Antiques & Collectibles 09 - Mint Condition Murder

by Ellery Adams

  “Wow.” He sat back in his chair. “Mother said you were direct. She wasn’t kidding.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Molly was beginning to change her mind. Maybe he was too weak for the job. He couldn’t even handle talking to her. “We have a small satellite office in Boston,” he said. “I try to stop by once a month. Last January, I was there for some meetings with a client, and when they were over, I stopped into the Union Oyster House for clam chowder and corn bread. I was sitting at the bar, minding my own business, when this woman comes up to me and says, ‘I’m Charlotte Blair, and you’re Wyatt Lyman. Do you remember me?’” He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe she’d recognized me. I was in great shape back then.” He paused, and stared down at his stomach. “Well, maybe not so great, but better than now.” He gave a slight shrug, and looked back at Molly. “Anyway, I was flattered. Of course I remembered her. You don’t forget someone like Charlotte. We first met years ago, at a nightclub. I liked to meet up with friends there on Friday nights after work.” So far, so good, Molly thought. He was confirming what Theodore had told her. “Charlotte was a regular. I didn’t know her well. She was someone I’d say hello to, we’d have a little small talk, that kind of thing. But you couldn’t not notice her. She was breathtakingly beautiful.” His eyelids closed slightly, remembering the lovely blond girl on the dance floor that all the men were in love with. His eyes opened wide, and he laughed. “She was something else, really. A big flirt, but elusive. She was all look but don’t touch. And, of course, that only added to her allure.”

  “Did she flirt with you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, but she flirted with all the men.”

  “How did Alison feel about her flirting with you?”

  Wyatt looked at her. “Why do you ask?”

  “I heard she can be jealous.”

  “It’s more like she has a tendency to be overdramatic. Alison loves attention. If I get distracted, she’ll make sure I don’t forget she’s around. But she didn’t go to Katz with me very often. I doubt she ever noticed Charlotte.”

  And I bet she did, Molly thought, if she was flirting and making a spectacle of herself on the dance floor.

  “Let’s return to January. She reintroduced herself to you at the Oyster House.”

  “Right, and the next thing I know, I’m accepting an invitation to go out to dinner with her.” His face flushed. “I didn’t intend to spend the night with her, but I drank too much wine, and, well . . .” His voice trailed away, and the flush became crimson. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, I’m not proud of it, but I stayed the night with her, and if that wasn’t bad enough, I went back the next night.” The crimson blush turned beet red. Molly actually thought this was a good sign. He was embarrassed, and maybe that meant he had remorse. It was better than being smug. “I hate talking about this,” he said. “There’s no excuse for what I did. I mean, I suppose I could say she seduced me, and I gave in, which is true to some extent, but I had the chance the walk away, and I didn’t take it. I wish I had, believe me. I felt rotten cheating on Alison, and as time went on, I realized I’d dug myself a big hole. To make matters worse, Charlotte started getting clingy, and I knew it couldn’t go on.”

  “Pamela told me you ended it. How?”

  “Last August, Alison was in a car accident. She’d swerved to avoid hitting a deer, wrecked the car, and was injured. It was just the excuse I needed to tell Charlotte it was over, that I couldn’t see her anymore. I wanted to recommit myself to Alison, and concentrate on taking care of her, and our two daughters.” He rubbed the back of his neck, which Molly imagined was as red as his face. “Charlotte didn’t take the news well at all. I know this sounds naïve, but I thought she might be okay with the breakup. I couldn’t be in Boston more than a week each month without raising Alison’s suspicions. I told her she deserved someone who could be there for her all the time.” He took another deep breath. “She got angry, accused me of leading her on, said she thought I was going to leave Alison, and marry her, and we’d have kids of our own.” He shook his head. “I have no idea how she got that idea into her head. I swear, I never promised her anything. It was supposed to be fun.”

  Until it wasn’t anymore, at least for him, Molly thought.

  “Did she threaten to tell Alison about the affair?”

  He looked at her. “Detective Lombardi asked me the same question. Are you working with him?”

  “I’m a reporter, not a cop,” she said, as if that explained everything. She wasn’t about to tell him that if he confessed to murdering Charlotte, or she even suspected it, she would tell Lombardi.

  “Well, as I told the cop, the answer is yes. She did threaten to tell her. And I admit, I was scared that she would. Now I’m scared that cop is going to arrest me for a crime I didn’t commit, all because I stayed home on Monday morning to get some work done, and I have no way to prove I was there, and didn’t drive out to A Checkered Past, and kill her.” He sat back with a heavy sigh. “And it gets worse. A couple of weeks after I broke up with Charlotte, she started calling me. Sometimes it was only once a day, but more often, half a dozen. She left numerous voice mails, and they were all the same. She missed me, she loved me, she needed to talk to me. For weeks, I ignored her, but it was driving me crazy, all those calls. So, finally, I called her back. I thought I might be able to reason with her, and encourage her to move on, to find someone else who could give her what she wanted, because it wasn’t going to be me.” He gripped the armrests of the chair, his fingers turning white. “She told me she was going to open a new store called A Checkered Past, and it was here, in Burlington.” His voice rose an octave. “She did it to get back at me for breaking up with her, because she knew I wanted that property.”

  Molly was confused. “You wanted the house she bought?”

  “No, not the house, the property, the land.” His voice was getting loud. “I made the mistake of telling her about it.” He stopped to take a deep breath through his nose, trying to calm down. “For almost a year, I’ve been working to convince the owner to sell me his thirty-two acres. We’ve drawn up detailed plans for a new mixed-use development we want to build, we’ve gone out of our way to accommodate him. And suddenly, there’s Charlotte, telling me she bought two acres of that land. I couldn’t believe it. It sits smack in the middle of the other thirty acres.” He shook his head. “I was angry, I really was, but not as much with her as with him. He sold it to her without telling me, and now he refuses to speak to me.” His tone had lowered, but his voice had become brittle. “Charlotte was vindictive. I know that now. She knew full well how much I was counting on buying that property. And if that isn’t bad enough, she had the nerve to try to extort one million dollars from me.”

  Molly felt her eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean? How?”

  “She said, if I paid her a million for the property, I could have it. It was outrageous. The land is only worth about three hundred thousand, maybe four. She was getting revenge, because I’d broken up with her. And if I didn’t pay . . . well, she didn’t have to say it out loud.”

  “She would tell Alison.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “I had no doubt.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and lowered his head into his hands. “I agreed to buy the land for a million. I didn’t even try to negotiate the price with her, I just wanted it to be over.” He lifted his gaze. “And to make matters worse, I gave her ten thousand dollars, cash.”

  Molly was shocked. “What? Why?”

  “Charlotte insisted I meet her in person at the shop. She looked so sad and crushed, I felt terrible.” He hung his head. “She got to me, Molly. I’m so weak.”

  Oh, my God, Molly thought. He is his own worst enemy. “Did you tell Detective Lombardi about this in-person meeting?”

  “Yes, but I, ah . . .” He hesitated. “But I’m an idiot, okay? I sort of didn’t tell him about the ten grand, because I dropped it off on Sunday.”

  “You sort of didn’t tell him?
” Molly was astounded.

  “Charlotte gave me a sob story. She said she’d overestimated how much it was going to cost to get the new business up and running, and she needed some money to tide her over until we could close on the property. She asked me if I could give it to her, said I could deduct it from the price, so I agreed. I didn’t think it mattered at that point.”

  Molly sighed. “You’ll have to tell Detective Lombardi, and soon.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  This explained where the ten thousand dollars came from that Lombardi had found in Charlotte’s cashbox, but he was not going to be happy about the fact that Wyatt had failed to mention he gave it to her.

  “Just to be clear. You said you met with Charlotte on Sunday, in person, but you only told Detective Lombardi that you’d spoken to her?” He nodded in the affirmative. “So, we’re talking about you meeting with her the day before she died?”

  He nodded again. “Yes.”

  “When did you deliver the ten thousand dollars to her?”

  If he says Monday morning, she thought, he’s toast.

  “The same day. We met in the morning, I went home and got the money out of my safe. I drove back, gave it to her, and left.” She thought of Charlotte’s antique desk, and the original owner, who’d probably built that secret hiding place to store his own stash of money. “Be honest, Molly, how bad is this for me?”

  “It’s not good,” she said. He really had put himself in jeopardy. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Lombardi showed up and arrested him right then and there. “As soon as I leave, get on the phone, and call Detective Lombardi and tell him everything you’ve just told me. If you reach his voice mail, leave a detailed message. Don’t wait.”

  “Okay. I’ll do it, straightaway.” He hunched his shoulders, which made it appear he was shrinking in the chair. “Mother said you’re going to see Alison. She’s very upset with me. I don’t know what she’s going to tell you, but please bear in mind, she’s a very sensitive person, and gets emotional about things at the drop of a hat.”

  Molly didn’t think his cheating on her was a “drop of a hat” kind of emotion. If she had to pick sides, she would pick Alison’s any day of the week on this one.

  “How did she take the news when you told her?”

  “How do you think? She yelled at me, told me I was a horrible husband, and a worse father. She said she isn’t coming home any time soon.”

  Molly was confused. “She hasn’t been home?”

  “Not for the last two weeks. She’s been staying with her parents, with the girls. Her mother had an operation a couple of weeks ago. Alison wanted to make sure she was being properly cared for while recovering. My father-in-law is a golf maniac, and until the snow flies, he’s nowhere to be found, unless you’re looking on the links.”

  “I heard Alison is a nurse. Who does she work for?”

  “Dr. Marketa Mayes. She’s a plastic surgeon. Alison worked full-time until her accident, and since then, she’s been part-time, only three days a week.”

  “Was she badly injured?”

  “She broke her wrist, but the worst injury was to her face, a gash on her cheek. Lucky for her, Dr. Mayes was able to stitch her up good as new.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Jasmine stuck her head in. “Wyatt, a reminder, you have a conference call starting in five minutes. You can’t be late for it.”

  “Thanks, Jasmine.” She closed the door, and he turned back to Molly. “She takes good care of me. Anyway, I have to be on that call.” They walked to the door, but before he opened it, he said, “I’d like to know the honest truth, even if it hurts. Do you think I’m going to be arrested?”

  This is really all he cares about, she thought. Not that she could blame him, after what he’d just told her.

  “If I was you, I’d listen to your mother and hire a criminal attorney.”

  “My God.” His face fell. “It’s really that bad.”

  “Detective Lombardi is very good at his job. He doesn’t make mistakes. But innocent people need a lawyer when the police come knocking. It doesn’t matter what the crime is. You could call Elliott Gellman. He’s one of the best defense attorneys in Vermont. Tell him I referred you.”

  Molly knew Lombardi wouldn’t be overjoyed that she’d referred Wyatt, who was probably his prime suspect, to Gellman. He had gone up against him in court too many times and lost. But she wasn’t convinced that Wyatt was responsible for Charlotte’s murder. There were too many other people who could have had a motive, and one of them was his wife.

  Wyatt held the door open for Molly, and Jasmine immediately came around her desk, ready to escort her downstairs.

  Molly turned back to Wyatt. “I forgot to ask you. Who is the property owner you’ve been trying to buy that land from?”

  “His name is Quincy Clarke, but if you plan on asking him why he had the gall to sell to Charlotte while we’ve been trying to work something out, good luck. He refuses to give me a reason.”

  Chapter 15

  Quincy Clarke was like a bad penny that kept turning up. And he still hadn’t returned Molly’s call. It was times like this she wished she had a staff, someone who could make the calls and badger people who didn’t call back. As it was, she was on her own and had to make the best of it.

  Alison’s parents lived in an old established neighborhood of stately homes set well back from the road. A Lexus sedan was in front of the garage, and Molly pulled up behind it to park. As soon as she switched off the engine, she saw the front door open. Alison had been waiting for her.

  The rain had finally slacked off, but it was still drizzling. Molly put the hood up on her jacket, and as she walked up the path, she saw Alison force a smile. She had soft golden hair she wore pulled back in a ponytail, a round cherubic face with bow lips, and big brown eyes.

  “I hope I haven’t interrupted your yoga workout,” Molly said.

  “I finished five minutes ago.” Alison hung Molly’s jacket in the coat closet. She was dressed in a sleeveless blue-and-white-striped yoga top and stretchy gray leggings. Molly thought she and Wyatt were an odd couple. Alison was very fit, her arms muscular. By comparison, Wyatt was pudgy and squishy, and she far outshone him. “I don’t know what I would do without yoga. I’ve been practicing for five years, and I think it’s the only thing helping me to stay centered right now.”

  They went into the living room, which was directly off the foyer. It was a formal room furnished in dark, heavy wood. None of it was new, but it was all in pristine condition. It was one of those rooms that were rarely used, and probably hadn’t changed since Alison’s parents had moved into the house, which could have been forty years ago, given the age of the neighborhood.

  Alison made herself comfortable on the couch, plumping down on it, and tucking her feet up under her. Molly took a wing chair near a cold fireplace where a mantel clock was ticking quietly. The whole house sounded still and empty, and she wondered where her mother was.

  “I just came from meeting with Wyatt,” she said. “He told me your mother has been recuperating. Is she feeling better?”

  “Yes, very much so. She had her appendix removed. She also had underlying medical conditions, though, which is why I wanted to be here. My father isn’t around much.”

  “Wyatt mentioned he plays golf.”

  “He’s obsessed with the game. Anyway, I thought it would be nice to come and keep an eye on her, and the girls came with me.” A small smile touched her lips. “Annie is thirteen, and Margo is ten. They’re such good girls. They’re in school now. Mother’s upstairs, resting. My father is, as usual, at the golf course.” She glanced at the mantel clock. “He won’t be home for a couple more hours.” She paused. “I think you should know, the only reason I agreed to talk to you is because Pamela asked me to. The policeman who came to see me yesterday greatly upset me, and I don’t relish having to repeat what I told him.”

  “I understand. I know this is a difficult time for
you.”

  Alison lifted her chin, trying to look brave. “I’m angry at Wyatt, and quite frankly, I wouldn’t care if the police arrested him for killing that nasty home-wrecker. He would deserve it, even if he’s innocent.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, great, here go the waterworks again.” She blinked furiously, trying to bat the tears away. “I thought I’d gotten it under control. I’ve been crying so much, and the girls started asking me what was wrong. I finally caved and told them the truth, that their father had cheated on me, and I’m not sure if I can ever go back to him.” Molly felt a wave of pity for Alison. Wyatt had hurt her, and he’d put her in an untenable situation with their children. “Maybe I should have lied to them. My mother told me it was a mistake, that they’re too young to understand, but I didn’t want to lie, then I’d be like their father. Did I do wrong?”

  “You know your children better than anyone. I don’t think you would have told them if you didn’t think they could handle it. How are they coping?”

  “They told me this morning they want to go home. They think everything will get better once Daddy and I are together again.” Alison sighed deeply. “I don’t know what to do.” Molly wasn’t sure what she would do if she was in Alison’s position. It would be difficult to go back to a husband who’d been lying and cheating for most of a year. Alison went on. “Wyatt can’t erase what he did. He can’t fix what he’s broken. But we can’t stay with my parents forever. The girls miss their friends in our neighborhood, and I know they miss Wyatt. It’s all such a rotten mess.” The waterworks finally won, and she started to cry in earnest. She hopped up off the sofa and left the room. Molly didn’t know what to do. Go after her and try to find her, or stay? Alison returned a few minutes later, her crying under control, holding a tissue box in her hand. She curled up on the sofa again, and plucked a tissue out of the box, holding it to her damp eyes. “Pamela thinks Wyatt and I should agree to marriage counseling, but I don’t know if I can stand being around him, even in counseling. What do you think I should do?”