by Traci DePree
“Who would do such a thing?” she said, more to herself than to Eli.
Eli was silent for a moment, then he said, “Phillip would have a motive to take it...”
Kate was taken aback by the accusation.
“Why do you think Phillip would take it?” She tried not to sound defensive, but the assertion seemed to come out of nowhere.
“I found his watch on the floor, Kate,” Eli said quietly. “It was where the mannequin had been.”
“Are you sure it’s his?” She didn’t like the way her voice rose.
“He was wearing it the other night,” Eli said, “when we met. It’s inscribed to him.” Kate felt as if she’d been gut-punched. “I think he must have taken it, but I just wanted to make sure you didn’t know anything...”
She was stunned silent. She remembered seeing the watch, but she struggled to comprehend how Phillip could steal the dummy. He was a good friend, not a thief. And for Eli to think she might have had something to do with it...
“I don’t know anything about it, Eli, and I’m sure Phillip doesn’t either. It must be a mistake.”
Eli went on. “The police will be here any minute. I need to go. I’m sorry, Kate.” The line clicked to a dial tone, and Kate stared at the phone for a moment before setting it back in its cradle.
None of this made sense, but how could she argue with the evidence? If it had indeed been Phillip’s watch he’d found, she couldn’t deny that Eli had good reason to think he might have taken the mannequin.
Kate decided to head over to Weston’s Antiques. She needed to find out who could have taken this link to Paul’s heritage and whether or not a man she’d trusted for years was worthy of her trust.
SHERIFF ROBERTS WAS at the antiques store when Kate arrived. The rotund sheriff was talking with Eli near the cash register.
Eli’s eyes narrowed in suspicion when Kate came into the store. Surely he didn’t think that she had something to do with the theft! He turned back to the sheriff without offering a greeting.
“Hi, Kate,” the sheriff said with a nod. “That mannequin just keeps causing trouble, it seems.” He was holding the watch in a clear plastic bag.
“Could I have a look?” Kate asked.
The sheriff shrugged. “Just don’t take it out of the bag.”
Kate took the bag, turning it over in her hands. She had no doubt that the watch was Phillip’s. She’d gone with Ginny to pick it out in San Antonio at a little store along the River Walk. The inscription on the back read, “To Phillip, the love of my life. Here’s to 25 more.”
Kate’s heart sank in resignation as she handed the bag back to Sheriff Roberts.
“That your friend Phillip’s?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Any idea why he would’ve stolen the dummy?”
She could guess at the motives Eli may have listed for the officer—jealousy, sabotage—but she knew Phillip better, or at least she thought she did. He wasn’t the kind of man who would steal anything from another person.
“I can’t begin to imagine,” she said, trying to maintain her confidence in her friend. “If you knew Phillip, you wouldn’t suspect...” She let her words trail away, suddenly feeling unsure of herself.
“I’m sorry, Kate,” the officer said. “I know you care about your friend, but this is pretty incriminating. I’ll need to talk with him and set this thing straight. Do you know where he is?”
“Probably at his store,” she said, offering a sad smile.
The sheriff tucked a pen into his shirt pocket along with his notepad, then he said to Eli, “I’m going to ask around and see if your neighbors saw anything.” He turned to Kate. “I’ll stop by Phillip’s store afterward to talk with him.”
Kate paused, hoping for a word with Eli, but he turned away. She decided not to press her luck.
KATE ARRIVED AT LOVING’S ANTIQUES just a few minutes later. He was nowhere to be found. She called for him, with no reply, as she made her way to the back of the store. Where was he? It crossed her mind that he might not be there, that he might be hiding the mannequin.
She lifted her voice and called, “Phillip!” She couldn’t help the frantic tone that accompanied it.
Finally she opened the door to the basement and saw that the light was on. She made her way down the narrow, rag rug carpeted steps to the cobweb-infested storage space. Phillip was there, though he must not have heard her because he didn’t turn to acknowledge her presence.
She paused on the staircase, suddenly not wanting to disturb him yet not able to pull herself from the sight that met her eyes. His back was to the staircase. Along the wall in front of him were Ginny’s stained-glass windows, in a variety of shapes and sizes.
He lightly touched one, then the next. Kate heard his sigh. Ginny had worked so hard on them, each one a reflection of the person Kate had come to cherish. Ginny had been a gifted artist, with an innate sense of color and texture and flow. Her windows weren’t rote copies of traditional designs; they were organic and heartfelt.
Kate coughed, and Phillip turned toward her in surprise. He wiped tears from his cheeks, then turned back around.
“I’m sorry,” she said to his back. “I didn’t mean to disturb you, but something has happened...”
Phillip lifted his head. It was clear that he was embarrassed to be caught grieving. He wiped the tears from his face and turned once more, concern in the lines of his brow. “What’s happened?”
“There was a theft at Eli’s store. The sheriff wants to talk to you.”
“To me?” He stood. “Why?”
“They have reason to think you might’ve been involved.” She studied his face as it twisted in confusion. His expression gave nothing away.
“Involved? They think I stole something?” He climbed the stairs, and Kate moved aside so he could pass. She followed him to the main floor and looked through the maze of antiques toward the front of the store.
She opened her mouth to speak as she glanced out the big plate-glass window. She could see Sheriff Roberts making his way along the sidewalk to Phillip’s front door. Her heart kicked into high gear when she realized Phillip could well be arrested. But before she had a chance to say anything else, the sheriff came inside. Phillip moved past Kate to talk to him.
“What’s this about a theft at Weston’s?” Phillip glanced from the officer to Kate.
“Someone took the mannequin right out of the front window,” the sheriff confirmed.
Kate could see that he was studying Phillip much as she had just a few moments before, watching his demeanor for any clue to his innocence or guilt.
“Kate said there was some connection to me?” Phillip certainly didn’t seem afraid to face the issue head-on.
“Is this yours?” Sheriff Roberts held the watch out to Phillip, encased in its plastic bag. Phillip squinted as he took it.
“Where did you find this?” he said, turning the watch over in his hands, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion. He turned to Kate. “I lost this at the Bristol on Monday night.”
He had? He hadn’t mentioned it to her. If he’d lost the watch at the Bristol, wouldn’t he have called her that night or the next day at least to ask her if she’d seen it? Kate’s doubts grew.
“Where were you this morning around eight o’clock?” the sheriff asked.
“Here at the store.” Phillip turned to Kate, his expression turning to fear.
“You didn’t happen to go to Weston’s Antiques overnight?” the sheriff added.
“Your watch was found in the same spot where the mannequin had stood,” Kate offered in a low voice.
“What in the world—?” Phillip said.
“I have to take you in for questioning while we search your residence and the store,” Roberts said.
“You’re arresting me?”
“For suspicion of burglary.”
Chapter Eight
Phillip cast a panicked look at Kate. “I was at home all last night and
here this morning,” he insisted. “You saw me downstairs with Ginny’s windows.”
The only problem was that no one had been there to corroborate his story.
“I’ll follow in my car,” she promised, feeling horrible as Sheriff Roberts led him to the SUV outside.
The officer opened the rear door and placed a hand on Phillip’s shoulder as he guided him inside. Phillip looked pitiful sitting there alone.
“I just need to question him, Kate,” the sheriff said.
“I thought that’s what you were doing already.”
“Well...,” he paused, conceding her point with a nod, “if that watch hadn’t been there...I have to do my job.”
“I understand,” Kate said.
Sheriff Roberts tipped his cap to her, then walked around the SUV and climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life, and the sheriff headed down the street toward the city jail.
Kate pulled her cell phone from her purse to inform Paul of what was happening.
“They arrested him?” Paul said, sounding as dumbfounded as Kate felt.
“His watch was found at Eli’s,” she said. “How would that have gotten there?”
Silence filled the line. “I don’t know,” Paul finally admitted. “There has to be a good reason.”
Kate hoped he was right.
When she got to the town hall, Phillip was being fingerprinted.
“I can’t believe this,” he whispered when Kate and Paul were finally brought in to his jail cell after Sheriff Roberts was done questioning him. Phillip sat on the cot that lined one wall of the small cell. “They’re searching the store and my house.” He sighed, and Kate could sense that he was doing all he could not to break down.
“I’m sorry this is happening to you,” Kate said, laying a hand on his shoulder.
He placed his face in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. Finally he lifted his head and blew out a long breath.
“Phillip,” Kate began, “why didn’t you call and ask if we’d seen your watch the day after we went to the Bristol?”
He shrugged. “Because I knew where I left it. I’d taken it off to wash my hands when I was in the bathroom. I remember leaving it on the counter. I didn’t need to call you to figure out where it was, though I did phone the restaurant the next day.”
“And what did they say?” Paul asked.
“No one had seen it.”
Deputy Spencer came into the room and stood outside the stark jail cell. “We’re letting you go,” he said to Phillip, whose face went slack.
“Letting me go?” Phillip seemed utterly surprised.
“The manager at the Bristol confirmed your story,” Skip said as he unlocked the cell. “But you are still our lead suspect. You need to stick close to Copper Mill these next few weeks.”
AS PHILLIP STARED OUT the Honda’s front window on the short drive to the antiques store, Kate tried to reconcile how his watch could have ended up at Weston’s without him.
Phillip turned to Kate. She could see the defeat in his eyes. “You don’t think I would do something like this, do you? There has to be a logical explanation for why my watch was there.”
“Do you have any theories?” she asked.
“Maybe whoever took the mannequin is connected to its past. Maybe the person who stole it knows why it was left in the mine,” he offered.
Kate watched the road ahead as the early afternoon sunshine sent waves of warmth across it.
“That does make sense,” she admitted.
“Let me help you, Kate,” Phillip went on, “to clear the Hanlon name as well as my own.”
“I can use all the help I can get,” she said, although she felt a twinge of hesitation. If Phillip had stolen the manne-quin, he wouldn’t exactly be without motive in steering the investigation, yet she knew her longtime friend. He had to be innocent.
AFTER KATE AND PAUL arrived home, Kate pulled together a late lunch of ham sandwiches and green beans that now steamed between them at the oak table in their dining area.
“I’ve been thinking...,” Kate said as she lifted her glass of iced tea and took a sip. “About the mannequin.”
“And?” Paul took a bite of his sandwich.
“Do you think your cousin Gladys would know anything about it?”
Paul’s cousin lived about an hour away, near the rural home where Paul had grown up. Many years older than Paul, Gladys doted on her younger cousin, and whenever they visited, she treated Kate like her own daughter.
“That’s possible,” he admitted. “And we haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Let’s call her and see if she’s up for a visit later this afternoon.”
GLADYS WAS ONE of the kindest souls Kate had ever met. Since the death of her dear husband many years before, she’d taken to volunteering at the local food bank and inviting those in need to her table. She loved to cook and laugh, which were evident in her thick waistline and the deep crow’s-feet around her blue eyes.
Kate hugged Gladys when she opened the front door of her old brick house. Vines climbed its exterior, and a lush fern planted in an old washtub sat alongside the squeaky screen door.
“Oh, Kate!” she said, “I’m so glad you’re here.” Then she reached for Paul, wrapping her arms around him and sniffling. When they pulled apart, Kate saw a shimmer of moisture in the older woman’s eyes.
“Have you lost weight?” Gladys asked Paul in a teasing tone.
Paul laughed. “Are you kidding? I’ve probably put on a few.”
Gladys turned to Kate, her eyebrow raised. “I don’t believe that!” She had a sincere smile and dimples in her wrinkled round cheeks. “He’s so skinny, Katie! You really need to fatten him up.”
Kate laughed, and Gladys waved them into her darkened house. The curtains were drawn against the late-afternoon sun but the aroma of cinnamon and lemons drew them inside.
“I’m sorry we didn’t give you much warning,” Kate said.
She’d called as soon as she and Paul had finished their late lunch, asking if they could pay her a visit, and Gladys hadn’t hesitated to say yes.
“You’re welcome to come whenever you get the opportunity,” she said as she led the way through her quaint yet slightly cluttered house.
Paul and Kate followed Gladys into the kitchen, where several calico and tiger-striped cats gazed at them curiously. The counters were red Formica, the cupboards painted gray. A large butcher’s-block island stood at the center of the room. Red-and-gray-checked tiles gave the room a 1950s feel, which was apparently the last time the room had been decorated. The aroma of iced tea with lemons hung in the air.
Gladys poured them each a large glass without asking if they wanted any, then she filled a glass for herself. They moved into the comfortable living room and settled into the love seat and chairs near the window. The back field was overgrown with tall grass that poked through the distant fence line.
The house hadn’t changed since Paul first brought Kate home to meet Gladys and her family. Not even a stick of furniture had moved out from its assigned spot. Kate took a long sip of tea.
“Have you been keeping busy with your stained glass?” Gladys asked as she savored her tea.
“Here and there,” Kate said. “I’ve been helping a friend open an antiques store in town, so that’s eaten into my time a little. How about you? Are you in your garden already?”
“I’ve been in the garden since March,” Gladys admitted with a grin. “My potatoes are already looking good.”
Kate glanced at Gladys’ hands and noted the short cropped nails that held a bit of dirt. It was one of the hazards of spending a great deal of time gardening.
There was a long silence as they each enjoyed their tea. Gladys’ large orange tabby meandered into the room, coming to rub against Paul’s legs, then Kate’s.
“Paul and I have been talking about the old Hanlon boutique in Copper Mill,” Kate ventured. “Do you remember it at all?”
“Not
well...though I do remember some things. It was on Smith Street; I remember that. And those mannequins. I recall being terrified of them as a child.”
“The mannequins?” Kate sat forward as her pulse quickened. “There was more than one?”
Gladys nodded. “Oh yes. Grandpa Horace carved them himself.”
“He did?” Paul said.
“Yes, indeed. He was an expert at woodworking. He knew how to work with his hands, even if he did own a clothing store. He took a lot of pride in that. Why are you wondering about this now?”
Kate and Paul exchanged a look, then Paul began, telling his cousin about Eli finding a mannequin with “Hanlon’s Boutique” engraved on its foot.
“It was in a copper mine?” Gladys sat back, clearly puzzled by the revelation. “How in the world would it have gotten there?”
“We were hoping you might have an idea,” Kate said.
“I have no clue,” she admitted as the cat jumped up onto her lap. She began to stroke its long fur.
“There was also a bullet found in its upper arm,” Paul added. “It was from a Colt .380.”
Gladys scratched her head as her brow furrowed. “Boy,” she said, “that sure doesn’t ring any bells.”
Kate told Gladys about the money they’d found in the mannequin’s torso, head, and legs, and about the recent theft of the wooden lady from her place in Eli Weston’s storefront window.
Gladys shook her head, then sat back as if she’d just read the obituary of a friend she couldn’t quite recall.
“Well, I’ll be...,” she finally said.
“So Horace himself would’ve carved the compartments where the money was stashed,” Kate observed.
Gladys didn’t answer, though Kate could see by the troubled expression on her face that she wasn’t comfortable with the conclusion.
“Did anyone ever mention one of the mannequins being shot?” Kate asked.
“Or filled with money?” Gladys added, a wry smile on her old face. She shook her head. “No to both.” She lifted her round cheeks as she calculated. “I do remember some of the stories about him that Dad and Grandma used to tell,” she went on as she scratched the huge orange cat between the ears. The animal leaned into her hand gratefully.