Something Fishy

by Lois Schmitt

  “I’m a reporter doing a piece on coins, and I’d like to ask Mr. Cunningham a few questions about his late brother’s collection.”

  She didn’t step aside. “I don’t know if—”

  “Who’s at the door, Bertha?” a male voice bellowed.

  “A reporter.”

  “What does she want?”

  The nurse hesitated.

  “I asked, what does she want?”

  “She has questions about your late brother’s coins.”

  “Send her in.”

  The nurse stood her ground for a few seconds, sighed, and stepped aside. I followed her to the living room where I faced an elderly man sitting in a wheelchair. Judging by his bulbous nose covered in purple veins, I had the feeling he was a heavy drinker. That thought was confirmed by his next comment to me.

  “Did you bring any scotch? All she gives me is water or tea.” He pointed a thumb at the nurse.

  “Sorry.” I smiled.

  “No harm asking. What do you want to know about the coin collection? It should have been mine.”

  “I understand it included a 1943 copper wheat penny.”

  “At one time it did. The coin was stolen.”

  “How do you know that? Maybe your brother sold it before he died.”

  Rupert’s face turned red as he shook his head. “Absolutely not. That copper penny is the reason we were estranged.”

  Rupert hadn’t told me to sit, but I slid into a nearby chair as he began his story.

  “I never had nearly as much money as Marshall, but I was comfortable. Then I faced financial adversity. I received a stock tip. I put all of my money into one stock and purchased more of it on margin.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you know what that means?”

  “Yes. Basically, you borrowed to buy the stock, hoping it would go up in value.”

  “Instead it tanked. Embezzlement scandal with the CFO, but no need to get into that now. Point is, I received a margin call. That meant I needed money immediately to pay for what I owed—I needed three hundred thousand. I scraped together a half, and I asked my brother to loan me the rest. He refused. Said he didn’t have cash available. The market was on a downward trend, and he’d take a beating if he sold any of his investments.”

  I leaned forward in my seat as he continued.

  “I knew his copper wheat penny was worth nearly $100,000. I asked him if he would sell it and one other coin worth $50,000. After all, he didn’t have a spouse or children. I would be getting his money when he died. Or so I thought.”

  Rupert coughed, then took a sip of water from a glass on an adjacent table. He continued. “Marshall refused. Said the penny was his most prized possession. As long as he had a breath in him, he would keep the coin and every other one in the collection. I stormed out of his house and never spoke to him again. I had to empty most of my retirement account. I lost everything. All I have is this house. There’s a reverse mortgage on it. I use that money to pay the nurse and medical expenses not covered by Medicare. I’m living on social security and a small pension.”

  “He didn’t leave you anything when he died?

  “The day I walked out of his house, he changed his will and left everything to that prep school. Did you bring scotch?”

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Ten o’clock at night, and I was hiding among the tall beach grass on a dune next to Ruby Diamond’s cottage. I shivered as I buttoned up my jacket. Only a week since I’d last been here, but autumn temperatures drop quickly as late October approaches.

  I watched through my binoculars as it came into view—a boat occupied by a sole individual. Seconds later, lights flashed from the boat’s bow. Then came lights from Ruby’s cottage followed by darkness. The pattern continued.

  Exactly as it happened last Thursday, Ruby Diamond emerged from her house with a flashlight and made her way to the shore line.

  The boat now was at the water’s edge. I recognized the occupant as Kyle. He hopped out and pulled the craft to shore. He handed a large box to Ruby, and she handed something to him.

  Suddenly, lights flooded the beach. Above me, the sound of a whirling helicopter filled the sky.

  “This is the Drug Enforcement Agency,” a voice called over a loudspeaker. The helicopter hovered directly over the spot where Ruby and her companion stood. “Stay where you are with your hands up.”

  Four cars with sirens blasting drove up to the beach and nearly a dozen men and women in uniform, guns out of holster, emerged from their vehicles.

  Glued to my spot, I watched as an agent grabbed the package, tore it open, and nodded to an associate who promptly handcuffed Ruby and Kyle. The two were escorted to a car while three Drug Enforcement Agents headed into her cottage where I presumed they would be conducting a search.

  I was still watching the action when a voice behind me said, ”Turn around slowly with your hands up.”

  I did as told and found myself facing a Drug Enforcement Agent. She appeared to be more than six feet tall and was pointing a gun at me. She did not look happy.

  It’s okay,” I said. “I’m the one who called Agent Colby and gave him the tip about the drugs. I’m a reporter. My name is Kristy Farrell. My identification is in my bag.”

  “Keep your hands up.” Her gun was still pointed at me. “Agent Colby is down below. We’ll see him now and sort this out. But even if you gave him a tip, I’m sure he didn’t give you permission to be here. Let’s go.”

  She marched me along the beach to the cottage.

  “Agent Colby, I found this one hiding in the tall grass near the embankment,” she said to an agent standing near the back door of Ruby’s cottage. “Her name is Kristy Farrell. She claims she’s the reporter—”

  “You can put down your gun,” he said. “She’s telling the truth.” He frowned at me. “But you shouldn’t be here. This is dangerous.”

  “I wanted to see what happened, so I could include it in the article I’m writing.”

  “If Ruby had seen you she might have aborted the entire operation, and we would have had nothing.” He shook his head. “Get out of here. Agent Zipser, escort her to her car and make sure she leaves.”

  I spotted a slight smile on his lips as he added, “But thanks for the tip.”

  “So, you’re a reporter, eh,” said Agent Zipser as we hiked back to my car. “How did you get the tip about the drugs? An informer?”

  “No. I had a strong hunch based on several factors. I had spotted flashing lights coming from the bay and from Ruby’s cottage. I figured it was a code. I also overheard Kyle talking about changing Tuesday’s operation to Thursday. Ruby made it clear she didn’t want to have that conversation in front of me. And Ruby’s argument about keeping this land pristine didn’t ring true. While Ruby protested the aquarium move to acquire the property, she only gave token opposition to Lucien Moray’s development. A true environmentalist would be against Moray.”

  “What does her environmental stance have to do with this?”

  “The aquarium was planning a research camp on the land directly next to Ruby’s cottage. That meant there would be people present at night who might get curious. Meanwhile, Moray’s plan included a buffer of vacant beach adjacent to Ruby’s land.”

  “All this is still a hunch. Agent Colby wouldn’t approve tonight’s operation without proof.”

  “Oh, there’s more. I had written an article two months ago on wildlife smuggling. One of the most common means of bringing contraband into the United States is in hidden compartments. Ruby’s vase in the storage room in Gracie’s Gift Shoppe was much heavier than the vase for sale out front, but they were the same size and shape, so I suspected a false bottom.”

  “How did you know it would be drugs? Why not something else, like diamonds? Or counterfeit money?”

  “I came out here last Thursday and o
verheard a conversation between Ruby and Kyle. The word pharmaceuticals was used.”

  “You came out here yourself to confront a drug dealer,” Agent Zipser said. “That was a stupid thing to do. “

  “I had no intention of confronting anyone. I just wanted verification before reporting it to the Drug Enforcement Agency. You said yourself what proof did I have.”

  Agent Zipser shook her head. “Go home.”

  We had reached my car. I was happy to oblige.

  Chapter Fifty

  “You’re a charmer,” I said, glancing into my rearview mirror. “We’ll work as a tag team. You start them talking, and I’ll steer the conversation. And stop whining. We’re almost there.”

  I was talking to my collie, Brandy, as we sped along the main highway to the Village of Clam Shell Cove. Many people are reluctant to start a conversation with a stranger. One exception is if the stranger has a dog in tow. Dogs are great ice breakers.

  My goal today was to collect information. I firmly believed most rumors held at least a smidgen of truth. I wasn’t sure how I would segue “Does your dog shed a lot?” into “Who benefits from Katie Chandler’s death?” but I would come up with something.

  I had chosen Brandy as my conversation starter instead of Archie. Although my bear-like mixed breed was a gentle giant, he was young, exuberant, and jumped when excited. I figured having a one hundred pound dog staring directly into your eyes while his paws rested on your shoulders might scare people off. Eight year old Brandy was beyond that stage.

  When we arrived in the village, I parked myself at a dog-friendly outdoor café, making sure to secure a table near the sidewalk. While I sipped my cappuccino, Brandy rested on the floor next to me.

  So far, nothing was happening. I debated getting another cup when I heard a youthful sounding voice say, “Mommy, look at the Lassie dog.”

  Thankful that Lassie was now in reruns, I smiled at a boy, who appeared to be about six, and a woman, I presumed was his mother. I said, “You’re right. This is the same type of dog as Lassie. This is a collie. His name is Brandy.”

  “Does he shed a lot?” the mother asked.

  “He does, but he is such a love. I take him with me when I can.”

  This was the opportunity for my segue. “Only problem is that my friend called five minutes ago and invited me to join her at the aquarium. Of course, the aquarium doesn’t allow dogs, so I can’t go.”

  “Too bad. The Clam Cove Aquarium is terrific.”

  “The sea lions are my favorite,” said the young boy, who was now petting Brandy.

  “My favorite too.” I looked at the mother. “I’m glad none of the animals or marine life were injured in the fire.”

  “That was lucky,” the woman said. “But the damaged portion of the building is such an eyesore. I wish the village would stop playing games and issue permits so they can rebuild.”

  “Playing games?”

  She nodded. “The mayor claims budget cuts have resulted in a backlog in the building department and that it takes time to finish the paperwork. He said permits should be issued soon, but I think he’s stalling.”

  “Why would the mayor stall?”

  “Everyone knows the mayor supports the condos and will do whatever is necessary to ensure the development gets the green light. If that means causing problems for the aquarium, so be it. Construction delays cost money.” She shrugged. “We better go. Brian has gymnastics in five minutes. Nice talking to you. Brian, say good-bye to the dog.”

  “Bye Bran.” Brian gave my collie one last pet and scampered down the street with his mother.

  “Good work,” I said, patting Brandy. “Keep on looking adorable.”

  I ordered a second cappuccino and had almost finished it when I spotted two familiar figures strolling down the street.

  “Hello. Aren’t you the reporter from Animal Advocate?” Mr. Mulgrave said.

  “Beautiful dog,” Mrs. Mulgrave added.

  “Thanks. And yes. I’m Kristy Farrell. Are you on your way to the aquarium?”

  “Maybe later. We had lunch in town, and now we are going to visit Elizabeth’s mother at the nursing home. It’s about ten minutes from here.”

  “My mother has Alzheimer’s disease,” Mrs. Mulgrave said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s rough. That’s why we want to visit early in the day. She has sundowner’s syndrome and is a lot worse at night. The day of the cocktail party at the Chandler house, we didn’t get to visit her until after six, and she was not doing well.”

  “Six o’clock? I thought you met Brad Monroe at the Tipsy Toad Tavern.”

  “Oh, that was later. The staff at the nursing home starts preparing everyone for bed around seven-thirty, so we had go to see her first. We met Bradford at the tavern around seven-fifteen, right, honey?”

  Mr. Mulgrave nodded. “We were a few minutes later than that because we ran into Commander West coming out of the liquor store across the street, and we stopped to talk. He was chatty, but he received a phone call and had to leave.”

  At the time of the murders, Commander West was supposedly home alone. Bradford Monroe claimed he had been at a meeting in the Tipsy Toad Tavern. The Mulgraves had just knocked out the alibis for two suspects.

  Chapter Fifty-one

  When I arrived at the garage sale, Marcia Silver was standing by the front steps of her house talking with a woman who was wearing a colorful poncho. I located my mother sitting behind the jewelry table, sipping coffee. She had stayed overnight at Marcia’s home, so the two could set up early. She and Marcia had sorted the merchandise into categories and had arranged everything on six-foot tables placed in long rows on the front lawn.

  “Good morning,” my mother greeted me cheerily as I strolled up the walkway. “Why don’t you go into the kitchen and get coffee before the crowds arrive.” She handed me her mug. “You can get me a refill too.”

  I smiled. “Isn’t that a customer with Marcia? I thought you didn’t open for another thirty minutes.”

  “That’s probably an antique dealer,” my mother whispered as if she were trading in government secrets. “We posted ten as the time we would open, but antique dealers come early to find bargains.”

  After I filled coffee mugs, including mom’s refill, I decided to browse. Marcia had finished her conversation with the lady in the poncho and came over to greet me.

  “Did you make a sale?” I asked.

  Marcia shook her head. “No. But I’m sure business will pick up.”

  “I noticed lots of items here the other day that are now missing, “I said, not adding that much of what remained appeared to be junk.

  “Paul Andre sold most of the better items for me. He’s such a dear. Your mom is so lucky.”

  “Did he sell online?”

  “Some items but not all. He made a few private deals for me. He’s got great contacts in the antique field. He sold my doll collection privately for four hundred dollars. Oh, another customer is here. I’ll see you later. Thanks for helping. You know where to go, right?”

  I nodded. “Mom gave me my assignments.”

  “It’s a shame your sister-in-law couldn’t make it. Your mother said she came down with the flu.”

  I smiled. Barbara was true to form.

  Once Marcia departed, I strolled to the table with small kitchen appliances. That was where I was scheduled to work today.

  Business wasn’t great and by early afternoon the crowds dwindled. Marcia decided to call it a day. I wandered to where my mother sat.

  “I thought Paul would be here,” I said.

  “He had business in the city.”

  “He’s still coming to the house to pick you up for dinner tonight, right?”

  My mother shook her head. “Change of plans. He’s afraid he’ll be delayed in Manhatt
an, so to save time, I’m meeting him at his hotel.”

  That would mess up everything. I hated lying to my mother, but for my plan to work, I needed Paul at my house tonight.

  “Paul needs to pick you up at home. I have champagne and an engagement gift for the two of you,” I lied.

  “Kristy, how sweet. But can’t we do it some other time?”

  “No. I’ll be busy all day Sunday at the aquarium’s art and antique auction. Since you told me you’re getting your engagement ring on Monday, and you’re leaving Tuesday with Paul for Florida, there’s not enough time.”

  “Well, I guess I can ask him. But I hate to be a pest—”

  “Be a pest. Tell him we’ll be crushed if we don’t have the opportunity to celebrate your engagement.”

  My mother reluctantly agreed.

  *****

  That evening, my mom headed upstairs to finish getting ready for her date. Matt and I stayed in the kitchen with Abby and a fake Jason.

  Neither my mother nor Paul had met Abby’s boyfriend, and neither had any idea of what he looked like. The fake Jason had fooled my mom earlier tonight, and I hoped he would also fool Paul.

  About thirty minutes later, just as the doorbell rang, my mother came downstairs. Paul stepped into the house, looking dapper as ever in a camel sports jacket, dark brown pants, and a mocha colored turtleneck.

  “So glad you could come,” I said to Paul. “I wanted to see you before you left on Tuesday.” I introduced him to the fake Jason.

  “Isn’t my granddaughter’s boyfriend adorable?” my mother said.

  Ignoring her comment, Paul faced my mother. “There’s been a change in plans. I’ve got a little more business to finish, so I’m leaving for Philadelphia tomorrow. I’ll be back on Wednesday. We’ll get your ring on Thursday and leave for Florida on Friday.”

  My mother’s wide smile turned downward. Her face was a picture of disappointment. “Oh, okay.”

  “Let’s all go into the living room and have champagne,” I suggested.

  “We’ve dinner reservations at eight-thirty. Plus, I have allergies, so we can’t stay here long.” Paul seemed anxious to leave.