Juniper Grove Cozy Mystery Box Set 1, page 38
part #1 of Juniper Grove Cozy Mystery Series
“But he or she couldn’t. By Thanksgiving night, it was in Anne’s room.”
“Then we’re back to revenge.”
“And new scenarios.”
“Look who just walked in.” Julia shifted in her seat, trying to make herself invisible. “I think he sees us.”
“Too late,” I said under my breath. In a few quick strides of his long legs, Dominic Larson was at our table.
“What a surprise,” he said, towering over Julia. This was a man accustomed to using his height to intimidate.
“Please join us,” I said.
From the corner of my eye I saw Julia jerk her head toward me. But it was either ask Dominic to sit, and so bring him down to our level, or allow him to loom over us like the Sears Tower.
“My pleasure,” he said. He dragged out a chair and sank down into it. “So what are we talking about? Wait, let me guess. Killers and thieves, cops and robbers. Am I right?” Delighted by his own witty banter, he rubbed his hands together.
“I thought you cared about Paige,” I said. “You seemed genuinely upset when you found out she’d been murdered.”
Dominic stared at me as though I’d committed a great social faux pas. “I liked Paige, and yes, I was upset. What’s with you?”
“You’re joking about killers,” I said.
“All right, just thieves, then. We’ll forget the killers. Happy? It’s obvious Paige was a thief, though. But so was Anne Rightler.”
“How well did you know Anne?”
“Not well. I knew she stole things from Nora. Every time she was at her house. Nora let her do it. Patted her on the head, never called the police. It drove me crazy. I insured those things, and they were at risk.”
“I thought you liked Anne too.”
“I got a kick out of her. She was a nice old woman, but she shouldn’t have taken that miniature. We were all in the documents room, talking about how precious it was, remember? Anne even asked if it was precious, and Kendra said yes. So instead of taking something insignificant, she took that. What if it had been damaged?”
“Luckily for all of you, it wasn’t in her pocket when she was pushed down the stairs.”
“I didn’t say Anne’s death—look, I don’t believe she was pushed down the stairs. Have the police said that?”
“The Thanksgiving holiday delayed the medical examiner’s report. We’ll know the official cause of death soon.”
“Only half of it.” Dominic scanned the table. “Water glass?”
“Take mine,” I said, sliding it his way. “What do you mean half?”
“We’ll know how she died but not who killed her.” He fished his wallet out of an inside coat pocket, picked through the slots, and extracted a foil packet. “Ibuprofen,” he said. “I wrenched my back.”
“Sorry to hear that. How did it happen?”
“Moving boxes in the basement.” He tore open the pack and took two pills, downing half his water.
“So who do you think killed Paige and Anne?”
“Ben, Kendra, or Nora, because it wasn’t me and it wasn’t Sheila.”
Julia, who up until now had remained silent, gasped and shook a finger at him. “You should be ashamed. You make your living from Nora’s money and you accuse her of murder? That tells me it was you, Dominic Larson. Only a bad man would shift blame to a decent woman.”
“I’m only looking at things logically, Julia.”
“Logically,” I said, “what was Nora’s reason for killing Anne?”
“She stole the one thing from that documents room that really mattered to Nora. Somehow Paige did the same thing. I heard she’s the one who got the miniature out of Nora’s house.”
I ignored his unspoken question: How did she do it? I sensed that he already knew. “It didn’t matter to Nora half as much as it mattered to Kendra.”
“Then Kendra did it.” He slipped his wallet into his coat and stood.
“Logically, what was her reason?” I asked, gazing upward.
“Ask Kendra. I lost track of how many times she said she could murder ‘that old lady’ for touching her precious artifacts. The same would apply to Paige.”
“And Ben?” I said, asking before he could walk away. “Logically?”
“Anne risked damaging the artifact that would change the St. Vrain time line,” he said, wiggling his fingers in mock excitement. “The vaunted St. Vrain time line. He couldn’t take a chance it would happen again, and he was angry with Paige because she could have lost the miniature forever.”
“Ben didn’t care if he didn’t have the original,” I countered.
“His dissertation director would,” Dominic said. “He promised he was basing his dissertation in part on a newly found artifact.”
He left without another word, his giant legs taking him to the front door, where Sheila was waiting for him. How long had she been standing there? I wondered. They seated themselves at a two-seat table near the door.
“I’ve noticed that Dominic never helps Sheila with her coat or stands for her,” I said.
“Murderers aren’t polite,” Julia said, returning to her sandwich. “He put me off my food.”
“There’s something funny about him.”
“Accusing Nora.”
“I’m not saying he’s the killer.”
“I’ll say it.”
“We should meet again tonight. The gang.”
“I’m ready.”
“I don’t like the feeling I’m getting, Julia. I think Nora’s in danger.”
Julia dropped her sandwich to her plate. “From Dominic?”
“If I knew that, I’d tell Gilroy. I need more information.”
“Then you get it. I’ll lose my friend soon enough, but not this way. Not this way.”
CHAPTER 14
“I need to do some research of my own,” I said, heading west on Main Street.
“The library?” Julia asked.
“My computer.”
My latest encounters with Dominic and the Wallaces had given me an idea—a new avenue of approach. What did I know about this St. Vrain? Nothing, really. I saw his name from time to time. A Colorado river, school district, state park, valley, and even soccer club bore his name. It was time to do some digging.
When I turned the corner onto Finch Hill Road, I saw a police SUV, its lights flashing red and blue, sitting in front of my house—and Holly outside my front gate, leaning in, waiting. She heard my car, spun back, and waved me down.
I lurched to a stop behind the SUV and hopped out.
“You’re all right!” Holly cried, rushing over to me. I stared, bewildered, and she hugged me. “As long as you’re all right.”
“What’s happening on my street?” Julia said.
Holly laughed and brushed back a tear. “Oh, Julia, you always take things personally. How I love you.”
Julia’s hands went to her hips. “Holly Kavanagh, what’s going on?”
“Yes, what?” I said. “Is that Gilroy in my house?” I started for my gate but she pulled me back.
“He just got here. He hasn’t had time to search it yet.”
“Search it? Why?”
“Now, be calm. I took the afternoon off from the bakery, and I stopped by with a cream puff, and—”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Julia said, rolling her eyes.
“And I noticed your front door was open,” Holly went on. “I walked into the living room and looked through to the kitchen, and I saw someone had opened your back door.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Someone had invaded my home.
“I ran out and called Gilroy. I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” I said.
“Running and maybe leaving you inside.”
“You had to run. Of course you run. Don’t be silly. Anyone could be in there.” Now it was my turn to hug Holly. “What are you going to do, fight them with a pastry box?”
“I dropped it in the living room.”
“Well, let us pray the cream puff made it through the experience,” Julia said.
I saw Gilroy trotting down my porch steps and hurried to meet him in my front garden.
“There’s no one in there,” he said, holding up his hands, trying to reassure me. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” I said. Inside, I was shaking.
“Your back door was broken into, your front door is okay, and I don’t see any damage inside, but I’d like you to walk me through it.”
I nodded and numbly followed him into my house while Julia and Holly waited on the porch.
“Your front door still locks,” Gilroy said, closing it behind him. “It’s your back door I’m concerned about. It looks like they used a crowbar to pry the molding and get around the deadbolt.”
“They?”
“A figure of speech. Are you all right?”
I nodded again. “It’s a cheap door and an even cheaper lock.”
“Do you see anything wrong in the living room?”
“No. Did you check upstairs too?”
“Everywhere. Including the closets, the cabinets, and under your bed.”
“Just like you’d search for monsters,” I mumbled.
We went over my house room by room, but to my surprise, nothing was missing and nothing other than my back door was damaged. Whoever broke in hadn’t even touched my computer. Someone was trying to scare me by showing me they could enter my house at any time, and they were doing a good job of it. Gilroy took a pen and notebook from inside his coat and we sat at my kitchen table.
“Officer Underhill will be here any moment now to dust for prints, but I have to tell you, I’m not optimistic,” he said.
“I’m sure they used gloves.”
“They might not be in the system.”
“That depends. Do the Wallaces or Larsons have police records?”
I heard the front door creak open and Officer Underhill call for Gilroy. “Ready to dust,” he said, striding eagerly into the kitchen, carrying a black plastic case—his fingerprint kit. He was in his glory.
“Start with the front and back doors,” Gilroy said. “Rachel, we’ll need your prints for elimination. Tomorrow at the station? Mrs. Foster’s and Mrs. Kavanagh’s too, if they would.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” I said.
“Is it? I’ve lost track of time. Make it Monday, then.”
I could hear Underhill humming a cheery tune as he set to work on the front door. “You need to hire another officer.”
“I did. He starts in one week.”
“When did that happen?”
“I just got the go-ahead from the mayor and Board of Trustees.”
So that’s why Underhill was humming. “Maybe you and Underhill can get some sleep now.”
“What time did you leave your house this morning?” Gilroy asked.
“About a quarter to eight. This is the first time I’ve been back all day.” I lowered my chin into my hand. “Ben and Kendra Wallace left Nora’s house before I did,” I said. “You saw them. They couldn’t leave fast enough.”
“Do you think they did this?”
“I think they were stealing from Nora. Though Kendra looked genuinely shocked that her database had been changed, and she wasn’t the only one who had access to it.”
“You’re going to have to back up there.”
For the next few minutes I went over the discrepancies Nora had shown me in the two printouts, and I told him about the recovered ledger drawing. A little frown furrowed his brow now and then, but Gilroy listened to me and never once asked me what on earth I was up to now—though I could tell those words were on the tip of his tongue.
“Nora thinks Kendra edited the catalog file so there would be no record of the drawing and she could sell it to finance her museum,” I said. “If it wasn’t Kendra, it was Ben or one of the others. Someone changed that file so they could steal artifacts. It’s pretty easy pickings. I don’t think Nora knows half of what’s in her documents room, and those four have—or had—free run of the house.”
“Found some good prints,” Underhill said, strolling toward my back door. “But they’re probably yours, Rachel.”
“I wonder why Paige put the miniature in Anne’s room,” I said absentmindedly.
“A guilty conscience,” Underhill said, dipping his brush into the lid of a fingerprint powder jar. “But she couldn’t take it back to Nora Barberton’s house or she’d be caught. She knew she was taking leftovers to Aspen Glen, and voilà.”
That’s not a bad theory, I thought. Underhill surprised me.
“Or she wanted to make it look like Anne had taken it,” he added.
“Mrs. Rightler was dead before the miniature was found,” Gilroy reminded him.
Underhill began to spin his brush over and around the doorknob, depositing his black powder. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. The days and hours are running into each other. But not for long, eh, Chief?” He looked back at Gilroy, a huge smile on his face, and Gilroy smiled back.
“Can we come in?” Julia called, edging her way from the living room into the kitchen. “We won’t touch anything.”
“Sure,” Gilroy said, rising from the table and offering Julia his seat.
Holly walked in behind Julia, the pink pastry box in her hand. “It landed face up,” she said.
“Thank heaven for that,” Julia said. “I don’t know how I would have slept, thinking the box had overturned.”
Holly set the box gently, slowly in the middle of the table, as though it held a delicate treasure, and then shot Julia an exaggerated scowl.
“There won’t be any useful fingerprints,” I said.
“Let’s not give up just yet,” Underhill said. As he snapped photos of the gray-powder prints around my doorknob, he started whistling.
“Rachel, I think you should stay elsewhere tonight,” Gilroy said. “Until you can get a locksmith to fix that door and install a better deadbolt.”
“I have an idea,” Holly said. “Pizza here this evening, the three of us, and then you sleep at my house tonight.”
“You get up at four o’clock in the morning,” Julia said. “Rachel can stay at my house.”
“Sounds like you have two good options,” Gilroy said, looking pleased. I realized then that he’d allowed Julia and Holly into the house so they’d hear his warning to me and take action.
The gravity of the break-in was beginning to sink in. Replacing a door and staying with Julia or Holly was easy, but my sense of security wouldn’t return until the culprit was caught.
“Why are you looking so glum?” Holly asked me. “They didn’t steal anything, you’re safe, and you’ll fix the door tomorrow.”
“Someone was in my house, probably touching my things. And I’d like to sleep in my own bed tonight.”
“Don’t,” Gilroy said.
“What if they come back and steal something?”
“Do you want to be here if they do?”
“Good point.”
“I don’t think they will, Rachel,” he said, “but I don’t want you to risk your safety on my hunch. I’m asking you to stay with one of your friends.”
Julia, who I feared was on the verge of saying aww, rose from the table. “You wanted to go shopping, Rachel?”
I did? “Okay. Sure.”
“Let me take care of a few things next door and I’ll be back,” Julia said before making a quick exit.
“Me too,” Holly said. “I’ll be right back—wait for me.”
Underhill had finished his task at the back door and was packing up his fingerprint kit. “Do you have a two-by-four or something like it?” he asked. “I could nail it across the door to keep it from opening when the wind blows or something.”
“Excellent idea,” Gilroy said.
“I’ve got a few pieces of wood in my garage that should do the job. I’ll get one.”
“You stay there,” Underhill said. “Garage door key?” he asked, taking my key ring from a hook by the door.
“The one with the green key cover,” I replied. “Thank you, Officer.”
The sound of Underhill rolling back my garage door seemed loud in the sudden silence of the kitchen. Gilroy fastened his blue eyes on me. Why had I ever thought they were cold? They were pale, but pale as a mountain lake. The loveliest eyes I’d ever seen.
“Promise me you’re not going to stay here alone,” he said.
“I promise.”
“If you stayed here, I’d worry all night.”
“I’ll stay with Julia or Holly.”
“Good.”
I let loose a long sigh and slumped back in my chair. “You know, after eighty-seven years of life, Anne Rightler deserved better than to die the way she did. And Nora . . . I can’t say why, but she needs my help.” I had changed subjects on a dime, but Gilroy didn’t miss a beat.
“You’re stubborn, Rachel. And smart. And your kind heart gets you into trouble. But you do have a kind heart, and that’s worth just about any price. I don’t like it, but I understand why you want to help them.”
It had been a long time since anyone had said anything of the sort to me. My ex-fiance, Brent, had never been generous with his words. Telling others what he knew they needed or wanted to hear made him feel vulnerable, and he couldn’t stand that. Gilroy was made of stronger stuff. I was falling in love with the man.
CHAPTER 15
“I’m so worried about Nora,” Julia said. “She could be in danger, and we’re talking about ordering pizza.”
“It’s still daylight,” I said, scrolling down a long list of search results on my computer monitor. Who knew there was so much information on Ceran St. Vrain? “We could check on her tonight. Want to?”
“I’d feel better if we did.”
Holly wandered behind my desk and peered over my shoulder at the monitor. “What is it about St. Vrain you’re looking for?”
“I don’t know, really. I’m hoping something will jump out at me.” I clicked on the Images link and the page filled with paintings, drawings, and photographs of St. Vrain, all of them of a much older man than the man in Nora’s miniature. Connecting my cell phone to my computer, I downloaded the photo I’d taken of the miniature in Anne’s bedroom and enlarged it on the monitor.
