Gone But Knot Forgotten

by Mary Marks

  He found his voice. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I crossed my arms. “How did you know about the quilt? It wasn’t insured.”

  “Harriet must have told me.”

  “You’re lying. Dr. Hunter from the Smithsonian mailed a letter about the quilt after Harriet’s death, so it should have remained in the pile of unopened mail. Yet we found it on Harriet’s desk, opened by whoever searched her house. Opened by you.”

  “You can’t prove that,” he snarled.

  “I think I can. When I give the letter to the crime lab, they’ll be able to lift your fingerprints.”

  Wish took a step toward me, and Arthur snarled and bared his teeth.

  “You’d better stop right there.”

  Wish looked at the dog and held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Maybe I did search for the books like you said.”

  “One of your clients was the buyer?”

  “Look. I’m in a unique position to know what rich people own and what they want to own. If I find a buyer for something, I’ll acquire it for a price.”

  “You mean Harriet’s not the first client you’ve stolen from? There were others?”

  Wish shook his head. “You don’t understand. Everyone gets something. The real owner gets fully compensated by the company for the stolen item. My buyer gets his package, and I get a fee.”

  “So what happened?” I hoped Lucy’s phone was picking up every word. “Did you kill Harriet when she caught you robbing her house?”

  “No! Harriet was already dead when I broke in. I admit, I came back and searched this house every night for a week. But the disgusting smell got to me, and I just gave up.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police and report her body?”

  “How could I explain my presence in Harriet’s house in the first place? Even if I made an anonymous call, I’d left fingerprints behind.”

  “I don’t believe you, Emmet. I think you killed my friend, and I’m calling the police.”

  “Wait!” Wish waved a hand. Drops of sweat gathered on his upper lip. “I can make you rich. You’re the only person who’s been in this room, right? Well, no one has to know you found the books. My buyer’s still very interested. He’ll go as high as four million for the set. We can split the amount fifty-fifty. You’ll file a claim for mysterious disappearance. Harriet’s estate will be compensated for the full amount. Believe me, we’ll both be millionaires.”

  “And let you off the hook for killing my friend? Not a chance.”

  “I really hoped to avoid this.” Wish reached inside his coat and pulled out a small revolver. The dog growled and tensed his muscles, ready to attack. Wish turned his gun on Arthur and wiped the sweat off his lip with the palm of his other hand. “Call off your dog. I don’t want to have to shoot him.”

  I made a stupid decision to bring Arthur. Once before, he risked his life for me and received terrible wounds. Even though the dog would gladly defend me again, I couldn’t risk getting him killed. I reached down and patted his head and tightened my grip on his leash. “Easy, boy. Take it easy.”

  I kept watching the hand holding the gun. “What are you going to do, kill me too?”

  He didn’t answer. His scanned the room and dried the palm of his free hand on his pant leg. “I’m taking those books. With the money I get, I can leave the country. You’re in no position to stop me. Too bad nobody else knows about this room, because you’re going to be locked inside.”

  I had collected enough proof now to make Farkas eat his words. I looked toward the stairway. “Lucy?”

  Lucy stepped out from behind the door on the landing, all five feet eleven inches and bright orange hair. Her hands were steady as she aimed the Browning at Emmet Wish. “Drop the gun or I’ll shoot you deader’n a doornail!”

  Wish turned his head to look at Lucy. His eyes widened in surprise. Then he looked at me with a wounded expression. “I thought you said we were alone.”

  I shrugged. “You know what they say, ‘No honor among thieves.’”

  His face darkened, and he turned toward Lucy. She reacted quickly and ducked behind the door. In the small room the gunshot sounded like a bomb. The bullet ricocheted off the steel door and whizzed past my head, only inches away.

  I dropped to the floor and crawled under the library table, pulling Arthur with me. Arthur kept trying to lunge out of my grasp. He wanted to attack. Everything in his police training prepared him for taking down a man with a gun.

  Any second Wish could fire under the table and kill me. I unhooked Arthur’s leash. “Go!”

  “Hey!” Wish shouted as Arthur’s teeth sunk into his gun arm.

  I scrambled on all fours into the open as fast as I could and hoisted myself up butt first. When I looked up, Lucy had stepped out from behind the door and aimed her Browning. “Drop the gun.”

  Wish lost his struggle with Arthur and the gun clattered from his hand to the floor. I bent to pick up the revolver. I wished I knew the correct police command. I settled for, “Okay Arthur, let go.”

  The dog understood me and released Wish’s arm. Blood dripped on the floor from his torn flesh. Wish sank to his knees. Arthur stood over him panting, growling, and lunging every time the man tried to move.

  Lucy remained on the landing and glared at Wish. “Stop whining. You’re lucky I didn’t get to you first.”

  I smiled at my friend. Born and raised in Wyoming. Mother of five boys. Tough.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said.

  We forced Wish to stand and walked behind him as he climbed the stairs. We had to watch where we stepped because he left a growing trail of blood behind. For sure the man would need surgery on his arm. Wish remained oddly silent for a man who was about to go to jail for murder.

  “Where’s the duct tape?” I asked Lucy.

  “In my tote bag upstairs.”

  “Those wounds on his arm aren’t fatal. We should tie him up so he doesn’t escape.”

  Wish reached the top of the stairs first. Before we knew what was happening, he jumped through the doorway and used his good arm to slam the door shut behind him.

  Lucy, Arthur, and I were locked in the stairwell, and Birdie was alone with a killer.

  CHAPTER 32

  Lucy rattled the doorknob. “Oh crap! How’re we going to get out of here? Birdie’s alone out there. I should never have listened to you, Martha Rose. If we die in here, Ray’s gonna kill me.”

  “Harriet never would have installed a room where she could be trapped inside.” I looked around frantically for a way out. In the dimness of the low-watt overhead light, I spotted a red button on the wall opposite the steel portal. “Here!” I punched the button. The electromagnetic lock disconnected with a click and released the door.

  We stumbled into the foyer, clutching our guns. Arthur shot past us. Wish staggered to the front door, leaving a thin ribbon of red behind. He had just begun to turn the knob when Arthur pinned him against the entrance.

  Birdie jumped out of the powder room closet holding the shears with both hands and pointed at Wish. “Freeze, dirtbag!” She slowly limped in a crouched position toward Wish, jabbing the air with her scissors.

  Wish’s mouth went slack. “Are you kidding me?” He raised his right arm to get a better look at the bloody, open wound. Then his eyes rolled back and he slumped to the floor. Out cold.

  “He’s probably in shock.” Lucy ran to her tote bag for the roll of duct tape. “Good job, Arthur.” She glanced at me. “Let’s bind him up before he awakes.

  We rolled him over and wrapped the silver tape around his wrists. I stuck out my hand. “Give me those scissors, Birdie, so I can cut the tape.”

  “Oh no, Martha dear. These are my good fabric scissors. I don’t want to ruin the sharp edges.”

  “But you were willing to stab the guy with them?”

  “Well, only as a last resort. When I heard gunshots, I called the police. They should be here any minute.”

  I
ripped the tape with my teeth, then bound Wish’s ankles together. I wrapped more tape tightly around the wound in his right forearm to staunch the bleeding.

  Moments later a cavalcade of sirens approached from a distance. Vehicles screeched to a stop in the driveway. Someone pounded on the front door, and a familiar voice shouted, “LAPD! Open up!”

  Lucy and I dragged Wish’s body away from the front door. Farkas stood on the porch surrounded by five uniformed policemen—all with their guns drawn. Blue and red lights pulsed in a garish dance on top of four squad cars.

  I closed my eyes and let out my breath. “Thank God you’re here.”

  Farkas scowled when he saw the three of us. “We received a 9-1-1 from this address.”

  I pointed to Wish, lying unconscious with his hands and feet tied together. Red smeared the floor underneath him. “He tried to kill us, but Arthur disarmed him first.”

  “You’d better call a bus,” said Birdie. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  Farkas lifted an eyebrow and looked at me. “Really?”

  I shrugged. “She’s a fan of cop shows.”

  We spent the next two hours at the West LA Division of the LAPD giving statements. Lucy borrowed my cell phone to call Ray and found someone to give Arthur a well-deserved drink of water. I joined Farkas in a small blue interview room and played the recording of Wish’s confession. “You should’ve listened to me, Detective. I was right about the killer.”

  “I never said you were wrong. I just told you to back off. After our conversation tonight, I started looking into reports of high-end thefts during the last five years. Turns out your boy sold insurance to a number of the victims. Your hunch about him was right on the mark, and I would have gone after him if you hadn’t . . . jumped the gun.”

  I crossed my arms. “I’m glad you’re amused. Thanks to us, you have Harriet’s killer, along with a confession.”

  “Correction.” He pressed his lips together and pointed to Lucy’s iPhone. “Wish copped to a number of felonies, but I didn’t hear him confess to Mrs. Oliver’s murder.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you can beat it out of him.” Farkas squinted at me. “I’m debating whether to throw you and your dangerous gun-toting, knife-wielding gang in jail tonight.”

  “Guns and scissors, Detective. On what charges?”

  “Obstruction. Weapons. Assault. Kidnapping. Give me time. I’ll think of a few more.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” I gathered my purse and hoped I could bluff my way home tonight. “Why don’t we all go home and get some sleep? I’ve got a yoga class in the morning.”

  Farkas hesitated, then stood and moved toward the interview room door. “Quilting, Mrs. Rose. Stick to your quilting.”

  Lucy and Birdie sat with Arthur in the lobby. Birdie snored softly with her chin resting on her chest. I touched her shoulder. “Time to go home.” We piled into my car and headed for Encino. As soon as I pulled into Lucy’s driveway, Ray opened the front door.

  “Oh, oh.” Lucy’s voice became quiet. “That’s not a happy face.”

  I unbuckled my seat belt, intending to get out of the car. “I’ll tell him it’s my fault. I’ll lie and say you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.”

  “I already told him that.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You blamed me?”

  Lucy wiggled her red-penciled eyebrows. “What are friends for?”

  Ray reached her side of the car and opened the door. They stared at each other for several seconds without a word. He took his wife’s hand and helped her out of the car. He stuck his head inside and glared at me. “I don’t believe either one of you.” He slammed the door and I watched them walk inside, Ray’s protective arm around her shoulders. No matter what trouble Lucy might have gotten into tonight, Ray would love her.

  I backed out of the driveway and steered across the street to Birdie’s darkened house. Lucy’s husband, Ray, loved his wife madly, even after so many decades together. In contrast, Russell Watson probably never even noticed Birdie’s absence.

  I helped her out of the car and walked her to her door. “You were great tonight, Birdie.”

  She gave my arm a little squeeze. “I know. This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Good night, Martha dear.”

  After a short drive home, Arthur and I walked in my house at one in the morning, and he made straight for the water bowl. I made a pot of chamomile tea to calm my nerves and gave Arthur two dog biscuits. He took them so gently from my open fingers, you would never have known he ripped open a man’s arm just a few hours before.

  “You’re a brave boy, Arthur.” I stroked his head.

  Adrenaline still pumped through my body as I headed for my sewing room and the emergency package of M&M’s I kept in my tote bag for times like this. I changed into my pajamas and sat under my blue and white quilt on the sofa. Bumper jumped up on my lap and settled his furry orange body in the folds. One by one, I fished out the green M&M’s from the bag. I always ate one color at a time, saving the brown ones for last. The racing inside my head slowed after a few deep yoga breaths, chocolate, and tea.

  I reached over to the coffee table and picked up the keepsake I chose from all of Harriet’s possessions, the antique wooden dreidel from Portugal. In just a couple of days, Jews all over the world would kindle the first light of Hanukkah. And children once again would play with their dreidels and recall the time when the Maccabees saved our temple in Jerusalem. Turning the spinning top over in my hands, I admired the delicate painting of the Hebrew letters: . A great miracle happened there.

  Wish claimed Harriet was already dead when he broke into her house to steal the books. But who wouldn’t lie to avoid a murder conviction? I had confidence in Detective Farkas. He’d get Wish to confess to everything.

  I sighed. Tonight the team from LAPD’s Scientific Investigation Division descended on Harriet’s house for the third time. Farkas promised they’d close up the safe room and secure the valuables before they left. I trusted him to keep his word. Farkas knew how valuable the quilt and the books were. And anyway, once they locked the safe room, nobody could enter without the key and the code.

  Since we’d solved Harriet’s murder, I could now focus on finding out who really killed Nathan Oliver and clear Harriet’s name. Isabel Casco knew more than she was telling. She had a lot of explaining to do, starting with why she wore Harriet’s ring.

  I also needed a plan to get Nico Grimaldi, the boat captain, to talk. I knew in my gut he had important information in the mystery of Nathan’s death. I needed to be smart, though. Digging up the past could be dangerous.

  If Carl or Crusher and his guys were around to help, I’d feel a whole lot safer. For some reason, they weren’t available. I doubted Ray would let Lucy come with me again. Farkas wouldn’t help me because he believed Harriet killed Nathan. The truth was, I’d have to interview Grimaldi alone. My stomach churned at the thought.

  Tomorrow would be a long day. With a huge yawn, I hit a wall of fatigue. Bumper meowed as I pushed him off my lap and moved down the hallway to my comfortable bed. I plumped my pillow, nestled under the covers, and closed my heavy eyes. As I fell asleep, I had a vision of the tower on Paulina’s tarot card, where people fell and jumped to their deaths.

  CHAPTER 33

  I stood at a conveyor belt, sorting through huge piles of old clothes. The more I sorted, the bigger the piles grew. My heart sunk. No matter how fast I moved, I’d never finish the job. Then I floated up into grayness and cat whiskers tickled my face, followed by a rough little tongue on my cheek.

  “Thank God you woke me.” I stroked Bumper’s fur.

  The clock read nine-thirty. Too late to attend my Yoga class. My body ached and throbbed all over. The excitement yesterday of finding the Declaration Quilt and books, the terror of being shot at, and the late-night interrogation at the police station—all contributed to one huge fibromyalgia flare-up. To make matters worse, the weather outside had turned cloudy and dam
p with a promise of rain. I staggered into the kitchen to feed the animals, take my meds, and brew a hot cup of tea.

  While waiting for the water to boil, I grabbed a notepad and pencil and jotted down a to-do list: Call Lucy and Birdie. Call Henry Oliver. Talk to Isabel. Pay Grimaldi a visit. Be at Abernathy’s office at two.

  This felt like sorting through an endless pile of used clothing. My meds started to kick in about the time I finished my second cup of tea. Time to get going. The sooner I could wind up Harriet’s estate, the sooner I could get back to my real life.

  I called Lucy first. I’d been close to the Mondellos for twenty years and counted on our long friendship to smooth over any anger Ray might be harboring about the shooting last night. Now past ten, I figured he’d be working and Lucy would answer the phone. I was wrong.

  “You’re both a couple of lunatics! What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I’m sorry, Ray. I knew with a trained police dog and all, we could take the guy down.”

  “Take him down? Who are you? Annie Oakley?

  “No, but Lucy is. And anyway, Arthur did the job for us.”

  “You almost got my wife killed.”

  I’d never heard him so angry, and I hated to be the reason. I loved this man almost as much as I loved Lucy.

  “No, she didn’t.”

  Lucy picked up the telephone extension. “Nobody forced me to go. I went because I wanted to. Hi, Martha. You okay?”

  “I oughta have the both of you locked away.” Ray hung up.

  “Oh, Lucy, I’m so sorry. I never thought he’d go so far. I feel terrible I put us all in danger. Ray has a right to be angry.”

  “He’ll get over it.”

  “Have you spoken to Birdie today? Did she tell Russell?”

  Lucy chuckled. “I saw her briefly outside a few minutes ago. Russell has no clue she left the house last night. They sleep in separate bedrooms, remember? Anyway, she seemed very chipper. She said, ‘I wish I were fifty years younger. I’d join the force.’”