A Dickens of a Crime

by Phyllis H Moore

  As she turned onto the main street, she spotted a figure dressed in jeans and a hoodie, the hood pulled up over a ball cap. Meg slowed, staying well behind the person on foot, before pulling to the shoulder and parking. They never turned to look behind them, but she was certain it was the same person Tom captured in his photos, the person she spotted the previous morning.

  The thing that struck her about it was the person’s narrow shoulders. Their gait was slightly masculine, but Meg would swear, it was a female.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  AN ELASTIC BANDAGE on the left arm was the clue; it was Giselle. Meg honked the horn and waved as she pulled up behind the hooded walker. “I thought that was you. Isn’t this a coincidence? Hop in, sweetie, and I’ll give you a ride.”

  “Oh, hi, Mrs. Miller. I didn’t know you lived here. I’m just walking for exercise.” Her voice cracked and she stumbled over the words.

  “Come have a cup of tea with me, Giselle. I’d love to catch up with you. My street’s actually a few blocks over.”

  Giselle hesitated and shot glances down the street.

  “Well, I guess I could warm up a little.”

  “Jump in. It’s not far.” Meg didn’t want Giselle to get away. She had a hunch that if she could talk with her one-on-one, the younger woman might relax and be more forthcoming.

  Giselle opened the door and got in the car. Meg smiled and immediately told the young woman about LaRue. “She’ll come running out the door the minute I open it, but before I can get the tea made, she’ll be back scratching at the screen, wanting inside.” She remembered the animal rescue posts on Giselle’s social media page.

  Once at Meg’s, they were seated at the kitchen table, Giselle stealing glances at her watch and then texting when LaRue did indeed scratch at the back door. Meg let her in, and the fluffy cat immediately jumped into Giselle’s lap.

  “I’m an animal person. They seem to know it and come to me.”

  Meg watched while LaRue allowed Giselle to stroke her head and behind her ears, closing her eyes and lifting her nose in the air as if she was the recipient of a glorious massage.

  “She doesn’t normally take to strangers. I would say you are definitely an animal person.” Meg was aware that Giselle was more at ease; her body language had changed and her face took on a slight smile. Only a gentle spirit would attract an animal like that.

  Giselle gazed at LaRue with kind, sad eyes. “Geneva’s a dog person. I like dogs, but cats are my favorite.”

  “I’m partial to cats too. They’re less maintenance in a way. We always had a dog when Dorie was growing up.” Meg turned from the tea preparation to talk directly to Giselle. “When Hilde died while Dorie was off at college, we never got another dog. I didn’t get LaRue until Paul passed. She’s good company. Do you have a cat?” Meg turned back to preparing the tea.

  “No, I don’t have any animals of my own. I wish I did.” Meg could hear the desire in Giselle’s words.

  “I got LaRue from the shelter when she was just a kitten. Something made me stop there one day.” Meg dipped the tea bags into the mugs, her body angled toward Giselle. “I thought I might volunteer or something since I had time on my hands after I retired, but instead of signing up, I brought LaRue home with me.”

  Meg placed the mugs on the table, taking the seat across from Giselle.

  “She’s a lucky cat.” Giselle picked up the mug and blew over the hot tea, taking a slow sip.

  “Well, I’m glad you think so. Sometimes I wonder what she thinks. LaRue has a habit of turning her back on me and giving me the cold shoulder.”

  Giselle laughed out loud. “That’s what I love about cats, their attitude.”

  “I was at your dad’s house today.” Meg had been considering if she should mention Brian then decided to see where it led. “He seems to be adjusting okay. I took a casserole and some cookies over. He didn’t mention that you were in town.”

  “He doesn’t know I’m here. I’ve been in town for a while, but I don’t want him to know. Geneva and I don’t want anything to do with him. He’s not our dad. He never has been.”

  “Oh, I see. I didn’t know you had other family here.”

  Giselle’s face changed; she stopped stroking LaRue. “I’m not staying with any family. We don’t have relatives still alive in this town. Well, unless you call the church family. I guess you could say it’s a sort of family.” Giselle’s demeanor was changing again, her shoulders hunched as she released LaRue, allowing her to jump to the floor. She pushed the cooling mug of tea away from her and slumped back into the chair. “I’m staying with someone from the church.”

  “Oh, okay. I was surprised to see you because I knew you and Geneva were anxious to get back to Dallas after the funeral.” Meg rubbed her cuticles, looking at them to take her gaze from Giselle’s face. The girl was chewing on her inner cheek with a vengeance, and it pained Meg to watch it.

  “I have to go.” Giselle stood, pushing the chair back with a scrape that made Meg wince. “Thanks for the tea.”

  “Sure, any time, sweetie. If you find yourself in the neighborhood, feel free to stop by. I don’t know how long you plan to stay, but I’d be happy to have you. Maybe we could have dinner some night.”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow. Bye.”

  Giselle was out the door without another word before Meg could cross the room and open the door for her.

  That was unsettling.

  Meg suspected someone had dropped Giselle off. She locked the back door, making her way to the dark front room to sit by the window and watch Giselle walk to the street, holding her phone in front of her as she texted. She crossed the street and stood, watching toward the south.

  It wasn’t two minutes before a car pulled up, a late-model Corvette. Meg was sure it was the church member Giselle had mentioned. She wrote the license plate number down, then went back to the kitchen, took a clean dish towel from the drawer, and picked up the mug Giselle had just drunk from. She placed it in a baggie and left it on the counter.

  LaRue wound herself around Meg’s legs as she stood at the sink washing her own mug, thinking about why Giselle was back in town. Neither of the girls seemed to want to be there when she talked with them before. She had no doubt it was Giselle who had rifled through her garbage. Maybe she wasn’t there by choice, but being instructed by one of the members of the church. Who could it be?

  Meg squirted a dollop of hand lotion into her palm and stood at the sink massaging it into her palms and up her arms. She felt a little uneasy about having Giselle in her kitchen sharing tea. Part of her wanted to protect the girl who was obviously troubled while the other part of her was a little afraid of Giselle. The fleeting moods and abrupt good bye were surprising, to say the least.

  After putting on her nightgown, she retrieved her legal pad from under her bathroom sink to make notes.

  She suspected the service van would be arriving the following day to tap her phone, recalling the urgency she felt when she suspected it was already tapped. Why did I have that feeling in the first place? There were several notions she had that didn’t seem to be based on anything she could verify. It was a little like the fragrance she kept referring to at Darrow House—no one else gave it a thought, but something was telling her to pay attention.

  I’m thinking too hard. Nothing is making sense.

  Meg didn’t want to be suspicious of Giselle. The young woman was Dorie’s age, but sitting across the table from her in the kitchen she was immature, shy, and uncertain, more like a girl of twelve. She had transformed right in front of Meg’s eyes. She could feel the young woman’s angst at the mention of family. Only LaRue had a calming influence over Giselle.

  Remembering Dorie’s text, Meg dialed her number. “Mom, I sent you an email with a link. I had a hunch and did a search of antique lockets on the internet. I’m pretty sure I’ve found yours. Just be sure to check your email and look at it.”

  “Okay, Sweetie. I’ll do that. I didn’t even think
about being able to research my locket.” They said good night.

  Meg made notes then turned off the lights before moving to the bureau in her bedroom and staring at the locket that had come back to her. She picked it up and opened it to look at her father. He looked back at her.

  Clicking on Dorie’s email, Meg found the link she’d forwarded. The photo of the locket was exactly like her own. However, the description named stones Meg wasn’t aware of. She knew the garnets were there, but this description listed diamonds and opals in a platinum setting. She went to the locket again, examining it. I suppose if I clean it, there might be more stones. She looked back to the web site and scrolled down. That’s when she noticed the value. No way.

  There was a faint scent, something misted from down the hall. Meg turned her head to look over her shoulder.

  TWENTY-NINE

  THE FRAGRANCE HAD faded when Meg left the house the following morning after the service van arrived. It only took a short time for her phone to be tapped, then they headed to Jean’s.

  Meg needed to pick up packages for the Blue Santa project and deliver them to the police station. Then she would meet Tom at the library. The donations were at the home of Wayne and Nell Landry, a stroke of luck to be able to make a personal visit.

  The parsonage of sorts was one of the grandest houses Meg had ever seen, the mansion situated on ten wooded acres within the city limits. She had been given the code for the automatic gate. The landscaped entrrance flaunted an impressive wreath that split down the middle when the gates swung away to allow her passage.

  Proceeding slowly down the tree-lined drive, the finely crushed granite crackled under her tires. She had rolled her window down to push the code into the keypad and left it there to enjoy the piney odor of the woods. The house was partly concealed from the road, but as she approached and turned a corner in the curving drive, it came into full view. It was massive, revealed through the trees like an English country estate, the exterior a light Austin-cut stone.

  Meg pulled into a circle drive winding toward the front entrance. The windows facing the drive were massive, mullioned with many panes. She could see lamps on inside among stately furnishings, certain the lighting and uncovered windows were part of the desired impact.

  “Hello, Meg,” Nell said, swinging the mammoth front door open. “Come in.”

  Meg was caught off guard as she looked up the steps to see Nell standing in the doorway. The door had leaded glass with a multitude of beveled panes, the filtered sunlight catching the bevels at just the right angle to throw prisms into the large foyer. There were tall side lights on each side of the door, also reflecting, creating an aura of radiance around the other woman.

  Meg did a double take as she focused on Nell. There was a scarf tied around her head, one of the long tails hung across her shoulder. It complimented the black sweater set and white wool pants. Meg stifled her gasp and caught the elaborate iron rail to steady herself.

  “This is a beautiful place, Nell. I enjoyed the wooded drive in.” Meg continued the climb to the porch and inhaled slowly when she reached the top.

  “Thank you, Meg. We enjoy it as well. The Lord is good to us.”

  Meg tried to smile, but she was afraid her insincerity was obvious. “We are all blessed in so many ways,” she managed to say. Her inner thoughts were less complimentary. She thought Wayne and Nell could have resided in a house of possibly three thousand square feet and been able to fund the entire Blue Santa project on their own. There’s no telling how good the Lord might feel.

  “Rhonda called me just now to tell me you’d be dropping by to pick up the packages. They’re right here.” Meg detected an accusation, but she ignored it.

  Nell led Meg into a massive room with a stone floor and a wall of windows facing a wooded yard. An enormous Christmas tree filled the corner beside the fireplace, various taxidermy hanging on a wall opposite. Meg glanced up at the exposed teeth and marble eyes of bobcats, raccoons, deer, and elk. There was also a stately wild turkey and feral hog.

  She looked back toward Nell, still in shock at seeing the scarf she was sure she had seen in pictures on social media.

  “I’d offer you coffee, Meg, but I’m in a rush to get changed and into town. I just drove in from Dallas this morning and had no idea anyone would be stopping by.” Yes, there it was again, another accusation. Well, Sister Landry, you’ll just have to bear with me for another few minutes.

  “That’s quite all right, Nell. I don’t have time to stay anyway, just need to get the packages and deliver so I can finish running my own errands”

  Meg took a moment to look at Nell. She had carefully applied lipstick, a strand of pearls that fell at the perfect spot on her neckline, and drop pearl earrings. She was very well put together to have just driven in from Dallas. She had also taken great care to stage the lighting in her home for Meg’s arrival. Meg saw no one there to assist her with housework or landscaping, but she was sure a house of that size would require such help.

  Later, in the car and driving toward the gates, Meg thought. Is it the same scarf? How could that be?

  Meg couldn’t wait to get to the library to meet with Tom. “This has been quite the couple of days, Tom. First, let me give you this.” They were seated at a small table in the rare books room. Meg pulled the plastic bag containing the mug from her purse. “Giselle is the person who’s been searching my garbage. I caught her walking in a nearby neighborhood and invited her in for tea. That’s the mug she drank from. I thought you might want it for DNA or something. She was dressed exactly like the photos you showed me. Here’s the license plate of the Corvette that picked her up after she left my house.”

  Tom took the paper from Meg, his eyes widened. “Hal drives a Corvette.”

  Meg rolled her eyes and nodded. “Giselle was acting weird. She told me she was staying with a church member in town, not Brian. She and Geneva aren’t speaking to Brian and she didn’t want him to know she was in town. She seemed sad and withdrawn. I felt sorry for her and feared her at the same time, if that makes sense.”

  “I think it’s wise to be wary of her, especially if she’s showing up at your house like that.”

  “I’m certain she had no plan to come inside for tea. She was in a nearby neighborhood and probably would’ve kept walking if I hadn’t honked. I think it caught her off guard. I wasn’t going to let her get away with stalking me after I recognized who she was and her clothing.”

  “This is good information. Thanks.” Tom held the plastic bag with the mug in front of him. “This could come in handy. That was quick thinking on your part.”

  “There’s something else I want to mention. This morning, I stopped to pick up some donations for the toy drive. Nell Landry greeted me at the door with what looked like the exact same scarf in those pictures I showed you of Giselle and Lena.”

  “Are you sure? What makes you think that?”

  Meg’s heart sank. It dawned on her she could have encouraged Nell to allow her to take a photo in front of the tree with all the gifts. It would have been the perfect ploy to capture her wearing the scarf. One of these days I’ll think of the technology at my fingertips.

  “It was the same print, same colors, and same size. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s Hermés. There’s a distinctive texture to those silk scarves, and the colors are saturated, deep. They’re not cheap. Paul gave me one for one of our big anniversaries. Dorie loved it, so I gave it to her the Christmas after her daddy died. She and I used to go into the store in Dallas and daydream. She wears that scarf all the time, whereas I was a little afraid of it.” Meg chuckled, remembering her hesitancy to wear the scarf because she didn’t want to soil it.

  “There’s an art to a scarf,” Meg pointed out. “Many women are afraid of them, like me. I think it takes courage. Seeing the scarf in person, I would swear it’s the same one in those photos.”

  Meg would never mention it to her husband, but after she tried to tie the scarf several times, she foun
d it bulky and difficult due to the texture. “Nell’s tended to slide on her, so I’m certain it was Hermés.

  “I wonder how Nell Landry ended up with it. This just gets more curious, doesn’t it?” Tom said.

  “It certainly does,” Meg agreed. “My instinct tells me that church is involved in all this somehow.”

  Tom nodded, but he didn’t confirm Meg’s thoughts.

  “So now that I’ve seen Nell in that scarf, I’m not so anxious about Brian agreeing for us to take donations from Lena’s closet. If he calls me about it, I’ll follow up with him, but I’m not going to pressure him. I’m almost certain that scarf was on Nell’s head this morning, it’s not likely to be in Lena’s closet. And another thing, she was anxious for me to leave. Nell didn’t want me spending time at her house for some reason.”

  “You have good instincts. I’m sure there was something,” Tom said.

  “Oh, and I think I might know why Lena wanted my locket.”

  Tom cocked his head. “What do you think it was?”

  “I’m going to clean it good, but Dorie forwarded a link to me and I think it’s an Edwardian piece set in platinum. The value listed on an antique jewelry site is over five thousand dollars.”

  THIRTY

  RITA WAVED MEG over to the checkout desk after Tom left the library. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Meg, and I don’t want to know. A guy named Hal came in here while you two were back there. He was looking for Tom. I hadn’t seen him go back, so I said I couldn’t help him. Then he asked if I’d seen you, and I told him you were working on a project. He left in a huff.”

  “Thanks for telling me, Rita. That’s good to know. He’s not one of my favorite people.” Meg set her bag on Rita’s desk.