Emeralds in the Attic

by Jan Fields

  Annie poured a small bit of food in the small ceramic dish with cute fishes painted on it. Boots glanced into the bowl and then back up at Annie. “You already had some guilt kibble this morning before I left,” Annie reminded her. Boots didn’t look convinced, but she started gobbling the food just the same.

  As Annie patted the chubby cat, her own stomach growled, and she decided on a quick sandwich and cup of soup. She sat next to the kitchen window and stared out at the leafy lawn. Now and then, an eddy of wind would pick up a leaf and spin it around.

  After cleaning up, Annie tried to settle down on the couch to work on her sweater project, but she quickly remembered that she’d meant to have Kate help her with the mess she’d made of the complex crocheted cables. Well, Kate’s not here, she thought, so I’ll just have to give it another try. She pulled out a few rows until she got back to the part she knew was right.

  As she tried the stitch again and again, her mind kept wandering to the question of what else she could do to help figure out the mystery. She remembered Milt Koenig saying that his father kept an album of newspaper photos of people wearing his father’s jewelry designs. She wondered if she should spend some time looking through old issues of The Point for photos of someone in the emeralds.

  She quickly dismissed the idea. She’d spent many hours looking at back issues on other “cases.” She smiled, thinking that she was starting to use detective jargon like Gwen. Annie had looked through the paper on microfiche at the library and in print copies in the newspaper’s morgue of old issues. She knew exactly what kinds of photos filled the small-town paper. They were nearly all homey community events; Annie couldn’t imagine anyone wearing the glitzy costume jewelry to a church auction or the Fourth of July picnic on the Town Square.

  Finally, she had to admit she was getting nowhere in her musings or her crocheting. She looked ruefully at the tangled yarn and decided she needed something more physical to do, preferably something hard to mess up. She stuffed the sweater back in her project bag and headed outside to finish the raking she’d begun that morning.

  Annie raked a portion of the pile of leaves onto a blue tarp, and then folded up the corners and dragged the tarp to the compost bin Wally had built for her last year. She’d had Wally put a sort of ramp up one side of the wooden bin so she could slide the tarp up the ramp and dump the load of leaves more easily into the bin. It was about the only way she could get the leaves to the bin without help.

  As she dragged the tarp back, she saw an unfamiliar car pulling into the drive. It was a lovely silver Lexus. Annie recognized it as one of the new hybrids. A well-dressed man wearing sleek driving gloves stepped out of the car. “Mrs. Dawson?” he called to her.

  “Yes?” Annie ran a hand through her hair, raking out a few lingering bits of leaf.

  “My name is Michael Norman,” he said as he strode across the lawn. “I’m Mrs. Meyer’s personal assistant. She asked me to come by.”

  “Oh?” Annie couldn’t imagine what the aloof young woman could possibly want with her that was worth sending someone out to her house.

  When he reached Annie, he slipped his hand into his jacket and pulled an envelope from an inner pocket. This he handed to Annie.

  Annie smiled. “You drove all the way over here to give me a note? I know the postal service can be slow, but …”

  The young man did not smile in return, though the sternness in his face did seem to soften slightly. “Mrs. Meyer thought there might be a reply.”

  Annie slipped an expensive sheet of creamy white paper out of the envelope. At the top of the paper, a gold embossed letter V intertwined with a silver embossed letter M.

  Mrs. Dawson,

  I am sorry I did not get to chat with you at the Harvest Ball, but there are always so many people to speak with. I did see you and wanted to say that you looked quite lovely.

  I have decided to have the emerald earrings repaired so that I can wear them. I find the design extraordinary. Do you happen to have any more jewelry in similar design? I would love to have companion pieces to wear with the earrings. I would pay for them, of course.

  Warmly,

  Victoria Meyer

  Annie stared at the fluid handwriting. She couldn’t understand the wealthy young woman’s fascination with that jewelry. She would put Mrs. Meyer at the top of her suspect list if she could distantly picture the elegant woman creeping around in the dark to snatch a hair comb or scrambling up a tree.

  “Is there a reply?” Michael asked.

  Annie blinked, her attention drawn back to the serious young man. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll need to get a pen and paper. Would you like to come in?”

  “Thank you.”

  He followed Annie across the lawn and into the house. Just as they came through the door, Boots trotted toward them. The gray cat took one look at the stranger and puffed up angrily. She hissed and spat, stalking sideways toward them.

  “Oh!” Wide-eyed, Michael backed up until he ran into the screen door. “I’m allergic to cats. I believe I'll wait on the porch.” He slipped through the door and peered in at the cat, who sat glaring at him through the screen and growling.

  “I’m so sorry,” Annie said, wondering if she could pick up the angry cat without getting scratched. “Boots has been unusually hostile with strangers lately.”

  “That’s quite all right,” Michael said, though he took another step away from the door.

  Seeing no way to reconcile man and cat, Annie hurried off to find some paper to write a note. She found a few sheets of plain pale blue paper in Gram’s desk in the library and sat down to write her reply. She told Mrs. Meyer that the jewelry set had been designed by Milton Koenig and that the old man had passed away. She wrote the address and phone number of the shop in Storm Harbor. “Milton Koenig’s grandson is interested in collecting pieces of his grandfather’s work,” Annie wrote. “I promised him any pieces I might find and wish to sell, so I would not have any to sell to you. But Mr. Koenig may be able to help you find more examples of his grandfather’s work that would please you just as much. Or at least point you in the right direction to look.”

  Annie looked over her note. Although it seemed unlikely to make Mrs. Meyer happy, it would have to do. She slipped it into an envelope and carried it out to the anxious man on the porch.

  He shifted nervously as Annie opened the door and used her foot to gently nudge Boots away to keep the cat from rushing out. The assistant nodded briefly as Annie handed him the envelope, thanked her, and hurried away to his car.

  Annie looked after him for a moment, deep in thought, and then she sighed and went in search of her rake.

  13

  The next day, as Annie drove into town for the emergency mystery meeting of the Hook and Needle Club, she heard the cheerful chirp that signaled her cell phone’s ringtone. She carefully pulled off the street and fished in her purse for the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Mrs. Dawson? This is Milt Koenig.”

  “Oh, hi. Do you have news for me about the jewelry?”

  “Yes, I went out to visit my parents and spent some time flipping through Dad’s scrapbook. I found a photo with the necklace you brought in. Unfortunately Dad didn’t clip the caption with it since it didn’t mention my grandfather or the necklace.”

  “Oh,” Annie said glumly. “I’d still like to see it.”

  “The photo is a little grainy, but you can make out the face of the woman wearing the gems. She doesn’t look familiar, which I guess isn’t that strange since I wasn’t born when the photo was taken. Dad didn’t know the woman’s name, but he said that he seemed to remember that she was involved in some kind of big scandal. A crime or something.”

  Annie blinked a moment. “A crime?”

  “Dad didn’t know what kind. He said he remembered some kind of huge scandal, and he’s sure it involved a crime. Mom didn’t have any idea either.”

  “Did your father know when the photo might have been taken? What year
?”

  “I didn’t ask, I’m sorry,” Milt said. “He didn’t volunteer it though, so he might not know. You can see most of the woman’s dress. Maybe you can figure out from the style? I think women are better at that sort of thing.”

  Annie sighed. The more clues she found, the more muddled she felt about the whole mystery. “May I drive over and look at the picture?”

  “I figured you would want to see it. Dad wouldn’t give up the original, but I scanned it, and the scan came out pretty well. I can print it and mail it to you. Or I can send it by e-mail if you want.”

  “E-mail would be good,” Annie said, crossing her fingers. She constantly had trouble with her e-mail. She wasn’t really all that fond of the technological wonders of the information age. Her laptop served as a paperweight nearly as often as anything else, and she preferred doing her research at the library where someone was always around to lend a hand if the technology ever got cranky with her. She gave Milt her e-mail address, and he promised to send the photo right away.

  “Thanks so much for tracking this down for me,” she said. Then she told him about Mrs. Meyer and her interest in his grandfather’s work. “She may be contacting you to ask about him. If you don’t mind, I would prefer you didn’t tell her I have the necklace and brooch. She seems to be quite a determined woman.”

  “No problem,” he said. “Remember, you promised to keep me in mind if you decide to sell the jewelry.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” she said. “If I sell it to anyone, it will be you. Thanks again.”

  She pressed the end-call button on the cell phone and tapped it thoughtfully against her chin. Someone who once owned the jewelry was involved in a crime. Still, anyone who owned the jewelry before Milt Koenig was born would be a little too old to be shinnying up trees and crawling through windows.

  Again and again, Annie’s mind was drawn to Mrs. Meyer’s odd behavior about the jewelry. The pieces weren’t all that valuable, so a wealthy woman like that wouldn’t be after them for their worth. And since she couldn’t be more than a few years older than Milt Koenig, she couldn’t possibly be the woman in the photo.

  Annie shook her head and slipped her cell phone back in her purse. Maybe the other sleuths waiting for her at A Stitch in Time could help make sense of it. She glanced at her watch and groaned, she was definitely going to be late. She pulled out carefully into the road and quickly covered the last few blocks to the needlework shop.

  As she’d expected, most of the chairs were taken when she walked into the shop. Peggy was the only one missing.

  “Great!” Gwen exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. “We can get started.”

  “You may be enjoying this far too much,” Alice told her, smiling.

  Gwen gave an elegant shrug. “I like a little adventure now and then.”

  Annie slipped into her chair. Since no one else had pulled out any needlework, she set her project bag gently on the floor beside her. “So this is strictly a mystery meeting?” she said.

  “We all have updates,” Alice said with a nod. “Who wants to go first?”

  “I think we should start with our most obvious clue,” Gwen answered. “The scratches. We need to note which of our suspects has scratches. I saw Simon Gunderson, and he has a bandaged hand, so he’s still a suspect.”

  “For a number of reasons,” Stella said primly.

  “John doesn’t have scratches,” Alice said. “Not on his hands, forearms, neck, or face. And I don’t know anyone here who could be his partner to do the housebreaking other than me.”

  Annie smiled. “I’ll vouch for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Kate sighed. “We haven’t found Sunny to examine her for scratches, though Vanessa did find out her name from Harry. It’s …”

  “Sunny Day,” Annie finished. “I accidentally ran into her in Storm Harbor. She has no scratches on her hands, but she was wearing a scarf around her neck that could have covered scratches.”

  “When I was in high school, I sometimes wore a scarf to cover … um … other things,” Alice said.

  Annie looked at her quizzically, not sure what she meant, and she saw equal confusion on the faces of Gwen and Stella.

  “You use a scarf to cover up … um … love bites,” Alice said, the last words almost a whisper.

  “Oh.” Annie felt her face heat up and took another peek at Kate, who looked decidedly distressed. “Still, it could just be cat scratches.”

  “Or not,” Kate said in a soft, sad voice. “I had to do the scarf thing in high school too. When I was dating Harry especially.”

  The room fell into an uneasy silence, and Annie felt horrible about making Kate feel bad. She really hadn’t considered that explanation, or she might not have brought it up.

  “But we can’t rule this strumpet out as a suspect,” Stella said, her blue eyes flashing. “That makes two suspects.”

  “Maybe three,” Annie said quietly. “The last one doesn’t really make sense, but somehow I cannot mark her off.”

  “Who is that?” Alice asked.

  “Let me tell you what I learned from Milt Koenig first,” Annie said. She explained about her meeting with the young jeweler and how he recognized the design of the remaining pieces. Then she told them about the phone call she’d gotten on the way over. “I haven’t checked my e-mail yet, of course, but clearly the jewelry was made by Milt’s grandfather, and a scandal may be associated with it somehow. That might be why it looked familiar to you, Stella.”

  Stella nodded. “It would help if I saw the photo.”

  “I’ll bring it in after I print it out,” Annie said.

  “But that doesn’t tell us who the new suspect is,” Kate said. “Surely you don’t think it’s someone Stella’s age, climbing trees and grabbing jewelry.”

  “No, but someone has shown an enduring fascination with this set of jewelry.” Annie went on to describe the mask auction and the unusual change in Victoria Meyer’s behavior. “She paid a thousand dollars for the little mask I made, but then she didn’t wear it at the ball.”

  “The mask she wore matched her gown perfectly,” Gwen said. “I noticed it because I remembered how much her husband paid for it. It is possible she didn’t know he’d bought it when he did.”

  “But my mask would have never gone well with that gown,” Annie said.

  “A woman like Victoria Meyer has many gowns,” Stella said. “Choosing a different one is a small matter.”

  Annie nodded. “I know, and that makes perfect sense, except she sent her assistant to my house to try to buy the rest of the set.”

  “She knew there was more to the set?” Alice asked, her eyebrows raised.

  “I’m not sure,” Annie said. “Her note was vague. She was interested if there was more to the set. Maybe I’m just being silly.”

  “I really can’t picture that woman climbing trees,” Alice said.

  “But a woman like that could easily hire someone to climb trees for her,” Stella said, coloring slightly as she spoke. “As much as I loathe bringing up my own foolish mistakes of the past, I did hire someone to retrieve something from Annie once.”

  Annie smiled gently at her. “All water well under the bridge.”

  Gwen cocked her head and asked, “Stella, do you think Victoria is a suspect?”

  Stella sighed. “I don’t know, but I am merely saying we shouldn’t automatically dismiss her out of hand. I fully know that money and position do not keep a woman from behaving foolishly.”

  “I’ll concede that,” Gwen said. “But I still think those two biologists are involved in this. Their behavior is just as odd. The young man clearly has the scratches. And either one of them is fully capable of climbing trees or grabbing hair combs!”

  Mary Beth crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “I’ll concede that Jenna Paige is a bit overwhelming, but she hasn’t done anything ominous.”

  “So, did you learn anything new about her when she came into the shop yesterd
ay?” Annie said. “Gwen told me Stella planned to grill her.”

  “She doesn’t require much grilling,” Mary Beth said mildly. “With Miss Paige it’s more a matter of directing the flow.”

  “She continues to ask a great many questions about the community,” Stella said. “All completely unrelated to lobsters and lobster fishing. Yesterday, she asked me about the Historical Society, the cultural center, Dress to Impress, and the public school system.” The old woman sniffed slightly. “I cannot imagine why she would think I know anything about the local public school system. I am hardly likely to be the parent of small children.”

  “Did you manage to ask her anything?” Alice asked.

  “It wasn’t easy,” Stella said. “But I did direct the conversation to the Harvest Ball, and I learned where those ridiculous costumes came from, which of the dresses she liked best at the ball, and her opinion of each of the canapés that Maplehurst Inn served.”

  “Not exactly related to the theft,” Alice said.

  Stella held up a hand. “I also heard her lengthy opinion about the electrical wiring at Maplehurst Inn and how it might cause a blackout. Apparently Dr. Gunderson is quite good at electrical wiring, and he is especially interested in old buildings.”

  “And would likely know how to turn off the lights in an old inn,” Alice said.

  “Likely so,” Stella said. “I also learned that as soon as the lights went out, Dr. Gunderson left, telling her he was going to see if he could help with the power problem. She was quite proud of him for his helpfulness, even if it left her without a dance partner for over an hour.”

  “See,” Gwen said. “He has the knowledge to put out the lights. He left Jenna in the dark and didn’t reappear until after he’d had plenty of time to get to Annie’s and back.”

  “It also sounds like Jenna is not involved,” Mary Beth noted. “She’d hardly tell you all that if she knew how suspicious it looked.”

  “Maybe not,” Gwen said doubtfully, “but you have to admit this boosts Simon Gunderson to the top of the suspect list.”