No Filter

by Heather Day Gilbert

  I wasn't sure why he was so interested in the lamp, but talking about it took my mind off the vision of Alice that kept playing out in my head. "Not very close, but sure. It was this green stained glass shade with big dragonflies, and their wings overlapped on the ends. There was some kind of metal used for the top of the lamp and for the kind of twisty base—it looked like copper, but maybe it was brass? And I think there was a swirl of that green glass in the base, too. All in all, it looked heavy." I began to speculate aloud. "Do you think the killer had to hide it for some reason, maybe DNA evidence? There's no way they could've carried that out without getting noticed," I mused.

  Dylan seemed to be hyperventilating. He snatched his phone from his jacket pocket and typed something, then flipped the screen out so I could see it.

  Pointing to a picture of a lamp that could have been the same one I saw, he asked, "Was it kind of like this?"

  "Yes! It was nearly exactly like that," I said.

  His pupils widened and he jabbed at the screen. "Macy, this is a Tiffany lamp. It's worth somewhere in the neighborhood of one hundred thousand dollars."

  "Well, that explains why the murderer didn't bash Alice in the head with it," I said.

  Dylan's face still registered complete surprise. It was as if an art find of this magnitude sent him reeling.

  I leaned on my steering wheel, wishing I could be home already. "So they must've killed her to steal the lamp. But why did Alice have a hundred thousand dollar lamp sitting smack dab on her desk, just as pretty as you please?"

  "It certainly wasn't part of her decorating budget," Dylan said darkly. "She never mentioned owning a lamp like that, or I would've advised her to decorate her office around it."

  "Maybe it was a new addition," I said. I made a mental note to ask Bo if he'd seen it when he'd inspected the room during our Thrive at Life class.

  I was ready to get home to Coal, who was no doubt languishing in my absence. "I'd better get going," I said. "Don't worry—I'll call the police and let them know that a Tiffany lamp went missing from her office."

  Dylan nodded. "Good. I'll check in with my fellow gallery owners, see if there's any buzz that a lamp like that was stolen lately."

  We agreed to text each other if we found out anything. My goodbye was lackluster, to say the least, but I was in no mood for flirtation. Alice had been killed, and it was likely connected with the lamp I might've been the only one to see.

  I parked under a streetlight and walked up to my house. A man in a hoodie jogged toward me and I shoved my hand in my pocket, palming my knife.

  "Sis," he called out, and I realized it was Bo, taking a very late run.

  "What're you doing out at this hour?" I asked, opening my gate.

  He pounded up to my side, not even winded from his exertion. "I could ask you the same question, Miss 'I'm Staying Home to Watch Movies Tonight.'"

  I sighed. "You might as well come in. I went to Ivy Hill for an oyster roast—long story—but some things happened and I want to talk them out with you."

  Bo followed me into the house, where Coal nearly knocked me down with his exuberance. After hanging my jacket in the closet, I came back into the kitchen to find Bo rummaging in the fridge.

  "I'm hungry," he said plaintively. "I'll make us some grilled cheese and tomato soup."

  That was Auntie A's favorite comfort food—the thing she'd always fix when we were coming off a stomach bug. My brother could tell I was rattled.

  I thought about Bo's late run. "Wait a second...you weren't patrolling outside my house, were you?"

  He shrugged, his back to me as he buttered the bread. "Maybe."

  I rolled my eyes. "I can take care of myself. Case in point, I was at the scene of a murder tonight and I didn't get killed."

  He whipped around. "A murder? At an oyster roast? Explain yourself."

  I elaborated on the events of the day, starting with my mystery text from Doc Schneider and working my way up to Alice's strangulation. Then I shared about how Dylan and I had worked out that Alice had a Tiffany lamp on her desk that went missing after her murder.

  By the time I wrapped up my tale, Bo had finished making the food. Grabbing our plates and bowls, we made our way to the table and sat down. Coal followed me over and sprawled on the floor a respectful distance away. Although he eyeballed every bite that moved toward our mouths, he didn't beg.

  "So, let me get this straight," Bo said. "Alice was boldly displaying a hundred thousand dollar lamp on her desk before she was killed." He pointed his spoon at me. "It had to be a new lamp, mind you, because it wasn't there when I checked her office the other night."

  "I was going to ask you that," I nodded and took a bite of my sandwich. It was perfectly toasted on the outside, the cheese melted and gooey on the inside.

  Bo continued. "And she left her office door wide open during a huge party."

  "Right. At the time, I thought it was really strange, especially if she stored the center's money in there."

  He sipped a bit of soup. "Do you recall Alice leaving the oyster roast?"

  I thought back. "She made an introduction, then she asked guests to sign up for the center's email because they had some kind of updates they couldn't share yet...do you think that had something to do with the lamp?"

  "Hard to tell," Bo said. He glanced at Coal, who was practically salivating as Bo brought his sandwich to his mouth.

  "Gerard trained him well," I said, then stopped short. Gerard. Gerard was the missing piece of this puzzle. "Bo, remember how Gerard and Alice were allegedly arguing over something? What if it was the lamp? And remember that rhino horn story...I mean, why would Isabella make something like that up? What if there was an actual rhino horn on Alice's desk for a short period of time? Hang on, I'm going to ask Dylan what that would be worth."

  I shot a text to Dylan, mentioning the carved rhino horn we'd heard Alice had at one time and asking what a real one would be worth.

  His response was fast: "They could go anywhere in the 300,000 dollar range if they have older carvings. I looked it up after our date, because I found it so hard to believe Alice would've gotten her hands on one."

  And therein was the problem—Alice had items in her office at various times that were likely worth more than her job paid in a year. How?

  I reported Dylan's rhino horn estimate to Bo and he whistled. "They had to be black market—likely stolen goods. Do you think Gerard or Alice were thieves?"

  I thought about what Gerard had told Doc Schneider. "He said he was transporting things for someone," I said. "I'm betting he wasn't the mastermind behind this. Alice must've been in on it, too...maybe storing items in her office until someone could pick them up?"

  "And they might have fought over their cut of the cash?"

  Coal's head bobbed from Bo to me as we spoke. He was obviously still hoping for a tiny bite of food, but I didn't want him to get used to eating table scraps. I jumped up and grabbed a doggie treat, which he tugged from between my fingers and swallowed in one delicate move.

  "I don't even think he chewed that," Bo marveled.

  "I know." I walked over to the stove. "I'm making hot water for tea—do you want some?"

  "Sure, do you have any of that oolong left?"

  "Sure do." I busied myself brewing a pot of tea, hoping my imagination would fill in the blanks on the art fencing operation.

  But Bo's brain was whirring along faster than mine. "She was hiding things in plain sight," he said, his voice tinged with wonder. "She didn't think anyone would recognize the value of her office decor...and they didn't."

  "Except Isabella," I said. "She glimpsed the carved rhino horn and was the first to tell the world about it. Or at least her bestie, Mary Anne." I set a couple of mugs and spoons on the table and took the lid from my sugar bowl.

  "But didn't you say she was talking about it at Barks & Beans? Not exactly a private venue, you know? Maybe someone other than Mary Anne and you overheard her."

  I poured t
he golden tea into our mugs and stirred sugar into mine. "I can't remember who was there that day, because that was right after we opened. But Isabella did have loose lips, talking on about Gerard and how wonderful he was and how weird Alice's office decor was..."

  Bo blew on his tea and finally took a hesitant sip. "This is worth following up on, for sure."

  "I planned to call Detective Hatcher in the morning," I said. "It's too late tonight."

  "He's still wrapping up a murder scene, so I'm sure he's awake. But I'll be happy to make a few calls, too," Bo said seriously.

  I laughed at his important tone, nearly snorting tea up my nose. "Who are you going to call? The president of the coffee company?"

  Bo's blue eyes met mine. "Actually, that's exactly who I'm going to call." He paused, studying me as if trying to decide if he should expound on his cryptic response.

  "I don't get it—what do you mean?" I asked. Sure, I was on edge from the events of the night, but there didn't seem to be any way the coffee company could be involved in things.

  Bo gave a slow nod as if he'd reached a decision. His eyes didn't leave my face. "Now I'm going to tell you something kind of shocking, something I haven't told anyone, so I need you to stay calm."

  I instantly sobered. I'd only heard Bo use this particular tone a few times in my life, and each time, the news he'd shared had turned my world upside down.

  "I'm listening," I said, taking a steadying drink of tea.

  "The president of Coffee Mass is actually my boss, but not in the coffee company. Coffee Mass is a front."

  "A front for smuggling!?" I shouted. Coal gave an anxious yip and loped over to my side, pressing his body against my thigh.

  Bo gave a vigorous shake of his head. "No, of course not. Nothing like that." He grinned. "Don't you know I'm one of the good guys?"

  I could hardly sit still. Waving my hands about like a hyper cheerleader, I said, "Well, what is it then? Tell me right now!"

  "We're DEA agents, sis." He kept his eyes on my face, waiting for my reaction.

  I felt like someone had sprayed my entire body with liquid nitrogen. My lips were frozen shut and I couldn't offer any response.

  Correctly taking my silence as his cue to explain, Bo said, "Coffee Mass is a vehicle that allows us to develop a network with overseas coffee growers. Drugs and arms dealers often hide their products in coffee shipments, so it's important to have informants on the inside. What you and Auntie A didn't know is that soon after I got out of the Marines, I joined the DEA."

  Suddenly, a lot of things swam into focus for me. "All those times I called at work and you didn't pick up?"

  He nodded. "I was often doing recon work in other countries. Having a California home base worked well, since it gave me some distance from your questions. Any missed calls could be chalked up to the time zone difference, long work hours, that kind of thing."

  "So you played me," I said bitterly.

  Bo frowned. "No, sis. I protected you. You didn't need to know what I did."

  "Are you still a DEA agent?" I had a hundred other questions where that one came from.

  "Short answer is no, I'm out of the DEA—retired early, which is why I can tell you now."

  "So was Tara really the reason you left your job?" I knew it was a personal question, but I needed to know.

  "Yes, she was," Bo said. "I couldn't work with Tara anymore, thanks to the liar who set me up. After a lot of sleepless nights trying to figure out what happened, I believe one of the arms dealers I was getting close to set me up. He knew that a breakup with Tara would effectively derail me because I had to work with her every day."

  My tea was getting cold, but I took a gigantic swig of it, finally tasting the sugar that had sunk to the bottom. "You mean they do that kind of thing? Interfere with your personal life like that?"

  "Not typically, but this dealer is more...let's say sadistic than most. He felt I needed to be stopped, and he probably had me followed and discovered how important Tara was to me. I'm just thankful he didn't put out a hit on her."

  "Or you," I said. Tears welled up, and I rubbed at my eyes to try to hide them.

  Respecting my distress, Bo picked up our dishes and carried them to the sink. "Listen, I'll contact my old boss and find out who needs to be made aware of a possible fencing operation—besides the local P.D., of course. Why don't you call Detective Hatcher tonight and let him know what you figured out?"

  My stomach sank. "Oh, sure, well...I still think tomorrow will be better—"

  "What are you hiding?" Bo closed the dishwasher and looked at me. "You're hedging, Macy."

  I stood and Coal did too, his tail thudding against my leg. I stepped forward to avoid the unintended beatdown and petted his head.

  "I was near the scene of the crime," I said wearily. "I'm a suspect, Bo."

  19

  "You can't mean that," Bo said. "No detective in his right mind would suspect you."

  "I was meeting with the doctor on the sly," I said. "It does look shady, if nothing else."

  Bo plopped down on the couch. "You told the detective why you were meeting Doctor Schneider. You told him the truth about seeing Alice's office door open and what you saw missing from the crime scene—and what was new. I don't think you have to worry, sis."

  I glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight and I hadn't even thought about tomorrow. "Bo, we have to get sleep because tomorrow's Taste of our Towns! We have so much to do!" I felt panicky.

  He waved his hand. "Try to relax. I already set up the kennel at our booth. We'll just need to get all the coffee things set up in the morning, and Milo and Kylie will help with that. Charity will bring her pastries, and Jimmy will be around to help you out. It's all under control."

  I felt somewhat better, but not by much. It had been a ridiculous day all around.

  Bo jumped up. "Right. I can tell you're zapped. Get straight to bed, and I'll meet you at seven. I know you were planning on six, but the event doesn't even start until eleven, and that'll give you a little extra time to sleep."

  "Thanks, bro," I said, grateful for a slight reprieve. "Could you walk Coal, then lock up for me on your way out?"

  "Of course, what are brothers for?" he asked.

  I wanted to say my brother was good for subterfuge and busting drug smugglers, but I refrained. I was still smarting a little from the realization that he'd hidden his true job from me all these years, but at the same time, I understood why he'd done it. At least the truth had finally come out, and it might even help us figure out who killed Alice and Gerard.

  I woke to find my feet were asleep because Coal had moved onto my bed in the night and stretched out across them. I tried to rub life back into them, enduring the tingling sensation that was necessary before I could move them again.

  "Thanks a lot, big boy," I said, trying to glare at Coal. His winsome eyes were focused on me as if pleading for forgiveness, and when he inched closer to lick my hand, I gave in. I couldn't be upset with Coal for long. At every turn, he made it clear that I was his life and that he liked to see me happy.

  Of course he was only a dog, but in many ways he was the exact opposite of my ex. Jake had lived for himself and only pretended he wanted to please me. In the end, the flowers and clothes and purses he bought were only ways to stroke his own ego with the consequent praise I gave him. It was embarrassing how grateful I'd been for the gifts that had meant nothing to him.

  I sighed and pulled out a pair of dark denim jeans and a mint green shirt. It was one of my favorite colors because of how it set off my pale complexion with its sprinkling of freckles, and oddly enough, when I wore green, it made my eyes look more blue.

  Thankfully, the humidity was lower and my hair looked somewhat stylish. Soon, I'd need to find a new stylist who knew how to work with thick waves like mine.

  Summer called to say she'd bring the puppies straight to our booth, so I arranged to meet her there in thirty minutes. I went down and unlocked the interior cafe door
. In the dog petting area, I gathered things I'd need to keep the pups occupied and stuffed them into a tote. It was clear that Bo had already been in to move coffee machines and cups.

  Back at my place, I waited until Bo showed at seven. He was quiet—probably tired—so I didn't jabber as much as usually did.

  Kylie came out to greet us when we arrived at our booth, and I was shocked to see that she wore jeans with no holes in them and a dress blouse that completely covered her dragon tattoo, except for the bit going up the back of her neck. She'd had her dark hair cut into a smooth bob, so instead of a biker babe, she looked positively French now. She wore her combat boots, but somehow they seemed to complement the look. As she helped Bo tote coffee items to the table, I made a mental note to ask who her hairstylist was.

  Summer whizzed up in her car, popping out quickly with the pups on the leash. Both pups squatted in the grass to go to the bathroom.

  "Sorry about that," she said. "They really don't have much bladder control at this stage."

  We got them arranged with pillows and toys in the large kennel. Summer asked how Coal was doing, and I told her I'd finally located the vet Gerard had used—he was in another county—and they'd said Coal was up to date on shots and that he'd likely been fixed since he carried the gene for hip dysplasia, although thankfully, he wouldn't get it himself.

  "That's a shame," Summer said. "He would've produced some gorgeous pups."

  Jimmy arrived, and he and Summer fell into a conversation about the cows his father-in-law planned to show at the state fair next year. It shouldn't have surprised me how knowledgeable Summer was about cattle since she grew up Mennonite, but it did.

  I worked alongside Bo and Kylie to get everything set up, and before long, Milo and Charity joined us. Bo demonstrated how to make a special maple syrup latte for the day, and Charity unveiled her goodies, which included more of the éclairs Alice had put in a request for. I felt a pang of sorrow that the center director had never gotten over to the cafe to taste one—whether she'd been an art fencer or not, everyone should get a chance to taste a really great éclair before they die.