“Yes, quite a coincidence,” I echoed, wishing she weren’t constantly popping up in my life.
“What do you have there?” my father asked.
“A statue of a cat,” I said, opening the box to show them. “My Secret Santa gift.”
My father and Mariel made a fuss about it, saying it was lovely. “And there’s the perfect spot for it,” Mariel said, pointing to the long low table against the window. I put it down and had to agree she was right.
“How are you feeling?” I asked Jim.
“Not bad.”
“I called you earlier today, but you didn’t answer,” I told him.
“I went out for a short while.” He laughed, sounding embarrassed. “I felt a bit dizzy, so I came right back. Decided I’d better take it easy the next few days.”
“Did you need something? There’s plenty to eat in the refrigerator.”
“I needed a breath of fresh air. And to buy a newspaper.”
“I brought dinner over,” Mariel said.
I sniffed the fragrant aroma of Chinese food. “Smells good.”
“There’s some left in the fridge,” Jim said.
I laughed. “Thanks, but I had plenty to eat at the party.”
Mariel stood and gathered up her cup and Jim’s. “It’s time I started for home,” she said.
“Thanks for looking after my—Jim,” I said, hoping for some explanation. Who had called whom? What was going on here?
Mariel smiled. “My pleasure. I’m glad he’s well enough to have left the hospital.”
I walked her to the door, then stopped in the kitchen to feed Smoky Joe. That accomplished, I rejoined Jim in the living room.
I plopped down on the sofa and put my feet up on the coffee table. “Are you two an item?” I asked, more to hear his response than because I imagined there was anything between them.
“Not yet, but things may be heading in that direction.”
I stared at him.
He laughed. “Shocked? Older people have relationships, you know.”
My brain knew they did, but this was my father! “I wouldn’t think she’s your type—not that I’d know what your type might be,” I said archly.
Jim shrugged. “Actually, in our case, it’s mostly a business deal.”
I grimaced. “Oh, no! Don’t tell me.”
“I’m afraid so. Mariel and I are both after the gems that Benton hid. We agreed to go fifty–fifty.”
My heart pounded when I asked, “Does she know where they are?”
“No, but now that she’s given it some thought, she has a good idea where they might be. She’d hired Tom Quincy to find them, but he managed to get himself knocked off. Mariel’s glad he’s out of the picture, especially after I filled her in on his background. She realizes she was a fool to trust him.”
“Why did she?”
“Quincy introduced himself at the wake, pretending to be Benton’s good pal and confidante. He told her about the gems, which she had no idea existed. He offered to find them for her for a fee. She agreed, but after talking to him a few times, she began to suspect he’d only pumped her for information about her husband and planned to keep the gems for himself.”
I thought this over carefully. “Maybe Mariel killed Quincy when she realized he was using her.”
Jim looked at me in disbelief. “Are you kidding? Mariel would never hurt a fly. Though someone did us both a favor by knocking him off. Can you imagine the nerve of the guy—out to steal what some of us worked so hard to get.”
I burst out laughing. “Poor, Jim. I can’t believe you’re first discovering there’s no honor among thieves.”
He sighed. “Caro, won’t you consider calling me ‘Dad’? You used to call me ‘Daddy.’”
“Sure, when I was little, but even when you weren’t in prison, you were hardly ever around. I missed you so much, it hurt less when I thought of you as just another adult. I’ll need some time to consider calling you ‘Dad.’”
“Fair enough.”
“How long are you planning to stay?” This time, I added silently.
“Too early to say, but I’ll be here through the holidays.”
“Sure, while you search for the gems,” I said bitterly.
He turned up his palms. “I won’t lie to you, Caro. I came here to get back my share—and to see you, of course.”
Smoky Joe chose that minute to jump on the sofa beside me and do his after-dinner cleaning. “Where does Mariel think Benton hid them?” I asked casually, as if I were taking nothing more than a polite interest.
“She mentioned a cabin in the woods where he used to go fishing.”
“Oh, no!”
Jim eyed me sharply.
“Sorry. Smoky Joe’s nail caught on my hand,” I fibbed.
“Is it bleeding? Let me take a look.”
I put the back of my hand to my mouth, pretending to lick imaginary blood from my imaginary wound. “It’s nothing.” I got up. “I’d better wash it and put some bacitracin on it.”
Jim stood too. “I’m tired. I’m going to lie down. Good night, honey. See you in the morning.”
He embraced me in a bear hug, making me feel even more guilty for what I was about to do. “And thanks again for letting me stay here. It means a lot to me.”
I closed my bedroom door behind me and called Dina on my cell phone. She answered on the third ring.
“Dina, it’s Carrie.”
“Hi, Carrie. I thought you had a party this evening.”
“I just got in. Your mother was here visiting my dad.”
“So that’s where she went. She wouldn’t tell me when I asked.”
“They’ve joined forces to look for the gems. Your mother wants to check out the cabin.”
“She can’t!” Dina’s cry was heartfelt, which made me realize just how desperate she was to find the gems before her mother did. “Did your father say when they planned to check out the cabin?”
“I know he’s not strong enough to take that kind of trip, at least for the next few days. Though your mother might go searching on her own.”
“I have to stop her.”
“But how?” I asked.
“Let me think.” After a minute she said, “My mother’s been after me to go to her hair stylist and let her have her way with me—hair-wise, that is. Oh! She’s calling me. Gotta go. Talk to you later.”
Twenty minutes later, my cell phone jingled.
“Done!” Dina announced triumphantly. “I told her I was willing to go for a complete makeover—hair, clothes, and makeup. I acted as if I was wavering, that if we didn’t do it ASAP, I might change my mind. And she fell for it—hook, line, and sinker.”
“That’s great, Dina, only we were planning to drive up to your father’s cabin tomorrow morning.”
“That’s the great part! You still can go there! The cabin’s just south of Litchfield, about an hour’s drive from here—less if there’s no traffic. I’ll text you the directions. The key’s under one of the big stones near the back door.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“And where are you off to so early in the morning?” my father asked as I was slipping into my parka.
I spun around and pasted a smile on my face. “I—I’m meeting a friend for breakfast, and then I’ve got some errands to run before I go into work—with the holidays and everything,” I finished lamely. “Can I get you something, Jim? I’ll be swinging by later to pick up Smoky Joe.”
“No, thanks. I plan to run a few errands myself.” He crossed the small hall to hug me.
“Are you okay to drive?”
“I’m feeling stronger today.” He shot me a rueful smile. “I wish you’d go ahead and do it.”
“Do what?”
“Start calling me ‘Dad.’” He winked. “It would be a nice Christmas present.”
“I said I’d think about it.”
Smoky Joe heard me unlock the front door and came running. I bent down to pet him. “Stay here
and be a good boy. I’ll be back for you before you know it.”
Inside my car, I glanced down at my cell phone to reread Dina’s directions to the cabin. It was mostly parkway driving until I turned onto a curvy two-lane road and then onto the narrow country road that led to the cottage.
Check out the master bedroom and the built-ins in the living room. I don’t think he ever installed a safe, but who knows. Text me THE SECOND you find anything. Good luck.
I headed for Route 95 and joined the heavy flow of traffic driving to New Haven. For the twentieth time I considered texting Dina to say I’d decided not to go. I had a slew of reasons: it wasn’t my cabin; we were partners and should be doing this together. But for each reason, I offered up a counter reason: I had Dina’s permission to enter her family’s cabin on my own. She was doing her part by keeping Mariel occupied so she wouldn’t drive to the cabin.
Still, it worried me that I was doing something illegal—semi-trespassing, if there were such a thing—by entering the premises under murky conditions, like searching for stolen gems. And what did Dina expect me to do if I discovered her father had installed a safe? Figure out the combination somehow? Take a hammer and smash it in?
Finding the gems was just as problematic as not finding them. I planned to hand them over to Dylan, which was bound to infuriate my father and Dina. She’d see it as an act of betrayal and might come after me to take revenge.
The murderer would be furious as well.
Who was the murderer? I should have spent more time trying to identify the man or woman who had killed Benton and Quincy. It was someone desperate or callous enough to have killed two people while searching for the stolen gems.
I felt a tremor of fear. What if Dina was the killer? She claimed she didn’t have a car, but her mother did. What if the two of them were in on it together and were planning to drive to the cottage that morning? I shook my head vehemently. That was a ridiculous idea! They certainly wouldn’t want me going there on my own. They wouldn’t want me involved, at all—unless they were afraid I was helping my father and wanted to keep an eye on me. Besides, I doubted that Dina was that good an actress—able to pretend she resented Mariel when all this time they were searching for the gems together.
I refused to consider the possibility that Jim was the murderer. A thief, yes, but never a killer. Besides, he’d been laid up in the hospital when Quincy was murdered.
I had to admit it gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling, knowing how much he wanted me to start calling him “Dad.” The man was evasive and as slippery as an eel, but I was getting used to spending time with him. I liked spending time with him. Lately, except for his criminal proclivities, he’d been doing things a father was supposed to do, like making breakfast and buying Christmas decorations.
But those weren’t among the most important fatherly duties and responsibilities. I couldn’t depend on him the way I depended on my aunt and uncle—trusting him to be around when I needed him. I had to be content with knowing that Jim loved me and was proud of me, and for some reason that still meant a lot.
When I turned onto the two-lane road, the traffic eased up. Soon I was the only car in sight. I passed stately homes, their properties bordered by low fences or walls made of stones. They reminded me of Robert Frost’s poem “Mending Wall” and the famous “Good fences make good neighbors” line. I pictured myself living in one of these houses with my husband and children and working in a nearby library. A fantasy, surely, if the complications and problems in my life right now were any indication of my chance to have a typically normal future.
I made the right turn onto the narrower road and reached my destination without getting lost. For which I was grateful because the trip had taken longer than I’d expected, and I had to be at the library at one o’clock. The cabin was situated on a rise about twenty feet above the road, surrounded by trees on three sides. I pulled onto the snow-covered driveway and tramped around to the rear of the small dwelling. After fumbling under a few large rocks, I found the key and unlocked the back door, which opened onto a small mudroom. A musty smell greeted me, along with a clammy, gripping chill. No heat, of course. Another reason to work as quickly as possible.
Several fishing rods were propped against one wall. I soon discovered that the two tackle boxes on the only shelf were filled with fishing hooks and flies and weren’t concealing a bag full of gems.
It took me a few minutes to examine the kitchen shelves, fridge, and oven carefully. No gems, not even in the half-filled jar of flour. A narrow hall led to a bathroom and two small bedrooms. Dina had told me that when she and her brother were young, the family used to come up to the cabin for two weeks in July, when the jewelry story was closed for vacation, and occasionally on holidays and weekends. Eventually, only their father would come here to fish and swim in the lake below, on the other side of the road.
I pulled up the hood of my parka as I went into the first bedroom that Dina and Richard must have shared when they were small. I opened drawers, looked under mattresses, ran my gloved hand over the shelf in the small closet. Nothing. Searching the master bedroom took a bit longer as I explored the two bureaus and larger closet, but it offered the same results.
The bathroom medicine chest had several bottles of outdated pills. I opened them all but only found pills inside. There was a small breakfront in the dining room area filled with dishes and nothing else. The only item of interest in the living room was a ledger, its pages covered with figures that might be of interest to Benton’s heirs. I examined the built-in bookcases along one wall, pulling out several books at a time to feel behind for a secret panel or safe, but found nothing. No books with cutout spaces in which to hide anything either.
I took down the two paintings hanging above the sofa and felt along the back of each. Nothing. Frustrated, I let out a loud sigh. As far as I could tell, Benton Parr hadn’t hidden the gems in his getaway cabin. Of course, he might have dug a hole in the backyard and buried them there, but I wasn’t about to find out.
As I cast a final glance around the living room to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, the sound of a passing car startled me. I told myself to relax. The Parrs had used the cabin as a weekend and summer vacation home, but there were probably people who lived in the area year-round. Communities changed. Now the Hamptons out on Long Island had many year-round residents. Even Clover Ridge, with its population of close to twenty thousand, was both a year-round and summer community.
I retrieved the key I’d left on the kitchen table and slammed the door shut. I tried the handle. The lock held fast. Once outside, I knelt down to place the key under the same rock where I’d found it. I sensed someone was nearby. Before I could look behind me, I felt an excruciating pain as someone struck my head with a heavy object. I shut my eyes in pain and collapsed on my side. Another blow hammered my skull. Barely conscious, I was aware of hands rummaging through my pockets, then a muttering of curses as he or she ransacked my pocketbook. I heard footsteps running off, the start-up of a car. Then nothing.
The jingle of my cell phone roused me. Someone was calling! I shook my head and immediately regretted having done so when a shooting pain immediately followed. I grabbed the handle of my pocketbook to draw it closer and fumbled for my phone.
“Hello,” I croaked.
“Carrie, what’s wrong?” It was Dylan, sounding more worried than I’d ever heard.
“He hit me over the head. Twice.” I dropped the phone and threw up part of my breakfast.
I could hardly make out his words. “Where are you! I called you at work and at home over an hour ago. Your father said you were out running errands.”
I managed to retrieve the phone. “I’m near Litchfield. At Benton Parr’s cabin.”
“What the hell are you doing there?”
“Looking for—” I stopped when I realized what I was saying.
“Don’t tell me your father asked you to suss out those gems.”
“Of course he didn’t! Jim
doesn’t know where I went, and don’t you tell him.”
“Then why on earth are you looking for them? People have gotten killed over those damn gems.”
“They’re not here.” I tried to laugh and found myself wincing in pain. “The person who hit me was out of luck.”
“The killer, you mean. You’re lucky you’re still alive.”
A tremor racked my body as the truth of his words sank in. “I know. I’m leaving.”
“Are you sure you can drive? You shouldn’t if you’re dizzy or your head hurts a lot.”
“I’m okay,” I lied. “I just want to get back to Clover Ridge ASAP.”
“Don’t speed,” he admonished. “And call me on my cell if you find you’re feeling woozy or have to stop for any reason. I’ll come and get you.”
Despite my throbbing head, I found myself smiling. “That’s sweet of you, but I’ll be fine. I’m heading for home now. I’ll take some aspirin, then go to the library.”
“Carrie, I don’t think—”
I ended the call. Slowly and gracelessly, I rose to my feet and stumbled to my car. I took several deep breaths before setting out for home. I drove slowly and carefully as various thoughts raged through my aching head. I winced as I realized I hadn’t had the slightest inkling that someone had followed me to the cabin. Dylan was right. My assailant might have been the killer—or someone else who was after the gems.
I called Sally to tell her I’d be coming in later than scheduled because I’d had an accident.
“Oh, no! Were you driving?”
“I hurt my head and may stop off at an urgent care facility,” I said to buy time. I didn’t intend to stop for medical attention.
“Poor Carrie. Don’t bother coming in if you’re not up to it.”
“I want to,” I said fervently. I meant it too. Right now I’d feel safest in the library. Surely no one would try to attack me there.
Next, I called Dina. She didn’t answer and my call went straight to voicemail. A minute later she called me back. I heard people speaking in the background.
“Hello, Carrie. Any luck?”
“Nope. No sign of the gems at your father’s cabin. Even worse, I was followed and attacked.”
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