Secret of the Painted Lady

by Christina A. Burke

  "Me? You thought I took your diamonds?" I yelled.

  "I was investigating everyone who was in that day."

  I barely paused for breath. "You had the diamonds out in the open? Might as well have put them in the display case." I watched his face flush. "Really? The display case? Are you stupid or something?"

  He rubbed his hand over his face. "Uncut diamonds don't look like diamonds. And they weren't where anyone could touch them. Ever heard the term 'hiding in plain view?' Well, that's the best way to avoid theft."

  "Yeah, great plan," I replied. A bunch of questions begged to be answered about the diamonds, but I couldn't get over how calculating George's offer of "help" had been. It just didn't jive with the man I had been getting to know. Maybe I'd been the one blinded by Gram's William Powell image.

  George walked back over to the fire, continuing, "It should've been fine in a small town like this. I'm still not sure how the thief took them."

  His words echoed in my head. He'd sought this town out a year ago. Not to be a florist, but to hide in plain sight. "Who are you?" I asked with a quiver in my voice. He didn't answer. Just continued to stare moodily into the fire. "For all I know, you could've killed the tourist. Or been John's attacker," I lashed out.

  George turned and stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "You are really jumping to conclusions there, Nora. Maybe we should sit down and go over this again. I'm not a murderer. I'm just a guy who was stupid enough to leave diamonds lying around, as you so elegantly pointed out."

  "No," I said. "You're a guy on the run from something. You're still not telling me the truth. And you have the nerve to say John's involved in all this."

  "I'm not on the run," he said seriously. "But yes, there is more to my story than I care to share at this moment. I'm just asking for you to have a little trust in me right now."

  "I don't know what to believe anymore, George," I said sadly.

  "Believe that there's more to John than meets the eye. Hey, I'm not the only one who thinks so," he insisted with a little smile. "Smitty called him a murderer." George hooked a finger at Smitty's cage.

  Smitty cooed softly and fluffed his feathers. George stepped closer to me. "Let's just have a drink by the fire and talk this through."

  I took a step back. I didn't really think he was capable of murder, but I was tired of being lied to. I pointed to the door and said firmly, "Good-night, Mr. Charles."

  * * *

  I parked in front of Jack Condor's ostentatious steel-and-glass office building. Condor Development Group was located on the outskirts of Danger Cove in a sprawling unit of modern, bright office buildings.

  A blonde with oversized lips greeted me at the front desk. "Can I help you?"

  "I'd like to speak with Mr. Condor about a real estate transaction. Tell him it's Alex Jordan."

  "I'm sorry," the blonde said by rote. "Mr. Condor is currently at a job site, but I'll be sure to have him call you back within two business days."

  I looked up at the ceiling and then over at the parking lot. "That's his black Caddy, right?" I asked, pointing to the car parked in the space with a sign that read: Boss Man.

  "Oh, um, well, I'm not sure," she stumbled.

  "Tell you what," I said, moving past her desk toward the door marked Private. "I'll just go see him myself. Don't bother showing me the way. I'll just follow the trail of feathers." I giggled.

  "Miss, you can't! Wait!" I heard her heels clacking behind me, and then the door swung shut, and she was gone. I'd never been at Condor's before, but I was sure he'd be in one of the two corner offices. When my feet hit the super-plush carpeting, I knew I'd found his lair, or should I say nest. I couldn't get the big chicken image out of my head.

  "Why, Miss Jordan," boomed Jack Condor from behind his desk, "what a pleasure to see you again."

  "Hello, Jack," I said with a nod. "May I?" I asked, indicating the small chair in front of the big silver-and-black desk. The seat was so low I had to crane my head to see his face. What a jerk.

  He pointed a finger at me. "I had a feelin' I'd be seeing you this week. Let's just say a little birdie told me." He chuckled.

  I suppressed a snort by clearing my throat. "I'm sure," I replied dryly. "Look, I'm here to discuss the offer you made on Marlton House. I've decided selling may be in my best interest."

  "Really?" he said and then leaned back in his big, squeaky leather chair and made a tepee with his hands. "I'm not sure my client is still in the market to buy it, Miss Jordan. What with the dead body in the bathtub and all." He gave me a nasty grin.

  "Since when have bodies stopped you? You dug up the old cemetery to build condos. What's one dead tourist in a bathtub?"

  Condor held up a ringed hand. "I relocated those graves at the request of the family members."

  "You mean you paid them off," I shot back.

  "Semantics, my dear. Just semantics," he said dismissively. "Now let's get back to Marlton House. Why are you looking to sell it all of a sudden?"

  I felt his shrewd eyes on me. "I don't know how long the investigation is going to delay construction, and I have to have the house on the market in sixty days. According to Detective Ohlsen, it could take weeks." I shrugged. "I don't have that kind of time."

  Condor nodded thoughtfully. "Well, it certainly isn't advantageous for me or my client to have the estate tied up in a criminal investigation either."

  "No, but you can afford to wait, and I can't. So are you interested or not?" I asked.

  Condor made a face. "I do love those old Painted Ladies. They hold so many secrets beneath their many layers, don't they?" he asked with a gleam in his eye.

  "Well, I'm sure I'll find out when I start digging away in there," I replied, giving him a direct look.

  "I'm sure you will. Could take some time though." He made a rueful face. "Anything could happen on a construction site. Things disappear. People have accidents. You know—all that sorta thing."

  Threats and more threats. I was able to read the message loud and clear. Jack Condor, and whoever he was working with, had decided it would be easier to let me deal with the police and the fallout from trying to work on a crime scene.

  I stood up and walked to the doorway. On a hunch, I turned and said, "Do you know what's in the box, Jack?"

  His face never changed. "Nothing to worry your head about, little lady."

  I stopped and slowly wiped my muddy boots on his pristine carpet. It was childish, but oh so satisfying.

  * * *

  "No you didn't," George said with a grin.

  I nodded. "Pretty immature, huh?" I was feeling a little guilty about wiping my feet on his carpet. Not exactly professional. Gram would have a fit if she ever found out.

  I'd texted George to meet me at the Cinnamon Sugar after I finished with Condor. I was far from trusting George at the moment, but I really needed someone to work through all these ideas. My head was spinning with possibilities.

  "Just what the old bugger deserved." George took a sip of coffee. "And good move telling him that you know about the box. You just upped the ante. Don't believe a word he said. If he's convinced the box is at Marlton House and you're looking for it, he's going crazy thinking you'll find it first."

  "He surely didn't act like he was worried about me finding it first. I hope it doesn't mean more delays and trouble with the construction site," I replied gloomily. "I don't need him siccing the building inspector or any of his other cronies on me to slow the work down once I get back in."

  "Here's a thought," George said brightly. "Maybe you're right, and Condor's going to sit back and wait for you to track down the box. Then it's in his best interest to get you in there as soon as possible. If that's his plan, he could call in some favors to get you back in faster."

  Sounded like wishful thinking to me, but I needed a break. Closing on the Sticks and Stones house was tomorrow. Big Ron was putting the finishing touches on the punch list, and then I had the closing at the buyer's bank. I didn't always attend
closings, but there had been a few snags with the paperwork, and I wanted to be there just in case my signature was needed. I couldn't afford to have anything interfere with this closing. After that I had nothing to do. I didn't want to risk losing Big Ron to another contractor, so I'd have to put him on a job at Rockgrove to keep him employed. Gram had been after me for weeks to fix the powder room on the first floor. The basin was cracked, and the toilet ran constantly.

  "So how's the mystery guest?" George asked. "Has he gotten over Smitty's insults yet?"

  I shrugged. "I saw him briefly at breakfast. Gram had a list of things she wanted him to help her with. Thank God someone else can take her grocery shopping this week."

  George chuckled. "Bet that'll sharpen up his memory lickety-split."

  "You really think he's faking?" It just sounded too far-fetched to me.

  "John's up to something. Maybe it has nothing to do with the tourist. But mark my words, he's up to something."

  "Guess you would know," I said petulantly. His sunny disposition was getting on my last nerve. He seemed to have completely forgotten our discussion last night, and I had barely slept because of it.

  George sighed. "I'm sorry about last night. And I'm sorry I wheedled my way into your good graces to try to solve my own problems. I should've told you from the beginning."

  I glared at him. "Ya think?"

  He looked me in the eyes. "Two things haven't changed. I still want to help you because I don't want to see your business ruined, and getting to see you every day instead of just once a week has made me feel alive for this first time since I came to this town."

  My only reply was a bright-red blush that crept up from waist to chest to face. I resisted the urge to fan myself with my napkin.

  George checked his watch. "I've got to get back to the shop. Good work today, Mrs. Charles."

  "Call me Nora."

  "Nah, I like Mrs. Charles." His hand brushed mine.

  I gave him a smile.

  "Call me with any news," he said as he went out the door.

  I shook my head. I'd never have guessed I'd be checking in daily with George while trying to solve the Marlton House murder mystery. Before all this, I'd barely tolerated seeing him on Friday to pick up Gram's flowers. Now we were buds. Maybe even something more.

  That thought made me uncomfortable. I'd come home from college with my proverbial tail tucked between my legs with a degree in fine arts I had no intention of using. I'd met my ex-fiancé when he was a guest speaker in one of my classes. His family owned a high-end auction house, and he had been working in the business since graduating five years earlier. Taylor was sophisticated, engaging, and gorgeous. It turned out he also had a taste for variety both in art and in women. I hadn't found out about the "women" part until I graduated and went to work with him at the auction house. A week later, the engagement was off, and I was driving home to Danger Cove.

  My phone rang. A local number showed on the screen. "Hello," I said.

  "Yes, Ms. Jordan?" said a male voice.

  "Yes, can I help you?" I replied.

  "This is Detective Ohlsen. I wanted to let you know we're removing the crime scene restrictions from Marlton House. The team has collected all necessary evidence. You will be able to enter the premises at noon today. Please be advised we may need to assess the house at some point during the ongoing investigation."

  My eyes widened. "That's great news! Thanks so much, Detective Ohlsen."

  I hung up and stared out the window in stunned silence. George was right. Condor had called in some favors for this one.

  I finished my coffee and doughnut and hurried down the street to George's flower shop. He was setting out the pretty bouquets on the sidewalk when I got there.

  "Big news!" I said. "The house is mine today at noon." I put up my hand for a high five.

  George tapped my hand, saying, "Hah, now the work really begins."

  "Yep. I'm going to get Big Ron over to do a walk-through and list all of the major projects. I should have him working first thing tomorrow." I was flushed with excitement, but George's face looked concerned. "What's wrong?"

  "This just seems too convenient. I know what I said before about Condor pulling strings, but is he this well connected? To call off the police in a few hours? It bothers me," George brooded.

  "I don't care. I'm going to start construction and look for that damn box."

  "At this point, you don't really need to concern yourself with the box, right? I mean, you've accomplished your goal." He looked at me keenly. "I've been a total jerk to you, despite what I thought were my best intentions. No need for you to risk anything further by helping me find the diamonds."

  Where was this coming from? He seemed completely deflated from the man who'd left the bakery not thirty minutes ago. Of course, he was right. I didn't really need his help. I could let the police deal with the murder and George with his diamonds. It was really none of my concern now. But the thought left me cold and lonely. Like George, I hadn't felt this alive since coming back to Danger Cove. Oh, I'd gone through the motions, but until this past week with him, I'd been dead inside.

  "But the box is still a big concern to you," I said quietly. "And there's nothing saying the police aren't going to shut me down again if new evidence comes up. I'm not taking any chances. I want to keep looking."

  George smiled. "I was hoping you'd say something like that, but I didn't want to drag you into this any more than necessary. My enthusiasm was overriding my conscience. I've been sitting here trying to rein it in. I don't want to cause you or your grandmother any problems."

  I rolled my eyes. "We've got a diamond thief, a dead tourist in my flip's bathtub, a guy with amnesia, and I just know Jack Condor is up to no good in Danger Cove right now. This is my hometown—there's no way I'm just turning a blind eye to it all. Besides," I said with a grin, "I'm having more fun than I have in forever. Let's kick this thing into high gear. What do you say, Mr. Charles?"

  George laughed at my excitement. "I say we're going to need quite a plan to pull this off, Mrs. Charles."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  At noon Big Ron and I opened the front door of Marlton House. "Holy moly!" Ron exclaimed, looking around the space. "It's huge. Look at the scrollwork." He pointed over the doorway. Then he expelled a big breath, adding, "This is a lot of work."

  "Sixty days, Ron," I reminded him.

  "You're crazy," he replied.

  "You've said that every time we've looked at a house together."

  "Yeah, well this time I mean it. Restoring the woodwork is going to be a full-time job for weeks."

  "Okay, then we hire a top-notch carpenter. Who do you know?" I asked.

  He shook his head. "I'll find somebody, but you're not going to like the price." He pointed to some holes in the plaster to the side of the staircase. "Might even have termites or rats. Look at those holes."

  Great, just great. Now I had to worry about rats. "How about a couple of apprentices, and you can manage them?"

  Big Ron gave me a look. "So I'm the full-time babysitter then? That's not what you're paying me for."

  I held up my hands. "Okay, okay, we'll deal with it later. Let's look over the rest of the house."

  I made a note on my worksheet about the woodwork. I pointed out the powder room with the missing toilet as we headed for the kitchen.

  "One in every house," he said with a shrug.

  The kitchen looked worse than I remembered. Big Ron tried the kitchen faucet, and after a few bings and bangs, sludgy looking water began to pour out.

  I spun around at the sound of a low whistle.

  "This is one ugly Painted Lady in the light of day," George said.

  "Thanks for pointing out the obvious. Didn't anyone ever tell you that whistling is rude? And what are you doing here?"

  "Hoping to lure you away for a working lunch since it doesn't look like we'll be cooking in here anytime soon."

  "I've got a lot to do to get Big Ron started b
efore I can go," I said hesitantly, although I was as excited about getting our plan started as I was about starting on Marlton House. "Okay," I said, turning back to Big Ron, "so I want to keep the soapstone sink and the tin ceiling."

  Big Ron nodded in agreement. "Demo the rest?"

  I nodded and handed him one end of the measuring tape. "I'll work a preliminary sketch tonight. Obviously, we need a good plumber. Can you call your guy?"

  "Yep. I think the brown sludge is probably corroded iron pipes. We'll need to do new copper."

  "Cha-ching!" George said, startling me.

  I glared at him. "You're welcome to be here, but only if you can keep the comments to a minimum. We're trying to work here."

  "So sorry," he said. "I guess I never realized how much goes into something like this. What's your renovation budget?"

  I sighed. "A little up in the air right now."

  "Staying on budget will be a miracle," Big Ron interjected.

  I made a face. "Hey, it's a possibility." I was hoping for a break on the second-floor renovations. Obviously, the bathrooms would need to be redone, but if the floors and walls were in good condition, I could save some money there.

  "We need to get the foundation guy in to check out the cellar," Ron reminded me. "No use doing a bunch of work up here if we've got foundation problems."

  "Will do," I replied.

  We walked through to the dining room with a giant stone fireplace and hearth. It looked to be in pristine condition. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about," Ron said. "All we need is a chimney sweep and a scope to check for cracks. Otherwise, it's perfect."

  "Yeah," I said. "And I'm loving the condition of these floors. Nice wear and patina, but no gouges or damage. I'm thinking we polish and go."

  I high-fived Ron, and George said, "So that's where you get it. Must be one of those manly, construction-worker things that I don't understand."

  I snorted. "High-fiving is better than whistling."

  "I'm not sure I'd agree," George said as we walked into the formal parlor. "Watch out for those curtains," he warned.