … umm … friendly too?”
Dom nodded.
Claire shuddered. “I’m not sure if he would let whatever he has going on with her cloud his judgment. Maybe. And if he did, that would be even worse because he might be inclined to prosecute an innocent person in his haste to deflect attention from Jane.”
“All the more reason for us to find the truth. We have other suspects, and I’m not so sure Jane’s father was involved in Elbert’s killing.”
“I’d hate to think he was. He was a gentle man, and it would kill Jane if her father was a murderer.” Claire sighed. “Unfortunately, anything he might be able to tell us about the treasure-hunting club and what happened sixty years ago is buried with him.”
Dom stroked his chin. “Yes, that is a shame, but everything he knew might not necessarily be lost.”
“What do you mean?”
A pang of sadness pierced Dom’s heart. “There’s a person that one tends to share everything with … at least I did before …”
“Your spouse.” Claire shot up from the table. “We need to talk to Jane’s mother.”
14
Claire and Dom were lucky enough to catch the early-afternoon ferry to the mainland. It was a clear, sunny day, but Claire didn’t take any joy in the warmth of the sun on her shoulders or the salty sea breeze on her cheeks—she was too impatient to get to Greenbriar Manor and some information that would shed light on the case.
Preferably light that pointed away from Jane and her father.
As they drove up the drive to the manor, guilt washed over her. She felt as if she was going behind Jane’s back, but she didn’t want to ask Jane for fear her friend might not understand that Claire needed the information to prove her innocence and not because she suspected her of any wrongdoing. She wouldn’t broach the subject with Jane unless it was absolutely necessary.
On their way into the building, Claire noticed an aide wheeling someone along the path beside the manor.
“I think that’s Lila over there.” Claire tilted her head toward the wheelchair.
Dom glanced over. “So it is.”
They veered off in that direction just as the nurse was parking Lila next to a rose bush laden with velvety red buds, some of which were already unfurling. The enormous, thorny bush climbed a trellis attached to the side of the building and reached almost to the second floor. Claire eyed it with appreciation, wondering if her rose bush would someday grow as large.
“Hello.” The aide greeted them pleasantly. “Are you here to see Lila?”
“Yes. I’m Claire Watkins, a friend of Lila’s daughter Jane,” Claire said.
“Wonderful. I’ll leave you here to visit while I run inside.” She maneuvered the wheelchair so that the back was against the wall of the building, giving Lila a view of the garden. She patted Lila’s hand as she bent down to lock the wheels. “I’ll leave you to visit with your friends. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
The aide shot a smile at Claire and Dom over her shoulder as she headed toward the front door.
Lila watched her walk away then cast a hazy look at both Claire and Don. “Do I know you?”
“Yes, Mrs. Kuhn. It’s me, Claire.” Claire bent down to kiss Lila’s cheek and took a seat on the bench beside her.
Lila smiled at Claire then eyed Dom suspiciously.
“This is my friend Dominic Benedetti,” Claire said.
Lila nodded, seemingly satisfied with the introductions, and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I love the sun on my face and the smell of the roses. You know you can smell the sea from here?”
“Yes. It’s lovely.” Claire had to admit the sun did feel good, and the fragrant floral scent mixed with fresh-mowed grass and the briny smell of the sea was invigorating.
“So peaceful here.” No sooner did the words escape Lila’s lips than a clatter sounded from the open window next to them.
“Well, except that. That’s the south sitting room, I believe. Noise travels right out to this very spot.” Lila’s lucid remarks gave Claire hope. Maybe they would be able to get something good out of her.
“Mrs. Kuhn, we were wondering if we could ask you some questions,” Claire said.
Lila opened her eyes and looked at Claire. “Who did you say you were?”
Okay, maybe she wasn’t quite so lucid. “Claire. Claire Watkins. I’m a friend of Jane’s.”
“Janey? Janey isn’t friends with any senior citizens, or I would know about it.”
Claire exchanged a troubled look with Don, but she pressed on. “We wanted to ask you some questions about your husband Charlie.”
&n
bsp; Lila sighed, a smile flitting across her lips. “I wish that Charlie was back. He’s always away on his trips.”
Claire couldn’t remember Jane’s dad taking many trips, but it was an awfully long time ago, and her memory was admittedly fuzzy on the matter. In fact, she could barely picture Jane’s dad at all. Still, she had to wonder if any of Lila’s answers would be real memories or manufactured ones.
“We heard that he was part of a treasure-hunting club,” Dom said.
Lila’s voice grew soft, her eyes clouded with old memories. “Oh yes… but if you want in, they aren’t accepting any new members. It’s just the four of them. And Charlie, of course, but he doesn’t do any of the hunting.”
“So you knew about it?” Dom asked.
“Of course. A good husband always tells his wife everything. He believes in that silly superstition that William Kidd buried treasure here. A waste of money, if you ask me.” Her face turned sour. “That Billy Wilkinson is a bad influence on Charlie.”
More sounds drifted out of the window, making it difficult to hear Lila, as her voice was so low. Claire scooted forward in her seat to get closer to Lila.
“Bill and Charlie are friends?” Claire asked.
“Best friends. It’s Billy who convinced Charlie to go in with him on this treasure-hunting thing. What about our Janey, I ask you? She needs to go to college.”
More sounds drifted out of the window. A familiar voice caught her attention, and Claire cocked an ear toward the window.
“Mr. Crane, can you tell me why I just got a phone call from your doctor telling me that you never made your appointment yesterday? You have to stop skipping those appointments. I saw you get into the private car, and you need that therapy if you want your knees to stay strong,” a stern voice said.
“I didn’t feel like going.”
Was that Quentin Crane? It sounded like him, though his voice was rougher and more crotchety than the other day.
“You were out all afternoon. Where were you?” the stern voice asked.
“I didn’t know this was a prison. Is a man not allowed to take a walk along the water anymore?” Quentin said.
“I’m just here to help. If you’re having troubles with your memory or if you’re feeling bad, I need to know about it so I can address it in your treatment plan.”
“I’m fine. Did you reschedule with the doctor? I promise to go next time …”
Quentin’s voice faded away, and a sound from Lila brought Claire’s attention back to her.
“Now that Quentin Crane, I like him much better than Bill,” Lila said.
“Quentin is friends with Charlie too?” Claire asked.
Lila nodded. “He was in the club. A very nice man. In fact, I had him over for tea just the other day.”
“Oh really?” Claire and Dom exchanged a glance.
Lila nodded. “Yes. The roses were in full bloom, and he picked a bouquet to take back to his wife. Such a thoughtful young man.”
Claire glanced at the rose bush. It wasn’t in full bloom. Lila must be remembering something from her past.
Lila’s eyes clouded. “He said my Charlie is waiting behind the golden doors.”
“Did Bill or Charlie ever show Quentin the brooch?”
Lila narrowed her eyes at Dom.
“Brooch. No! You can take it back. We don’t want it. I won’t show it to Charlie!” Lila’s voice rose. She was clearly upset … and clearly not lucid.
“It’s okay. It’s fine. We’ll take it back,” Claire tried to soothe her.
“He’s spending a fortune on your stupid treasure-hunting business, Elbert. I don’t care how many brooches you found in that chest. We don’t want those worthless pieces of crap,” Lila sobbed, flinging her hands out at Dom.
An aide hurried around the corner, her brows furrowed at Claire and Dom upon seeing Lila’s agitation. She hurried over to the wheelchair. “Now, Mrs. Kuhn, calm down.” She rubbed Lila’s shoulders and made clucking noises until Lila relaxed.
“Oh, okay, is lunch ready?” Lila asked.
“Lunch was an hour ago, but we can get you a snack.” The aide glanced at Claire and Dom again. “I think it’s time you went inside anyway.”
“Yes, I’m tired now, but it’s been lovely talking to Gertrude and Harold.” Lila nodded at Claire and Dom, and the nurse unlocked the wheelchair and wheeled her away, leaving them sitting in the garden alone.
“Well, that wasn’t exactly what I expected,” Dom said.
“Me either, but can we really trust her memory?” Claire asked. “I don’t remember Charlie traveling a lot, so if she was mistaken about that …”
“She could have been mistaken about everything else she said. But she mentioned an old brooch, and it would be too much of a coincidence that she would randomly make that up. She must’ve seen a brooch back in the treasure-hunting days, but she might be confused about the circumstances.”
“Which means they did find treasure in that chest, and Charlie and Bill knew about it.”
“And Elbert … and who knows who else. The others could very well be lying.”
Claire’s shoulders slumped. “We’re no closer to the truth than we were earlier.”
“Maybe, maybe not. I don’t think we can take Lila’s memories as gospel, but it gives us a little more to go on. Charlie likely knew about the brooch and possibly anything else that was in the chest.”
“There’s one other thing,” Claire said as they started toward the car. “I overheard that conversation from the window, and it sounded like Quentin Crane might be a little senile himself. Maybe we can’t trust his memories, either.”
“Really? Why?”
“The nurse said he’d missed his doctor’s appointment. Said she was worried about his memory.”
“Hmm. Well, he didn’t really tell us much of anything to begin with, so that’s no great loss. Maybe he really doesn’t remember finding any treasure. There’s one thing about this that worries me, though.”
“Oh?”
“If Elbert was the one to find the brooch, why did Mari Wilkinson claim her husband had found it? And if Elbert brought it to Charlie, maybe Charlie had something to do with Elbert’s death after all.”
15
Claire had no choice but to go and talk to Jane. She couldn’t rely on Lila’s faulty memory, and she needed to get to the bottom of this. For Jane’s sake. She just hoped that saving Jane from becoming the number-one suspect in a murder investigation wouldn’t ruin their friendship.
Butterflies swamped her stomach as she approached Jane’s door. Memories of them as young girls and teenagers surfaced. Happy memories. And then the sad ones when Jane’s father died. She remembered how devastated both Jane and her mom had been. Her heart crunched, hoping the results of her investigation wouldn’t have to mar the memory of Charlie Kuhn.
Claire hadn’t taken a good look at the house in a while. Jane had lived in a townhouse a few streets over, and her mom had stayed in this house, the one Jane had grown up in, until recently. It was an older house on a big lot. Claire noticed the yard had become overgrown. The farthest section overlooking Smugglers’ Cove was practically a jungle. She noticed the house also looked a bit run-down. She also noticed that Shane McDonough’s truck was in the driveway. Now that Jane was living in the house, she must be having him tend to the necessary repairs.
Claire raised her fist to knock, hoping that she wasn’t intruding. She hadn’t called Jane ahead of time and hated just popping in unannounced. But she needed answers, so hopefully Jane wasn’t busy doing something. And hopefully that something didn’t involve Zambuco.
“Claire! What a pleasant surprise. Come on in.” Jane held the door wide, and Claire stepped inside, looking tentatively for signs of Zambuco. She didn’t see any sign of him, thankfully, but what she did see was a pile of boards. Which explained the hammering sounds that were coming from the kitchen.
“Are you renovating the kitchen?” Claire asked.
“It�
��s long overdue, don’t you think? Mom never had it redone, so it’s almost seventy years old.”
“Well, I suppose it is.” Claire peeked into the kitchen on her way through to the living room. Shane McDonough was bent over his table saw, pencil in hand. He glanced up and smiled at Claire. She smiled back in return, taking in the extensive renovation in progress. This was no small spruce-up. The cabinets were down. Flooring ripped up and appliances gone. Her heart sank. Where had Jane gotten the money for such an expensive renovation?
“Have a seat.” Jane pointed to the sofa, and Claire sat.
“I’m afraid I can’t offer you any tea or coffee. The stove’s been pulled out for the renovation,” Jane said.
“That’s fine. I just wanted to come and visit. Seems like we’ve both been so busy we haven’t had time to catch up.” Guilt shot through Claire. It was true they hadn’t talked in a while, but the real reason she was here wasn’t to catch up. She needed information from Jane about her father’s involvement in the treasure club and to find out why she had been at Mari’s. Now, how to approach the subject?
“I have been busy with the renovations and … well, you’ve probably been busy with your investigation, right?” Jane said eagerly. Almost too eagerly. Was she fishing for information? No matter. She’d opened the conversation to the very topic Claire wanted to discuss, and Claire wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Yes, it has kept me quite busy,” Claire said. “And now with what’s happened to Mari …”
Jane leaned forward. “Do you think that has something to do with Elbert’s murder?”
“Maybe. The murders were sixty years apart, so it’s hard to say.” Claire settled back on the sofa and studied Jane. “I was wondering, though, if you might have some information about Mari.”
“Me? What kind of information would I have?”
“Alice said she saw you at Mari’s the night of the murder.”
“Clearly Alice’s eyesight is getting worse. I was here that night. Just ask—”
Claire waited for Jane to say more, but after a few seconds when she didn’t, Claire asked, “Just ask who?”
A Treacherous Treasure Page 9