by Robin Caroll
Beau tossed the keys over to Marcel. “You drive.”
His mind tried to focus on the case, but being honest, he had to admit that it was hard not to think about his and Addy’s conversation last night. And their date tomorrow. Where was he going to take her? He really couldn’t compete in the meal department since Dimitri was a chef.
“What’re you thinking, man?” Marcel steered the car toward Jackson Larder’s address.
Beau realized his partner certainly never had any issues getting dates with a gaggle of ladies. Maybe he might have suggestions. “I have a date tomorrow night.” That he blurted it out surprised him almost as much as it surprised his partner.
“Do tell.” Marcel split his attention between the road and Beau. “With who?”
“It’s whom, and Addy, of course.”
“Hey, you say that like there’s no other possibility, but she’s kept you at arm’s length for almost a year. What changed?”
Beau lifted a shoulder and considered his answer. “She was out of the country for half of that time, you know. She said she did a lot of thinking while she was gone, and now she feels ready.”
Marcel made a humming noise.
“What?” Of course his partner would have reservations.
“Look, you know I like Addy and think she’s a heckuva woman, but I just want to make sure you aren’t being set up to get hurt.”
“Addy’s not like that.”
“Yeah, not on purpose. What about Pampalon? You can’t deny there’s something between them.” Marcel turned into Larder’s subdivision.
“I know.” The admittance nearly scorched Beau’s tongue. “But Addy’s been very honest about that. She told me she liked me but also liked him. She’s not playing games.”
“She told you that?” At a stop sign, Marcel spared a stare at Beau.
“She did. I told you, Addy’s not one to play games.” If he got hurt, it wouldn’t be because she hadn’t been honest with him.
“Well, I know how you feel about her, so best of luck.” Marcel whipped the cruiser into Larder’s driveway, parking behind the Chevy sedan. “Where are you taking her?”
Beau released his seatbelt and stepped out of the car. “I have no idea. I mean, Pampalon is a chef . . .”
“Yeah, you need something really special.” He led the way up the stairs to the front door, pulling the cutter out of his pocket and making quick work of the crime-scene tape.
“Any suggestions?” Beau followed his partner through the door, slipping on latex gloves as he did.
Marcel jabbed his hands into his own gloves. “For dinner? Let me think. I’ll start here in the living room if you want to take the bedroom.”
“Fine by me, and yes, dinner.” Beau headed to the bedroom. CSU had inventoried most things in the room, but this time he’d actually look in places they hadn’t. In the closet, under the bed, in all the drawers. Any place a tiara and fifty thousand in cash could be hidden. CSU usually only looked for physical evidence of a homicide, so they wouldn’t have dug into things. “Remember to check vents this time.”
Marcel laughed from the living room. “Sure, let me forget one time to check the air vents three years ago, and you have to remind me every time.”
“Well . . .” Beau chuckled and again thought about how far Marcel had come and how their trust of each other had grown.
“Hey, how about Commander’s Palace for dinner? It’s really romantic,” Marcel called out from the other room.
“Too crowded on a Saturday night during carnival season.” Beau opened the first drawer in the chest. Underwear and socks. “I want something a little more intimate.”
“August’s?”
Beau moved on to the next drawer. T-shirts. “Same thing.”
“Well, if you really want to make an impression, make her a picnic and take her somewhere special.”
Beau shut the last drawer, which housed sweat pants and gym shorts. “Hey, now that’s a good idea.” Using his flashlight, he peered through the grate of the air vent. Nothing.
“I’ve been known to have them. Moving on to the dining room.”
“I could grab some takeout from Broussard’s. Addy loves their bread pudding.” Beau felt along the walls in the closet to make sure there were no hidden recesses.
“They make the best. Where will you take her for your picnic?”
Beau slid his hand between the mattress and box spring. “I have no idea. It’ll be nice and cool out. Someplace away from the hubbub of the Quarter.”
“City Park?”
“Still too busy. It’s Mardi Gras season. Moving on to the bathroom.” Not many places to hide a tiara or fifty grand in cash here, but Beau checked the linen closet and vent thoroughly, even checked in the exhaust-fan housing. Nada.
“You’re gonna be limited then, bro. Dining room is cleared. Heading to the study . . . office . . . whatever.”
“Yeah.” So many people filled the city during the carnival season. While it was wonderful for the local economy, it was often hard on the locals. Beau wanted someplace quieter. More remote, but not out in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere romantic but not run of the mill. Somewhere like . . . “Hey, what about the Fly?”
The Fly was a secret kept among the locals—a strip of frontage along the Mississippi River behind Audubon Zoo. The sun set right over the river, providing a truly spectacular sight. Natural romantic ambience.
“Oh, that’s good, man. Good call. This time of year, it’ll be pretty perfect.”
Beau nodded as he turned off the bathroom light and headed down the hall. He stopped and checked the HVAC’s return-air vent but again found nothing.
Addy would love a sunset picnic along the river. Broussard’s and the Fly . . . He had a plan. He stuck his head into the room where his partner dug through a desk. “I’ll check out the kitchen.” Although he didn’t have much hope. So far, the trip had been a big bust. Still, the kitchen might hold a perfect hiding spot. Decades ago, the coolest hiding place was in a freezer. Maybe he’d get lucky.
“Beau!”
He rushed back down the hall to the second bedroom Larder had used as an office. “Whatcha got?” He stepped into the room.
Marcel sat in front of the desk, the bottom right-hand drawer opened. Inside were five stacks of money, each with a ten-thousand- dollar label around it. Each label had the Darkwater Inn logo stamped on it. “I had to jimmy the lock, but this looks an awful lot like almost fifty grand, doesn’t it?”
Excitement zinged through Beau as he pulled an evidence bag from his inside jacket pocket and passed it to his partner. He used his cell phone to take several photos of the stacks of money inside the drawer.
Marcel filled out the label on the bag, then began pulling the stacks of money out and counted them. Beau counted along with him, making notes in his notebook. Each stack had ten thousand dollars. After Marcel counted each stack, he dropped it into the evidence bag.
“All here and accounted for.” Marcel closed and sealed the evidence bag. “He didn’t take as much as a hundred.”
“Probably didn’t have time.” Beau flipped through his notebook and read. “The hack and robbery hit a little after five on Wednesday afternoon. Walt said the guys’ time of death was about five thirty to six. Let’s say that it was closer to six.”
“Larder kills them at six, grabs the stuff from the vault, then has to get out. At best, that would probably have him leaving the Darkwater around six fifteen-ish.” Marcel signed the label on the evidence bag.
Beau slipped his notebook back into his pocket. “If Larder drove straight home, staying within the speed limit so as to not get pulled over, considering traffic at that time of day and it being carnival season with so many tourists here, he’d arrive about six forty-five to seven.”
Marcel set the evidence bag on the desk. “Walt put Larder’s time of death between five and five thirty on Thursday morning. That means Larder only had the money here in his possession for about ten hours before he was killed
.”
“Not a lot of time to spend any money.” Beau watched as his partner checked the rest of the desk. No tiara. “I suppose he could have stopped somewhere else and hid the tiara.”
“We didn’t go through his car.” Marcel stood. “I’m done in here, so I’ll check it.”
Beau nodded. “I’ll go back to the kitchen.” He didn’t want to be discouraged. At least they’d found the money, which would make Addy happy. But he really wanted to find the tiara to get it back to the princess. Especially since she’d taken it out of the country without permission.
The kitchen looked as pristine as when they were here before. Beau didn’t have much hope that he’d find the tiara there, but he checked inside the freezer first . . . just in case. Nothing but frozen pizzas. He opened the refrigerator and shifted things around. No crown. He couldn’t swallow back the disappointment as he rummaged through cabinets, finding nothing more exciting than mismatched dishes.
Maybe Marcel was having better luck in the car. Beau went through the drawers. Silverware. Junk drawer. Takeout menus. He shut them all.
On the counter sat a fruit bowl with what looked like the sad and dried up remains of a couple of oranges, a rusted wrench, an almost empty roll of trash bags, and a roll of duct tape. Time to check on Marcel. He took a step, then stopped. Looked back at the fruit bowl.
What bugged him?
The wrench was rusted, indicating it had been left outside. Now it was inside. In the fruit bowl? Duct tape. The junk drawer was literally right under where the bowl sat on the counter. The half roll of electrical tape was in the drawer, so why was the duct tape in the fruit bowl? The end of a roll of trash bags? A box of them sat in the cabinet under the kitchen sink.
It made no sense. Larder was pretty meticulous. The kitchen was immaculate. Beau had noticed it when they found the body. So these odd items, out of place, didn’t sit well with him. His detective senses were screaming not to ignore his gut instinct to pay attention.
He glanced around the kitchen. What would Larder have needed the wrench for? The stove/oven combo was electric, not gas, so no tightening a connection bolt.
Gas.
Beau glanced out the window over the sink to the back patio. The grill was a gas grill. He opened the kitchen door and stepped out onto the concrete. A breeze swept across the space, cool and fresh. He lifted the lid of the smoker. Nothing but the rack sat inside.
Yeah, a bit of a stretch he’d find something, but still, he had to check. He replaced the lid back on the smoker, then flipped up the hinged lid to the grill. The rack was empty. Beau let out a breath.
Another breeze shot across the yard. Something in the grill waved. Something wrapped in a trash bag and duct taped to the lid. “Marcel!” Heart thudding excitedly in his chest, Beau pulled out his cell phone and snapped several photos.
“Marcel!” He slipped the phone back into his pocket and headed to the side of the house. “Marcel!”
His partner straightened, having been bent over the trunk of the sedan. “I found a box of stuff back here.”
“Come here.” Beau moved back to the grill, his spidey sense going crazy. This was the crown. He knew it. Knew it.
“What did you find?” Marcel appeared from around the side of the house, carrying a cardboard box about two feet squared. “This was in the trunk. One of the file folders has the Darkwater Inn logo on it, so I figured we’d better take it all into evidence.” He set it on the little table on the patio. “What’ve you got?”
Beau pointed at the lid of the grill.
Marcel let out a long, slow whistle. He pulled out his cell and opened the video app.
“I’ve already photographed as is.” Beau gently pulled the trash bag from the lid, then tore off the duct tape.
He ripped open the plastic trash bag to reveal a very shiny, very sparkly, very bejeweled tiara.
17
Dimitri
“In summation, according to all of my sources, Jackson Larder was the hacker and the person responsible for stealing the belongings from the safe. The stolen items, I’m sure, are still at his home. Once the police clear the scene tape from his residence, I’ll see what I can find.”
Dimitri was impressed. The PI had gotten a lot done in a short time.
“I’ve not yet been able to trace who killed Mr. Larder, but I do have a couple of leads I’m following up on. For now, that’s where I’m at on the case.” Rodney Ardoin had been clear and concise since he called four minutes ago with his update. He’d been punctual, calling at ten o’clock on the dot, just as promised.
Dimitri appreciated his attention to detail. “Good work.”
Rodney chuckled over the connection. “I haven’t done much yet, but I’ve gathered the information I needed to dive in. I’ll call you at ten tomorrow morning, unless I find out something that I believe you’d want to know immediately.”
“Yes. That would be great.” He smiled as Addy stepped into the kitchen’s private little office. “Thank you. Talk to you soon.” Dimitri disconnected the call and stood. “Hello, Adelaide. To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you twice in one morning?”
“Hi, again.” The tips of her ears brightened and she averted her gaze. “The Liechtenstein court jeweler landed a little while ago, and the car is on the way here. From what I was told, while he is originally from Moscow, he speaks fluent English.” Her cheeks were flushed, and a couple of strands of her long, dark hair had escaped the braid trailing midway down her back.
Completely how Dimitri could picture her looking if he had her in his arms like he wanted to have her, kissing her breathless.
“I’m going to meet him in the lobby and take him up to his room. I put him in a junior suite. Do you think that’s okay?”
Dimitri forced himself to focus on what she said. “Yes. That’s fine. Would you like me to go with you?”
“Yes. I called for Lissette, but she’s not answering my calls. I left her a message.”
That was odd. “Let me try her.” His call went straight to voice mail. “Hmm. I guess she’ll return our calls shortly when she realizes she missed them.” He followed Adelaide down the hall of the backside of the kitchen.
“Should I take him directly to the princess, or should I call Katerina first? I’m afraid I don’t know the correct protocol.”
“I would say to call the princess and let her know he’s almost here. I would bet she’ll tell you what needs to be done.”
“Right.” He hadn’t seen her this flustered since . . . Well, it’d been a while since he’d seen her flustered over work issues.
“Let me call her suite.” Adelaide stopped at the hostess’s station and lifted the house phone. “This is Adelaide Fountaine, general manager of the Darkwater Inn. May I please speak with Princess Katerina von Pavlovna?”
Dimitri turned to see his father striding across the lobby, Lissette practically running to keep up with him, looking more than a little uncomfortable in her dress and heels. Claude marched right up to Dimitri, ignoring Lissette. “I’m told the Liechtenstein gemologist is in route?”
“Yes. Adelaide and I came to the lobby to meet him and show him to his room. Adelaide has made sure he has proper accommodations.”
“The driver said they would be here soon.” Lissette sounded almost out of breath. She kept her head ducked and her eyes averted.
Dimitri’s gaze danced between his father and his sister. Something wasn’t quite right.
Adelaide joined them. “The princess requested that we ask Mr. Orlov to ring her room when he’s settled in and ready to see her.” She smiled at Lissette’s bent head, then Claude.
Dimitri’s father scowled at her in response. “Ms. Fountaine, Lissette informs me that you’ve been telling people, specifically your friend on the police force, that I had something in the safe that was taken, despite my statement to the contrary. Just what are you trying to imply, Ms. Fountaine?”
“I’m not implying anything, Mr. Pampalon.” Adelaide s
quared her shoulders and lifted her chin.
Dimitri swallowed, recognizing her stance.
“I’m stating that I saw a black velvet pouch of yours in the safe’s drawer on Monday when we put the crown there. That’s a fact.” Adelaide held Claude’s stare.
“How do you know such an item belonged to me, if it was even there?” Claude made sure to look down his nose at Adelaide.
She raised her chin a little higher. “Fair point, sir. I don’t know that it was your item.”
Dimitri’s father smiled.
“I do, however, know that you carried that item into the vault earlier that very morning.” Adelaide maintained eye contact with his father.
Claude stopped smiling. “What makes you so sure of that?”
Adelaide shifted her weight back to her left heel, leaning back just a little. “Because video surveillance confirms you going into the vault on Monday morning with the black pouch item and leaving minutes later without it.”
The vein in the center of Claude’s forehead bulged. “I don’t remember dates, so I must have removed it sometime after that.” He made a waving motion of dismissal.
But Adelaide wasn’t going to let it go. She shook her head. “Not according to the videos. It doesn’t show you going back into the vault at all.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” Claude’s eyes were wide, and his neck turned red.
“I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding.” Dimitri stepped between his father and Adelaide, his face toward his father. “I hear the gemologist is Russian, from Moscow, but speaks English fluently.” He noticed that Lissette wore the slightest smile as Claude continued to glare at Adelaide.
Brrring.
“Excuse me.” Adelaide turned away, sticking her cell phone to her ear. She took a few steps from their group and spoke in a hushed tone.
“Lissette, I was looking for you earlier. You didn’t answer my call.” Dimitri stared at his sister but monitored his father’s expression from the corner of his eye. Claude Pampalon could, and would, blow, and Adelaide was in line to take a direct hit.
“I’m sorry. Claude and I were discussing some hotel business.” Something about her posture . . .
