This Bitter Treasure: a romantic thriller (Palmyrton Estate Sale Mystery Series Book 3)

by S. W. Hubbard

  I peek into the stroller at Lo, sleeping so peacefully. How could this little angel be the same creature who was shrieking like a crazed wolverine fifteen minutes ago? How could timid, clingy Chrissy turn into such a demon of determination? It’s the irrationality that flummoxes me. When a child desires something, all reason and logic evaporate.

  No wonder my father couldn’t cope with being a single parent.

  How will I be any better?

  When I’m a block from my condo, my phone rings.

  “Where are you?” Sean demands.

  “Where are you? I had to walk the baby to the supermarket to get him formula.”

  “Damn! There wasn’t any in the bag?”

  “It’s okay. He’s filled up and sleeping now. We’re almost home.”

  “I’m sending an officer to your place in Ty’s car. You need the car seat to get the baby here.”

  “Where?”

  “Palmyrton PD. I’ll explain when you get here. And, Audrey—bring a checkbook.”

  Chapter 30

  The officer who arrives to drive Lo and me to the station is utterly stone-faced and without information he’s willing to share. My heart thumps as we pull up. What could possibly have happened? What kind of trouble are Ty and Charmaine in?

  If she’s been arrested, what’s going to happen to the baby?

  To his credit, the cop does help me detach Lo’s car seat from the base so I can carry him into the building without waking him.

  As soon as I enter the main lobby, I see Ty pacing.

  Good sign. If he’s out here, he hasn’t been arrested.

  He catches sight of me and in three long strides is at my side. He looks in the infant carrier and his face relaxes, but only for a moment. Then the tension returns.

  “What happened?” I ask. “Where’s Charmaine?”

  He jerks his head in the direction of the booking area. “She had a warrant out for her arrest.”

  “What! What for?”

  “Two tickets she never paid. She claims she never got the notices about court dates ‘cause of moving so much.” Ty shakes his head. “But I know Charmaine. When somethin’ bad happens, she just don’t wanna deal. She probably got ‘em and threw ’em away.”

  “But what about the apartment? What happened there that caused the police to discover the warrant?”

  “The apartment was a pit. I didn’t even want to go in, but Charmaine said as long as we were there, we should check it out. The building is small—just six units. The super was showing us the empty one when we heard all this noise in the apartment next door. Shouting and stuff getting knocked over and people running. And the super’s acting like he don’t even hear it. So I had enough and I told Charmaine let’s get outta here. The super stayed inside to fix something and we walk into the hall just when three cops are charging in and two guys from the apartment with all the noise are tryin’ to run out the back.”

  “So the cops thought you had something to do with what was going on next door?”

  “Of course. And they wouldn’t listen to me. And Charmaine was givin’ ‘em lip. Thank God Sean showed up when he did. But by that time, the other cops had already discovered the warrant on Charmaine. So they let me go, but not her.”

  “Where’s Sean now?”

  “Busy with something. He said call him when you get here.”

  My call makes Sean materialize. He holds a door open to the nether reaches of the police station and gestures us to follow. The taut strain on his face and the absolute lack of pleasure at seeing me reboots my anxiety. How much trouble could Charmaine possibly be in for unpaid traffic tickets?

  Charmaine looks nothing like her brother. Where Ty is tall and lean, Charmaine is short and curvy. Her skin tone is darker, her face rounder. Only in the intensity of their eyes do I see a resemblance. When she sees Ty holding the baby seat, she jumps up. The cop behind the desk glares at her.

  “Is Lo okay?” she asks.

  “You can see he’s sleeping. But you didn’t leave him with a full bottle. Audrey had to go to the store to buy him formula. What’s wrong with you, girl?”

  “I thought we’d be back in an hour.” Charmaine’s voice gets louder. “I didn’t know—”

  Ty waves her off. “You didn’t know, you didn’t know. I’m tired ‘a hearing all the stuff you don’t know.”

  Maybe Ty is mad that the cops arrested his sister, but I can tell he’s even madder at Charmaine.

  Sean watches the scene unfold and rubs his eyes. He pulls me away and lowers his voice. “She needs five hundred bucks in bail money or they’re going to lock her up.”

  “Lock her up! For speeding tickets?”

  “Reckless driving. She wanted to fight the tickets, but she never showed up for the court dates. So they issued a warrant. Now she has to pay the fines plus the penalties. I tried to get them to release her on her own recog, but she’s missed too many court dates. I didn’t want to tell Ty. He’s so mad, I thought he might let her spend some time in the county jail to teach her a lesson. But then he’d be stuck with the baby, and I knew you wouldn’t want him to miss school.”

  “If I write the check, they’ll let her go?”

  Sean nods. I dig into my purse for the checkbook and Sean leads me to the desk. “What were you doing there, Sean?”

  “We had that building staked out. We knew there was dealing in 2B. We were waiting for the supplier to make a big delivery before we moved in. Now that’s all blown.”

  “How did they know to run? I thought you said it was a Neighborhood Watch captain who stumbled into your surveillance.”

  Sean leans against the wall and tries to stretch his back. “Guy is too damn smart for his own good. He noticed our unmarked car in the neighborhood one too many times. Flagged down a patrol car and pointed it out. The patrol guys go over to check it out. When they realized what was going down, they must’ve looked too cheerful. Someone in 2B was watching. They started turning away customers, hiding their stash. By the time our guys caught on, it was too late. We moved in, but they took off ahead of us.”

  “But you know who they are, so can’t you arrest them?”

  “These guys are just middlemen. We’re after their suppliers. We have to stop the flow. It’s like a river of smack flowing into Palmyrton. The best we can hope to do is build a dam further upriver and divert the flow. It goes somewhere else, but that’s not my problem.”

  “So now what?”

  Sean takes a yoga breath. “We start all over again.”

  Chapter 31

  In the morning, Ty and I are alone in the office getting organized for another day at the Eskew house. Adrienne will meet us there later. He is silent, his face rigid. I know he’s angry and embarrassed about the incident with Charmaine, and I also know the best way to help him when he’s in a mood like this is to leave him alone. As I continue the research I need to price all the items for the sale, Ty picks up the ringing office phone. His brow furrows, and he puts the call on hold. “Some French lady. I can’t understand her name.”

  When I get on the line, Clothilde begins without any small talk. “I want to make a business appointment with you. This afternoon would be best. You will need to come here to Bretton Pines.”

  A business appointment? What does she mean by that? “You want me to organize a sale for you?”

  “I have nothing left to sell, but I have plenty of resources. Come and I will explain.”

  “I’d love to talk to you again, Clothilde, but the next couple days are really busy. I have to run the Eskew sale this weekend. I could come Monday afternoon.”

  “No! That is too late. I will make it worth your while.” Then her tone becomes a shade less imperious. “And I have some interesting information about Gilbert Eskew’s ancestors. His real ancestors.”

  “What?”

  “I will be waiting for you in the lounge. Any time after three will be fine.”

  Before I can ask another question, she’s gone.


  Ty freezes as we walk up the driveway of the Eskews’ house. “Whose car is that?”

  “It’s one of Tom Eskew’s—he’s also got a BMW. Why? Are you interested in vintage English sports cars?”

  Ty approaches the car as if he expects it to spring to life and tear off driverless. He circles it, shaking his head. He extends his hand and caresses the hood ornament. He crouches down and studies the long, narrow British license plate. He peers inside and sees the steering wheel on the wrong side. The whole time the furrow in his brow grows deeper and deeper.

  “Ty, what is it?”

  “This is the car from JJ’s paper.”

  “Paper? What paper? JJ who?”

  “The kid in my English class. The one I give a ride to sometimes ‘cause he can never get his mother’s car.”

  “I thought his name was Judah.”

  “It is, but his friends and family call him JJ.”

  I drop my tote bag in the driveway. “Wait, back up a minute. Darlene’s middle son is named JJ. That’s what she called him when she was telling me about her kids. She said he went to Palmer Community. And JJ is the name Rob used when I overheard him arguing with his mother. He said something about Darlene wanting to leave JJ out of this.”

  Ty’s eyes widen. “You mean all this time I’ve been giving him rides, I never realized Darlene was his mom?”

  “Didn’t you ever talk about the Eskew job?” I ask.

  Ty shakes his head. “JJ’s one of those people who” Ty makes a yak-yak motion with his hand “nonstop. I’m drivin’, I just tune him out. He never asks about my life, and I don’t tell.”

  Typical Ty—he plays his cards close to the vest even when there’s no need to. “Well, that’s quite a coincidence.”

  Ty goes back to scrutinizing Tom’s sports car. “The last class JJ came to, our assignment was to write a descriptive essay about our dream car, our dream vacation, or our dream house. Then we had to trade papers with the person next to us and give each other feedback. I read JJ’s paper. He described this car. This exact car. Right down to the license plate and the hood ornament and the steering wheel on the wrong side.”

  I don’t understand why Ty seems so stunned by this. “He must’ve seen the car one day when he came to pick up his mom.”

  Ty stands stock still with a faraway look in his eye. He’s acting awfully weird.

  “What’s the matter, Ty?”

  He snaps to attention. “JJ’s never been to the Eskews’ house. I remember once he told me his mom was workin’ at a rich person’s house and he wished he could see for himself if it was really as fancy as she said. He complains about how he never gets to use their family car—his brother or his mother always has it. That’s why he has to take the bus to school. That’s why he’s always bummin’ a ride home from me.”

  I still don’t get what Ty is on to. “So his mom must’ve told him about the car, described it to him because she knows he likes cars.”

  Ty shakes his head. “I don’t think so. The teacher’s always criticizing JJ because his writing isn’t specific enough. His other stuff that I read was all like, ‘the shore is awesome, the ocean is nice, the sun is hot.’ This paper was actually pretty good. He described every single detail of that car.”

  “So he must’ve seen it in person.”

  Ty nods. “And if JJ was never at the Eskews’ house, then that means…”

  “…Tom’s car was at Darlene and JJ’s house.”

  Why was Tom talking to Darlene? What were they planning?

  I need to talk to Darlene again. But when? The sale is only two days away, and we have so much left to do.

  Despite my packed schedule, I find myself sipping tea with Clothilde while Ty and Adrienne work at the house. I’m just too intrigued by the carrots she dangled to say no.

  “I have been doing some reading about you, Miss Nealon. It seems to me you are a very determined person. One who is not easily deterred. I admire that.”

  “Research? What do you mean?”

  “I may be old, but I can use Google like anyone else. I have read about these other crimes you have been involved with.”

  I dip my head in acknowledgement of the compliment, but an uneasy feeling stirs within me. What is she getting at?

  “Your previous visit has started me thinking.”

  I wince. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Savatier. I didn’t mean to stir up painful memories.”

  She lifts one hand for silence. “All my memories are painful. How can they not be? I have lost everything—my husband, my daughter, my grandson. No, what you have rekindled in me is desire. Desire to know the truth before I die. Nothing can bring my family back to me, but the truth can release me. I have wished to die for a very long time, but stubbornly I cling to life. Or perhaps I should say life clings to me. I don’t believe in God. I don’t believe this foolish fairy tale that I will see my family again after I pass from this world. But I do believe in la justice.”

  She stares at me so long I feel compelled to speak. “Justice.”

  “You can deliver it.”

  “Me?”

  “I want you to find out what caused Parker Eskew to kill my daughter and grandson. The truth is somewhere in that house. I will pay you handsomely.”

  I knock my spoon off the saucer and it clatters to the floor. “Mrs. Savatier, I’m not a private detective. I’m an estate sale organizer.”

  “Yet you paid me a visit previously not in that role at all, no?”

  I can’t deny it. “That’s different. I was trying to help Darlene, the caregiver. She’s about to accept a plea bargain to say that she killed Mrs. Eskew. I was certain that wasn’t true. But maybe I’m wrong. There’s some evidence that she might have been involved.”

  “You are not wrong. When you find out why Parker killed my daughter, you will find out who killed Marjorie Eskew. I am sure of it. You will help both me and her.”

  She folds her hands in her lap and sits up ramrod straight. “And you will help yourself. I will pay you one-hundred thousand dollars.”

  I aspirate some tea. “What! I can’t accept that kind of money from you.”

  “Why not? I have no one to leave it to but some charities. The Metropolitan Museum and the Red Cross will not miss it. But the money could make a difference to you, no?”

  How can she possibly know about Ty’s sister, about the house that got away? She can’t. But accepting her money could be disastrous for my business. “The Eskews are my clients. I can’t take money from you to spy on them.”

  “Ah, but you have already done some spying of your own, no? That is how you found out about Gilbert Eskew’s name change. Well, I have done a little more research on Jakub Eskein. The librarian at the Palmer County Library was most helpful.”

  The old gal is full of surprises. She looks positively smug.

  “Jakub was the younger brother of Myron Eskein,” Clothilde announces.

  “Myron Eskein? Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “He was a gangster, a member of what was known as the Kosher Mafia. Apparently a movie was made.” Clothilde shudders. “Gambling…loansharking…extortion—those were his specialties.”

  “No wonder Gilbert changed his name. Harvard wasn’t likely to take the brother of a notorious criminal. Whatever happened to Myron?”

  “He went to prison in 1956. Attica, the librarian said. But she wasn’t able to find anything about him after that.” Clothilde leans towards me. “I believe the newspaper said that when you discovered Marjorie Eskew’s body, you were with your friend who is a police officer. Perhaps he can determine what happened to Myron.”

  I have to smile. “Perhaps he can.”

  “I have been looking for a scandal to explain the death of my daughter,” Clothilde says. “This may be part of it. There is only so much I can accomplish from here.” She waves her hand at her deluxe prison. Her gnarled hand disappears from the table and rests on her lap. When she lifts it again, she’s holding a check. “If yo
u find evidence of a crime, you will of course report it to the police. Perhaps they won’t be particularly interested all these years later. But know that I will.”

  She places the check by my cup. “A first installment.”

  Pay to the order of Audrey Nealon.

  $25,000.

  I stand up and walk away.

  Chapter 32

  “The strangest call came in while you were gone,” Adrienne says when I arrive back at the Eskew house.

  “On the office phone?” Adrienne has forwarded the office phone to her cell so she can monitor it while we’re all out of the office.

  “Yeah. A collect call from an inmate at the county jail. Can you imagine? Do they want us to auction off the contents of their cell?”

  “Adrienne, that was Darlene! What did she say? What did she want?”

  “I forgot that we’re actually acquainted with someone in the county jail. Why would Darlene be calling our office? I don’t know what she wanted. I didn’t talk to her, just the operator wanting to know if we would accept the charges.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said no, of course.”

  “Oh my God—now she thinks I don’t want to talk to her!” I snatch up my phone and begin searching for the jail’s phone number.

  “Well, sorr-eee. If you were expecting a call from her, you should’ve let me know. I’ve never received a collect call in my life. I didn’t even know they still existed.”

  I wave her into silence because I’ve gotten through to the jail. “Hi, an inmate, Darlene Hayes, tried to call me and I wasn’t here to accept the charges, but now I’m back. What do I need to do to get connected?”

  “Inmates can’t receive incoming calls. You’ll have to wait until she calls you again.”

  “But she might not unless you tell her to try again. My assistant wouldn’t accept the charges. Darlene might think I don’t want to talk to her, but I do. It’s important.”