by Dave Daren
Even though many of Austin’s collections ended up here, it was clear he still used the room. There were no good hiding spots in the place, and I doubted Diana spent that much time in the room unless she was packing a bag for her getaway. No, if Diana wanted to keep the necklace hidden from Austin’s eyes, she’d put it somewhere Austin wouldn’t look, like his wife’s personal possessions.
I stepped out of the storage room and tiptoed to the other doorway. One look inside told me I had reached the master bedroom. The entrance to the room was diagonal from the foot of a queen-sized bed flanked on either side by wooden nightstands. There was a lamp and book on one nightstand, and if the bookmark was accurate, the reader was nearing the end of the book. The other nightstand was covered with several chargers for electronic devices which I guessed was Austin’s since Diana was supposedly a technophobe.
Sunlight streamed in through a set of blue, transparent curtains that covered the windows and gave the whole space a strange, almost underwater look to the room. A set of thick black out curtains were still pulled back which I found surprising given how often Diana seemed to have migraines. The walls of the room were bare, just a sea of white plaster, and I wondered if they had been left blank because Morris and Diana only used this room to sleep and dress.
I glanced over my shoulder, but if Diana had missed me yet, she hadn’t come searching for me, so I stepped into the room for a closer look. As I walked around the bed, I spotted another door that wasn’t visible from the hallway, and a quick peek inside revealed the master bathroom at the end of yet another short hallway.
But there was another doorway before the master bath, and when I opened it, I found a very large walk-in closet. I felt around on the wall by the door until I found the lightswitch, and I clicked it on.
The closet was clearly Diana’s personal space. The clothing on the hangers was all hers, and the shelf that wound around the room was filled with women’s shoes. And more importantly, I noticed a jewelry box between a pair of tennis shoes and white, heeled ankle boots.
I reached up for the box and set it down on a white dresser pushed against the wall across from me. I flung the box open and was met with my reflection in the mirror on the box’s lid. Thankfully, no music started to play, so I did a quick check of the box’s contents. The box had been divided into six squares, with two rows of three squares. The bottom middle box, however, was further divided into three narrow rows that allowed for rings to be placed snugly inside.
Five rings filled those rows while the surrounding boxes contained bracelets and earrings, but no sign of the necklace that Vann had bought. There were two small drawers beneath the top section for additional storage, and I thought those seemed like a more likely hiding place.
I opened the topmost drawer and found three bracelets neatly lined up side by side. The bottom drawer, I told myself, would have what I wanted then. But when I opened the bottom drawer, I found three more bracelets, all carefully lined up as well. I sighed as I shut the drawer, and I tried to guess where else she might have hidden the necklace.
I started to lift the jewelry box to place it back where I’d found it when I realized there was a notch in the left side of the box. I placed my thumb on the notch and pulled at it until it opened up. It was a compartment with four hooks inside, each hook carrying a necklace. My hope was dashed, though, as I quickly realized none of the necklaces were the nautical one. I closed the compartment and looked on the other side of the box in the hopes of finding another compartment, but I’d apparently found all of the hiding spots the box had to offer.
So I returned the jewelry box to its original spot and looked around the shelf for another one. When my search turned up empty, I lowered my eyes to the dresser in front of me. I opened the top drawer to find neatly folded stacks of what appeared to be pajamas. I carefully pushed them aside to search between and under them, but all I found were more pajamas. I moved on to the next drawer once I completed my search, and the one after that, but all I found were socks and t-shirts that were too thin for the Arctic.
Three more drawers remained, and I started to wonder if I was too late. I refused to entertain the idea that either Vann or Yura had lied about Diana’s affair, and so I told myself Diana must have already relocated the gift or discarded it entirely. Maybe she had convinced herself it was too risky to keep after she had returned from throwing Vann into the Chukchi Sea, but why would she? No one knew about the gift, and I doubted Diana ever thought the police would bother to unlock Vann’s phone.
These thoughts ran through my mind as I opened the next drawer. It was full of underwear, feminine underwear to be specific. The panties were folded and stacked on one side of the drawer while the other side was a stack of bras. I wondered if she thought an officer would hesitate to go through her underwear if she hid the necklace here. I chuckled at the idea as I pushed the garments aside to commence my search.
Under the layers of underwear and bras were several articles of lingerie. I debated whether these had been worn for Morris or Vann as I rummaged through them. The fact that they seemed to be hidden under the other clothing made me think they had been intended for Vann. I didn’t take Morris as the type to dig through his wife’s belongings, but he did seem like the type to open the wrong drawer every time he needed something. That seemed like the only plausible explanation for Diana’s extra caution, and I found it amusing.
Even if Morris had stumbled across the lingerie, would he have confronted her about it? He was quite an oblivious man, and so I wouldn’t have been surprised if he mistakenly believed they had always been there or, even sadder, they had been bought for his enjoyment. Either way, the lacy garments made me realize that despite Vann’s claim to Yura that his relationship with Diana was solely for gathering information, he made sure to make the most of the affair. Unless Diana had been the one who wanted to put on a show for him.
I froze as something glittering caught my eye when I moved a piece of black clothing out of the way. I lifted up the next article of clothing, something in a pink fabric, expecting to see the object again, but it disappeared entirely. I grunted to myself as I put the fabric back and then dropped the black article back on top of that one. The glittering object returned. I sighed as I realized that the object, most likely the necklace, was hidden within whatever black lingerie was folded in the drawer. This meant I needed to remove all the clothing piled on top to reach it, and I didn’t like the idea of leaving behind an obviously tampered with drawer.
Still, I had no choice. If I wanted Diana to be charged with Vann’s murder, I needed evidence of her affair with him. In the end, it didn’t matter if I left everything as I found it. Once I found the necklace, I needed to do something with it to prevent Diana from getting rid of it. I couldn’t take the necklace with me because it would destroy the chain of evidence. The only idea that came to mind was to hide it elsewhere in the house and then tell Ansong where to look for it once she had her search warrant.
I carefully lifted up the stack of folded bras and set it on top of the dresser. Two more pieces of lingerie were folded on top of the one I actually wanted, and so I removed them to be placed next to the stack of bras. Finally, I could grab the black lingerie, and unfolding it revealed a bodysuit covered in straps that stretched primarily across the chest area. One of the straps that reached across the breast cup had a silver chain looped around it.
The pendant was hidden on the inside of the bodysuit, behind the breast cup, and I’ll admit I felt a little squirrely as I reached inside. I laughed in relief as I felt a pendant inside the cup, and I pulled it out so I could check the design.
The stone in the center winked at me as I pulled out the nautical pendant. I felt myself grinning until I realized that I had to clean up the mess I’d made and return downstairs without raising Diana’s suspicions. I set the necklace on top of the dresser and then carefully returned all of the clothing in the proper sequence. When that was done, I closed the drawer, stood up straight, and
then grabbed the necklace from the top of the dresser.
I needed to find a new hiding spot quickly since I knew I was pushing my luck with the amount of time I had spent upstairs. It was just a matter of time before Diana became suspicious by my ridiculously long visit to the bathroom, though I had an excuse ready if she asked.
I emerged from the closet and stepped back into the bedroom, but I shook my head at the idea. Once Diana discovered the necklace was missing, she would likely turn this room upside-down in her search for it. So where was she least likely to check?
I exited the master bedroom as I thought up several hiding spots, and then I realized the best place to hide the necklace was among Morris’ ships in the bottle collection. She hated the things so much that she barely looked at them, and she certainly wouldn’t expect the necklace to be there. But how could I do that while she was on the first floor?
I walked to the other end of the hallway to what I had dubbed the storage room and went inside. I looked over to the trunks and nodded at the idea of hiding the necklace among Morris’ old obsessions. If she hated the ship models, then she probably hated these reminders of money lost even more.
I removed the duffle bag from the stack of three crates and lifted the latches that locked the top trunk. Inside were neat stacks of several hundred comic books, each in its own protective plastic bag. They filled the entire trunk from end to end, and I realized that even if my client hadn’t bought the really rare and expensive editions, he’d still spent a shitload of money on the things.
The third stack from the right had a Superman comic on top, and I chose this stack to be the hiding place of the necklace. I lifted six comics from the pile, placed the necklace on a comic for Justice League, and then returned the six comics so that they were on top. I closed the trunk, locked the latch, and then returned the duffle bag to its position on the lid of the trunk.
The necklace was secured, and so now the police would have tangible evidence of Diana’s lie. I no longer needed to worry about gaining her trust or being in her house. This meant I was free to exert pressure on her to get her to confess to Vann’s murder.
How was I going to do that, though? As soon as I asked myself the question, I knew the answer. Her wrist. She had already lied on the Arctic Wizard about the condition of her wrist, and so if I revealed her injury, I could then question her about it and ask why she had lied on the boat. Maybe that would be enough to get her to crack.
I exited the storage room quickly and stood at the top of the stairs when I remembered the bathroom. I opened the bathroom door slowly so that it didn’t make a sound, entered, and then closed the door behind me. I felt ridiculous reaching over to flush the toilet, but I didn’t want to give Diana any reason to be suspicious of me. I waited a couple of seconds before opening the bathroom door and shutting off the light. I bounded down the stairs quickly, and I was greeted by the aroma of coffee once I reached the first floor.
“How do you like your coffee?” Diana called from the kitchen as I entered the living room.
“Do you have creamer?” I asked as I stopped in the archway that led to the kitchen.
“Yeah, I do,” she answered as she looked over at me and then smiled.
“Then that’s all I need,” I said as I approached the island.
I took a seat on a barstool, the one closest to the archway, while I watched Diana grab two coffee mugs off the counter. She turned to face me and then set a yellow coffee mug on the island. It was placed in front of the empty barstool, and I figured that was where she planned to sit. I noted that she had chosen the barstool next to me rather than the one on the other end of the island, like last time.
I expected her to place the remaining blue mug in her hand on the counter in front of me, but instead she extended it toward me. I realized I had an opportunity to test her story about the wrist as I reached for the mug. My fingers brushed hers as I took the handle from her with my left hand, and I used my right hand to grab hers before she could retract it. Her palm was pressed against mine, but she didn’t move it.
“Thank you,” I told her as I rubbed my thumb on the back of her hand.
Our eyes made contact as her cheeks flushed a light pink, and I found the display of bashfulness amusing since just moments prior I had been rummaging through her stash of lingerie. I kept her gaze as I extended my index finger to brush the underside of her wrist and then moved my thumb so that it rested on top of her wrist. I rubbed there for a couple of seconds before firmly squeezing, and this elicited a sharp cry from Diana. She flinched, snatched her wrist away, and held it against her chest.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologized as I feigned surprise. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she whimpered as she looked down at her wrist and rubbed it.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “I didn’t think I squeezed too hard.”
“No, it’s not your fault,” she insisted as she looked up at me. “I sprained my wrist.”
“You sprained your wrist,” I repeated as I set my mug down on the island. “When did that happen?”
“I-I don’t know,” she muttered. “I hurt myself all the time. It was probably when I was moving that bucket of ice around earlier today.”
“Oh, is that why you’ve been rubbing your wrist?” I asked and tried not to smile.
“Yeah, I’ve been massaging it,” she admitted as she withdrew her arm from her chest to examine it.
“I thought you said that was a habit,” I reminded her.
She froze and stared at me for a moment, and her eyes then darted away to look at nothing in particular as she spoke.
“It is a habit, but now it actually serves a purpose,” the pale woman explained.
“But earlier you told me, Officer Waska, and Officer Ansong that you weren’t injured at all,” I countered. “You said it was only a habit.”
“I forgot,” she said with a nervous chuckle.
“How do you forget an injury, especially one that causes this much pain?” I asked as I leaned toward her.
The movement caught her eye, and she turned her head to make eye contact with me. The silence between us was heavy as she stared, and after a few moments, I realized I had to be the one to break it.
“A sprained wrist is from tearing some tissue,” I explained. “You seem to think you got the injury from lifting something heavy, like the bucket of ice.”
I made a deliberate pause to look down at my coffee as I let the information set in for her. I tilted my mug slightly as though I was inspecting something in the dark beverage and then released my grip on the mug. I brought my gaze back up to Diana’s face and found her skin had become remarkably pale as she pressed her lips into a thin line.
“You carried ice today, but I recall you rubbing your wrist the first time I met you yesterday,” I finally said. “Was it a habit then, or were you already injured? Did you carry something heavy recently? Before or after Vann’s death?”
She arched her eyebrows as realization appeared on her face, and she frowned as she reached across the island to grab my coffee mug.
“I’m suddenly not feeling well,” she said in a monotone voice as she dumped the caffeinated drink into the sink. “You need to leave so that I can rest.”
This wasn’t the desired response, but it was all I needed to know that she felt backed into a corner. She knew I was onto her, and she hoped making me go away would make the accusation disappear as well. I wasn’t an officer, and so I couldn’t force her to speak to me. I planned on sharing her behavior with Ansong, however, in the hopes the middle-aged officer would use her position of authority to get the pale woman to talk.
“Of course,” I sighed as I stood up from the stool. “I’m sorry for taking up your time.”
She said nothing to me, but instead watched me with unwavering eyes as I walked out of the kitchen. I felt her gaze on my back as I retrieved my coat and shoes from the closet, slipped them on, and then unlocked the fr
ont door. I finally turned around to meet her cold gaze.
“Have a nice night,” I told her as I opened the door and allowed both dazzling sunlight and frigid air to fill the hall.
Again, she said nothing in response, so I shrugged at her silence and exited the house. I immediately heard the door lock behind me before I could even start down the steps. But I didn’t care because we had our killer. I pulled my phone from my pocket as I bounded down the porch steps and dialed Cassandra’s number. The young paralegal answered straight away.
“You’re lucky I like you, this job, and the officers of this town,” she said as soon as she picked up. “Ansong came in hours ago just as I was about to leave and told me to stay a while without offering any explanation. And because she has such a commanding presence, I obeyed and spent the time going through Vann’s phone. Found nothing useful on there, by the way. Yura finished up her testimony a while ago, and I wanted to beg her to stay to keep me company, but she looked so exhausted, mentally and physically, that I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I’ve been cracking jokes with Chris and Onalik in the meantime. But they’re going to have to go home at some point, and I don’t know if I’ll get along with the officers who take their place. I could be relaxing in my hotel room right now, but instead I’m stuck here. I don’t even know what I’m--”
“Cassandra!” I finally yelled, and she gave a startled gasp.
“What?” she yelped.
I sighed as I climbed into my truck and shook my head even though she couldn’t see me. Once I was settled in the driver’s seat, I pinched the bridge of my nose and then lowered my voice.
“Is Ansong still there at the station?” I asked.
“Yeah, she’s in her office,” the paralegal answered.
“Good, give her your phone,” I ordered.
“Okay, fine,” she sighed. “But can you tell me what’s going on as I walk over there?”
