Murder Steals the Show (Rooftop Garden Cozy Mysteries Book 7)

by Thea Cambert

  Goodbyes and thanks were exchanged, and Alice, Owen, and Franny pedaled back around the lake to the house. They had just parked their bikes and gone inside when Alice’s phone rang.

  “It’s Luke,” she said, bending to pat Finn, who was hopping about, wagging his tail.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s dog-speak for ‘I need a potty break,’” said Owen.

  “I’d better take this call—and this dog—outside,” said Alice.

  A few minutes later, she returned.

  “What’d Luke have to say?” asked Franny, who had removed her shoes and propped her feet up on the coffee table.

  “He said a crew is working through the night, and the road will be clear tomorrow. He also said that he and Ben are doing everything they can to help Dewey from Runesville, and that we should leave it to them. I could hear Ben yelling in the background, telling us to stay out of the investigation.”

  “But Dewey needs us,” said Owen.

  “Ben’s just worried about me,” said Franny.

  Alice’s phone dinged. “And there’s Dewey,” she said.

  “Read!” Owen ordered.

  “He says he’s been doing some research on Damon Huxley. It took a lot of digging, but he finally tracked him down.” Alice’s eyes widened as she scrolled through the message. “He’d changed his name! He used to be Todd Damon, and he’s not from a wealthy family at all!”

  “So how did he—” Franny started to say.

  “Insider trading, apparently,” said Alice. “He actually did time for it. It gets even better . . . or, worse, really. Luke has a contact within the black market in Nashville.”

  “Ooh, how exciting!” said Owen.

  “The contact apparently told Luke he was expecting something big to come down the pike from this area. A very rare, multi-stoned necklace worth around twenty-five million dollars.”

  “It has to be the Scarlett Lady!” said Franny.

  “The black-market contact wasn’t willing to tell Luke who his Blue Valley connection was, but when he found out Damon was dead—and thus, didn’t need protecting—he admitted it!”

  “So, Damon was the thief!” said Franny.

  “But he didn’t steal the whole necklace, as he’d apparently intended to,” said Owen.

  “He certainly didn’t plan on dying with the diamond in his pocket,” said Alice.

  “I keep feeling like we’re running around in circles,” said Franny, who had found the bag of kettle corn from earlier and was munching away.

  Alice thought back to morning the day before, when she’d seen Damon watching the museum. “Let’s piece together a possible scenario.”

  “Good idea,” said Owen.

  “Damon planned to steal the necklace and sell it on the black market,” said Alice. “That’s why he was casing the museum yesterday morning.”

  “Ethel said he came into the museum yesterday, so he could’ve unlocked the window,” said Franny.

  “At the very least, he could’ve honed in on the exact location of the necklace and checked how secure it was,” said Alice.

  “Hold on,” said Owen. “I don’t think Damon unlocked the window.”

  “Why?” asked Franny.

  “Because if Damon had gotten there first, he would’ve stolen the whole necklace. Luke’s black-market guy said he’d been told to expect multiple stones—a rare piece. Not just one giant diamond.”

  “Of course!” said Alice. “Since the door alarm hadn’t been tripped, and the only other apparent point of entry was the window, the ruby thief must’ve gotten there first. Then, later, Damon got there and swiped what was left of the necklace.”

  “And then died,” said Franny.

  “What if Damon walked in on the original thief, and then that person drugged him?” Alice wondered.

  “Just like at the other robberies!” said Owen. “With the sleeping security guards!”

  “A strong enough dose of valium would definitely knock someone out,” said Franny.

  “And when that valium hit his system—” Alice started to say.

  “Which was already full of alcohol . . .” added Owen.

  “That would explain why Damon stumbled out the front door. He didn’t care about setting off the alarm at that point. He knew he was in trouble. He stumbled into the alley and ran into Pearl Ann,” said Alice.

  “He was grumbling about the jester,” said Franny.

  Alice sighed. “Then, we came along, and I heard bells.”

  “What about Taya? And Mayor Abercrombie?” asked Owen, who had taken charge of the remote control and was searching for a movie to watch. “Are they still suspects?”

  Everyone had gotten into their pajamas and was curled up on the couch, together with Poppy and Finn.

  “The way Taya reacted when you told her about how Damon died was definitely strange,” said Franny.

  “Do we think that she served him a cocktail of death?” Owen said in his spooky voice.

  “Then there’s the mayor,” said Alice. “As much as I hate it, we have to consider the fact that Damon was murdered the very same day that the scathing editorial was published in the newspaper—and that the mayor was at the scene of the crime.”

  “We have photographic evidence of that,” said Franny with a shiver.

  “I really don’t see Mayor Abercrombie or Taya as jewel thieves,” said Owen.

  “Neither do I,” said Alice. “I just hope they’re not murderers.”

  Chapter 12

  “We’d better hurry up and get over to the clearing,” Alice said, putting down her empty mug early the next morning. “The whole crew will be there getting ready for the day, and it’ll be the perfect time to feel out Wamba and the Clarks.”

  “We have a good excuse to be there, too, since we have to turn in our costumes,” said Owen, putting the last pieces of his costume—his pointy ears—into the packing box they’d come in. “I’m going to miss these most of all,” he said with a regretful sigh.

  “Well, the bright side is, your ears are sort of naturally pointy,” said Franny cheerily.

  “They are?” Owen rushed over to the mirror that hung next to the front door. “They are! Maybe I really am part elf!”

  “Please,” said Alice, rolling her eyes. “Let’s get these costumes back to the Clarks.” She paused and shook her head. “They’ve been so gracious. I hate to think they could be criminals.”

  “What about Wamba?” said Franny. “He’s a really nice guy, too.”

  “I’d still be willing to bet there’s a bad apple somewhere in that bunch,” said Owen. “Ooh! Maybe they’re all in cahoots and committed the crimes together!”

  “I hadn’t even thought about that,” said Alice.

  “We elves are more than just pretty faces, you know,” said Owen. “We’re also shockingly brilliant and insightful.”

  Alice raised a brow at Owen, then proceeded to stack the costume boxes into his arms, one on top of the other. “Let’s get going, smarty-pants.”

  “Then, we need to get over to Main Street,” said Owen from behind the boxes. “I have to bake twelve dozen chocolate scones, another twelve dozen Welsh cakes, and whip up some clotted cream this morning.”

  “Yum,” said Franny, putting a hand over her stomach, which was growling audibly. “The baby wants a scone.”

  “Your baby has very good taste,” said Owen.

  “We’ll drop off these costumes, see if we can pick up any clues, then head to work,” said Alice.

  “But only until one o’clock,” said Franny.

  “What happens at one o’clock?” asked Owen.

  “Lois told me that she and her brother will be performing at the park. We can have lunch and watch the show.”

  “I do love a good acrobatic display,” said Owen. “But, I suspect you’re looking for an excuse to eat yet another roasted turkey leg.” He gave Franny a knowing look, and she replied with a little shrug.

  When they arrived at the clearing, the sun
was just rising, and most of the faire staff had walked over from Cozy Bear and were quietly at work, resetting the grounds for the evening’s events. It was the night of the grand ball, and the jousting ring was being transformed into an enchanting fairytale dance floor.

  Alice spotted the Clarks wrapping flowered garlands around a tree trunk. “Good morning!” she called, pushing her bike while awkwardly managing Owen’s as well. Owen’s arms were still stacked high with the costume boxes, and Franny was leading him along by the arm since he couldn’t see a thing in front of him.

  “Let me help!” Drake quickly said, running to Owen and taking some of his load. “Just set them down right here, Owen. We’ve got use of the faire golf cart this morning. We’ll run these back over to our tent at the Cozy Bear as soon as we’re done here.”

  “We’re looking forward to your show this afternoon,” said Franny.

  “Glad you’re coming!” said Lois. “As soon as we’re done with this, we’re doing a run-through of some of the tough stunts right here in the clearing. You should hang around and watch!”

  “You’re so sweet,” said Owen. “But, we all have to get to work.” He turned to leave, gave Alice a wink, then turned back to the Clarks. “Oh, by the way, our friend Ethel, the director of the Heritage Museum?” He paused and put on a regretful expression. Alice held onto a straight face as she waited to see what Owen was up to. “She was so distraught after losing that beautiful necklace. Since you specialize in spectacular costumes—which really is an art form, by the way—we were wondering if it would be possible to make a replica of the Scarlet Lady. To give as a gift to Ethel.” Owen looked at Alice and Franny, who nodded, pretending to know what Owen was talking about.

  “Well, we do know a thing or two about costume jewelry,” Lois said slowly. “We’ve seen some amazing replicas.”

  “We’re all about creating convincing props,” said Drake proudly. “We once worked on a project that called for a replica of the Henckel Von Donnersmarck Tiara. That was a lot of fun.”

  “The heckle-von-what?” asked Owen.

  “It’s this famous German tiara,” said Lois.

  “You saw the Scarlet Lady, right?” asked Owen. “Do you think it’d be too complicated to copy?”

  Lois looked at her brother. “It is a very intricate necklace,” she said.

  “We read all about it in the paper,” Drake added. “From the looks of it, the little red diamonds would be pretty easy to copy, based on what I know about faux gemstones. We work with those all the time—like the ones on your costumes.”

  “And the giant diamond in the middle?”

  “A believable one would cost a bit, but I bet we could find one,” said Lois.

  “Do you think you could do it?” asked Owen.

  “I think so,” said Drake. “A thing like that, done right, wouldn’t be cheap, though.”

  Owen glanced at his watch. “We’ve got to run,” he apologized. “We’ll discuss it and check back with you later.”

  The Clarks nodded, and everyone wished everyone else a good morning.

  “That was an interesting conversation,” said Franny.

  “I just wanted to find out whether the Clarks have experience working with jewelry,” whispered Owen. “I think it’s safe to say they do.”

  “Plus, they seem to have an interest in jewels,” said Alice. “Let’s go poke at Wamba now, then update Dewey.”

  “There’s Wamba now,” said Franny, as they walked their bikes toward the edge of the clearing, where Wamba was busy untangling a string of twinkle lights.

  Before they caught up with him, Dewey pulled up in his police cruiser, lights flashing.

  “What’s going on?” Alice wondered aloud.

  They got nearer the cruiser and watched in startled silence as Dewey stepped out and hurried over to Wamba.

  “Ralph Woods?” he asked.

  “Yes, that’s me,” said Wamba.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to come with me,” Dewey said.

  “Wow, Dewey sounds just like one of the television cops,” whispered Owen.

  “What’s this about?” Wamba asked.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Woods, but I’m taking you in for questioning.”

  “But I’ve already answered your questions.” Wamba was clearly resisting complying.

  Finally, Dewey had no choice but to elaborate. “Some stolen jewels were found early this morning in your pocket.”

  “What pocket?” Wamba shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “Your costume from yesterday. Apparently, when your costumes were laundered, a couple of stolen gems were found.”

  “But I didn’t—”

  “In addition to that, you were at the scene of a murder the night before last.” He glimpsed Alice. “And, you were seen having an altercation with the deceased. Do you deny it?”

  “With that Damon jerk?”

  “Do you deny you had a confrontation with him, Mr. Woods?”

  Wamba dropped the twinkle lights and stared at the ground. “No,” he finally said, and walked silently to the cruiser, where Dewey opened the door and Wamba climbed in. The window was open, and through it, Wamba could be heard grumbling angrily, “I’d do it again, too. That jerk deserved what he got.”

  As he went around to get in behind the wheel, Dewey gave a nod to Alice, Owen, and Franny, and pulled out of the clearing. The rest of the faire staff stood quietly in shock for a moment, then went back to work, whispering among themselves.

  Alice, Owen, and Franny pedaled into town.

  “Look, there’s Taya,” Owen said as they turned onto Main Street and approached the Smiling Hound.

  “Let’s tell her about Wamba,” said Alice. “I’d rather she heard it from us than through the grapevine.”

  They slowed and came to a stop near Taya, who was walking down the sidewalk, about to go into the pub.

  “Hi, Taya,” Alice said. “We, uh, just saw something at the clearing that you’re probably going to want to know about.”

  “What?”

  “Wamba—or Ralph—was taken to the police station.”

  “Why?” Taya swallowed hard.

  “Dewey took him in for more questioning. It didn’t sound good.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Some of the stolen gems were found in his pocket,” said Franny.

  “Plus, he was at the scene of the murder,” said Alice. “And, he admitted to having a run-in with Damon.”

  “Of course he had a run-in with Damon,” said Taya, her face clouding over with a mix of sadness and rage. “That jerk wouldn’t leave me alone. Wamba—Ralph, that is—was defending me.”

  “Maybe he hit him a little too hard or something,” said Franny.

  “No, he didn’t,” said Taya. “I saw the whole thing! It happened at the Hound. I was coming down the back hallway, and Damon was still at the bar. He saw me, came into the hallway, blocked my path, and started grabbing at me. Ralph saw what was going on, stepped in, and gave Damon a good shove. He didn’t bother me anymore after that. I even went back to work the bar. With Ralph there, I felt safe. Then, they all left . . . And then . . .” Her voice faded and a tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Taya, what is it?” Alice asked, putting an arm around her and helping her to a nearby bench to sit down.

  “Ralph told me what happened after they all left the Hound that night,” Taya said, taking a tissue out of her bag and blowing her nose. “He followed Damon. Said he was going to confront him one more time—tell him never to bother me again. He was walking down the street, searching for Damon, when Damon came stumbling out of the museum. The alarm went off, and Ralph saw that Damon was completely drunk, the way he was weaving around. He walked up to him, gave him a little shove, and Damon fell immediately. He was getting back up, furious, calling Ralph names, but then Ralph heard someone coming from behind the building and ran away.”

  “That would be Pearl Ann,” said Owen, nodding. “She of the dead
ly handbag.”

  “That explains why I heard bells jingling in the distance,” said Alice. “Wamba must’ve run away just as we were walking to the alley with Pearl Ann.”

  “Wamba couldn’t have killed Damon,” said Owen, “because Damon was still alive when Pearl Ann found him—and that was after Wamba had shoved him.”

  “This explains why Damon was ranting about ‘the jester,’” said Franny. “He’d just had a fight with one!”

  “Taya, you’d better get over to the police station right away,” said Alice. “I’m pretty sure Dewey thinks Wamba had something to do with both the robbery and the murder. Maybe you can help clear that up.”

  “Ralph is no killer,” said Taya with a sob. “I know that for sure. Because I know exactly who killed Damon Huxley.”

  “Who?” asked Alice.

  “Me,” said Taya. “I put something into his drink. I was just so sick of his unwanted advances, and the way he tried to belittle me. I wanted to teach him a lesson. But, I had no idea he would have a bad reaction. I swear, I didn’t know!” She got up from the bench. “I’ve got to get to the police station. I have to clear this up! Poor Ralph!”

  Chapter 13

  The weather was perfect for an outdoor medieval faire—a blue sky with a few puffy clouds scattered across it, the flowers in the huge planters that lined Main Street in full bloom, and visitors and locals alike, walking around town, popping into shops and restaurants, and enjoying the shows and medieval food stands in the park.

  “Main Street is hopping!” said Owen, leaning over the façade on the top of their building. “I just pulled the last batch of scones from the oven downstairs, and Hilda’s in charge of the bakery for the rest of the day. I’m ready to put on my centaur costume and get down there!”

  “I’m glad it’s shaping up to be a nice day, after the strange morning we had,” said Alice, who was moving around the rooftop garden, watering plants.

  “I know,” agreed Franny, taking a seat to rest after trimming a few of the climbing vines that had gotten a little out of hand. “Now, we can finally relax and enjoy the rest of the faire. Ben and Luke are on their way home. Tonight’s the ball. The day’s going to be so much fun.”