As she swiped a hand across her forehead, she noticed something peculiar. She pulled the binoculars that were hanging from a strap around her neck up to her eyes and scanned the shore.
“Hey! That’s Louisa’s house right there!” she said pointing.
“Where?”
“See the stone work and the lawn cascading down to the water?”
She played with the focus wheel to zoom in.
Her indignation must have shown.
“What?”
“There’s a man skulking around. I think he’s trying to get in.”
Chapter 6
Becki borrowed Gina’s cellphone to call Karl.
Gina didn’t try to listen in. The sound of their conversation couldn’t compete with the noise of the boat.
As Becki clicked off, Gina watched her forehead crease to a frown.
“He’s sending a man over to check. We’re to wait thirty minutes before going over there.”
Gina nodded. “After we get back to land, let’s walk over to her place. I could use the exercise.” It was hot, but Gina didn’t mind heat. She figured this was one of the advantages of being part Italian. Half her genes had originated in the sizzling Sicilian desert climate.
Now winter…that was a different story. Becki had a much greater tolerance for cold weather. And it sure got cold in this town, compared to Toronto.
Enjoy it now, Gina thought. She welcomed the sun on her face.
When they got to Louisa’s house, Karl was waiting for them on the front porch.
“I have a man checking inside and we’ve done a full search of the grounds. Nothing appears to be forced. It’s safe to go in.”
Gina gulped.
“You still want us to try to find some clue as to her background?”
Karl didn’t smile. This was business and his face was set to a determined look. “Anything you can find about where she may have come from before her life in Black Currant Bay will be helpful. We tried to follow up through the bank. They have a record of her opening an account in 1994, but no one remembers where she came from.”
“She didn’t have any papers or a safety deposit box?” These were such obvious questions, Gina felt silly for asking them.
“Not at this bank. We didn’t find a safety deposit box key for anyplace else.”
Weird, thought Gina.
“But she had a will,” Becki said.
“Yes, a recent one with a local lawyer. But everything in it was local. No links to anyone outside of this town, and the lawyer doesn’t know anything about her past.”
Even weirder, thought Gina. It’s like the woman didn’t exist before 1994.
Becki sighed. “That’s the problem with Canadians. We’re too polite to pressure someone into telling us about their past.”
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Karl said. He turned to Becki and his face softened. “See you at home about seven.”
She nodded but didn’t move to kiss him. Not while he’s on duty, Gina noted, smiling.
Everything about Becki made her smile. It’s like she’s a time capsule of everything that’s good in the world.
Karl left, and Gina followed Becki into the foyer.
Even though the house was hot, Gina was feeling a distinct chill. Memory of yesterday’s discovery invaded her mind. She shook her head and followed Becki up the stairs.
This is kind of creepy, she thought, going through a dead woman’s closet.
She’d never had to pack up a house after a death before. Anna and Becki had done it for Grandma, thank God.
“This is not going to be fun,” she muttered to Becki.
“No, but it’s important. Karl has a gut feel that his people may have missed something. They’ve already been through it all, so it’s not as if we’re disturbing a crime scene. Anything we can find that might give a clue to her past is useful.”
They were in the second floor bedroom of the Victorian house. Even Gina had to admit that although it was old, the place was delightful. It had been beautifully restored, with gleaming hardwood floors and period furniture.
The bedroom was painted cream. Caramel and cream linens dressed the bed. A comfortable reading chair sat by the window, next to a small bookshelf.
The bed had been made with dainty throw cushions placed carefully at the head. This was obviously a woman who took pleasure in making things look nice.
Gina watched as Becki opened the antique dresser drawers, and carefully lifted each piece of delicate clothing.
“That’s not the way to do it,” Gina said. She went over and took a drawer right out and dumped it on the four-poster bed. “Much quicker. We’re going to be giving these things to Goodwill, so it doesn’t matter if they get a little wrinkled. Besides, then we can check the drawer bottoms to see if there’s anything taped to them, like in the movies.”
Becki frowned at the mess Gina was creating on the bed. “I’m sure Karl’s people would have found anything like that.”
Gina didn’t miss Becki’s expression. She smiled to herself. Becki was careful of everything, including feelings. That’s one of the things that made her so pleasant to be around. “Well, why don’t you do the dresser drawers, and I’ll do the closet.”
Gina marched over to the closet and opened the door.
Pretty ordinary stuff in there. She pawed through hangers. One serviceable all-purpose black dress with a V neck. A few summer dresses, pretty plain. Lots of pants with elastic waists on hangers. Longer skirts. Several fleece jackets. A velour housecoat that had seen better days.
She didn’t bother to check pockets. Surely the cops had done that.
On the shelf above were purses and shoe boxes, lined up in a row. Nothing too special. A few good quality pumps, but certainly not designer. Two pairs of Mephisto sandals for summer. The purses were good-quality leather but plain, in uninspiring colours like navy and beige. She took each one down to look inside. Nothing. Not even a single tissue. This lady was truly abstemious.
“Find anything?” she asked Becki.
“Not really. Her underthings are pretty ordinary. No lover in the picture, I would guess.”
Gina smiled. It seemed freaky that Becki would even think of a ‘lover.’
“I’m going to check the other bedroom. She probably has older stuff stashed away in the closet there.” We all do, Gina thought. That’s the whole reason for second bedrooms. Of course, if we built closets big enough in the first place…
The guest bedroom was painted a pretty peach colour. The bed was sleekly furnished with good quality sheets and duvet in light grey. One night table held a reading lamp and small pile of books.
She walked to the closet and opened the door.
“Wow, oh wow,” she murmured.
This was a magic closet. As a young girl, Gina would have gone mad for the clothes in there.
“Hey Becki, come here. You won’t believe this.”
Becki poked her brown head around the corner. Gina signalled her into the room.
“Look at this,” she said. Her hands went into the closet and came out with a purple sequin evening gown with heavily padded shoulders. “Genuine late 80s couture wear, I’d bet my last dollar. The sort of thing you’d wear to a gala like the Brazilian Ball.”
“Is it real, do you think?” Becki reached for it. “Wow, is it ever heavy.”
“I know. I hate wearing sequin dresses. They kill your shoulders, and the sequins scratch your underarms.” She looked in the neck for a tag. “Escher. Went out of business in the last recession, but man, at one time they were the cream of Bloor Street. That must have cost a bundle. At least two thousand. Back then, that was a lot.”
Becki put it down on the bed and stepped back to admire it. “Wonder where she got it and why she had it?”
Gina was back in the closet, eagerly plowing through hangers. “A genuine lavender mink from Sellers-Gough. Holy cow, Becki, this is top drawer. And here’s another evening gown.”
She held up a
black satin strapless gown with a huge sapphire blue bow at the back. “Clotheslines, I’ll bet, from the late 80s. Yup, here’s the tag. It is. They’re out of business too.”
“How do you know all this?” Becki asked, incredulously.
Gina grinned. “Mom always got Vogue magazine. Since before I could read, I would drool over it every month. These clothes were in style when I was a little kid. Big shoulders, lots of sequins…flashy colours and satin bows…you can imagine how I would react. It was the era of bling. And this,” she pointed to the purple gown, “was the epitome of glamour.”
Becki shook her head. “I never had anything like this.”
“Most people wouldn’t have a place to wear something like this.” Gina picked up the gown and held it against her body. “That’s the sort of number you could only wear at a major gala. Things like hospital fund-raisers and opera or symphony balls. When I got older, I read the Style section of The Globe every weekend.” Not to mention the society column. She placed the gown reverently down on the bed.
All the Toronto elite went to the Brazilian Ball back then. Such a shame it no longer existed.
Whoa. Gina turned with a start. “Becki, how long have you known this woman?”
Becki squinted. “Since about a week after I got here. Eleven years ago. Louisa was not exactly friendly, but pleasant.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Well, she didn’t invite me over here or anything. I got the impression she was a loner. But after a few months, she’d come sit beside me at functions and meetings.” Becki looked thoughtful. “I liked her. She was never mean. Didn’t say a bad thing about anyone. Always donated a decent amount to causes and stuff.”
“Did you ever see her wear any of these things?”
Becki shook her head. “Nothing flashy. She was actually pretty dowdy. You know…didn’t bother to cover the grey in her hair. Wore lots of Tabi sportswear. She blended in pretty well up here. Nobody was jealous of her or anything.”
Gina turned back to the closet. She could just imagine the cops going through this. ‘A bunch of old party clothes,’ they would say.
And yet, here was a treasure trove of haute couture from the late 80s and early 90s. While most people, cops included, would have no idea what they were looking at, some collectors would kill for these items.
No, that was absolutely the wrong word. They wouldn’t kill for clothes. Nobody would do that.
But it surely begged the question—how and why did these things end up here, hidden away in an old closet?
Easy. Gina could answer that, all right, because she would have done the same thing herself. It was as natural to her as breathing.
The woman couldn’t bear to part with them.
Gina turned back to the closet. There were several less flashy day dresses and jackets. She quickly went through the labels—Holt Renfrew Signature, Creeds, Pat McDonagh, Marilyn Brooks, Linda Lundstrum and Bill Blass. Mainly Toronto designers, with a few New York celebrities thrown in.
Gina could imagine the woman standing in front of the closet, fingering the gorgeous materials and maybe even trying the items on one by one. Looking in the mirror…remembering her old life.
That was it, of course. This woman had a past. And it was one hell of a rich and glamorous one, probably in Toronto.
So why had she been living in disguise in the little town of Black Currant Bay?
Chapter 7
Becki and Karl had a busy day ahead of them. Today was Gina’s wedding shower, and even in a small town, a Police Chief has plenty on his plate. Add murder and you have a recipe for mayhem.
He walked into their bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Now’s the time to ask him, thought Becki.
“We didn’t go into it much last night and I understand that you can’t share everything—”
“But…?” Karl never liked a whole lot of preamble. He was a straight-to-the-point kind of guy.
“Did you figure out who that fellow was that we called you about yesterday?” Becki asked. “The one walking around Louisa’s property.”
“I told you that we searched the grounds, and of course, we gave the interior the all-clear for you.”
“Yeah, you said when you got there the place was deserted.”
“So, dead end.” He was buttoning up his white shirt.
“But a man prowling Louisa’s property does seem suspicious to you, right?”
He leaned over the bed and stared at her. “Uh…this interrogation from one of the official suspects in the case?”
“Get real,” Becki said.
“I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation for the guy you saw on Louisa’s property that has nothing to do with her death,” he said. Karl’s voice sounded more than just morning gruff. Like he was discouraging her from continuing this line of conversation.
“Like what?” she asked.
“The kid next door lobs a softball into deceased neighbour Louisa’s yard by mistake and asks his father to go find it for him and bring it back.”
Becki caught on to something he said in his previous sentence.
“Ah-ha! You said death. ‘Louisa’s death.’ Why didn’t you use the word murder? Are you purposely trying to play it down?”
“Standard police public relations advise us not to sensationalize crime.” He slipped his belt through the loops of his pants.
“But Karl, you can’t ask me to search for clues in a case and then completely downplay the event and…and…stonewall me about the details.”
“I can’t?”
“No, you can’t. It’s against the rules.”
“What rules?”
“Marriage rules.”
Karl lifted his eyebrows twice in quick succession. His equivalent to a wink. “New marriage rules get added a decade later?”
Becki rolled her eyes. “Look, thanks to Gina and me, you have a new avenue of investigation in the case. One which may or may not help you find next of kin and/or a motive for Louisa’s murder.”
“The fancy frocks?”
“Louisa obviously had some kind of a fashionable life in the past, before she came up here to Black Currant Bay.”
“You’re bargaining for something, aren’t you? I can hear it in your voice.”
“The least you can do is tell me why you’ve labelled Louisa’s death a crime. Kind of a waste of time for Gina and I to keep our eyes peeled if we don’t know what we’re keeping our eyes peeled for.”
“Okay, this is just between you and me.”
“And Gina.”
He paused.
“And she’ll probably tell Tony,” Becki added.
“Is that all?”
“I’m sure that’s it.”
“Well, I’m afraid to say that you’re right. Your former client Louisa was intentionally sent toppling to her death.”
For a brief moment Becki felt like she couldn’t breathe. Although at this point it was ridiculous to hope for a less than malicious cause of death, she found herself asking, “So, for sure, Louisa couldn’t have just fallen?”
“She was battered and cut,” Karl said. “It looks like more than from a fall down the stairs. And there was a chair down there too. A chair smeared with blood.”
The vision of Louisa crumpled at the bottom of her own staircase was one Becki was never going to be able to delete from her memory, and knowing that someone purposely sent the poor woman down to the cold hard cement made it so much worse.
Luckily she had a lot of last-minute shower preparations to do, which would distract her for a while.
She sent Gina off for a morning at the beach. She lent her a sun umbrella to stick in the sand to protect her from the blazing rays. It was going to be a scorcher of a day. Thankfully, the threat of intolerable humidity seemed to be holding off. The festivities could go on as anticipated and none of the guests, not to mention the bride-to-be, would drown in sweat.
She made sure to tell Gina not to overindulge in choco
late malteds. There would be mountains of food for everyone to share this afternoon.
She wondered who would arrive first carrying a present and/or a platter. Anne wouldn’t be attending at all because she was holding down the fort at the store, and of the two great friends Becki’d made since coming to Black Currant Bay, only Kathleen could come today. France was on holiday visiting relatives in Québec.
The rest of the guests would be an assortment of townsfolk—clients of hers, fellow shopkeepers—all of whom had either met Gina during one of her many visits here, or finagled an invitation because they loved Gina on TV.
Gina was a celebrity. The local Black Currant Bay Beacon Star had gotten wind of the shower and planned to send a cameraman.
There had already been coverage in Toronto of Gina’s prenuptials. Gina had attended many other parties thrown by relatives and friends that Becki didn’t even know about. But the more celebrations the merrier in her opinion. Most importantly, she wanted to count herself among the folks to have offered Gina an old-fashioned circle of love—the company of women of all ages to wish her well on her journey of commitment until death do us part.
“Oh my God! It’s gorgeous!” cried Becki, once she saw the dress, which Gina extricated from its protective garment bag.
“Stunning!” all the others agreed.
“A Vera Wang original.” Gina beamed at the centre of it all and swished her wedding dress around on its padded hanger to show off the back.
Of course! thought Becki. The back of a wedding gown has to be just as eye-popping as the front. During the ceremony the bride is, in fact, viewed longer from behind than she is from the front.
Gina’s wedding gown was cut from the very best silk into a strapless mermaid shape. Gina’s voluptuous curves would fill it spectacularly. And as if Gina’s perfect complexion wouldn’t glow with pure happiness enough to dim the ceremonial candles in the church on the day of her wedding, hand-sewn into the intricate lace overlay of the skirt and its short train were thousands of Swarovski crystals.
A Killer Necklace Page 3