by Ellery Adams
Geneva nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll put it in the safe.” She sighed. “This is so disappointing. I’ve known Theodore and his parents for years. Please tell Detective Lombardi to do something about this soon. Theodore is expecting me to have the necklace ready for him to pick up in three weeks.” She paused. “What do I do, if he calls and tells me he’s changed his mind, and he wants the ring back?”
“Tell him you had to send it out.”
Geneva looked at her like she had two heads. “You know he will never believe that.” She pointed to the wall behind her, where a large, framed copy of Molly’s article in Collector’s Weekly was hung for all to see. “Thanks to you, everyone knows I design and create everything myself, right here, in my workshop.”
She’s right, Molly thought. Theodore would never believe Geneva if she said she had sent the ring to someone else, for any reason. “Let’s hope he doesn’t change his mind then,” she said. “But if you do hear from him, call me right away, and I’ll make sure Lombardi gets over here.”
“All right. I will.”
The shop door opened behind Molly, and her heart skipped a beat. She hoped Theodore hadn’t come back for some reason. But it wasn’t Theodore. It was an elderly man. He waved at Geneva, and headed over to the watch section. Timing is everything, Molly thought.
Chapter 22
Molly was about to start the car engine when someone knocked on her window, which startled her so much she almost jumped out of her seat. “Oh!” It was her mother. She powered down the window. “Ma, you about gave me a heart attack. What are you doing here?”
“I remembered you had a hair appointment this morning. I wanted to catch you before you left the salon.”
“Get in.” She popped the locks open, and Clara went around to the passenger side of the car.
“How is Pierre? Your hair looks lovely.”
“He’s fine. Why are you stalking me?”
“I’m not stalking you. I thought you would have called me by now.”
“About what?”
Clara sighed. “You had dinner with your father and Pamela last night.”
“Oh, right.” Molly cringed. She’d completely forgotten to call her mother to tell her all about it. “I’m sorry, Ma. I’ve had a lot on my mind.” She told her about the food, and then the conversation she’d had with him in the kitchen. “Overall, I’d say it went well. I’m glad Matt encouraged me to go.”
Clara smiled. “I’m very proud of you. I know it wasn’t easy to have that talk with your father.”
“You don’t think I was being too hard on him, do you? I mean, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I felt a little bad about threatening to cut him off from my family forever, if he took a wrong step and ignored Tyler the way he ignored me.”
“You’re protecting your son, and yourself. You have nothing to feel bad about. Besides, he deserves to be put on notice. You’ve given him a second chance. Some people might say it’s more than he deserves.”
Molly grinned. “Oh, yeah? Who says?”
“Sean, for one. He loves you and Tyler. He feels very protective of both of you.”
“We love him, too,” Molly said. “Was that all you wanted to talk to me about?”
“No. You mentioned you were having trouble getting through to Quincy Clarke, so Sean contacted him.”
Molly stared at her. “He took Sean’s call?”
“Yes. He didn’t know Sean was your stepfather.”
“Of course not, that’s why he talked to him.”
Clara smiled. “The good news is, Sean convinced him to meet you. He said he’ll be at Waterfront Park at noon, waiting for you on one of the benches.”
“Interesting he didn’t invite me to his home. He probably doesn’t want me to see his coin collection. I bet he’s got some of those stolen coins.”
“Oh, dear, please don’t make this into a conspiracy theory without any evidence. That never turns out well. Perhaps he likes to eat his lunch in the park. Be happy you have a meeting with him.”
“You’re right, Ma. And I’ll thank Sean later.”
Clara looked at her watch. “We have a little over an hour before the meeting.”
“We?”
“Yes, we. I’m going with you. How about we grab a cup of coffee at Gaston’s Bakery.” Clara opened her door. “It’s at the end of the block.”
Molly smiled. She might not have inherited her father’s culinary skills, but she definitely inherited her mother’s love of bakeries.
Gaston’s wasn’t in a high-foot-traffic area like Java Jitters, which meant they didn’t have to wait to order at the counter, or find an unoccupied table. Molly treated her mother to coffee, and ordered two lemon poppyseed muffins. As they ate their muffins and drank their coffee, she told her about her visit to Coleman’s Jewelry. “Seeing Theodore go into the jewelry store, I immediately thought of the ring. And lo and behold, there it was, in all its glory. I think they’re trying to change it, in case the police ever come sniffing around with a warrant.”
Clara took a bite of muffin. “This is good, but not as good as Jazzy’s.” She sipped her coffee. “May I voice an opinion?”
“Of course.”
“If Theodore knew the ring was stolen, he’s taking a very big risk bringing it to Geneva. If he hadn’t told her his wife never wears it, I might be more suspicious of him, but why give that information away? If the police did ever search their house, and found an emerald and diamond necklace, they might take the time to explore its origins, and that would lead them to Geneva.”
Molly thought about this. “You’re right, it was risky. Maybe Janell was in on the robbery with Charlotte, but Theodore had nothing to do with it. Maybe she can’t bear to wear it because she knows how it was obtained, and she feels guilty about it.” She finished her muffin, and took a sip of coffee. “Let’s imagine Janell went along with Charlotte that night to rob Larry. They take the coins, and the ring, and Larry gets shot. When they get home, she’s shaken up about what happened, and later, she can’t bring herself to wear the ring because she’s racked with guilt. Years pass, and Theodore thinks he’ll surprise his wife on their anniversary by resetting the gemstones into something she will wear, completely oblivious to what she had done.” She sat back in her chair. “Bottom line, I don’t trust any of these people, but Janell is at the top of my list for being an accomplice to Larry Pruett’s murder, and the robbery of those coins.”
“What was her motive?”
“Money, of course. I’ve been thinking about it. She told me her mother had to quit her job at a dry cleaner. Do you think the dry cleaner provided insurance? I highly doubt it. Janell was in nursing school, working part-time at a fast-food restaurant. And remember, this was long before there were any other affordable care options out there. They were probably in debt up to their eyeballs.”
Clara nodded. “All right, I can see how she could be tempted to do it, and now we know Charlotte was greedy, and capable of blackmail.”
“Right. It’s not a long walk across the street, or in this case, the yard, to doing far worse.”
“Do you really think Janell could have killed Charlotte?”
“I can imagine it happening if Charlotte was holding something over her, and she killed her to end it.”
Clara’s eyes widened. “What if Charlotte didn’t have anything to do with the robbery or murder, but she knew Janell did? If she knew she was guilty, she could have blackmailed her. Give me the coins, and I won’t tell anyone.”
Molly smiled. “Ma, I love the way your mind works. You could be right. It would make sense, and the gun, too. She took it as leverage against her, to hold over her if she ever needed it.” She paused. “Except Janell would have needed help selling the coins. Maybe Charlotte coordinated that part, if they were in on it together. The problem is, I can’t prove any of this. Charlotte is dead, and Janell will never confess.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Clara said. “You mentioned
she might have felt so guilty about what happened she couldn’t bear to wear the ring. You could use that guilt.”
Molly laughed. “To pry the truth out of her? Okay. How?”
“Agatha Christie’s novel Murder on the Orient Express comes to mind. Remember how Hercule Poirot brought all the suspects together in one place to make his case? They were a captive audience, with nowhere to run. Find a place where you can get everyone together. Janell and Theodore, Alison and Wyatt, Rene, even Quincy Clarke, if he seems suspicious. Put the pressure on her in a setting where she’s surrounded by people who knew Charlotte.”
“I don’t know, Ma. I’m not Hercule Poirot. That sounds more up Lombardi’s alley.”
Clara reached across the table and took her hand. “As much as I worry when you get involved in a murder investigation, I have faith in you. I truly believe if anyone could make Janell break, it’s you.”
Molly squeezed her hand. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said, and glanced at her watch. “We better go. If we leave right now, we can walk to Waterfront Park and get there on time. I really need some air to clear my mind.”
Chapter 23
At Battery Street, Molly and Clara crossed the road and entered Waterfront Park. The park was located along the Lake Champlain shoreline, a popular hangout spot for food and music festivals in the summer. In the autumn, with the temperature a comfortable forty degrees and the sun shining in a cloudless sky, dog walkers and joggers were out taking advantage of the nice weather. Molly scanned the park benches and saw a single man near the Community Boathouse. He wasn’t eating lunch, but drinking coffee out of a Starbucks cup. He was also talking on his cell phone, and as soon as she and her mother approached, he said into his phone, “I’ll see you soon. ’Bye.”
“Quincy Clarke?”
He pocketed his phone, got up, and shook her hand. “You must be Molly Appleby.” He looked at Clara. “And who are you?”
“Clara Appleby. Sean Murphy is my husband.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize you were coming, too.” He shook her hand. “Sit down, ladies. I have to meet someone in about forty minutes, but until then, I’m all yours.”
He took a seat in the middle of the bench, with Molly on one side and Clara on the other. He was in his fifties, was short and heavily built, and had steel gray hair. He wore dark Ray-Bans that hid his eyes, and a cashmere turtleneck sweater under a soft suede jacket, gray silk slacks, and Gucci shoes. He was wealthy, and didn’t mind showing it off.
“I apologize for not getting back to you,” he told Molly. “I’ve been busy.”
“You had time to talk to Sean.”
He smiled. “Yes, well, Sean Murphy is someone you don’t ignore. The Treasure Trove is, in my opinion, the best antiques store in Vermont.”
“High praise coming from you,” she said. “You’ve been a dealer a long time.”
“Correction. I’m a private collector of coins and stamps.” He took a moment to breathe in the fresh air. “After you left your message, I called Marcus Lee. I know he told you that I knew Charlotte, and I lived with her friend, Rene. I also know the police have found some rare coins at her shop, as well as a gun that was used in a crime.”
“I never told Marcus about it, and the police haven’t released any of that information to the public. Who told you?”
He smiled again, but Molly thought it was more of a smirk. “The gossip mill in this town is amazing.” She didn’t believe him. Rene had told her she’d met with him, and since she was well aware of what they had found in Charlotte’s desk, she could only assume that Rene had told him. He took a sip of his coffee. “You think I had something to do with Charlotte’s death. Admit it.”
“If Charlotte stole the coins from Larry Pruett, or she was an accomplice, she had to have help selling the coins. Someone like you, with contacts, you—”
He cut her off. “I’m not the only coin collector, or dealer, in New England. She could have asked anyone to help her, someone unscrupulous. I pride myself on being an honest broker, if the occasion ever arises, which it doesn’t very often.”
He’s denying any involvement, Molly thought. Proving otherwise would be a steep climb up a hill that was probably not worth the effort. But he still had information she might be able to use, and she could concentrate on that.
“Wasn’t Rene a bit on the young side?”
He shrugged. “She was twenty-one, I was forty-two. So, yes, there was an age difference, and a generational divide, but we hit it off.” Another smirk. “What can I say? I liked her, and she liked me.” He studied his fingernails, which looked professionally manicured. “The problem was, Rene fancied herself as the woman who would finally reel me into marriage. Women always do. That’s why I had to break up with her.”
“You’re a confirmed bachelor?”
“Yes, and I never lie about it. Rene knew the deal. I told her, if you’re looking for a husband, look somewhere else. She knew what she was getting into when she moved in with me.”
“How long were you together?”
“About nine months. Practically a lifetime for me.” The smirk widened. “I will admit, of all the women I’ve ever been with, I loved Rene the best.” How big of him, Molly thought. She didn’t like Quincy Clarke. He was smug and arrogant. “I truly did care about her. That’s why I didn’t kick her out onto the street. I told her she could live with me until she and Charlotte found another apartment to rent. Then Mr. Pruett got himself killed, and Charlotte had a meltdown, and Rene told me she was insisting that they leave for Boston right away. I thought that was a mistake. Rene had told me how much they’d saved, and it wasn’t nearly enough to go big, the way they wanted to. Renting space on Newbury Street, getting the shop stocked, it was all going to cost a lot of money.” He took another sip of coffee. “So, we went over the figures, and I made up the difference.”
Molly was shocked. “You gave them money?” He nodded. “How much?”
“Oh, about a hundred thousand. I know, I know, it’s quite a lot of money, but I had two good reasons to do it. One, I really did want to help them. Charlotte was smart, and I felt confident that with Rene’s help, they would make a success of their business. And they did. Two, I wanted to give Rene an incentive to leave town. She was still in love with me, and I wanted to put distance between us. She needed to move on.”
What a guy, Molly thought with disgust. “I spoke to Wyatt Lyman. He told me Charlotte bought two acres of land and a house from you recently. Sounds like you stayed in touch with her.”
“No, no, you’ve got that all wrong.” He shook his head. “I hadn’t talked to Charlotte or Rene since they left Vermont. Then about two months ago, Charlotte showed up at my home. She knew all about the negotiations I was in with Wyatt to sell off thirty-two acres of land that I own. She wanted to know if she could rent the house. I asked her why, if she knew he was interested in the property, and she told me about their affair, and how he dumped her, and broke her heart.” He grinned. “I’m a softie at heart, in case you hadn’t figured that out by now.” Molly glanced at her mother, who was pursing her lips like she’d just eaten a sour lemon. “Anyway, Charlotte wanted to get back at him, and I haven’t been overly keen to sell, so I thought, why not? I gave her a one-year lease, and thought at the end of the year, I’d know whether I wanted to give up that land once and for all.”
Molly was astounded. “You leased the house to her?”
“Yes. If she told Wyatt she bought the place from me, she was lying.”
Molly sat back and looked out at the lake. Pinpricks of sunlight glistened on the water. Seagulls overhead circled the dock, where two fisherman were standing, patiently waiting for a catch, the gulls ready to pounce, if they got lucky. It was such a beautiful day, but there was something about Quincy’s tone of voice, the smirk on his face, and his complicity with Charlotte to mess up Wyatt that made the day feel a little ugly.
“Charlotte told Wyatt she bought the house from you, and if he wa
nted it, he’d have to pay her one million dollars. Last Sunday, he agreed to buy it from her, minus ten thousand dollars cash that he gave her.”
Quincy burst out laughing. “My God, what nerve!” He chuckled. “I underestimated her hatred of the man. But how did she think she’d ever get away with it? Wyatt would have found out it was all a lie when it was time to close, since there was nothing to close on.” He paused, the laughter gone, his jaw tight. “The more I think about it, I don’t find this funny at all. She cast me in a bad light.” Molly thought he’d done that all on his own by agreeing to go along with renting her the house, but she didn’t interrupt to tell him. He was talking, and that’s all she cared about. “Wait until Pamela Lyman finds out. She’ll probably sic a team of lawyers on me, and I’ll be forced to sell the thirty-two acres.”
Molly’s eyebrows shot up. “You know Pamela?”
“Yes. You see, there was a time, in the distant past, when I was friends with her husband. I got along with Joseph all right, but Pamela never took a shine to me. She doesn’t like antiques, doesn’t see the point in keeping old things around. She also thinks I’m lazy, because I don’t have to work for a living.” The smirk returned. “I think she’s jealous, because she had to. In any event, it’s not just me. Ask anyone in the business community. She has a reputation for being a perfectionist extraordinaire. There’s simply no pleasing her. I honestly pity Wyatt for having had to deal with her his whole life.”
“Was it Wyatt who approached you about selling your land?”
“It was. I told him it’s been in my family for generations, and I’m not going to let go of it unless I’m allowed input into what’s going to be built.” He paused. “I admit, he’s been accommodating, addressing my concerns about the environmental impact of the project, how it will affect the abutters to the property, which is important to me. I don’t want to ruin anyone’s property values, or make their lives miserable. I have standards. I try to do what’s right.”
