by Joanna Wayne
The police already had the prince angle from last fall’s interrogation of Sarah, information they’d ignored at the time.
Now Nick had an hour to shower, pick up Jacinth from Tulane and keep the appointment he had with Jeff Casey at Casey’s Gems and Diamonds.
Nick and Casey had been roommates at LSU for two semesters. Jeff was a tell-it-like-it-is kind of guy. Casey’s father had been in the jewelry business in the Uptown area for years. Trust and knowledge. Nick figured he was getting the jewelry dream team.
But simply telling him the brooch was worth fifty dollars would amount to no help at all.
JACINTH GLANCED IN THE GLASS cases as they entered the jewelry store, admiring gorgeous necklaces and earrings that she’d never afford on a history professor’s salary. Fortunately, that didn’t bother her in the least. Having enough money to put a plumber on retainer, however, would be luxury beyond compare.
A slim and sophisticated-looking middle-aged woman looked up and smiled. “Good afternoon. Are you looking for anything special today?”
“We’re here to see Jeff,” Nick said. “He’s expecting us.”
“Then you must be Nick Bruno, All-American running back for the Tigers two years in a row.”
Nick grinned. “Only because Jeff kept those monster SEC tackles away from me.”
“And you must be Jacinth, Marie’s granddaughter.”
That took Jacinth by surprise. “Did you know Marie?”
“For years. Knew and loved her.” She extended a hand. “I’m Eleanor Casey, Jeff’s mother.”
“I’m so glad to meet you. Actually, I’m glad to meet anyone who knew my grandmother well. I’m still learning about her.”
“I only knew Marie as a customer, but she was quite charming. Always pleasant. She spoke of you often. You and your sister. Caitlyn, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s Caitlyn. What types of things did she say about us?”
“Now you’re putting me on the spot.”
“I don’t mean to. It’s just that she and my mother had quit speaking years ago, so I can’t imagine how Marie kept up with us.”
That brought an even bigger smile to Eleanor’s lips. “Trust me, Marie had her ways. If it was important to her, she saw that it happened. My husband can attest to that. He and Jeff are expecting you two. Let me tell them that you’re here.”
Jacinth went back to perusing jewelry.
Nick stepped to her elbow and put his mouth to her ear. “Don’t waste your money on this overpriced merchandise. If you’re looking for value, I have an antique brooch I can sell you.”
“Is it under fifty dollars?”
“Forty-nine ninety-five, plus tax and handling.”
“Whatever he’s telling you, don’t believe him,” a male voice cautioned from the back of the store.
“Watch it, bruiser. Don’t step on my lines.”
Jacinth stood back while the two old college buddies went through the joking and arm-punching routine. But once they’d finished with that and she’d been officially introduced, they quickly got down to business. Jeff led them to the back of the store.
“Dad’s the real appraisal expert,” Jeff said. “I mostly handle the financial end of the business.” He led them over to an older man.
“Dad, meet my buddy Nick Bruno and his friend Jacinth Villaré.”
Mr. Casey stood and shook their hands. “I remember you, Nick. We never met, but I watched you make some great game-winning runs for the Tigers.”
Nick’s football achievement was yet another part of Nick’s life that she knew nothing about.
“I knew your grandmother, Jacinth. She drove a hard bargain, that one. Now let me have a look at that brooch you want appraised.”
Nick pulled the brooch from his pocket and handed it to Mr. Casey.
Mr. Casey picked up first one and then another of the eye loupes he had lined up on his desk. His mouth was constantly in motion as he studied the brooch, his lips twisting, slanting and puffing out. Jacinth had no idea what any of those expressions meant.
When Mr. Casey returned the last loupe to the table, he scooted his chair away from his desk and looked first at Nick and then at her.
“It’s in excellent shape, the stone, the silver, the settings, almost like new though it’s been through several generations of the Villaré family.”
Nick pushed his chair closer to the desk. “Are you certain it was owned by a Villaré?”
“Absolutely certain. Marie had three of these in her possession at one time, plus the original, that I trust you are keeping in a very safe place, Jacinth.”
“What’s that copy worth?” Nick asked.
“I gave Luther Villaré twenty thousand dollars for one just like it the year before he was murdered.”
Twenty thousand dollars for a brooch Marie had given the woman she thought would be her future daughter-in-law and Carrie had been excited about Luther giving her fifty of that. Jacinth hated to think ill of the dead, but Carrie was lucky to be rid of him.
“I hate to admit it, Mr. Casey, but I’m totally confused by this original/copy discussion,” Jacinth said.
“No problem. I’ll see if I can clear it up for you. Now I’m going by what Marie told me, so I can’t swear to the facts surrounding the original purchase, but I have seen the original and Marie definitely owned it. I appraised it myself and attested to its value when she had it insured. You should have all that information somewhere in the paperwork you received from the attorney who executed her will.”
“I don’t have any insurance forms.”
Nor did she have the original brooch. “Did she keep the brooch in a safe-deposit box?”
“No. I suggested she do just that, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She didn’t trust banks and she claimed she had the perfect hiding place. Said she’d never told a soul where that was.”
“What’s the difference between a copy and the original?” Nick asked.
“Sapphires have the same qualifiers as other precious gems. Size, cut, color, clarity, overall quality, even its geographic origin can affect the price. Right now sapphires from Burma and Kashmir are the most valuable. And once the stone is set into a piece of jewelry, the setting and the reputation of the artist come into play.”
“Put it this way,” Nick said. “If you put the original next to the copy sitting on your desk right now, would a novice like me be able to tell the difference?”
“As someone who makes my living selling fine jewelry, I’d like to think the differences would be obvious. But if they’re not sitting side by side, you might be fooled. Someone familiar with fine jewelry wouldn’t. I can promise you that Marie Villaré would instantly notice the difference.”
“Did she ever mention how she came to have the original and the copies?” Jacinth asked.
“Only every time she considered selling one of the copies.” Mr. Casey chuckled and pushed his eyeglasses up his nose. “She said her mother was so excited when she finally had a girl after four boys and several years of barrenness that her husband splurged and had the original brooch made to celebrate the occasion. That was before the big stock market crash, mind you.”
“And the copies?” Nick asked.
“Jonathan Villaré was partial to his sons. So as not to slight them, he had copies of the splendid brooch made for each of his four sons to give their wives when they became engaged, thinking that the original would be passed on from Elizabeth to her beloved daughter, Marie.”
“I’d say Jonathan Villaré was a very generous man,” Nick said.
“Marie definitely inherited that trait from him, though to put things in perspective, Jonathan paid nowhere near what the brooches are worth today. And, according to Marie, her mother had her own inheritance, so I’m sure the two of them lived quite well.”
“Why do you say my grandmother was generous?” Jacinth asked.
“Marie had enough to live on, but only because she lived frugally. But whenever she ran into someone in need,
she’d go rummaging in the family jewelry box and come up with a new semiprecious trinket to sell.
“By the time she died, she had little of value left, except the sapphire brooch and the copies, of course. And those, along with the crumbling old Villaré mansion, were to be her legacy to you and Caitlyn.”
A legacy that just might get her killed.
“So how much money are we talking with the original?” Nick asked. “A hundred thousand? Two hundred thousand?”
Mr. Casey poked his thumb into the air. “Higher.”
“Three hundred thousand?”
“This could take all day.”
“So what are we looking at?” Nick insisted.
“Approximately three-quarters of a million dollars, give or take a thousand or two.”
“Bingo.”
“I can see how my grandmother had the original and the one copy belonging to Nathanial,” Jacinth said. “But how did she end up with three copies?”
“She and her husband purchased them from Nat’s brothers so that she’d have copies for you, Caitlyn and whoever Luther married.”
“What had she planned to do with the original?”
“She never said. I figured it was her insurance policy, in case her money ran out before she died.”
And the money had been running out, which was how Jacinth and Caitlyn ended up owing back taxes on the house.
But apparently Marie hadn’t sold the brooch, since there hadn’t even been enough cash in the estate to pay all the funeral expenses.
So where was the original brooch? And who believed it was rightfully theirs and had threatened to kill Jacinth for it? And why kill three innocent women?
The more answers she discovered, the more confused she became. The mansion was beginning to feel more and more like a nightmare and nothing like home.
JACINTH HAD INSISTED she couldn’t eat a bite when Nick pulled into the valet line at Emeril’s restaurant. Her mind was in a state of information overload and for some crazy reason she kept picturing the killer as a prince in velvet attire holding a knife in one hand and the sapphire brooch in the other.
As usual, Nick was starving. He ignored her explained lack of appetite and ordered for both of them.
“Whoever left that note is after the original brooch,” Nick said as soon as the waiter stepped away. “Whether or not it’s actually in the house or not, he believes it is. What we have to figure out is who knows about the brooch and would feel they’re entitled to it.”
“Carrie,” Jacinth said, saying the first name that popped into her head. “Though she might only be looking for a copy. Marie could have told her she had two more and Luther cheated her out of the brooch that was supposed to go to her.”
“Or she could have found out about the original and wants it though it was never hers,” Nick said, going along with the theory. “And she’s convinced it’s hidden somewhere inside the house.”
“Because if Marie had told her about the brooch, she might have mentioned it was hidden in a place where no one can ever find it. Only Carrie believes she can.”
“There are a few major problems with that theory,” Nick said. “One, how is she getting into the house without breaking in?”
“Marie may have shown her a secret passageway.”
“Ron Greene was just grasping at straws when he mentioned that yesterday morning.”
“Yes, but with all you had to tell me last night, I forgot to tell you about my conversation yesterday with Dr. Jefferies.”
“Good old Dr. Jefferies, always there when you need him.”
“He’s my mentor, Nick. Nothing more, but you are cute when you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous. Tell me about the secret passageway.”
She explained about Victoria and her becoming a spy to save Confederate soldiers.
“It sounds extremely likely that the passageway is sealed.”
“Likely, but not definite,” she said. “At least we need to consider its being a viable entry into the house when we’re proposing our theories. Now, what’s reason number two?”
The waiter interrupted with a beer, a glass of white wine and an appetizer that quickly changed Jacinth’s mind about eating.
“That looks fabulous.”
“It’s very popular,” the waiter said, before leaving them alone again.
“Try it.” Nick forked a bite and attempted to feed it to her.
“First, tell me what it is.”
“Andouille sausage.”
“What’s the green stuff?”
“Boy, you are a Yankee.”
“I was born in New Orleans,” she reminded him.
“Then you should know Southern greens when you see them.”
“But what kind of Southern greens?”
“Taste it. They’ll be so delicious you won’t care.”
“Translation—you don’t know.”
She opened her mouth and the delicious mingling of flavors exploded against her taste buds. “Mmm.”
“See, a good chef, like a good man, never lets you down.”
Nick knew what she’d been through the past few days, what they’d both been through, and that the worst might be still to come. The teasing conversation was his way of keeping her spirits from dragging rock bottom. The amazing thing was that his efforts were working. She took another bite, this one on her own.
“Thanks,” she said as the food found its way to her empty stomach.
“For what?”
The reasons that came to mind all sounded mushy or like she was trying to force the relationship again.
“Thanks for knowing how to say andouille.”
“That’s nothing. Wait until I teach you about Boudin.”
They finished their appetizer and their entrées and had started on steaming cups of café au lait before the talk went back to sapphire brooches and killers. The relaxed mood faded quickly.
Jacinth sipped her coffee. “You left off at number two on your eliminate-Carrie-as-a-suspect list.”
“Refresh my memory. What was one?”
“The question of how she could get into the locked house without breaking in.”
“Right. Two—I’m pretty damn sure she’s not the one who hammered me yesterday when I was leaving Sarah’s apartment. And three, what is her motive for killing Joy Adams?”
Jacinth felt the weight of frustration crushing down on her again, but she just couldn’t believe they were dealing with two monsters. One who’d killed Joy Adams and perhaps two other women. Another who was threatening Jacinth for stealing a necklace worth three-quarters of a million dollars.
“Maybe we should start with suspects who might have a motive for murdering Joy Adams.”
“You go first,” Nick said. “I’ll play devil’s advocate.”
“Based on what you told me Sarah said about Eric Ladeaux, I’d go with him. Joy’s jilted lover. Knew Marie well. Had been in this house many times before. If there’s a way to sneak in through the attic or loose bricks or some other anomaly, he’d know about it. And for the kicker, he likely knows of the authentic sapphire brooch.”
“If he’s guilty, who’s the prince and how did he get Marie’s fake brooch?”
“Maybe that wasn’t Marie’s. Maybe he really is a foreign prince who fell in love with an American dancer and purchased the brooch that Luther sold to your friend Jeff after he’d started dating Joy.”
“That’s possible,” Nick said reluctantly.
“Then let’s hear your top choice.”
“Carrie Marks’s licentious lover, who was either eavesdropping on our conversation the other night or else had just left for more beer, leaving his chips and dip behind.”
“But you didn’t see this lover or even know for sure that he exists.”
“Nope. Just a hunch on my part.”
“But the theory does make sense,” she admitted. “Carrie somehow hooked up with a serial killer, maybe through one of those online dating services or ju
st when she was out with her friends.
“She would have talked about Luther, even told him about Marie’s jewels, especially the valuable brooch that might be hidden in the house.”
“And mentioned that the house was empty,” Nick said.
“The perfect place for him to kill his victims and hide their bodies,” Jacinth said. “He may have been searching for the brooch for a while now, but since his crimes have come to light, he has to move quickly. So he leaves me a threatening note to get me out of the house, so that he can find the sapphire brooch.”
Nick drained the last drop of his coffee and pushed his cup away. “Are you sure you’re not a cop?”
“Just a mystery novel aficionado. We should call Detective Greene.”
“All we have is a theory, Jacinth. This is the point where good detective work is all-important.”
“And Detective Greene is a detective.”
“So am I, and I’d like to handle this as a solo act for now.”
“It’s too dangerous, Nick. Confronting murder suspects is the NOPD’s job. They’re trained for situations like this.”
“The CIA didn’t exactly train me for shooting spit-balls.”
“Then all we have to do is get the goods on this guy.”
“Not we. Me. I fly solo.”
“If you’re going to question Carrie, I’m going with you.”
“You’re going with me straight back to Casey’s Gems and Diamonds. You’ll be safe there until I can get to Westwego and back again.” Nick signed the credit card receipt the waiter had left when he’d brought their coffee.
“You have a gun.”
“More than one,” he corrected, “and I’m a crack shot.”
“And you said you could protect me. So, prove it, Nick. Prove it at Carrie’s house.”
“Not happening, because you won’t be at Carrie’s. C’mon. We’re wasting time arguing about this.”
She unzipped her handbag, took out her cell phone and started punching in numbers.
“Who are you calling?” he demanded.
“I need to speak with Detective Ron Greene,” she bluffed into her phone. “Tell him Jacinth Villaré is calling and that it’s extremely—”