Miz Scarlet and the Vanishing Visitor (A Scarlet Wilson Mystery) (14 page)

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing,
figuring that if she wanted to talk, I would listen. I sat in the
long silence while the girl studied that face in the photograph. At
last, she sighed and stood up.

“Might as well find out what’s going on,” she
decided. So calm, so collected. Did that mean she was glad to
finally find her long-lost relatives?

“Would you like to wait for Captain Peacock? He seems
to have all the answers.”

“No. He can tell me later. I just want to show them
this.”

“Whatever you say, Jenny.” It had to be her decision.
It wasn’t my place to interfere with such an important matter of
the heart. We made our way to the staircase and I let the teenager
lead the way.

“I can’t believe I have a family.” That was said with
wonder. It didn’t seem to matter that Tony and Maria showed up now,
out of the blue. Jenny, stunned though she was, was already feeling
connected to these strangers.

“I just want you to know one thing, kiddo. Whatever
happens, we’ll always be here for you.”

“Oh, Miz Scarlet,” the teenager cried, wrapping her
arms around my shoulders as we came out of the landing of the
second floor, “you’re the best.”

Everyone assembled in the living room gazed up when
we returned. I saw Kenny across the room, his eyes concerned. I
gave him a slight smile in return.

Jenny rushed up to Maria and handed her the treasure
from her past. The fingers that took it from her seemed to shake
slightly.

“My father, Jimmy,” said the teenager.

The moment her grandmother recognized the subject in
the photo, unbidden tears sprang forth and trickled down her
cheeks. Her hand went involuntarily to her mouth, to stifle a small
gasp.

“Jaime!”

Tony crossed the distance in three long strides and
peered over his wife’s shoulder. A moment later, he was overcome
with emotion, unable to speak. When Jenny saw these two adults
speechless, it seemed to awaken a protective feeling in her.

“Would you like some water?” she wondered.

“Yes, please,” Maria replied, hand at her throat,
staring hungrily at the image of her long-dead child in Boston, an
image from the life he hadn’t been able to share with his parents.
Jenny poured from the pitcher on the bar table, adding an ice
cube.

“Come on,” Kenny urged me. “Let’s give them a few
minutes to find themselves. What’s for dinner?”

“What’s for dinner?” I wiped away the tears that had
welled up in my eyes as I watched that poignant scene.

“Yes, Miz Scarlet. I’m starved.”

Kenny and I worked side by side in the kitchen. We
could hear the chatter coming from the living room. I pulled the
lasagna out of the oven to let it rest a few minutes. The tossed
salads were arranged at each place setting in the dining room just
as the doorbell rang. Myrtle and Willow had arrived.

We kept the conversation light as we ate dinner,
talking about birds, gardens, and the weather. By the time we were
ready for banana cream pie and coffee, we felt like old
friends.

“Bur, help me with the clean-up. Jenny and her
grandparents are going to have a talk in the library,” I informed
my brother. The Googins girls, including Cousin Myrtle, retired to
the living room for aperitifs. Willow pitched in with the dinner
dishes. She and I caught up on the local news while Bur fetched us
a couple more glasses of Shiraz in between clearing the table.

Mozzie was restless, missing his mistress, so Willow
took the dog out of his crate and checked his wounds, to make sure
the ointment was doing its job. I grabbed Huckleberry and January
for a quick walk. We headed out for a loop around the neighborhood
on the sidewalk in front of the house. Kenny caught up with me by
the Taylor house.

“Hey,” he smiled, planting a kiss on my lips. “I
missed you.”

“Me, too.”

“I thought I’d catch you up on developments. Bobby
has been returned to the State of New Jersey. He took a plea
deal.”

“What?” Appalled, I pulled away to study Kenny in the
faint glow of the streetlights.

“It turns out that the supposed abuse of the dog was
the result of a really bad grooming technique. Mozzie lost part of
his ear when the boys decided to shave the dog, and the long hair
on the ear got caught in the shaver.”

“But the cuts....”

“Same deal. Mozzie’s hair got tangled, so they
accidentally gouged him trying to get the shaver free.”

“I’d still like to throttle the little bastards!” I
growled. “Of all the dumb ass things....”

“I know, I know. Look at it this way, Miz Scarlet.
Bobby’s father used to be a DA in Ohio before he switched sides and
went to bat for white collar criminals. When he heard what his son
was involved in, he arranged a solid plea deal for the kid that was
based on his full cooperation. It turns out the kid was seventeen
at the time it all happened, so he was still a juvie. Bobby is
sharing his tale with the New Jersey State Police as we speak.
They’ll round up the jewel thieves and curtail their little gift
basket business. It looks like, collectively, they’ve stolen more
than $2.4 million in cut and uncut stones.”

“That’s a lot of organic soap,” I commented. Kenny
squeezed my hand and laughed.

“It sure is. And no one would have ever known if
Jenny hadn’t grabbed those five bars.”

“You’re not condoning what she did, I hope.”

“No, I’m saying that it’s funny how things work out
sometimes. You can’t always predict how the bad guys are going to
fall, or even if they will.”

“But why that house in Bay Head? Who is Hinson,
anyway?”

“The cops are still trying to figure that out. Hinson
only seemed to exist on paper.”

“Like he was made up as the fall guy?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Well, Jenny said that house was completely gutted. I
know a lot of real estate on the Jersey Shore was damaged by
Hurricane Sandy. What if the jewel heists were part of somebody’s
plan to rebuild the family manse?”

“Or to finance one by finding the capital to renovate
a distressed property.”

“Maybe the money from the jewels is
helping to pay for the reconstruction
and
the purchase, Kenny.”

“The old ‘double dip’ game? Could be. If Hinson flips
the property to a new buyer, folks will assume he did the work on
speculation, for total profit. That would explain his interest in
investing in the house, to make money.”

“Was Richie involved in the building trades?” Don’t
ask me why, but that question popped into my head. “Maybe the gang
was taking advantage of the opportunity to get a foot in the Bay
Head door, and they needed lots of financial backing to get it
done. Most of those homes are selling for over a million dollars,
aren’t they?”

“Even after the storm. You might be right, Scarlet.
If that’s the case, the gang is more local than we thought. They
might even be from Point Pleasant, or Brick, or even....”

“There would still have to be someone who was
knowledgeable about jewels, though, like the assistant manager who
wound up dead at Rikers,” I said aloud, more to myself than Captain
Peacock. “What kind of information would non-professionals need in
order to know how to successfully rob jewelry stores of loose
stones?”

“That’s just it, Miz Scarlet. They only want loose,
unmarked stones, and they only want them because they’re an easy
commodity to sell.”

“So, what if the inside man not only tipped them to
the availability of the stones, but he bought them back for his
store in small quantities? If he’s dead now, what will the gang do?
Won’t they need a new fence?”

“Probably. That could be a big monkey wrench to gum
up the works, and maybe a motive for Richie’s murder. If the gang
has to take on another partner, it cuts into their profit
margin.”

Kenny and I turned around and headed back, a sure
signal to Huck and January that it would soon be treat time. The
little tails were wagging as the dogs trotted towards their
destination.

“If the soap is tucked away in gift baskets, it means
the thieves hold onto the soap until it’s time to send it to the
buyer, right?”

“Right. My guess is they’re stored on the shelves as
they wait for the opportunity to sell the jewels openly. The buyer
would have to create records that suggest the stones were
legitimately purchased. That might explain the need to go slowly,
so as to not arouse suspicion.”

“But if the mastermind was sending out gift baskets
on a regular basis as part of the cover, he or she would need a
legitimate reason to have them around.”

“A corporate gift business for clients? The baskets
are packaged, but when it’s time to send them out, the mastermind
removes the loaded soap and substitutes another bar?”

“It would just be a matter of knowing which baskets
have the jewels, so the wrong clients don’t wind up with unexpected
pirate booty.”

“But they’d probably use the same supplier to make up
the gift baskets, to avoid suspicion.”

“And the supplier of the gift baskets might be one of
the gang member’s relatives. A wife, a girlfriend, or even a
mother...someone with a legitimate business and a routine of
shipping packages. It might even be a home-based business.”

“Interesting theory, Miz Scarlet, but at this point,
it’s all speculation.”

“How do we prove it?” I asked him, already prepared
to visit every gift shop on the Jersey Shore in search of the
potential leads.

“I’m sorry. Did you say, ‘How do we prove it?’,
because I’m pretty sure....”

“Oh, don’t be such a killjoy, Kenny! You’re worse
than Larry! Do you believe she wouldn’t let me go up to White Oak
Hill with Jenny?”

“I do!” His lips brushed my ear and I felt his hot
breath against my skin. “I love that you’re feisty, but I prefer my
heroines alive, Miz Scarlet. No more sleuthing for you! I don’t
want the jewel thieves to decide you need killing.”

“You’re no fun!” I grumbled. Even as I said that, I
decided I would not be stopped from delving into this mystery.
After all, I’m a smart woman. I should be able to locate a gift
basket business on the Jersey Shore that shipped organic products,
shouldn’t I? And what harm could there be in providing the New
Jersey State Police with a list of potential suspects? The sooner
this business was over, the easier it would be to stop worrying
about Jenny being a target. I said as much to Kenny.

“Oh, I don’t think she’s much of a target, Scar. Not
at this point, anyway. Bobby’s rolling over on the guy who hired
him....”

“But someone murdered Richie,” I reminded him, “and
dumped his body at sea.”

“Maybe it had nothing to do with what happened at the
Hinson house.”

“Yeah, right. Or maybe it had
everything
to do with what
happened at the Hinson house.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe it’s because that girl stole
five bars of organic soap. She said something about Paolo claiming
it had healing powers.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.” We paused on the
sidewalk in front of the Four Acorns Inn.

“I know. I’m trying to remember what she told me when
I asked her. Something about Paolo saying the soap cleanses the
aura. Jenny was desperate to change her life and the soap was
supposed to purify her. That sounds rather mystical, doesn’t
it?”

“Crystals for healing. That would be good cover for
jewel thefts. Most investigators would focus on traditional
jewelers, not the fortune-telling variety,” Kenny pointed out. “Is
there such a thing as organic jewelry?”

“More like spiritual healing, I should think.” That
spurred another wild idea and I let it gallop out into the open.
“What if the gang has a reason to buy that home in Bay Head? What
if they’re trying to get in with the moneyed crowd? Don’t a lot of
property owners in town come from wealthy families?”

“Sure. Old money, new money.”

“Paolo sounds like someone working the carnie crowd,
doesn’t he? Part fortune teller, part con artist.”

“He could be the guy drumming up business with the
rich ladies,” he replied, opening the front door for me. “It will
be interesting to see what Sarge makes of all this.”

“You’re going to just leave it for Sarge?” I was
aghast. After all, this was more intriguing than ever. “Where’s
your sense of adventure, Captain Peacock?”

“I checked on the way out of Princeton University,
Miz Scarlet,” he teased. “I’m a civilian now.”

“Brother!”

“You called?” Leave it to Colonel
Grey Poupon to show up at just that moment.
Curses. Foiled again.

Chapter Fourteen --

Jenny was already upstairs with Mozzie when I finally
left the library and my stubborn boyfriend just after eleven. She
sat on her bed, pillows piled up behind her and dog snoozing in her
lap. And in the chair beside the bed was Maria.

“Not everything has to be organic. If there’s a shell
that is shed, if the fruit inside is protected, you don’t ingest
pesticides or insecticides,” the grandmother explained to her
curious granddaughter.

“But isn’t it better not to use anything at all and
keep it natural?”

“We have orange and lemon trees on our property. I
often cook with the zest of these fruits, so we don’t like to spray
them with harsh chemicals. Usually, we use a horticultural oil
spray to protect the trees from aphids, mites, and mealybugs. It
also controls powdery mildew and grease spot. But even safe
products have their drawbacks. You can’t spray the blossoms or you
risk losing the whole crop of citrus fruit.”

I interrupted them to say a quick good night and
excused myself, leaving them to their conversation. Would it really
work out for the teenager, or was this just some honeymoon and
she’d eventually come crashing down to earth with a big thud? I
found myself anxious on her behalf, wanting to believe this could
have a happy ending after so much misery. The Martinez family
wanted Jenny to join them at the holidays. They seemed like people
who enjoyed celebrating. Maybe if Thanksgiving went well, she could
fly out to California for a Christmas visit. I’d start putting away
a little money each week for her travel fund, just so she wouldn’t
have to completely depend on them for all of her expenses. That
way, she could choose whether or not to love them, instead of
feeling desperate that they were her only lifeline.