Candace McCauley, P.I Mysteries (5 Cozy Mystery Books Collection)

by Kira Reese

  “She didn’t keep it, because she knew ashes unknown to you were in it. Now she is worried because somehow she has discovered you are a private investigator. People like you get to the bottom of things,” said Nick.

  “I’m impressed with your take on it. You are right. She is worried.”

  I stopped my fingers when I realized I drummed the table. If Juliette and Michael were friends, were they murderers? Somehow those ashes got into the urn and not by themselves. Nick looked at me. His eyes held concern.

  “Candy, you must be very careful. If Juliette knows where you live, you may be in real danger. I can’t put my finger on it, but something sinister is going on, and I think you are in the very middle of it now.” He did not take his eyes off me. “I think you should have Ben get someone to follow you for safety reasons until this is all cleared up.”

  “I don’t think that is necessary. I’ll be extra careful.”

  Nick did not agree. The next day I noticed someone following me. I pulled to the curb and got out of my car when the vehicle stopped behind me. I went to the driver’s side of the car ready to demand who he was. He flashed his badge and told me Detective Johnson ordered him to follow me. Only Nick would have done this, I thought. It would only hamper my investigation, and I did not want to pull in the cops on my every move. While standing in the street, I dialed Ben.

  “I don’t need a shadow following my every move,” I told him. “I will call you immediately if I find myself in danger.”

  My voice told him I would have none of it in spite of Nick’s concern for my safety. He reluctantly agreed to my demand. After things were settled, my shadow drove away. Ben cautioned me to be careful and to call if needed. I got back into my car and dialed Nick to let him know I was grateful but no thanks. He knew when I meant it.

  When I came into my office, Natalie looked at me questioningly. I told her good afternoon and headed for my office. A pile of new information was recorded neatly in two folders on my desk. Natalie proved to be meticulous in her findings in my two main cases. A note written on top of both folders told me in her handwriting that all information had been filed into the computer, as well. Feeling like I had been rude to her, I went to her desk in front to tell her how much I appreciated the way she was handling the office.

  “I have some personal stuff on my mind,” I explained. “When it is over I will tell you about it, but I’m not ready just yet.”

  Her eyes were luminous. “I hope you and Nick aren’t having trouble between you.” I reassured her that was not the problem at all. She smiled in a way that told me she was happy our relationship was strong. I noted there were no romance novels as usual on her desk.

  “Have you given up on reading love stories?” I asked her.

  “I haven’t had time to read while at work,” she said. She pulled open the top drawer on the right side of her desk and displayed the latest novel. “That is fine with me. I would rather be busy than read the day away.” Again, I told her how well she was handling things.

  After Natalie left for the day, I decided to call Michael Green. I was curious whether or not he had been interviewed at the precinct, though that was not a question for him. His secretary told me he had left for the day. That turned out to be a good thing since I had no idea what interest to pretend I had with him anyway. I drove to Juliette’s neighborhood again. All was quiet and all curtains and blinds were closed on the second floor.

  Nick called to say he would be late getting home. I rarely called Detective Ben Johnson after his workday ended. I felt since Ben and I were friends of the past, and present as well, that a personal call would be all right.

  “I hope I didn’t take you away from your dinner,” I said.

  “You called at the right time. We just finished. What can I do for you, Candy?”

  “I’ll make this short but am curious about the interview with Michael Green. Did you get verification that he put Speck up to the robbery?”

  “Michael Green did not show up for the interview. I have a team lined up tomorrow to bring him in bodily.”

  I was surprised the curator was so bold. He should have shown up if he wanted to keep himself innocent of suspicion. I said as much to Ben who agreed. He told me he would keep in touch if he learned anything new. So far I refrained from telling him what I knew about Juliette. I vowed to do that the next day face-to-face.

  Chapter 12

  Surprise Visit

  When the sun came up I pulled myself out of bed and headed for the shower. Nick was already in the kitchen and coffee was brewed. This was one day I needed more caffeine than usual. Twice in the night I awoke to swirling thoughts that wouldn’t quit in my head. Finally before drifting off into a deep sleep, I made up my mind to get to Ben before they brought Michael in. It was time he knew everything I knew. Even Nick’s soft kiss good-bye didn’t penetrate my distractions.

  At eight thirty sharp I sat across from Detective Johnson and enlightened him of everything I knew.

  “No wonder Nick was so worried about you,” he said. “Once again, I caution you, Candy, to be careful. This information will help in our interrogation of Michael Green. If you want to stick around, I’ll let you watch from the one-way window.”

  This was much more than I hoped for. I called Natalie and told her I was tied up. I asked for updates on the cases. She assured me things were fine and that two more cases arrived. She was excited to be on the inside of things. I waited in the waiting room until I got the signal they were ready to interrogate Michael Green. According to him, he did not know they wanted him to come in before today. His mouth twitched, and I knew he was nervous. If I had things to hide, I would be nervous, too, I thought.

  Ben was the lead interrogator. He began by using a friendly tone of voice. “You are here because we have information you directed actions of a recent burglary in town.” Michael’s eyes spread wide. He sat stone still. “Do you know anything about that?” asked Ben.

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” said the suspect.

  “Do you know a Juliette Barbin?”

  “Yes, I know her. I was a student of hers in Paris. I was part of her team on a dig in Corinth once. She visits the museum on occasion and lets me know of rare artifacts.”

  I took a sharp breath. In my research, the fact he was a former student of Juliette’s had not been uncovered. When Ben asked Michael the last time the two met, the curator readily said they had met the day before when Juliette came to see him. When asked the subject of conversation, the curator told Ben that Juliette said she had a black-figure pottery piece he may be interested in. She said she could get it for him.

  “The robbery had to do with just such a piece of art,” said Ben. He leaned closer to Michael. “We think you had something to do with the robbery of a black-figure artifact.”

  “I knew a piece had been stolen from a private investigator’s home,” said Michael. “I don’t think Juliette spoke of that piece. She has sold the museum other artifacts of the same time period, though they are rare pieces. I have no idea why I am suspected of masterminding the theft of a rare object.”

  “You are here for questioning only. We want to know for sure whether our informant has the correct information.”

  Ben continued to interrogate Michael. The curator proved to be open with his answers. When he was free to go, Ben joined me. “I don’t think he had anything to do with the theft from your house, Candy.”

  I had to agree with him. “I looked him up on the computer. His background shows he is honest and upright. He is well-educated and knows the business of ancient rare pieces. He has done wonders to bring the Museum of Historical Artifacts to the attention of well-known collectors and the public, in general.” My hesitation was not lost on Ben. He waited. “I wonder if Juliette should be the next one to interrogate. I know Michael did not mention knowing anyone named Pierre Sarkis, but I am sure he is the man who moves in and out of the house where Juliette lives.”

  I told Be
n about the gallery owned by Pierre. “It seems Pierre is away for a few months. I have no idea where he is, though I am sure he and Juliette connect in a tight way.”

  “But if Juliette sold the urn, why would she want it back?” asked the detective.

  “I wondered about that, too, until Nick mentioned she probably knows I am looking into whose ashes are in it. I think she thought she sold it to an ordinary garage-sale scavenger. When she found out I am a PI she got worried and needed it back. The crux of this whole affair is the cremains.”

  The detective nodded in agreement. “If she is an elusive person, it may be hard to track her down but she should be next on the list. In the meantime, I think I’ll interrogate Speck Andrews again. Maybe I can pin him down to Juliette Barbin without mentioning her name to him.”

  “What about his lawyer? I guess he will have to be there, won’t he?”

  “Yes, but I’m hoping Speck will want to speak up. I’ll give him the news that we know that Michael Green is not the one who put him up to the robbery. I doubt he will want to dig himself in much deeper than he is already.”

  As I drove from the precinct I was convinced Michael Green was not Pierre Sarkis. That did not eliminate a possible part he played in it all. I recalled his forthright answers and that said a lot for the man. Ben promised to let me know when he found Juliette Barbin for an interrogation.

  I cruised down Juliette’s street. Ben was aware of a presence in the supposedly empty house. Today the house was still. It gave the impression no one was home. Who knew if someone was behind the second-floor curtains? Juliette probably parked behind the house in a secluded garage, and there was no way to tell if she arrived home or not. I wanted to talk with her neighbor Esther again, but at this point I did not think stirring the elderly woman’s curiosity was a good idea.

  Checking in, Natalie told me she was on top of things. The Robertsons wanted a face-to-face meeting with me in regard to their stolen jewelry. My assistant updated me on everything. Nothing indicated there was a robbery at all. Natalie scheduled an appointment for the next afternoon at two.

  I returned home for the evening. Nick was not there, and so I began closing the blinds. I looked twice when I saw the Seville moving along on my street. Shivers ran under my skin when I recognized Juliette as the driver. I had no idea what she wanted since she must have known I no longer had the urn.

  Ben called to let me know that Speck had mentioned Juliette in the interrogation. He met with her once, he had stated. When the detective asked him the purpose of the meeting, he said there was no purpose. He and Juliette chatted briefly at a local coffee house about the new flavors. They waited in line and began a conversation.

  Both Ben and I knew it was highly unlikely that Juliette Barbin, the professor and high-class lady, struck up a conversation with the likes of Speck. For that matter, I could not imagine Speck Andrews in a coffee house in an upscale part of town.

  “I would think he would be more cooperative, since he is in so much trouble,” I told Ben.

  “He may think he has nothing to gain. He is guilty of robbery and breaking and entering already.” Ben had surmised that someone held something over Speck’s head and caused a fear in him of giving anything away.

  I glanced outside again. The Seville parked across the street. Juliette Barbin appeared to be using her cell phone. Mine rang and a smooth, silky voice answered my hello.

  “I believe you are the person who purchased an urn from my recent garage sale,” said the honeyed voice. “May I come in and talk with you?”

  One thing was sure: I did not want Juliette Barbin to come into my house. The small crystal clock on the end table told me Nick would be arriving in about fifteen minutes. I reconsidered. If I did not accept her in, this would be my last and only chance to talk with her face-to-face.

  “Come on in,” I said.

  I watched as the willowy figure swung gracefully from her car. The apparition I had come to expect was at my door. I gestured to a paisley chair, and I chose to sit across from her on the loveseat. Good manners dictated an offer of something to drink. I failed to do that on purpose. We looked at each other while my silence forced her to speak first.

  “I am wondering if I may look at the pottery piece again,” she said. Her eyes grazed the room. “After I sold it to you, I realized it was a family heirloom. I am willing to make a generous offer to get it back.”

  “I no longer have it,” I said.

  One thing about being a private investigator was I knew how to make the other person talk more than I did.

  “I do hope you sold it to someone who can appreciate its value. May I ask who the recipient of the pottery is?”

  “You will find it at the police department. Ask for Detective Ben Johnson.”

  For the first time since her arrival, Juliette nearly lost her equilibrium. She stood and attempted a smile but failed. “I will ask him right away, though I have no idea why such a valuable piece of art would end up with the police.”

  When no explanation followed, she clutched her small beaded purse and walked to the door. Without words, I opened it for her and she swayed her way to the Seville. I dialed Ben just as she started her car.

  “I don’t know if she will actually show up down there, but you may want to send a cruiser around here if you want to question her,” I told him. Within a couple of minutes a cop car passed by my house. They had the description of the car and the woman.

  When Nick arrived home I told him of my unusual visit. I ignored his reaction to the fact that I had let her inside the house.

  “I am sure she knows the pottery was stolen,” I said. “I think she also knows the robber was apprehended. She hoped I had the piece back. She was determined to get it back.”

  “Do you think she will go to the precinct to try and get it?” asked Nick.

  “No, she won’t go voluntarily. By now the cops should have her down there for questioning.” I explained why I thought that since I immediately notified the police.

  I started cutting raw vegetables for the salad. Nick pulled a pork loin from the refrigerator and began rubbing the spices on it. My cell rang.

  “Miss McCauley,” said a somewhat familiar voice. “I hope that in America this is not a bad time to call you. I am Jacques Lafonte, the archaeologist you spoke to about the black-figure pottery piece in your possession.” I sat down at the kitchen table and acknowledged I remembered him. “I understand you bought it from my friend Juliette Barbin-Sarkis. The gallery here is very interested in purchasing the piece from you.”

  I remained in midair, still trying to wrap my head around Juliette’s full name. His voice brought me back to him.

  “I will offer a very generous sum to you,” said Jacques.

  For the second time in the last two hours, I repeated that I no longer had the pottery piece. When I told him it had been stolen, I didn’t miss a deep sigh.

  “I am so sorry for your loss. I do hope the thief is found and brought to justice.”

  “He has been arrested, and the piece is intact and safe.”

  “If you do not mind telling me, where is the black-figure urn?”

  I told Jacques the piece was safely locked up at the local precinct. He did not say anything for a split few seconds. I figured he was trying to recover.

  “I am wondering if Juliette knows about this. I am sure she will be unhappy that it has been stolen,” he said. “I must let her know. Perhaps she can retrieve it from the police department for you. As I told you, I will pay whatever you wish for the artifact.”

  I told him thank you for his concern. I left out the part whether Juliette knew the circumstances or not.

  It was time for Ben to place Speck Andrews in a single isolated cell for his protection.

  Chapter 13

  Missing Gallery Owner

  The police were busy interrogating more than one person with a connection to the black-figure pottery. In the meantime, I had a few hours before the Robertsons came i
n to hear my lack of findings regarding their missing jewelry. I parked at the Museum of Historical Artifacts and went inside. The receptionist called Michael Green’s office to tell him of my presence. She directed me to go right in.

  The curator’s deep blue eyes penetrated mine. He stood and shook my hand with force. Without a doubt, he was someone who worked out on a regular basis. I could not tell if he was glad to see me or not. That detail made no difference to me.

  “I want to take a few minutes of your time to ask you some questions,” I said. The look of visible relief startled me. “I found out that Juliette’s full name included Sarkis. I have been trying to find Pierre Sarkis in regard to the urn I have. Do you know him, or only Juliette?”

  “I know them both. Pierre has been away from the Gallery of Corinth for over a month now, according to Juliette. I have no idea where he went, but he often goes on digs in Greece. He could be there.”

  “Wouldn’t the gallery know where he was?”

  “In the past, Jacques Lafonte has been the only one to have that information. Of course, Juliette, also, I am sure. She is his wife, and so I presume she would know.”

  I refrained from slapping my forehead. Why had I not thought to ask her when she visited me? I excused myself since when she visited me I had no idea her last name was Barbin-Sarkis.

  “How well do you know Juliette and Pierre?” I asked.

  “Juliette was my instructor when I studied ancient history at the American University of Paris several years ago. I was privileged to accompany her and Pierre on a dig once. That taught me more than any lecture.” He entwined his fingers together and leaned forward. “I always thought she and Pierre were somehow mismatched. Pierre was interested in the histories and origins of his discoveries. Even though Juliette taught ancient history, she always seemed more interested in their monetary value than origins.”