Jessica elbowed me and shot me a quizzical look. The case I was referring to had been a bitter dispute between two dog breeders, over the parentage of a litter of chihuahua-daschund puppies. I bounced my eyebrows at Jessica. Sure, the case hadn’t been over millions of dollars, or even about humans, but I’d still learned plenty about paternity suits.
“This is happening too fast,” Lady Octavia said. “I can’t think.” She didn’t return to her seat but moved toward the door. “You’d better go now. Thank you for driving out of the way to come see me.”
She led us all the way to the front door, where she grabbed a pocketbook and pulled out a handful of bills that she shoved at me. “Take this,” she said. “I always pay my debts.”
Jessica’s eyes bulged at the sight of the wad of cash.
I had to refuse the money, explaining that any billing would be done through the law firm, and that Corine would be in touch as needed.
“Just one more question,” I said.
“No.” Lady Octavia shook her head. “I shouldn’t have called you.”
“Where were you on Sunday? Were you in New York?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why? Who is asking?”
“Were you entertaining the Koenig brothers in New York?”
She blinked repeatedly. “They are dear family friends, and we share a love for the opera.”
“Were you at the opera together on Saturday?”
“Friday,” she said. “Now, please go. Thank you. Tak."
Chapter 19
"That was bananas,” Jessica said. “Like feeding-time-at-the-gorilla-pen bananas.”
We were driving back into town, and it had taken her five minutes of contemplation to craft an adequate response to our meeting with the countess.
“Bananas,” I agreed. “Get it all out of your system now, because you can’t tell anyone at work tonight.”
“I know, I know,” she said. “I’m going to get changed now so nobody at the Olive Grove gets suspicious about why I was dressed up so fancy. I hate lying, so it’s better if nobody asks any questions.”
She lowered the back of the passenger seat to maximum reclining position and climbed over the headrest, into the backseat.
“Speaking of gorillas,” I commented as her feet whipped by my head.
“We’re in the boonies,” she said, unzipping the bag she’d brought along with her change of clothes for work. “Nobody’s going to see my boobage if I’m quick.” She whipped her pink blouse off with an exotic flourish, revealing her colorful daisy-print bra and pale, lightly freckled skin.
“Are you sure it was a deer back there in the backyard?” I asked. “Because if Dieter Koenig was murdered for his fortune, it stands to reason that anyone threatening to split the honeypot to pay for an additional heir might also be in danger.”
Jessica continued her quick change in the backseat, wriggling out of the skirt and into dark-green slacks. At least she was right about nobody being around on the deserted roads outside town limits.
“It was a young buck,” she said. “He was giving me a flirty look with his big deer eyes before he bounced off into the trees.”
“Wild animals love you,” I said.
“That’s because I always bring peanuts on my walks and throw them to the crows. They have a language, you know. The crows tell everyone to be nice to the cute redhead.” She pulled on her cream waitress blouse and climbed up into the passenger seat.
“What did you think of the countess?” I asked.
Jessica fastened her seat belt. “She was magical. So regal, and she had that glow of specialness around her.”
“Glow of specialness?”
“You know. Like a princess,” Jessica said airily, as though she’d met other princesses and could pick them out, the way she could spot the best, nearly ripe avocados and cantaloups.
“I’ll put that in my notes,” I said.
After a moment, Jessica asked, “Do you really think she might be in danger?”
“She was definitely nervous, and where was the baby? I didn’t hear a peep, and you’d expect him or her to be crying out for that milk.”
“Maybe she pumps,” Jessica said. “She probably has a nanny, because all rich people do. Maybe they were on the top floor where we wouldn’t hear them.” She was quiet for a moment then asked, “Is it a boy or a girl?”
“How should I know?”
She leaned over and playfully socked me on the shoulder. “You’re the brilliant detective who’s always two steps ahead of everyone. Boy or girl?”
“You’re putting me on the spot,” I said.
“And?”
“Girl,” I said. “She made some strangely barbed comments about men and control, right before you came into the room. If she had a baby boy, something tells me she wouldn’t have been so harsh.”
“Or maybe it is a boy, and she’s worried her son will grow up to be a jerk.”
“You could be right, Detective Kelly. Is boy your official guess?”
She cracked the window for some fresh air. “Yes. I’ll take boy, and you take girl. Care to make things more interesting?”
“Sure,” I said. “The loser has to wear the furry costume in the Forest Folk Fun Run next month.” I shot her an evil look.
“Ew,” she said.
“Don’t worry. My father had it professionally dry-cleaned after last year’s incident. You won’t smell a thing.”
She gave me a squinty look. “The baby’s definitely a boy, and you’ll be wearing that furry monster costume.”
“Assuming we find out by then, or even if we find out at all.”
“I have faith in you,” she said. “You’ll figure it out. Nobody can keep their secrets from you for very long.”
I didn’t respond. I wish I had the same unshakable faith in myself that Jessica had.
Our meeting with the countess hadn’t taken as long as we’d planned, so we browsed the bookstore for a while before I dropped Jessica off at the Olive Grove for her shift.
From the parking lot, I called Logan’s office. This time Corine put me straight through to him.
“How are things?” I asked breezily.
“I don’t know,” he said, which didn’t put me at ease. Was he still sore at me for whatever it was that had happened earlier that day at my house? When I’d been blamed for letting the cat smell like Tony?
“I met with the countess,” I said.
“How did that go?”
“She let me wear her tiara.”
“What?” He sounded more horrified than amused.
Adopting a more serious attitude, I relayed all the details of my afternoon meeting with Countess Octavia of Krengerborg while he said almost nothing.
“What does this mean?” I asked when I was out of details.
“It means that Deets is a baby daddy,” he said.
I groaned. “Don’t tell me Della has infected you this badly. Baby daddy? And you’re calling him Deets? And what’s the deal with her calling you Logie? It sounds like something baseball players spit up.”
Ignoring my question, he asked, “What are you doing right now?”
“Nothing. Do you want me to come over there and kidnap you away from that place? It’s almost four o’clock. You should get off early to make up for all the overtime you’ve been putting in.”
“Stormy,” he said with irritation. “I have to work. It doesn’t get done when I’m not there. The law isn’t like your gift shop, where you have Brianna taking care of everything.”
“Oh,” I said, hurt by his tone, not to mention his complete disregard of how hard I’d been working at my private investigation business. “Well, I’d better let you get back to your very important job of lawyering. Get those billable hours.”
He started saying something, but it didn’t sound anything like an apology, so I ended the call abruptly. Holding the phone in my hand, I sensed an incoming text message, followed by an inevitable fight. I shut off the power for the pho
ne before it could get started, and put the thing in the glove box.
I thought about going home but then remembered the unfinished laundry that awaited on the sofa.
I tapped my steering wheel as a father and young daughter walked by on the sidewalk. The little girl danced ahead of him, excitedly showing him what I guessed was a brand new bracelet.
Ruby’s Treasure Trove was within walking distance, and the August weather was pleasantly inviting. I gathered my purse and casebook, left the car, and set off toward the jewelry shop.
The owner of the store, Ruby Sparkes, knew everyone and everything. She should have been the first person I talked to after the accident at the Koenig Estate, but talking to her right now was better than never.
Chapter 20
Walking into Ruby’s Treasure Trove, located at the corner of Broad Avenue and Bergamot Street, immediately improved my mood. The jewelry and collectibles store was still every bit as magical as it had been when I was a child, back when I’d come in with my father to pick out my birthday present.
The beach-hued interior was brightly lit by a multitude of spotlights. A royal fortune in jewelry lay attractively in sand-colored cases, as though a pirate’s chest of treasure had busted open and washed up on lush, velvet shores. A dark-blue carpet completed the seaside feeling.
The shop’s owner wasn’t in sight. Her young employee, Hayley, was helping a tall, thin man. Hayley, the little sister of my friend Harper, who worked at the Olive Grove with Jessica, was working full-time for the summer, but would have her hours scaled back to part-time when she returned to school in the fall.
Hayley gave me about as cheerful of a greeting as the teen could muster. “What’s up, Stormy?”
I replied, “I hear your sister isn’t keen to have you driving her car.”
Hayley rolled her eyes hard enough to do damage. “She’s in complete denial that I’m a better driver than she is.”
I leaned over the display case to look at some earrings that caught my attention. “I’m sure that’s the reason,” I said with a smile.
The man she’d been helping turned to me. “Stormy Day! How are things at the gift shop?” Before I could answer, he said, “You should know, your presence is sorely missed at our monthly storeowner meetings. Everyone who cares about Broad Avenue’s future should be there.”
“Mr. Jenkins, I swear I’ll make it one of these days,” I said.
The man was Leo Jenkins, the owner of Masquerade. He’d gained a few pounds since his health scare the previous year but still dressed in black and looked like a grim reaper. At least he was sweeter than he appeared, assuming you didn’t get him talking about experimental health treatments and his biological functions. I’d heard phrases from his thin lips that should never be uttered in a retail establishment.
“Call me Leo,” he said.
“I’ll try,” I replied politely, but I didn’t mean it. Call him Leo? I had a hard enough time not calling him Creepy Jeepers.
He held up his left hand. “The old wedding band fits again. Thanks again for tracking it down for me.”
“My pleasure. How’s Mrs. Jeepers? I mean, Mrs. Jenkins?”
His deep-set eyes crinkled behind his rectangular-framed glasses. “As lovely as the day we met. I’m picking up a little something for our anniversary. Another decade’s gone by, and I’m hoping she’ll agree to a renewal of our vows.”
“What?” asked Hayley. “What do you mean, renew? Like a rental agreement? Is that normal for married people?”
Leo Jenkins and I shared a knowing look and a special grown-ups’ moment over the teenager’s naivety.
Somewhere in the showroom, a speaker crackled to life, and out came Ruby’s voice. “Hayley, you can send Stormy back here. Unless she wants to buy those earrings. Then you can send her back after she buys them.”
I waved at the newest camera and walked around the display counter to the door leading to the back of the shop. Behind me, I could hear Leo Jenkins spinning a wild tale about standard marriage contracts and little-known legal clauses. I had to chuckle to myself. Some older men loved nothing more than telling harmless lies to wide-eyed younger girls. I saw no malice in it; if anything, the jokes taught girls to have skepticism. Being raised the way I was, by my father the perpetual prankster, I probably had five times the usual amount of skepticism.
Ruby was pouring hot water into a teapot when I made my way into the tiny kitchenette.
“Earl Grey?” she asked.
“We can’t break tradition,” I answered. “How’s the new intercom and camera working out?”
She gave me a big grin. “I feel omniscient. I know all, see all.” She let out a witchy cackle. “I’ll be unstoppable.”
“I’m glad all this power hasn’t gone to your head.”
She made a fist with one jeweled hand. “Now if only the breeder would hurry up with my winged monkeys.”
“Ruby Sparkes, you’d scare me if you weren’t so adorable.”
She grabbed the tray and nodded for me to follow her into the secret tearoom. “It’s the purple clothes,” she said. “Nobody fears a little old lady dressed in purple. We can do anything. We could get away with murder.”
I took a seat at the round bistro table next to the secret window that, as far as the rest of town was concerned, was just a round mirror embedded in a decorative mosaic wall.
Ruby sat across from me and poured the fragrant tea into dainty cups. Ruby was an energetic single lady of sixty-something, with curly hair colored a purple-red shade between auburn and grape soda. She’d never had children but treated every child she met with love and affection. With her friendly voice, warm smile, and matronly bosom, it was no wonder she was a friend and confidante to almost everyone in town, and that her jewelry store had been a fixture of the community for over thirty years.
“Speaking of murder,” she said, raising her eyebrows.
I sipped my tea and raised my eyebrows to match.
“Was it murder?” she asked. “I understand you were there when they discovered Dieter Koenig searching the bottom of his swimming pool for another billion dollars.”
“He wasn’t a billionaire. A billion dollars is a thousand million.”
She sipped her tea, eyebrows still raised. Now it was her turn to stare until I cracked.
“Off the record, I don’t know if it was murder,” I said. “The whole thing smells fishy to me, but maybe it’s just the money that puts things into a different light. He was found dead in a swimming pool, which isn’t that crazy. You know the statistics as well as I do. A swimming pool is more likely to kill someone than a gun, sadly.”
She swished her mouth from side to side, pondering. “That’s what makes a pool the perfect murder weapon.”
“Technically, I think it was the diving board.”
“Someone hit him with a diving board? Brilliant! Bravo.” Affecting an upper-crust English accent, she said, “Jolly good sport.”
I gave her a suspicious look. “Ruby, is there something you want to tell me? You don’t usually speak ill of the dead.”
She twirled one of her bouncy purple-red curls and batted her eyelashes. “Last Sunday, I was in Las Vegas at a trade show, picking out treasures for the store and making sure the gentlemen dancers got a few tips tucked into their underpants.”
“Thanks for the visual, but why are you telling me this?”
“My alibi,” she said. “I certainly didn’t hit the old cheapskate with a diving board.”
“Cheapskate? I’ve never heard anyone say that about Dieter Koenig. Everyone says he loved this town and tried to support it as much as he could.”
“He never spent one crusty penny here! And I’ve had some lean years where I could have used his pennies, crusty or otherwise!”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “He must have had terrible taste. Your selection was too good for him.”
At my compliment, Ruby calmed down, to my relief. She wasn’t usually so excitable, but
something had gotten into her.
“That’s kind of you,” she said softly. “You’re so good with words. You obviously inherited your father’s charm.”
“And my mother’s temper, unfortunately.” I sipped my tea and gazed out the round window at Broad Avenue. A woman walked by, frowning and talking on her phone. By the look of it, whoever was on the other end of the line was in trouble. I thought of my recent blow-up at Logan and felt ashamed. Why couldn’t I just take a deep breath and count to ten? Since when did hanging up on people ever solve anyone’s problems?
“It was his wife,” Ruby said with finality, as though making a declaration.
“Dieter Koenig’s wife has been dead for years,” I said. “She didn’t kill him, unless it was her ghost.”
“No. I mean she was the one who blackballed my store. She and I used to be friends. She actually babysat me when I was a little girl. Later, when I was a teenager, I idolized her. Followed her everywhere, like one of those dogs you pack in your purse. Did you know that? Then she started dating Dieter, and she couldn’t get away from her old friends and her old life fast enough.”
“That sucks,” I said sympathetically. For Ruby to carry a grudge, she must have been hurt. “Why would Mrs. Koenig blackball your store, though? That sounds like some serious hate.”
Ruby drew herself up taller. “She didn’t like me dating Tim Barber. He was quite the catch, back in the day.”
“Tim Barber? That guy?” I was shocked to hear Dieter’s late wife had been involved with the handyman, but within seconds, I formulated a scenario in which Tim Barber had killed old Dieter Koenig over some forty-year-old rivalry. The handyman had means and opportunity, and now, if Ruby’s memory was to be trusted, he also had motive.
Ruby waved one jeweled hand. “Oh, please. Tim. Dave. Harry. The old ho-bag was involved with anyone and everyone. I could make a list.”
I scrunched my lips together to keep from laughing. Ho-bag? That wasn’t a term I’d ever heard applied to the deceased Mrs. Koenig.
Ruby gave me a dead-serious look and whispered, “There are even a few women’s names on that list. Not that you heard it from me.” Ruby looked very pleased with herself, as though outliving the woman had been her sweet revenge.
Stormy Day Mysteries 5-Book Cozy Murder Mystery Series Bundle Page 82