A Killer Necklace

by Melodie Campbell

  She would have to convince him of that.

  They could fly to another city and start over. Maybe someplace warm, like Arizona. Settle in Tucson. Not Phoenix, where their old set had homes. Maybe even Sedona…somewhere tucked away from crowds.

  And she would have Garry all to herself. Finally.

  As she turned the corner, she thought back to her younger days. Had she really wanted Garry to leave his wife, way back then?

  To be honest, she didn’t have an answer. The younger Cathy had wanted the thrill of an affair. She had bathed in the giddy feeling of being loved extravagantly, and being considered worth the risk.

  Had their affair continued to progress over months and even years, what would have happened? Would Garry have wanted to marry her? Would she have pressed her husband for a divorce, in that eventuality?

  Well, the divorce came anyway, but later, and not prompted by her.

  By that time, Garry was lost to her, behind bars.

  No need to think about that now. Instead, she could think about the days to come.

  She walked determinedly down the busy city sidewalk, with a definite spring to her step.

  Her feet seemed to stop automatically in front of Bella Sposa.

  “Sorry,” muttered a younger woman, who bumped into her.

  Cathy hardly noticed. She was remembering something Anna had said.

  This was the store where Gina had bought her wedding dress.

  In the window was a collection of stunning white confections that looked as if they had walked off the pages of Vogue Magazine. This was the stuff of dreams.

  Nothing suitable for an older bride, of course.

  Cathy smiled to herself. She would look ridiculous in these sweeping bridal dresses that had the look of so many Disney Princess gowns.

  But the shop would have other, more suitable designer ensembles, she knew. Perhaps even in the Mother of the Bride department.

  She hesitated. It was too soon. Garry hadn’t mentioned anything about the future, except for getting his money back. She didn’t want to jinx anything.

  But the impulse was too great. She ran up the steps to the entrance.

  What happened next was probably the most blissful hour of Cathy’s life.

  They treated her like a queen, of course. Gown after gown came out, each dripping with glamour and sophistication.

  “So many times, we get these young girls,” said the well-groomed sales associate, shaking her head. “Prom dresses!”

  “Pardon?”

  “They all want poufy prom dresses for their wedding.”

  Cathy smiled.

  “Either that, or something so sexy it’s indecent.”

  “It could be those reality shows,” said Cathy.

  “They simply have no idea how to dress,” said the manager, who brought her a thin flute of champagne.

  “A summer bride is so delightful for us.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if we will be married in summer,” Cathy said, hastily. “I’m not sure when he will be able to get away. It may be more of a spur of the moment thing.” No kidding, she thought ruefully.

  The manager tittered. “Sonia meant a woman in the summer of her life. You are too young to be considered in your autumn years.”

  That made her feel good.

  “If your date is indefinite, perhaps you would like to look at our ready-to-wear collection? We have several beautiful and eminently suitable gowns in your size that you could take with you today, if they don’t require alterations.”

  Cathy brightened at that. It would be great to walk out with something now. Then she could be ready for whenever, and not make a big deal about it. She was pretty sure Garry wasn’t the type to enjoy a fuss.

  They had lots in her size. She pawed through the first ten or so designer gowns, becoming more excited with each minute. All the big names were represented here. Vera Wang, Maggie Sottero, Pnina Tornai…

  Bliss!

  Finally, she pulled three dresses from the rack.

  “Let me start with these.”

  “Perfect! You can’t imagine what a pleasure it is for us to help a woman of your discerning taste,” said the first.

  Cathy lapped it up.

  An hour later, when she had just about settled on a Grace Kelly-style ice blue raw silk sheath, Cathy’s cellphone rang. She clicked it on.

  “Where are you?” said Garry. “I tried the salon. They said you had left.” His voice sounded brusque.

  “At a bridal shop downtown,” she said, automatically fingering the fabric.

  Pause.

  “Who’s getting married?”

  Cathy felt panic. She thought fast. “Gina Monroe from The Weather Network. Remember, I told you I knew her mother. We’re on the hospital guild together.” She was over-explaining, she knew.

  “Stay right where you are. Don’t move. I’ll come and pick you up. Give me the address.”

  Cathy remained vaguely puzzled as she clicked off the phone. She was fine with taking taxis, but it was nice to be picked up, of course. Showed that he cared.

  Which brought her back to the current dilemma.

  Should she take the ice blue sheath? Or the oyster one-shoulder with the shearing that gave her such a nice shape? The ice blue would need to be shortened. She would have to come back for it.

  The one-shoulder gown was flattering, but damn, she loved the ice blue.

  What the hell. You only get married once for the second time.

  “I’ll take both,” she said happily.

  Chapter 27

  “Bring me the jewels and nobody will get hurt.”

  “Joshua?” Gina said into the handset again. TV people could be really weird sometimes. Most especially eccentric and flamboyant film critic Joshua Johnson. That must be what this was— Toronto’s second most popular film buff playing some gangster movie prank. “Joshua, what’s this about, really?” Today she was super busy at work. No time for jokes.

  “Stop calling me Joshua.”

  “What would you like me to call you?” Did I really succumb to saying that?

  “Shut up and listen.”

  Gina yanked the handset from her ear, her face twisted in confusion and anger. Hesitantly, she brought the receiver back.

  “Bring the jewels to your wedding. Put them on the far end of the bench on the right side of the church vestibule, going in. Then walk down the aisle and forget all about them.”

  “Huh?”

  “Gina, don’t play dumb with me. All your loved ones will be there on Saturday, won’t they? You don’t want anything to happen to them. Or to you.”

  Gina felt the hairs bristle on the backs of her arms and a sensation of chill swept over her. This wasn’t even slightly funny.

  “A very simple transaction and you’ll never hear from me again.”

  “But… How—”

  Click.

  She took a few deep breaths. A few moments to collect herself. Then she pulled her torso up straight in her chair and called Kristen.

  “Kristen, did my last caller give his name?”

  “No, he just asked for you directly and I put him through.”

  “Is there any way to trace his call?”

  Kristen paused for a moment on the line. Not a request she gets frequently.

  “Um. Maybe. I don’t know how to do it personally.”

  “Can you call the cops for me and patch them through?”

  “Certainly.”

  Singapore Noodles is Toronto comfort food, thought Becki. That’s why Gina chose to bring the dish home, plop the brown paper bag down on the counter, and why she’s now hastily and distractedly hunting for plates to serve it in.

  “Pasta plates…” Gina mumbled.

  Becki dared not interrupt her. Not yet. She already knew something was wrong. Something big. Shit. Shit. Shit. The what would come later. She helped her friend by tearing open the bag and pulling out the two sets of wooden chopsticks, fused together at the top and enveloped in a
translucent paper sheath. Napkins, a huge lidded plastic container of noodles, Chinese Almond Cookies and Fortune Cookies for later.

  She pried open the lid of the main entrée. The bolstering scent of curry wafted up. Usually the rice noodles would be fried with shrimp and chicken but Gina had ordered the veggie version just to please. All the regular vegetables like julienne of onion and carrot, bean sprouts, plus scrambled egg and tiny cubes of tofu. Becki arranged the meal buffet-style and went to grab drinks from the fridge.

  “Okay, now hit me,” she said, once they’d eaten about half the noodles. Gina must feel a bit better now.

  “I got a call at work today.”

  Becki didn’t mention that Gina must get plenty of calls at work.

  “It was a threat.”

  Becki’s chopsticks slipped from mid-air down to her plate. “A threat? Yikes! About what?”

  Gina relayed the gist of it.

  Since Becki had unconsciously been clenching her abdomen muscles, she took a breath then exhaled with, “Oh my God!” got up, rounded the bar and hugged her friend.

  Gina was obviously trembling even though it had to be 25ºC in the condo.

  The next question was self-evident. “Was this person a man or a woman?”

  “Man.”

  “Um…okay—”

  “Or a woman disguising herself as a man,” continued Gina. “So easy to do with electronics, Tony says.”

  “Now we’re really getting somewhere,” ventured Becki.

  Gina pouted but a grin lurked beneath. “I called the cops,” she added.

  “Of course.”

  “This is nuts, Becki, my wedding is already crawling with cops.”

  “You’re referring to my dear husband and, well, your own beloved?”

  “But a cops and robbers theme was not what I had in mind!”

  Gina was finally loosening up. Becki rubbed her back one more time then returned to her chair. Perhaps now it would be safe to delve further. Becki asked, “Do you think jewels refer to the necklace set discovered in the strongbox hidden in Louisa’s wall?”

  “First thing that crossed my mind. Um, after I realized we weren’t talking about a movie featuring James Cagney. Why the hell would someone think I have those jewels anyway?”

  Another mouthful of spicy noodles helped Becki think things through out loud. “The person who wants the necklace couldn’t find it in Louisa’s house, so of course he/she assumes someone else found it first.”

  “Why assume it was me for heaven’s sake? We do have a few real suspects in Louisa’s murder.”

  “That’s just it. We have a few suspects. But do our suspects even know about each other?”

  “Who’ve we got? Lottie the friend, Garry the ex, Sylvia the maid, Douglas the developer…”

  “Not the strongest connections. And yet everyone knows about you, Gina. You were in the newspaper article about the murder. You’re on The Weather Network. You’re also in the paper about your wedding.”

  “Yes, someone clearly thinks I’m another misbehaving Canadian personality.”

  “Ha!”

  “Okay,” Gina said, “so what I don’t get is, if someone is looking for the jewels, why in hell would he/she burn down Louisa’s place? What’s the motivation for that? Seems kinda counterproductive to me.”

  “I agree. But who says it wasn’t just kids having a party in the empty house that started the fire? We haven’t got anything on that yet. And, um, maybe because of it, we good guys caught a lucky break. Has to happen once in a while, doesn’t it?”

  “I suppose.”

  “If the place hadn’t burned down, we never would have found the jewels either.”

  “Are you saying that Louisa was murdered for those jewels but we might never have known that, and on top of that it might all have been for nothing because they would have remained buried in the wall?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “God rest her soul.”

  “Hear, hear,” Becki said. Then with a noise somewhere between a cough and clearing her throat, she added, “Maybe Louisa and you aren’t the only ones some bad guy is after.”

  “What?”

  “When you listed our suspects just now, you got me thinking. Do you know that Sylvia was run down by a car in Black Currant Bay?”

  “No, that’s horrible!”

  “I know.”

  “Is she…dead?”

  “Luckily not. But Karl did go the hospital to talk to her and he reported she’s real banged up.”

  “A coincidence that Louisa is murdered and then her cleaning lady is struck by a car?”

  “Maybe, but I got the distinct sense that Sylvia was targeted.”

  “How did you get that feeling?” Gina scrunched up her face.

  “I saw it happen.”

  Gina’s jaw dropped.

  “I’ve been playing the scene over and over again in my mind.”

  “How did it go?”

  “This big, dark blue car with a silvery quality—my eye for colour is coming in handy here—appears to veer out of control, crashes into Sylvia, but then manages to straighten itself out and speed away from the scene. Which in and of itself is illegal.”

  “Did you get the plate number?”

  “No, and I’m kicking myself for that. The only clue is a hub cap that was left at the scene. Karl’s working on that, but it’s going to take a while because there are many models of hub cap out there that fit lots of different cars.”

  “And you’re just telling me this now, Becki?”

  “Because it’s so close to your wedding day and we’ve been so busy with other activities and considerations…” Becki’s voice tapered to a whisper.

  “What’s your fortune cookie say?” Gina asked suddenly.

  On cue, Becki broke open her crisp wafer, extracted the tiny slip of white paper. She cleared her throat then read, “In prosperity, our friends know us. In adversity we know our friends.”

  Gina grabbed her hand and squeezed.

  “Yours?” Becki asked.

  “Don’t be afraid to smile, you never know who’s falling in love with it!”

  “Perfect!” Becki said.

  Chapter 28

  Gina gazed at the morning paper in disbelief.

  “Treasure Found in Wall of Victim’s House” read a headline.

  Her frantic eyes scanned the article…New developments in the murder case of Louisa Davidson. Diamond and sapphire necklace found at the scene of the burned out house…

  Gina sat back on the island stool, her mind speeding through scenarios. The Toronto paper, dammit! How did a Toronto reporter find out about the necklace in the wall? Who the heck had spilled the beans? One of the cops in bed with the media?

  Or was it one of the firemen at the discovery?

  One thing was for sure, she was convinced Karl wouldn’t have spoken about this. And it sure wasn’t Becki or her.

  But someone must have leaked it to the Toronto paper, and Karl was going to be furious when he found out.

  What should she do?

  The phone rang. Gina reached for it automatically.

  “Did you see in the paper, about the necklace?” said Anna.

  Gina nodded, and then realized her mother couldn’t hear that.

  “How could they have found out?” Gina blurted out the question in her head.

  Silence. Okay, that sentence was a little ambiguous, Gina thought. She strove for clarity in the next one. “The papers, I mean. Who could have told them?”

  Whoops. She realized her mistake almost instantly.

  “So you knew about the necklace, Gina?”

  Best to come clean when it’s your mom.

  “Becki called me about it. Karl wanted my opinion on whether it could be real.”

  “And?”

  “It’s real. They sent me a photo. 18 carat gold—I had them check for the mark.”

  More silence.

  “You better phone Becki so she can
tell Karl the cat is out of the bag,” said Anna.

  Now Gina was silent.

  “You have to, Gina. It could jeopardize his investigation. He needs to know.”

  “I know,” said Gina, swallowing hard. This wasn’t going to go over well. And there was something else that bothered her even more.

  She anticipated her mother’s next question.

  “Are you going to tell Tony?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  Karl looked down at the business card in his hand.

  The last person he was expecting to see at the station house was Tony Ferrero. Tony? Three hours away from his beloved Toronto, in this northern Ontario backwater of Black Currant Bay?

  “He says he can’t wait long,” said Mary, the elderly gal on reception who had once been a ringer for Ann Baxter.

  “I’ll come out,” Karl said, swinging his long legs out from behind the desk.

  It had been a hell of a busy day so far. Call out to a car accident on the highway. That had ended badly for one driver.

  He’d only just gotten back to his desk, and now this.

  His mind was whirling. Tony wouldn’t be here unless it was something about the girls. Something important.

  Tony was standing, not sitting, of course. His curly brown hair was cut shorter than usual, but still, the stance was unmistakable. He stood looking out the front window with his arms crossed on his chest. No slick suit today—he was dressed in a golf shirt and jeans.

  His back was rigid, as if poised to move swiftly. Everything about the man spoke of quick, definite movement.

  The sound of footsteps brought him around.

  “Tony,” Karl said. “What brings you up here?”

  Tony grasped the hand offered and pumped it firmly.

  “Place we can talk privately—maybe outside?”

  Karl smiled. That was Tony, all right. No stopping for small talk.

  He glanced over at the reception desk. “Mary, I’ll be back in ten.”

  Mary smiled back at him.

  Karl held open the door. “Back of the station. We have a picnic table.” He led the way around the side of the building, past the neglected morning glories that clung valiantly to the old wooden trellis.