by Krista Davis
I hoped Helen wouldn’t break his heart. But that was useless wishing. Poor Bob.
With their departure, the store lay quiet. As though it had been put to bed.
Jonquille gazed around. “It must have been like this when Delbert let himself in the night he was murdered. I wish we knew what he was thinking that night.”
He didn’t seem capable of rational thought. Did he think he would empty the cash register? Steal a treasure map?
I stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Someone else was here that night, too. Why aren’t I psychic? I wish I could see the two of them sneaking about the store.”
One of them had opened the hidden door under the stair landing. And one of them had retrieved the spear from the professor’s office.
“Two people up to no good. But who?” asked Jonquille.
I set the alarm, we stepped outside, and I locked the front door. Jonquille and I stood in close proximity on the stoop. “I didn’t want to believe this, but I am reluctantly coming to the conclusion that there might have been three people present that fateful night. And one was a woman.”
Chapter 34
“The pearl,” said Jonquille.
I had picked up the pearl and examined it. “One of the people who broke in must have brought a woman along. Either Delbert or his murderer.”
“Delbert? From what I’ve heard about him, that seems unlikely.”
“I talked to a bartender from Club Neon who said he was popular at the nightclub. Maybe he meant to impress her. He probably bragged about inheriting the store one day.”
“Or did the killer bring a girlfriend? Maybe they planned some kind of heist together and were surprised when they discovered Delbert in the store?” suggested Jonquille.
“I wonder if he tried to call the police?” I said.
“Maybe not. He wasn’t supposed to be in the store, either. Or maybe they were friends of his, people who didn’t frighten him.”
“You mean all his bragging might have led to his death? He might even have brought them with him or opened the door for them. And then her pearls broke in the ensuing fracas. And one sole pearl remained behind, caught under the carpet.”
I breathed a little easier. It hadn’t been Veronica! Her pearls broke at Club Neon.
It was the dinner hour and Georgetown was slowing down. Fewer cars, fewer people. We walked back, thoroughly enjoying summer in the city.
When we reached the carriage house, Jonquille helped me carry in the cooler full of leftovers.
“This stuff smells great.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t take you along.”
“Was Norman obnoxious?”
“It was so uncomfortable that my mother apologized to me and won’t force the issue anymore. I think the only way to get rid of him is to find him someone else.”
“Now you’re going to be a matchmaker? That’s a tricky business.”
“Especially for a debonair guy like Norman.”
Jonquille poured sparkling lemonade for the two of us, and I fetched my sketchbook.
We sat in the garden while Peaches prowled in her jungle.
“Are you feeling the need to draw?” asked Jonquille.
“Always. But right now, that pearl really bothers me.”
“You said Helen bought new pearls.”
I flipped the sketchbook to the page with Helen.
“Wait. Not so fast. I was concentrating on the players you drew the other night. What are all these other things? Like this feather?”
“The bartender at Club Neon had a huge plume in her hair. She was afraid of some guy with a butterfly tattoo.” I pointed to the butterfly.
“I understand the spear and the shoe print. Those were at the site of the murder, but what about the clock?”
“Seven minutes before three Sunday morning a week ago, Delbert tried to open the French door of the carriage house.”
Jonquille chuckled. “I don’t have to ask how you knew that. I’ve never seen so many clocks in a home. But it’s key because it means he was still alive then, and that the murder occurred after three in the morning. And this?” He pointed to a necklace.
“The famous Maxwell emerald and diamond necklace.”
“Which is probably what the burglar was after,” said Jonquille. “And what’s with the two martini glasses and the cupcake? Wistful thinking?” he teased.
“On Monday, after the professor was arrested, Mr. DuBois was washing two martini glasses. I don’t know if Mr. DuBois and Maxwell are in the habit of having a martini together. I assume it’s more likely the professor had a guest the night before. Probably Emily Branscom. And the cupcake is meaningless. Scott and Lance had a box from Sugar Dreams Cupcakes when I visited them. A bank took over the building and the store moved.”
Jonquille sat back in his chair. “I’ve been trying to figure out why Emily Branscom’s name is so familiar to me.”
“You’ve probably seen her books around town. Or maybe you read about her in the newspaper. She’s pretty popular.”
Jonquille glanced over at me. “Would you be okay here by yourself for an hour or so? I’d like to check her out at the police station.”
“You’re going to bring her in for questioning?”
“No. I just want to check some paperwork is all.”
I walked him to the door, where he had a word with the guard.
But instead of going back into the carriage house, I marked the door with straw, locked it, and popped in on Mr. DuBois. A different nurse had arrived. She held a finger up over her lips. I tiptoed back to his room.
He slept peacefully. I sat down in the chair next to his bed. What had he been looking for in our little tour of the house? I leaned back, kicked off my sandals, and curled my legs up under me. Closing my eyes, I listened.
Birds still twittered outside, something crashed in the kitchen. The air-conditioning hummed softly. I didn’t hear anything coming from the bedrooms upstairs.
I decided to return later, after dark, to listen again. I stretched and ambled out to the kitchen, where my gaze fell upon a row of martini glasses inside a cabinet with glass doors.
I ran back to Mr. DuBois’s room and flicked on the light on the nightstand. “Mr. DuBois,” I hissed. Gently, so I wouldn’t alarm him, I shook his shoulder.
He opened one eye and his mouth.
“Who visited Maxwell the night of Delbert’s murder? Who had a martini with him?”
“Professor Maxwell isn’t home at the moment. I shall tell him you called.” He closed his eye.
He was drugged to the gills again. Giving up, I went home.
The guard wasn’t outside. I hoped he was around somewhere.
A man shouted at me from the driveway.
Large and muscular, he lumbered toward me holding the largest bouquet of roses I had ever seen. The sun glinted off his bald head. A huge black mustache covered his upper lip. He fit the description of the man who had frightened Sonja at Club Neon.
My heart pounded. Where was the guard? A person could hide a large gun under all those flowers. I jammed my key into the lock of the carriage house.
“Florrie Fox?” he asked. “These are for you.”
I braced myself for the bullet. He handed me a giant vase filled with red roses.
As he turned to leave, I spotted a butterfly tattoo covering his arm just above his elbow.
“Wait!” I cried. “Who are you?”
“Jerry. I work for Mr. Woodley.”
“Why were you asking questions about Delbert at Club Neon?”
He appeared surprised. “You know about that, huh? Mr. Woodley wanted to know what Delbert had been doing and with whom.”
“Mr. Woodley doesn’t believe that it was Professor Maxwell who murdered Delbert, does he?”
“Naw. He feels pretty bad about that.”
“Thank Mr. Woodley for the flowers.”
“Sure thing.”
Even though my hands were full, I checked for the straw in the d
oor. It was still there when I unlocked it, assuring me that no one had entered that way. But when I stepped inside, I found Jacquie Liebhaber holding Peaches in her arms.
Chapter 35
We screamed at the same time.
“Hush!” Jacquie slapped a hand over her own mouth. “The guard will be in here any minute.”
I peered at her in disbelief. “Jacquie Liebhaber?”
“Please don’t give me away to the security guard,” she begged. “I’ll explain everything.”
What was I supposed to do? The woman was famous around the world. I didn’t think she was a threat to me or anyone else.
She was dead on about the security guard, though. There was a rap at the door.
“Miss Fox? Is everything okay?”
Jacquie looked a lot more terrified than I felt. I flicked my hand at her as an indication she should hide. She retreated up the stairs.
I opened the door, still holding the roses. “I feel so stupid. It was a spider. I’m a little queasy about them.” Where the devil had he been when a huge man walked up the driveway?
He gazed around. “You sure?” In a whisper, he said, “If somebody is in here and you’re pretending everything is all right, tug on your left earlobe.”
I burst out laughing. “Thank you. That was very clever of you. But everything is quite fine.”
“I’m just outside if you need me.”
“Thanks. I feel much better knowing you’re there.” That was a fib. If he was on the ball, Jacquie wouldn’t be in the house at all, and he’d have noticed the man with the bouquet of roses.
I closed the door, set the roses on a table, and walked to the stairs. “I thought you were dead.”
“Dead?” She walked back down the stairs. “Why would you think that?”
I told her about the radio report. “I guess they didn’t say you were dead, but I sort of assumed it. Finding a half-submerged car in the river isn’t a good sign.”
“Sheesh. I cannot believe it took them a whole week to find my car. I didn’t even hide it well.”
“You left your car submerged in the Potomac?”
“That should give you an indication of how scared I am. It’s not every day that someone tries to fake her own demise.”
“But why?”
“It’s a long story.”
I figured she was hungry. “How would you like to tell me over a steak and potato salad?”
“Oh yes! Thank you, Florrie. You’re just as wonderful as Maxwell told me. I feel like we’re already old pals.”
“The professor knows you’re here?”
“No, but he always speaks of you with such fondness. I’m afraid I gave you a terrible fright when I tried to get into the carriage house.”
I stared at her in shock, momentarily speechless as I realized what her words meant. “You? You’re the one who jiggled the handle of the French door in the middle of the night?”
“Guilty. I’m so sorry that I scared you. I thought the carriage house was empty and hoped someone had left one of the doors unlocked.”
So it wasn’t Delbert who tried to break in. He might have already been dead by then. “You wanted to hide here?”
“In my books, the heroines never go home to hide because that’s the first place people would look for them. I guess my current residence is where they would expect to find me, but this property feels like home to me, and I haven’t lived here in so long that no one would suspect I was here. Have you heard anything about Maxwell?” she asked. “How’s he holding up?”
“As well as can be expected is what they tell me. His lawyer says he has limited phone access, so I haven’t spoken with him.”
“Florrie, I have a huge favor to ask of you. And then, how about we share a bottle of wine from Maxwell’s cellar with that steak?”
“I think I have a bottle of wine in the kitchen.”
Jacquie smiled broadly. “Oh, you’re a goody two-shoes. No raiding the wine cellar. I love you even more. The nurse has stocked up on the most dreadfully bland foods at the mansion. It’s a wonder DuBois is getting better at all. If I hadn’t managed to intercept a delivery from the grocery store before the nurse put everything away, I would be starving.”
“You’ve been living here?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it living, but yes, I’ve been hiding out here. It’s a wonderful place, isn’t it? I built this carriage house as my office when I was married to Maxwell. I used to come over here every day to write. In the summer, I sat out in the garden, and in the winter, when there was snow on the ground or the wind howled, I would build a fire. He updated the kitchen considerably since then. Wife number three probably did that. The garden looks fabulous. So lush! These are lovely roses. From your police admirer?”
“Oddly enough, they’re from Delbert’s father, Mr. Woodley.”
“Really? Maxwell was never fond of him. Said he was far too vulgar. It’s been years since I saw him. Looks like he has learned to be more gracious.”
“He came to the store to see where Delbert died. It was very sad. I think he feels like he failed as a father.”
“I can understand why. Delbert was always bad news. I’m no shrink, but I suspect the best parent in the world couldn’t have changed his predisposition to wreak havoc.”
I unpacked the food and fixed her a plate of steak, beans, potato salad, and an ear of corn.
“It’s been so long since I had a cat,” said Jacquie. “Peaches is just lovely. She’s been such a blessing to me.”
A blessing? I could hear Peaches purring. “So that’s why Peaches was always tired when I came home. She played with you during the day.”
“I suspect it was the goldfish that tired her out. I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been so relieved to be able to get out in the fresh air. It did a lot to calm my nerves. Did you notice the cat fence that runs across the fence around the garden? It’s made so that they fall back into the garden if they try to jump out. His third wife must have been a cat lover, too. I’m sure DuBois hated that.”
I set a wineglass and a bottle of my favorite red wine on the coffee table and brought her the plate I had prepared.
“Oh lovely! Thank you, Florrie!” Jacquie ate like she hadn’t seen food in days.
“You’ve been here on the estate since the night you tried to get in?”
“Why do you think I’m dressed like this?”
I had no idea where to start. I knew it was a rhetorical question on her part, but I thought it was as good a place to begin as any. “Why are you dressed like that?”
“Because I can’t go home, and I certainly cannot go shopping! This is Maxwell’s shirt. I took the liberty of cutting the legs off a pair of his old jeans. I was somewhat horrified to find the waist isn’t too large for me.”
“Did you clean up Maxwell’s dresser?”
“Wasn’t that an awful mess? DuBois certainly couldn’t do it. Maxwell wouldn’t have cared. He was never one to be tidy. But I don’t like messes.”
“You weren’t afraid someone would notice?”
“Not that. Who complains when somebody cleans up? All the nurses probably thought a different nurse did it. If they even went into his bedroom.”
“Aside from the creepiness factor, I’m pretty impressed that no one except DuBois knew you were here. And he thought you were a ghost.”
“Crumbs, my dear. In my books, villains always carelessly leave crumbs. I made sure that I didn’t.”
Would it be rude of me to ask why she couldn’t go home? I decided it wasn’t. After all, she was hanging around in my home, sneaking food, and cutting up the professor’s clothes. I dared to ask.
Between bites, she said, “The short and horribly boring truth is that my husband has a gambling problem, and I’m through with him. The longer answer is somewhat more hair raising.”
I sipped a glass of sparkling water and stroked Peaches while Jacquie ate.
“This potato salad is superb. I love the pickles in it. An
yway, on Friday afternoon a week ago, I received a text from my credit card company. I have one of those thingies where they notify me if someone tries to charge more than a certain amount. My husband was away on business, so I thought it must surely be a fraudulent transaction. I’m sorry to say that it was my husband trying to get cash from a machine at a casino.” She dabbed her mouth with the napkin and sucked in a huge breath. “I’ve known about his problem for a long time. But I truly thought he had it under control. He’s been seeing a shrink who was helping him overcome his compulsion.”
She sipped her wine. “After days alone, you have no idea how wonderful it is to talk to someone.” She took a deep breath. “So, you know how sometimes things just occur to you out of the blue? One thing happens and it leads you to other random thoughts? I went home to check on my jewelry and it had been ransacked. Gone, gone, gone. All my beautiful sparkly things and some sentimental items from my mother and grandmothers. That bothered me the most. Those heirloom items weren’t very valuable. But losing them is a crushing loss to me.”
Jacquie interlocked her fingers and held them tight. Her hands trembled slightly. “We had been through it all before—the promises and the tears and the discussions. We’ve lost an enormous amount of money. Just wasted! Gamblers always think they’re going to win it back. They keep pumping money in, certain they will win big.”
She shook her head. “Creditors were calling, and he was getting foreclosure notices on his properties. And still he wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t take it anymore. The next morning, I rose early and moved all my funds into other banks. I don’t have Maxwell-type money, of course, but if my husband knew where it was, he’d have wangled a way to get at it. You can’t imagine how terrible it is to live with a gambling addict. In the evening, I came to see Maxwell for advice.”
She smiled. “Maxwell, for all his reckless adventures, is actually quite wise and very kind. His concern was the life insurance policy that my husband holds on me. If I die, he gets five million dollars. Maxwell was right. I had to leave for my own protection. My husband was out of town, so I hurried home, intending to pack a few things. But when I entered the house, I could hear him speaking with someone. The number five million was mentioned so clearly that I can still hear him saying it today. I didn’t dare stay a second longer. I left immediately. I was afraid to be alone in a hotel somewhere, so I dumped the car to mislead anyone searching for me and came back to Maxwell. And now, he’s not here but I am.”