Pendants and Paws

by Penny Brooke

  Sylvia rolled her eyes, untied her gingham apron, and scooted out the door with her sweater and her handbag, stroking back her hair in her hurry to get going.

  As promised, I mixed pie fillings, made more cookies and bars, and decided to make cream puffs for a treat. I knew our guests would be hungry. The weather report called for a hard freeze overnight, so the next day would boost their appetites. I’d hoped to sneak in a short nap, but the front door whooshed open and then was slammed shut. I hurried into the foyer to see what was up.

  “It’s gone!” Sylvia exclaimed, her heart over her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. “Oh, there’s the awfullest fuss going on down there.”

  “What’s gone?”

  “That pendant necklace, The Stolen Heart. The guard closed everything down for a half an hour to have lunch, and when he re-opened, the little nest where it sat was empty! I think Henry Lowden is going to have a heart attack. He’s pacing round and round, his face white. They called in the State Police. Peter was there, and he didn’t look any too happy.”

  “Oh, dear. He was afraid of something like that. He even said he’d had some intuition that something would happen. I feel so bad for him.”

  “Well, surely it’s insured, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose so, but still, it’s a major threat and no credit to the security here in Tempest. Wait until everyone gets in tonight. There will be no lack of gossip.”

  Sylvia took off her sweater and got busy in the kitchen, putting on the finishing touches. The festival was scheduled to close down at six in the evening, so I knew our guests wouldn’t be very long—and they would definitely be hungry.

  The lovely jewel was on my mind. I felt awful for Peter and poor Mr. Lowden. I wondered where Marlena was—if she’d still been with him.

  I texted Peter to come for dinner if he’d like, but he answered right away and said he couldn’t, that there was too much going on.

  I heard the front door open and the cluster of voices raised in pitch as everyone speculated about the robbery.

  I let them get washed up and fill their plates before I asked any questions. “Did any of you see anything?”

  They shook their heads. Elliott spoke up. “I think the sheriff jumped to conclusions.”

  “What about?”

  “Don’t you notice that Marlena isn’t with us? The sheriff arrested her for suspicion and put her in the jail. He claimed it was for her protection until he could gather more facts to prove her innocence, but she’s there all the same. If you think she was mad last time, just wait until you hear about it this time.”

  “Do you think she did it?”

  There wasn’t a sound in the room. I knew they’d hang together. No one would say it, but I could tell they all believed she had. “Does she have an alibi?”

  Elmer answered. “We didn’t see her yet. She was with that jewelry guy and didn’t come help at the carnival. We’re all kind of sore at her. Even if she didn’t have her crystal ball, she should have come and helped out at one of the refreshment booths or something.”

  Others nodded, and then there was an undertone of disappointed and even angry voices.

  “I’m sorry for all you that this happened,” I told them, passing the basket of dinner rolls again. “This puts a bad light on your group.”

  Minnie and Linnie spoke up, like two birds squawking for their mother to bring worms. “Why do people always blame us for things? We’re no different than they are.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Elliott said. “Of course, we are, and I’m glad for it. Otherwise, I’d have no way to earn a living.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I felt sorry for the lot of them. It wouldn’t be any fun to think that the only reason you could make enough money to eat was because you were strange to look at. It gave me a new respect for each of them.

  “Well, relax and enjoy dinner,” I said. “I’ll phone Peter later on and see if there’s any news.”

  Elliott shook his head. “We have to hit the hay. Tomorrow is supposed to be cold, and it’s murder standing out there in that wind from the water. It’s nice that you want to help, but we’re used to being treated this way. Better if you stay out of it.”

  My mouth snapped shut. I’d never considered that they didn’t want me to offer any help. I understood that they were likely embarrassed and wanted to save face. I hoped that Marlena hadn’t done it. That could put an end to their crew.

  The biggest thing I couldn’t figure out was how it had been accomplished. I’d seen the security and the armed driver. I knew Peter had looked it all over before he accepted responsibility for it.

  I took a hot bath and went to bed early, surrounded by all three of my pets. It would be an interesting day, and I needed all the sleep I could get.

  7

  Carnival Lies

  I thrashed in bed that night. It was obvious I had more insight into what had happened than anyone, possibly in the world. After all, I had the crystal ball.

  It was a curse, a dilemma, and I knew if anyone, even Peter, found out, I may as well pack my bag and go into the Witness Protection Program. Such immense power was not to be taken lightly.

  At one in the morning, I pushed my feet into my lavender slippers and sat by the window, Sherlock in my arms. He thought it was time to play and fought to get down and retrieve his toys. I refused to throw them, so he finally gave up and went to lie in his kennel bed. As if by election, Lizzie Borden was next. She licked my leg and stared up at me with those huge brown eyes. I shook my head, and she laid down next to my chair with a disappointed sigh. Etta was next, mewing as she wound her way in and out of my legs. I picked her up, gave her a pet, and sat her back down. “It’s no good, kids. Mom has some heavy thinking to do, and there’s no telling how long this could go on. In the meantime, it’s better if you just let me be.”

  As if by agreement, each one of them got up and returned to their own beds, leaving me with my moral dilemma.

  If I were to suddenly proclaim that I knew who’d done it, the first suspicious eyes would be cast at me. Then came the problem of furnishing proof. “Come home with me,” I would tell the jury. “I’ll touch my crystal ball, and you’ll see the whole story unfold before you.” I could just imagine their laughter, followed by the fact that I’d probably be prosecuted as a witch and burned at the stake. No, that wasn’t the way to go.

  Then there was the whole question of the law. Every person was entitled to be innocent until proven guilty. We all knew the system sometimes failed—that an innocent person was sent to jail, or worse. Should I take the risk of proving one innocence by an unholy means and deny those who were being prosecuted and serving time for far worse crimes?

  It was chilly in the room, and I pulled the crocheted yellow afghan from the back of my chair and spread it over my lap. It felt cuddly and soothed my nerves.

  What would Peter say? Would he roll his eyes and tell me to go away? Would he be embarrassed? I mean, it wasn’t as if there was a life at stake. I knew that Marlena had probably more than earned some time in the klink—but a jewel of that size had to be very valuable. It was more likely that she’d go to prison, and for a long time. Could I conscionably stand by and let that happen?

  With a huge sigh, I pushed away the afghan, pulled on a pair of sweats and my sneakers. “You guys stay here,” I told the kids, but they were all three snoring and not the least bit interested. I picked up a flashlight, hoping not to alert anyone to my movements or that I was in the store that late at night. I didn’t need any spectators.

  I slipped quietly as my shoes would allow down the staircase and through the halls until I reached the door to the store. I let myself in and retrieved the bag from the safe. I stayed in the back where its glow wouldn’t show through the front plate-glass windows.

  My hands shook as I placed it on top of a packing crate, laying my flashlight next to it. The flashlight rolled and hit the floor, breaking something because it wouldn’t come back on. “Great!�
�� I said to myself.

  I wiped my palms on my pants and placed both hands on the crystal ball. “Show me who took The Stolen Heart,” I told it in a solemn voice. The stuff inside began again to swirl, and I leaned closer, searching for the image to form. It swirled and swirled, but even after fifteen minutes, there was no image. “Oh, great. A really big request, and you won’t follow through.” Just then, the image began to form, and I peered closely, only to recognize my own bed. I jerked back, puzzled. Then I realized it was telling me to go back to bed. “Oh, gawd,” I muttered as I heard the mantle clock chime four. “The darn thing has a mind of its own!”

  I polished it with a small cloth and then placed it back in its bag and into the safe. Making my way back into the house by touch, I was fine—only knocking a small vase to the floor with a crash. I was paying for my sins in trying to be God.

  When I finally crawled beneath the covers, I thought I could sleep. It was an awesome responsibility to see the world and know everything there was to know. I wasn’t sure I was quite ready for all that power, and so my conscience let me fall asleep. An hour later, the sun was beginning to cast pinks and blues on the clouds, but I ignored it and turned my back to the window. Even the all-powerful have to sleep.

  8

  Citizen’s Arrest

  When I finally struggled into the world that next morning, I’d resolved to keep whatever I knew to myself. For whatever reason, the globe had refused to cooperate, and I took that as a sign.

  The crew had left long before, and Gretchen was taking her turn manning the booth. I sat in the kitchen with Sylvia, sharing coffee and the last of her cinnamon rolls, discussing the festival and, of course, the robbery.

  “Do you think she did it?” she asked.

  “I assume you’re referring to Marlena?”

  “Who else?”

  “I don’t know. She’s the obvious choice, certainly, but that’s what makes it unlikely. I think they’re only holding her for questioning at this point. She would be a flight risk, obviously, as she has no home, no roots, and no family other than her co-workers.”

  Sylvia put her hand over mine. “I’m glad I have someplace to belong, thanks to you.”

  “Oh, now, don’t make me tear up. None of us can do it alone. We’re just an odd collection of misplaced creatures. Aren’t we, Etta?” I looked down to my cat, who was winding in and out of the table legs waiting to be fed.

  Sylvia read the signs, too. “I’ll get her,” she offered and slipped off her stool to fill Etta’s bowl.

  “Good morning.”

  I looked up to see Fred standing in the doorway. “Well, look what the cat literally dragged in.”

  “Yeah, I know, been a rough few days. You wouldn’t believe what this place sounds like when a man is a little hungover and trying to get some sleep.”

  “Maybe that man should skip a bottle or two and join in?”

  “Nah, they’d never hire me as a magician. I asked.”

  “No tricks in you, huh?”

  “Not the kind they’re wanting.”

  “So, what can we do you for, Fred?”

  “I was hoping for some java and whatever that is you’re finger-licking off your plate.”

  “Sylvia’s cinnamon rolls.”

  “Oh, I could go for a few of those.”

  “Sure. Help yourself, though. I have to finish dressing and get downtown, and Sylvia is currently serving Henrietta.”

  “A man sure does fall low on the totem pole once he retires.”

  “Actually, Fred, I think you’ve slept, or whatever, right through it, but your kind of job may have just come available.”

  He took a mug from the cupboard and filled it from the pot. “You don’t say.”

  “Ever hear of The Stolen Heart?”

  “I’m guessing you’re referring to that gawd-awfully huge ruby the Maharajah of Valkha bought for the Spanish princess he loved but couldn’t have?”

  My mouth fell open. “Sylvia, you see what I mean? This man is a walking encyclopedia.”

  Fred snorted. “Give the coffee a few minutes to sink in, and I might be able to remember the whole story. Why are you asking?”

  “The necklace was available on loan for display and Henry Lowden, who has a jewelry store downtown, brought it to town for the festival. I saw it. It’s beautiful. Has its own security vehicle.”

  “Yeah, I heard there was a traveling exhibit. Didn’t know it was in town. Might walk down a little later and have a look at it.”

  “You can’t. The Stolen Heart was stolen. One of our guests from the carnival bunch, Marlena, is being held for questioning.”

  “Why her? But yeah, she’d be a flight risk if she did it.”

  “I’m guessing because she drinks too much and got rowdy that night she got here. They just see her as a bad egg who is passing through.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I’m guessing you won’t mind if I poke around a little?”

  “Not at all—not my business except that she’s a guest here, and I’m not happy for the negative publicity.”

  Fred emptied his mug, stole another cinnamon roll from the plate, and gave me a thumbs-up. “I’ll see what I can do.” He walked out of the kitchen. “Hey, Fiona?” he called to me.

  I met him in the foyer. In a low voice, he asked, “Do any of them know about you? You know… your being able to see things?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so, except for maybe Marlena. She seems to be very defensive over the crystal ball I bought from her to pay for her to get out of jail. It’s possible she’s been talking to someone who does.”

  We nodded and said simultaneously, “Bernette Tyson.”

  As it happened, I got ready quickly, and Fred waited for me. It was my turn to take over at the booth and relieve Gretchen. As the booth came into sight, Fred gave me a quarter-wave and disappeared into Hardee’s Bar. Well, so much for investigating now, I thought to myself.

  “I wondered if you were ever going to show up.” Gretchen was giving me that exaggerated look of misery she was so good at. It had won her a number of diamond rings and cars in her marriage pasts, so she was well-practiced.

  “Lose the look—I’m not a guy, and I’ve seen it too many times to be affected.” Her expression normalized, and she pouted. “Sorry I’m late,” I continued. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “I don’t wonder. I haven’t been able to sleep there at all since Barnum & Bailey’s moved in.”

  “Oh, they’re a nice bunch, just a little rowdy. They’ll be gone soon. How have things been selling?”

  “Good. We landed office business with the doughnuts and Danish early this morning, but things have slowed down now that it’s lunchtime, and the smell of hotdogs and caramelized onion rings have taken over the midway.”

  “I’ll bet. They smell good to me, and I just had breakfast.”

  “The last of the cinnamon rolls gone?” Gretchen’s face was hopeful.

  “Sorry, Fred finished them off.”

  “Darn. I’ll finish off Fred if he doesn’t begin to pitch in a little.”

  “He pays rent, Gretchen. If he helps me out, it’s only as a favor. He’s not obligated.”

  That seemed to settle things in her mind as Gretchen was living off Mortimer House earnings and room and board. “Okay, my bad. Well, I guess maybe I can find the makings of a salad or something. Do you know what Sylvia has planned for dinner?”

  I shook my head and accepted the dollar a man with a topcoat handed me for a bagged oatmeal cookie. “Well, I can see you’re busy. I’ll see you later.” Gretchen turned around to leave when suddenly, the man in the topcoat came careening back in our direction, his hands pressing into his chest as he ran. I could see one of Peter’s deputies, Larry, giving chase, but he was held up by the throng of tourists.

  “Gretchen! Watch out!” She leaped backward into the booth, and I stepped forward and stuck my foot out neatly. I really didn’t know what possessed me to do it—I was su
rprised at myself. “Oops!” I exclaimed as the man went face down onto the pavement. Passersby stopped and formed a ring around him. Larry finally caught up, slightly breathless, and in one smooth motion, landed on the man’s back, pulled his arms back, and snapped on handcuffs. “Larry, I’m impressed,” I admired.

  “First place in roping cattle at the county fair,” he explained, and I nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. He stood the man up onto his feet, and after speaking into his shoulder-mounted two-way, he dragged him to one side until Peter pulled up in his sheriff’s cruiser. Peter acknowledged me with a nod and helped Larry wrestle the suspect into the back seat with Larry as his guard. As they did, the man’s coat opened on one side, and I got a glimpse of all kinds of jewelry, knives and I don’t know what else secured in elastic loops on the inside of the flap. He was apparently a pickpocket and had been spotted by Larry. I felt sort of proud of myself for intervening so he couldn’t get away. The squad car pulled away, and the buzz began.

  “I’ll bet that’s who stole the pendant necklace,” commented one red-faced woman in a loud voice. Like birds, the speculation traveled down the road, and for the rest of the afternoon, visitors would give me a thumbs-up as they passed our booth. I guessed it was my tripping the suspect that had gotten around. I got my reward, though, because I sold out the rest of our inventory in under an hour and went straight home to bake more for the third—and final—day of the festival.

  9

  It’s All in the Perspective

  “It’s the last day. Let’s really have an extra load of inventory,” I suggested as Gretchen, Sylvia, and I were up to our elbows in flour and cinnamon.

  “Smells good in here.” Elliott was standing in the kitchen doorway.

  “Dinner in an hour, Elliott,” I told him.

  “No, I know. Actually, there was something else I needed to talk to you about.”