To Catch a Leaf (9 page)

The gates had finished opening, so Burnett pulled forward, calling, “If you have any other asinine questions, talk to my attorney.”

When the news went to a commercial break, Marco shut off the TV. For a moment, he said nothing; then he sighed. “Go ahead. Tell me your gut was right.”

Nah
. No need to rub it in. “We need a plan, Marco.”

“We have a plan.”

I gave him a kiss. “Not a plan for tonight. That's been firmed up.”

“You're telling me.” He started nibbling along my jawline.

I ignored the innuendo and tried to ignore the nibbling. “How about we have a meeting at noon tomorrow to see if there's been any more news on the homicide investigation, then take it from there? Does that sound like a plan?”

“Yes,” he said, “but remind me in the morning to cancel the shopping trip with my mom.”

All part of the plan.

 

When we got back to my apartment, the little tabby cat was curled up in a comforter Nikki had folded and placed on the living room floor. The kitty raised her head, her eyes alert, and tried to get up on three legs, but wobbled unsteadily.

“Poor little lost Tabitha,” I said, crouching down to pet her.

“You named her Tabitha?” Marco asked, hunkering down beside me to scratch the cat behind her ears.

“I didn't name her, per se. Tabby is too masculine for such a petite thing. Tabitha sounds more feminine.”

I got up and glanced around for a dish. “I wonder if Nikki fed her.”

I trotted to our tiny galley kitchen just off the front entranceway and discovered a note from Nikki:
Kitty wouldn't eat Simon's tuna, so I bought some different brands to try. She finally settled on the fancy (read: pricey) kind. That was at 2 p.m. Try to get her to eat more. No calls or e-mails from the ad I posted.

While Marco opened the champagne and filled two flutes, I put some of the gourmet poached salmon into a bowl and hand-fed Tabitha. Poor thing practically gobbled it down. I brought her water, which she lapped thirstily; then I carried her to the litter box and placed her inside.

She kept trying to balance on her broken hind leg and didn't know what to make of the cast. But finally she figured out how to crouch in the litter on her three good legs to do her business. When she was finished, I carried her back to the living room. She snuggled against my neck, purring, reinforcing my belief that she'd been someone's pet.

Tabitha was a puzzle I was determined to solve. But not with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome waiting for me. Tonight I was all Marco's.

 

 

 

The Newport Heiress Murder, as the press had labeled it, was all over the news the next morning. When I got to Bloomers, I could tell by the dark circles under Grace's eyes that she had not had a restful night, so I knew she'd heard the reports.

I fed Simon and cuddled him awhile; then Lottie and I sat down with Grace in the parlor for our morning meeting. But after only a few minutes it was obvious that Grace's mind was elsewhere.

“Okay,” Lottie said, holding a small cardboard box on her lap, “we've got to decide how to price these sea glasses so we can get them sold. Are we going to leave them in the window?”

“Anyone know a friendly optician who would take them off our hands?” I asked.

“The glasses aren't prescription, sweetie,” Lottie said. “Opticians wouldn't touch them.”

“I shouldn't have touched anything either,” Grace said, twisting her fingers together.

“What was that?” Lottie asked.

“I shouldn't have touched anything. I shouldn't even have entered Connie's house. I should have come back here and phoned the police.”

“
Should haves
aren't fair, Gracie,” Lottie said. “Don't go down that road. You don't know where it will lead, and what are you always telling us about anticipating trouble?”

Despite Grace's apprehension, she couldn't resist sharing from her enormous repertoire of quotations. “‘What we anticipate seldom occurs; what we least expect generally happens.' Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of Bea-consfield.”

“See there?” Lottie said, as if that settled the matter once and for all, while I was still working on the fact that Grace knew Disraeli was an earl of something.

“Grace,” I said, as Simon jumped up onto my lap to survey the table, “I made a promise to you yesterday, remember? Marco and I will investigate.”

“Thank you, love,” she said tearfully. “I simply cannot fathom anyone purposefully ending Connie's life. It's horrible, just horrible, to think about.”

“Then don't think about it,” Lottie said. “Get your mind on something else, like what price to put on these sea glasses. I'll bet any money that Maureen will stop by after school to see if any of them have sold.”

“I wish I could set my mind to work on something else,” Grace said.

The phone rang, and Grace rose to answer it at the cashier counter. As soon as she was gone, Lottie said in a hushed voice, “Poor Gracie. She's usually so upbeat. It isn't like her to be so bleak.”

“She had quite a shock finding that body, Lottie, not to mention that she lost her friend.”

“I know, sweetie. It's just hard seeing Gracie like this. Oh, before I forget, Jillian called here looking for you this morning.”

“That's two days in a row she's made it up before midmorning,” I said. “I wonder why she didn't use my cell phone number.”

“I don't know, but she said not to call her because she was going back to bed. She'll phone you later.”

“That's what Jillian said yesterday and then never called,” I said.

“You're not complaining, are you?” Lottie asked.

Grace returned with a puzzled look on her face. “That was Thurmon Duval, the Newport family attorney. He'd like me to be present for the reading of Connie's will at four o'clock.”

“Today?” I asked. “So soon?”

“It was Connie's request,” Grace said. “Thurmon allowed that it was highly unusual. He wouldn't say more than that. Perhaps he'll explain the reason for the rush. He also mentioned that a police officer is to be present, as well. Isn't that odd?”

“Did Mr. Duval say why?” I asked.

“Only that he wanted to prepare me so I wouldn't be alarmed by it,” Grace said.

“The attorney must be expecting trouble among the relatives,” Lottie said. “You know what this means, don't you? Your friend Connie left you something!”

“Let's not put the cart before the horse,” Grace said. “As Shakespeare so aptly wrote in the
Merchant of Venice
, ‘Let none presume to wear an undeserved dignity.'”

“Gracie,” Lottie said, “if all Connie left you was dignity, I doubt the lawyer would call you in for it. Now, it's almost time to open, so let's get these sea glasses stickered. Did your mom say how much we should charge, Abby?”

“Fifty dollars,” I said, then cringed at the look both women gave me. “It
is
art,” I reminded them.

But after we had trooped out to the shop to take another look at the display, Grace said, “Shall we say ten dollars?”

“Done,” I said.

“I'll get them tagged now,” Lottie said, “but I have to tell you, that bald head reminds me of the Star Wars robot. Remember the gold butler with the British accent?”

“You're thinking of C-Three PO,” I said.

“I think we should name the head,” Grace said. “It would make her less of a fright.”

“How about
Sea
Three PO?” I asked, spelling out the word
sea.

Grace placed her hand on the manikin head. “I hereby christen thee Miss Sea Three PO.”

“What should I tell my mom about the price change?” I called, as Grace headed into the parlor to get the coffee machine and tea kettles ready.

She turned with a serene smile. “You'll think of something.”

The phone rang, so I answered at the cashier counter. At the sound of Marco's voice on the other end, my pulse did its usual trick of shifting into overdrive. Was it crazy to still feel that way about a guy I'd known for almost a year? Would it bother me either way? No.

“Hey, Fireball, how's the world's sexiest florist this morning?”

“Missing you, Salvare. How's the world's hunkiest PI?”

“When I see him, I'll ask.”

“Great. Also ask him if he called his mom to cancel our noon shopping trip. He and I have a meeting planned, remember? Plus we have to discuss recent developments.”

“Why cancel? I've got time for that meeting right now.”

“We scheduled that meeting at noon for a reason, Marco. You didn't forget to call your mom, did you?”

“I didn't forget, and I will call her.”

Translation: He
did
forget, and he will make sure to call her when she can't answer so he can leave her a voice mail. In his place, I'd do the same.

“So what are the latest developments,” Marco asked, “or are you going to make me wait until our meeting?”

“I'll give you the condensed version. Grace got a call from Constance Newport's attorney asking her to be at his office at four o'clock for the reading of the will.”

“So soon?”

“Those were Constance's instructions. And get this, Marco: A policeman will be present.”

“Sounds like the attorney is expecting trouble.”

“That's what Lottie said. Poor Grace will be in the thick of it.”

“I'm sure she'll be fine. Now, then,” he said, his voice turning husky, “about that payback?”

“What payback?”

“The one you'll owe me for canceling your shopping trip with my mom.”

“It's
our
shopping trip, and why would I owe you for dealing with
your
mom? All you have to do is make a simple call.”

“If it's so simple, why don't you do it? She'll be your mother-in-law.”

So either I had to call and cancel, or I owed Marco a payback. That was a no-brainer. “I'm all ears, Salvare. How about we discuss your payback at our meeting?”

“Want to clarify what you mean by
discuss
?”

“I'd rather leave it open for interpretation.”

“Your interpreter will be waiting, baby.”

Fantastico
.

 

When Grace returned from her meeting with Constance Newport's attorney, she came straight into the workroom where I was putting together a wedding bouquet of ivory callas and baby's breath, and sat on one of the wooden stools, staring straight ahead. When she didn't say anything, I said, “Grace, are you all right?”

“I'm flummoxed.” She paused to shake her head in disbelief. “Completely flummoxed.”

Lottie came in behind her. “How did it go?”

When Grace merely shook her head, I said, “She's flummoxed.”

“Why?” Lottie asked, pulling up a stool to sit beside her.

“I don't know what Connie could have been thinking,” Grace said.

As we waited for her to finish her thought, Simon leaped onto the work surface and came over to sniff the callas. Finding them uninteresting, he began pushing stray leaves off the side of the table and watching them float to the floor.

Grace sighed loudly. “It was simply appalling. I still can't believe it.”

“If you're going to tell us,” Lottie said, “could you make it sometime today? The suspense is killing me.”

Grace looked up, surprised to see us both watching her. “Sorry. I suppose you'll be wanting to know what happened, won't you?”

“Ya think?” Lottie asked.

“She cut her family out, Connie did. Or nearly so. They will receive only token amounts of money. She was obviously terribly angry with them.”

“Who's getting the rest?” Lottie asked, ever practical.

As though Grace didn't hear her, she went on. “And yet Connie was quite generous with her housekeeper and chauffeur. Thinking back to our last meeting, however, I do remember her complaining about her family's laziness, bemoaning that the only thing they were good for was spending her money. Connie's hope had been that they would carry on her charitable work, but it seemed that day she had given up.”

“So the housekeeper and driver got all her money?” Lottie asked.

“No, her housekeeper, Mrs. Dunbar, is to receive all of Connie's silver,” Grace said. “Twenty-four antique silver place settings, a complete tea set, and a candelabra. Her chauffeur, Mr. Luce, will receive her Bentley. Can you imagine? Her
Bentley.
And her liquid assets, some five million dollars' worth, will be divided among her pet charities.”

“That's terrific. Now, get to the good part,” Lottie said, her knees bouncing in anticipation. “What did Connie leave you?”

“A first-edition book,” Grace said, pulling a tissue from her sleeve as her eyes welled up with tears. “Apparently, it was the one I was to collect on Monday, which makes me think Connie wanted to explain the circumstances of her will. But now we'll never know, will we?”

I watched Lottie's expression go from excited to disappointed as she absorbed the news. “Are you telling me that her housekeeper gets the family silver, her driver gets a go-to-heck car, and you got a
book
?”

Grace nodded, sniffling. “Mr. Duval said it is worth approximately ten thousand dollars.”