by Ellery Adams
• • •
It started to rain again, first as a light sprinkle, and then as a full-fledged deluge. Molly could hardly see out the car’s windshield it was coming down so hard, and by the time she reached the cottage, she practically had to peel her fingers off the steering wheel from gripping it.
There weren’t any lights on in the windows, but Hattie’s white Mercedes sedan was parked out front, which was a good sign she was home. With the rain pounding on the roof of her car, Molly flipped the hood on her coat over her head, opened the door, and ran for the covered porch. Standing under the archway, with the rain bouncing off the roof and gushing down the gutters, she pressed the doorbell. When no one answered, she tried again.
Why wasn’t Hattie answering? Her car was there. If she wasn’t home, where was she? Molly tried the doorknob and was surprised when it turned. She opened the door and stepped into the house. It was dark inside, and quiet. She called out, “Hattie? Are you here?”
Immediately, a muffled voice cried out from upstairs. “Help! I’m locked in the office!”
“I’m coming.” Molly ran up the stairs to the second floor. At the landing, she looked down the hall and was shocked to see a chair wedged under one of the doors. She moved it out of the way, and when she opened the door, Hattie stood there, hands on hips, eyes furious.
“He took my cell phone and locked me in,” she said.
“Who did?”
“Felix!”
“Are you all right? What happened?”
Hattie pushed past her. Molly glanced into the room. It was a bedroom, but it was being used as a home office, furnished with a desk, a file cabinet, and a row of bookshelves filled with a wide assortment of books, both old and new.
Molly followed Hattie downstairs. She was in the living room, looking through her purse. When she pulled out her cell phone, she held it up to Molly like a prized possession. “Thank God he didn’t take it with him,” she said.
“Are you going to call the police?”
“No. I don’t want to get him in trouble.”
“Felix locked you in a room, without your phone, or any way to get out, and you don’t want him to get in trouble? You could have been in there a long time if I hadn’t stopped by. Why did he do it?”
“He wanted to look for the egg,” Hattie said. “He told me we didn’t do enough to find it. I asked him why he suddenly cared, after making it clear to the rest of us he didn’t want to be involved anymore. He said he’d had a dream about Galina, and she told him to find the egg and give it to Natasha. I told him he needed to see a shrink. It’s bad enough he’s still visiting Galina’s grave every week, now he’s talking to her in his dreams.”
Molly looked around the living room. It didn’t look like it had been searched. Was Hattie lying? “Are you sure he searched the house?”
“Yes, I’m sure. He started with Curtis’s office, even though I told him the egg wasn’t there.” Hattie shook her head. “I tell you, Molly, he was having some kind of psychotic episode. He’s gone completely bonkers. I told him if he didn’t stop, I was going to call the police. He said go ahead, call them, and I’ll tell them you’re a thief. He thinks Curtis found the egg and the rest of us are lying about it.”
“Did Curtis find the egg?”
“No, of course not!” Hattie’s voice was rising. “I told him it was a waste of time to look for it. I reminded him we’ve searched the cottage numerous times, and the manor house, and the museum. Every place we could think of where Galina might have hidden that stupid egg. At this point, I don’t think it will ever be found. But he wouldn’t listen to me. He said he was going to search the entire house. Then he grabbed my phone, and a chair, and he shut me in the room.”
“How long was he here?”
“About an hour or so. I could hear him down here, opening drawers, banging around. I watched him leave from the window. I knew he didn’t find the egg. He looked too upset. He slammed the car door and raced out of here.” She gave Molly a quick flash of a smile, delighting in his going away empty-handed. She glanced around the living room. “I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t trash the place. Not that I care at this point.”
“Do you have any idea where he could have gone?”
“How should I know? He’s probably at the cemetery, crying over Galina’s grave. He thinks he’s the only one who’s suffered a loss. What about me? I loved Curtis most of my life, and when we finally had a chance to be together, he ends up dead.” She blew out her breath. “I don’t need this aggravation, I really don’t.”
“Hattie, on the day Curtis died, did he tell you he met a man at the shop by the name of Noble Dyson?”
Hattie looked at her. “What? No. I’ve never heard the name. Who is he?”
“A private investigator from Boston,” Molly said. “He told me his client is the buyer Galina met with in Florida. He spoke to Curtis the day he died, and told him the buyer still wants the egg. Curtis told him as soon as he found it, he’d let him know. He agreed to sell it to him. Are you sure Curtis didn’t tell you?”
“Of course I’m sure,” Hattie snapped. “I can’t . . . it’s not . . .” She was having trouble breathing. She stopped and took another deep breath. Her expression was a mix of disbelief and anger. “Are you making this up?”
“No, I’m not.” Molly took Dyson’s card out of her purse and showed it to her. Hattie stared at the card, disbelieving. “I met him, Hattie. He told me himself.”
Hattie’s face turned red. “I can’t believe Curtis didn’t tell me about meeting this Dyson person. Why didn’t he tell me, Molly? How could he do this to me?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have an answer. But I wonder if you might have seen Noble Dyson at the gala ball. He’d be hard to miss. He’s a big man, mid-forties, with a shaved head and a goatee.”
“I don’t remember seeing anyone like that. But what do I know? He could have been there.”
“I’ve been thinking if Curtis did find the egg, he could have set up a meeting with Dyson at the gala ball, and something went wrong.”
Hattie stared at her. “I think Felix isn’t the only one out of his mind. Curtis hadn’t found the egg, so why would he set up a meeting?”
“He didn’t tell you about Dyson. Are you so sure he didn’t find the egg?”
“Of course I’m sure. He would have told me.” Hattie spoke firmly, but for the first time, Molly saw a hint of doubt in her eyes.
“Who did you meet with at Pigs Fly a few weeks ago?”
Hattie looked confused by the sudden change in direction. “What?”
“You were seen having lunch with a man in a suit and tie. Who was it?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but it was my financial adviser. We get together a few times a year to go over my portfolio. If you don’t believe me, you can ask him yourself. His name is Dennis Marsh.” Hattie turned on her heel. “I’m going to check into the Marriott. I’m not staying in this house another minute.”
Molly stood staring after her as she went quickly up the stairs. When she heard a door slam upstairs, Molly put her hood up again and went out the door. She ran back to her car and slammed the door shut. The rain hadn’t slacked off at all. It was running sideways down the windshield. She didn’t want to drive home until it slowed down. She decided to wait, and sat in her car, thinking about Hattie. If she was telling the truth and didn’t know anything about Curtis meeting with Dyson, or any other plans to sell the egg, then she probably didn’t kill him. Felix was obviously on the hunt for it, and if a dream about Galina had made him lock Hattie in a room, he probably wasn’t ready to give up yet. But where did he go? Molly doubted he’d be at the cemetery in this kind of weather. But what about the manor house? He might have gone there to see his mother, or to try to search for it on his own. She could drive to the manor house, since she was on the estate already. She started the engine and drove slowly away.
Chapter 20
Molly knew she’d get
soaked if she walked from her car to the service entrance, even with her hood up. She turned around in her seat and searched the floor of the car for her umbrella, which she found halfway under the passenger seat. She put up her hood as she opened the door and got out fast, opening the umbrella and running to the door.
There was no arched roof above this door to protect her, but it was open, and she was able to get inside. Dripping water on the tile, she saw an umbrella stand in the corner and put her soaking wet umbrella in it.
The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and cinnamon cake floated down the hall from the kitchen. She walked down the hall and stopped in the doorway, looking into the room. Peggy was sitting at the table, staring off into space, somewhere between the refrigerator and the stove. Loki, the cat, was relaxing on the wide windowsill staring out at the rain. She jumped down when she saw Molly, which startled Peggy out of her reverie.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Molly said. Loki ran over to her, but at the last second turned and ran out the door into the hall.
“I was a million miles away,” Peggy said. She didn’t get up or offer Molly a coffee. The oven was on, the cinnamon cake was baking, and it smelled divine. “If you came to see Natasha or Maxim, they’re not here. The funeral home called. They’ll be collecting Curtis’s body from the mortuary tomorrow, and they’ve gone to make arrangements for the funeral.”
Molly knew this meant the medical examiner’s office had finished their job. Lombardi would be able to announce Curtis’s death was officially a homicide. “I wasn’t looking for Natasha or Maxim. I thought I might find Felix here.”
“Felix?” Peggy looked surprised. “Why would he be here?”
Molly took off her coat and draped it over one of the chairs before she sat down at the table with her. “It seems your son bullied his way into the cottage this morning and locked Hattie in a room. He was searching for the Fabergé egg, and if I hadn’t come along, she’d still be locked up.”
“Are you sure? Because you can’t believe everything Hattie tells you. She’s such a liar.”
“She’s not making this up. I know, because I rescued her.”
“Oh.” Peggy paused. “Well, I don’t know where Felix is, so I can’t help you. Maybe you should go.”
Molly looked at her closely. Peggy’s eyes were darting around the room, as if she was trying to find a way of escape. “You’ve heard from Felix, haven’t you?”
Peggy stood up fast, almost knocking over her chair. She wore an apron over her clothes, and smoothed away invisible wrinkles with her hands. She went over to the oven and clicked on the oven light to check on the cake.
Molly pressed her. “Where is he, Peggy? I need to talk to him.”
Peggy turned to face her. “I don’t know where he is,” she said. “He called about twenty minutes ago and asked me to let Hattie out of the room at noon. He wouldn’t tell me what was going on, or what it was about. He hung up on me. He never hangs up on me. I tried calling him back, but he won’t answer.” Her eyes were anxious. “Did Hattie call the police?”
“No. She’s packing her bags and moving out.”
Peggy looked relieved. “What about you? Are you going to tell Detective Lombardi what he did?”
“I’d rather talk to Felix. I’m worried about him. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, of course I am. But as I said, he isn’t returning my calls. Of course, I’m sure I’ll hear back from him. And when I do, I’ll tell him to give you a call.”
“Peggy, does Felix have a history of mental health problems?”
“No. Why would you say such a thing?” She took a step toward Molly. “I know what you’re doing.” Her voice was shaking. “You want to blame him for Curtis’s death. But he’s a good boy. It’s true he’s been upset about Galina, but he’d never hurt Curtis. I won’t let you accuse him, or call him crazy.”
Peggy was wringing her hands together. Felix might be half a century old, but she’d called him a good boy. In her mind, her child could do no wrong, but she was worried.
Molly said, “He told Hattie he had a dream about Galina, and in the dream, she told him to find the egg and give it to Natasha.”
“So? Dreaming about her doesn’t make him crazy.”
“No, of course it doesn’t.”
Peggy went back to her chair. She sat down and her shoulders slumped. “I wish Galina had never tried to sell that egg. If they hadn’t gone down that road, none of this would have happened.”
“What do you mean?”
Peggy waved a hand in the air. “I meant what Felix did to Hattie, it’s inexcusable. I’ll have a talk with him.” Molly waited to see if she’d say more, but Peggy folded her arms across her chest. “You should go,” she said. “I really have nothing else to say to you.”
She turned her face away and looked out the window. Molly did, too. The clouds were finally moving on, and the rain was tapering off. She knew Peggy was done talking to her. She put her coat on, retrieved her umbrella at the door, and went outside. She didn’t bother opening her umbrella. She got into her car, threw it into the back, and took out her phone. Should she call Lombardi, to tell him what Felix had done to Hattie? Or should she wait until she’d had a chance to talk to Felix? Hattie didn’t want to report what he’d done. And the fact that he’d locked her in a room to search the house was pretty good proof that he wasn’t in possession of the egg. Molly decided to wait on calling Lombardi.
As she came around the crest of the hill, the cottage came into view, and she saw the Mercedes was gone. Hattie hadn’t wasted any time packing her bags and moving out. Then she remembered Felix telling her about Galina’s garden at the back of the house. The rain was now a mist, and since Hattie wasn’t there, she thought it would be the perfect time to check the garden. She parked and popped her trunk open, removing an old pair of boots she kept in there, and changed into them since the grass was wet. She walked around to the back of the house and was immediately disappointed. Galina’s garden was a muddy plot of earth. Whatever flowers had once thrived there had shriveled up or blown away, leaving weeds to grow among the brittle remains.
She pushed aside some dead leaves, looking for any signs in the dirt where Galina might have dug a hole to hide the egg. She couldn’t see a thing since the ground was so wet and muddy. She thought about trying to find a branch or something she could dig with, but she soon realized that was a task that would take hours, if not days to accomplish. And anyway, that was a job for the police, not her.
After changing back into her clean shoes, Molly drove away from Misty Vale feeling like she was getting nowhere with this case. Hattie claimed she didn’t know anything about Curtis finding the egg or meeting with Dyson, and there was no way to prove she was lying. She’d hit a wall with her. And now Felix was on the run. When the Fairhill Cemetery came into view, she slowed her speed. Driving past the rows of graves, she looked to see if he was there, standing over Galina’s grave, rain or no rain. But there was no one in the cemetery, only the dead, who were resting, and weren’t trying to solve a murder case.
As she drove out of Fairhill and made her way back to the city, she thought it might be time to give up sleuthing. She could go home, finish her article on folk art portraitures, and wait for Lombardi to solve Curtis Cobb’s murder. Once the killer was arrested, she could write an article about him as she’d promised Maxim, covering the investigation from Lombardi’s point of view instead of her own. She felt confident she’d done her best, providing additional information to help him solve the case, but she didn’t see how she could prove the egg was at the heart of Curtis’s death unless it could be found, and there was only so much she could do.
Molly felt good about her decision. There were simply too many moving parts in this case. She felt so good about walking away, she was about to call her mother to give her the good news, when she saw a sign for the Preservation Society along the side of the road. Suddenly, all thoughts of giving up flew out the window. She’d met the society’s presi
dent, Sheri Goodwin, a few months earlier at a cocktail party, and remembered Sheri telling her how they’d recently completed an overhaul of their computer system. This gave Molly an idea. At the next intersection, she took a turn, and followed the signs.
Chapter 21
A historical marker by the front door of the Preservation Society building said it was constructed in 1846 as a general store, and had remained in the same family until 1985, when the Preservation Society bought the building. Molly thought it still looked like a general store from the outside, with its wide porch and rocking chairs, steel tubs filled with colorful mums, and pumpkins on either side of the welcome mat. But when she opened the door and the little bell jingled above her head, she didn’t see a candy counter or merchandise for sale. All that remained of the original store were the oak floors that had been refinished but still retained old scuff marks, dents, and scratches. There were bookcases with reference books, shelves filled with antiques, and framed photographs of Burlington and the people who had lived there going back to the mid-nineteenth century. There was also Sheri Goodwin, sitting behind her desk, working on the computer, a radio tuned to a classical music station. As soon as she saw Molly, she got up and came over to greet her. She was probably fifty, but had flawless skin, was slim and fit, and could easily pass as ten years younger.
“Molly! It’s so nice to see you.”
“Good to see you, too, Sheri.”
“What brings you by? Would you like a tour? I’d be happy to show you around. We have a new film you can watch on Vermont’s history.”
“I wish I had time to see it, I really do,” Molly said. “But I’m on a mission of sorts, and I’m hoping you might be able to help me.”
“Sounds intriguing. What do you need?”
“Do you have any information on a property called the old Salter farmhouse? Have you even heard of it?”
“Yes, of course. I know the house you’re talking about. A long time ago it was a popular hangout spot for teenagers. I went there a few times with my friends.”