This Old Homicide (11 page)

“Then just say yes and we can close the deal right now.”

“Why don’t I stop by your shop next week and we can discuss it again?”

He scowled so intensely that his dark, bushy eyebrows had to be blocking his vision. “Don’t wait too long, missy,” he warned. “I’m in the mood to do business now and I won’t be played for a fool.”

“And I won’t be bullied. Thank you for your advice,” Jane said graciously. “Good-bye, Mr. Clemens.”

“He must’ve sold it,” Jane said. She had her eyes closed as she tried to rest on the comfortable couch in my living room.

After the party, we had escaped back to my house for a restorative glass of wine and a snack. All of the girls had gone home except for Emily, who had remained at the Inn on Main Street to help her team with the cleanup.

Upon hearing Cuckoo’s claim, Jane and I were obsessed with the possibility that Jesse might’ve actually found treasure in the sunken clipper ship, just as he’d once claimed.

I spread a dollop of Brie onto a cracker and took a bite. “That would explain why Jesse was searching the place like a madman.”

Jane opened her eyes. “I can’t believe he’d forget where he put it.”

“I can’t, either. He was forgetful sometimes, but that doesn’t mean he was getting senile.”

“He did get a little confused once in a while,” Jane admitted.

“I know. A few times lately he called me Jane.”

“Oh.” Her lower lip trembled. “That’s sad.”

“No, no,” I said quickly. “I think it was more to do with being preoccupied than actually losing his memory. And he would laugh about it with me. I mean, you and I are both tall, but that’s where the similarity ends. You’re blond and beautiful, while I’m—”

“Redheaded and gorgeous,” she finished. “Plus, you have the best arms of anyone on the planet. I wish I could get my arms to look like yours.”

I grinned. “You could come work on my crew.”

“I guess swinging a hammer all day is one way to get there.” With a sigh, she returned to the subject of Jesse. “But no, Jesse wasn’t getting any younger.”

She picked up her wineglass from the coffee table. “I still don’t think he would tear up his own house like that.”

I thought about the mess I’d walked through. “I don’t, either.”

Jane scowled. “If it’s true that the necklace exists, I hate that we had to find out about it from Cuckoo Clemens.”

“He’s so rude, isn’t he? And a little scary, too.” I shivered, remembering how he got right in my face.

“I don’t want to think about him right now,” Jane said, waving his image away as she closed her eyes again.

Something occurred to me. “Do you think Cuckoo could’ve been the one who was tearing Jesse’s house apart?”

Jane’s eyes popped open. “Oh my God, Shannon. Yes. Why else would he approach me like that if he wasn’t anxious to get his hands on that necklace?”

“If it was him, he obviously didn’t find it. Otherwise he wouldn’t have tried to buy it from you.”

“Wait.” Jane pressed her hand to her lips. “What if he threatened Jesse?”

“Let’s take our time and think this through.” I sipped my wine and mentally went over everything that had happened recently. “Suppose Jesse really did find the necklace while scuba diving. The first thing he would do is try to sell it, right?”

“Wouldn’t that get him into trouble? Aren’t there salvage laws involved?”

“I don’t know.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m trying to remember our sixth grade history class.”

In our local schools, every child learned the history of Lighthouse Cove and the
Glorious Maiden
, the clipper ship that sank off the coast in 1839.

The fast sailing ship had made regular round-trip runs from British Columbia down to San Francisco, and while it was purported to carry tea and textiles, its main cargo was often opium. They also transported wealthy travelers along with their money, jewelry, and other valuables. Legend had it that a Spanish princess and her royal entourage were passengers on board that fateful night, and when the ship sank, the princess and all her jewels were lost at sea.

Allegedly.

In the aftermath, a number of gold coins washed up onshore, bringing an onslaught of treasure hunters to town. After a time, the gold fever died down, but every once in a while, another gold coin would show up and another wave of treasure seekers would inundate the area.

Pawnshops and curio shops cropped up around town to provide seekers with a place to trade their worldly goods for cash to last them another few months while they tried to hunt for more treasure. But except for the occasional gold coin, no fancy jewels were ever found.

A few of the shops were still in business, though, and one of them was owned by Cuckoo Clemens.

Two local scuba diving shops and a company that specialized in geocaching, or treasure hunting, continued to thrive as well. The lure of finding treasure was no longer the draw, of course. Now our bay was simply a popular diving spot for the fun of exploring a nineteenth-century sailing ship.

But none of that information answered Jane’s question about salvage rights.

“I’m no expert in maritime law,” I admitted. “But if the legend is true and a Spanish princess really did die on that ship and Jesse found her necklace, I imagine it would rightly belong to Spain.”

She opened her eyes and sat up. “Maybe Jesse did the right thing and contacted the Spanish embassy.”

I thought it through. “I doubt it.”

“Me, too.” She smiled ruefully. “Jesse wasn’t exactly the type to follow through on the kind of complicated paperwork that would entail. He might’ve planned to do it, but whether he ever got around to it…”

“Right,” I said. “So maybe in the beginning he just wanted it appraised and figured Cuckoo’s shop was as good as any to get it done. Once Cuckoo turned him down, maybe he sold it somewhere else. Or not.”

“It’s too complicated,” Jane said, reaching for her wineglass.

“My mind is spinning with several theories.”

“Do share.”

“What if Cuckoo kept offering to buy the necklace, but Jesse always said no? But then, just recently, Cuckoo offered him money again, and Jesse told him that he was planning to give the necklace to Althea?”

Jane stared at me for a long moment. “Oh, that’s good. Althea’s presence could’ve changed everything. Cuckoo realized he was running out of time to get his hands on that necklace.”

“He grew desperate,” I speculated.

“Cuckoo went cuckoo.”

I laughed. “It’s all ridiculously hypothetical, of course. First of all, Jesse wouldn’t give a priceless treasure to a woman he just met a few months ago.”

“I hope not,” Jane muttered.

“It’s more likely that he went ahead and sold the necklace to another antique dealer a few years ago and that was the end of it.”

“So why was his house torn apart?”

I frowned. She had a point. “Good question.”

“And if he sold it, what did he do with the money?”

“He didn’t spend it on himself—that’s for sure.” I looked at her. “Did he leave a will?”

Jane thought for a moment. “Not that I know of. He mentioned a while ago that he wanted to hire a lawyer, but I don’t know if he ever did.”

“Did he tell you why he needed a lawyer?”

“No, darn it. But I’ll bet it’s about this necklace.”

We drank our wine in silence for another minute, and then I asked, “Are you going to talk to Cuckoo?”

“No way.”

“Good. I think we should talk to Eric and let him know that Cuckoo threatened you. And I also think we should start searching for the necklace.”

Jane yawned. “Okay. Maybe tomorrow. I need to figure a few things out.”

I put down my glass. Now wasn’t the time to bother Jane with a list of things to do. “I should let you take that nap.”

She laughed. “You know I don’t take naps. I almost smacked you when you said that.”

“I could tell. But I didn’t like seeing Cuckoo barreling toward you the way he did. He’s such a jerk.”

“He really is.” She was quiet for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “I know you’ve got more than enough work to do, but I would so love to get Jesse’s house rehabbed and ready to sell. I don’t want any more crazy people breaking in and ripping down the walls, looking for a necklace that was probably sold years ago.”

“Good idea.”

“So you’ll do the rehab?”

“Of course.” I was happy to have some concrete way to help Jane. “I’ll rearrange a few things on the calendar and try to get started in the next week or so.”

“Thank you, Shannon. I’ll have a cleaning crew go through and get rid of the mess in there as soon as Eric tells me it’s not a crime scene anymore.”

*   *   *

The next day, I held an early-morning meeting at my house with my two foremen, Wade Chambers and Carla Harrison. We had worked together for years, so I knew that Wade would be happier attending an impromptu meeting with the boss if I made blueberry muffins to go with our coffee.

As we munched on muffins, I went over everyone’s schedules and then I mentioned that I’d added Jesse’s house rehab to our workload.

“Wow, we’re going to be busy,” Carla said, counting items on her calendar program.

“I would never turn her down,” I said.

“Of course not.”

“We can handle it, boss,” Wade said, making notes.

“I know, but now I’ve promised both Jane and Emily that we’ll get their projects done quickly.”

“Working with friends,” Wade muttered, shaking his head.

“Your friends are wonderful,” Carla said, smacking Wade’s knee. “We’ll make it happen. He’s just grumpy because Sandy’s away with the kids, visiting her sister.”

I gave him a sympathetic look. “Cooking your own meals, huh?”

“I’m starving,” he moaned.

Carla and I snickered at the sound of whining from such a big, tough bear of a man.

“Don’t laugh. I tried to make spaghetti but had to throw it away. I think I poisoned myself.”

I smiled. “Well, you can take the rest of the muffins home if you’d like.”

“Yeah?” He looked pitifully grateful. “Thanks, I will. These are great.”

Carla grinned at me. “He wangled an invitation to have dinner with me and Chase tonight. I promise I won’t let him wither away on my watch.”

“I appreciate that.”

After we finished rescheduling the jobs and reassigning the crew, I gave Carla and Wade the payroll checks to hand out to the guys. They took off for their jobsites and I spent the day doing more paperwork, my least favorite thing. I went over Mac’s blueprints and began a preliminary list of tools and supplies we would need for the electrical redo on his place.

At the end of the day, the telephone rang and I grabbed it. I was desperate for human contact, even by phone.

Jane said, “Eric called to let me know he’s finished with Jesse’s house. It’s not a crime scene anymore.”

“Great.”

“I’m going to call a cleaning crew, and as soon as they’re done, you’re free to start. No pressure. I know you have other jobs.”

“I’ve already talked to Wade and Carla. We plan to get started as soon as you give us the word.”

She thanked me and we talked for another minute, then ended the call.

I spent Wednesday and Thursday working at my various jobsites, filling in for Sean, who was sick in bed with some kind of icky flu. It felt good to be back on-site after a full week of mourning with Jane and helping arrange things for Jesse’s sendoff. Wade and Carla kept me busy at the sites, too busy to worry about anything except the job at hand.

For me, one of the best aspects of construction work was that sense of accomplishment you got from starting a project and seeing it through to the end. When you put down your hammer or nail gun, you could look around and see a finished room, or a new deck, or a sparkling-clean new bathroom. Sure, it was just a bathroom and not the Nobel Peace Prize, but what the heck? It made me feel good, especially when I saw the homeowners smiling with delight at what my guys and I had just done for them.

Friday morning, I decided to squeeze in a preliminary survey of Jesse’s house. I didn’t want to sacrifice any of my crew to join me, and Jane had a meeting at her bank that morning, so I poured myself another cup of coffee and walked next door to Jesse’s house by myself.

It was weird to return to the house while the sun was shining, weird to think that I’d found Jesse’s body all those days ago. It was no longer a crime scene. Jane’s cleaning crew had come through and done a great job. I couldn’t see a trace of that fine black soot the police liked to leave on every surface after they’d dusted for fingerprints. I knew how hard it was to get rid of that powder residue because the police had dusted for fingerprints in my garage a few months ago and had left it for me to clean.

I was actually looking forward to doing the work on Jesse’s dilapidated home, even though he was no longer here to enjoy it. I’d offered to help him fix the place a bunch of times over the years, but he’d never taken me up on it. His house was charming, or it would be once I was finished with it.

It was one story, but it had a steeply pitched roof and a large attic with a dominant front-facing gable. The porch was roomy enough to create an outdoor sitting room if someone wanted to, and the widow’s walk that circled the attic was instantly appealing from the street. I knew the house would sell quickly.

I had my computer tablet with me, and as I walked through the main living areas, I took pictures and typed out notes. Later, I would prioritize the work. On most jobs, that meant starting with the basement, reinforcing the support posts and beams before doing anything else. Otherwise an old house like this might collapse on top of itself.

The only time I’d ever been in Jesse’s basement was the night Mac and I came looking for the intruder, but it had been so dark that night that I couldn’t see whether there was any damage or not. Now I walked into the pantry, found the brass ring set into the floor, and pulled up the trap door leading to the basement.

I ignored the instant chill that shot up my spine. After finding that body in the basement a few months earlier, I got a little flash of terror whenever I had to go down into the bowels of a house. Not that I would ever mention that aloud to another human being, especially my guys.

“Part of the job,” I grumbled. “Don’t be a wimp.” Besides, next time I ventured into Jesse’s basement, I would be with a few of the crew and wouldn’t have to worry. It was just when I was alone that the thought of these dark, dank spaces creeped me out.

I switched on the light at the top of the stairs, took a bracing breath, and strolled down the steps as if I didn’t have a care in the world. Shining the flashlight around the large space, I confirmed that there was no dead body and sighed with relief. I could handle cobwebs, grime, even spiders if I had to. But I’d rather not.