Deadly Diamond: A Murfy the Cat Mystery (15 page)

“Independent as they are, cats find more than pleasure in our company.”

––
Lloyd Alexander

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE:
The Last Umatilla Trip

Alyx didn’t want to give Carole Berth the opportunity to say no, so she didn’t call ahead before driving to Umatilla again. The temperature was in the high seventies and the sun was shining as usual. It was a lovely day and I was enjoying myself. Better known for palm trees, the beach and Walt Disney World, we drove through the part of Florida that most people from out of state don’t know exists. We passed several miles of agricultural fields, a small grove of orange trees, and an open field with cattle grazing contently, some up close to the fence, their big brown eyes watching the occasional vehicle drive by.

We arrived at Carole’s door before noon. A pale, sickly looking twenty-something young man answered the door. Alyx gave her name and asked to see Carole.

“She’s not home,” he wheezed.

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“No clue,” he shrugged.

“Do you mind if I sit out here and wait for a while?”

“Fine with me,” he responded and he closed the door.

She came back to the car and we waited. At one point, I caught the movement of a curtain at one of the windows. I didn’t think it was Carole’s son; the figure I glimpsed before it moved away was much larger. I thought it was probably her husband, and I had a fleeting idea as to why he was hiding from Alyx.

Carole finally arrived home, and was naturally surprised to see Alyx, not to mention me.

“What are you doing out here? Didn’t anyone come to the door?”

“Yes, a young man, who I assume is your son, answered the door, and I told him I’d sit out here and wait for you. He seemed to be having trouble catching his breath, and I didn’t want to make him feel any more uncomfortable. Does he have heart problems?”

“No, he’s full of allergies and has asthma. As you can guess, he doesn’t spend much time outdoors. I’m sorry, did we have an appointment that I forgot?” she asked, more than a little annoyed, I thought.

Alyx pulled the check from the estate sale out of her bag and handed it to her.

“I thought since I had the time, I’d bring this to you.”

Carole took the check and shoved it in her purse. “That really wasn’t necessary, I told you it was all right to mail it,” she said.

“Well, it’s a little more than what I felt comfortable mailing. We sold almost everything and paid you for the items we kept. I’ll arrange for those few things we didn’t sell to be picked up this week if you don’t mind me keeping the key a few days longer.”

I looked hard for any reluctance and didn’t see any––only irritation.

“Actually, the truth for my visit is that I have some questions, and I hope you understand that I have to do whatever I can to help find Althea’s killer.”

“You still want to help her even though my aunt lied to you?”

“If, as you say, she was sick, then she wasn’t responsible for her behavior.”

Carole pursed her lips in resignation but still didn’t invite us in. “So what do you want to know?”

“Detective Smarts isn’t obligated to tell me anything, and he hasn’t, even though I found two pieces of evidence that he missed. Judging from the contents of the lingerie chest that were scattered on Althea’s bed, you must have been looking for something too. Did you find what you were looking for?”

“I really have to go. My husband is waiting for something he asked me to pick up for him.”

Alyx stepped off the porch and abruptly turned around before Carole turned the knob.

“Does your husband have a heart condition?”

“I don’t see how my family’s health is of any concern to you. No, he doesn’t.”

That was the end of the conversation. She left Alyx standing there and went into the house without a backward look.

“
The sun rose slowly, like a fiery fur ball coughed up uneasily onto a sky-blue carpet by a giant unseen cat.”

––
Michael McGarel

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX:
The Train Station Incident
 

“Hi, Maggie, I know you were worried about my trip to Umatilla, so I thought I’d let you know,” Alyx said into her cell phone as we wound our way back home. “I’m on my way back, about twenty miles out, taking a side trip to the Amtrak railroad station, mostly for sentimental reasons.”

She told Maggie that she remembered the time she’d taken ten year-old Ethan on his first train ride––taking the train to the next stop and back. She said that according to the article she’d read in the paper, the station, originally built in 1813, had a doubtful future as there was only a small amount of money earmarked for its rehab project.

The right exit came up; the route took us through an older residential neighborhood to Old New York Avenue, and into the empty, gravel parking lot of the station. Alyx got out of the car and walked the short distance to the benches on the boarding platform. She seemed preoccupied as she walked slowly back to the car, unaware of a vehicle until it swerved in front of her. As the wheels spun on the gravel, the driver rolled down his window and yelled, “Watch out, you stupid woman!”

The car didn’t touch her, but disoriented by the action, Alyx fell on her knees. A station employee ran towards her and helped her up.

“Are you all right?”

Alyx brushed off her knees. “Yes, I think so. Did you see what happened?”

“Yes, I did. That car drove in slowly and picked up speed when it swerved in front of you. It looked to me like he did it on purpose.”

“Did you recognize the make of the car?” she asked.

“I’m sorry; I don’t know one from the other, and I didn’t even look at the tag. Do you want me to call the police?”

“No, there’s not much I can tell them other than it was a black sedan. I didn’t see the tag number either.”

After the incident, we drove directly to the police station in Beachside. A tall, skinny man with a potbelly and a few strands of dirty hair was telling an officer at the front desk about an altercation with his neighbor, a two-inch cut on his cheek still fresh but not bleeding.

The officer wrote down all the information about the man’s complaint on a form, and then took care of two people over the phone before he turned his attention to Alyx, thirty minutes later.

Busy filling out a log sheet, he didn’t even look up when he asked if he could help her.

“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

She skipped the small talk that usually accompanied her requests. “I’d like to speak to Detective Smarts.”

“He’s not in the station at the moment, ma’am.”

“He is on duty today?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Is there any way you can reach him?”

He looked at his watch. “Are you sure no one else can help you?”

She bit her lower lip. “I received a threating note, and someone just tried to run me over. I prefer to speak to Smarts, but, yes, someone else can help me.”

“Your name?”

“Alyx Hille and this involves the Althea Burns’ case.”

The officer looked up and smiled. After a discreet phone call, Detective Smarts appeared a few minutes later, a toothpick dangling from his mouth.

 
He scanned the note Alyx handed him, and the smirk on his face quickly disappeared. He made no comment about my presence, but asked her to follow him down the hall to an office no bigger than a closet. He slid behind the desk and asked her to have a seat in one of the two folding chairs facing him. I took up guard next to her. She told him everything. He listened without interruption.

“Is that all? You’ve told me everything?”

She nodded and looked down, her hand clasped tightly around my leash.

“Thank you, Ms. Hille. I know you don’t think much of my detective skills, but I assure you, we’ve been working on the case. Although we didn’t get any prints off the pill case you found, I did learn that Carole Berth’s husband takes nitroglycerine for angina.”

I wasn’t surprised to hear that.

“Ms. Hille, as far as I’m concerned, this case is now a priority, and if anything else happens … call nine-one-one, then call me immediately.” He pulled a business card from his pocket, “My cell phone number is on there.”

We left the station. I was feeling assured and I hope Alyx was too. When we arrived at the shop, Maggie got up from the couch when we walked into the workroom, and stepped forward to unhook my leash. “It’s about time you got back. I’ve been sitting here waiting and worrying,” she scolded.

“I thought you had plans outside the store today,” said Alyx.

“I did and I do. I expected you back sooner. What happened in Umatilla?”

Alyx closed the workroom door. “You were right to worry this time; someone tried to run me over at the train station. Actually, I think he was just trying to scare me,” she began and she ended with the visit to the police station.

“You did the right thing talking to Detective Smarts. I think you should stay at my place or I can stay with you, if you’d rather not leave the cats alone.”

“It’s okay, Maggie. If the guy in the car had really wanted to kill me, he wouldn’t have swerved to avoid me.”
           

“What about the nitro case you found?”

“Smarts said Carole’s husband takes nitroglycerine for angina, but there’s no proof the case I found belonged to him. I know you’re concerned, and it worried me too, but now that Smart knows everything, I think it will be okay.”

Maggie gave her a hug. “Promise you won’t go to Umatilla again.”

“I can definitely promise you that I will not make the trip again.”

“If you yell at a cat, you’re the one who making a fool of yourself.”

––
Unknown

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN:
An Apology of Sorts

Jim Husen, an antiques dealer whom Alyx had met a couple of years earlier at a Miles-Long-Garage-Sale event on A1A, stopped in to see her. He said he had a customer who collected globes, and he wondered if she happened to have any or knew anyone who did.

“As a matter of fact, I do have a globe,” she said, and directed him to the side of the store, near the staircase.

“It’s been here since we opened. I don’t know much about it, other than it’s from the 1930s, produced by the George F. Cram Company in Indianapolis.”

The globe she’d referred to was very decorative with Atlas holding up the globe between two columns.

“You know,” said Jim, “some of these can go for real good money. I heard about a tiny 1790s pocket globe that sold for fifteen-thousand dollars.”

I was impressed. Alyx’s globe probably wasn’t that valuable, but it still might draw nice sum. Of course, not all deals went that smoothly. Some dealers were greedier than others; they weren’t satisfied with just making a profit. They wanted to squeeze every last penny they could out of the deal. I knew that as far as Alyx was concerned, that took the fun out of it. Somehow, Antiques & Designs managed to prosper without gouging anyone in the process.

Alyx had another item sitting nearby that had not attracted any attention. It was a duck decoy. She asked Jim if he was interested, and told him all she knew about it.

“This and that globe were the first two items I purchased with the intent of selling them in my store someday,” she told him. “Anyway, the Mason Decoy Company in Detroit, Michigan––my home state––produced three grades of decoys––premium, challenge, and standard. The standard typically featured glass eyes, and a hand-painted solid body. This is a standard decoy, made around 1910. The last time I’d checked, it was valued at fifteen hundred dollars. I’ll negotiate if you find a buyer, and you’ll get the ten percent dealer discount.”

Jim picked up the decoy, turning it over in his hands to inspect it closer.

Suddenly, I felt her presence before I saw her. An elegantly dressed woman in a classic-style blue suit stood scrutinizing Alyx from top to bottom. She quickly looked away when Alyx turned in her direction.

“It looks like it’s in excellent condition,” said Jim about the decoy, “You should get full value for it. I’ll mention it to some people.”

“Great. Are you and Louise planning to go to the Williamsburg Antiques Forum in February?” Alyx asked him.

“We talked about it and think we might go. The theme this year is “The Arts of the American South” and that’s right up my alley. My wife is looking forward to helping prepare an authentic eighteen-century dinner, and I’m looking forward to eating it. What about you?”

“Maggie and I talked about it, but at the time she wasn’t interested. I love the place and its history and I don’t need a reason to go.”

“Well, if you decide to go, you’re welcome to come with Brenda and me. You know our RV is big enough to handle more than the two of us.”

She knew that to be true, as she and Maggie had gone on a trip with the Husens once before.

“Thanks, Jim. I’ll keep it in mind. Tell Brenda I found that recipe she asked me for, and I’ll give her a call soon.”

Alyx completed the transaction, Jim left, and she turned her attention to the woman who introduced herself as David Hunter’s ex-wife, Joann.

“David said I should apologize.”

“You’re here because David told you to? What are you making him do for this apology?”

“Nothing he doesn’t want to do,” she replied slyly.

“We’ll see about that,” Alyx said defiantly.

Joann’s pale blue eyes flashed to her face, her full lips stretched thin. “You’re not very gracious, are you? You’re nothing but a garbage picker.”

“Yes, that’s what I do, and I hope to do more of it,” replied Alyx. She made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t willing to give David up that easily.

After the door closed behind Joann Hunter, Alyx literally dropped into the nearest chair. Wanting to comfort her, I jumped on her lap and accidentally knocked over a small picture with a decorative inlaid top sitting on the side table. Both the table and the picture had come from Althea’s bedroom. Alyx had told Maggie that she kept the picture––a soft garden scene surrounded by a delicate gold frame––not so much for its value, but more because it reminded her of Althea.

The photo landed on its face, exposing a brown paper backing that had come unglued. Alyx picked it up and took it to the workroom, searched for glue to fix it. When she lifted the paper to re-glue it, something caught her eye––another photograph was behind the first––a smaller, black and white photograph of a young woman holding a baby.

Althea hadn’t forgotten her son.

About an hour later, Hunter walked through the door. His presence commanded our attention. Misty came to stand next to me and wanted to know what was going on. Hunter surveyed the room slowly, and quickened his step when Alyx came into view on the other side of the store.

“Alyx, I need to speak to you in private for a moment.”

“Did she come crying to you that I didn’t graciously accept her apology?” Alyx asked him.

He looked at her blankly. “I don’t know what you’re referring to, but you’ll want to hear what I have to tell you.”

“Joann,” said Alyx, “She came to apologize for harassing me. She said you told her she should.”

She turned and walked away. David followed, dodging furniture and cats in trying to keep up with her.

“I told her no such thing.”

Her dead stop caused a collision of cats, furniture, and humans.

He reached for her hand and she didn’t pull away. “I realized what she was doing after I spoke to you. I told her that she and I were finished, that I was ready to move on and I hoped she’d do the same.”

“Okay, then.”

A non-committal answer for sure, but apparently the only one he was going to get.

“Now can I speak to you in private?” he reiterated.

She nodded, “Let’s go to the workroom.”

“I know you’re seeing Jonathan Steele and there’s something you need to know about him.”

“How do you know that I’ve been seeing him?” she asked, rightfully suspicious. They sat at the table.

“How I know isn’t important. What’s important is what my source told me about him.”

She wasn’t listening anymore. “You’ve been following me?”

He didn’t answer. “Listen, Alyx. Jonathan Steele is Althea’s son.”

She leaned back in her chair, daring him to tell her something she didn’t know.

“I know that.”

“Did he tell you that he doesn’t have a penny to his name, and that he doesn’t actually own the store, that it’s owned by several people?”

Alyx was stunned. “The inventory is his, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “Most of it’s on consignment from overseas distributors; very little is his.”

“So what do you think this has to do with me?”

He stood and leaned over her desk. “I heard your store was broken into, and that only Althea’s furniture was disturbed. Could he have been looking for another will––one that left everything to him? He could use the money, and I bet his cousin Carole Berth isn’t willing to share.”

“You think he killed Althea?”

“Alyx, I care about you. I wanted to warn you, to tell you to be careful; that’s all.”

“Thank you, David.”

He left, and she sat at her desk, cradling her head.