Rock Harbor Search and Rescue (12 page)

“So, Greg,” Dad interrupted, “what have you been doing with yourself? Last we heard, you were doing some photography work.”

“Well, that didn’t pan out. So I’ve been doing a little of this, a little of that in the meantime.” He grinned and winked at Timmy.

“Well, if you put down roots, you could settle down. Stay out of trouble for good.” Grandma straightened her back.

Emily had never felt such tension. Well, except when Dad and Naomi talked about her mother when they thought Emily couldn’t hear.

“Mom, let him breathe. He just got to town today.” Naomi stood. “I’m going to wake Matthew from his nap.” She headed down the hallway.

Grandma shifted to see over Greg to Valerie. “Valerie, dear, what do you do?”

“Me?” Valerie laid her hand over her chest. “I’m a model.”

Greg threw his arm around Valerie’s shoulders. “Not just any model. She’s the new face for Surf’s Up bathing suit line.”

“I have several photo shoots set during the championship.” Valerie tossed her red hair over her shoulder.

Emily looked at Olivia and grinned.
Ha
. She’d caught that one. Olivia should be proud. But her best friend didn’t look proud. She looked like she had a secret that was ready to erupt. Emily stood. “Dad, can we go work on some jewelry before dinner.”

“Sure, go ahead. Our guests are staying for dinner, so you might need to help Naomi in a bit anyway.”

They’d barely made it into Emily’s room and shut the door before Olivia exploded. “Did you recognize her?”

“Valerie? As a model?” Emily set her backpack on the floor beside Olivia’s. “Not at first, but you know I’m not as into the whole fashion thing like you.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s her.”

Emily sank to the bed while Olivia paced. “Her who?” She grabbed her
Phantom of the Opera
throw pillow and pulled it against her chest.

Olivia sighed from behind clenched teeth. “The woman part of the couple.”

“I’m sorry, Liv, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Bouncing down onto the bed beside Emily, Olivia said, “The couple at the festival—who bought something from Mrs. Dancer’s booth during the time the necklace went missing. Valerie is the woman.”

“
That
woman?” This could be huge. Emily closed her eyes and went back to that day. Malia Spencer across the street . . . the man clearing his throat . . . she rushed to Mrs. Dancer’s table and sold the green fused glass necklace the woman held. Yes, it was Valerie.

Emily opened her eyes and tossed her pillow aside. She grabbed her notebook, then flipped it open to the page of her suspects. She scratched out
The Couple
and wrote
Valerie Syers
out beside it. “Who was the man Valerie was with at the festival? Can you remember what he looked like?”

“He was older than Valerie. I remember he had a lot of gray hair. More than either of our dads have.” Olivia shrugged. “He was about the same height as her. I don’t remember him being taller, do you?”

Emily shook her head. “Maybe her father?”

“He wasn’t that much older.”

“A brother?”

Olivia scrunched her nose. “I didn’t get that impression. I actually thought they were together. You know, together-together.”

“But she and Uncle Greg look like they’re together-together.” Oh, this was complicated. “Hey, don’t models have bodyguards or something with them?”

“I don’t know. Some do, I guess. He didn’t look bulky enough
to be a bodyguard, though.” Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. “How can we find out who he is, and who he is to her?”

Emily chewed the end of her pencil. “Maybe we could just ask her?”

“Right. ‘Hi, Valerie, we saw you at the festival this past weekend, and you were with a man you seemed chummy with. Who is he?’” Olivia shook her head. “I don’t see that happening. If she’s with-with your uncle, I don’t think she’d say she was dating someone else if that’s the truth.”

Good point. But there had to be something . . . “The necklace!”

“What about it?”

“If she’s wearing the necklace she bought of Mrs. Dancer’s, we can ask her about it and maybe figure out a way to work in who she was with.”

“Good idea.” Olivia frowned. “But what if she isn’t wearing it?”

Hmm. “Well, if she has on any jewelry, maybe I can figure out a way to bring up my jewelry, which will open the door to talk about the festival.”

“I guess it’s worth a try.”

Emily shut the notebook. At least it was something. “I think I’ll work on my jewelry. Grandma said she’d display some necklaces for me.” She began to pull out the boxes of beads. “I don’t feel like working on them, though.”

Olivia joined her. “Me neither. But you need to earn money for that puppy.”

NINE

“Amen.” Emily lifted her head from the prayer and elbowed Olivia.

Everyone passed bowls around the table, each spooning food onto their plate. The dining room smelled of onion from the stew Naomi had made. Emily’s mouth watered as she filled her bowl before passing it on to Olivia. She grabbed a semmel roll, steaming from the oven. She slathered butter across the middle—it melted immediately on the soft, yeasty bread.

Emily waited until conversations started around the table to check out Valerie’s neck. Okay, mainly she waited until Dad and Naomi were engrossed in a conversation with Uncle Greg. She had to lean almost as if whispering to Grandma to see around Valerie’s collar. Disappointment burned her throat when she spied only a dainty gold chain.

“Are you okay, dear?” Grandma asked.

Busted. “Uh.” Emily glanced at the brooch pinned on Grandma’s blouse. “I was just admiring your pin. It’s lovely.”

Grandma beamed. “Why, thank you, dear. Greg and Naomi’s father gave it to me many, many years ago.”

Emily looked at Valerie, who had turned to listen in. Here was an opportunity. Emily pushed on. “Don’t you think the brooch is lovely, Valerie?”

The model nodded. “It’s exquisite.” She peered closer. “Ivory?”

“Did you know that George Washington’s false teeth were made from ivory? Well, and human and cow teeth too,” Emily said.

The model’s smile became a grimace. Dad and Greg continued telling stories of their youth, making Naomi chuckle in between Matthew’s stunts for attention, completely ignoring the conversation at the other end of the dining table.

“Why, I do believe it
is
ivory.” Grandma smiled.

Emily recognized an opening when she saw it. Especially since Dad and Naomi were still otherwise occupied. “Valerie, as a model, I bet you know a lot about jewelry.”

“Oh, I suppose every girl takes an interest in jewelry.” She smiled a little too wide at Emily, and included Olivia as well. “Don’t you, girls?”

“I certainly do,” Olivia said, “but nothing like Emily. She makes jewelry, you know.”

Valerie smiled at Emily. “I had no idea. What kind of jewelry do you make?” She took a sip of her water.

“I make beaded and fused glass necklaces, bracelets, and earrings.” Emily sat up straighter and took in every movement of Valerie’s expression. “Mostly similar to Mary Dancer’s designs. Are you familiar with her work?”

It didn’t matter what she said aloud; her expression said loud and clear that she knew all about Mary Dancer’s designs. Valerie paused, licking her lips. “Yes, I believe I know her work.” She lifted her glass and took another sip of water. Slowly.

Emily waited. This was the perfect opportunity for Valerie to
mention the necklace that the man bought for her at the festival.
If
she had nothing to hide. But silence filled the air just as Valerie turned to join the others’ conversation.

“So, do you like Mary Dancer’s designs?”

“Her work is quite unique. I must see yours sometime.” Valerie smiled at Emily, but it looked more like a grimace than a real smile, despite her perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth.

“Actually, now that I think about it . . .” Emily tilted her head. Olivia nudged her, but Emily kept going. “I think I saw you this past weekend at Mary Dancer’s booth. At the Finnish festival downtown.”

Valerie sputtered her water, then coughed. The conversation at the other end of the table came to an abrupt halt.

Uncle Greg patted Valerie’s back. “Are you okay?”

Valerie cleared her throat. Her eyes watered. “I guess the water went down wrong.” She blinked rapidly, but her focus remained on Emily. “I’m fine.”

A heavy pause filled the dining room. Then Matthew plopped his cup back on the table, and it was as if everyone let out a long breath.

Valerie giggled. “Guess I should be more careful in my drinking.”

Uncle Greg grinned and pecked her cheek.

She knew she should just let it go, but Emily couldn’t. “So, as I was saying, I think I saw you at the festival this past weekend. I believe you purchased a necklace of Mary Dancer’s, right? You were with a friend?”

“Emily!” Dad’s tone trembled. “Stop it. We don’t interrogate our guests.” He threw her a glare before turning to Valerie. “Please excuse my daughter’s rudeness.”

Emily’s cheeks burned, as well as the back of her neck and her chest, and she ducked her head to hide the tears forming in her eyes. She wasn’t interrogating Valerie, only asking a legitimate question. A question Valerie was avoiding answering—which was suspicious. “But, Dad, I was just asking Valerie if she—”

“I said that’s enough, Emily.” The tips of Dad’s ears turned red, a surefire way to tell he was mad. Really mad. “Matter of fact, you’re excused to your room.”

The tears burned the backs of her eyes. Emily scooted back her chair and rose. She left her dishes on the table—something she was never to do—and rushed down the hall to her room before the tears fell and everybody saw them. That would just be the epicness of humiliation.

She flopped onto the bed. Staring up at the ceiling, she sniffled.
Why, God? Why is this happening to me? You know I
didn’t take the necklace. Why can’t you show Dad and the rest of
them that I had nothing to do with it?

Emily punched her pillow and flipped to her stomach. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t do anything wrong, but now she couldn’t even try to clear her name without getting in trouble. It was so wrong. So unfair.

How many times had Dad drilled into her head that life wasn’t always fair? Well, in this instance, it was
him
being unfair. If the sheriff wasn’t going to find out who the real thief was, someone had to. No one else seemed to care but her and Olivia. Everyone else seemed quite content to let her take the blame—even Naomi, who was usually pretty cool and understanding. No one was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt just because she was a kid.

It was totally unfair.

Volunteering to be a helper to the surf team might not have been the best idea Emily had ever had.

Emily stared at the hamper of wet towels, her heart in her toes. It’d take forever for her to finish the laundry. Coach had told her to wash the towels in the hamper, fold the ones in the dryer, then stack them neatly in the big duffel. He’d barely barked the orders before rushing out to have the surf team run laps to build up their stamina.

How was she supposed to learn anything here in the locker room when everybody else was outside at the track?