Cat of the Century (14 page)

Beat that, Flo thought to herself, reviewing what she thought of Mariah’s postgraduate work.

Flo could have warned Gayle of her findings, but the malicious delight in telling Jahnae Barnett first overcame her loyalty to a woman she truly admired. Not that she wanted to distress Jahnae, who had
transformed William Woods and continued to do so, turning a small, lovely, all-women’s college into a small coed university powerhouse. Recently, two graduates had signed Major League Baseball contracts. Nick Wooley went to the Kansas City Royals, and Josh Goodin joined the Baltimore Orioles. Flo just gloated over that, as did alumnae who didn’t give a jot for baseball.

She twirled a pencil around her fingers, then punched in the numbers.

“Kenda,” Flo said as she heard the familiar voice, “let me talk to the chief. I know why Mariah has vanished.”

“She’s in her office, but let me check if anyone is in there.”

“Fine.” Flo hummed to herself as she was on hold.

A click, then Kenda’s voice said, “Put you right through.”

“Hello, Flo. How are you?” Jahnae braced herself for what she suspected would be another blast against Mariah D’Angelo.

“I know why Mariah hotfooted it.”

“Yes.” Not a hint of nervousness.

“I’ve long wondered how my classmate could offer such spectacular deals through Fletcher, Maitland, and D’Angelo. For the last year I have investigated, at my own expense, the watches, diamonds, and pearls she carries. Well, the pearls—Mikimotos—and the diamonds are genuine. The discounts on diamonds and pearls are much less than those on watches—Baume and Mercier, Piaget, Rolex, and Jaeger-LeCoultre, to name a few. Naturally, I know many people, including many of our alumnae, who have patronized Mariah’s store. I hired a jeweler with impeccable credentials—one from Charlottesville, actually, Keller and George, as I knew that store was the one that inspired Big Mouth to go into jewelry. I was able to gather a group of alumnae here in St. Louis and ones in Louisville, Lexington, and Cincinnati. You’ll notice I didn’t reach out to anyone in Kansas City. Too close to home. Someone might tip her off.”

Jahnae interjected, “You told these people that their watches might be fakes to get them to meet with you?”

“No. Not exactly. I said there was a growing market for reconditioned secondhand watches and asked if they would want an appraisal.
A bit of a cheat, but they were getting the appraisal free. I paid for it. They didn’t.”

“And?” Jahnae didn’t like what she was hearing, but she was also unhappily amazed that Flo would go to such lengths.

“Most were not genuine. A few were.” A deeply satisfied silence followed this. “But I also paid the appraiser to lie about the value. I wanted to accuse her face-to-face. Petty, I know, but quite thrilling to see her turn puce!”

“I see.”

“I have all the documentation.”

“When did you confront Mariah?”

“I accused her to her face after our second board meeting. She hotly denied it, of course. Mariah knows, as I said, that the high-end watch brands jealously guard their reputations, not just for stellar work but for authenticity. The companies know there are fakes out there. They’re right to be vigilant. They would sue her ass into next week, excuse the French, and so would the customers she bilked.”

“How do you know she was behind it? It could have been her partners.”

“Well, Fletcher died in 1984, so it’s only Maitland, who is older than dirt. Sure, he could have been in on it for all this time, but our Mariah is a clever girl. If she wanted to keep the old fogey in the dark, I know she could.”

“What provoked you—wait, let me amend that. What led you to investigate the products?”

“When I went to buy Dick a watch for his fifty-seventh birthday last year, I called her store and got their prices, which were whispered to me by a clerk who said they were available only to William Woods graduates. I don’t believe that, but that’s neither here nor there. Then I checked Tourneau in New York, and I called Keller and George. Had a lovely chat with Bill, then Howard, both of the store. They told me what to look for initially.”

“Which is?”

“Weight. Most fakes are lighter than the genuine article. I had lunch with one of my friends who crowed about the great deal she got on a
Schaffhausen two years ago, and I asked if I could try on her watch. She’s one of our social leaders, and her signature, if you will, is to wear a man’s Schaffhausen and a beautiful silk scarf. I tried it on and it was light. Also, the crystal isn’t good on a fake. For instance, the crystal on a Rolex Submariner is thick but quite clear. Crystal isn’t cheap, so you’ll get more distortion in a fake.”

“And have you informed the alumnae whose watches were appraised?”

“Bill, the appraiser, told each individual he would write up the resale value—high and low, since there’s always a fluctuation—and mail them the results. He lied, as I told you, giving them a higher value than their true value. Nor did he identify which were fake. He will mail out the appraisals the Friday after our alumnae meeting. I’m sure most of them will arrive at their destinations once mail service resumes.”

Jahnae was quiet for a moment, then switched gears. “And I assume she will be voted off the board at the summer meeting? You will make that motion?”

“Of course.” Flo glowed inside.

“As I recall, one of the founding principles of our great nation is innocent until proven guilty. If you offer up your findings to the Kansas City police, that’s one course of action. But someone will sue her. She will have her day in court. You only know the products are inauthentic. You don’t know that Mariah is behind it.” Jahnae felt supremely uneasy. Flo’s gloating made Mariah’s absence all the more sinister.

“Jahnae, she had to know. If I can now spot a fake, so can she. She’s made a fortune charging thousands and thousands for reasonably good fakes. Why else would she go on the lam?”

“I don’t know, but I repeat,” Jahnae’s voice had a cool note, “innocent until proven guilty.”

Flo, quick to hear the drop in vocal temperature, countered, “You’re upset. You have every reason to be upset. A graduate is a crook. That won’t reflect well upon the school we both love.”

“Compared to Harvard and Yale, our criminal output is thankfully low. I don’t think the bad apples that have graduated from those two universities or any other have dimmed admissions.”

“Uh, yes.”

“Thank you for informing me, Flo. This is deeply disturbing news. Good-bye.”

What truly disturbed Jahnae was that Flo relentlessly worked to destroy Mariah over what seemed to Jahnae a petty personality conflict that had started when they were freshmen. Then she remembered that both had been in love with Dick Langston. She sighed deeply. When sex and love entered the mix, brains flew right out the window.

She wasn’t a drinking woman, but at that moment the slightly numbing effects of a cocktail held an allure. She quickly dismissed the thought and called Inez instead.

Inez was appalled and furious, because she’d spoken to Flo just before Flo’s call to Jahnae. Not a word.

Inez then said, “I guess she wanted to start at the top.”

“The problem is, Inez,” Jahnae drew a deep breath, “who else is going to hear her crow?”

Liz Filmore, for one, and she hung up her phone, shaken.

T
he weather remained cold but clear on Wednesday, April 1. Even the sky was icy blue.

“Come on, Tomahawk, pick up your foot.” Harry bent over and picked up the old Thoroughbred’s hind hoof.

Inez, visiting Harry, chuckled at Tomahawk’s intransigence then leaned over to look at the hoof. “Good.”

“He’s a tough boy. He can even be cooperative.”

“Are you finished with my hoof?”
Tomahawk was not feeling cooperative.

Tucker, sitting in the center aisle, advised,
“Just do what she wants. In the long run, it’s easier.”

The two cats had chosen to remain in the tack room/office, where it was warmer.

“Sure you don’t want to go into the tack room?” Harry worried about Inez in the sharp cold.

“In a minute. I miss practicing. I never really wanted to retire, but there’s a point where a horse leans over on you and you can’t help but fall over.” She smiled. “So now I check X rays if Blanca asks. Stuff like that.”

She mentioned Blanca Drabek, D.V.M., who rented her clinic.

Harry put down Tomahawk’s hind hoof and looked directly at Inez. “I don’t know if I’ll take it with as much good grace as you have when I have to take a backseat. Farming is hard physical labor.”

“Harry, you’ll do what you have to do, and you have too much sense to become bitter or bitchy.”

“Thanks.”

Inez’s cell phone rang.

She fished it out of her front parka pocket. “Hello, Flo.”

She wondered how she’d ever lived without caller ID.

“Inez, I apologize for not telling you about the scandal involving Mariah’s business. I felt the president had to hear it first.”

“Wait a minute. I’m in Harry’s center aisle in the barn.” Inez walked to the tack room, opened the door, and gratefully sank into the desk chair.

“I suppose she did, but it seemed a little shifty, Flo. I’m disappointed in you.”

“I should think you’d be disappointed in Mariah.” Flo’s voice rose.

“I am. Desperately, desperately disappointed.”

“Pete blames me. He swears he knows nothing. Of course he knew about the scam. He’s been married to her for over twenty-five years!”

“Flo, how do you know that? You and Pete aren’t on conversational, friendly terms any more than you were with Mariah.”

“He called me to cuss me out.” Flo flicked a cigarette ash into her large crystal ashtray on her desk. “He also says money is tight in her business, less in his, but they have huge expenses. Says I’m a nosy bitch.”

Inez sighed, then added, “Flo, I’m staying with Tally, but I’m at Fair’s a lot or in the truck, visiting cases. If it’s an emergency, call on my cell. I’m not going home for a while.” She paused. “You hated Mariah. I know that, but, Flo, your delight in uncovering her possible criminal behavior upsets me.”

“Inez, you want someone on the board who cheats people? What’s wrong with you? I did the right thing.”

“You did the right thing for you.” Inez pressed the end button on her cell.

Inez zipped up her parka, went back into the aisle, and noticed Simon, the opossum, peering over the side of the hayloft. “Harry—varmint.” She pointed up.

“Oh, that’s Simon. He’s a little shy, but he wants his molasses and maple-syrup icicles. I make them for him.”

Inez gave Harry the details of Flo’s call.

“It’s ugly no matter how you look at it.” Harry shook her head. “I’m pretty much done. I’ll carry you over to Tally’s. First let me climb into the hayloft and give these treats to Simon.”

Inez put her hand on her hip. “You spoil your animals.”

“And you don’t?”

Within fifteen minutes they all piled into the Volvo. While the three animals gossiped in the back, Harry carefully negotiated the treacherous roads. The intense cold meant that where there was runoff, there was also black ice, which could land you in a ditch faster than you could blink.

Rose Hill, as the crow flies, was maybe two miles away, but by road it was more like four.

Once at the lovely old house, Inez knocked, then opened the door.

Without greeting as she came down the hall, Aunt Tally simply said, “Now what?”

Inez repeated Flo’s call as the three ladies settled in to the cozy den, where the fire was roaring. The animals played with Doodles, who had been right at the front door when they came in.

Hot tea and small sandwiches fueled their chat.

Inez sipped the delicious tea, warming from the inside out. “Tally, it’s all so petty.”

“Some people hold grudges all their lives. I figure that’s the glue to hold together a weak, cracked personality. Although if Mariah did bilk her customers, which it appears she has, that’s no laughing matter.”

Harry grinned mischievously. “A sex scandal would be much more interesting than a watch scandal.”

“Righto.” Aunt Tally held up her tea, spiced with fresh lemon and a dot of gin. “And no one has heard a peep from Mariah. No one has seen her or thought they have. She could be dead.”

“I hope not.” Inez shook her head.

“If Mariah is as guilty as Flo swears she is, maybe Mariah committed suicide. It’s the only honorable way out.”

Mrs. Murphy and Pewter, tiring of the boisterous dogs, had joined the women.

“Catnip,”
Pewter said rather loudly.

“Aunt Tally doesn’t have catnip. She just has her Gordon setter.”
Mrs. Murphy wished Pewter hadn’t mentioned catnip, for now she wanted some.

“No. I mean this is about human catnip.”
Pewter expanded on her theme.

“Sex. Love or money. That’s their catnip.”
Mrs. Murphy agreed with the gray cat.

Inez, meanwhile, bore down on Aunt Tally. “Do you read your investment reports?”

“No.”

“Oh, Tally, I told you to take an interest in the money when we were students. You never listen.”

“Why? It rolled in. That’s Scott and Stringfellow’s job, not mine. Anyway, why are you bringing this up? You know the answer.”