by Bobbi Holmes
Walt kept quiet until after Joe left, thirty minutes later.
“What exactly is going on between you two?” Walt asked when Danielle returned to the parlor after showing Joe to the door.
“I don’t know what you mean—or how that is any of your business. You should just be grateful for his help.”
“I already said I was grateful.”
“Did you?” Danielle flopped down on the couch and grabbed a magazine off the side table. She began thumbing through it.
“I didn’t realize you two had become so—friendly.”
“We’ve just gone out to lunch a few times.”
“You never told me that.”
“I didn’t realize I needed to keep you informed of my social calendar,” Danielle said primly.
“I didn’t realize you had a social calendar.”
Danielle tossed the magazine on the table and glared up at Walt. “Well, that’s rude.”
Walt shrugged. “I suppose I’m a little surprised he’s the kind of man you would go after.”
“I’m not going after anyone. Joe is a nice guy, and we have gone out a couple times—very casually on lunch dates. Sheesh, I don’t need you drilling me like my father.”
“I am hardly your father.”
“Okay, considering your age then like a grandfather! No, make that great-grandfather.”
Walt vanished.
Chapter Twelve
Cheryl stood outside the jewelry store window, looking in at the display. There didn’t appear to be anyone in the store, except for the man behind the counter who gave her a little wave when he noticed her standing outside the shop. She stood there for a few more minutes before making the decision to go inside.
“Good morning,” the man cheerfully greeted. He flashed a smile, showing off straight white teeth. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
Cheryl thought he was pleasant looking enough, with a clean shaven face and curly brown hair trimmed neatly above his ears. She found his dark blue polyester slacks and crisply pressed powder blue dress shirt dreadfully out of style. If she were to guess his age she’d say he was in his mid-forties.
“Too cold for me. Is it always so miserable in the summers here?” Cheryl walked to the counter and looked down, browsing at the selection of diamond rings locked in the glass case.
“I suppose it is a little cooler than normal for this time of the year,” the man said with a shrug. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”
“I was wondering, was this the jewelry store where they brought the Missing Thorndike?”
“Oh, you read the article!” The man beamed. “Yes. For some reason they thought the diamonds and emeralds were fake, but I recognized the piece immediately.”
“So you were the one who looked at it?”
“Yes, I was. Quite a thrill I tell you. My name is Samuel Hayman, by the way. This is my store. When I was just a kid my grandfather told me about the necklace. We always wondered who had taken it. A real shock to find out Walt Marlow, of all people, stole the necklace.”
“So tell me, were there many jewel heists in Frederickport back then?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did your grandfather ever mention other jewelry that went missing when Walt Marlow was alive? I’ve heard some jewel thieves are often members of the social circle they rob—like that Marlow guy. They go to all the parties and social gatherings, and no one suspects anything while they’re being ripped off.”
“Umm…no…not that I’ve ever heard of. Why?”
“Oh, I was just curious.” Cheryl shrugged and continued to look down at the display case.
“So, are you visiting family or friends here?”
“You can tell I’m not a local?”
“Rather got that impression, plus I don’t remember seeing you around before. And I would definitely remember such a pretty woman.”
Cheryl grinned at the compliment and then said, “Actually, I’m staying at Marlow House.”
“I didn’t know they were open for business yet. I’m going to their open house tomorrow.”
“Well I’m not a guest, per se. I’m one of the owners,” Cheryl said proudly.
“Owners? I don’t understand. I thought Danielle Boatman owned Marlow House.”
“Dani is my cousin. Actually I’m the only relative she has. You see, Brianna Boatman, the former owner of Marlow House was my great-aunt too. She was very ill during her last years, Alzheimer’s.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I didn’t know.”
“I don’t wish to speak ill of my cousin, but I’m afraid she was a tad eager when she learned Aunt Brianna had left her Marlow House. Obviously Aunt Brianna intended to leave it to both of us, but with that horrid disease…” Cheryl sighed dramatically then said, “Which is why I’m here to straighten out the estate.”
“How does your cousin…umm, feel about all this? I know that necklace is part of the estate and its worth over a million dollars.”
“Well, I admit she was not thrilled when I showed up. But she’ll get used to the idea. I was wondering, do you know which bank my cousin keeps the necklace at? I noticed there are several banks in town.”
“The one just next door,” Samuel told her.
• • • •
Fifteen minutes later Cheryl entered the bank next door to the jewelry store and walked up to one of the bank tellers.
“How can I help you?” the teller asked.
“I need to speak to the bank manager.”
“I can help you with deposits and withdrawals, but if you need to speak to someone about another banking matter you can sign in over there.” The teller pointed to a sign up sheet on the far counter.
“I need to speak to the bank manager. If I sign up there, will I be able to see her?”
“Actually it’s a him. Can you tell me what this is about? Maybe I can direct you to the right person.”
“It’s about the Missing Thorndike.”
“You mean the necklace?”
“Yes. I want to see it.”
“Excuse me? You want to see it? I don’t understand.” The teller looked around nervously.
“Oh, don’t get all jumpy,” Cheryl said with a laugh when she noticed the change in the teller. “I didn’t come here to steal the necklace. After all, I don’t need to steal it, since I own half of it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The teller shook her head nervously and glanced around. When she spied the bank manager she waved him over.
“What can I help you with?” the bank manager asked when he walked up to the teller’s window. He smiled at Cheryl.
“Are you the bank manager?” Cheryl asked before the teller could make introductions.
“Yes. I’m Steve Klein. Was there something I can help you with?”
“I was hoping to have a look at my necklace. I don’t want to take it out of the bank or anything, but I’ve never seen it in person and I really would love to.”
“I don’t understand…” the manager frowned.
“This woman claims to own the Missing Thorndike,” the teller explained.
“I’m afraid that is not possible.” The manager sounded far less friendly than he had a moment before.
Cheryl put out her hand and said, “I’m Danielle Boatman’s cousin, Cheryl Hartford.”
“I still don’t understand,” the manager mumbled, as he shook Cheryl’s hand.
“Dani and I are the only remaining members of our great aunt’s family. Aunt Brianna meant to leave the estate to both of us, but I’m afraid she had Alzheimer’s during her last years and sadly…well she forgot about me. I know Aunt Brianna would never have intentionally left me out of her will, she was such a dear.”
“I really don’t see how any of that is the bank’s business,” Steve said.
“Well, you have our necklace here. So naturally I want to see it, since it belongs to me too.”
“Ms. Hartford, unless your name is o
n the safety deposit box,” Steve began.
“It’s not here anyway,” the teller interrupted.
“What do you mean?” Cheryl asked.
“Why, Ms. Boatman left not forty-five minutes ago with the necklace.”
“The necklace isn’t here?” Cheryl asked angrily.
“I’m afraid not,” the teller said.
Without saying another word, Cheryl turned around and stormed toward the exit.
“Susan, I really wish you hadn’t told her that,” Steve said after Cheryl left the bank.
“But it isn’t here.”
“I understand that. But it is not in our customer’s best interest for us to be informing strangers when they leave the bank carrying something of such value. What one of our customers takes out of their safety deposit box is no one else’s business.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Klein. I didn’t think. But she said she was Ms. Boatman’s cousin. Anyway, everyone knows she intends to wear the necklace during tomorrow’s open house. So it’s not really a secret the necklace is going to be out of the bank.”
“Damn foolish if you ask me. Wearing something like that. Just asking for trouble. I wonder if that woman really is who she says she is,” Steve mumbled.
Steve was about to go to his office and call Marlow House to verify the fact the woman who identified herself as Cheryl Hartford was indeed Danielle’s cousin, when Clarence Renton walked into the bank. Steve quickly excused himself from the teller and went to Renton.
“Clarence, I was hoping you could answer a quick question for me.”
“If I can. What’s the problem?”
“Did you see that woman who just left the bank a few minutes ago?”
“The blonde with the generous rack?” Clarence whispered.
“Damn Clarence, no way for you to talk,” Steve chuckled.
“I may be old but I’m not dead. Good looking woman, what about her?”
“Do you know if she’s Danielle Boatman’s cousin?”
“You mean Cheryl Hartford?” Clarence glanced at the doorway he’d just entered.
“So she is the cousin?” Steve asked.
“Well I don’t know if she is the cousin. I’ve never met her before. But I know Ms. Boatman’s cousin is here in Frederickport staying at Marlow House.”
“She says she owns half of the Marlow estate.”
“Well, she is making that claim. Off the record, mind you. Just between you and me, Steve.”
“Is it valid?”
“Enough that it’s upset Ms. Boatman. Don’t repeat me. But you know how it is, someone dies and all the distant relatives crawl out of the woodwork.”
“She wanted to see the necklace.”
“Did you explain to her you can’t simply open someone’s safety deposit box just because they want a peek inside?” Clarence chuckled.
“I started to, but then Mrs. Mitchell blurted out that the necklace isn’t here.”
“So she’s really going to wear it at the open house?” Clarence asked.
“I guess so. She calls it publicity, I call it foolishness.”
Chapter Thirteen
“I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven,” Adam Nichols mumbled under his breath as he watched the buxom blonde breeze through the doorway of Lucy’s Diner. Alone at his booth, he sipped his water and watched as she glanced around the diner looking for a free table. Even the lunch counter was full.
Cheryl stood at the entrance of the diner, a few feet from Adam’s booth. The sign at the entrance said seat yourself, yet she didn’t see any openings. The kitchen and lunch counter was to her left, with a line of booths to her right and tables directly ahead. From the kitchen area a waitress rushed in her direction, carrying a tray with four lunch plates. Cheryl attempted to flag her down.
“I’m afraid it will be a thirty minute wait,” the harried waitress told Cheryl as she rushed by.
“Thirty minutes?” Cheryl groaned, again looking around for someplace to sit.
“It’s the beginning of a holiday weekend,” Adam called out. “Always gets crazy around here this time of year.”
“It isn’t the weekend yet and I’m starved!” Cheryl stomped a foot in frustration.
“You’re welcome to join me. The waitress hasn’t taken my order yet. In fact, I’d be honored to buy you lunch.”
She turned to his booth and smiled. “Really?” Pausing a moment she asked, “How do I know you aren’t a serial killer?”
“I grew up in this town, just ask the waitress. We haven’t had a mad killing spree in Frederikport since—well, since ever. So if I am a serial killer, I obviously go out of town to find my victims, so you’re safe.”
Walking closer to Adam’s booth, Cheryl giggled then asked, “But why would you want to buy me lunch?”
“I hate eating alone. But mostly, you’re a very beautiful woman—which I’m sure you already know. What man wouldn’t willingly buy you lunch just to have the pleasure of your company for a few hours?”
“A few hours? That is rather a long lunch isn’t it?” Cheryl said as she sat down at the booth.
“What can I say, I’m an optimist.” Adam reached across the table and offered his hand in greeting. “I’m Adam Nichols. I promise I am a respectable local business man, I own Frederickport Property Rentals.”
Cheryl accepted his hand and gave it a brief shake. “I’m Cheryl Hartford. I’m staying at Marlow House. Do you know it?” She picked up a menu from the end of the table and opened it.
“Marlow House? Why sure. Who doesn’t? Big party there tomorrow. I was under the impression they weren’t taking guests yet.”
“Oh, I’m not a guest. I’m Danielle Boatman’s cousin.” Cheryl looked through the menu.
“Ahh, well maybe you shouldn’t be sitting with me. Danielle Boatman isn’t particularly fond of me.”
“She isn’t?” Cheryl set the menu down and looked at Adam.
“Well….has she mentioned anything about me?”
“No. Why would she?”
“Let’s just say she got the wrong impression. Since then, well, I don’t think she’s thrilled with me.”
Cheryl quietly considered the possibilities for a few moments before saying, “Ahh, I understand.”
“You do?”
“I can only think of one reason my cousin would have a problem with such a handsome and charming man—the scorned woman.”
“Scorned woman?”
“She thought you liked her more than you did—and when she found out you didn’t share her feelings she got all…well…you know. That’s just Dani. She could never take rejection well. I guess this means you won’t be at the party tomorrow.”
“No. I’m going to be there. She’s friends with my grandmother, and I’ve promised Grandma I’d take her.”
“That’s sweet of you, taking your grandma.”
A moment later the waitress came to the table and took their order, then left to get their beverages.
“I hope you won’t be angry at me, but I’m afraid it’s going to be impossible for me to sit here without staring at you. You’ve got to be one of the most beautiful—no, possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Are you a model or something?”
“Oh…” Cheryl blushed. “Actually, I have done a little modeling. Of course, they want stick figures, and I just have too many curves.”
“Yes. I can see that. All in the right places, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“Oh, you are very naughty Adam Nichols!” Cheryl giggled.
“I guess you just bring out the naughty in me.”
“It isn’t easy looking like me.” Cheryl sighed dramatically.
“It isn’t? I would think the world would fall at your feet.”
“No,” Cheryl shook her head. “Take my cousin, Dani, for instance. She has always been so jealous of me. It really isn’t my fault I look like this!”
“That is a shame, Danielle shouldn’t be jealous of you.”
“
She shouldn’t?” Cheryl frowned.
“Why no, I mean Danielle is also an attractive woman.”
“Do you think she is as pretty as me?” Cheryl sounded offended.
“Oh no—” Adam said quickly, realizing his blunder. “I just meant she is an attractive woman, not as beautiful as you, of course. But she should be able to appreciate her beautiful cousin, without being jealous.”
“Yes,” Cheryl said, pleased with Adam’s explanation. “I agree.”
“Is this your first time in Frederickport?”
“Yes. I just learned recently about Aunt Brianna’s death.”
“Brianna? You mean the one who left Danielle Boatman Marlow House?”
“Yes. But that is a mistake. It was supposed to go to both of us.”
“I hadn’t heard that.”
“My great-aunt had Alzheimer’s and became forgetful in her later years. Dani and I were her only remaining relatives and it was the horrid disease that made her forget to mention me in the will.”
“If she wasn’t in her right mind, how could she execute a will?”
“Exactly! That’s what my lawyer back home told me too. You know, no one even told me my aunt had died. Dani certainly never contacted me. But why would she? She obviously wanted to keep me in the dark, hoping I would never find out. But after that article came out about the necklace, well, I hired a private detective. I was shocked to hear Aunt Brianna had Alzheimer’s.”
“I assume you’re going to contest the will?”
“Of course!”
“Is she still selling the necklace next week?”
“How did you know about that?” Cheryl asked.
“Like I said, she and my grandmother are friends. But it’s pretty common knowledge around here.”
“Well, not if I have anything to say about it!”
“You don’t want to sell it? I heard it’s worth over a million bucks.”
“I’m not sure. I would like to look at it first. Try it on. How thrilling to wear something that exquisite!”
“I’d love to see it on you. The Missing Thorndike needs to be worn by someone like you, to do it justice.”
