“Maybe we can find a little tree for you,” said Lucy.
“Maybe we should tackle the problem at hand,” Miss Tilley snapped. “Now tell me all about it, starting with the young man.”
Elizabeth’s chin dropped. “How did you know there’s a young man?”
Miss Tilley looked at her. “When a young woman finds herself in a predicament, it’s always because of a young man. Always.”
“I disagree,” said Lucy, who had two other daughters besides Elizabeth and often found herself refereeing squabbles and consoling them when mean girls got up to their tricks. “Girls can cause a lot of grief, too.”
Elizabeth chewed a bite of chicken parmigiana and swallowed. “In this case,” she said, “I think my troubles are due to a woman. Several women, in fact.”
“I’m sure there’s a man in there somewhere,” said Miss Tilley.
“Okay,” Elizabeth agreed. “I’ll start at the beginning. I’d just been promoted to assistant concierge, it was my first day, and this guy came in with a flat bike tire. I sent him to the hotel’s sports center and they fixed it and then he asked me out. We had a great time, and he asked me out a couple more times, but when we were supposed to go out last Sunday—the last day I had off—he canceled at the last minute.”
“Does he have a name?” Miss Tilley inquired.
“Chris Kennedy.”
“One of those Kennedys?” Lucy asked.
“I don’t know. Toni, who I work with at the hotel, said she thinks he’s an imposter, pretending to be a member of the Kennedy clan, but he never claimed any connection. He told me he was a lawyer and worked for some environmental organization. I thought he was a pretty nice guy. However, the investigators think he stole the jewels and that I was an accomplice.”
“I suppose Toni had something to do with that,” Lucy remarked.
“How did you guess? She told the investigators about her suspicions and she told them about me. She told them he was taking advantage of me. She said she did it to help me but I don’t believe her. She’s got my concierge job now.”
“And I imagine she was jealous because you had a boyfriend,” said Lucy, spearing a cherry tomato.
“I don’t know about that. She was always kind of down on Chris. I think the thing that really got her mad at me was that I promised to let her deliver a package to Merton Paul—he was in the hotel—and I forgot. She was furious, and she said she’d get back at me.”
“And she did,” said Lucy.
“It certainly sounds that way,” Miss Tilley agreed. “You mentioned several women caused you problems. Who are the others?”
“Well, Noelle Jones, Jonah Gruber’s wife. I was assigned to help with a photo shoot, pictures of her with the jewels, and she was terribly careless with them. She said they were uncomfortable and threw them on the bed. A ring even rolled under a nightstand and I had to scramble around on my hands and knees to find it.” Elizabeth found her frustration was getting the better of her. “She acted like a spoiled brat.”
Lucy clucked her tongue. “She certainly doesn’t sound very nice.”
“She isn’t,” Elizabeth said. She was beginning to enjoy dishing about the hotel guests; she’d been working so hard for so long and hadn’t been able to vent her frustration with anyone. “A lot of the guests are like that. They think the world revolves around them. If you saw the money Jonah Gruber spent on this Blingle Bells Ball, you’d be horrified. He hired this party planner, Layla Fine, and she spent two weeks ordering everybody around, but mostly me. I had to plan special events for Gruber’s guests, ‘extraordinary events for extraordinary people,’ she said. Like they were better somehow than everybody else, and entitled to the best of everything. Orchids and foie gras and diamond gifts for every guest at the ball. . . .”
“My goodness,” Miss Tilley tutted. “Such ostentation. And so unnecessary. My dear father used to say that there was nothing better than sweet water from our well and my mother’s home-baked anadama bread, and he was right. That and a clear conscience.”
“I don’t think anyone at that party had a clear conscience,” Elizabeth said. “I don’t see how they could. I mean, I kept thinking about people back home who don’t have jobs and their houses are in foreclosure and they have to depend on the food pantry to feed their kids.”
“This Gruber’s priorities certainly seem to be a little skewed,” Lucy said, “but I’ve seen big events like weddings get way out of control in Tinker’s Cove, too, especially if there’s a professional planner in the picture. What’s this Layla person like?”
“I had nightmares about her,” Elizabeth admitted. “She was so demanding, she had me running all over the place. Everything had to be perfect, but she was the one deciding what perfect was. I mean, white roses, pink roses, who cares? And they couldn’t be just any white roses, they had to be Patience white roses from some outfit in England. Everything was like that. Every day was an impossible quest to find some crazy thing, and if I couldn’t find it she’d rip into me, saying I was stupid and lazy.”
Lucy gave her daughter’s hand a squeeze. “That’s terrible,” she said. “Nobody should treat you like that.”
Miss Tilley, however, wasn’t about to be distracted by Elizabeth’s complaints. “This has all been very interesting, and therapeutic, I suppose, if you believe in that Freudian nonsense, but we need to focus on the problem, which is that Elizabeth has been falsely accused of being involved in a jewel robbery.”
Reminded of the gravity of her situation, Elizabeth’s spirits fell. She was in big trouble and she didn’t see how these two were going to help her. Her mother was a part-time reporter for a small town newspaper, and had had some success in solving crimes, but Elizabeth suspected that was mostly luck. As for Miss Tilley, she was sharp and had been the town librarian, but she was well over ninety years old. When you got right down to it, they were well intentioned, but that was about all they had going for them.
“So tell me about this young man,” Miss Tilley said. “Chris Kennedy. Do you think he stole the jewels?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Elizabeth said. “I really liked him.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Not that much. He was fun to be with, and he was from Boston, so we had a lot in common. He had a motorcycle. . . .”
Lucy was horrified. “A motorcycle!”
“But he had a helmet for me and he made sure that I wore it. He took good care of me.”
“And did you—” Lucy began, but she bit her tongue. Some things were personal and Elizabeth was entitled to her privacy.
“He was a gentleman, Mom. We kissed but that was all.” Elizabeth’s face softened at the memory.
“So if you put everything else aside and just trusted your reaction to him, do you think he is a thief?” Lucy asked.
“Take your time,” Miss Tilley urged. “Give it some thought.”
“I don’t have to,” Elizabeth said. “My gut reaction was that he’s a good guy. I thought he was a really, truly good person—but I’m beginning to think I can’t trust my instincts. I thought Toni was my friend, for example, and she ratted me out to the police. I’ve been way too trusting but I’m learning that people are not always who they seem to be, or what they want you to think they are.”
“And where is this young man now?” Miss Tilley asked.
“That’s the problem,” Elizabeth answered glumly. “He hasn’t returned my call. I don’t know where he is.”
Chapter 7
“Let’s stick to the facts,” Lucy said in a brisk tone. “I’ve been a reporter for a long time, I’ve interviewed all sorts of people, and I have to say it’s almost impossible to tell what people are really like underneath that social veneer. You have to see what they do and how they treat other people, get to know them over a period of time so you can see how they act and not just what they say.”
“I agree,” Miss Tilley said. “I suppose there’s no question that the jewels are re
ally missing. That’s the first fact we have to verify.”
“You mean, the whole thing could have been staged?” Lucy was definitely intrigued by the possibility. “To defraud an insurance company, for example?”
“I can’t imagine why Jonah Gruber, or Noelle, would do that. They’re rolling in money. He’s the second richest man in the world, something like that. He’s got billions,” Elizabeth said.
“How do we know that?” Miss Tilley asked. “He has a reputation for being rich, but maybe he isn’t. Maybe he’s strapped for cash.”
“Forbes magazine thinks he’s rich. They put him right at the top of their list,” Elizabeth said. “And he paid forty-seven million dollars for the Imperial Parure. I’m pretty sure Christie’s didn’t let those jewels go until they got their money.”
“That’s something we could check,” Miss Tilley said. “We could find out their payment policy.”
“I’ll make a list of questions,” Lucy offered, extracting a notebook from her handbag. “First off, we want to know if Jonah Gruber is really as rich as everybody thinks he is, right? And we want to know if Chris Kennedy is really who he says he is.”
“Have you actually seen the jewels, Elizabeth?” Miss Tilley asked. “And if you did, do you think they were real?”
“Oh, I saw them. I touched them.” Elizabeth remembered laying the bracelet across her arm, how it had felt warm and heavy. “They sure looked real to me, but how would I know? I can’t tell real pearls from fakes, or cubic zirconia from a diamond.”
“Real pearls feel warm to the skin,” Miss Tilley said, “and you can scratch glass with a genuine diamond.”
“I didn’t really have a chance to do that,” Elizabeth said defensively. “I was too busy chasing after Noelle and that photographer.”
Her sarcastic tone got her a sharp look from her mother, but Miss Tilley ignored it. “And you say Noelle was quite careless with the jewels?”
“She acted as if it was all a big chore, all except the last photos they set up. She seemed to enjoy that.”
“Because it was the end of the session?” Lucy asked.
Elizabeth remembered Noelle’s casual attitude as she arranged herself on the white fur coat, entirely naked except for the jewels. “Because she’s an exhibitionist,” Elizabeth said. “She stripped completely naked for the last photos. At first I didn’t know where to look but Layla told me that Noelle was in porn films and loves to show off her body.”
“A week or two in Tinker’s Cove would fix that,” Lucy said primly. “What was the temperature when we left?”
“Not bad,” Miss Tilley said. “It was at least ten degrees, but that doesn’t take the wind chill into account. It’s the northeast wind off the water that really cools things off.”
“That’s true,” Lucy said with a little shiver. “So after the photo session, what happened?”
“Well, Noelle tossed the jewels on the bed and she drifted off to the bathroom with Layla, carrying a terry cloth robe—one of the robes the hotel provides. There were a lot of costume changes and Layla was wearing it between photos. I gathered up the jewels and put them in the case. Layla came out of the bathroom, wearing the robe, and I told her that the jewels were in the case so she could lock it. She couldn’t find the key right away. I sort of lost track of things when I joined in the search, but the key was eventually found—she had it all along—and the case was locked and I carried it down to the manager’s office so he could put it in the safe.”
“He didn’t ask to see the jewels, to check that they were all there?” Lucy wondered.
“He couldn’t. The case was locked.”
“Did Layla still have the key?” Miss Tilley asked.
“No. She gave it to Noelle after she locked the case.”
“And what did Noelle do with the key?”
Elizabeth furrowed her brow, trying to remember. “I’m pretty sure she put it in the pocket of her robe.”
“And probably forgot it,” Lucy said, thinking of all the times she’d searched high and low for her reading glasses only to find them in her bathrobe pocket. “Anyone could have taken it. One of the maids, for instance.”
“But the case was locked away, in the safe.”
“Ah, the safe,” Miss Tilley said, sounding like Sherlock Holmes finding an important clue. “Who has the combination to the safe? Do you?”
“Only the manager and the head concierge have the combination,” said Elizabeth. “The official hotel policy is quite strict. The safe is only to be opened by Mr. Dimitri or Mr. Kronenberg.”
“But what if a guest needs something from the safe when they’re not available?” Lucy asked, making eye contact with her daughter. “If I ever heard of a rule that was made to be broken . . .”
Miss Tilley’s eyebrows rose to a startling elevation.
“You said it,” Elizabeth admitted. “It was the first thing Mr. Kronenberg showed me when I was promoted to assistant concierge. He made me promise to keep it secret, then showed me where he kept the combination.”
“So you could get into the safe?”
“I could,” Elizabeth admitted, wondering if she’d been set up by the head concierge, or the hotel manager, or both. Wouldn’t that be rich? The two most senior employees conspiring to rob a guest!
Miss Tilley broke into her thoughts. “And what if the key to the case was missing for a short while? Would Noelle have noticed?”
“I doubt it,” Lucy said. “I suspect she forgot all about the key until she needed it to open the jewel case just before the ball.”
Elizabeth suddenly felt very cold, even though it was at least eighty degrees on her sunny, plant-filled deck. Looked at this way, it wasn’t at all surprising that she was suspected of being involved with the theft. After all, she was one of the few employees entrusted with the combination to the hotel safe, and she knew how careless Noelle was with the key to the jewel case. “I didn’t do it,” she said, feeling the need to proclaim her innocence, even to herself.
“Of course not,” Lucy said, giving her a hug. “That’s why we’re here.”
Miss Tilley grasped the edge of Elizabeth’s wobbly plastic table with her knobby hands and began to raise herself, prompting Lucy to jump up and assist her at the same time Elizabeth steadied the table.
“Really!” Miss Tilley exclaimed. “I’m perfectly able, you know.”
“Of course you are.” Lucy released her grip on the old woman’s arm.
Miss Tilley turned to Elizabeth. “Where is your computer? I presume you have one?”
Lucy tidied up the lunch dishes while Elizabeth settled Miss Tilley at her little café table and showed her how to use her laptop. Then Lucy went off to her storage unit to dig out her small collection of Christmas decorations. When she returned, Miss Tilley had a plan.
“First thing tomorrow I think you should take a look at this Chris Kennedy’s apartment and see what you can find out,” she said, peering at them over the laptop.
“You mean break in?” Lucy asked, opening the box and examining the contents. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s probably been sealed by the police.”
“No way,” Elizabeth protested. “I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“I think you have to,” Miss Tilley said. “I fear the police may be right about him after all.”
Elizabeth felt sick; she’d been a fool. “What have you found?”
“He lied to you about his job. I’ve done a computer search checking every environmental organization in Florida and he is not employed by any of them as a lawyer or in any other capacity. He’s not registered with the Florida bar either.”
“So Toni was right about him,” Elizabeth said. “But what good will searching his apartment do?”
Miss Tilley scowled and glared at them through her wire-rimmed glasses. “You can find out a lot about a person when you see his home. Take Audrey Wilson, for example. She ran for selectman last spring promising to straighten out town gov
ernment, but everybody knew she lived in absolute squalor. Even her yard was filled with junk. So nobody believed her and she lost the election.”
“That’s true,” Lucy said thoughtfully, holding up a twig and berry wreath Elizabeth had hung on her dorm room door when she was in college. “I suppose we could at least take a look at the place.” She turned to Elizabeth. “Do you know where it is?”
“He pointed it out when we went by,” Elizabeth admitted, her curiosity piqued. “But I haven’t been inside.”
“It’s a start,” Lucy coaxed. “Have you got any thumbtacks? I want to hang this on the door.”
“Right here.” Elizabeth opened a kitchen drawer and extracted a plastic box of tacks. “Of course, I don’t know if he was telling the truth or not. He might not really live there at all.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Miss Tilley said.
Lucy hung the wreath, smiling at the effect, then closed the door. “It’s better than sitting around here with Miss Marple.”
“I’m not deaf, you know,” Miss Tilley said, clicking away on the keyboard.
Lucy busied herself unpacking and took a long bath while Elizabeth put fresh sheets on the bed. She only had two sets of sheets, and a few towels, so the arrival of her guests meant she needed to do the laundry if they were going to have fresh linen. When she got back from the apartment complex’s laundry room, she found the bedroom door was closed and only one lamp was burning, indicating her mother and Miss Tilley had retired for the night. It was only a little past nine but in Tinker’s Cove people went to bed early and got up early.
She put the fresh towels in the bathroom and made up the futon for herself, but she wasn’t ready to sleep. She set up the coffeepot for the morning, then settled down with a book. Her eyes followed the printed words and she turned the pages but she couldn’t have said what the story was about, as her mind was too busy working on her problems. Her last thought, before she finally turned out the light, was the realization that she had nothing in the house for breakfast.
When she woke next morning she smelled coffee and the unmistakable scent of bacon.
A Winter Wonderland Page 26