A Devious Lot (Antiques & Collectibles Mysteries Book 5) (6 page)

Boyle looked at her and nodded. “Wait here,” he said.

He went into the cottage and returned a few minutes later with his notebook and pen in hand. He surprised Molly when he sat down beside her on the bench.

“Let’s start at the beginning,” he said, crossing his legs. He wore thick-soled scuffed black shoes and brown socks that clashed with his navy blue suit. “You met Tiffany the first time yesterday at a tea,” he repeated.

“Yes, we were invited by Brenda Adair. She owns Channing Hall, and she’s friends with my aunt. Her son, Giles, and his fiancée, Penelope Cassidy, were there as well. Giles and Penelope work for Brenda at her antique shop, Bits & Pieces. Tiffany is Giles’s ex-girlfriend. She wasn’t invited; she crashed the party. I think she wanted to press Giles into buying back a piece of antique jewelry he’d given her. He wanted it, but she refused to give it to him unless he paid her for it.”

“Did it work?”

“Yeah, he agreed to buy it. But he wasn’t happy about it.”

“What kind of jewelry?”

“It’s a small ivory brooch with a portrait of a woman’s eye, most likely painted in the eighteenth century or early nineteenth century. They were called eye miniatures at the time, although Tiffany was calling it the more modern term of lover’s eye.”

“Did she have the brooch with her when she left?”

“Yes, she put it in her purse. You’ll find it on the table by the front door.”

“I’ve already had a look through it,” he said. “I didn’t see a jewelry box.”

“Oh. Well, she must have taken it out when she got home. It’s probably somewhere else inside.”

Constable Markesan appeared in the doorway. “Sir. The techs would like a word with you.”

“Be right there,” Boyle said, standing up. “Excuse me,” he said to Molly.

“Wait,” she said. “I left my phone at my aunt’s, and my husband is going to be worried when he can’t find me. He has no idea I’m here. May I borrow yours?”

He pointed to the cell phone in her hand. “Isn’t that your phone?”

“No, it’s Tiffany’s. I meant to give it to you.” She handed him the phone. “I didn’t want to use it, in case . . .”

“Here, take mine.” He gave his cell to Molly. “Wait here.”

He walked off, and Molly was surprised to see he used a simple flip-phone model. Inspector Boyle, she surmised, was old school. She dialed Matt’s phone. He answered on the first ring and sounded frantic. “Who’s this?”

“It’s me, don’t worry, I’m at Tiffany’s,” Molly said, and quickly told him what had happened.

“I’m on my way,” Matt said.

A few minutes later, Matt jogged up the driveway. “I told Tessa what happened and she’s freaking out. It was all I could do to get her to stay home. You’re white as a sheet.”

“I’ll be all right,” she said.

Boyle came out of the house and nodded at Matt. “You must be the husband,” he said. “Inspector Devon Boyle.”

“Matt Harrison.”

“Your wife told me Tiffany interrupted a tea party at Channing Hall yesterday. Do you have any thoughts about why she did that?”

Matt considered the question. “I think she wanted to get Giles’s attention. He evidently wanted a piece of antique jewelry he’d given her, and she wasn’t going to let him have it unless he paid her for it.”

Molly added, “She also had words with Brenda. She told her she lived in a make-believe world and someday it would all come crashing down around her.”

Boyle wrote in his book, and looked up when a white van pulled into the driveway. “That will be the coroner,” he said. “Would you both mind waiting here? I need to talk to her.”

“Sure, no problem,” Molly said.

Boyle went down to meet the coroner. Matt rubbed Molly’s neck. “What did you see when you got here?” he asked.

“Not much,” she said. “The back door was open. Gingersnap knew right where to find her. Tiffany was eating a fish sandwich when she died. Do you think she could have choked on a fish bone?”

“It’s possible, or she could have had a preexisting medical condition we don’t know about. The coroner will be able to determine the cause of death.”

Molly shivered and Matt put his arm around her. They sat on the bench together, keeping each other warm, and she thought about Tiffany. She was so full of life the day before, it was hard to believe she was dead. Was she murdered, was it an accident, or could it be a natural death? Selfishly, Molly hoped she wasn’t murdered. She wasn’t in the mood to be anywhere near another murder investigation. She was still on her honeymoon.

Boyle escorted an official-looking middle-aged woman into the cottage and eventually rejoined them. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. “The coroner is doing a preliminary examination, and I’ve asked her to make this case a high priority.”

“Will you be searching the house?” Molly asked.

“Of course,” he said. “There’s a forensic team on the way.”

“Don’t forget to tell them to look for the eye miniature,” Molly said. “Giles seemed pretty intent on getting it back.”

“You think he killed her for a piece of jewelry?”

“I think there was tension between them,” Molly said. “And when people get emotional, they sometimes make bad decisions.”

“Your aunt, Tessa Paulson, did she know Tiffany well?”

“I know they got together occasionally for coffee or tea, but you’d really have to ask her how well she knew her.”

Boyle glanced at his watch. “I have a lot of calls to make and people to interview,” he said. “I’ll also need a signed statement from you, if you wouldn’t mind, and your fingerprints for elimination purposes. Can you stop by the station today?”

“Yes, of course,” Molly said.

Boyle gave her his card. “I’m retiring the first of December,” he said. “I’d like to get this case wrapped up soon. If you think of anything else I should know, or have any ideas you want to share, I’d appreciate hearing from you. Will your aunt be home all day?”

“Probably.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ll stop by later. Thank you both for your time.”

Boyle walked back to the house, and Matt took hold of Molly’s hand. As they walked back to Foxcoat Cottage, he said, “As soon as we get home, I’m going to light a fire and get you a hot coffee. Your hand is as cold as ice.”

“I’m worried about Gingersnap,” Molly said. “She ran into the woods.”

“Don’t worry. She came to Tessa’s for help, and she led you to Tiffany’s. She’s a smart cat. I’m sure she’ll be back.”

London, England

July 12, 1851

Julius stepped into the grand marble foyer of the Abernathy’s London townhome in Mayfair at quarter to eight on a cool summer evening. He handed his coat and hat to the manservant, and nodded at his friend, Percy, who stood in the doorway of the parlor waiting for him. They were similarly dressed in evening attire—black pants, black waistcoat jacket, and a white shirt and tie.

“Thank you for coming early,” Percy said. “Let’s have a drink before the others arrive. We need to talk.”

Julius joined him in the parlor. Two tumblers of whiskey were already poured and waiting. Percy handed him one. The room was spacious, with high ceilings and heavy furniture, but it felt warm and intimate with a wood fire burning in the fireplace and heavy brocade curtains drawn across the windows. Julius took a sip of his drink. From the grim look on Percy’s face, he feared he was going to need as much fortifying as possible.

“I’m afraid to ask what this is about,” Julius said. “Is it something to do with Lillian?”

“Yes, it is. I hate being the bearer of bad news,” Percy said. “Harriett received a letter from her earlier today.” He paused. “She’s accepted Victor Henson’s proposal of marriage.” Julius felt his heart sink. “It’s not been made public yet, but it’s only a matter of time. She plans on telling you tonight, but I thought you should know in advance. A setting such as this isn’t conducive to such terrible news. I feared you might be in shock and need time to recover.”

Julius looked into his glass. The amber liquid held no answers. Soon, dinner guests would arrive to celebrate Harriett Abernathy’s eighteenth birthday, and he would be forced to smile and act as if nothing was wrong, when in truth, his world was falling apart.

“Of course, it’s shocking to hear,” Julius said. “But I can’t say I’m surprised. Her father’s been pushing him on her for months.”

“It cannot stand; it must not,” Percy said firmly. “Since that fateful day you met at the Crystal Palace, it’s clear to everyone you’re meant to be together.”

“Clear to everyone, but her parents,” Julius said sadly. “Her father has won. I must admit defeat. Lillian is lost to me.”

“You must fight for her,” Percy said. “Talk to her father. Lord Gilbert is a reasonable man. I’m sure he’ll see the error of his ways when he realizes how much you care for each other. It’s wrong of him to force Lillian into a loveless marriage.”

Julius cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Percy, I should have told you I met Lillian’s parents a week after we met.” Percy’s eyebrows went up. “Lillian invited me to her home, hoping her father could be persuaded to accept me.” Julius took another, longer, drink of whiskey. “They were polite and cordial, but after I left, her father ordered her not to see me again. He told her she must resign herself to marrying Henson. Since then, she’s been trying to wear him down, to make him see reason, but to no avail.”

Percy frowned. “Good God, man. I’m terribly sorry. I thought if Lord Gilbert met you he would surely drop this insane scheme.”

Julius slugged back the rest of the whiskey, hoping its soothing properties would kick in soon. When the others arrived, he would have to mingle and converse for an hour before dinner was served. It would be torture.

“Meeting Lillian has been the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to me,” Julius said. “The best, because I have finally known what it is to love someone, and the worst, because I must give her up.”

“There must be a way,” Percy said. “Have you heard the rumors about Victor Henson?”

Julius shook his head. “You know I don’t travel in your social circles. How would I have heard any rumors?”

“Well, you’re in my social circle now, so allow me to enlighten you. You know he’s a widower?”

“Yes, I know his wife died last year. Was she ill?”

“That’s just the thing . . . the rumor is that he killed her. By poisoning her, no less.”

Julius stared at him. “Was there an inquest?”

“Yes, only because her parents insisted on it,” Percy said. “Her death was deemed to be from natural causes. Not surprising really, considering Henson is an important man in the business community, and very, very wealthy. There are many people who would support him no matter what he did.”

“Does Lillian’s father know?”

“Of course,” Percy said. “My father told me another rumor about Henson. It’s believed he spends much time in the company of fallen women in Whitechapel, and that he has beaten a few of them.”

“What?” Julius felt the whiskey burning his empty stomach. “He beats women, and pays them for . . . ?”

“Yes.”

“How cruel, and criminal. To treat any women that way, and his wife.”

“Indeed.” Percy slugged back his drink. “And now Henson is in pursuit of a new wife, and has set his sights on Lillian. Her father appears to be of the camp that chooses not to believe the rumors.”

The parlor doors opened and a servant came in to collect their empty glasses. There were never drinks served during the mingling hour, much to Julius’s disappointment. He could have used another. With their guests soon to arrive, Harriett appeared in a rustle of silk skirts. Her dress was pink with white ribbons, her hair was adorned with red roses. She went to Julius, and her eyes filled with tears.

He kissed her hand and said, “Happy birthday, Harriett. Please don’t let anything ruin your special day.”

“Dear Julius.” She glanced at Percy. “My brother has told you . . . ?”

“Yes, he did,” Julius said.

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know if I can do anything,” Julius said. “It’s out of my power to stop the marriage from happening.”

Percy said, “Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.”

The clock chimed eight, and voices sounded in the hallway. Harriett positioned herself by the door. Julius knew a few of the guests, fellow students at Cambridge, but the unattached female friends of Harriett were strangers. She did her part and paired them off with the men. Julius waited for Lillian to appear, and when she did, she seemed to float into the room, ethereal and beautiful. Her dress was pale blue, and silver clips with pearls held up her hair. Harriett gave her over to Julius as her escort, then went off to talk to her other guests.

Julius was speechless as he looked at her. They’d been meeting secretly at the Crystal Palace two, sometimes three days a week since their first meeting. Getting lost in the crowds was easy, and Margaret came along as an excuse for Lillian to be there. Still, they had to be careful word didn’t get back to her father.

“You look lovely tonight,” he said.

In their time together at the Great Exhibition, he’d never seen her in such an elegant gown. She was so beautiful, he felt his eyes fill with tears as he realized this would probably be the last time he ever saw her.

She said quietly, “You know, don’t you? I can see it on your face. Harriett told you my terrible news.”

“Actually, it was Percy who did the telling. He didn’t want me to be shocked in front of the others. Please forgive me if I don’t congratulate you on your engagement.”

Her lower lip trembled. “You must hate me,” she whispered.

“On the contrary,” he whispered back. “I love you, Lillian. I want to marry you and be with you the rest of my life.” It was all he could do not to take her in his arms and comfort her, and himself. “We belong together.”