The Topaz Brooch

by Katherine Lowry Logan

  Rick pointed to Pete. “This is Pete Parrino. He’s also a former NYPD detective.”

  “Do you know Billie’s father?”

  “Only by reputation,” Rick said. “I understand he’s on his way here.”

  “He arrived thirty minutes ago. He’s in the restaurant with Billie’s ex, Franklin, and his husband, George.”

  Rick glanced at Pete. “Since we’re here, we should speak to Inspector Malone.”

  “I agree.”

  Rick turned his attention back to Morgan. “We’re interested in your conversations with Billie from the time you chased her down until you parted here in the lobby.”

  “I don’t know how that will help find Billie. We didn’t talk about anything except clients and catering.”

  “If you’ll start at the beginning, you might be surprised at how something innocent could prove to be instrumental in finding her.”

  Morgan put her phone aside and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Our presentation was How to Master Your Emotions and Build Resilience as a Successful Event Planner. Her part of the program was how to manage difficult clients.”

  Rick laughed. “I bet she was going to talk about Meredith Montgomery.”

  “Not by name, of course. But Billie’s experience with Ms. Montgomery was hard on her. If not for you, she said she would have quit the job.”

  “I did what I could, but when it comes to Montgomery Winery, Meredith can be demanding,” Elliott told him once that Meredith’s father always put the winery first, which meant he had ignored her. So her controlling personality came from trying to please her father.

  Rick opened his notepad. “The detective mentioned you talked about the business, New Orleans tours, drinking wine, and sitting out by the pool. Was there anything unusual going on with her business? Did she complain about any of her clients?”

  “Not a bit. Billie has a large group of senior citizens who keep her busy with book clubs, anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, and she’s growing her corporate clientele. But the seniors are the bulk of her business. She was looking for china at the estate sale.”

  “I understand she bought a brooch. Tell us about the jewelry,” Pete said. “Did she mention why she was drawn to it?”

  “It matched her ring. She loved the color, but I think what drew her to it was how old it was.”

  “Did she know how old?” Rick asked.

  Morgan shook her head. “No, but she sensed its history and wanted it, I think. But she would have walked away if Mr. Thompson hadn’t dropped his price.”

  “What else did you talk about?” Pete asked. “The detective mentioned New Orleans tours.”

  “I was interested in the Battle of New Orleans tour, but Billie said she had enough of that at West Point. She took a class one summer that explored the entire battlefield. The class had a name, but I can’t remember what she called it.”

  “A staff ride?” Rick asked.

  “Yes, that’s it. Billie said it was too much work for a summer class, but she learned a lot. She said she could give me the history in fifteen seconds. Instead of going on the tour, I could sit out by the pool, ogle hot guys, and drink wine.”

  “Do you remember her fifteen-second spiel?” Rick asked.

  “Something about the battle being the most lopsided military victory in history. It made a hero of Andrew Jackson. Humbled the British Army, which had just defeated Napoleon. Paved the way to Jackson’s presidency.”

  “You’ve got a good memory,” Pete said.

  “It’s usually not that good, but what she said pretty much matched what I’d read in the brochure, so I remember it.”

  “All I know about the Battle of New Orleans is from the song, ‘In 1814 we took a little trip…’”

  “Oh yeah. Me, too. ‘Along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Mississip…’” Then she looked away, her clenched jaw quivering slightly. “I’m so worried about her.”

  “We’re going to do everything we can to find her.” Rick checked his notepad, not because his memory required refreshing, but because Morgan needed a moment to regroup. “You mentioned her ex-husband. How do they get along?”

  “They’re good friends and occasionally work together. He’s devastated. He was so glad to see Billie’s father, hoping he could light a fire under the New Orleans police and motivate them to work harder to find her.”

  “You don’t by chance have a picture of him, do you?” Rick asked.

  “I took one of Inspector Malone and Franklin together to show the police in case they needed an ID.” Morgan scrolled through her photo app. “Here it is.” She held up her phone.

  “Would you mind texting that picture to me?”

  “Sure. Give me your number.”

  Rick reached for her device. “Why don’t I call myself? Then it’ll be in your call list.”

  When the text arrived with the picture, he stared at it for a long moment. Both men were casually dressed. Billie’s father was in his early sixties with graying hair. His back was straight, chest out, but his face gave away his true feelings. It was tight, strained with worry. The ex, though, was a pumped-up, abs-a-go-go, super body with biceps like beach balls, polished penny loafers, no socks, and parading a new haircut.

  What did Billie see in this guy? Rick didn’t like him at all.

  “Do Billie and Franklin ever compete for jobs?” Pete asked.

  “No, they have different clients.”

  “I understand Billie left her phone behind, but her purse was gone. Do you remember the size, shape, material? Or what she carried in it?”

  “Dark brown, leather with a shoulder strap, about a foot wide, a foot deep. Big enough to hold a pair of shoes and a bottle of water.”

  “Do you know what she carries in her purses? I know what my wife carries because I’ve had to dig through it so many times searching for keys.”

  “Just normal stuff. Kleenex, sanitizer, Chapstick, switchblade, Glock, mints. That kind of stuff.”

  He was almost struck dumb, but then remembered Billie was a former Army Ranger, so carrying a gun wasn’t so unusual. “Louisiana has an open carry law and concealed carry by permit only. I doubt Billie was openly carrying a Glock.”

  Morgan covered her mouth with her hand, hiding a snicker. “I just had a mental picture of Billie walking into the seminar packing a gun on her hip. “She has a concealed carry permit in California, but she didn’t bring her gun with her.”

  “What kind of knife did she carry?” Rick asked.

  “I’d call it a switchblade, but she called it a folding knife.”

  Rick stopped writing and looked up from his notepad. “Can you think of anything else she carried in her purse?”

  “Pen, notepad, cash, a credit card, business cards, chocolate, and occasionally a makeup case.”

  Rick jotted down the items. “What was she wearing?”

  “She went up to change. The skirt she’d worn earlier was on the bed, but the jacket and scarf were gone.”

  “How much time passed between when you left her until you went to her room?” Rick asked.

  “Forty minutes. Maybe forty-five, but not any longer than that.”

  “Did you notice anyone taking an interest in her or following her?” Pete asked.

  Morgan turned toward Pete. “If anyone had been following us, Billie would have noticed.”

  “I agree.” Rick sat back in his chair and tapped his fingers on his thigh. “Do you remember anything else you talked about?”

  “Mentioning her class at West Point was unusual. She doesn’t normally talk about the academy or the Army, and she doesn’t talk about Afghanistan.”

  “Why is that?” Pete asked.

  Morgan pulled her eyebrows into a frown. “Billie is sensitive about my husband being deployed and tries not to alarm me.” Morgan checked the time on her watch. “I promised friends I’d meet them for a late lunch.” She grabbed a leather business card holder from her purse and gave both Rick and Pete a card. “
I’ll be in town until tomorrow afternoon, but if you have questions later, call me.”

  She stood, and so did the guys. “I hope you find her.”

  Rick searched Morgan’s eyes and found them welling with tears. A lump tightened his throat and sat there like a rock. He wanted to tell her he thought they could bring Billie home, but this time he wasn’t so damn sure everything would work out. So he said nothing and offered what he could, a strangled smile.

  “It makes me sick thinking about—”

  He squeezed Morgan’s shoulder, and when she turned into him, he hugged her. “We’ll do everything we can to find her.”

  She stepped out of the embrace and swiped at the tears streaking down her face. “Thanks. I needed that.” She patted his arm, then walked away.

  Rick and Pete stood there and watched Morgan cross the lobby, her shoulders hunched. “Damn it, Pete. We’ve got to find Billie.”

  “Based on what’s happened before, all we’ll have to do is focus on Billie, and the diamond brooch will take us to where she is.”

  “Us?” Rick lifted his left eyebrow in silent skepticism. “Us? Did you really say that?”

  “That’s a rhetorical question, right?”

  “No, I want an answer. If I go after Billie, will you go with me?”

  “I meant it collectively. Not you and me, but all of us.”

  “It didn’t sound that way.”

  “Then clean out your damn ears. You know I can’t go on an adventure right now. I can’t leave Sophia and Lukas.”

  Rick didn’t blame Pete at all. If he had a wife and a young child, he’d never leave them. He tucked his notepad in his pocket. “Lining up a team isn’t today’s problem. At least we know Billie has a knife.”

  “Not much else in her purse will help her,” Pete said.

  “Are you kidding? You wouldn’t believe what my characters can do with chocolate and a makeup case.”

  Pete rolled his eyes. “Don’t even go there.” Then he laughed. “You’re assuming she’s read your books.”

  Rick posed with his hand over his heart. “Oh, ye of little faith. Three years ago, I gave Billie the first five books in the series. If she read them, she’ll know what to do with makeup.”

  “If you think she can escape a deadly situation by adding eye drops to clumpy mascara to make an explosive, you’re crazy.”

  “Okay, don’t believe me, but…” Rick dropped the thought when he spotted two people walking toward him. “The inspector and Billie’s ex are heading our way.”

  “You take the lead,” Pete said.

  Rick heaved a silent sigh. Morgan’s emotions had been tough to handle. He didn’t know if he could also manage a father’s worry without getting sucked into their black cloud.

  The inspector extended his hand. “Detective O’Grady, I’m Inspector Malone. I know your father well. How is he?”

  “He remarried a few years ago, sir, and now he’s a full-time grandfather. He couldn’t be happier. And it’s just plain O’Grady these days.” Rick nodded to Pete “This is former detective Parrino. He and my sister partnered for a decade.”

  The inspector shook Pete’s hand. “You and Detective JL O’Grady did a hell of a job with that drug bust. I know it took a toll on both of you, but the city appreciates what you did.”

  Pete took a deep breath; his eyes clouded briefly. “Glad to put that one behind us, sir.”

  The Inspector gestured toward Billie’s ex. “This is Franklin Taylor, my ex-son-in-law.”

  Rick acknowledged him but didn’t shake hands. He didn’t care whether the guy was gay or not, but the jerk had been dishonest with Billie, and that made Rick’s worry over what she was enduring right now ten times worse.

  “Thanks for being here,” the inspector said. “New York has the finest cops in the world. If this had happened in my city, a perp would already be in custody.”

  Instead of telling the inspector he was way off base, Rick said, “You’ll get no argument from me.” Rick pulled out his notepad again and checked his notes, not because he needed to, but because he needed a moment to think. “Have you been up to Billie’s room?”

  The inspector shook his head. “They wouldn’t let me in, but I’ve seen pictures. There was no altercation, no blood, no ransom note. It’s like she just vanished.”

  “What about her belongings? Will they release them to you?” Rick asked.

  “They said soon. Why?”

  “I wanted to see the brooch she bought at the estate sale. Did you hear it was also found on the floor when Philippe and Rhona Fontenot disappeared?”

  “That was mentioned. The police said there wasn’t anything unusual about the brooch or the box other than being antiques.”

  Rick wasn’t sure whether to mention his connection to the brooches but decided he had to push the issue. It might help him get his hands on the topaz. “My family has one just like it, except our stone is an amethyst.”

  “An amethyst? Your brooch was part of the tapestry in the jewelry box. Do you know who has the amber and ruby?”

  Admitting to knowing about the ruby would put the entire clan in greater danger. “I know someone interested in the collection and Pops plans to sell them his. The money will give him the freedom to travel and whatever else he wants to do.”

  The inspector’s face had a suppressed glow of excitement. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Rick gave the inspector his business card. “We’ll be in New Orleans as long as it takes to find Billie. Call if you get any leads, and I’ll do the same.”

  “I have a question, O’Grady. Why are you putting your life on hold to find my daughter?”

  “I met Billie a few years ago when she catered an event at Montgomery Winery. I was very attracted to her, but she was married, and I was seeing someone. Things have changed since then.”

  There was a flash of a father’s pride in the inspector’s expression. Rick had never asked a father for his daughter’s hand in marriage, but he hoped if he ever did, his future father-in-law would have a similar expression. “Thank you, O’Grady. I appreciate you being here. Give your father my regards.”

  Rick nodded to the inspector and Billie’s ex, then he and Pete left the lobby.

  “You handled that well,” Pete said.

  “I decided to make the connection to the brooch. If the inspector knew Pops had one and was considering selling it, the inspector might take special care of Billie’s. We’ll have to get her back before we can take possession of it.”

  “He’ll sell it to you. I saw it in his eyes. He’d rather have the money than the brooch.” Pete hailed a taxi. “I’m going to Jackson Square to find Sophia. You coming with me or going to the rental house?”

  Rick walked around to the other side of the taxi. A car honked, and he flattened himself against the vehicle. “Shit. Slow down!” He jumped in next to Pete.

  “Guess this means you’re going with me.”

  “If I can stay alive. No point in breaking up a good thing just yet. We can drink a beer and take in the sights while Sophia sketches. We’ve still got two hours before we’re supposed to meet for dinner.”

  “Jackson Square,” Pete told the cab driver. “I’ll text Sophia and let her know we’re on the way.” Pete sent the text, then tossed his phone back and forth between his hands while he waited for a response. After a minute, when he didn’t get one, he sent a second text. “She must be involved in her sketch and can’t hear her phone. I’ll text Remy too.” Pete sent the message and stared at his phone. Remy didn’t respond either.

  “Call Remy. I’ll send David and Kenzie a text,” Rick said.

  David immediately responded: Haven’t heard from Remy in an hour.

  Kenzie responded: Sophia and Remy went to Café Du Monde for coffee and beignets.

  “Remy’s not answering,” Pete said.

  Rick leaned forward and said to the cabbie, “Café Du Monde on Decatur Street.”

  “Where’s that?” Pete asked.<
br />
  “At Jackson Square. That’s where Kenzie says they were going.”

  “God, if anything has happened to Sophia.”

  “Relax. The café is always crowded. Maybe they can’t hear their phones.” To the cabbie, Rick asked, “How far away are we?”

  “Five minutes,” the cabbie said.

  When the cab stopped, Rick tossed bills onto the front seat and jumped out. “Let’s go.” He and Pete jogged over to the café. There was a line waiting to get in. “Do you have your dupe shield?”

  “Always.”

  “Get it out.” Rick held his high for everyone to see. The first year on the force, he followed the advice of the officer he partnered with to get a fake badge. The phony one was slightly smaller but otherwise authentic. Losing the real thing meant a mound of paperwork and a hefty penalty—as much as ten days’ pay. When he retired, he surrendered his real badge but still carried his dupe shield for circumstances like this.

  “Police. Police.” The line thinned, and they entered the café. “Go left,” he told Pete.

  “Can I help you?” a waiter asked.

  “We’re looking for a tall, dark-haired man and a petite blonde. They came here an hour ago, and now they’re needed at the hospital.” The lie seemed the most natural explanation so others wouldn’t be alarmed.

  The waiter stepped aside. “If you don’t see them in here, check the outside seating.”

  Rick rushed through the café and stood at the doorway, looking over the crowded outside seating area. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a waving hand. It was Remy. Rick looked behind him for Pete. Seeing him, Rick pointed.

  Pete quickly joined him. “Where are they?”

  Rick nodded in their direction.

  “I’m going to beat the shit out of Remy,” Pete said. “And shake some sense into Sophia. She needs to understand all our lives are in danger.”

  Rick found his voice. “If anyone understands the danger, Sophia does. She’ll kick you in the nuts if you go out there with that attitude. Let’s go outside and walk around to where they’re sitting. Give us a chance to cool off.”

  A man approached them wearing a white shirt and a Café Du Monde paper hat. “Is everything all right, officers?”