A Devious Lot (Antiques & Collectibles Mysteries Book 5) (17 page)

“Is what the same?”

“The bloody no-smoking rules,” Robyn said.

“Oh, yeah, pretty much,” Molly said.

Robyn shook her head. “We used to be a free people, but now we’re suffocating under all the dos and don’ts. Effing meddlers. Anyway, why’re you asking about Penelope?”

“Do you know her?”

“We were friends,” Robyn said. “Sassy Lassie was around the corner, and we got to know each other.”

“You took over the lease on this space when she closed the Gentle Dealer?”

“Yeah, so what? Why are you asking about her?”

“Penelope is missing.”

Robyn pointed the glowing tip of her cigarette at her. “You’re telling me something I already know.”

“What I mean is, she’s missing from the village where she’s been living with Giles Adair,” Molly said.

Robyn laughed. “Well, what do you know. Kurt will be pleased he won the bet.”

“By any chance does Kurt wear a World War Two bomber jacket and smell like curry?”

“That’s my man,” Robyn said. “He’s a chef at Spicy Bites. It’s an Indian restaurant, best one on the west side of London.”

“What was the bet about?”

“Where she’d gone,” Robyn said. “I thought she’d moved abroad, but Kurt bet on the countryside. I owe him a dinner.” She sucked on her cigarette. “I thought Dora’s death must have hit her so hard she couldn’t bear to stay. Now you’re telling me she’s been with Giles all this time. That part neither of us got right.”

“She’s been working with him at an antique store called Bits & Pieces,” Molly said. “His mother owns it. How do you know Giles?”

“He and Penelope had a fling,” Robyn said. “Only lasted a couple months, or so I thought. I can’t believe she went away with him.”

“Why?”

“She broke things off with him,” Robyn said. “And believe me, Penelope’s not the kind of girl who plays games. She meant it when she told him to get lost. She never wanted to see him again.”

“So they were dating, and then they broke up?”

“Yeah. They met at her shop and Penelope was instantly smitten, head over heels in love, which was a rare thing. She was always so busy with the shop and her volunteer work, she had little time to date. They started seeing each other around Christmas last year, but when he canceled their New Year’s Eve plans, she got worried something was wrong. I told her to be careful. She stuck it out until Valentine’s Day. They had plans to go to a party, but he canceled at the last minute. That’s when the jig was up.” Robyn grinned. “Giles really underestimated her. Guess it never occurred to him that she’d get suspicious and have the guts to follow him home after work. Idiot didn’t think to pull the shades down at his flat. Penelope saw him in the window, lip-locked with another woman. She broke up with him the next day.”

Molly assumed it was Tiffany she’d seen in the window. But could it have been another woman? “Where did she volunteer?” she asked.

“A homeless shelter called Ridgeway. It’s in Whitechapel.” She sucked on her cigarette and blew out a long stream of smoke. “That’s where she met Dora.”

“Dora volunteered at the shelter?”

Robyn burst out laughing. “God, no. Dora was a messed-up junkie when they met.” Molly felt her eyebrows shoot up. “Penelope helped her clean up her act. Gave her a job, a place to live.” Robyn stared at her cigarette. “I hate to be mean, talking about Giles and Dora this way, but I have to tell you, I never trusted either of them. Dora especially. I grew up in a bad neighborhood; I’m a realist when it comes to the world, because I know there are two types of people in it—givers and takers—and I know how to read them. I pegged Dora as a taker right from the beginning. Girls like her, no matter how you dress them up and fancy their speech, they don’t change. I warned Penelope to watch her back. Thought she’d rob her blind.” She looked at Molly. “You know Penelope’s loaded, right?”

“Yes, I do,” Molly said, her mind racing. Dora was an addict, Penelope helped her get clean, Giles and Penelope dated while he was still with Tiffany, and Penelope broke up with him when she found out. Robyn was a gold mine of information! “Why didn’t you trust Giles?”

“I told you, I can read people. He’s a liar and a cheat, and he broke my friend’s heart. What’s to like about him? All this time, since she’s been gone, I thought she went away because she was brokenhearted about Dora and the breakup with Giles, and one of these days, I’d hear from her and she’d apologize for leaving without a word. To hear she’s been with Giles the whole time is unbelievable.”

“Giles’s girlfriend’s name was Tiffany. After his father died, he stayed in Marlow Crossing with Penelope, and broke up with Tiffany over the phone. But Tiffany wasn’t ready to give him up, and followed him there.” Molly paused. “Tiffany was found dead at her cottage five days ago, murdered with poison hemlock mixed into her tea.” Robyn stared at her. “It doesn’t look good for Penelope, the way she took off. The police are looking for her. I’d like to find her first and talk to her.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think she had anything to do with it,” Molly said. It was a little white lie. If the evidence led to Penelope, she wouldn’t be surprised, but Robyn didn’t have to know that.

Robyn flicked ash from her cigarette and watched it float to the pavement. “Why do you think she named her shop the Gentle Dealer?”

“I have no idea,” Molly said.

“I’ll tell you why, because the name suits her. Penelope is gentle, she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. She’d do anything for anyone, and often did, even before they asked.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you find her, not if it’s got something to do with the police.” She threw her cigarette, and it landed too far away to stamp out. The smoke spiraled into the air as it burned. “I’ve got to get back to work,” she said.

“Wait, please. Did she ever mention a town called Rimstock in Yorkshire?”

“Not that I recall,” Robyn said in a flat tone.

Even if she did recognize the name, Molly thought, she probably wouldn’t tell her. But the eye miniature might get a reaction. She took it out and showed it to her. “What about this brooch? Have you seen it before?”

Robyn barely glanced at it. She headed to the door, but pointed down the alley. “The street is that way,” she said.

Chapter 19

As Molly walked past the antique shops on Portobello Road, she barely took note of them. She was too busy replaying the conversations she’d had with Anita and Robyn. She wasn’t sure it was important, but Penelope’s reputation—as a well-liked neighbor and friend—was in question. Anita and Robyn were both surprised by her behavior. She didn’t tell them about Dora’s death, she left London without saying good-bye, and she hadn’t been in touch since. In Robyn’s case, the hurt and confusion went deeper. She couldn’t understand why a woman as principled as Penelope reversed her decision to break up with Giles and moved away with him to Marlow Crossing. The only thing that made sense was the trauma of Dora’s death. It could certainly explain her actions, although selling the family townhome and the business she loved seemed extreme.

It wasn’t until Molly was ten minutes into her walk that she realized she was heading back to Kensington. Only a week ago she and Matt had taken a tour of Kensington Palace, the birthplace of Queen Victoria, and a former residence of Princess Diana, who’d kept an apartment there. The museum even had some of her dresses on display. They’d eaten lunch outside at the Broadwalk Café, a fast-food joint next to the Diana Memorial Playground for Children. With her stomach growling, Molly decided a quick lunch was exactly what she needed to fuel her brain power.

Her phone rang and she took it out of her purse. Clara was calling.

“Hi, Ma,” she said. “Did you get to Tessa’s all right?”

“Yes. Thank you again for ordering the car, it was a pleasant drive,” Clara said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m walking from Notting Hill to Kensington Gardens. I’m going to grab something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Have you found out anything about Tiffany and Penelope?”

“Yes, I have, but I’d rather talk to you about it when I see you later.”

“All right, I won’t keep you,” Clara said. “I did want to let you know I did a little research on eye miniature experts. There’s a curator at the Victoria and Albert Museum, his name is Blaze Hunter. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of calling him and told him about the eye miniature. He’s very interested to see it.”

“What’s his number?”

Clara read it out and Molly entered it in her phone. “I’ll call him and see if I can get an appointment today. But it’s almost twelve thirty and I want to catch the four o’clock train home.”

“He said he’d be there until six, so hopefully he can squeeze you into his schedule,” Clara said. “Good luck.”

Molly arrived at the park and went directly to the café. She ordered a flatbread pizza and a salad and sat at one of the picnic tables, where she could stretch out her long legs. The park was busier than she would have expected it to be on a fall day in the middle of the week. A group of toddlers and their mothers seemed to be having a playdate at the playground, and Molly enjoyed the sound of the children’s laughter. She finished her pizza and dialed the number for Blaze Hunter. His assistant answered, but was aware of her name and asked if she could come by the museum in an hour. When Molly agreed, he told her to check in at the information desk, as Blaze might not be in his office and would leave word there as to where she could find him.

With that done, she looked up the phone number for Kofi Tatum, the private investigator Tiffany had hired. Her next call was to him, and she was surprised when he picked up the phone personally.

“Kofi speaking,” he said.

“Mr. Tatum, my name is Molly Appleby. I’m visiting my aunt who lives in Marlow Crossing, and Tiffany Hadley was her neighbor. I don’t know if you’ve heard the news, but Tiffany was murdered five days ago.”

“No, no, no!” His voice exploded over the phone so loudly, Molly had to hold it away from her ear. “How did it happen?”

“Someone laced her tea with poison hemlock.”

“What? This is insane. Are you with the police?”

“No, but I’m assisting the detective in charge of the case, Inspector Devon Boyle.”

“In what capacity?”

“That’s a good question,” Molly said. “The truth is, I write for an antiques and collectibles magazine back home, and during the course of my career I’ve been involved in a few homicide investigations. Boyle asked if I’d be willing to talk to a few people.”

“Well, you must have a heck of a reputation,” he said. “I wish the cops would respect me that much to share. It would make my job a lot easier. How’d you find out about me?”

“Kara Malone at Mia Kara. She told me Tiffany hired you to follow Giles around.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “You know what I’m doing right now? I’m sitting in my car, staking out yet another philandering husband. I get a lot of these cases. It’s depressing. But ask what you want to know and I’ll do my best to answer.”

“Okay, do you remember the exact date that Tiffany hired you?”

“Not exact, but it had to be a few days after Christmas, because it was before New Year’s,” he said. “Over the next five or six weeks, I followed Giles around the city taking photos and making note of his meetings with his paramour, Penelope Cassidy. I gave the report and photos to Tiffany in early February.”

“Could I get a copy?”

“I don’t have the photographs anymore. Tiffany insisted I destroy them.”

“Why?”

“Privacy concerns. Not unusual in this day and age. Photos have a way of making their way onto the Internet and social media and people are paranoid, with good reason. I’ll have my assistant, Amrita, email the report to you, if you like.”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you,” Molly said, and gave him her email address. “Kofi, after you handed everything over to Tiffany, did you ever talk to her again?”

“No. She paid cash, and we were done.” He sighed. “I’m really angry about this. Did Giles kill her?”

“The police don’t have any proof yet, but they’re looking at him as a person of interest,” she said. “I should tell you, he’s engaged to marry Penelope now, but Penelope took off in her car the day Tiffany was murdered.”

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the line. “What can I do to help?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. Is there anything damaging in the report? Did you get photos of him using drugs or doing something else criminal?”

“You mean something worse than diddling around on his longtime girlfriend with another woman?”

Molly cringed at his fierce tone. “Sorry, I only meant—”

Kofi interrupted her. “I apologize. I know what you meant. It’s the thought of that beautiful girl being killed. I can’t believe it. The answer to your question is, no. I got photos of Giles and Penelope together, showing off a lot of PDA, but nothing criminal on his part or hers.”

“PDA? You mean public displays of affection?” Molly asked. “I just want to make sure it means the same thing in England as it does in America.”

“Yeah, same thing,” he said. “He was all over her, and she was into it. I don’t know what’s wrong with people. I’ve been married fifteen years, got three kids. I love and respect my wife. If I didn’t, I’d extend her the courtesy of telling her to her face I was done, instead of lying and sneaking around behind her back.”

“I agree, it’s not fair,” Molly said.

Kofi huffed. “Well, I can’t change the world, can I? But the wife and I try our best to teach our kids right from wrong. Anyway, I’ll call Amrita as soon as we hang up and tell her to send you the report.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Molly said.

“No need to thank me. If there’s anything else you or the police need—anything at all I can do to help you catch her killer—you let me know.”

“I will.”

“Oh, and one other favor.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Let me know when the bastard is caught.”

“I will,” Molly said.

She checked her watch. Plenty of time to make one more phone call before she headed over to the Victoria and Albert Museum. She looked up the phone number of the Ridgeway Shelter in Whitechapel and wondered how the police were able to get things done before the invention of the smartphone. It must have taken them a long time to make inquiries. It certainly made her life, and this assignment, a whole lot easier.