Hi Wes,
Tip: Diane Hawkins, the librarian, is the fake Ava. She’s in the police station now, under arrest. So is Orson Thompkins. Details to follow. You’re welcome.
Josie
Knowing Wes, I bet his first question would be to ask if I took photos.
I was just finishing writing an e-mail to Ty when Ellis entered the room. I added xo and sent it off.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” I turned toward Room Two, where Diane continued to fret and fume. “You can tell a lot from body language.”
He gazed into each room for a minute, then said, “Which is why I’ll let Diane stew for a while longer.” He faced me. “You ready?”
“Yes.”
He ensured the audio settings were correct so I could hear but not be heard, reminded me to text him anytime, and left. Two minutes later, he entered Room One. My phone buzzed. It was Wes. As expected, his text read Thanks, Joz! Take photos.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Ellis said to Thompkins.
At his words, Thompkins lifted his head. If anything, he looked even more frightened now than he did in the hotel room when I’d noticed him trembling.
Ellis sat at the head of the table, directly opposite Orson Thompkins.
“Let’s get the logistics out of the way.” He read the Miranda warning, which Thompkins signed without comment; explained that video cameras were recording their conversation; recited who was in the room, the date, and time; then asked, “Can we get you anything? A glass of water? Some coffee.”
“I’m okay.”
“You have a commercial driver’s license with a hazmat endorsement. To get it, you had to submit your fingerprints. That’s how we know you’re Calvin Miller.”
My mouth opened, then closed. Cal Miller. Orson Thompkins used Miller’s address. It was such a simple idea—use a different name and your own address—yet it never occurred to me.
“Who is Diane Hawkins to you?”
Cal swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “My half sister.”
“She asked you to help her steal the lamp?”
“What? No! We weren’t stealing a lamp. I was helping her sell it.”
Ellis sat back at his ease. “Really … Tell me about it.”
“Diane bought it at a garage sale thinking it was a cheesy replica—then realized it might have real value.”
“Connect the dots for me. Why did she need you to pretend to be Edwin Towson?”
“She said that if she tried to sell the lamp with no history, she’d get pennies on the dollar, but if she went in with a solid and real story, she’d get what it was worth. No one would ever know. No one would get hurt. The lamp was real and honestly acquired. She just needed the story.”
“And she learned about Towson how?”
“She’s a librarian, you know? Good at research. She got the info from some article in a business journal. Towson’s a famous finance guy, so he gets written up all the time.”
I texted: Not true. The lamp’s history has never been published.
Ellis’s phone vibrated. He tapped the screen and read for a moment. Message received.
“What did you think of Ava Towson?” Ellis asked.
“The wife? I never met her.”
“How about the house. It’s something, isn’t it?”
Cal looked confused. “I never saw it.”
“How about Jean Cooper?”
He flipped open his palms. “I’ve never even heard of her.”
“Why did your sister use you at all? Why didn’t she just make the call herself pretending to be Ava?”
“The article was clear—the lamp had been in Edwin’s family, not Ava’s. Diane said any antiques appraiser, especially one as high-level as Prescott’s, would find the same article, know who the real owner was, and want to talk to him. She needed a man.”
I saw Diane’s point. There was no article, but since the history actually related to Edwin’s family, not Ava’s, if my only contact had been Ava, I would have worried that a wife was trying to sell a valuable object out from under her husband’s nose, and I would have insisted on talking to him directly. The last thing Diane wanted was an antiques appraiser tracking down the real Edwin Towson to ask him about his Tiffany lamp.
Ellis rat-a-tat-tatted a steady beat with his pen against the table edge. “We have a serious situation here, Calvin. Ava Towson was murdered.”
Miller jerked forward, his jaw dropping, grasping the table as if he might fall over without holding on. “What?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No. I’ve been on the road for more than a week. I just got back. Murdered?”
“Jean Cooper was her sister. She was killed, too.”
Cal stared at him, stunned into silence.
“Jean was killed with a .45,” Ellis said. “Just like the gun Diane had in her bag.”
“I didn’t even know Diane had a gun.”
“I thought you two were close.”
Cal lowered his eyes to his hands. “I thought we were, too.”
“Did she promise you a cut when the lamp sold?”
“That’s not how she put it, but sure. She said we were family.”
Ellis waited for more. When it didn’t come, he asked, “Did you grow up together?”
“I didn’t know she existed until about five years ago.”
“So you would have been eighteen. You’re fifteen years younger than she is.”
“Right.”
“How did you connect?”
“She called me.” He raised his eyes from his hands to Ellis’s face. “I was shocked to hear from her. I had no idea she existed.”
“What did your dad say about it?”
“He died of a heart attack when I was seventeen. My mom died a couple of years before that, of breast cancer, so all I know is what Diane told me. She said she never saw him after he left when she was three. Her mom was plenty bitter.” He paused for a moment, thinking of what he wanted to say, or maybe trying to find the right words. “Diane always had this fantasy that the reason Dad never got in touch with her was that he traveled all the time. Then, after her mom died, she learned that it had all been a lie. Her mom told her that her dad had moved to Santa Monica and left no forwarding address. The truth is he was here in Portsmouth, one town over from Rocky Point, the whole time and she never knew it. He paid alimony and child support every month. Her mom used a PO box so Diane would never catch on.”
“That’s cold.”
“Brutal.”
“How did she figure it out?”
“She discovered an envelope marked ‘Deceased: Return to Sender’ among her mother’s papers. Inside was a nasty letter her mother had written to Dad demanding her alimony. That gave Diane his last known address—Portsmouth.”
“That’s a pretty sad story.”
“I’ll say. It’d do something to you, to learn all that after the fact. She couldn’t even confront her mother because she was dead, too.”
“So Hawkins is Diane’s married name?”
“Right. Until then, she went by Lerner. She said her mom jettisoned the Miller name along with the Miller man. Lerner had been her mother’s maiden name.”
“Her dad never mentioned you to her?”
“Not once. I didn’t even know he’d ever been married before.”
“Are you an only child?”
“Uh-huh. My folks thought they couldn’t have kids, then, surprise! Here I came.”
“Finally, you have a sister, and now you learn she’s been lying to you for months.”
“I know.” He kneaded the back of his neck for a moment. “I don’t know what to think.”
“What’s Diane like?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I thought I did, but now … I just don’t know.”
“You said you didn’t know she had a gun—is that right?”
“Hell, no! She’s anti guns. She used to tease me about going hunting, telling me that until yo
u give deer guns, it’s not a fair fight.” He lowered his eyes again and resumed studying his hands. “Did Diane kill those women?”
“Looks that way.”
He raised his eyes and looked around as if he might find answers in the room’s corners. “What happens now?”
“Once you and I are done talking, I’ll meet with the ADA.”
“He’s the person who decides what charges to bring against me.”
“Yes.”
“Would you tell him that I didn’t know? That I didn’t understand?”
* * *
Diane was out for bear. The minute Ellis stepped into Interview Room Two, she snapped, “About time! I’ve been waiting for hours.”
“I apologize for the delay. I needed to talk to Cal first.”
“Cal?” she said, fire still smoldering in her eyes.
“Your brother … or rather, your half brother.” He pointed to the chair nearest to where she stood. “Have a seat. Let’s get the logistics out of the way.”
She didn’t move. Her glare was contemptuous.
Ellis repeated the same spiel he gave Cal, with different results.
She placed her hands on her hips. “Forget it. I’m not signing anything.”
“Here’s a written statement of your rights. Read it, please.” Ellis eased a single sheet of paper from his folder and slid it across the table. “All your signature says is that it was given to you and you understand it.”
She shoved the paper aside without even glancing at it. It skittered off the table and fell to the ground.
Ellis didn’t move to retrieve it. Neither did she.
“I can’t talk to you unless you sign it.”
Diane placed her hands on the chair back and leaned forward, flirtatiously showcasing her bosom. “What a shame … I was so looking forward to getting to know you better.”
“You’re a great actress, Diane. For real. I’ve seen you in Gypsy, Annie Get Your Gun, and Chicago. You’ve got major league pipes. My wife was a Broadway dancer, so I’ve been to a thousand shows. You could have competed in the big time.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“No flattery.”
“You’re good. Very good. But it’s all for naught.” She sat down, relaxed and smiling. “I want a lawyer.”
* * *
Ellis rejoined me in the Observation Room.
“Now what?” I asked.
“You go home with the thanks of a grateful police chief.”
“And come back when?”
“Tomorrow. I don’t know when.”
“What’s going to happen?”
Ellis turned toward the now empty Room Two. “We hope Cal gets himself a good lawyer.”
I followed Ellis’s gaze. Our reflections shimmered on the glass that separated us from the empty, dark room. It was a terrible thing to take advantage of someone’s innocence. It takes a special kind of evil to betray family.
“I heard from Olive, one of the book club members, that Diane has vacation plans,” I said.
“A three-week trip to Indonesia.”
“Bali?”
“And Jakarta.”
“How do you know?”
“E-mail confirmations. We checked her phone first thing to see if she had additional accomplices.”
“Did you find any?”
“No.”
“We have no extradition treaty with Indonesia. Jean was going somewhere, too. Remember? Kirk Trevis from her condo said she asked about subletting.”
“Cape Cod. She rented an oceanfront cottage for August through the end of the year.”
“I wonder why.”
“Grief, maybe. Some people like to be alone.”
“Perhaps.” I turned away from the darkened window.
“The ADA is going to want to talk to you as well.”
I ripped a sheet of paper from the small spiral-bound notebook I carry in my tote bag and wrote down Max’s name and phone number under the heading The best lawyer in Rocky Point. I handed it to Ellis. “Would you give this to Cal?”
Ellis read it. “I can’t.”
“He needs a good lawyer. You said so.”
“True, but as the police chief, I can’t tell him so.”
“He’s a kid.”
“He’s an adult.”
“Can he have visitors?”
“Not yet.”
“Can’t you see he gets this? Somehow?”
“I’m sorry, Josie. If he has a note in your handwriting … you’re an aggrieved party … can’t you see the traps looming in front of us?”
I crumpled the paper and tossed it in the trash can.
He patted my arm. “You have a good heart.”
“I just want him to get a fair shake.”
“He will.”
Ellis walked me out. I waved good-bye and left. Outside in the fresh, salty air, I stretched, arching my back. A warm breeze was blowing in from the west. The weatherman had predicted rain by evening, but the storm seemed to have passed us by. To the west, the still-thick clouds were backlit with pink and yellow streaks from the setting sun.
I had thought that once I knew who was behind the theft and murders, I would feel a sense of relief, that I would feel good, but I didn’t. I felt sad. From what Cal said and what Diane didn’t, she betrayed him for money. The Bible doesn’t say that money is the root of all evil. It says the love of money is the root of all evil, and you only had to witness Diane’s final performance to see the truth in that.
CHAPTER FORTY
I crossed the street and climbed a dune.
The ocean was midnight blue laced with riffles of chop running on the diagonal.
I reached Edwin at his office.
“We found the lamp. It’s safe.”
“Where?”
I told him, the two-minute version.
“That’s quite a story.”
“I’m just glad the plan worked. I have to ask … Now that the lamp is back safe and sound, would you reconsider allowing it to be featured on my show? Anonymously, of course.”
“I’ll think about it. I have a call I need to take.”
And he was gone.
I was tempted to call Timothy, but I didn’t want to deliver half a story and get his hopes up. He’d hear the news, though, so I needed to update him. I opted for e-mail.
The lamp has been found intact. Yay! Edwin has agreed to think about letting us use it. I’ll keep you posted.
There was nothing more I could do, and I knew it.
* * *
Wes called me at home on Thursday morning. I glanced at the oversized clock mounted above the refrigerator, a Chessman original.
“Wes, I can’t believe you’re calling me so early! It’s not even seven in the morning!”
“Early bird, Joz. That’s me. Listen … I’m pitching an article to Drop a Dime, you know it, don’t you? The monthly that runs those exposés of the rich and famous? Anyway, my hook is the Tiffany lamp, natch. I’m listing you as a primary source, with an exclusive. When can we meet so you can give me a couple of quotes? How’s now?”
“First, I think you just called me a worm. Second, you can’t have an exclusive. Third, I’ll be glad to give you a few quotes. Fourth, now is good. I’ll buy you breakfast at Ellie’s.”
“What do you mean I can’t have an exclusive?”
I chuckled. Wes was so predictable.
“See you soon,” I said, and hung up.
I knew how our breakfast would go. Wes would position his demand for an exclusive as fair and reasonable. When I still refused to agree to his terms, he’d sigh to his toenails, making his profound disappointment in me obvious. I’d remain unmoved. Then he’d get to work. He’d ask smart questions, and I, knowing the kind of tantalizing quotes he needed to land the assignment, would make certain he got them.
Before I left, I checked my e-mail. Timothy had replied with characteristic wit and business acumen.
You are a steely-eyed wonder
woman. Can we use the rescue story in the episode? (I bet the owner says yes.)
* * *
“The whole idea was simple,” I said, after savoring a bite of Ellie’s impossible-to-replicate ham and cheese crêpe, “not just Diane’s disguise. Ava and Jean planned it together. Ava didn’t want to risk Edwin discovering that she switched the lamp. She was smart about that. Edwin is a brilliant businessman and hard as granite. One whiff that he’d been conned and he would have been relentless in pursuing her. So they organized everything down to the smallest detail, and they were super cautious. This plan of theirs was in the works for months, ever since Ava learned she was pregnant. We know the timeline since we know when Cal bought the disposable phones in Boston. Ava gave Jean the hundred and twenty-five thousand she got when she closed out her bank account. Jean bought the replica lamp and brought it over to Ava’s house the Monday morning I was scheduled to examine the original. They knew I’d take the real lamp away to do the appraisal, so the replacement had to be ready to go.”
Wes nodded as he jotted a note. “Right, and we know this because of the voice mails and texts the police recovered when they picked up those disposable phones.”
“Exactly. Pretty much, that’s all we know. The rest is speculation, but it all fits. The day I returned the genuine lamp after appraising it, Jean picked it up and brought it to her condo. Merry said she saw Jean in the living room with the box that supposedly contained shoes and boots. Why was she in the living room? The cedar closet is upstairs. That’s why she asked Merry not to mention it to the police, to avoid their getting … ha-ha … sidetracked. It seems to me their plan would have worked except that Diane got greedy. Jean gave her twenty-five thousand dollars to split with Cal. Cal said Diane gave him five thousand dollars, which was fine for the little bit he had to do. On the one hand, if you have nothing, twenty-five thousand seems like a lot of money, and so does five thousand. On the other hand, when you find out there’s likely to be more than a million dollars on the table, suddenly twenty-five thousand seems like an insult. Everything is relative.”
The Glow of Death Page 27
