4 A Dead Mother

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “Peter will have some ideas about how to make your home safer. Not just with electronic equipment. He can put armed guards at your house and can provide you with a driver, a bullet-proof car, or an escort if you want one.”

  “Am I a wimp? My board of directors has suggested I hire more security and I’ve always said no, except when I travel abroad. Even then, I’ve never felt as afraid as I am now.”

  “You’re no wimp. Fear is a perfectly natural response to the trauma you’ve experienced. This attack appears to have been a very personal one, targeting your mother as impossible as that may seem. If the person who burglarized your mother’s house is the same person who killed her, that’s brazen. It could also be an act of desperation. Do you want to skip the trip to Desert Park Preserve? I can call Peter, again, and he can have one of his employees pick up your car and take it to your house.”

  “Yes, it would be great if he can do that. I’d prefer not to have to visit the park or go anywhere near that roadside any time soon.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do,” I said volunteering Peter for another mission before asking him about it. Two minutes later, it was all arranged. “Peter’s sending someone here to get your car keys. You’ll need to call and notify the gatehouse to let him into your community.”

  “Sure. I’ll do that right now.”

  I paused as Leslie made that call and thanked our server who had dropped off my receipt. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Leslie’s hand was shaking as she held the phone. When she’d finished her call, I made another suggestion.

  “Leslie, Peter can protect you from the outside, but feeling safer inside is an entirely different matter. That’s probably going to take another kind of expertise.”

  “I’ve already got a shrink,” she sighed. “I guess it’s time to meet more than once every couple of weeks.”

  “Yes. Laura’s found a grief support group helpful, too.”

  On the way to Beverly’s house, I decided to convene the Cat Pack. I wanted to give and get updates, ASAP. Not tonight, but tomorrow night, giving Bernadette and everyone else more warning than they had last night. It wasn’t just Leslie’s fear that had moved me to act. Having just turned up the heat under Cedric Baumgartner’s beautifully crafted Salvatore Ferragamo dress shoes, it was time to raise our game. Maybe not all the way to DEFCON 1, but 3, maybe. After my second call to Peter, he was probably already on alert.

  What a difference a day makes… once you start stirring the pot, anyway, I thought as we headed for Araby Oasis.

  19 Contorniates, but No Brooch

  Thirty minutes later, I parked at the curb in front of Beverly Windsor’s house. Leslie had hardly spoken a word since Peter’s rugged-looking security guy had met us at the restaurant and taken her keys. As I got out of my car, I did a quick search of our surroundings. No one appeared to be lying in wait, in a car or on foot.

  When I stepped around my car to join Leslie at the gate to her mother’s courtyard, I caught sight of Beverly’s neighbor standing at her front window watching us. Barbara Stoddard didn’t appear to be hiding her behavior, but when I offered her a friendly wave, she appeared startled before waving at me in return. Everybody is so edgy, I thought. Barbara Stoddard retreated from her perch at the window.

  Seconds later, Rikki Havens pulled up at the curb in an unmarked police car with what I recognized as state-issued tags. When she exited the driver’s side of the vehicle, the passenger door opened, and Detective Hernandez hauled himself out of the car.

  “Greetings,” he cried, waving as he spoke.

  After a round of introductions, Leslie led us through the ornate metal gates to the courtyard at the front of her mother’s house. “You don’t keep these gates locked?” Rikki Havens asked.

  “Not in the past, given that the community’s gated and the house is locked and alarmed. Mom had deliveries left here week after week and never had a problem, even with all the workers running in and out of here.” The fountain that Beverly had fought about with members of the HOA bubbled pleasantly. I mentioned the trouble she’d had about that lovely water feature as Leslie opened the front door and made sure the alarm was disarmed.

  “That’s the incident that went to the Executive Committee and Cedric Baumgartner intervened on her behalf, correct?” Rikki was peering at what must have been notes she’d made about the case on a tablet computer—her higher-tech version of Jerry Reynold’s little notebook.

  “Yes,” Leslie and I both replied.

  “This area’s all cleaned up now, but Steve Landis’ guys kept tools and supplies out here while they were redoing the courtyard. As far as I know, they never had anything stolen,” Leslie added as she held the door and with a sweep of her arm, invited us inside.

  “Wow!” Rikki Havens gasped at the first glimpse of the gorgeous interior. “This place is amazing.”

  “Wait until you see the kitchen,” I added. “I don’t see police tape, anywhere, Detective Hernandez. Does that mean your team investigating the break-in has completed their work here?”

  “It does, indeed. I’m just here to make sure we haven’t missed anything given the special circumstances surrounding this case.”

  “We’re having Peter March come by this afternoon to help us secure the property. That includes bringing in a locksmith to rekey the house, unless you object, detectives.”

  “No problem, if I need to get in here again, I’ll give you a shout, Ms. Windsor. I have photos the Cathedral City officers took when they responded to Jessica’s call. I presume they’ve collected any items they thought might help them collect fingerprints if the intruder left any.”

  “Yes. So far, we haven’t recovered any prints other than those of the homeowner.” Hernandez dropped his eyes to the floor as he said that, and his shoulders slumped as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. I couldn’t know for sure, but I suspected his discomfort stemmed from the fact that the prints used for comparison purposes had come from the coroner’s office—taken from the homeowner’s corpse. “You know you’ll hear from me if we need to get back in here,” he added looking me in the eye.

  “There were papers strewn about on the desk and floor in here. They’re gone now,” I said as I moved us along. I flipped on the switch as I had done the day before, and walked into the den. “There were some books and knick-knacks knocked over on the shelves. I guess those were taken too. Any sign of the laptop?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “I’ve searched my house, car, and garage just in case Mom left it somewhere without telling me. No luck,” Leslie added as she made her way around the den. “These are valuable Contorniates, by the way. A thief would have pocketed them, don’t you think?” She asked, pointing to a set of framed medallions on a bookshelf.

  “Why would your mother have kept coins out in the open like that?” Detective Hernandez asked.

  “They’re not coins,” Leslie replied. “They’re medallions made in the fifth century or so, originally used as gifts intended to honor and bring good fortune to the recipients.” It was Leslie’s turn to stare awkwardly at the floor in silence. Fighting for control of her emotions? I wondered.

  “When Leslie says they’re valuable, she means on the order of a few thousand dollars each to a collector. Beverly liked to have them out as a reminder of how much good fortune she’d experienced.” I paused thinking how fickle the fates are with us. Fortunes change precipitously from one day to the next, don’t they? Maybe that’s what caused Leslie’s silence.

  “My father gave them to her. That’s what gives them their greatest value,” Leslie said, choking on her words.

  “Still, a few thousand dollars would have been a decent payday for a thief,” Rikki commented. “Even if they didn’t know what they were, they look like coins. A thief who rummaged through this shelf would have taken them without hesitation.”

  “So not a thief in the conventional sense,” I kibitzed. “Have you two been able to figure out what paperwork was picke
d up and taken into evidence? From the pictures I took, it looks to me like the intruder had gone through contracts and receipts—mostly having to do with the renovations.”

  “Yes, that’s what I’ve been told. Nothing of a personal nature as far as we can tell, but perhaps that’s what was taken. Would she have kept private papers or correspondence in here?”

  “She wasn’t too keen on writing letters, if that’s what you mean. Mom had made the transition to email, so most of her correspondence, personal or otherwise, would have been on her laptop. Printed copies of anything that had identifying information on it like her social security number, bank or brokerage account numbers wouldn’t have been kept in here—not for long anyway. Her tax info, reports about her investments, ownership documents for the house and car, would have been kept in her safe if she hadn’t given them to Jessica or her accountant.”

  “Safe? Where?” Rikki Havens asked. Both detectives had suddenly gone on point like a couple of bloodhounds.

  “In her bedroom, built into the walk-in closet. It’s fireproof, waterproof, and has a keypad entry like the security alarm. More than a wall-safe, it’s a panic room.”

  “I’m sure the officers who went through the house would have noticed if someone had trashed the closet in her room, but let’s go see.” Detective Hernandez straightened his shoulders as Leslie led the way and we followed her into Beverly’s master suite.

  “Nothing appears to have been disturbed,” Leslie said. “I suppose that means she hadn’t let the man in her life in on all her secrets.” A bitter tone had crept into her voice. The two detectives eyed me as if I’d held out on them in some way.

  “She means Cedric Baumgartner, the same guy who came to her aid with the HOA. Rikki knows who he is, Detective Hernandez. He’s also on the list of names I gave her earlier today.”

  “Yes. We wanted to interview him this afternoon, but it took us a while to catch up with him. After a couple of rounds of phone tag, we set up an interview for tomorrow morning, first thing.” It was Leslie’s turn to give me the eye.

  “Playing hard to get is another of his skills, no doubt. I wouldn’t be surprised if he packs his bags and takes off. Jessica rattled his cage, today.” The bitterness in her voice was even more pronounced as she added that comment. “Excuse me a minute and I’ll make sure no one has been into Mom’s safe.”

  While Leslie was in the closet, checking the contents of the safe, I explained that we’d gone to lunch at Figaro’s and bumped into Cedric Baumgartner.

  “I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to check further into his background. Leslie found a business card that suggests he’s more than just a pretty face who escorted women around town in Palm Beach. Apparently, he’s branched out and become a Registered Investment Adviser.” I explained what that title meant.

  “Baumgartner may have had more interest in Beverly’s money than the would-be thief who pawed through here,” Hernandez grumbled.

  “If Beverly Windsor had any information that put him in a compromising position, I wouldn’t rule him out as the intruder.” The detectives were scanning me again. “I have no idea what that could be.”

  “Hmm. That’s an intriguing angle on both crimes. On the initial background check we ran, it lists his occupation as retired. Before that, he claimed to have been self-employed, running a series of consulting businesses as sole proprietorships. No criminal history. He only lives a few blocks away. Is it unusual for a person who doesn’t own property in a community to be a member of the Homeowners Association? He’s not the owner of the property in which he’s living.”

  “Who does own it?”

  “It’s corporate-owned, actually.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “The Alpha Advantage.”

  “Yes. Have you been holding out on us?” Rikki asked.

  “Of course not. That’s the name of the company on his business card Leslie came across. You could check with Ruth, if you haven’t already interviewed her. She couldn’t recall the name of the firm pushing that fund, but she might recognize it if you ask her about The Alpha Advantage. Or I can have Kim Reed ask her, if you’d prefer. She’s meeting with Ruth again soon.”

  “Go for it. We interviewed her today, but we didn’t have the name of the company you just mentioned. I asked her about Cedric Baumgartner and she told us the same story she told you. He seemed like a nice guy who got involved in a romance with Beverly, although Ruth had vague concerns about him. Nothing specific, but she did mention his lack of boundaries between personal and business matters. Let us know what she says about that company, okay?”

  “Sure, I’ll ask Kim to text you.” Leslie reemerged from the closet. Rather than wait, I sent Kim a message right away asking her to run that company name past Ruth. When I heard that little whoosh sound that meant it was on its way, I listened carefully to Leslie’s report.

  “Nothing’s been touched in the safe. None of her files look like the ones you found in the den. Everything’s nice and neat. She’s got emergency cash in there, along with other supplies. Her good jewelry and her more expensive collectibles are there, too.” As Leslie delivered that news, she moved to the jewelry box sitting on top of Beverly’s lovely antique credenza.

  “If the closet was left untouched, what was searched in here besides her jewelry box?” I asked.

  “The drawers in her bedside tables and those in other pieces of furniture. Shelves were searched in the closet, shoe boxes rifled through, but nothing dumped on the floor. The thief must not have known about the safe or couldn’t get into it.”

  “It’s cleverly-concealed,” Leslie said rather absent-mindedly as she focused on the items in her mother’s jewelry box. Rikki Havens must have been curious about the location of that safe because she stepped into the walk-in closet. I heard her moving about in there. The sound of hangers sliding on rods suggested she was intent on finding it.

  “I give up. Well-hidden is right!”

  Detective Hernandez shrugged when Rikki stepped back into the bedroom. He shoved his hands back into his jacket pockets, perhaps getting a little antsy to get out of here. Me, too. I wanted to move on so we could the search of the rest of the house. It was clear as a bell to me that this wasn’t a typical robbery. Or so I thought.

  “That’s odd,” there’s only one piece missing from her jewelry box. It’s a lovely brooch she loved to wear with her scarves. Is it on the list of items taken into evidence?”

  “No. We didn’t mess with the jewelry. Since so much of it was left behind, we figured that wasn’t what this thief was after. We decided you’d be better able to sort out what was or wasn’t missing if we left it as we found it.”

  “Was the brooch especially valuable in some way?” I asked.

  “Not in terms of its dollar value. It’s worth less than those Contorniates. She had it for years, though, since it was also a gift from my father. He gave it to her as a birthday present soon after they were married before he could afford to buy her all the expensive jewelry she now has in the safe. I’m not sure who knew about its sentimental value besides me. Maybe it’s at a jeweler’s being cleaned or repaired. I’ll check with her favorite jeweler if you’d find that helpful, Detective Havens. I can’t imagine why anyone would have picked out that particular piece to steal.”

  I could. A jealous lover might be inclined to rid the place of a special memento from Beverly’s past tied to another man. Not that Cedric struck me as the jealous or sentimental type. He was more a calculating “cold fish” in my book than a man of passion.

  “I can have someone contact the jeweler, Leslie. You’ve got a lot on your plate already. Beverly loved that little shop on El Paseo—Garret’s, right? I went there with her when she picked out that necklace for your Christmas present.” I was suddenly awash in the warmth of that happy memory, or perhaps enveloped for a moment in the lingering vigor of Beverly’s spirit.

  “Yes, that’s the one,” Leslie said in a low voice as she turned away.

&n
bsp; “For now, I’ll list it as missing and possibly stolen. It’ll be on record if you need to file a report with your insurance company later. Maybe the fate of your mother’s missing laptop will become clearer by the time you figure out what happened to that brooch and you can handle the insurance issues in one shot.” Leslie nodded in response to Rikki’s thoughtful suggestion. Hernandez’ voice was a bellow by comparison as he asked that we move on and finish the walk-through.

  In another half hour, we were done. Leslie was obviously wrung out, although she promised to conduct a more careful search through her mother’s files at some point. She confirmed what I’d already told Rikki. Beverly’s important papers were at our office or in her safe.

  Our walk-through concluded with a visit to the patio and backyard where plenty of work remained to be done. Dirty footprints were everywhere. If the thief had exited out the back it wouldn’t have mattered, since I doubt anyone could sort the thief’s prints from those made by others.

  “What’s that?” Rikki Havens asked while we stood amid dirt and pebbles on the patio. I’d turned the patio lights on as the sun settled lower in the sky, and an object lying on the ground had caught a sparkle of light. Leslie reached up and touched her ears—first one, and then the other.

  “It’s an earring. Not one of mine, although it looks like the diamond studs I often wear.” She must have reacted instinctively since she wasn’t wearing any earrings at all.

  “Did your mother have a pair?”

  “No. She was strictly a fan of clip-ons,” Leslie responded.

  “No piercings. No tattoos,” I added having heard Beverly proclaim her objections to anything but clip-ons when a jeweler had tried to interest her in a beautiful pair of black pearl earrings for pierced ears. Leslie nodded in agreement with my statement.

  “I’ll bag it,” Detective Hernandez said, pulling a pair of gloves and a little envelope out of an inside pocket of his jacket. He held it in the palm of his gloved hand as I examined the earring.