Hidden Treasure

by Jane K. Cleland

  “What a relief! I infer she hasn’t heard about Celia.”

  “Not as of a little bit ago.”

  “Did Vincent ask Dr. Moss why he said he hadn’t spoken to her?”

  “It was just what you suspected. Maudie called him last Friday morning around eleven, eight Pacific time, just after he got into work. They made the appointment for today, and she asked him to keep it confidential. He agreed, and nothing you told him gave him a reason to break his commitment. As soon as Vincent filled him in, he changed his tune and was glad to cooperate. Vincent is heading to the Fairmont now.” Ellis flagged the waitress. “Time to get you home.”

  “I don’t need to go. I feel a thousand times better now that I’ve eaten.”

  “If Maudie’s not in her room, it may be hours before we connect. I want to use my laptop for Skype, and it’s at the station, so I’m going to escort you home.” He held up his hands as if to fend off an attack. “Not that I think you need an escort. I want to say hey to Zoë and see how she’s doing. I’ll be certain to convey your condolences and concern to Maudie.”

  “All right. I give up.”

  * * *

  Ellis pulled into my driveway in back of me and had just stepped out of his vehicle when his phone vibrated. I walked to join him. From his side of the conversation, I gathered that Vincent was with the hotel’s manager on duty, a woman named Amy Chen. Vincent handed her his phone so she and Ellis could talk directly. Ellis reviewed the situation, and Ms. Chen said she was glad to facilitate whatever support the hotel had to offer, from scheduling a doctor’s visit to pouring a shot of brandy. At Vincent’s request, she had just called Mrs. Wilson’s room, pretending to check on whether she had everything she needed, and was therefore able to confirm that Maudie was there.

  “I’ll need fifteen minutes to get back to the station and set up,” Ellis told Vincent.

  I waved my hand to catch his attention.

  “Use my laptop,” I whispered. “It’s ready to go. Please? I won’t interfere—I just want to be available to help Maudie if I can. She’s going to want to see a friendly face.”

  He kept his eyes on mine for a few seconds, then nodded.

  “Change of plans,” he told Vincent. “I can Skype you within five minutes. Call me when you’re in Mrs. Wilson’s room. Just tell her the Rocky Point police chief needs to talk to her. She’ll freak out, but that can’t be helped.”

  I led the way to the kitchen. My laptop was where I’d left it, on the table. I slid onto the long side of the L-shaped bench, swallowing a loud “ouch” as aches and stiffness reminded me where I’d been struck. I brought up Skype and pushed the computer toward the short side of the bench, where Ellis was getting organized, then scooched out. I decided to sit on a chair, much easier to get into and out of than a bench packed with pillows. I positioned one so it was perpendicular to where Ellis sat. The pain radiating from my shoulders was becoming more present, a wearing, steady, dull ache, merging with new twinges and sharper stabs in my thighs, probably from my fall. I was a mess, but game. I poured two glasses of water, delivered one to Ellis, and surreptitiously took two ibuprofen.

  Vincent called. Maudie was ready to talk. Ellis gave him my Skype username and was connected within a minute.

  I had a side-angled view of Maudie. She was frowning at the camera. Closed curtains hung in back of her. A sliver of TV showed on the right. Because Vincent’s phone was perched against a pile of books, the camera was aimed upward, never a good angle for a woman. Every droop and wrinkle on Maudie’s neck and face was accentuated. To make matters worse, she looked terrified. Her eyes were as round as silver dollars, and her lips were slightly parted as if she expected to scream.

  Ellis nodded at the monitor. “Mrs. Wilson? I’m Chief Hunter of the Rocky Point police. I have some bad news, and I didn’t want you to be alone when you heard it. I’m here with Josie Prescott, who is available to talk to you after I’m done. I know Mr. Stein introduced himself. He’s a former colleague of mine from when I was a police detective in New York City, and a friend. I understand Ms. Chen is with you, too. Both are ready to help.”

  “Whatever it is, please … just tell me.”

  “It’s your niece, Celia Akins. I’m sorry to report that she’s dead.”

  Maudie stared blankly into the camera for a few seconds, then her lips quivered and her eyes filled. She covered her face with her hands, shielding herself. She murmured, “No, no, no.” After a few seconds, the murmuring was replaced by whimpering, heartrending exclamations of despair.

  Ellis waited close to a minute before speaking again. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

  Maudie lowered her hands, her cheeks wet, tears clinging to her lashes. “Did she … Was it suicide?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  A woman’s fingers appeared, offering a tissue. Maudie took it and patted her cheeks dry.

  “Celia’s always been high-strung. Nervous. If I missed clues that she was in worse condition than I thought, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  “It wasn’t suicide. She was attacked Friday afternoon, around two.”

  “Attacked?” Maudie’s voice cracked, and she coughed and looked aside. The same woman’s hand passed her a glass of water, and Maudie took a sip. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. You said Celia was attacked?”

  “I don’t want to sugarcoat the situation. What I have to tell you is going to be hard to hear. If you need a minute, just tell me. Your niece was murdered in your apartment last Friday afternoon, within minutes, apparently, of your departure.”

  Maudie’s brows scrunched together, and her chin jutted forward. “Killed?” Maudie asked as if the word was unfamiliar. “In my apartment?”

  “Yes. She was beaten to death with a wooden rolling pin.”

  Maudie’s hand flew up to her mouth as the horror she was hearing sank in. “Who would do such a thing? Why?”

  “We’re working on who and why. We think whatever is going on might be related to an attempt to steal your presentation box and cat.”

  “Steal? Or sell?”

  “You tell me.”

  “Celia begged me to sell the presentation box and cat sculpture.” Her voice quavered as she added, “I told her she was selfish and encroaching.” Maudie looked aside for a moment. “If she was planning to sell the objects out from under me, counting on my reluctance to create a scandal in the family, I can’t say I’m surprised. She was wrong, but that’s what she believed. That’s why I hid the objects as soon as I got back from lunch.”

  “Where did you hide them?”

  “In the trunk, under a shelf.”

  “I have more bad news, then. I’m afraid the objects are missing.”

  She pressed her fingers against her mouth. “Oh, no. Celia stole them after all.”

  “I don’t think so. I think it was her killer.”

  “And you don’t know who that is?”

  “Not yet. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Heavens, no.” She covered her face again, her shoulders shaking. When she lowered her hands, she added, “I’m reeling. Just reeling.”

  “I understand. We’ll talk more when you get back. Just a few more questions now, if you’re able.”

  She used the tissue to wipe away more tears. “All right,” she managed.

  “Why didn’t you move the box and cat to the storage facility?”

  “I didn’t have a padlock, and I didn’t have time to get one. It sounds so silly now, but that’s the truth. I’d never noticed there was extra room in the trunk, so I didn’t think anyone else would, either.”

  “You made your travel arrangements Friday morning?”

  “Yes. As soon as I talked to Dr. Moss, I called Gerard.”

  “Gerard Martin?”

  “Yes, Martin’s Travel Agency.”

  “What luggage did you take?”

  “My wheeling tote bag. Why?”

  “That’s not much.”

  “I neede
d a new suitcase anyway, and I thought it would be fun to buy some new outfits and bathing suits and so on. I haven’t bought any clothes since Eli died.” She looked aside. “Fun.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Wilson, but I do have some more difficult news.” Maudie turned back to the camera. “I won’t go into all the details now, but I want you to hear it from me, not on the news. Josie Prescott was also attacked in your unit this morning. She’s all right, just a few bumps and bruises, but the apartment is once again a crime scene.”

  “Oh, my God. Josie, are you there?”

  Ellis moved the laptop so we were both visible.

  “Yes, Maudie, I’m here. What the chief said is correct. I’m fine.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  “I’m so sorry about Celia, Maudie.”

  “Thank you. I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. Poor Doug … he was so devoted to Celia, to the children. And Stacy must be beside herself. I know how awful it is to lose your sister.”

  Stacy had clearly been rattled by Celia’s death, but only she knew how upset she really was. I’d seen many shades of Stacy’s personality, from sweet to bitter, poised to frazzled, confident to despairing. Through it all, she’d shown a chameleon-like ability to turn off her acid tongue and turn on the charm, which made her an unreliable witness, even, perhaps, to herself.

  “It’s a rough situation,” Ellis said, his tone matter-of-fact.

  Maudie patted her eyes with the tissue again. “And you have no idea who’s responsible?”

  “We’re working on several leads. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to install hidden cameras in your apartment to see if someone comes after the box and cat once we clear out. We’ll be monitoring them continuously, in real time. If someone enters the unit, we’ll know it. If not, no harm done.”

  “All right.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to ask that you stay away from Belle Vista until we know it’s safe for you to come back.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever want to live there again. Not after this. Poor Celia. My poor niece.”

  “I certainly understand. I hate to have to tell you this now, and I’m very sorry to be the bearer of more bad news, but it seems there’s a cancellation clause in your residence agreement. Mr. Hannigan, the manager, has informed me that the Belle Vista board has decided to exercise that option. They’re withdrawing your acceptance and refunding your fee. He plans on packing up your possessions as soon as I unseal the unit.”

  “I’m being tossed out of my home?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Maudie stared at the camera, her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes slits. “I don’t want him, or anyone I don’t know, touching my things. I’ll get on the first plane home tomorrow morning. I should be able to organize the move in a day or two.”

  “I’ll let him know. As far as I’m concerned, the apartment remains a crime scene, and it’s sealed. What with our plan to monitor access via remote video feed, I won’t allow him to reclaim the unit for a couple of days, minimum.”

  “If he insists on getting me out before I can take charge, would you be able to ask Tom Hill to pack me up?”

  I touched Ellis’s elbow and pointed at my chest.

  He nodded and moved the computer so she had me full face.

  “I’ll call Tom, Maudie, and let him know he may be needed.”

  “Thank you, Josie.”

  “Maudie, do you have your new laptop with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Then we can confirm it wasn’t stolen. How about your checkbook?”

  “No.” Her eyes rounded. “I’ll have to call my bank.” She rubbed her forehead. “Is anything else missing?”

  Ellis shifted the computer back and said, “I don’t think so, although until you go through everything, there’s no way for us to know for sure.”

  Maudie pressed the sides of her index fingers under her eyes for a moment, quelling tears. “I don’t even know what to ask. I’m in shock.” She turned her head aside and took a few deep breaths. After a few seconds, she turned back to the camera. “Why did you think to lift the shelf, looking for the box and cat?”

  “Josie realized that the Bible and letters were higher than they were when she discovered the trunk in the dumbwaiter, and she knew what that must mean—you’d discovered the shelves and used one.”

  “All those years, I simply took the trunk at face value. It makes me wonder what else in my life I missed.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve been sitting here asking myself why no one contacted me about Celia until now, and then I realized I never checked my phone or email for messages. I forgot my charger, or maybe I lost it, I don’t know.”

  “I’m sure you have a bunch of messages,” Ellis said. “A lot of people have been worried about you.”

  “I don’t know what to do first, who to call, how to get things organized.”

  I leaned into the camera’s view. “You mentioned changing your flight home. Can I help you with that?”

  “Thank you, Josie, but I’ll call Gerard. He’ll take care of everything. I was going on to Hawaii. He’ll cancel that leg of my trip and get me straight home.”

  Ellis turned the monitor a bit so he had Maudie in direct view. “Mrs. Wilson, I have another request. I know you’re going to want to talk to your family and maybe some close friends. I need to ask you not to talk about the murder or my plan with the hidden cameras. Talk about how upset you are and how much you loved your niece. Help plan the funeral. Ask if there’s anything you can do, but don’t speculate about who might be responsible, or why, or how they gained access to your apartment. I hate to burden you like this, but it’s crucial. When you and I talk in person, which is a preference I know we share, I want you to express your uncensored views to me, frankly and openly, not the views that might have been colored by listening to other people’s opinions and conjectures.”

  Maudie nodded slowly, letting the implications penetrate. “That makes perfect sense to me, and it’s an apt warning. I’ve spent a lot of my time here in San Francisco thinking about how and why I let myself be swayed by other people’s estimations, some well-meaning, others not. I can assure you it won’t happen this time. It won’t ever happen again.”

  Ellis had her write down his cell phone number and extracted a promise that she’d call him as soon as she knew her new flight information.

  “If there’s any pressure put on you to speculate,” he said, “or you just don’t want to engage with someone, blame me.”

  “You’re kind, but I won’t need to make excuses anymore. I’ll call you with my flight information, and I’ll call you when I’m in the car en route home.” She gave a little snort, a soft, ironic nonlaugh. “En route to a hotel, I should say, since I no longer have a home. I’ll have Gerard take care of that, too.”

  Maudie thanked Ellis for his courtesy in making sure she wasn’t alone during the conversation. “I’m all right now. I’ll call Gerard, then Doug and Stacy, just to let them know we connected. You asked me to keep certain things confidential. I’d like to ask you to do the same thing for me. I’m going to tell Doug and Stacy I was in San Francisco for a little vacation in a city I love before going on to Hawaii. Until I decide what to do with the presentation box and cat”—she paused and gulped—“assuming they’re found … I don’t want to engage with them on the topic.”

  “I can do that.”

  She thanked him again, and they ended the call.

  “What do you think of her?” I asked as he lowered the laptop’s lid.

  “She’s a sensible woman. Direct. Intelligent. I look forward to meeting her.”

  “She’s changed since I first met her. It’s amazing what a week can do.”

  “How so?”

  “Her nieces worked to make her feel weak, diminished. Whether they hinted or even more than hinted that she had early-stage dementia on purpose to further their own agendas or simply allowed the fear to take hold and beco
me the commonly accepted view, like an urban myth, she ended up believing that she was incapable and failing. Now she’s back to trusting herself. There’s a strength in her now that was simmering just below the surface when I first met her.”

  “Interesting,” he said, giving nothing away. “You can go ahead and call Tom. Be excited that she’s safe and en route home. Tell him it will be at least two days before the police unseal the unit, and Maudie may not need his services by then, but she asked you to give him a heads-up.”

  “Planting another seed in case someone wants to take one last crack at finding the presentation box and cat.”

  He stood. “Thanks for the use of your computer. I’m going to go next door to see how Zoë is doing. I’ll let her know you’re home.”

  “Can I ask you something first?”

  “You know how much I hate that question.”

  I smiled. “What did you decide about my idea for your wedding?”

  He leaned back against the wall, relaxing, smiling. “I love it. Captain Ken and I are in sync about the wedding ceremony, brief and romantic; the reception, long and filled with joy and fun; and the trip—Bimini was a good call, and he recommends Andros Island, too. In terms of the proposal itself, that’s where you come in. I was going to ask you today, but then you got yourself all banged up. I need a ring, and I’d love your advice. What do you think Zoë would like?”

  “Zoë’s going to be thrilled with whatever you choose, of course, but I think she’d like a ruby, or a ruby-and-diamond combo. I know rubies are her favorite stones, and with her coloring, it would be perfect. Are you thinking new or antique?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I suspect she’d prefer an antique ring. Let me see what we have in stock. We don’t carry a huge selection of jewelry. It’s too specialized for us. That said, everything we carry is at least a hundred years old, set in eighteen-karat gold or platinum, and fully appraised by an expert.”

  “Great. Do it.”

  I called Sasha and asked her to search our inventory. Moments later she reported that we had five beauties in stock.

  I covered the mouthpiece to ask Ellis, “Can you wait ten minutes? I’ll have Sasha drive them over.”