by T. L. Ingham
Chapter Eighteen
I spent the rest of the day researching. Not exactly what I was paid to do, but I knew Pia wouldn't mind. Besides, I had already solved one of her cases, though I was still at a loss as to how to prove it.
My additional research on Howard was less enlightening than my earlier results. More pictures of him partying hard. More pictures of his wife partying hard. But no actual physical evidence of anything else. I couldn't find a birth certificate on the wife (mainly because I did not know her maiden name and had failed to find any reference to it anywhere). Also, I had been unable to locate a marriage license, or a death certificate for either one. Either they were both still alive and kicking somewhere, or there was no record of either of their deaths.
One thing of interest I had found though, was that not long after selling the property to Pia, Howard had liquidated all of his other assets (nothing illegal about that) and 'retired' to some foreign island. There were varying reports as to his location (primarily from gossip columns), but over time people lost interest in his activities and as he had done nothing illegal, no one really cared where he was. Except for me, of course.
The man had to be in his late sixties to early seventies judging by the pictures of his rocking his way through the seventies, eighties and even into the nineties, not long before he had sold the property to Pia. And the whole time, his wife was still beside him. Meaning, if there had been an affair, they had stayed together despite it. Too bad I hadn't furthered my investigation before I had blurted my theory out to Jase. No wonder he thought I was an idiot. Here I was, accusing some wealthy icon of murder most foul, when in reality there was no proof of any such thing. There was no motive. There was no means. There was no case.
I was confused and disgusted. This was getting me nowhere. Shutting down the computer, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling, trying to put the whirling dates in my mind in some sensible order.
1969: Cecilia in a photograph at Woodstock with Alex right behind her.
1974: Howard and Alyssa at a New Year's party with Alex right behind them.
1991: The last known picture of Howard and Alyssa partying hard into their fifties, give or take.
1992: Howard sells the property to Pia along with all of his other assets and disappears into the sunset. Unknown if his wife is with him.
2012: Reid Larson sits in her office giving herself a migraine trying to solve a decades old mystery that might turn out to be nothing at all.
Suddenly there was a tap at the door. Expecting Pia, (it was nearing closing time) I called out to her to come in.
It was Zoe.
Damn. My luck was just awful lately.
"Hey. Did you need something?"
Zoe looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I had these calls for Pia and I don't know what to do about them. Some of them seem pretty important, but she's locked herself in her office all day and won't take any calls. Do you know what she's doing in there?"
"Nothing you need to concern yourself about. Let me see the calls." I leaned forward to take the list from her and as she leaned forward to do the same, her necklace slipped out of her blouse and just as quickly the last piece of the puzzle slipped into place.
"That's a pretty necklace," I told her.
She looked down and fingered it a second before slipping it back under her shirt. "Yeah. It's my sorority necklace from when I was in college."
"It's very unusual." And it was. The pendant itself was in the shape of a turtle, with a pink rose painted on its back, and what looked like a small triangle and a 'Z' right next to it. The writing was so tiny that part was pretty difficult to see, but I was fairly certain I was right.
"Yeah. It's not really official or anything. It's just something me and some of my sisters put together and had made. Just for us, you know."
Yes, because sororities simply weren't exclusive enough. One must have a sorority inside a sorority.
"I'm pretty sure I've seen that somewhere before," I pressed.
Zoe paled. "I don't know why you would have."
"It looks fairly identical to the one Cat slapped herself in the face with that day at the park. So the two of you were sorority sisters, eh? How long did it take you two to plan the scheme to rob Pia? And exactly whose idea was it anyway? I'd bet hers. Somehow I can't see you as the brains of the operation."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Zoe was saying even as she was backing towards the door. Was the idiot actually going to try and make a run for it?
My question was answered as she made her move, throwing the notebook at me while simultaneously wrenching the door open and racing down the hall.
Naturally, I went after her.
I tackled her (something I'm getting to be very good at) in the middle of the showroom floor, only taking out one sculpture in my effort.
"Oh, my God! What is wrong with you?!" Simone shrieked from her position near the front counter.
"Simone! Call the police!" I yelled at her even as I struggled to hold onto Zoe who was not giving up the fight and was wriggling, clawing, and screeching for all she was worth.
"Good God, Reid! What are you doing to that girl?" Giorgio exclaimed.
Pia came running out of her office, no doubt the melee occurring in her gallery had a lot to do with it, and Maya was hot on her heels with Gloria right beside her. They both skidded to a halt on the marble floor only inches from where I lay on top of Zoe, while Gloria bobbed above us. Their reactions were distinctly different.
Maya, who had never liked Zoe to begin with, was doing everything in her power to stem the giggling erupting from her throat, even going to the point of shoving her own fist in her mouth.
Meanwhile, Gloria exclaimed, "Go get 'em Tex! Ride 'em cowboy!"
Pia on the other hand was staring down at me with a hard glare. "Do you honestly think this was necessary, Reid?"
I looked up at her and spit a piece of Zoe's hair out of my mouth. "I caught your thief, Pia. Now will someone please call the police! Ow!" The latter was in response to the hard bite Zoe applied to my hand.
"Oh, dear." Pia said. "Are you certain?"
"Would I be lying on top of her, if I wasn't?"
Another hard look from Pia.
"Okay. Don't answer that. I have been known to jump to conclusions. Still, ask her. She'll tell you."
"I won't tell you any such thing!" Zoe grunted from beneath me. "I don't even know what she's talking about. She's a crazy person! Get her off of me! NOW!"
My mother chose that precise moment to walk in the door. "Sigreid Larson! What are you doing to that girl?!"
"She's a thief, Mom. I'm only holding her until the police get here."
"Isn't there a more appropriate manner in which you can do so?" As usual, she took charge. Noting that there were no customers in the gallery (for which I was extremely grateful), she moved to lock the doors. "All right now; get off of her."
"She'll run, Mom. I promise you."
"Honestly, use your head, Sigreid. Where has she got to go?"
Slowly I did as I was told, preparing for any quick moves on Zoe's part. Sadly, there were none. I really wanted the satisfaction of tackling her into the floor again.
From the look on Maya's face, she was wishing for the same thing.
"Now, what is this all about?"
Quickly I explained to them about the necklace and Zoe's reaction to my accusation.
My mother sighed. "That's hardly evidence. Circumstantial at best. Someone get this poor girl a glass of water. And a band-aid for her knee."
My mother helped Zoe to a chair. "Sigreid, you have got to stop jumping to conclusions. The only thing you know is that this girl might possibly have known another girl who used to work here. There are thousands, probably even millions of girls who are members of sororities. Just because you’re a member of one, doesn't mean you know every other member.
"Now, dear, sip this," my mother was saying even as she handed the water over to Zoe.
Zo
e eyed me over the rim of the glass distrustfully.
Who could blame her? I had just jumped her like I wanted her Gucci wallet.
Maybe my mother was right. Maybe, just like the whole Howard Martin thing, I had jumped to conclusions. Cat and Zoe had acted as if they'd never met each other at the park. Either they were both very good actresses, or they had in fact never met. But if that were the case, why didn't Zoe comment on the necklace? And hadn't Zoe just told me only a few of the girls had purchased these necklaces? It stood to reason that they must know each other.
"Now, Zoe, isn’t it?" my mother was asking. Zoe nodded her answer and my mother continued, "Don't you worry about a thing. I'm quite certain this can all be cleared up in no time. Pia has security cameras all over this place, even in the warehouse. All it will take is a quick review to prove your innocence."
Her guilt more likely.
"I've been doing that all day," Pia informed my mother. "And as of yet I haven't found one lick of evidence that anyone has been taking anything from the warehouse that they haven't been bringing to the floor."
"Well, that's tricky, isn't it?" my mother said. "But, no matter. You see, Giorgio told me about the thefts the last time I was in here and he and I have devised a plan. You haven't told them about it yet, have you?" she asked him.
Giorgio shook his head, clearly befuddled.
"Well, then I shall. You see, the idea was to coat all of the objects in the warehouse with this special fluorescent powder we obtained. It can't be seen under normal circumstances you understand, but under a black light it glows like fireworks on the fourth of July. It's the same kind of technology they use to spot counterfeit bills. The handy thing about it is, it can't be washed or wiped off. It takes some time for all of it to wear away. So, quite simply, we pass a person's hands under the black light, and voila, right away we know who's been handling it! Genius really!"
"But everyone in here handles the artwork at one time or another," Zoe said. "How does that prove anything?"
"Simple. Have you noticed anyone going to the warehouse to get artwork lately?"
Zoe thought about this. Long and hard. I could almost see the smoke coming out of her ears. "Not except Giorgio. You don't think he's the thief do you?"
My mother laughed a tinkling little laugh. "Not hardly. You see, Giorgio changed the rules. He no longer calls on the salesperson, or the warehouse men to move the art work for him. He does it all himself. And he always wears gloves. Once he has the art on the floor he uses the specialized wipes provided with the kit to remove the powder. So you see anyone with paint on their hands has been where they oughtn't to be."
My mother began moving to the counter, "You won't mind holding your hands under this light for a moment, will you? It won't hurt a bit."
Zoe instantly began to cry. "It's not my fault! She made me do it! You don't know how horrible she is! Cat is the only one who knows my parents and knows the things I did when I was away at college. She was doing it all right beside me, but her parents don't even care. But if my parents ever found out, they'd disown me. I'd lose my inheritance and everything!" This last ended on an eardrum-shattering wail.
My mother signaled to Giorgio to call the police, which he did, even as she was moving over to sympathize with Zoe. "Of course, dear. I understand. It's very unfair. What exactly was it that Cat made you do?"
"She made me steal the artwork. At first she was doing it herself, but then Pia fired her and she made me go up for the job because she said she needed an inside person. But she never understood- it was much harder for me. Pia put in all these security cameras and everyone was always around watching. But Cat would get mad at me and say I wasn't taking enough, I wasn't bringing her stuff fast enough."
"How did you manage to get what you did? You must have been very clever. More so than Cat gave ever you credit for."
"I was," Zoe nodded, sniffling at the same time. "It was hard. Sometimes I would have to go back there two and three times in a day. It got so I had to find a way around the security cameras. I found out that if you stayed very close to the walls you could just manage to stay off camera. That meant I could only take things that were in the corners back by the cameras and out of their range. I always had to wait for the warehouse guys to be moving things around- Hey! I thought you said no one was allowed to touch the art anymore? They were still moving it so their hands would be all powdery."
My mother sighed. "I'm afraid I told you a bit of a fib. But you're in too deep now, Zoe. There are witnesses to your confession. You may as well go on."
"I'm not talking anymore. I want a lawyer!" With that Zoe folded her arms over her chest and refused to speak another word, which was okay, since the police were already arriving and we had to let them in.
Jase gave me the hairy eyeball as he walked in.
I stuck my tongue out at him.
He smiled and moved over to Pia. "What's going on? We had a report of a thief on the premises?"
It took nearly an hour to get everyone's statement and Zoe was hauled away in cuffs, sniveling every step of the way. Squad cars had already been sent to both Cat's place of work and her home. The two sorority girls would be living together again. This time though, the accommodations wouldn't be nearly as nice. And they probably wouldn't be allowed to keep their necklaces. What a shame.
Jase locked up behind the last policeman, opting to stay behind for a minute.
"You tackled her?" he asked me, clearly astounded.
"What else was I supposed to do?"
"Call the police?"
"It tried to tell them to do that, but no one was listening."
"Maybe because you asked them after you were sitting on the girl," my mother reminded me.
"Semantics."
"And you," Jase looked at my mother. "You do realize you coerced a statement out of her?"
"Since I'm not a policeman, I don't think that counts at all."
"I hope the prosecuting attorney agrees with you."
"If they don't, give me a call."
Jase laughed, watching as she walked away to join in a conversation with Pia and Giorgio. "No wonder you and Pia are friends. Pia's not a far cry from your mother."
I watched the two women in question. "No, I guess she's not. No wonder I feel right at home here."
"The question is- how much are you like them?" Jase was studying me.
"I don't know. You tell me. Can you see either one of them football tackling a criminal?"
He laughed again. "Good answer."
