by Kathi Daley
I shook my head. “No, not really. Ben didn’t usually discuss his current cases with me. He would sometimes share information relating to the cold cases he was working on in his spare time, but he was pretty tight-lipped about the details of the open investigations. I remember him briefly mentioning this one case involving a man named Thurston Winston. Winston was a college student from the wealthy part of San Francisco who was home on spring break. He was shot at a club in the seedy part of town, which created quite the stir because no one could figure out what this trust-fund baby was doing there.”
“I didn’t notice a file for this case.”
“I doubt there would be one. Like I said, Ben normally only brought home copies of files that had been closed and filed away. Files he never told anyone he had. Files that no one would even care that he had if they did know.”
Colt speared a piece of lettuce. “I wonder if whatever pulled Ben into this IA investigation was something he initially found in one of the cold case files.”
I wrinkled my nose. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure exactly. I guess it occurred to me that if Ben was most likely to bring home cold case files, maybe something in one of them pointed him to something that was going on in an active case. Perhaps if bribes were being accepted by certain dirty cops, that wasn’t a new situation. Maybe bribes have been part of everyday police life in certain circles for decades and Ben found something in a cold case that alerted him to something a lot more current.”
“If that was so and Ben did find something, why was he involved in the IA investigation? It seems if he was the whistle blower, he wouldn’t be one of the cops who found themselves under the gun.”
“Maybe he didn’t blow the whistle. Maybe he went straight to the source and confronted whoever he identified as being involved and, as a result, got pulled into the whole thing.” Colt ran a hand though his hair. “I really can’t say for certain how any of this ties together. Maybe it doesn’t. It is possible that the file Ribaldie was looking for had nothing at all to do with the IA investigation.”
“So what should we do?” I asked. “Should we just drop it?”
“Maybe. Let’s finish going through the files and decide then.”
By the end of the evening, Colt and I had identified three files that looked like they might be relevant. The one pertaining to Jessica Thurston was active, not a cold case as of the time Ben had copied it. That made it stand out as unique from his usual MO. There was also a case involving a drive-by shooting and the subsequent death of a high-profile gang member, which Frank Ribaldie had been investigating, along with his partner, Gray Denver. That case had been closed after only a brief investigation, despite the fact that, as far as we could tell, no arrest had ever been made.
And finally, we thought that further investigation was warranted into a cold case involving a street cop who was killed in the line of duty twelve years before. The cop, whose throat had been slit, was left in an alley to die. The murder had taken place during daylight hours, although the investigating officer couldn’t find a single witness who would admit to seeing what had gone down. While lack of a witness was common in that particular part of town, the really odd thing was that while the cop was on duty and should have been patrolling his area, his body was found clear across the city in an alley in which he had no business being.
“So what now?” I asked.
Colt sighed. “Maybe nothing. I’m going to poke around a bit, but the last thing I want to do is attract anyone’s attention. I’ll need to be careful and look into things slowly. I guess for now we’ve done what we can. If anyone from Ben’s life, especially his work life, contacts you for any reason, let me know immediately. Don’t respond to any emails from Ben’s work buddies, should you receive them, without speaking to me first.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I am ready to put that part of my life behind me. Worrying about what Ben may or may not have gotten involved in is going to make me nuts, yet I can’t quite set it aside either.”
“If I were you, I’d try to let it go for now. If I find something I think you need to know, I’ll bring you into the loop. Until then, it seems to me that you have enough on your hands.”
I smiled. “As do you. How is the home purchase going?”
“Very smoothly. The house should be mine in another couple of weeks. Once it is, I am going to start the remodel right away. I want to have the place ready and furnished before the kids are out of school for the summer. I’m going to look into hiring daycare and having them with me for as much of their school break as possible.”
“That’ll be nice for your parents. I know you said they hoped to go on a few trips this year.”
Colt nodded. “They do like to travel, and I want to be sure they have the opportunity to do so. I guess you’ll be busy opening the inn this summer.”
“That’s the plan. Did you ever get the warrant you needed to open the safety-deposit box left to Natalie Norris?”
“Not yet, but I think I will get it. I’m hoping to hear in the next day or two. In the meantime, I’m keeping my eyes and ears open in the hope that something comes my way.”
Chapter 16
Things settled into a routine over the course of the following week. I heard back from the historian, who’d determined that the family who’d owned The Yellow Dog at the time it was torn down was a young couple with five children, four sons and one daughter named Beatrice. The children, aged four to eighteen, lived with their parents, Joseph and Lorraine Walker, in an old carriage house located on the same piece of land as the inn that had been converted into a house. The older children, including the seventeen-year-old daughter, worked with their parents. The historian thought the necklace could have belonged to Beatrice, or even her mother, but she also said the piece would have been extremely valuable, even in the 1890s, so she doubted it was owned by either an innkeeper’s wife or child. I asked her what she meant by valuable, and she told me that in today’s market it would most likely go for six figures. When I heard that, I agreed it was unlikely to have been the jewelry of either woman.
My writing over the past week had gone well. I was able to complete an additional three chapters and continued to be very happy with the direction the story was taking. I’d been putting in a lot of hours on it and hadn’t done much else, though I was aware that, while Colt had done a bit of digging into the three cases we’d picked out of the pile of files Ben had copied and brought home, he hadn’t found anything that seemed particularly relevant.
As for the current murder case he was working, I knew he was continuing to narrow things down. I didn’t know whether he had found out anything new, but we’d been invited to Tanner Peyton’s place for a cookout this afternoon and I’d heard that Colt would be there. I figured I’d just ask him about it then.
“Wow, you look nice,” I said to Georgia when I entered the main living area of the little cottage from my room.
“Thank you. It is a nice and springy sort of day, so I thought I’d dress the part.”
Georgia was wearing a sunny yellow dress with a scoop neckline and short sleeves. She had on a lightweight sweater over it, which didn’t detract at all from her glowing appearance. Her long blond hair was pulled back from her face and she had white sandals on her feet, which showed off her manicured toes. I, on the other hand, had chosen jeans, a long-sleeved blouse, and tennis shoes. Suddenly, I felt wildly underdressed. Of course, we were attending a cookout, so jeans and tennis shoes were probably a lot more appropriate than a short dress and sandals. Still, I felt a bit like the ugly stepsister compared to my cute roommate.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked her, as she put the finishing touches on a fruit salad.
“You can load the salads in the car. I have potato, fruit, pasta, and green.”
“I take it Tanner invited other guests?”
Georgia nodded. “Lonnie and his family, and Nikki invited a couple of people she knows. I think Tanner mentioned invi
ting a couple of his trainers too. He told me to plan for around thirty when I was trying to determine quantity. I went with four salads rather than one huge one to provide variety. Colt is bringing beer and soda and Lonnie and Lacy are bringing baked beans. Tanner is providing the meat, and I think one of Nikki’s new friends is bringing the dessert.”
I opened the refrigerator and began taking out the salads. “Have you met these new friends of Nikki’s?”
“Just one. His name is Jack. Nikki seems to really like him. He’s an auto mechanic.”
“Is Jack a friend-friend or a boyfriend?” I wondered.
Georgia paused. “I’m not sure. When she told me about him, she made it sound as if he was just a friend, but as she continued to talk about him, it sort of seemed like she might be interested in him beyond mere friendship. I guess we will be able to figure it out if he becomes a boyfriend. Grab that carton of whipping cream while you are in there.”
“Are you bringing Ramos?”
Georgia nodded. “Tanner has a new dog in training. He is a very smart pup, but he lacks socialization, so Tanner is trying to introduce him to as many dogs as he can. Ramos is a big teddy bear who gets along with everyone, so Tanner said to bring him this afternoon so the dogs can hang out.”
“Doesn’t Tanner have a lot of dogs he can use to socialize the pup?”
“Not right now,” Georgia answered “He’s placed all the dogs he had and isn’t expecting a new batch to arrive until the end of April. Given the fact that this one pup needs a lot of attention, the fact that he’s the only one Tanner has now might not be a bad thing.” Georgia covered the fruit salad she had been working on with plastic wrap. “I’m going to wash my hands and grab my purse and then we can go.”
I always enjoyed the cookouts and dinners Georgia and I were invited to. I was anxious to have a place large enough to accommodate guests so we could reciprocate. The cottage was much too small for more than two guests at a time and the outdoors were still very much a work in progress. But it wouldn’t be long before the first floor of the house was outfitted and ready for entertaining. It would be harder to have friends over once we opened the inn, but until then, I planned to host several private dinner parties.
“Abby, I’m so glad you came.” Nikki hugged me the moment I walked in the front door. “I want to introduce you to my friend, Jack. He is a huge fan of your work.”
I raised a brow. “Your friend is a fan of my work?” My target audience had always been young women for my romances and older men and women for my mysteries. A twentyish male didn’t fit the bill at all.
“Jack loves to read. He told me that he first found you at a book club he attended a few years ago and has read a lot of your books since then.” Nikki took my hand. “Come on. He’ll be thrilled to finally meet you.”
As it turned out, Jack wasn’t a twentyish male at all; he looked to be closer to forty. He was very good-looking in a bad-boy, biker sort of way and seemed to me to be much too old to be friends with Nikki, at least friends of the intimate sort. Of course, maybe he really was just a friend-friend, not a boyfriend.
I stuck out my hand. “I’m happy to meet you.”
Jack took it, turned it so it was palm up, and kissed my wrist. “The pleasure is mine. When Nikki told me she was friends with the Abagail Sullivan, I knew we had to meet.”
Generally, I was flattered when people added the word the before my name, as if I was some sort of huge celebrity, but for some reason Jack with his penetrating blue eyes and totally unexpected kiss had me feeling off-kilter. I quickly scanned the room, saw Lonnie chatting with Tanner and a man I didn’t recognize, and sped off in that direction.
“Oh good, you’re here.” Lonnie hugged me in greeting.
“It seems as if everyone is happy to see me today.”
Lonnie frowned briefly, but then smiled and turned to the man beside him. “This is Riley Wood. He is an archaeologist and treasure hunter, so he knows a lot about history and historical relics, especially valuable relics that are considered to be unaccounted for or missing.”
I held out my hand. “Abby Sullivan. Happy to meet you.”
Lonnie continued. “I showed Riley a photo of the necklace and note, and he seems to think that there may be more to them than we already know. In fact, he thinks the necklace could be an important find.”
I raised a brow and looked at the rugged yet handsome man standing next to me. “Do you recognize it?”
“I would have to examine the actual piece, but based on the photo Lonnie showed me, it might be a necklace that was once owned by Charlotte Torrington but hasn’t been seen since the eighteenth century.”
“And who was Charlotte Torrington?” I asked.
“The eldest daughter of an English earl. She was a beautiful young woman who was known for being both fearless and intelligent. When she was sixteen, she was promised to a duke who was looking for a young wife to bear his sons. It was said that Charlotte was not at all happy about marrying this much-older friend of her father, but in those days, young women of aristocratic blood did what their fathers told them to do.” Riley pulled a single sheet of paper from his pocket. “After Lonnie sent me the photo of the necklace, I did some research. This is a copy of a photo of an oil painting that was part of a series done in 1772 at a gathering to announce the engagement of one of the count’s nephews.”
I looked at the photo, which, as Riley had said, was actually a copy of a photo of an oil painting. The men and women in the photo were dressed to impress and most looked to have been the product of impeccable grooming. Charlotte wore a long dress tight in the bodice with a full skirt. The dress was blue, which perfectly accentuated her piercing blue eyes. Her hair was dark and piled expertly atop her head, and her neckline plunged toward creamy white breasts showing off the necklace, which did look an awful lot like the one we’d found.
“Who is the man Charlotte is standing next to?”
“He is the duke her father hoped to marry Charlotte to.”
I looked at the photo again. The woman was beautiful but young, with a look of innocence in her shy smile. “She looks so young and he looks so old. She must have been terrified.”
“I don’t know if she was terrified, but from what I can find, she wasn’t happy. She went along with her father for a while, but when Charlotte was seventeen, she fell in love with an Irishman named Danny O’Malley, who she met one night after sneaking off to a pub where the single men and women liked to hang out. Charlotte knew her father would never allow her to actually marry Danny but after meeting him, she knew she could never marry the man she was engaged to. When Danny told her of his plan to come to the colonies in the hope of carving out a future for himself, Charlotte was determined to come with him.”
“That was gutsy.”
Riley nodded. “It is said that Charlotte was both educated and strong-willed. She ran away in the dead of night with only the clothes on her back and one bag with her jewelry and a change of clothing.”
“And after she arrived in the colonies?” I asked.
“History tells us that she played an important role in the Revolution, in terms of strategy and planning. As I said before, she was an educated woman, and naturally brilliant. Additionally, her willingness to roll up her sleeves and do what needed to be done earned her a place in local tales passed around between the men and women who lived during this very tumultuous time.”
“She sounds like an amazing individual. Do you know much about her life here? Did she marry Danny? Did they have children?”
“As far as I know, she was never legally wed to Danny, and I haven’t found evidence of children. Danny died during an altercation with a British soldier in 1775, but it is said that Charlotte was an integral part of the bid for independence right up until she died in 1779.”
“So, if this was her necklace, how might it have ended up in the mantel in The Yellow Dog?”
“The note that was in the drawer with the necklace could refer to a m
eeting that might have taken place in a blacksmith’s shop on Ship Street near Scarlett’s Wharf. While the blacksmith’s shop as a meeting place for the men who initiated the bid for independence was a secret at the time, there are many mentions of it in historical records available today. I don’t know for certain that Charlotte was involved in any way with this particular group of rebels, but if she was and needed to pass on a message, she may have used the secret drawer in the mantel as a drop point.”
“But why leave the necklace?”
Riley shrugged. “The necklace is and was quite valuable. I suppose it could have been left as some sort of payment for services solicited. I’m not sure I can ever tell you why the necklace was left in the drawer or even when it was left. For all I know, the necklace was passed down to someone else and that someone left it in the drawer a century later. What I can do is authenticate the piece, if you are willing to let me take a look at it.”
I glanced around. Folks were lingering, but it didn’t appear to be time to eat, so I agreed to allow Lonnie and Riley to follow me home to see the necklace, where I kept it in a drawer in my bedroom.
“Wow,” Riley said when I handed him the piece with the gold setting and huge sapphire. “It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.” He looked up at me. “What are you going to do with it?”
I frowned. “I don’t know for certain. It seems like the sort of thing that should be in a museum.”
“If you decide to sell it, I can find you a buyer. There is no doubt in my mind that this beauty will fetch a pretty penny.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, although I was sure that I wouldn’t sell. If the necklace really did belong to this remarkable woman, it absolutely should be in a museum where it could be seen and preserved for future generations. “So you think it is the real thing?”
Riley took out a magnifying glass and carefully looked at both sides of the necklace he held reverently in his hand. After a while, he nodded. “I do think this is authentic. Do you see this mark here on the back? It is a mark from an English jeweler who lived in the late sixteen hundreds. I imagine the necklace could have been commissioned for Charlotte’s mother or grandmother and then handed down to her.”