She opened the door with a bit of a start. “Detective, what a surprise.”
Some people say that and don’t mean it. With Marx, I knew that wasn’t the case. The look on her face told me that she clearly expected somebody else. And that she didn’t add the word pleasant before surprise, confirmed her disappointment.
“Mrs. Marx, good afternoon. I hope my timing isn’t inconvenient.”
“No, of course not.” She gathered the folds of her blouse above her cleavage, which, in my opinion, presented more for the eye than anyone at the front door should expect. She stepped back and presented a path inside with a gentle sweep of her hand. “Won’t you come in, please?”
I brushed past her, inhaling the compliment of her perfume, a subtle mix of daring enticement and breezy savoir-faire. I didn’t know whom she expected when she opened the door, but I assumed whoever it was, he was one very lucky man.
The last time I saw Rachel Marx, she was dressed in smart business attire, appropriate for a high-end jewelry store. This day she wore tight blue jeans with white stitching around the back pockets that helped define and accentuate her assets. Her blouse, which apparently had more buttons than she cared to employ, was sheer enough to see through while at the door with the sun streaming in over my shoulder. Once in the room, however, only the form-fit of the cut lent any clue to her faultless figure.
She followed me into the living room and stopped at my heels when I stopped. I think we were both surprised when I turned around and nearly bumped into her. She laughed lightly and pressed her fingertips to my chest.
“Pardon me,” she said. “I thought you were going to take a seat on the sofa.”
I smiled back. “My apologies.”
She seemed a bit shorter than what I remembered from meeting her at the store. Then I looked down at her feet. They were dainty and bare, her toes nearly touching mine. She returned a thin smile and retreated a step before maneuvering around me and working her way to the wet bar in the corner of the room.
“Care for a drink, Detective?”
“No, thank you,” I answered. “I just have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“Another interrogation?” Her words came out playfully. I recognized immediately their reference to our discussion from the day before.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I brought the hot lights and handcuffs with me, so don’t make me use them.”
She chuckled. “You won’t need the lights, Detective. In fact, I prefer them off. As for the handcuffs; well we’ll just have to see how things go.”
I suddenly felt uncomfortable and unprepared for the direction the conversation had suddenly taken. “Mrs. Marx, yesterday you told me that nobody knew the entire combination to the safe at the jewelry store.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You also said that you, alone, had the only key.”
“Correct again, Detective.”
“So, am I to understand that you are unaware of a lawyer at the firm, Hartman, Pierce and Petruzelli who also has a key and a copy of the combination?”
“Oh? Are you sure?”
It’s funny how she didn’t even try to act surprised. “Yes, in fact I spoke to Allen Brinkman there this morning and he confirmed that information.”
She pulled a cigarette from a silver case and offered me one. I waved it off. “Detective, as you probably already know, my late husband handled all the company affairs. He may have felt it prudent to keep a spare key and a copy of the combination at his lawyer’s office, but I never knew that.”
“Is that so? Then you deny going to see Mister Brinkman at his office, either yesterday or earlier today.”
“Did he say I went to see him?”
“No, he would neither confirm nor deny that information.”
“Well, there you have it then. I never saw him.”
“But you do know who he is.”
“Of course, he’s the company’s lawyer.”
I pointed to her cigarette. “Is that a Melrose Light?”
She gave the cigarette a dismissive glance before blowing a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. “I’m trying to quit. It’s such a nasty habit. Have you ever smoked, Detective?”
“Years ago,” I answered, though I realized immediately afterward how feeble that must have sounded, considering my apparent age.
She smiled. “In grade school, I suppose.”
I nodded. “Something like that.”
She set the cigarette in an ashtray and poured herself a drink of Scotch whiskey from a crystal decanter on the bar. “Certain you won’t join me?”
“I’m on duty, Ma`am.”
“Of, course.”
“Mrs. Marx, how many people knew exactly where your alarm box was located in the store?”
“Alarm box?”
“The master control panel, the one in the back room closet.”
She shrugged and looked away, as if seriously trying to recall who might know. “Besides me, Eric, Dan and Oscar? Nobody.”
“Do you think Allen Brinkman would have known?”
“Allen? No. I don’t see how he would know that.”
“Can I ask you where you keep the key?”
“Key?”
“To the safe. If you believed it was the only one, then I suspect you keep it in a secure place.”
She slipped her fingers into a sliver of a pocket in her cellophane tight jeans and pulled out the key. “I keep it on me at all times.”
“I should have noticed.”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean known. I should have known. Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose it, carrying it around all the time?”
“Detective, I can’t be running home to get it every time someone at the store needs to get into the safe. Besides, I had always assumed that Sheldon had a second key stashed away around the house somewhere. I just never located it. I figured when the time came, if it came, I would tear the house apart until I found it.”
“That’s putting a lot of faith in something so important.”
“Is it? So you think I’m lying when I tell you that I didn’t know Allen Brinkman had a key?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“Then you’re a coward, Detective. You’re in a tough business. You shouldn’t be afraid of offending anyone. If you think I’m lying, you should say so.”
“All right then, Mrs. Marx, I think you’re lying, either that, or you are incredibly naïve.”
“Bravo, Detective. Good for you, and I think you’re cute when you’re upset.”
“You know I’m married.”
“As if I care. That doesn’t make you any less cute.”
“Mrs. Marx, I appreciate that you prefer the direct approach. I thought you were kidding about this turning into an interrogation, yet at the risk of that happening, I’m going to ask you some rather direct questions now.”
“Please, be my guest.”
“At this point in the investigation, we’re looking at the burglary as an inside job.”
“As well you should.”
“Naturally, you’re our prime suspect.”
“Ooh, you cut right to the chase. I like that.”
“No one could have opened the safe without the combination and the key. Now then, the combination is debatable. Who has it, who doesn’t. It’s just information, and information is a fragile thing. Over the years, loose talk could have given that information away in pieces, only to be assembled by any one of you.
“But the key, that’s a very tangible thing. Two nights ago, someone opened that safe in your office, and that someone either used your key or the one in Allen Brinkman’s filing cabinet.”
Rachel Marx set her drink down, put her hands together and clapped then slowly. “Well done, Detective. Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“You’re mocking me.”
“And you’re mocking me.”
“I am not.”
“Then you
’re accusing me. It’s one or the other. Now which is it?”
“Look, help me out here. This should be easy. If you didn’t rob your own safe, then someone working in connection with Allen Brinkman did it, someone with direct knowledge of the store’s security system and the contents of the safe.”
“I’ll buy that.”
“What do you know about Oscar Shaul’s finances?”
“You think Oscar did it?”
“Just answer the question, please.”
“Oscar has a bit of a gambling problem. I don’t think that’s a secret. He’s borrowed money from me, Eric, Dan and who knows how many other people.”
I thought about the life insurance policy and tried a long shot. “Did you know he borrowed money from Allen Brinkman?”
“Did he?”
“A lot of money.”
“I see. So, you think Oscar told Allen about the diamonds?”
“He may have.”
“But he didn’t know Allen had access to the safe.”
“Maybe Allen told him.”
“Detective, Oscar is a timid little mouse. He’d return a quarter if a vending machine gave him back too much change.”
“You’re saying he wouldn’t participate in a felony, even if it meant getting himself out of a mountain of debt?”
“Even if it meant his life.”
“What about Eric?”
“What about him?”
“Does he have any sort of relationship with Allen Brinkman?”
Rachel shook her head adamantly. “No.”
“You sound oddly defensive. Are you certain?”
“Of course.”
“What about Daniel Cohen?”
“Definitely not.”
“Why?”
“Because Dan is a master jeweler, one of the best I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t get involved in the daily minutia of running the business. I doubt he even knows who Allen Brinkman is.”
“You seem rather loyal to your partners. What if I were to tell you that I think the four of you pulled off the heist together?”
“You better hope we didn’t.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because that’s a case you could never prove.”
“You seem certain of that.”
“I am.”
“You know, that alone gives you ample motive.”
“Yes, motive, means and opportunity. I understand how that works, Detective. The problem is that to substantiate charges, you need supporting evidence. What you have is evidence supporting a classic break-in and burglary perpetrated by a third party who had access to my safe while I was home sleeping.”
“Can you prove that?”
“I don’t really have to, do I?”
“Why’s that?”
“Because you have no idea what time the store was burglarized. Dan locked the place up the day before last at six-fifteen. Oscar opened the doors the next morning at eight-fifty. That’s over thirteen and a half hours in which anyone could have committed the crime.”
“Thirteen and a half hours that you can’t fully account for.”
“Have you done anything to pinpoint the time of the crime, Detective?”
“Don’t tell me my job,” I said, though by then I was feeling handily out gunned by her reasoning. I decided to change the subject. “I was talking with Lesley Swan.”
“My insurance rep?”
“Yes. She tells me you’re trying to quit smoking.”
She walked back over to the bar and poured another drink. “I told you myself I was trying to quit.”
I followed her and clasped the smooth wooden edge of the bar. “That was your cigarette we found in the alley yesterday, wasn’t it?”
“No. I had no reason to be in that alley.”
“So you’re telling me it wasn’t yours?”
A knock came on the door then, a rhythmic sort of knock indicating familiarity. I remembered the surprised look on her face when she answered it for me. Here was the company she expected.
“Excuse me,” she said, brushing past me, teasing the air with hints of her perfume again.
She answered the door, holding her company back with hushed whispers before escorting him into the room.
He walked in behind Rachel, but because of his height, I could see his face and recognized him immediately. “Mister Feldon,” I said, walking over and extending my hand. “This is a nice surprise.”
He came around Rachel, at which time I could see him carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and a carton of Melrose Lights in the other. He tucked the carton up under his left arm to free up his right. We shook, and that reserved smile he showed me the day before at the jewelry store had all but turned sour.
“Detective, Rachel tells me you’ve been interviewing her in the burglary case.”
“Yes, and I’m glad you’re here, because I planned on stopping by to see you next.”
“Do we need a lawyer?” he said, and gave me a dry laugh.
“Would you like one?”
He looked at Rachel, who did little more than twitch her nose. Feldon said, “No. I told you yesterday if there was anything I could do to help you, all you needed to do was ask.”
“Good. I’m asking.” I pointed at the wine bottle. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything special here.”
Feldon displayed the wine for me, label up. “This? No. It’s just a thing we do sometimes. We get together, watch a movie, sip a little wine.”
“And smoke?”
“Hmm?”
I pointed to the carton of cigarettes.
“Oh, these. No, I don’t smoke.” He handed the carton to Rachel. “I got these for you, dear.”
I watched Rachel’s expression harden, her eyes narrowing into slits. She snatched the carton from Feldon and tossed it onto the couch behind her.
“Thank you, Eric,” she hissed. “Can I get you a drink?” I assumed she meant to shut him up.
“Sure.” He handed her the bottle and then nodded toward the sofa. “Detective, care to sit?”
“No, thank you. Actually, I just have a couple of questions and then I’m out of here.”
He splayed his hands in a welcome gesture. “By all means.”
“I was telling Mrs. Marx here that your company’s lawyer, Allen Brinkman, has a spare key to the safe, along with a copy of the combination. Were you aware of that?”
He looked at Rachel, who not so subtly shook her head. “Is that right? Umm…no. I didn’t know that, Detective.”
“I see. Mister Feldon, I’m wondering if you can tell me who else might have some familiarity with the security system at the store.” I waited for his eyes to wander toward Rachel again before adding, “You don’t need her help, sir. Just answer as honestly as you can.”
He shook his head and acted surprised by my request. “I’m not looking at her.”
“Well then?”
“You know, it’s an old building. The security system’s old. It’s been there a while. There have been a number of people over the years in to work on the plumbing, the electric, the air conditioning and even the alarm itself. Any number of contractors could have come across it.”
“You were thinking of hiring a night watchman a few days ago. Why did you change your mind?”
“You’re talking about your partner, Rodriquez, aren’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“Look, Detective, one of the local cops mentioned it to us. He knew we were getting ready to have our big annual sale and he suggested we have a guard watch the place at night.”
“Would that cop be Sergeant Powell?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“So, why didn’t you hire Rodriquez?”
“To tell you the truth…” Feldon cast his gaze to the floor and shook his head doubtfully. “It didn’t seem like his heart was in it.” He looked back up at me. “Besides, we have a Chubb Sovereign, the most impenetrable safe in its class.”
“Yeah? How
’s that working for you?”
“Detective.” Rachel Marx elbowed in on us and handed Feldon a glass of wine. “I think you’ve asked enough questions for now. You have Allen Brinkman’s number, I’m sure. Next time you’d like to talk to us, call him first. We’ll invite him to sit in with us.”
“Of course,” I said, taking the hint. “I appreciate your time, Mrs. Marx. Mister Feldon. I’ll see myself out.”
Chapter 19
I headed to Oscar Shaul’s house next. Barely two minutes into the ride, Lilith called. I hoped she had some news for me. She did. Bad.
“Tony, we lost him.”
I could feel my blood starting to boil. “Lilith! How could you?”
“It wasn’t my fault. It was Ursula’s. She doesn’t know how to drive. She keeps getting the gas mixed up with the brake.”
I heard Ursula yell, “`Tis a complicated contraption!”
“Lilith, why did you let Ursula drive?”
“I had to. I couldn’t very well drive with my head out the window while looking up at a flying lizard. Besides, the cops were chasing us.”
“The cops? Why… Ugh, you know what, never mind. Where did you last see him?”
“We lost him while cutting across the golf course. His patrol car hit a water hazard and—”
“Not the cop, Lilith! Jerome! Where did you last see Jerome?”
“Oh. East of the golf course, just beyond the creek. By the time we went the long way around to cross the bridge, he was gone.”
“All right, look, I want you to go home. I don’t need every cop in New Castle out looking for you two. Just go straight home and wait for me there. You got that?”
“Are you telling me what to do?”
“No, I’m asking. Please go home.”
“That’s better.”
“So you’re going home?”
“Sure, right after we swing by the Burger Barn and pick up a couple of burgers and fries.”
“What? No. Don’t stop—”
“All right, love you. Bye.”
“Lilith!”
She ended the call, leaving me wanting to reach out and choke the livin` shit out of her. I had no choice but to postpone seeing Oscar Shaul and head across town to find Jerome. Fortunately, I had a good idea where to look, as the road behind the golf course ran parallel to the woods behind the research center.
BURY THE WITCH: Book 10 (Detective Marcella Witch's Series) Page 19