Of course, she thought, making her way down the hall, she was one of the few employees who had actually seen and handled the jewels. That must be the reason why they wanted to talk to her.
Wrayburn seemed pleasant enough when she arrived, pointing out a chair for her to sit in and introducing Detective Michael Tabak of the Palm Beach Police Department. Tabak, she noticed with some unease, was accompanied by two uniformed officers who had stationed themselves by the door, blocking any escape attempt. As if she would even think of it! She was innocent!
“You are Elizabeth Stone,” Tabak began. “Is that right?”
Once she had affirmed her identity she was shocked to hear him deliver the Miranda warning, adding that the entire interview would be recorded by a hidden CCTV camera. “Do you understand?” he asked.
Simply a formality, Elizabeth thought, nodding. They were probably doing this with everyone.
“I would like to show you some video footage taken yesterday,” said Tabak, flicking on a small TV.
Elizabeth studied the grainy footage that showed people coming and going in the lobby. She herself appeared as a small figure in the background, seated at her desk.
“Look here,” said Tabak, pointing out a male figure carrying a large duffel bag. He seemed to be in a hurry, but there was a moment when he looked in her direction and she waved at him. It was Chris Kennedy, she realized, with a shock.
“Who is this man?” Tabak demanded.
“That’s Chris Kennedy,” she said reluctantly. “I had a couple of dates with him.”
“Why the wave?” Tabak asked, fixing his small, dark eyes on her.
“Just a friendly wave,” said Elizabeth. “That’s all.”
“It looks like a signal to me.”
Elizabeth was almost too shocked by this accusation to reply. “That’s ridiculous,” she finally said. “Why would I do that? What would I be signaling?”
“Letting him know the coast was clear,” Tabak said. “That he could get into the office and steal the jewels.”
Elizabeth thought she saw a way out of this nightmare. “But even if he got access to the office, and even if I opened the safe for him, which I definitely did not do, the jewels were still in a locked case.”
“He could easily substitute a matching case, especially since you’d seen the real case and could describe it to him. Then he could take the case with the jewels, hiding it in that bag of his, and open it later,” said Tabak.
Elizabeth felt as if she were in a scene from a very bad movie, but knew it was all really happening. She shook her head. “This is crazy.”
“There’s no sense protecting him,” Wrayburn warned. “We have reason to believe he stole the parure. This is your opportunity to tell everything you know before he has a chance to implicate you. Which he will, believe me.”
Elizabeth didn’t know what to think. She’d liked Chris a lot, but then he’d broken their date and lied about the reason. Maybe he’d been lying about everything, like Toni said. Maybe he was a fake, like his Rolex. Maybe he hadn’t been interested in her at all but had just been using her to get information about the hotel and the jewels.
“Listen, I’m not very happy with Chris Kennedy. In fact I’m not even sure he really is named Chris Kennedy. I have no reason to protect him. If I knew he’d stolen the jewels, I’d tell you, but I don’t. I simply don’t have anything to tell you,” Elizabeth protested.
“You’re in serious trouble,” Tabak said, fastening that dark stare on her. “Once we catch him—and believe me, we will—he’ll do everything he can to put the blame on you.”
Elizabeth’s head was spinning. She felt like Alice, falling through the rabbit hole into a completely strange and nonsensical world. “I can’t believe Chris Kennedy stole the jewels, but if he did, I certainly had nothing to do with it.”
“So that’s your story,” Tabak said.
“It’s not a story, it’s the truth.”
Wrayburn sighed. “That’s all for now, Elizabeth.”
“I can leave?”
“Yes, but you need to see Mr. Dimitri first.”
Tabak had something to add. “And don’t leave town.”
Elizabeth stood up, surprised to see that her legs still worked. It was with a sinking feeling, however, that she made her way with heavy steps to the hotel manager’s office. She was pretty sure she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
When she reached the lobby, she found it empty, except for a few uniformed police officers. There was a subdued hum of conversation coming from the Grand Ballroom, and the orchestra had been replaced with a pianist, who was providing dinner music. The party must go on, she thought, even if the bling was missing from the Blingle Bells Ball.
Stepping behind the reception desk, she was surprised when the door to Mr. Dimitri’s office flew open and Toni popped out.
“Hi!” Elizabeth exclaimed, glad to see a friendly face.
Except the face wasn’t all that friendly. “Uh, hi,” Toni muttered, ducking past her and rushing off in the direction of the employee’s locker room.
What on earth was happening? How could Toni even know that she was suspected of involvement in the theft? And if she did know, why wasn’t Toni sticking up for her?
Elizabeth opened the door and saw Mr. Dimitri. He was seated at his desk, looking through a file.
“Elizabeth,” he said, a note of disappointment in his voice. “Sit down.”
Here we go again, she thought, seating herself.
“I am not one to rush to judgment,” he began. “I want you to answer one question, and to tell me the truth.”
“Absolutely,” Elizabeth said, relieved that somebody seemed willing to believe her.
“Did you have anything to do with the theft of the jewels?”
“No, I did not,” she replied.
He sighed. “Are you absolutely sure that the jewels were in the case when you returned it to me after the photo shoot?”
Elizabeth decided it was time to tell the truth. “No, I’m not sure.”
“You’re not?” Mr. Dimitri looked horrified.
“There was some confusion. Noelle had been throwing the jewels around and—”
“That will be enough, Elizabeth,” he said, cutting her off, apparently unable, or unwilling, to hear a Cavendish employee speak ill of a guest. “I’m afraid I’m going to place you on leave pending further developments.”
“Leave?” Elizabeth asked. “What does that mean?”
“It means we will hold your job for you until the investigation is complete. If you are exonerated, and I most certainly hope you will be, you will be welcome to return to the Cavendish family.”
Elizabeth did a rapid calculation and figured she had eighty-two dollars in her checking account, and only a couple of thousand in her emergency savings account. “Is this a paid leave?” she asked hopefully.
“No,” he said, “but you will be paid for the days you worked in this pay period.”
That was the first good news she’d had since the theft was announced, she thought, slightly relieved.
“If I were you,” Mr. Dimitri said, “I’d hire a good lawyer.”
Elizabeth nodded and left the office. At the door she was met by one of the hotel’s security guards, who escorted her to the locker room. He stood by, watching as she opened her locker and hung up her green Cavendish jacket, feeling a bit like a disgraced officer being stripped of her military insignia. She turned her back and slipped off the green skirt, then pulled on the shorts she’d worn to work that morning. When she picked up her purse he took it and looked through it carefully; she blushed when he opened the plastic tampon container. “Okay,” he said, handing the bag back to her.
She took it and left the building, stepping into the dark night and following the dimly lit path to the employees’ parking lot. There, she discovered, the one halogen lamp that lit the lot was out. She unlocked the Corolla and sat behind the driver’s wheel, looking back at the
golden, glittering hotel and wondering if she would ever be able to return.
Tears sprang to her eyes. Tabak was right. She was in trouble, the worst trouble of her young life, and there was only one thing to do. Call home.
Chapter 6
After talking to her mother, Elizabeth followed her advice and took a long bath and went to bed. “Everything will look better in the morning,” Lucy Stone told her daughter, but Elizabeth found that hard to believe. Every time she closed her eyes she saw another disturbing vision: Tabak warning her not to leave town or Mr. Dimitri’s curt dismissal or Wrayburn’s bulldog expression. And then there was Toni, smirking and speculating that Chris wasn’t genuine. Was Toni right? Had she been a complete idiot? Or, worst of all, had she actually aided and abetted the thieves without realizing it?
Exhausted at four a.m., she gave up and took the one remaining Ambien in the vial Doc Ryder had prescribed when she’d had a bout of insomnia last summer, anxious about leaving home and beginning her new job. She then fell sound asleep and didn’t wake until noon.
Her first impulse upon waking was to call Chris Kennedy, but she couldn’t quite make up her mind to do it. Finally, spitting a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, she gave in, only to get a recording informing her he wasn’t available but she could leave a message.
She was about to do so, then remembered the police were most certainly monitoring his calls and snapped the phone shut. Too late, she realized. Her call would be retained by the system as a missed call. In fact, she realized, it was quite probable that she was under surveillance herself. She went to the front window and looked out, wondering if she was being watched.
There was no black sedan parked out front, no unmarked white van on the other side of the street, but she was too paranoid to feel relieved. What was it they said? It wasn’t paranoia if they were out to get you. And Elizabeth had the uncomfortable knowledge that she was under suspicion, the police were out to get her and wanted to implicate her in the jewel robbery.
She was making herself a cup of tea—she couldn’t face coffee this morning, actually this afternoon—when Toni’s face popped into her consciousness. That bitch! There was no other word, she thought, stirring a scant teaspoon of sugar into the mug. It must have been Toni who fingered her, who had told investigators about her and Chris dating. Impulsively, she grabbed the phone, determined to have it out with her.
“Why did you do it? Why did you even mention me to the cops?” she demanded, when Toni answered. “Thanks to you I’m in big trouble.”
“I was only trying to help,” Toni replied. “I told them you were under the influence of this Chris Kennedy guy, that it wasn’t your fault. I told them how he had won you over, using a fake identity.”
“How could you know that?” Elizabeth demanded.
“It was obvious. He’s a big phony but you were too infatuated with him to realize it. I was only trying to help you, honest.”
“Well, you’ve gotten me in real trouble. They think I conspired with Chris,” Elizabeth wailed.
“I didn’t realize . . . I was only trying to be a good friend.”
Elizabeth doubted that Toni was telling the truth, but didn’t want to think badly of her colleague. “I guess it won’t matter in the end,” she said. “The truth will out and I have nothing to fear because I’m innocent.”
“I’m sure that’s right,” Toni said. “By the way, they gave me your concierge job. Temporarily.”
Something in the way Toni said “temporarily” gave Elizabeth pause. She remembered Toni’s threat, after Elizabeth had forgotten to let her deliver the bubble bath to Merton Paul, that she would get back at her. Now, it seemed, Toni had succeeded. Maybe she wasn’t really a friend after all.
Suddenly, Elizabeth didn’t want to have anything to do with Toni. “I’ve got to go,” she said, tossing the phone on the table as if a spider had crawled out of it.
She picked up her mug of tea and wrapped both hands around it, as if its warmth could somehow console her. Reassure her.
She was a good person, she told herself. It was ridiculous that she should find herself suspected of a crime. She worked hard, she tried to please, and this is what it got her. How could Toni be so mean? She simply didn’t understand it. And Chris? Was it possible that Toni was right? Had she been played for a fool?
She sat down on her futon, crossing her legs Indian style, and tasted the tea. It was sweet and spicy, and it seemed to help her clarify her thoughts. She sipped and tried to remember every conversation she’d had with Chris. Had she unwittingly given him valuable information? It was true that he’d mentioned the Cavendish data system, she realized with a start, but she hadn’t given him any information. Or had she?
Was it really possible that he wasn’t who he’d claimed to be? He looked like a Kennedy, but so did a lot of people. Toni had been suspicious of him right from the start. Was Chris Kennedy as fake as that big Rolex he always wore? And why hadn’t he answered her call?
Setting the tea aside, she decided to get dressed and work off her nervous energy in the apartment complex’s gym. She threw herself into her workout, starting on the treadmill, then advancing to the Stairmaster and elliptical trainer, then finishing off with a half hour’s worth of lazy laps in the pool. When she headed back to her apartment her joints were loose and a bit rubbery, and she was very hungry. She was wondering what she had in the fridge when she saw a strange apparition climbing out of a taxi.
It was a very old woman with a head of curly white hair, carrying a bright red winter coat looped over her arm. There was nothing unusual about seeing an elderly woman in Florida but Elizabeth thought this particular old lady bore an uncanny resemblance to her mother’s friend in Tinker’s Cove, Miss Tilley. Christened Julia Ward Howe Tilley many years ago, she was known as Julia to only a few very dear contemporaries, and was Miss Tilley to everyone else.
Elizabeth blinked a few times, staring at this incongruous figure standing on the sidewalk, apparently examining a leathery anthurium blossom. They said everyone had a double—was this Miss Tilley’s double?
The apparition turned and smiled at Elizabeth, giving her a wave. Then another figure climbed out of the taxi and began collecting luggage and there was no question at all about her identity. It was her mother, Lucy Stone. There was no mistaking that cap of shining hair or that hideous orange plaid jacket her mother was so fond of.
“What are you doing here?” Elizabeth asked, running up and greeting them both with hugs and smiles. For the first time since she was accused, she was beginning to feel that things might work out for her, that it was going to be all right.
“You’re all wet,” Miss Tilley observed.
“I was swimming,” said Elizabeth, who was still in her swimsuit with a towel draped over her shoulders.
“I was afraid we’d find you in jail,” Miss Tilley said. “We took the first flight.”
“She insisted,” said Lucy, handing Elizabeth one suitcase and taking the other herself.
“I didn’t think we’d find you lolling about the pool,” Miss Tilley said in a disapproving tone. She patted the snap purse she was carrying. “I brought cash to bail you out.”
“If it makes you feel better, prison is still a very real possibility,” said Elizabeth. She was pulling a rolling suitcase behind her, leading the way through the apartment complex’s landscaped grounds to her building. It was slow going, however, as Miss Tilley and Lucy kept stopping to examine the tropical plants.
“At home, those are houseplants,” said Lucy, pointing to a clump of spiky snake plants that were flourishing against a wall.
“Mother-in-law’s tongues, that’s what my mother used to call them. And look at those poinsettias,” said Miss Tilley. “They’re as big as my lilac bushes.”
“It’s amazing,” said Lucy, finally shrugging out of her jacket. “It was snowing at home when we left.”
“Well, come on in and get settled,” Elizabeth invited, unlocking her door and w
ondering how she was going to accommodate the two women in her tiny apartment, located off the island in the more affordable town of West Palm Beach.
“This is lovely,” said Miss Tilley, glancing around at Elizabeth’s mix of IKEA and thrift shop furniture. Peeking into the bedroom, she nodded in approval at the queen-size bed. “We’ll take the bedroom and you can have the couch. You don’t mind sharing, do you, Lucy?”
“Not at all, as long as you don’t get fresh,” said Lucy, busy hanging up their winter coats in the hall closet. “Now, what’s for dinner?”
Lucy opened the refrigerator and examined the contents, Elizabeth went into the bedroom to get dressed, and Miss Tilley settled herself in a sunny spot on the little screened deck off the living room.
“There’s nothing to eat,” called Lucy. “All you’ve got is yogurt.”
“There are microwave dinners in the freezer,” Elizabeth replied.
Opening the compartment, Lucy discovered she was right. “Elizabeth, this is no way to live,” she scolded, choosing three of the packaged meals.
Ten minutes later, Lucy had set the table on the deck, thrown some salad in a bowl, and zapped three dinners.
“Warm weather is so nice when you’re older,” Miss Tilley observed, when Lucy and Elizabeth joined her on the deck and seated themselves on the mismatched chairs at Elizabeth’s rickety plastic table. Miss Tilley raised her wrinkled face to the sun, reminding Elizabeth of a tough old lizard.
“With this heat it doesn’t seem at all like Christmas,” Lucy said, glancing about at the collection of flowering plants that Elizabeth had set on the deck railing. “And you haven’t put up any decorations, not even a Christmas tree.”
“I haven’t had time,” Elizabeth said defensively. Her mother’s offhand comment had stung. “Most days I’ve been working from eight in the morning to nine or ten at night.”
A Winter Wonderland Page 25