by Kathi Daley
“There is a furniture store along the way called the Naturewood Gallery. They sell newly crafted hardwood furniture with a rustic charm and country feel. I think you will have good luck finding items with the mood you want that is of good quality new construction.”
I shifted my hands on the steering wheel. “Okay. Let’s stop there for sure. Lonnie will need another two or three months to finish the remodel, but now that things are coming together, I am so excited to see how things will come together.”
The Naturewood Gallery was something special. All the furnishings were well made. There were items with a rustic, mountain feel, others with a charming country design, and still others that brought home the feel of the sea. The tables, bedframes, chests, and dressers were arranged in groups. I appreciated the faux room designs because they provided the shopper with a visual of what a room furnished with the pieces would look like.
I ran my hand over the surface of a large chest of drawers. “I think these pieces will work well as a base. They are sturdy and of good quality. We can accent the space with unique antiques to add charm to each room.”
“We might want to take photos of the pieces you are interested in. We can get measurements as well. Then we can do a blueprint of each room to see how the furniture will fit in the space you have. I think that is particularly important for the suites. The furniture should be comfortable and functional. Items that are too large could affect the natural flow of the room, but you don’t want a lot of empty space either, if you want to create a warm, country feel.”
Lacy made a good point. “Okay. Let’s get some photos and then ask the saleswoman for measurements. The suites are all slightly different in terms of the color pallet I used, so maybe we’ll mix up the furniture as well. That knotty pine would go well in the Evergreen Suite, while the whitewashed look might be best for the Bay Suite.”
“I saw a beautiful bedroom set made from a dark walnut when we first walked in. I think it would be striking in the room you are doing in black and white.”
“The Tuxedo Suite. Let’s take a look,” I said.
By the time we were done, we had photos and measurements for the base furnishings for each of the six suites. We explained to the saleswoman that we wanted to create a blueprint once we had measured the rooms and would be back when we were ready to talk price. After Naturewood, we drove up the coast to the antique stores Lacy had chosen as the most likely to have accent pieces I would enjoy. Before I met her, I would never have considered that I would enjoy antiquing, but now, looking at old furniture through her eyes was a unique experience indeed.
Chapter 11
“How was your outing with Lacy?” Colt asked me later that evening, as we shared a bottle of wine while waiting for our dinner to be served.
“It was fantastic. That woman is a real go-getter. I think we found most of the items on my list. Lacy and Lonnie are going to tackle a blueprint for the furniture so I can see how it will all fit together. We might end up needing to make a few adjustments, but overall, I think we have come up with a very workable plan.”
“Lacy is a master shopper,” Colt agreed. “I guess she needs to be with such a large family. I’m glad the two of you became friends.”
“She is really great. The things I went ahead and purchased from the antique stores will be delivered next week. I’m going to store them in the basement for the time being. How is your home purchase coming along?”
“It’s moving ahead nicely. Unless there are additional skeletons in the closet beside the one we found in the trunk, I’ll probably own the house before I solve Palmer’s murder.”
“I’m sorry you are stuck. I can imagine how frustrating that must be.”
“I know that not every case is solvable, but this one seems like it should be pretty cut and dried. There are only a finite number of possible suspects. It’s not like Mr. Palmer was killed on a busy street corner by some random person passing by. He was killed in his own home after ingesting a toxin given to him by someone he trusted enough to invite inside. I should have had this wrapped up in a few days, but in a way, I don’t feel like I know any more now than I did on day one.”
“Ben used to hit a wall at times as well. We found it helpful to start at the beginning and go through everything over again. If you want to try that, I can listen and give feedback when I have it.”
Colt nodded. “Okay. Someone poisoned Mr. Palmer, most likely by adding a chemical such as antifreeze to his food or drink, which means that someone had access to his person, his food, or both. I have interviewed the folks from the food service company multiple times. I have interviewed other customers of the service. I cannot find a single piece of evidence that anyone from that service is involved in Palmer’s death. If it wasn’t someone from the service, and no one was seen entering or leaving the property for the two weeks prior to Palmer’s death except the food service folks, who had the opportunity to kill Palmer?”
“And you have spoken to all the neighbors and they all agree that no one other than the food service folks were seen coming and going?” I asked.
“I have spoken to all the neighbors several times and no one admits to having seen anyone enter Palmer’s house for two weeks before his death other than the food service volunteers. I know that makes it sound as if they have to be the guilty party, but I tested the food left on the kitchen counter and it came up clean.”
I leaned back in my chair. “What if the poison wasn’t in the food? What if it was in something else?”
“Like what?”
“Palmer had been ill and might have been taking medication for his symptoms. What if the poison was in that medicine? He could have taken a liquid antinausea medication, or perhaps he was taking something else, such as a sleeping aid or a decongestant, and the poison was added to one of those?”
Colt raised a brow. “That is a very good theory. Someone could have planted a tainted medicine in his home even before he began exhibiting symptoms. I’ll gather up all his medications and take them to the lab.”
“And you might want to check for items that could have been on hand for a lengthy period. Things like ketchup and salad dressing Palmer might have added to his food.”
“I’ll test every liquid I find in the guy’s house. I probably should have done that as soon as the food from the meal service came back clean. To be honest, when that happened, I pretty much moved on to a killer with even a single access to Palmer, who poisoned him with just one dosing rather than repeated ones, as I originally believed.”
“You are talking about suspects such as the nephew, who had motive if not an obvious opportunity?”
“Exactly.”
“I suppose it could still be him. He was at the home a few weeks before his uncle died. Maybe he added the toxin to an antacid or salad dressing, as we just discussed. Once the toxin was planted, he just needed to wait for Palmer to get around to ingesting it.”
“Another good point.”
I took a sip of my wine. “What have you found out about the skeleton in the trunk?”
“Not a lot. I’ve scoured missing persons reports, and I have a buddy in the FBI doing a search for someone with matching dental records. I’ve discussed the skeleton with Doug Palmer, who hasn’t admitted to knowing anything about the trunk, and I’ve reached out to my contacts to try to track down Grange Highlander, but so far I’ve had zero luck.”
“Why would Palmer bother to update his will and include in it two individuals who seem to be unfindable? It makes no sense. If he wanted Grange Highlander to have the trunk, why not provide a phone number or address so his attorney could contact him? And the same goes for this Natalie Norris and the safety-deposit box. What good does it do to leave something to someone if no one knows how to get in touch with them?”
Colt frowned. “It is odd. Maybe the fact that these people don’t appear to exist is a clue of some sort that we haven’t figured out yet.”
We paused our conversation while our salads we
re delivered. We were both hungry, so we ate in silence, although I suspected that Colt, like me, was mulling over his last comment. What if the point was that the trunk and the safety-deposit box had been left to people who couldn’t be contacted, although for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what that point might be.
“I am assuming that you have had a conversation with the attorney who handled the will,” I said at last.
“More than once. As I’ve said, he claims not to know how to get in touch with either Norris or Highlander, and that he doesn’t know what is in the safety-deposit box or where Palmer might have gotten the skeleton. Beyond that, he won’t say much.”
“Do you think he is lying about not knowing how to find Norris and Highlander?”
“I don’t get the sense that he is lying. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he knows something he isn’t sharing, however.”
“What about doing a facial reconstruction of the skeleton from the bones?”
Colt took a piece of bread from the basket and buttered it. “I have a friend who knows someone who works with that sort of thing and might be able to help, but I don’t think the body in the trunk is a priority right now.”
I sat back as my crab-stuffed salmon was placed on the table in front of me. Colt had ordered a fillet that looked pretty great as well. I toyed with the names “Natalie Norris” and “Grange Highlander” in my mind. If these weren’t real people, could the fake names be a clue of some sort? Of course, if they weren’t real people, the items Palmer left to them wouldn’t be turned over to anyone. Could turning over the items never have been the point?
“What if Grange Highlander is the name of the body in the trunk?” I asked.
“Come again?”
“What if Palmer wasn’t leaving the bones to anyone? What if he left the trunk to Grange Highlander as a way of providing the name of the person whose bones were in Palmer’s trunk?
Colt narrowed his gaze. “I’ve been looking for current contact information someone named Grange Highlander, but I guess I could run the name through missing persons to see what I can come up with.” Colt sliced his meat with the large knife the waiter had brought him. “The fact that this seemingly normal man has had a skeleton in a trunk hidden in his house, possibly for twenty years or more, has me wondering what I don’t know about him. Everyone I have spoken to has reported that he was a nice guy, which supports my impression of him. He was quiet and he kept to himself but was always polite. His neighbors all said he was neat and tidy. He kept up his home and his yard until the end. It appears he paid his bills on time, he lived a simple life, and, prior to his retirement eight years ago, was a model employee who showed up on time and did whatever was asked of him.”
“Where did he work?” I asked.
“The sanitation department. In other words, he picked up the trash.”
“Seems like a physical job. He did that right up until retirement?” I asked.
“He did, though in later years he drove the truck, which is a lot less taxing than working the street.”
“Okay, so this quiet, responsible guy who lived a simple if unspectacular life had at least one secret. Maybe the skeleton belonged to someone he killed. Maybe after the murder, he intentionally settled into a lifestyle that he created so as not to call attention to himself.”
Colt lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. I suppose that even serial killers are described by coworkers and neighbors as nice, quiet guys who kept to themselves.”
Chapter 12
Friday had been a busy day. Not only had Bronson Holding, the authenticator, shown up on time in the morning to confirm that I did, indeed, have a genuine Samuel Garrison, but he was able to confirm that the mantel was the one that had been housed in The Yellow Dog during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. He told me that he couldn’t be certain who the necklace and note was meant for, but he give me the phone number of a historian who specialized in Colonial Boston. I planned to call her after I returned from my trip to San Francisco.
In addition to Holding, the landscape architect arrived yesterday as well. We discussed the plans and the groundwork for the hardscape, which was scheduled to begin the following week, weather permitting.
Today I scheduled work on my manuscript. I had heard back from my agent, who loved my new direction and couldn’t wait to see the completed project. There had been a time in my life, not very long ago, when I thought I might never write again. I was glad to see that the creative part of me hadn’t died with my husband and son after all.
Georgia and I were having dinner with Lacy and Lonnie that evening, which seemed to be turning into a semiregular thing to do on a Saturday night. I knew that Colt, Tanner, and Nikki had been invited as well. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and Lacy had talked about grilling ribs on the patio. Georgia had offered to bring sides and was now busy in the kitchen, cooking her heart out.
I’d still been debating whether to let Annie know that I was coming to San Francisco to arrange to have the rest of my stuff shipped east. I’d been trying to get a new chapter down on paper, but instead, all I could think about was my upcoming trip, so, on a whim, I took the risk and wrote an email.
Dear Annie,
I hope this finds you well. The remodel is coming along very nicely, and it looks like we should be able to start furnishing the rooms soon. I have decided to come to San Francisco to see to the transfer of the belongings from my storage unit to my home in Maine. I will be in town for only one day next week but would love to see you if only for a minute. If you think you might have time to stop by to say hi, I will be at the storage unit on Monday, overseeing the loading of the truck. It is the same facility where Ben and I temporarily stored our appliances when we did the kitchen remodel a few years ago. I should be there by eleven and plan to leave no later than four. Please, Annie, if you can make it for even a few minutes, it would mean the world to me.
Love, your sis Abby
After I sent the email I logged off my computer. If I didn’t, I knew I’d obsessively watch for a reply from Annie, even though the odds of her doing so were very slim. There was a part of me that felt I should give up on my relationship with her. I’d already reached out to her numerous times, and the ball was really in her court now. But then I thought of the sister I’d adored my entire life. The sister who had always watched out for me. The sister who’d tried to be there for me when Ben and Johnathan died, despite the fact that I couldn’t quite bring myself to let her in. Life could be ironic at times. She’d tried so hard to help me during a time when I didn’t want to be helped, and now that I’d healed to the point where I wanted her in my life more than anything, she had pulled away from me and it didn’t seem there was anything I could do or say to get her to change her mind.
I picked up a photo of the two of us and ran my hand over the surface. We’d been so close before Ben died and my world had fallen apart. She was more than just a sister. She was my best friend. God, I missed her.
I was tempted to log back on to my computer to check to see if she had returned my email yet, which was unlikely because she never had before. I sat on the edge of my bed, trying to work up the courage to do it when Georgia knocked on the door.
“Come in,” I called.
“Hey, Abby. Did I interrupt anything?”
I shook my head. “No. It’s fine. I just sent off an email to Annie and am now taking a moment to wallow in self-pity.”
A look of understanding crossed Georgia’s face. “I’m sorry. I know how hard the situation is for you.”
“It’s fine. What’s up?”
“Velma called to ask if we could stop by her place on our way out to Lonnie and Lacy’s. I guess she is joining us for dinner but will be late, so she wanted to know if we would pick up the appetizer she made and take it to the Parkers’ so that everyone could enjoy it before the meal, as it was intended.”
“Sure. We can do that. What time were you thinking of heading over?”
“At abou
t four, if that works for you.”
“That works fine.” I glared at my computer. “I had this idea that I was going to write today, but with everything that is going on, I find that I am much too distracted.”
“That’s understandable. Cutting your final link to your old life is going to bring up feelings that might have been lurking for some time. I want you to know I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Georgia. Having you in my life has made things a lot easier than it otherwise might have been. I can’t thank you enough.”
“It is Ramos and me who should be thanking you. But I get it. And I’m glad I can help.”
******
“So, the necklace in the mantel is most likely more than two hundred years old?” Lacy asked as we chatted while she put together the dessert.
“That would be my guess. Of course, it could have been left in the mantel as recently as 1894, which is when the tavern the mantel was originally housed in was torn down.” I frowned. “Actually, that is more likely if you think about it. I guess I became so focused on the fact that the mantel was made during the mid-seventeen hundreds, and I have been imagining American patriots using the secret drawer during the Revolution. The reality is, a lot of people probably knew about the drawer and the last item to have been put inside, which for some reason was never retrieved, was probably placed there shortly before the mantel was taken from The Yellow Dog and built into the mansion.”
Lacy began to hand stir the batter she was mixing. “I agree it is more likely the necklace and note were placed in the drawer in the nineteenth century, but it is fun to think that men like Paul Revere and Samuel Adams could have used the drawer to send their messages. Unlikely maybe, but still fun.”
