Above our heads we hear the oven timer buzz.
“I think Nancy just wants something she can share with her daughter,” Ty says. “It wouldn’t kill Bec to bake a batch of muffins with the old girl.”
Chapter 9
When it’s time for lunch, I can’t face another chat with Nancy, so I say I have some errands to run. Ty doesn’t seem to mind her company, and he certainly appreciates her free, home-cooked food, so I leave him behind.
I need to tell Sean that the elopement plan is off. He’s rarely free to meet me for lunch, but I can give it a shot. When I text him, he answers immediately and says he can manage a 45-minute break if I meet him at the diner near the police station.
I arrive first and wrangle a booth despite the waitress’s effort to slot me into a small table surrounded by other customers. I save time by ordering two Greek salads with grilled chicken and two iced teas, confident that Sean will approve. While I wait, I check my phone.
A message from Bec Carnahan pops up.
Are my parents driving you crazy?
No, they’re sweet. I convinced your mom you wouldn’t want her Tupperware layer-cake carrier or her embroidered fingertip towels.
OMG! I’m sorry. She just won’t give up trying to get me to keep that old crap.
That. Old. Crap.
I get where Bec’s coming from; I wouldn’t want a cake carrier either. But I sympathize with Nancy. The possessions she’s trying to get Bec to accept represent her life’s work—bake sales, holiday gatherings, family celebrations. They’re not old crap to her. And the two items Bec wants to keep—a landscape painting and some jewelry—are heirlooms from Lester’s parents. There’s absolutely nothing Bec wants that belongs to Nancy. But is it my job to encourage Bec to humor her mother? I give it a try.
Do you and Dana like to cook? Your mom does have some great kitchenware that she would love for you to take.
Our kitchen is very small. And we like everything to be white or stainless steel. Sell it.
So much for family therapy, Audrey Nealon version.
I’m holding the phone in my hands but gazing at a poster of Santorini on the diner wall when Sean sits down across from me. “Wishing you were in Greece instead of a Greek diner?”
I snap back into focus. “Hi, you. No, I don’t mind being in Palmyrton right now. I was meditating on family dynamics.”
“That sounds like an invitation to indigestion.”
The waitress sets down our salads and we commence operations. Sean gives me all his Kalamata olives; I give him half my cucumbers. “I went to tell Dad and Natalie about the elopement plan. Dad wasn’t home, but Natalie begged me not to do it. She says Dad is really looking forward to walking me down the aisle. He’ll be devastated if we elope.”
Sean tosses one last hidden olive my way. “That’s okay. I didn’t really think it would work.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I’ll make everyone in my family behave. I just need a little time. Trust me.”
Normally, I’d find the touch of his hand comforting, but today it’s not enough. “Why do families have to be so impossible? Every day, normal people shrug off little annoyances—a driver who cuts them off, a rude sales clerk. But when a family member is irritating, we can’t let it go.”
“Hey, what’s up with Palmyrton’s funnest couple?” Terry slides into the booth next to me, and Sean drops my hand.
“Just having lunch. What are you doing in this part of town?” Sean asks. “I thought you were working out on Route 10.”
“That gig ended. I’m kinda between assignments.”
I see Sean’s mouth tighten, but he doesn’t comment. Clearly, Terry doesn’t want to talk about his work, or lack thereof. I certainly don’t want to tell Terry we were discussing the possibility of elopement before he arrived. I struggle for a safe topic. “Have you and Julie taken Ella to see Bonzo Live yet?” This kiddie extravaganza has been attracting hordes to the Palmyrton Theater for the past two weeks, and I know the other Coughlin nieces and nephews have gone.
“Hell, no! The tickets are forty bucks a pop. Brendan and Deirdre can throw their money around, but I’m not shelling out to see some mangy clown.”
Ugh! I should have known anything that involves spending money isn’t a safe topic with Terry.
My future brother-in-law turns to me with a snarky smile and tosses today’s newspaper onto the table. “I see your assistant’s brother got arrested for robbery.”
I glance down and see a scary dude named Michael Griggs glaring from a mug shot in the Daily Wretched. “Ty doesn’t have a brother.” I shove the paper back. Terry is so infuriating! “Why would you assume he’s related? Griggs is a very common name.”
“Maybe he’s a distant cousin.” Satisfied that he’s gotten a rise out of me, Terry swivels to Sean. “Speaking of distant cousins, I hear Father Frank is really upping his game.” Terry grins. “He’s got Mom convinced your wedding is the biggest sin to ever stain the Coughlin family. Are you going to write him a check to get you an annulment?”
The tendons stand out in Sean’s neck. “No, I’m not.” He jabs his fork in his brother’s direction. “And you keep your nose out of it. Stop discussing it with Mom. You’re fanning the flames.”
The waitress chooses that moment to appear. “How we all doin’? Did you wanna order, too?”
“No, he was just leaving,” Sean answers for Terry. “You can bring us our check.”
Terry leaves without saying good-bye, and Sean watches him exit the diner. “If he wanted to scam a free lunch offa me, he shouldn’t have pissed me off.” Sean’s phone starts buzzing as he crams a few last bites of salad in his mouth. He squeezes my shoulder. “That’s work. Gotta run. See you tonight.”
So I’m alone in an empty booth with twenty perfectly good olives and a pile of lettuce. I munch and pull out my iPad. Might as well do a little research. I soon establish that the movie poster I found rolled up in one of the Carnahans’ closets is, unfortunately, not a collector’s item. Now, as long as I’m connected to the diner’s wifi, I Google “Richard Carnahan Obituary.” Of course, there is more than one dead Richard, but only one born in the 1970s. His death merited a mention not only in the Palmyrton Daily Record but also the New York Times.
Lawyer killed in Climbing Accident
Richard Carnahan, 32, a partner at the law firm Fisk and Martinson, was killed on Saturday in a mountain-climbing accident on Mt. Rainier. His father was also injured.
The obituary goes on to list Richard’s education and career accomplishments, but provides no further details on the accident.
Survived by his parents, Nancy and Lester of Palmyrton, sister Rebecca of Richmond, VA, and fiancée Ashleigh Montrose, an advertising executive in Manhattan.
He was thirty-two when he died. Just made partner at a big-name law firm. Engaged to an equally successful young woman. The perfect life was just within their grasp. The perfect grandchildren were just within Nancy’s grasp.
And then Richard fell off the side of a mountain.
Chapter 10
After finishing up at the Carnahans’ house this afternoon, Ty and I have returned to the office to prepare for the bigger sale we’re doing this weekend. Ty is working on signs while I send out an email announcement to our regulars. “Did you have any success convincing Lester that the trunk in the attic didn’t actually come over on the Mayflower?” I ask as I type.
Ty doesn’t answer. I glance up. He is staring fixedly across the room. Is there a mouse? A tarantula? My gaze moves in the same direction.
To the coat rack.
Which is empty.
“Where’s my dress? Did you move it?” I know even as the words are leaving my mouth that he didn’t. His face is as stricken as mine.
“Where is it? Who moved it?” Together we tear around the office. But there are only so many places where a large Kleinfeld’s garment bag could be in a small, cluttered office: the over-stuffed supply closet, the floor behind Adrien
ne’s old desk, the powder room.
My wedding dress is not in this office. I feel the same rising panic I felt when Sean’s niece slipped away from me at the carnival. Come back! Please, come back!
“When did we last see it?” I ask as I continue to search. “It was here yesterday morning, but we went straight to the job today. We haven’t been here since yesterday.”
Ty stops first. “How did the thief get in? Did we leave the window open the other day after we burned popcorn in the microwave?”
Thief. The reality is sinking in. Someone stole my Bettina Bartok designer wedding gown.
Ty and I move to the window: it’s locked tight, with no signs of being pried open. We examine the door, but I already know we won’t see pry marks—we both came in that way.
Ty squints at the premium deadbolt lock that Sean made me install once we started dating. “It’d take a real pro to pick that lock. Can’t be popped with a credit card or a screwdriver.”
Our gazes meet over the significance. The thief came in with a key.
“Who has a key to the office?”
“You. Me. Jill. And I have a spare at home.” I knead my eyes trying to picture where it is. “But I’m not sure where it is. In my condo, I kept it in the junk drawer in the kitchen. But since we moved into the house....”
“Anybody else?”
“Uhm...Adrienne, I think. I never actually asked her to return the office key when she quit.”
Ty jabs his index finger at me. “Who knew that you got a way cool designer dress?”
“I’ve told a couple people—Natalie, my pregnant friend Katie. I’m sure Deirdre and Adrienne and Jill and Maura have all told people about it too. After all, scoring that dress was an incredible coup.” In short, scores of people could know I possess a valuable designer wedding gown. But how many of them would know I’d been storing it here? And how would a friend of a friend get into my office with a key? I sink into the old ratty armchair in the middle of the room. “It never occurred to me that someone would steal the dress. But I was crazy for keeping it here. I’d never dream of leaving twenty grand in cash or jewelry lying around here.”
“We gotta safe for small stuff like that. You couldn’t jam your dress in there.” Ty lays a hand on my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. “Don’t blame yourself, Audge. This is low. Like stealing a hot toy from a little kid. How could a girl be happy on her wedding day knowing she stole some other bride’s dress?”
Yeah, how? It’s one thing to shoplift from a store or cheat in an online order, but would the kind of bride who knows the value of designer dresses be willing to risk getting arrested right before her wedding by breaking into an office to steal a dress? And then I remind myself again: the thief didn’t break in.
And I begin to suspect it wasn’t a bride who did this.
Ty narrows his eyes. “You got a suspicion on who did this.”
Is my face that easy to read? “No. I could be wrong. I’m sure I’m totally wrong.”
“Give.”
I rake my fingers through my hair. “Terry, Sean’s brother. I, I don’t want to believe it’s him, but...”
“He’s the skinny one who’s always talkin’ smack? He seems different from the rest of them.”
Ty has been to a few parties at my house and has met Sean’s family, but he doesn’t know any of them well, except Adrienne. But as always, Ty is perceptive. He can read people at a glance.
“He is. He’s the youngest of the brothers. He’s the only one in the family who’s not athletic. He’s artistic, and that’s not a quality that’s valued in the Coughlin clan.”
Ty rolls his eyes. “There you go, makin’ excuses for people who act like dicks. You think he ripped you off, or not?”
I take a deep breath. “Terry’s always broke. And he just got laid off from his job. Again. He resents other people’s success. He takes pleasure in his siblings’ failures. Well, maybe that’s a little harsh. But I just saw Terry at lunch, and he seemed pleased about this conflict over who’s going to perform our wedding ceremony. It’s like our problem takes the family heat off him.”
I pace around the office, gathering steam. “And it seems to me Terry was pleased that Brendan and Adrienne were splitting up...like their troubles somehow made him look better. But now it looks like Brendan and Adrienne are patching up their marriage, and Sean and I just bought a house. I think Terry resents that I have a successful business. He’s tried freelancing as a graphic artist and even though he’s very talented, he can’t hang on to any of his customers because he’s always missing deadlines.”
“Sounds like a motive. Would he know how to sell the dress?”
“He’s always selling stuff on Craig’s List and eBay, so he could figure it out. Getting the dress free and reselling it for big bucks would appeal to him. Terry lives by the theory that there’s gotta be a better way to make money than working for it.”
“But how would he get in here?”
I bite my bottom lip. This feels like a traitorous accusation. “He could’ve gotten the key from Adrienne’s keychain. Everyone was together for Mother’s Day at Sean’s parents’ house. At one point, Adrienne’s keys were missing and we all had to search for them and Terry’s the one who found them. She’s got a gazillion keys, and since she doesn’t use our office key anymore, she wouldn’t even notice if it were missing.”
“So let Sean handle getting the dress back.”
“I can’t tell him! If I’m wrong, the whole family will hate me forever—accusing one of their own. And if I’m right—” I shut my eyes and picture the fireworks—“Sean will never forgive Terry. But Sean’s mother would never abandon one of her sons. So there will be a massive rupture in the family with everyone taking sides. Oh, God—why couldn’t I marry another only child?”
Ty nudges me with his bright orange sneaker. “You always sayin’ how lonely it was bein’ an only child. I thought you liked all those big parties Sean’s family’s always havin’.”
“I do!” I run my fingers through my hair. “Until I don’t. There’s always a tipping point when his family gets to be too much. Maybe I simply don’t understand how big families work. I could be totally wrong about Terry. I probably am.”
“I dunno, Audge. You been on the money ‘bout people more times than not.”
Maybe. But if being right creates more unhappiness, what’s the point? “It’s not worth destroying the family over a dress. I’ll just buy the dress from J. Crew.”
“How you gonna walk down the aisle in that? Deirdre, Jill, and Adrienne all know what the real dress looks like.”
“Oh, right.” I slap my forehead. “Well, I could say that I decided to sell the designer dress to make the profit myself.”
“And then you gotta produce the extra cash and use it for your remodeling, or Sean will ask questions.”
I pace between the desks. “I don’t know, I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”
“Imma get that dress back for you, Audge.” Ty heads for the door.
“No, Ty! You can’t confront Terry. He’ll know that I put the idea in your head.”
“Who said anything about confrontation?” He pauses on the front walk. “I’m talkin ‘bout investigation.”
“Don’t do anything crazy. It’s only a dress.” But my words blow away on the wind.
Chapter 11
“What’s wrong?”
Sean has just walked through the back door. I’m sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of tea in front of me. Ethel lies across my feet.
“Huh? Nothing. Why?”
His eyes narrow. “Ethel didn’t greet me at the door. She’s guarding you. She does that when you’re upset.”
Mister dog psychology! I slide my feet out from under Ethel’s warm, soft belly.
Sean strides across the kitchen. Standing in front of me, he puts one finger under my chin and tilts my head up. “You’ve been crying. What happened?”
Damn! I stopped crying half an
hour ago, but I never washed my face. It sucks being engaged to a detective.
My determination to cover up the theft cracks. I get up and throw myself into Sean’s arms. I hadn’t wanted to upset him, but sharing the burden feels good.
“My wedding dress was stolen from the office.”
“What? When?”
“Sometime between early yesterday morning and late afternoon today.”
“There was a break in? Did you report it?”
I look at him with the tears beginning to well up again. “No sign of forced entry,” I whisper.
Sean jerks away. “The thief entered with a key? Who has a key other than you and Ty?”
“Jill still has one because she helps out sometimes on the weekends. And....”
“Adrienne! Did Adrienne ever give back her key when she quit?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t make a big deal about getting it back. Things were so hairy right then, what with her fooling around and Brendan’s affair. It’s still on her keychain.“ I don’t mention how I think Terry could’ve taken it.
“Adrienne stole your dress! That bitch!”
“No, no—she can’t possibly have done it. She doesn’t need the money. She’s got a great new job, and she and Brendan are patching up their marriage.”
Sean’s face flushes an angry maroon. “She can’t bear to think of you in that designer gown. She doesn’t want you to look beautiful...more beautiful and fashionable than she thinks she is.”
This isn’t leading where I thought it would go. The idea that Terry would have easy access to Adrienne’s keys hasn’t even crossed Sean’s mind, even after all Terry said today at lunch. What happened to my master detective? I don’t want to come right out and accuse his brother, so I drop another hint. “This is all my fault. The dress is so valuable. I never should have left it in the office. I wouldn’t leave twenty thousand dollars in cash or jewelry there. It’s too tempting.”
Treasure Borrowed and Blue (Palmyrton Estate Sale Mystery Series Book 4) Page 5
