Armed (28 page)

“Yeah, she said Mrs. Scott knew about her past termination, threatened to tell Mr. Poupée if she didn’t quit and get out. She said she loved the job and refused to leave. She also says Mrs. Scott never accused her of anything to do with diamonds.”

“Oh.”

“And as far as Emmanuelle’s alibi goes, we have someone who remembers seeing her at her apartment, well, in her car anyway, at around five.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” I said. “Mrs. Scott was alive then. Emmanuelle certainly could have gone to the factory at five-thirty.”

“Yeah, but why would she? How would she have known Mrs. Scott had a late meeting with Mr. Poupée?”

“Maybe she overheard them talking,” I suggested half-heartedly.

“We checked that out. Mr. Poupée said they didn’t plan their meeting until early that morning and he’s almost certain Emmanuelle wasn’t in yet.” John let out a huge sigh.

“Can’t you hold her on
suspicion
of diamond smuggling?”

“Not right now. We’re still searching for the source and when we find it, it might very well lead back to her. But until then, we just have to wait.”

“What if she leaves town?”

“We’ve suggested she doesn’t for the time being. What are your plans for Christmas day?”

“What? Oh sorry. Something keeps pulling at my subconscious. I wish I could focus on it. Christmas? I’ll be spending the day, actually Christmas Eve as well, over at my parents. How about you?”

“Pretty much the same. I always spend it with my family. Could we get together some time on Christmas, maybe in the evening?”

“Well, I’ll be with my family—wait, how about if you come by my parents’ house sometime in the evening for eggnog and dessert. We usually have several neighbors stopping by.”

“That sounds nice. I enjoyed talking with them the other day.”

I gave him the address and said I would see him then.

“See who when?” Sam asked as she walked into my office and plopped herself down in the chair.

“John. He wanted to fill me in on the latest developments, of which there are none.” I threw down my pencil in disgust. “And he wants to get together Christmas night. I invited him over for some eggnog in the evening.”

“You don’t sound too happy about it.”

“Oh, I am. I just thought by now Emmanuelle would have been arrested, confessed to the whole thing, dragged Jerry in with her, and we could lock them up and throw away the key.”

“I take it that hasn’t happened.”

“No. Okay.” I tried to sound more festive. “Enough. I am kind of excited about John coming over on Christmas.”

“Mom and Dad liked him. They’ll be thrilled he’s joining us. So, not to change the subject, but when are we going to give Millie her gift?” Sam asked. “I think she’s dying to exchange presents.”

“I can’t believe Christmas is Monday. Why don’t we order out for some sandwiches and have a little party in here?”

“I’m glad we’re giving Millie the trip to Vermont. You should see the box! It’s about the size of a TV and inside are smaller boxes until you get down to a teeny tiny one. I put a certificate inside saying ‘good for one week in Vermont.’ The kids worked on it last night. They designed the certificate with little skiers going down a mountain. Henry said it looked two-hundred percent.”

“Two-hundred percent what?”

“Who knows. He’s just happy if he can add a percent onto everything. Anyway, it’s really quite clever if you’ll allow me to brag about my children.”

“My niece and nephew,” I beamed.

“Okay, Millie, you go first,” I said a while later.

Millie kept her eye on the large box all through lunch and wanted to be the first. She licked mayonnaise from her fingers and pulled the box closer.

Millie was what my mother would call cute as a button, and a good person as well. Her father had died when she was a baby, and her mother and grandmother on her father’s side raised her. Efficient at her job Millie put everyone at ease the minute they walked in the door. She possessed a heart of gold and would do anything for anyone, especially Sam and me.

“How did you ever get this box in here without my seeing it?” she asked of no one in particular.

“I handed it to Alex through my office window when I went to get the sandwiches.”

“Sneaky. You two are definitely sneaky.”

“Well, open it!”

Millie made a great, slow, ceremony of unwrapping each box until Sam could stand it no longer. “Millie Chapman, if you don’t get to it, I’m going to take it away from you.”

Millie finally arrived at the last package. She opened it and unfolded the certificate inside. She didn’t say anything for so long I thought for sure we made a mistake in our choice of gift. When she finally looked up, she had misty eyes.

“I don’t know what to say. I
really
wanted to go on the trip, but we’re so busy and…I don’t have any time left. This is the nicest thing.” She jumped up and hugged us; all three of us reached for a tissue.

“Okay, Alex. Sam. Merry Christmas.” She handed Sam and me each a beautifully wrapped package.

“Millie, did you make this?” I lifted the delicately crocheted tablecloth with little pineapple designs out of the box.

“No. I asked my grandmother to make it for you. She’s been working on it for almost a year. I did the edging. Thank God your dining table isn’t very big. Old Granny’s eyes were starting to cross.”

I fingered the delicate stitches. I loved to crochet but this tiny stitch defied my capabilities. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

Sam opened her package. “A desk blotter! Thanks.”

“A desk just isn’t complete without one.” Millie had chosen a lovely one, with burgundy leather pockets along the edges.

We finished our sandwiches and thanked each other again. We worked hard and continuously the rest of the afternoon.

Finally, about six-thirty Sam looked at her watch. “I say we call it quits for today. It is Christmas eve eve eve eve after all.” Sam put all the wrappings in a big bag she would take to our mother the recycler. “But before we leave, can you guys help me take out all these things for Henry and Kendall? I’m tempted to leave everything in my van until Christmas morning far away from prying eyes and little fingers.”

We hauled out the gifts hidden in Sam’s closet and the one in the hall since the first weeks of December.

“That about does it. No, wait, I think I’m missing one. Now where the heck is that box?”

“That’s it!” I shouted, scaring the daylights out of Millie and Sam.

“What’s it?” Millie asked.

“Jeez, Alex, you scared me half to death,” Sam chided.

“The missing package! That’s what I’ve been trying to remember.”

“When Sam lost one of her boxes, it all fell into place,” I gushed, feeling enormously pleased with myself though somewhat out of breath.

John sat next to Sam. “Now tell me exactly what you told the dispatcher. She said you got pretty excited and she couldn’t understand you.”

I took a deep breath, brought my voice down an octave and explained. “Something’s been nagging at my subconscious ever since Mr. Absher brought that box back to Poupée. Tonight, when Sam couldn’t find one of her gifts, it just all clicked.”

“What about the box? Did Emmanuelle say something to you when you spoke with her?” Sam asked.

“No. I went looking for Richard Sheridan one morning and just as I arrived at his office I heard his voice talking on the phone, so I eavesdropped. I heard him say something about a shipment that never arrived at the customer’s destination.”

“So what does that have to do with a box of eyes?” Sam asked, sounding a bit confused.

“It wasn’t the whole shipment, just a portion and, judging by what Richard said and how worried he sounded, the person on the other end must have been furious. After the phone call, he flew out of his office and went to the factory. A short time later he came back and called the same person saying he looked all over and couldn’t find it. The next day, I saw him out in the factory arguing with Jerry Gagliano so I don’t think it had been found by then. The irony of it all is that I asked everyone if they’d given Mrs. Scott a package to mail because she gave Andy five packages. I never asked Richard. But it must have been his package Mrs. Scott gave to Andy. This whole thing would have been figured out if I had only asked him about the extra package. Damn!”

“Or you could have been killed,” John said solemnly.

I became very still. “I didn’t think of that.”

“This is why it might be best to leave the detecting to the police.”

I wanted to tell him I figured it all out—well, most of it—but changed my mind. Instead, I added, “Oh, I forgot. Richard made a reference to a telephone conversation on Tuesday night. So he must have come to the office then.”

“Not necessarily. He could have made his call from home or his cell. But what makes you think his missing box and the one with the diamonds are one in the same?” John asked.

I leaned back in my chair and ran my hands through my hair before continuing. “Let’s say it’s a normal box of eyes. Okay, it’s inconvenient but you just fax the factory in Europe and get another one sent by Fed-Ex. That’s how it’s done. Sandy Knap explained it to me. No big deal, right? You’re a week, two at the most, off schedule. But now let’s say the box contained something a little more valuable than some plastic orbs.”

“Right. Diamonds. Can’t exactly rustle some up on the spur of the moment and send them out,” Sam said.

“Exactly. So Richard is gone for a week and when he gets back he finds out an order of diamonds is gone. Why? Because Mrs. Scott took the box for evidence. She had a lot of stuff about diamond smuggling on her computer. She must have put in a lot of time figuring all this out.”

“So you think he came to the office on Tuesday night, finds the box missing, confronts Mrs. Scott, and kills her because she won’t give it back?” Sam asked in a somewhat bewildered tone. “How did he know she took the box in the first place?”

“I’m not sure,” I responded. “But we know she confronted Emmanuelle about something. Or maybe she overheard Richard and Emmanuelle talking and searched out in the factory one night, and Voila!”

John shook his head. He had on a pink shirt under a gray pullover sweater. I thought the combination did wonderful things to his eyes.

“What makes you think Richard and Emmanuelle are in this together?” he asked. “She’s still denying any part in anything, meaning murder or diamonds.”

“But you said diamond smuggling involves more than one, and if Emmanuelle is involved, she’d have to have a partner.” I snapped my fingers. “Come to think of it, I saw the two of them having lunch together the other day. They seemed to be having a good time. Probably thinking of how they would spend all their diamond earnings,” I said narrowing my eyes going for the Jessica Fletcher-figures-it-all-out look.

John crossed his arms and slouched down in the chair. “I don’t know. I’m not saying she’s off the hook as a suspect, but something tells me she’s innocent. When did you hear all this?”

“Let me see, it must have been Thursday when I first heard Richard on the phone. And then I saw him out in the factory the next day arguing with Jerry! Hey, why couldn’t his partner be Jerry?” I leaned back in my chair again. “You know, why not? Who better to get the product in and out of the factory than the foreman? Even if Emmanuelle is involved, why not Jerry, too? And…” I picked up steam, “if Jerry thinks Mrs. Scott took the diamonds, coupled with the fact she rejected his advances, well, I can see him killing her. The murder did take place in the factory, his territory.”

“Where did they get the diamonds to begin with?” Sam asked.

“I haven’t figured that one out yet. What’s that face for?” I turned my attention to John who did his damnedest to mask his sheepish expression. It surprised me at how comfortable it felt to be around him—almost like we’d been together forever. “You know something more, don’t you?”

“Nothing I can talk about at this time.”

With those words hanging in the air, I realized for the first time that if John and I continued with what looked like a budding relationship, I couldn’t count on him to share everything with me. Did I want to date a cop? All these doubts instantly vanished a second later when he flashed me a smile and I looked deep into those incredible eyes.

“So how do I know if I really
need
a new mattress,” I asked the young salesman.

“How old is the one you’re using now?”

After savoring a relaxing morning and lingering over tea and an English muffin, I had a burst of energy and now found myself at the mall just a few days before Christmas, inside a mattress store currently advertising a big sale.

I looked up to the ceiling, arms crossed. “Well, let me think. My parents gave it to me, and they had it for a while, and now I’ve been using it for several years…at least thirty years old, I would imagine.”

The young man, already looking overwrought after a week of “unimaginable bargains” at the store, almost choked on a piece of candy cane. “The average lifespan of a mattress is about twelve years. I’d say you’re over due a bit.”

I gave him my best imitation of the evil eye. “It doesn’t have any holes or anything. It seems perfectly fine to me.”

“Then why are you here?” he asked testily.

“I saw your ads. Well, my back’s been bothering me a bit lately. I thought it might be my mattress.” I reached my hand around to the small of my back and gave a small wince, wondering if I caught something from Joanne.

“We have a great one over here,” the young man, whose nametag said Jeff, told me as he walked toward the back of the store. “This is the Field of Dreams model. It’s got extra springs right here and here.” He indicated two spots somewhere in the middle of the mattress. “Do you sleep on your back?”

“No. Stomach.” I bounced around on the mattress.

“That could be your problem right there,” Jeff said, with a knowing look.

“This is really nice. But how do I know if it’s the right one? I don’t suppose you can lock me up all night and let me try it out,” I asked from the middle of the bed, curled on my side.