While I was waiting, Wes called. I let it go to voice mail, then listened to his message. “Heather’s mom won’t talk to reporters, but maybe she’ll talk to you. What do you think? Give me a call.”
Ellis pushed through a revolving door, spotted me, and headed my way.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. I snuck a look in the dining room. The Yartsins are at a table already.”
Heather and one of the older women I’d seen at the police station crossed the lobby from the elevator to the revolving door without seeing us. Her mom, I thought. Heather’s eyes were red and puffy. Her mom cast worried looks at her. I toyed with saying hello to Heather, getting an introduction to her mother, but decided to skip it. I didn’t know whether she’d told her mom about talking to me.
I looked up at Ellis. He was waiting for me to continue, as patient as ever.
“Stefan lied,” I said.
Ellis cocked his head, surprised. “Stefan?”
“It may be nothing.”
“What did he lie about?”
“Flying here with the snow globe. He couldn’t have. It’s too big.” I described how Fred and I estimated its size, then added, “Only snow globes the size of tennis balls or smaller—deemed to contain less than three point four ounces of liquid—are allowed in carry-on luggage. Unless he took a private plane, Stefan didn’t fly here from Detroit.”
“How do you know he didn’t check a bag?”
“He said he was a ‘travel-light sort of guy,’ so I assumed it. Maybe I’m wrong and he did.” I shook my head. “No way. It would be foolhardy to send a Fabergé egg in checked luggage.”
“What else?” Ellis asked.
“Nothing. But if you lie about one thing…”
“Anything more about the snow globe?”
“No.”
He didn’t speak for several seconds. “Wait here, will you? I need to make a call.”
“Sure.”
He pushed through the revolving door and disappeared to the left. I wondered who he was calling. Detective Brownley, I guessed, to get the investigation into how Stefan traveled to Rocky Point under way.
I people-watched while I waited. Most people seemed happy. A little girl about seven in a dark pink satin dress giggled and played with her long pink sash, holding the ends out like wands and twirling like a ballerina. A woman about my age, maybe her mom, wearing a glove-fit navy blue sheath, looked on, proud and pleased. Two men in suits joined them, and, chatting, they headed out. One man was about the woman’s age, her husband, I figured. The other was older, her dad. A wedding. They were on their way to a wedding, and the little girl was a junior bridesmaid. One wedding canceled. Another on schedule. Two older women sat on club chairs, their heads close together, laughing so hard one of them was wiping her eyes. A middle-aged couple strolled from the coffee shop toward the elevator, holding hands. Chuck and Sara each wheeled a suitcase to the front desk. They’d planned to stay over one more night, I guessed, but changed their minds. Time to go home.
Life rolls on.
Ellis reappeared by my side. “All right, then. I’m not going to mention that Stefan couldn’t have flown with the snow globe in this discussion. When we’re done, I’ll invite Stefan to the station house for some one-on-one conversation. Can you come? I want you in the observation room, in case antiques-related questions come up.”
I glanced at the clocks mounted over the reception desk. There were five of them, set to different time zones, grandly implying that Rocky Point was akin to the other cities showcased. London. Tokyo. Sydney. Los Angeles. Rocky Point.
It was five after six. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be dancing tonight.
“Sure,” I said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Stefan stood as soon as he saw us walking through the dining room. Peter remained seated. Ana tried to smile, but it was a wan effort. She looked sad and stoic.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” Ellis said to them, holding my chair. “You know Josie.” They nodded and murmured, except Peter, who didn’t react at all. Once I was situated, Ellis sat down. “I have news for you about the Fabergé egg snow globe. I asked Josie to join us in case you have questions about it I can’t answer.” He looked from one to the other of them. “The smashed pieces found on and around Jason’s body—they’re not from the Fabergé egg.”
“What?” Ana exclaimed.
Ellis held up his hand like a traffic cop. “I know. I can’t tell you what they are—but I can tell you what they’re not. No insurance settlement will be forthcoming.”
“What are you implying?” Ana asked. “I don’t want the insurance. I want the egg.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed to slits. “He’s implying you were trying to pull a fast one.”
Ellis shrugged. “If you knew the real egg had been destroyed, this might appeal to you as an option for getting some compensation at least.”
Ana shook her head. “If I knew it had been destroyed, I wouldn’t need to pretend. I could simply submit a claim.”
“She’s right,” Stefan said. “What am I missing?”
Ellis’s tone was as calm as ever. “Nothing. I’m just considering all options. And one option is that for whatever reason, someone got a repro made specifically so Ana could submit an insurance claim.” He opened his palms to the ceiling. “The real Fabergé egg snow globe may be intact. It’s possible the plan was to sell it privately, while also submitting an insurance settlement.”
“That’s crazy,” Ana said, sounding confused. “The insurance company would catch on.”
“Perhaps the person who undertook this misadventure didn’t think of that.”
“Now he’s calling you stupid,” Peter said.
“Whether he’s calling Ana names or not,” Stefan said, “is beside the point. I brought the Fabergé Spring Egg snow globe to Rocky Point myself. I would have noticed if it was a fake. My God, how can you think I wouldn’t have noticed?”
Ellis focused on Stefan. “Someone switched it out.”
Stefan raised his chin. “I don’t believe it.”
“Do you want the technical details?”
“Yes.”
Ellis turned toward me. “Josie?”
“The evidence is overwhelming. I’ll be detailing it all in a formal report, of course, but here’s the short version.” I described the fake gemstones, the acid test, the MDF, and the modern-era latch. As I spoke, I watched their faces. Stefan’s mouth fell open. Ana’s eyes grew round. Peter’s brow wrinkled.
Stefan leaned back, convinced yet incredulous. “I don’t understand how it could have happened.” He shook his head. “I have a state-of-the-art security system at home, and always have. I update it whenever new technology becomes available. I’m diligent about turning it on.”
“How about workers?” Ellis asked.
“None.”
Ana touched his arm. “You had the downstairs painted, Dad. When was that? Five years ago? Six?”
“So what? I cleared everything out. I relocated the snow globe to my bedroom.”
“If a switch occurred, it happened post-Christmas,” Peter said.
Everyone looked at him.
“I took it out over Christmas to show Toni and that friend of hers from out of town, what was her name? Carly, right? Carly Summers. She was in from Massachusetts to visit her old friend, Toni.” He looked at Ellis. “Toni is a new neighbor. I may not have an artist’s eye, but I guarantee I would have noticed peeling veneer and a cheesy latch.” He shrugged. “Ask them. They’ll remember.”
Ellis made a note. “I will. Thanks.” He gazed out the window, then turned back to the group. “How about a cleaning lady?”
“I clean the house myself,” Stefan said.
“Other guests? Friends for dinner?”
“My friends aren’t thieves,” Stefan said, outraged.
Ellis exhaled. “With all respect … you’re saying it couldn’t have happened. I’m telling you it did
.”
Stefan shook his head and examined his knuckles. Peter pressed his lips together and didn’t comment.
Ana said, “But—” She broke off, her muddled thoughts evident from her expression. “How—?”
Ellis waited.
After a few seconds, Peter pushed back his chair and stood up. He glared at Ellis. “This is bull. I looked at the snow globe last Christmas. It was real. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll tell you what I think. Neither my dad nor my sister switched out a replica. Nor did I. So if it really is a fake, someone, not us, is pulling a fast one—or trying to.”
“Who?” Ellis asked.
“How am I supposed to know?”
“You’re the one throwing around the charges.”
“Right—talk about blame the victim. Except I’m not the victim. Ana is.” He turned to Ana. “I’m outta here. If you’re smart, you’ll call a lawyer before they end up charging you with murder.” He strode toward the lobby.
“What?” Ana exclaimed. “Murder!” Ana watched until Peter was out of sight, then turned toward Ellis. “I can’t think.” She pressed her hands into her eyes. “Dad?”
Stefan raised his eyes to her face.
“What do I do now?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said, dropping his eyes again.
“Oh, God,” she whispered as the reality began to sink in. “This is just too much. Too much.” Her shoulders began to shake.
Stefan patted her back softly. “It’ll all right, Ana. It’ll be fine.”
Ellis watched them for a moment, then said, “I know it’s hard to—” He stopped talking and stood as Chef Ray approached the table. Ray looked serious but not stern. He stopped beside Ana, taking in that she was crying.
Ray glanced in our direction, then placed his hand on her shoulder. “Ana?”
She dropped her hands and looked up at him. “Oh, Ray!” She swallowed hard. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“You’re Chef Ray?” Ellis stood and extended his hand. “Ellis Hunter, Rocky Point police chief. Josie raves about your food.”
Ray half-smiled at me, then shook Ellis’s hand. He turned to Stefan. “Is everything all right?”
Stefan looked up. “No.”
Ellis pointed to a chair next to Ana and Ray slid into it.
Ana leaned her head against his shoulder, tears shimmering on her lashes. “Thank you for coming.” She looked at Ellis. “I called and asked him to meet me here. I was certain you were going to deliver bad news.” She sighed. “I was right.”
Ray took her hand in his.
Ellis stood up. “Ana, I’ll leave you to explain what’s going on. Stefan, do you have a minute? I want to show you something outside.”
“Of course.” He stood up. He turned to Ana. “Will you be all right if I leave you for a few minutes?”
“Yes.” She smiled, a wavering one but a strong effort. She pressed her head deeper into the crook of Ray’s shoulder. “Especially since Ray is here.”
Ray leaned in to kiss her cheek.
Ana looked at me, swallowing tears. “Can you find it, Josie? Can you find out what happened?
“Maybe. With luck. You know I’ll do my best.”
“About what?” Peter said, reappearing as abruptly as he’d left.
“Finding out what happened to the Fabergé egg,” Ellis said.
Ana reached a hand toward me, then withdrew it. “Thank you, Josie.”
I nodded, then followed Ellis and Stefan into the lobby. As we passed the plastic palm tree, I looked back. Ana’s head was still nestled in Ray’s shoulder.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Rocky Point police station observation room is about twenty feet long and narrow, maybe eight feet across. There’s a window at the rear overlooking the back parking lot. A beige sheer curtain blocks the view but not the light. Orange faux-granite Formica countertops stretch the length of the room on both sides under one-way windows that allow observers to see and/or hear the action in Interview Rooms One and Two, depending on which way they’re facing.
Stefan sat alone in Room One. Either the lights weren’t on in Room Two or drapes were drawn over the one-way window.
Ellis stood beside me. Officer Meade sat near the door in front of a built-in control panel. Ellis looked at the various audio and recording switches, confirming everything was off.
“Are you all right?” he asked me.
“Yes,” I said even though I wasn’t. I felt exhausted and hungry, and I was tired of thinking. It had been a long day, and it wasn’t over yet.
“Officer Meade will stay with you. If you have any thoughts, if you want me to ask Stefan anything, or if you hear something you know is wrong, text me or tell her and she’ll text me. Any questions?”
“No. I’m all set.”
“Stefan won’t know anyone is behind the window,” Ellis said.
“Sure he will. He’s not dumb.”
“Let me rephrase that: He won’t know you’re here. He won’t be able to see or hear you.” He must have seen something in my expression—fatigue, I guessed, though I’d tried to hide it—because he added, “I appreciate your staying, Josie.”
“Ty and I were going to go dancing tonight.”
“How come?”
“We like dancing.”
He smiled. “I mean, what’s the occasion?”
“No occasion.”
“So you can go tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Or the next day.”
“Do you need to call Ty? Or do you want me to call, to explain how you’re helping us?”
“No need. Thanks, though. One advantage of dating a man who had your job is that he understands what’s involved in it.”
Ellis patted my shoulder, a friendly gesture. He turned to Officer Meade, standing off to the side. “You ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
Ellis stepped out of the room, reappearing ten seconds later in Room One. Officer Meade flipped a switch, and the words AUDIO ON glowed in bright red.
I took a seat as far away from Officer Meade as I could, next to the window, and raised and lowered my shoulders several times, trying to relax. Stefan was drumming his fingers on the table, but looking at his face, I couldn’t tell whether he was impatient or irritated or bored.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Ellis told Stefan.
Stefan stopped drumming. “What’s going on, Chief? You said you wanted to talk to me outside the Pelican, and the next thing I know I’m being interrogated by the police chief.”
“This is an interview, not an interrogation. Let me just get the logistics out of the way and I’ll fill you in.” Ellis turned on the video recorders and stated the required information. He asked Stefan to sign a form indicating he’d received the Miranda warning, which he did. “You’ll understand why I wanted to talk with you alone when I tell you that we know you didn’t fly here from Detroit. We try to protect people’s privacy as much as possible.”
Stefan shifted in his seat. “I’m not sure I follow you.”
“You said you flew in. No doubt you have a good reason for having misspoken. In case that reason is personal, I didn’t want to ask you about it in front of your children.”
Stefan frowned. “Let’s back up a minute. What possible business is it of yours how I got here?”
“On the face of it, none. However, in a murder investigation, any anomaly must be accounted for. Please explain.”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you fly?” Ellis asked again.
“What makes you think I didn’t?”
“I’ve already submitted formal requests to the airlines to review their manifests.”
“Doesn’t that require a subpoena?”
“Yes.”
“How could you get one?”
Ellis shrugged. “In a murder investigation, judges tend to cooperate.”
Stefan began drumming his fingers again. “This is absurd. You’re going fishing. You have no probable ca
use.”
Ellis was getting annoyed. “Are you a lawyer?”
“No, but I know a good one.”
“Is that a threat? Or a request for counsel?”
Stefan pulled himself together, breathing hard, pausing before speaking. “No. It’s not a threat.” He paused to take in a deep breath. “Nor is it a request for counsel. I don’t like being blindsided, that’s all. Who does, right? Why don’t you try telling me what you told the judge? It’s likely you’ll find me cooperative.”
“Fair enough. The snow globe was too large for carry-on. I don’t think you checked a bag. I’m going to learn that you didn’t fly, aren’t I?”
Stefan didn’t reply. From his bland expression, he could have been trying to decide whether he wanted pepperoni or sausage on his pizza.
“I ran the plates on your rental car,” Ellis continued. “It’s part of the Garrison Rental fleet—I spoke to a nice woman at the Detroit airport, very helpful. You rented it in Michigan and drove here. How come?”
Stefan took in a deep breath and half-smiled. “I felt like a road trip.”
“Why did you say you flew?”
“I didn’t want the hassle of explaining my change of plans.”
“What hassle?”
“Do you have children?”
“No.”
“Then you don’t know. Kids are work from the minute they’re born until forever. If I told Ana and Pete that I was going to drive, they’d have been on me like a tick. They’d want to know why and how come and where was I going to stop en route and did I want company and on and on and on. I chose to avoid all that, so I didn’t tell anyone my plans.”
“Where did you stop?”
“You want the hotel receipts?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Stefan looked at Ellis as if he thought he was as dim as a 10-watt bulb. “I was being facetious.”
Ellis didn’t blink. “I wasn’t.”
“This is unbelievable! Jesus! The first night I stayed at a Holiday Inn in Binghamton. The second night, a no-name place, somewhere near Albany. The receipts are in my room.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your cooperation.”
“Right,” Stefan said, his tone sarcastic. He grasped the edge of the table, ready to stand. “Is that it? Are you done?”
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