Killer Keepsakes (26 page)
I nodded. I had what I needed to help them find closure and move on. “You need to tell the police,” I said. “Rocky Point
and
Denver.”
Lina looked at me for a long time, then sighed. “I know.”
I looked at Gretchen. “I’ll call Max and Shirl. They’ll know what to do.”
Her radiant green eyes were moist. “Then it really will be over.”
EPILOGUE
TWO WEEKS LATER
W
es sipped Coke and scribbled notes as I spoke. He was writing a feature article called “Starting Over: From Murder in the Mountains to Life on the Beach.” He planned on pitching it to national women’s magazines. We’d been at the Portsmouth Diner for almost an hour.
The waitress came over and refilled my coffee cup. “Here you go, dear,” she said.
I glanced out the window. It was another gray day, misty but warm. Window boxes filled with daffodils gave mute promise to an abundant spring.
“So you’re saying that Max Bixby, Gretchen’s lawyer, and Shirl Sheriden, Lina’s lawyer, wrote a joint statement for them,” Wes asked, “but it only went up to the day Morgan Boulanger was killed? Then they issued separate statements covering the rest. Why?”
“Because their stories were no longer in alignment. Lina described killing Morgan in self-defense, then covering it up because she was terrified that his brother would do exactly what he did—come after them. All she could think of was staying safe and protecting her friend.”
“Gretchen’s story lends credence to the idea that Lina’s fear was warranted?”
“Does it ever. It isn’t just her word, either—remember, there were lots of domestic violence calls to the Denver police. Morgan was charged with assaulting Gretchen a couple of times. When Morgan realized Gretchen and Lina had deserted him after he killed Amelia Bartlett, he went straight to his brother, who helped him get the fake ID in the name of Sal Briscoe. He got himself one, too, as Chip Davidson, just in case. Morgan, as Sal, had settled in Tennessee, and that would have been that except that he happened to see the magazine
Antiques Insights.
”
Wes nodded. “Now both girls are getting off?”
“Wes, you have a way of putting the worst possible construction on things!” I protested. “They’re not ‘getting off!’ That implies that they’re getting away with something. They didn’t do anything they should be indicted for! There’s a difference!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Gretchen and Lina say they’re happier in New Hampshire than they’ve ever been, and they both want to keep using their adopted names. Their lawyers are checking into it.” I paused. “Gretchen got a promotion, you know?”
“That’ll be great in the article,” Wes said, unfolding his paper and jotting another note. “What’s her new title?”
“Administrative manager. Cara’s going to stay on as receptionist.”
“Cool. What else?”
What else?
I repeated silently, thinking back over the past two weeks. Gretchen spoke at length to Sam Bartlett, and they agreed to stay in close touch. When I told her that we estimated her vase’s value at more than six hundred thousand dollars, she glowed but said it didn’t really matter since she’d never in a million years sell it. Sasha was writing the text for an upcoming auction catalogue. Fred was still deep in half-dolls. I had approved a request from Eric for new shelving for the tag sale room. New track lighting had been installed in the auction venue and Gretchen couldn’t speak Jack’s name without glowing.
“Gretchen put her condo up for sale,” I said. “The management company was pretty decent about helping her get into a different complex.”
“Life goes on, huh? Did you hear about Vince and Mandy?” he asked, folding up his paper again. “Vince copped a plea. The property owner he worked for didn’t want the negative publicity, so he refused to press charges. The deal says that Vince makes restitution and gets an extra three years’ probation—and he gets permission to move to Vegas. They left yesterday.”
Oh, Mandy,
I thought.
Oh, no.
I looked away, focusing on the daffodils, and swallowed hard.
“Thanks, Josie,” Wes said, buttoning his coat, preparing to leave.
I hoped his article sold.
“What do you think?” I asked Ty, spinning around so he could see the flare of my cotton skirt. I struck a pose and swept a hand toward my green alligator cowboy boots.
“You look great.”
“These are my favorite boots. My dancin’ boots.”
“You’re a dancing machine,” Ty said.
“Only when line dancing.”
“How does a city girl like you become a line-dancing fanatic?”
“Would you call me a fanatic?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe I’m not such a city girl.”
Ty approached me and used his index finger to raise my chin. He smiled down at me, a smile that radiated from his eyes. He hugged me and whispered, “Just so long as you’re my girl.”
I hugged him back, and hugged him again, and then I said, “Done.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
S
pecial thanks go to Leslie Hindman, who, with her team at Leslie Hindman Auctioneers, continues to appraise antiques for me to write about. Thanks also go to Kevin Berean for his answers to legal questions and Julie Pietsch for her information about Henrietta Howard. I’m also grateful to Colum McLoughlin who talked to me about liars in business. Please note that any errors are mine alone.
As the president of the Mystery Writers of America/New York Chapter and the chair of the Wolfe Pack’s literary awards, I’ve been fortunate to meet and work alongside dozens of talented writers and dedicated readers. Thank you all for your support. For my pals in the Wolfe Pack and fans of Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe stories everywhere, I’ve added my usual allotment of Wolfe trivia to this book.
Thank you to Jo-Ann Maude, Christine de los Reyes, and Carol Novak. Special thanks to Katie Longhurst, my eagle-eyed first reader. Thank you also to Dan and Linda Chessman, Marci and James Gleason, John and Mona Gleason, Linda and Ren Plastina, Rona and Ken Foster, Sandy Baggelaar, Karen Roy, and Liz Weiner.
Independent booksellers have been invaluable in helping me introduce Josie to their customers—thank you all. I want to acknowledge my special friends at these terrific Independent bookstores: The Poisoned Pen, Well Red Coyote, Mysteries to Die For, Book’em Mysteries, Mystery Bookstore, Legends, Book Carnival, Mysterious Galaxy, San Francisco Mystery Bookstore, M is for Mystery, Murder by the Book in Houston, Murder by the Book in Denver, and Murder by the Book in Portland, Remember the Alibi Mystery Bookstore, Centuries & Sleuths, Fox Tale Books, Kate’s Mystery Books, Mystery Lovers Bookshop, The Mystery Company, The Mysterious Bookshop, Partners & Crime, Booked for Murder, Aunt Agatha’s, Foul Play, Windows a bookshop, Uncle Edgar’s Mystery Bookstore, Seattle Mystery Bookstore, Centuries and Sleuths, and Once Upon a Crime. Thanks also to Janet Rudolph and Linda Landigran.
For the acknowledgment page of
Antiques to Die For
, I wrote that Manhattan’s Black Orchid Bookstore would be sorely missed; it is. I will always be grateful to Bonnie Claeson and Joe Guglielmelli.
Many chain bookstores have been incredibly supportive as well—thank you to those many booksellers who’ve gone out of their way to become familiar with Josie. Special thanks go to my friend Dianne Defonce at the Border’s in Fairfield, Connecticut.
Special thanks to my librarian friends Doris Ann Norris, Mary Callahan Boone, Kristi Calhoun Belesca, Frances Mendelsohn, Mary Russell, Denise van Zanten, Heidi Fowler, Deborah Hirsch, and Heather Caines.
I am deeply grateful for the unerring guidance and acumen provided by my literary agent emerita, Denise Marcil, and my superb new literary agent, Cristina Concepcion of Don Congdon Associates, Inc. Special thanks go to Michael Congdon, Katie Kotchman, and Katie Grimm.
My editor, St. Martin’s executive editor Hope Dellon, provided wise and discerning feedback about the manuscript, helping Josie grow as a character—and me mature as an author. I’m indebted to her, and to the entire St. Martin’s team. Thank you to those I work with most often, Andy Martin, Hector DeJean, Talia Ross, and Laura Bourgeois, as well as those behind the scenes, including my production editor, Robert Berkel, copy editor, India Cooper, and cover designer, David Baldeosingh Rotstein.
Killer KeepsakesCOVER
TITLE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
AUTHOR’S NOTE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Table of Contents
