If that was Todd, why was he at a pawnshop in Glenwood Springs? If it was Todd, why hadn’t he noticed them at the sidewalk café just across the street? The street was wide and Winna admitted that she hadn’t noticed him either. That could be a weird coincidence or her imagination was working overtime. She had to force herself not to call Todd and ask if he was in Glenwood Springs last week. Instead, she called Emily, who most emphatically suggested a visit to ABC Pawn Brokers and Jewelers.
IN A STATE of high excitement, Winna, with Emily in the passenger seat, parked her car in downtown Glenwood Springs. They entered the small storefront and immediately found themselves in familiar surroundings: a long narrow room, windowless on both sides, under an embossed tin ceiling painted white, just like so many of the old stores on Main Street in Grand Junction. Shelves with TV sets, VCRs, record players, cameras, sets of china, vases, and musical instruments (mostly guitars) ran along the walls above long glass display cases full of watches, jewelry, and coins. Guns were artfully displayed on racks under the heads of antlered deer and elk. All these things had belonged to people who needed to raise cash. Winna felt as if she was intruding on other people’s secret misfortunes. She’d never been in a pawnshop before.
Emily was already at work, scanning the jewelry cases, looking for something familiar. She motioned for her mother to come. “You’d better get to work, Mom. I’m not sure I know what to look for.”
Side by side, they came to a shelf full of cameos and brooches. Next, they looked at dozens of rings. Just then, a man, the owner perhaps, approached from behind the counter. “Need some help, ladies?”
“I’m just wild about antique jewelry,” Winna blurted, wondering if she sounded as deceitful as she felt.
“We have lots of that. You want a ring or what?”
“Mom,” Emily said. “Look at these earrings.” She pointed to a pair of antique earrings with pale aqua stones.
Winna gasped. “Those are beautiful.” She recognized them as the zircon earrings from Juliana’s jewelry box. “These here,” she said, pointing for the benefit of the salesman, “what stone are they? It looks like zircons. What are you asking for these?”
“They came in just last week and I’ll have to get three hundred for them.”
“Ah, that much? You must think they are real. Do you have any diamonds—real ones?”
He took them to a case filled with diamond jewelry and, right away, she spotted the small diamond and pearl sunburst that Juliana used to pin to her suit collars and sometimes her felt hats. She jabbed Emily with one elbow and pointed. “I like that one.” She looked up at the man and smiled. “We won’t take up any more of your time today. Thanks for the help.” She grabbed Emily by the arm and they headed for the door.
“What are you going to do, Mom?”
“We are going to the police station and have them call Lieutenant Dougherty. They need to search Chloe’s house. Oh, my God, poor Chloe.”
43
THE CRYSTAL CAFÉ would not be crowded on a Tuesday afternoon. Winna had agreed to meet John there at one-thirty following the rush. They sat in a booth at the back. Todd Cody’s arrest and arraignment was their opening topic. John expressed his surprise and sadness. He had obviously misjudged one of his foremen.
Winna had been in court that morning, with Chloe at her side. They’d sat in the front row of the gallery behind the prosecution table. Todd stood beside his lawyer dressed in a dark business suit. He looked ominously innocent, his blond curls playing over and under his ears like a child’s. He kept his eyes forward. Not once did he turn his head to the right and look at his wife and sister-in-law.
The charge against him read felony burglary. The police had found boxes full of things from the house on Seventh Street in a crawl space at Chloe’s house.
When asked about the robbery, Todd pleaded “not guilty.” After a brief battle of words between the two lawyers, bail was denied and the defendant was remanded to custody. Chloe sobbed as Todd was led away in handcuffs—so traumatized that Winna cried with her.
Learning that Todd was her thief was not the last surprise. After his arrest, the police had entered his fingerprints into the FBI fingerprint database and came up with someone named Owen Robert Healey, wanted in Oklahoma City.
“He’s been a fugitive for six years,” Lieutenant Dougherty had said as Chloe and Winna sat with him in the kitchen at the house on Seventh Street.
“A fugitive from what,” Chloe said, dabbing at red eyes with a tissue. She had stayed with Winna ever since Todd had been arrested, sleeping in Poppa Ed’s old bedroom.
“He’s a suspect in a bank robbery in Oklahoma City—a policeman was killed. His prints were on file from ten years ago, when he was in prison for a string of robberies. He’s also been jailed for selling cocaine.”
Chloe could contain herself no longer. “I can’t believe all this. He was so sweet with me. It’s just impossible for me to understand.”
Winna took her hand. “For me too—we were all fond of him, honey.”
“We are also looking into the possibility that he might have been the one who put the arsenic in your scotch,” Dougherty said. “So far the evidence is all circumstantial.”
Chloe leapt up from her chair and ran from the room.
“She feels responsible,” Winna said. “I feel so bad for her.”
He looked away. “It’s tough all around, Mrs. Jessup.” He stood up, retrieving his briefcase from the kitchen table. “It’s going to be a lot harder to prove attempted murder, but we will do our best. I know the DA wants to proceed.”
WINNA HAD BEEN nervous about meeting John for lunch but thought it important that she did. Greeting him with reserve, she sympathized with him for not suspecting Todd.
“We were all fooled—especially poor Chloe. She is deeply hurt and deeply pissed. I’m glad they’ve got him in jail.”
“Let’s hope he is extradited to Oklahoma. Actually, Chloe is one lucky gal—she was also in danger,” John said.
“Chloe’s not feeling lucky. I’ve never seen anyone in so much pain. According to Lieutenant Dougherty, Todd—rather, Owen what’s-his-name—has been in prison for selling drugs and burglary charges. His father is in jail and his mother was a prostitute who was murdered some twenty years ago.”
John shook his head in disbelief. “A real menace disguised as a good ol’ boy.”
“A cute good ol’ boy. There’s more. The police have looked at what was left of the stair rail that caused my fall. Dougherty says it had been tampered with and then repainted. There were two other attempts on my life. But can we prove it was Todd?”
John was silent a moment. “It could be hard—this isn’t easy for me to take in.”
“He’s not the only menace in disguise.” Winna shot an accusing look at John.
John shifted his weight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Staring at her hands, she said nothing for a moment. She looked up. “I found my old emerald ring on your dresser.”
John paled, then diverted his eyes. “That last night—up at the house?”
“Yes, when I went through to your bathroom. What’s that about, John? My ring—did you steal it?”
“I doubt you’d understand.”
“Try me. I can be very understanding.”
“It’s simple, really.” John looked down. “I wanted you. I wanted the baby,” he paused and looked her hard in the eye. “How could you do that without even telling me—it was my only child.”
Winna winced as if he had struck her.
John was angry. “I stole your ring because I had nothing left of you.”
“I couldn’t have told you first. My mother didn’t tell me why we were going to Denver. What we did was an act of desperation. I know I hurt you terribly. You don’t know how long I’ve grieved over this.”
Suddenly out of words, Winna looked down at her hands and shook her head.
“John, we aren’t kids anymore. I’d fallen in lov
e with you again. Why didn’t you tell me how you felt? Why didn’t you return the ring?”
“I probably would have—once it occurred to me. Now it’s too late.”
“Seeing that ring again made me afraid of you.”
“Afraid of me?”
“Yes, someone put arsenic in my scotch.”
“I’m sorry. You can’t imagine how sorry I am. You found the ring at a bad time—during this nightmare you’ve been going through.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that.”
“Not now—not yet,” he said. “You’ll have your ring tomorrow. I’m a patient man, Winna. I love you—always have, always will.”
ONCE AGAIN, THE old kitchen on Seventh Street was cluttered with boxes. The police had returned Todd’s stash to the house. Anxious to have a look, Winna, Chloe, and Emily gathered in the morning to sort through the boxes. They found the silk rugs, the Chinese vases—much of what had been lost, including Juliana’s story.
In one large cardboard box, they discovered a small wooden chest, humbly made and quite old.
“I’ve never seen this before,” Chloe said, lifting it onto the kitchen table.
Inside, they found old photographs, a tiny diary, a pocket lexicon, a soft paperback book, and a stack of yellowed letters surrounded by a collection of small things: a lock of baby hair, a rabbit’s foot, marbles, an old matchbook—the kind of things a young boy would collect and keep in a cigar box.
Winna picked up the book. “Here’s the Brown chapbook. Finally, we’ll get to see Whitaker’s poetry.” She opened the book to the title page.
“Not now,” Chloe said. “I’m not wild about poetry. Look, I found some pictures.”
Winna turned to her sister just as a sheet of paper fell out of the book to the floor. She picked it up. “Another poem—a work in progress maybe. It’s short—listen, I’ll read it.”
Truly, I know, Aladdin’s Cave is here,
In the High Desert. The great Tree of Gems
Is rooted at this confluence—the stars,
Its fruits, are hanging as from diadems
That crown night-sprites who haunt the upper air.
No Ifrit of Arabia, no Djinn,
Dare trespass in America’s free West:
Our sprites are Liberty and the Frontier.
“I think Aladdin’s cave was full of treasure,” Emily said.
Suddenly interested, Chloe wanted to hear the poem again. Winna read it, this time more slowly.
Chloe looked excited. “He says the cave is here—in the high desert—and he mentions a tree of gems—just like Juno said we’d find in Unaweep Canyon.”
“Okay,” Emily said, shaking her head in disbelief. “How about we look at the pictures you found, auntie.”
Chloe looked at the top photograph on the pile she was holding. “Could this be Dolph?” Yellowed and foxed, the snapshot showed a boy about seven sitting on a swing. He was squinting in the sunshine, wearing knickers and a cap. Another picture showed a smiling young man standing against the wall of a brick building in a gown holding his graduation cap. They appeared to be the same boy at different ages.
“That must have been taken at his high school graduation,” Winna said, looking over Chloe’s shoulder. “That’s how he looked when Gramma loved him.”
She’d had it all wrong. Dolph had dark curly hair combed into well-oiled waves and he wasn’t tall and thin. He looked to be average height, just the right size man for little Juliana. She could imagine them as perfect dance partners. She looked at his eyes, wishing the picture were in color.
Then it occurred to her. “I think he looks like Daddy.”
Both Emily and Chloe wanted to look again and looked over Winna’s shoulder.
“Yes, he does,” Chloe said.
“Your grandfather was way taller, thinner,” Emily said. “Poppa was built more like Whitaker. The plot thickens, but I doubt you’ll ever know the truth.”
They were silent a moment and, as if she knew she had spoiled the moment, Emily brightened and lifted the stack of letters into the light. “Guess who the letters are from.”
“Gramma?” Chloe said.
“Whitaker’s keepsakes—where on earth did Todd find this?” Winna asked.
Emily knew. “I’ll bet you anything that he found it in the basement of that house he tore down.”
Winna made coffee and they all sat around the kitchen table reading their grandmother’s letters. They were full of Juliana’s hopes and dreams for their future marriage, naïve words—sweet words that surprised the sisters.
“She wasn’t always mean,” Chloe said, surprised.
“Here’s the letter I’ve been hoping to find,” Winna said. She held it up and read it aloud.
Dear Dolph,
I am beside myself with worry. I can’t begin to imagine what you are thinking now. As you dashed for the train, you picked up the wrong bag. Mine was so like yours, I might have done the same. I didn’t even notice until I got home. The contents of your bag are safe and hiding in a trunk in the attic. Please tell me what you want me to do. These objects mean nothing to me. I cannot use them, nor do I want them. I do not need my bag back, but my things are important to me. Please send them care of Daisy.
Write soon. Tell me if you want me to ship the suitcase to Providence. Until I hear from you, be assured that all are safe with me.
I cannot tell you how sorry I am for this and for the way I disappointed you. I should have known better than to think for a moment that I could live off the fruits of ill-gotten gains. I gave you hope where there was none, for that, please forgive me.
Farewell, Juliana
Chloe sighed. “Whitaker never read that letter. He died on the train.”
“But now we know how the jewels got into Charlotte Blackleash’s trunk,” Emily said, “and that Gramma must have waited to hear back from him about her suitcase.”
“There’s no mention of a baby son,” Winna said. “That means Daddy wasn’t born yet—doesn’t it?”
Her question brought a sudden silence, then Emily said thoughtfully, “Chloe, maybe Juno can tell us?”
Chloe smiled at her niece. “I’m going to take that comment as a near conversion.”
Winna happily watched them hug. “Obviously Todd read the letter and it confirmed what Gramma wrote—that’s why I had all those break-ins.”
“How did the letter end up in this box in the basement of Mrs. Whitaker’s house on First Street?” Chloe asked.
“Think about it. If your son died, wouldn’t you send for his things?”
“Of course. The letter arrived and the landlady put it among the things she sent back to his mother.”
“There is no envelope. I assume that means that his mother opened it and read it,” Winna said.
The women agreed that if they put Dolph’s letters in sequence with Juliana’s letters, they would get a better picture, but until then, they had already solved most of the mysteries.
Chloe detailed her version of what had happened. “Juliana learns her former lover is dead. She grieves, then remembers she’s stuck with stolen property. She can’t reveal that without exposing her adultery, so she sneaks around sewing jewelry into her stash of outdated gowns.”
“And who knows where else,” Winna said. “You know that rhinestone choker Leia found? I took it down to Page Parsons and they said it’s about fifty-five carats of high quality diamonds. We still don’t know where the dog found it.”
“Will it never end?” Emily said.
Chloe sighed. “I hope not. By the way, you interrupted me as I was making sense of everything. Where was I?”
“You left her sewing jewels into her gowns,” Winna said.
“Yes. Then Gramma writes a story using some of the events that really happened. For instance, we never found any of the jewelry described in her story—do you suppose those pieces are in Unaweep Canyon like Juno said?”
“Who knows,” Emily said, rolling her eyes.
“Don’t get too excited about the jewelry. It doesn’t belong to us—it’s stolen and belongs to someone else’s grandchildren,” Winna said.
“Are you kidding?” Chloe cried. “It was meant for us. Gramma would want us to have it all.”
“Hey,” Emily said, “don’t argue about that right now. One thing’s for certain. Both of her granddaughters inherited Gramma’s knack for falling in love with the wrong man.”
Winna and Chloe nodded and rolled their eyes.
Luke and Leia started barking. A knock on the kitchen door followed and Seth came in. He looked like a man on a mission and would not be persuaded to sit down for a cup of coffee.
“I’ve thought this over carefully,” he said. “It’s time for me to take you to the attic. I have something to show you.”
Seth led them up the front staircase, down the hall, and up the stairs to the attic. Most of the attic’s contents had been cleared for the yard sale. Winna was surprised to see that Seth had left the strange bedroom tableau on the braided rug. She said nothing as he led them in that direction.
When she saw the reproduction of her and Winna’s childhood bedroom shining in the light from the dormers, Chloe gasped and pulled back as if she were afraid. Winna took her hand and they followed until they stood beside the wicker beds and matching night tables with the little-girl lamps.
Seth spoke first. “I made this little scene.”
Chloe was crying. “This furniture came from our house in town—before we moved to the country.”
Winna looked confused. “How did you know how things were placed?”
“For some reason, I don’t remember, your father and I came up here for something. He saw one of the beds and told me it had belonged to his daughters. He started looking for the rest of the furniture that went with it. He said it would make him happy to see the beds, the dresser, and little rocking chair back together again.”
The House on Seventh Street Page 27
