Without a Doubt

by Nancy Cole Silverman

  I took the loupe from the palm my hand and studied it. On the rim was a small inscription. To Celine, from Tomas with love.

  I cupped my hand around the loupe. Finally, I had proof. The Wigged Bandit, the redheaded woman, Tomi, and Tomas, I knew they were all the same person. I had identified photos and knew the voice. And now, with the loupe in my hand, I had evidence that tied Tomas to Ms. Pero. My excitement was almost palpable.

  “Was Ms. Pero’s first name Celine?”

  “I suppose. I never called her by her first name. Like I said, our relationship was professional. To me, she was always Ms. Pero.”

  “Do you remember where Ms. Pero was before the explosion occurred?”

  “She’d been in and out of the vault. There were some items on the counter she was showing a customer. I got the feeling she was about to finish up, and when Carmen came in, I asked her to fetch me Miss Taylor’s necklace from the vault. I thought Carmen would like to see what her sister was wearing to the awards show.”

  “Are you certain you asked her? And that Ms. Pero didn’t suggest it?”

  “Oh dear.” Churchill paused, his eyes squinted as he furrowed his brow and tried to recall. “I’m afraid, Ms. Childs, I’m really not sure.”

  I desperately needed him to remember. I wanted him to help me recreate the scene. I needed to have a clear idea where everyone was leading up to the explosion.

  “Mr. Churchill, I know things happened very quickly, and that it was all very upsetting, but can you walk me through everything, exactly as you remember it? Starting from when Carmen came in that morning?”

  “I remember Carmen was in a rush. I asked if she’d like to see the necklace her sister planned to wear and suggested Ms. Pero get it, but Carmen said she didn’t have time. She handed me the eyeglass case with the jewels inside like she always does, then asked if I’d fix the clasp on a necklace she had and double-check the mounts on a pair of earrings. She slid them across the counter and next thing I know, she and her escort were out the door.”

  “And then what happened? I mean, before the bomb went off. There had to be a couple of seconds before the explosion, because I remember seeing Carmen get into a limousine parked outside and leave before anything happened.”

  “Yes, I guess there was.” He paused. His eyes glanced down at the counter between us and then back to me. “I’m afraid it’s a bit embarrassing. After Carmen left, my stomach started acting up again. It wasn’t something I could postpone. I left the black case with Carmen’s jewels beneath the counter and told Ms. Pero I had an emergency. I remember shutting the door between the showroom and office suite in the back. I suppose I was embarrassed and didn’t want her to see me going to the loo. The result, I’m sorry to say, was devastating. Ms. Pero was locked in the showroom. If she’d just stepped into the back office, behind the security door, she would have been fine.”

  I looked behind the counter at a doorway leading to the back of the store. The door was heavy metal and stood as the first line of defense between the front of the shop and the vault. It would have been more than enough to withstand the explosion, and if Ms. Pero had been behind it, she might be alive today. Churchill’s unexpected return to the store that morning and his sudden dash to the washroom had cost her life.

  “And what about the redheaded woman? The one the police have on videotape? Where was she when the bomb went off?” I couldn’t imagine the Wigged Bandit would have been in the store at the time of the explosion. The sound shock alone might have caused her a concussion.

  “That’s just it. She wasn’t in the showroom when the bomb went off. She followed Carmen out the door when she left. I didn’t think much of it. Just thought she might have been a fan. You know, chasing after a celebrity for a signature. You see it all the time. But the police tell me they think she’s the one who planted the bomb. That she dashed out and then came back in and stole the jewels Ms. Pero had left on the counter along with Carmen’s black eyeglass case.”

  “Except she didn’t get Liz Taylor’s La Peregrina necklace. It wasn’t on the counter.”

  “I’ve wondered about that. When I realized Carmen didn’t have time to see it I asked Ms. Pero to put it back in the vault. But the coroner found it on her person. The police think Ms. Pero panicked when she realized I’d shut the door to the back and forgot to leave it on the counter with the other jewels and Carmen’s black case. Whatever happened, it appears the explosion either caused her to fall into one of the glass display cases and cut her neck or she was hit by flying glass. I don’t suppose I’ll ever know.”

  “And the security guard, Mr. Paley, where was he when the bomb went off?”

  “He’d gone outside for a smoke right after we opened. Usually does in the morning. Always about the same time. I didn’t see him again until after the explosion.”

  I walked the showroom and studied the outside double-door entrance. It would have been easy enough for the Wigged Bandit to slap a small explosive device on Westin’s front door and maybe even another smoke bomb beneath one of the counters inside. All the Bandit had to do was wait until Carmen made her delivery and when she left, follow her out the door. Exactly like Churchill had described.

  After that—depending on the type of explosive device used—she probably hit a remote button on her cell phone and triggered the explosion. The sound, not to mention the commotion of such a thing, provided just enough of a cover for her to dash in, steal whatever jewels Ms. Pero had left out for her, plus the black eyeglass case, and leave. The smoke would have been so thick she probably didn’t even notice Ms. Pero’s body on the floor behind the glass counter.

  I shook my head. She had to have been hanging around somewhere safely down the street, watching me cover the scene while she changed her identity. And when I finished my report, there she was, this little old lady with shopping bags, walking back toward the parking garage, in need of my help. I stared at the big double doors, the entrance to Westin’s. Strong and secure. She must have been surprised by my offer and delighted at the same moment. I was exactly what she needed, the perfect cover, and she used me. While I didn’t have a clue about who she really was or what she had in her bags, she knew exactly what she was doing. She had everything she needed in those bags: the stolen jewels, a change of clothes, and probably another wig.

  I was about to leave when an antique grandfather clock standing next to the front door chimed one o’clock. Churchill looked like he was ready for a break.

  “Just one more question. Did you ever suspect Carmen might have been skimming off the top?”

  “You mean stealing from her husband?”

  “I noticed at the awards show you had to ask her about the ring she’d forgotten to leave with you the day of the robbery. I was wondering if there were other items.”

  “There were times I noticed her delivery didn’t match up with the list of jewels Diaz was selling. Sometimes I suspected she was taking things. For the most part, I considered it a cost of doing business. The ring, however, was an unusual piece. It’s believed to have once belonged to Spain’s Duchess of Alba, who recently died. I’m afraid I couldn’t let that pass.”

  I thanked Churchill for his time. With the inscribed jeweler’s loupe in my hand, I had found the proof I needed. I walked out of Henry Westin’s feeling victorious. As for Carmen, I still wasn’t certain how much she knew when she died. However, I was beginning to believe the reason she was killed wasn’t so much because Donatella wanted to be the next Mrs. Umberto Diaz de la Roca, but because Carmen had discovered the truth about Diaz’s team, and Donatella couldn’t have that.

  Chapter 32

  I called Nina from my car on the way home. The reception up Beverly Glen through the canyon could be pretty sketchy, but I wanted to talk with her about Tomas as soon as possible. I figured with all the time she spent at the barn she had to know something about him. Where he was from. How he came to work
for Diaz. I clutched the jeweler’s loupe in my hand as I drove, too excited to let it out of my sight. The inscription, showing both Celine and Tomas’ names on the loupe, had to be proof Tomas was connected to Ms. Pero. In my opinion, the jeweler’s loupe, in addition to Liz Taylor’s pearl necklace found on her body the morning of the robbery, was one more nail in Ms. Pero’s coffin, pointing to her being the inside contact for the Westin’s robbery.

  After several rings, Nina answered the phone. She sounded breathless. “Carol! I’m so glad it’s you. I was just about to call. You won’t believe what’s happened. The police are back.”

  “Are you at the barn?” I hoped so. Another set of eyes and ears at the ranch might be helpful right now.

  “Yes, and Diaz is going crazy. I’ve never seen him so upset. The police are talking to Donatella.” I heard a click through on the line. Someone else was trying to reach Nina. She sounded impatient. “Can you hold a minute? I’ve got another call.”

  Nina put me on hold while I imagined the scene at the ranch with Diaz. I wasn’t surprised the police had gone back to talk to Donatella. If Eric had wanted me to broadcast that sources close to the investigation found no reason to delay Diaz’s return trip to Europe in hopes of shaking things up, I figured this was them doing more of the same.

  I doubted they were going to arrest Donatella. Proving Bunny’s death hadn’t been an accident was going to be difficult, but I knew the cops would make a scene of it. Do what they could to make Donatella think they suspected her and hope it makes her nervous. Enough so that she would believe she was about be left behind when the team left on Sunday, and maybe even confess.

  An enthusiastic Nina came back on the line. “That was Mimi. I told her the police were here and she’s all excited. This is good news, right?”

  “I don’t know, Nina. But that’s not why I called. I want to talk to you about Tomas. Have you seen him around?”

  “Not since before Bunny’s accident. Why?”

  I didn’t have time to explain to her that Tomas was the Wigged Bandit or how I knew. Instead, I said, “I need to know what you know about him.”

  “Only that he’s one of Diaz’s teammates. I don’t know any of them very well. They live in the guesthouse on the ranch and they stick to themselves. They’re thick as thieves. What’s going on?”

  I paused at Nina’s word choice before answering. “I was wondering if you knew how he came to work for Diaz.” There was a long pause. Long enough that I wondered if our connection had been lost as I drove through the canyon. “Nina?”

  “It was after the accident in Florida. Diaz couldn’t get anyone to work for him. Like I told you before, everybody thought he was jinxed and he was depressed. I had never seen him so dark. He was drinking and for a while I thought maybe he’d go back to Europe and disappear. Then one day, he told me Donatella had heard about a group of equestrians performing with a traveling circus in Europe. They had fallen on hard times and were looking for work. Next thing I know, Diaz flew home to Europe and suddenly he’s got a new team together. He loved them right away. He thought Tomas was a genius, and his team was magic with the horses. They could get them to do anything he wanted. He said it was like Tomas could speak their language.”

  “Do you think maybe Donatella might have lied about just hearing about a group of equestrians looking for work? That maybe she knew Tomas before the accident and arranged for Diaz to meet him because of it?” The line went quiet again. “Nina? Are you there?”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That Donatella may have had something to do with the death of Diaz’s horses? That she used their deaths to introduce Diaz to Tomas?”

  “I don’t know, Nina. Did she know about drugs Diaz made up to treat the horses for exhaustion when they traveled?”

  “Probably. The team traveled regularly and the horses were her responsibility. They had to be injected after every trip, before a game. She could have easily tampered with drugs without his knowing. He trusted her implicitly.”

  “You think she’d actually do that?”

  I wasn’t so sure. I could easily have pegged Donatella for a fortune hunter or maybe even part of a ring of international jewel thieves, but for someone to deliberately kill twenty-one horses seemed extreme.

  “I think Donatella tried to kill my sister, Carol, and she succeeded. And the cops aren’t here right now because they want to talk with her about riding lessons. I think they suspect she had something to do with Bunny’s death too, and I have trouble believing anyone—particularly a trainer—would leave Diego in the crossties alone.”

  I paused. Nina sounded so sure of herself. I couldn’t help but think how similar I must have sounded to Eric. But without any witnesses or real proof, it was all conjecture, nothing that could secure an arrest or stand up in court. I needed more. I asked, “Did you know that Donatella and the woman who died in the explosion at Westin’s had the same last name? It was Pero.”

  “And you think there’s a connection?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but I think there’s something there. I’ve just been to see Mr. Churchill at Westin’s. He gave me a jeweler’s loupe that had been hers. And there’s an inscription on it. ‘To Celine, from Tomas with love.’ I think Tomas is the same Tomas you have at the barn, and that he and Celine may have been lovers.”

  “And you think Donatella’s related?”

  “I do. And that they’re all in this together.” I explained how after the robbery in Beverly Hills, Kari Rhodes had invited Detective Lewis on the air to talk about the recent rash of robberies, the history of some of the bigger jewelry heists, and the mindset of those involved. “He described them as a very different bunch, highly trained and knowledgeable in their craft. They’re known to take their time to plan and as a result seldom get caught, and the jewels nearly always disappear.”

  “If you’re right, then Donatella was after a whole lot more than just Diaz.”

  “I think Donatella might have been bait for Diaz. That it didn’t take too much to imagine he’d find her attractive—she looked a lot like Carmen—and that whoever she’s working for figured she’d fit right into his world. All she had to do was play along. And once the horses were dead and Diaz’s riders left him, it was easy for a new team to slip into place, and Donatella knew exactly who that should be.”

  “If Donatella never wanted to marry Diaz, why kill Carmen?”

  “I don’t think she meant to kill Carmen. I think she wanted to scare her. The coroner’s report said the copper sulfate alone wouldn’t have killed her. Your sister died because she choked to death. It’s still murder, but I think your sister may have noticed every time she made a delivery for Diaz that the store was robbed shortly after. It probably seemed a little too coincidental at first. She may have even recognized Tomas in his various disguises and started to put two and two together. If Tomas knew Carmen recognized him, he may have been afraid she’d go to Diaz and tried to blackmail her. Or maybe the other way around, Carmen may have attempted to blackmail Tomas. Like you said, your sister wasn’t above skimming off the top of Diaz’s deliveries, and maybe she saw a way to get even more. After all, if Carmen divorced Diaz, she walked away empty-handed. But this way, she may have thought she’d have something. We may never know, but either way, I think Carmen was killed for what she knew, or what Tomas and Donatella thought she knew.”

  “And what about the police? What do they know?”

  “I know there’s a big investigation going on, and things take time. But if I’m right, this police visit to the ranch to talk with Donatella is nothing more than an attempt to shake things up. See if they can’t scare her and maybe get her to lead them to Tomas.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Then Diaz, Donatella, and his team are going to get on a plane on Sunday and we may never find out who murdered your sister or stole the jewels
.”

  Chapter 33

  Kari was back on the air Friday morning. She was feeling better, and while still quarantined, she had managed to convince Tyler she was well enough to broadcast once again from the bedroom of her Hollywood Hills home. Today’s hot topic: Celebrating the holidays in a time of stress. With her on the air, via the magic of phone patches, was the famous pop psychologist Dr. Murray Merriweather, a bowtied busybody whose column frequently appeared in the Beverly Hills Courier.

  I entered the studio filled with the sound of their voices and took a seat behind the console. I had twenty minutes until my top of the hour news report, and I wanted the time alone to process the recent chain of events and organize my thoughts. In the absence of either Kari or Bunny, the studio felt empty, cold, and gray. Just two days ago Bunny stood right where I was sitting, dressed in her moss green camouflage fatigues, and read me the riot act. Telling me I didn’t have the chops or the wherewithal to do the job she was going to do. That I let my personal relationship get in the way of my career.

  Losing Bunny hurt, and so did the truth. Bunny wasn’t entirely wrong; I had played it safe, and I was determined to change that. While Kari and Dr. Merriweather chatted on the air, I pulled up my notes. I wanted to include news about the robberies in my morning news break, something new, something our listeners didn’t know, that might prompt Tomas to call the station. I picked up the inside studio line and called Detective Lewis.

  From within the news booth, I cut the sound so Kari, Dr. Merriweather, and KCHC’s listeners couldn’t hear my conversation. I needed to recap with Lewis the crime as I understood it. While the FBI couldn’t talk freely with me, there were things Lewis could talk about. His role with the robberies had been altogether different. He wasn’t working undercover with the FBI, but jointly on the robbery task force. As long as he didn’t reveal what the FBI was doing, he could talk about the robberies in a more general sense, specifically those he’d studied internationally. If I was lucky, he might have something I could use as an update for today’s report.