Emeralds in the Attic Page 17

  Annie scouted around for possible boxes in the cupboard but didn’t find anything the right size. Then she peered into the freezer and pulled out a small box of vegetables and wrapped it in foil before sticking it back in. “Close enough,” she said.

  She wondered if she should make a run to the library. With the word out about the jewelry, it might be better if she didn’t leave the house until the appointed moment. That way she wouldn’t be inviting an early break-in with no one there to do the actual capturing of the crook!

  That left her with a lot of hours and nothing really to do with them. She reread the note from Millicent Winters, knowing it was ridiculous to expect it to suddenly reveal fresh clues. Annie refolded the note and put it back in the jewelry box. “I really should have made a plan for what to do before the plan goes into motion,” Annie said to Boots. The cat didn’t even look up.

  Annie carried her coffee out to the front room and curled up in the corner of the sofa to crochet. It might not keep her mind busy, but doing something with her hands would help her avoid pacing all day.

  She’d finished one of the tricky sweater sleeves when her cell phone rang. She dug it out from under the pile of yarn in her bag and answered it just before it could roll over into voice mail.

  “Did you know your phone is off the hook?” Alice’s voice said as soon as Annie said hello.

  “No,” Annie stood and walked over to the table where the phone rested. She found the phone scooted to the edge of the table and the receiver halfway off the hook. For an instant Annie felt a jolt of alarm until she saw the fluffy gray hair caught under the edge of the phone.

  “I guess Boots was making phone calls,” Annie told Alice. “It’s on now.”

  “You had me a little worried when you didn’t answer,” Alice said. “I’m glad I didn’t panic and call in the cavalry.”

  Annie laughed. “And who would the cavalry constitute?”

  “Ian. Can’t you see him charging in on a white horse?”

  “I really don’t want to get in the habit of calling Ian every time I have a problem,” Annie said.

  “He’s coming this evening though?”

  “Yes,” Annie said. “Besides, asking him gave me the perfect chance to mention our cover story in front of Charlotte. I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to spread the word.”

  “You know, I’m kind of sorry we’re missing the dance performance. I hadn’t paid much attention to it, but now that we’re not going … I wish I were.”

  “Well, if this mystery is solved tonight,” Annie said, “we can go to one of the other performances.”

  “Good,” Alice answered. “That's something to look forward to.”

  Then Annie told Alice about the note she’d found and how little she’d been able to learn about the case against Millicent Winters online. “If I weren’t concerned about leaving the house too early, I’d go look it up at the library,” Annie said.

  “Is that a hint?”

  “No, but if you wanted to go …”

  “No problem,” Alice said laughing. “I owe you at least one research trip anyway for the help you gave Jim with his lighthouse mystery. And it’ll help pass the time.”

  “Great, now I just have to find a way to pass the time myself.” Annie glanced down at her watch. “Oh—I guess I’ll start with lunch. It’s later than I thought.”

  As soon as she hung up the phone, Annie heard the front doorbell. She opened the door and blinked in surprise when she saw Victoria Meyer standing on the front porch. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Dawson,” the cool blonde said.

  “Good afternoon. Would you like to come in?”

  “If you don’t mind.”

  Annie stepped away from the door, and the taller woman walked in, her eyes sweeping around the entry as if making a mental note of everything she saw. Victoria turned back to look at Annie. “I had hoped we might talk a bit.”

  “Of course. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Annie led Mrs. Meyer to the kitchen, constantly conscious of the tap of the taller woman’s sharp heels on the wood floor behind her. Annie gestured toward the kitchen table where the afternoon sun flowing through the window made the old wood glow.

  “This is a charming little house,” Mrs. Meyer said.

  “Thank you,” Annie said as she put the kettle on the stove and reached into the cupboard, looking for two cups that matched. “It belonged to my grandmother. I inherited it from her.”

  “So I’ve been told. I understand you’ve found all sorts of things in the attic since you moved in.”

  “I am beginning to suspect Gram never threw anything away,” Annie admitted.

  “And apparently people entrusted her with things sometimes.”

  “Sometimes.”

  An awkward silence fell on the room, and the tension lay so thick in the air that Annie actually jumped when the kettle whistled. She poured the hot water over two tea bags and carried them to the table before slipping into the chair across from the young woman.

  “I believe you’ve found more of the jewelry in the emerald set,” Mrs. Meyer said. “Although I don’t ordinarily indulge in gossip, I did hear you were going to sell some Milton Koenig jewelry to his grandson?”

  “Why are you so interested in a set of costume jewelry?”

  “I like the design,” she said. “And since the designer has passed away, I can hardly get him to create something similar for me.”

  “But you could find any number of designers who could create jewelry for you.”

  She nodded. “But I am interested in this particular set.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t see that as any of your concern,” Mrs. Meyer said. “I have heard that you see yourself as some kind of amateur detective, Mrs. Dawson. But I see no need for you to detect your way into my personal business. I only wish to buy the remaining pieces of the set.”

  “Since you already have the earrings,” Annie said. “And the hair comb.”

  The other woman narrowed her eyes as she looked at her. “I have the earrings, that’s true. Are you saying there is a hair comb?”

  “This is news to you?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “I wore the hair comb to the Harvest Ball,” Annie said. “When the lights went out, someone pulled it out of my hair. Then my house was broken into.”

  Mrs. Meyer raised her eyebrows, then smiled coldly. “And you think I crept around in a dark ballroom, groped my way to wherever you were, and snatched a piece of costume jewelry from your hair?” She laughed without humor. “You do have as vivid an imagination as I have heard.”

  “I have nothing to sell to you,” Annie said.

  “I’m willing to pay handsomely.”

  “I don’t need money.”

  Again the perfectly shaped brows rose and the cold gaze swept over the cozy kitchen. “Really?”

  “My husband left me well provided for,” Annie said. “I’m really quite comfortable.”

  The two women stared at one another for another long, silent moment. The silence was interrupted when Boots stalked into the room and sat in the middle of the kitchen floor. She wrapped her tail regally around her and stared coldly at the stranger.

  “Ah, this must be the demon cat my assistant told me about,” Mrs. Meyer said. “I expected it to be bigger with alarming fangs.”

  “She can be surprisingly formidable,” Annie said.

  “So can I.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a moment,” Annie said. “You know, I’m getting a bit tired of people making ominous statements to me. I told you I have no jewelry to sell to you. Any examples of Milton Koenig’s art I have in my possession will be sold to his grandson. I promised to do so, and that’s what I intend to do.”

  “And what will he do with them?”

  “He wants them as examples of his grandfather’s skill,” Annie said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he displays them in the shop. But it�
�s difficult to say. Perhaps he would sell them to you if you offer enough money.”

  “That would be unacceptable.”

  Annie leaned forward. “Why?”

  When the woman across the table didn’t answer, Annie slipped her hand into her cardigan pocket and drew out the folded photo of the woman in the necklace that she still carried. She slid it across the table. “Who was this woman to you?”

  “Where did you get this?” Mrs. Meyer whispered.

  “Milt Koenig gave it to me. It’s a copy of an old newspaper photo that his father had clipped because it showed one of Milton Koenig’s designs,” Annie said. “I know this is Millicent Winters, but who is she to you?”

  The young woman gazed at the photo and ran her finger lightly over the curve of the laughing woman’s cheek. “She was my mother.”

  Annie sat back, startled. “You don’t look old enough to be this woman’s child.”

  “I was a late-in-life baby, born after my parents finally separated. Mother had lost a baby quite a few years earlier. I always thought it was from the stress of the scandal. I assume you know all about the scandal?” She asked the question without emotion, and when Annie only nodded, she turned her eyes back to the photo. Finally, she tapped a perfectly tapered nail against the photo. “I never once saw her laugh like that.”

  “Because of the scandal.”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe. Or maybe it was the guilt of being a murderess.”

  Annie blinked in surprise. “She was not a killer.”

  “What?” The faint haze that had clouded the woman’s eyes from the moment Annie unfolded the picture seemed to clear. The eyes that turned toward Annie then were razor sharp. “What are you talking about?”

  “She didn’t kill that waitress.”

  “How do you know?”

  Annie got up and walked to the front room. She slipped the jewelry box from her project bag and carried it back into the kitchen. She set it before the young woman. “There’s a note in there from your mother. I didn’t see it at first—it was under the bottom lining. I only found it yesterday.”

  Victoria Meyer opened the box and lifted out the note. She held it with trembling fingers. Annie waited in the perfect silence of the kitchen. Finally, the young woman folded the note closed again and looked at Annie. “I never knew.”

  “You believed your mother had killed that waitress?”

  “My father believed it, though we never talked about my mother. There really were so few times that he remembered I was his daughter, and that he ought to spend time with me.” She looked back down into the jewelry case, touching the imitation gems gently. “My mother had Alzheimer’s. I remember only a scant few days spent with her when her mind was clear, and we certainly didn’t spend them talking about this scandal. On her bad days, she sometimes talked about the waitress, and about her shame and regret. I thought she was talking about the murder.”

  She looked back up at Annie. “I was terrified that seeing these gems would trigger someone’s memory of those horrible times. I thought that the whole scandal would stir again, and that the whispers would begin again. I couldn’t let that happen. I didn’t want the scandal to destroy my marriage the way it did my mother’s. My husband knows nothing about it.” Then her voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “And I didn’t want my child to grow up under that shadow.”

  “Your child?”

  She nodded. “I’m not very far along yet. Not enough to show.” Her eyes grew damp and she blinked away tears. “I’ve been so worried that all this would begin again, and she’d grow up the way I did.”

  “So you bought the mask I made and stole my hair comb when the lights went out.”

  She nodded.

  “And you sent someone over to find the rest of the set?” Annie said.

  She nodded again. “My assistant. The cat scratched his hands and arms up while he was searching. I think it’s given him a phobia of cats.” She looked back down at the jewelry. “May I have them? I’ll pay you.”

  Annie smiled and laid a gentle hand on the young woman’s arm. “You don’t have to pay for them. They belong to you. My grandmother was only keeping them safe until someone wanted them back—someone to whom they rightfully belonged. You’re that someone. You should take them with you.”

  “I’m sorry for what I did. I just … I didn’t think I had a choice. I loved my mother, even though the disease barely gave me any chance to know her.”

  “Not long ago,” Annie said, “I didn’t think I’d known my mother very well either. Not when she was alive. But sometimes you can get a second chance to learn. I got mine and maybe this is yours. Your mother was a proud woman, but she wasn’t a killer.”

  Victoria Meyer smiled in wonder. “No, she was no killer.”

  The young woman finished her tea and slowly relaxed. She began to share the few nicer memories she had of her mother. Annie could almost see the weight lift off her shoulders as she spoke.

  Victoria stood, slipping the small jewelry box into her handbag. “Thank you for everything,” she said quietly. She looked toward the darkened kitchen window. “I should go. I heard you were going to the dance performance this evening, and I’ve kept you too long.”

  Annie’s eyes grew wide, and she looked down at her watch. She’d completely forgotten about the plan, and her friends were due at any minute. “Oh, I have to make some phone calls,” she said, edging toward the door. “But I’m glad we had this time together.”

  Victoria nodded. She followed Annie to the front door, and then she impulsively reached out and hugged Annie. “Thank you again,” she said. “I feel like you gave me back my mother.”

  “You know,” Annie said, “I didn’t think this mystery could have a happy ending. It looks like I was wrong. I’m so glad.”

  Annie stood on the porch while Victoria walked out to her pale silver Lexus that shone in the light of the full moon. As the Lexus drove out onto the street, Stella’s Lincoln Continental pulled in. Annie spotted Jason in the driver’s seat and returned his nod.

  As Gwen and Stella piled out of the car, Alice strode across the yard from the carriage house. “I’m so sorry,” Annie called out. “The plan is off.”

  The three woman stopped and stared at her in surprise. “Why?”

  “The mystery is solved. Do you want to come in and hear how it ended? I don’t want you to miss your performance,” she said.

  “Forget the performance,” Stella said. “Of course we want to hear.”

  “Just let me go get Ian,” Alice called, holding up a hand as she turned to trot back toward the carriage house. “Don’t spill any secrets without me!”

  Soon the whole group was gathered in the cheery parlor, sipping coffee and nibbling shortbread cookies while Annie told them all about Victoria’s visit.

  “My goodness,” Stella said. “I would never have imagined that ending. Imagine keeping a secret like that.”

  “She told Gram,” Annie said. “And I believe she would have told her daughter if the disease hadn’t prevented it. I can’t imagine she would have wanted Victoria to suffer. Family clearly mattered to her.”

  “Family and pride,” Gwen said. “I’ve been guilty of that myself.”

  “And me,” Stella admitted.

  “Well, it sounds to me like Annie Dawson has done another good deed for Stony Point,” Ian said, smiling at her warmly.

  Annie felt her face flush slightly, and quickly she changed the subject. “You know what this means.”

  The group looked at her quizzically.

  “It means Jenna Paige is just an over-eager, young woman who wanted to find a nice town,” Annie said.

  Stella sighed heavily. “I suppose I do owe her an apology.”

  “You don’t think she’s going to want to join the Hook and Needle Club?” Gwen asked anxiously.

  “No, I think she’s given up needlework. I don’t even know if they will be moving here. She didn’t sound sure, but if she finds out how f
riendly this town can be, I think we could be proud of that.”

  Stella grumbled a bit more, and Jason shot Annie a grin that showed he completely approved. Annie suspected Stella’s driver and longtime friend could also be her conscience now and then.

  “OK,” Alice said, “I have something to tell about this mystery too. Something I found out today.”

  “At the library?”

  “Not exactly,” she said. “I ran into Linda Hunter on the street, and she told me John MacFarlane checked out of Maplehurst Inn and left town. I guess he didn’t feel the need to say goodbye.”

  “How do you feel about that?” Annie asked.

  “Mostly relieved,” Alice said. “I’m finally feeling like that’s a part of my life I can close the door on.” Then she grinned. “I did hear something else about it.”

  Now all the curiosity turned toward Alice.

  “Linda said she’s pretty sure he didn’t leave alone,” she said. “Apparently Sunny Day thought she could get ahead better with John than by working at the inn.”

  “Oh, dear,” Gwen remarked. “Are you all right with that?”

  Alice shrugged. “Mostly I’m glad it’s not me—although I feel a little sorry for her.”

  “I suspect,” Gwen said, “that she’s a girl who knows how to land on her feet. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

  Annie watched her best friend closely as Alice shrugged. When she was convinced Alice really was fine, she smiled. This had been a strange mystery, and she was glad to have it settled.

  Stella spoke up. “You know, if we hurry, we still might make it to the dance performance. Instead of being part of a plan, it can be a kind of celebration.”

  When everyone agreed, Annie glanced down at her clothes. “I’m dressed a little casually,” she said, smoothing a hand over the A-line corduroy skirt.

  “It’s not formal,” Alice insisted, tugging on her friend’s arm.

  “And you look very nice,” Ian threw in.

  So she let them hustle her out the front door. As she turned for one last glance at Grey Gables, she smiled as she pictured Gram standing on the porch, happy to see her beloved granddaughter surrounded by such good friends.