Read Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery Online

Authors: Elaine Flinn

Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery (20 page)

BOOK: Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery
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Molly scooted into the kitchen, plugged in the electric teakettle, and then ran to her room to throw on her sweats. She slipped into her sneakers and raced back to the kitchen to find Emma there filling two mugs with hot water for Molly’s Café Français and her instant cocoa.
“Ha! You’re the lazybones this time!” Emma laughed.
“You cheater! You were ready when I called you!”
“Yep, back to anticipating.”
Molly threw her arm around Emma’s shoulder. “What would I do without you?”
“You say that all the time, but I love it.” She hugged Molly back. “Ditto.”
 
They sat on the bottom of the back stairs just off Tosca’s courtyard and drained their mugs. Molly stretched her arms and took in a deep breath. “Smell those pines? Oh, wow! What a wonderful way to start the day. Come on, brat. Let’s roll.”
By the time they reached Carmel Beach, only five blocks away and all downhill, Molly was out of breath. When they reached the walking path above the beach, she waved Emma on. “I’ll come down in a few minutes and catch up with you. Don’t get close to the surf, okay? Remember what Randall told us.”
“Right. Don’t turn your back to the sea, or it’ll get ya’.”
Molly was still short of breath and nodded. She realized it was a mistake to start out with a brisk walk. If she hadn’t wanted to show Emma she could keep up with her, she’d be down on the sparkling white sands with her right now. Vanity, she thought. And too much good food. At least she had been able to curtail her smoking enough not to place all the blame there. But then she realized that was just an excuse. She was going to be forty in three months, and a pack-a-day habit for too many years to admit to was rearing its ugly head. She had resented Emma’s teasing about her smoking at first, but now she was glad Emma had. Not that she was completely free of the habit, but knowing that little imp was looking over her shoulder, she had managed to drastically curb the need. Even Daria had cut back. The thought of Daria reminded her of the silver she’d found for her. Molly made a mental note to call her. Tomorrow was going to be dinner night instead of tonight, and she would drop all the pieces off then.
At the staircase down to the beach, Molly stopped to take in the awesome view. The Carmel Bay was preening today. Azure sky met a deeper blue ocean. The small whitecaps farther out were shimmering. The sand sparkled in the early morning light and at least a dozen morning strollers, many with their dogs on leashes, made a postcard-ready photo. It was a scene that never changed, yet always seemed different somehow. Molly often felt like stretching her arms wide then slowly drawing them in, capturing the majesty and holding it in an embrace.
Molly watched as Emma stopped to greet some of the walkers they knew. As she descended to the beach, she noticed a man sitting on newspapers he’d spread out on the sand. There was something about the way he held himself that made Molly think she’d seen him before. She was close enough to know he wasn’t a regular. And his tweed sport coat, slacks, and loafers made him look as if he were ready for breakfast at the Lodge at Pebble Beach instead of sitting on the sand. Molly shaded her eyes against the sun. When he turned his head, Molly realized he was the man who had bought the water pitcher and the boat. The man who had left her a message last night. She moved back, out of his view, and watched him. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him turn his head again to follow Emma as she continued to jog down the beach. Molly moved back up the stairs and beckoned Emma to join her. She wondered if Bitsy was right about him. Perverts, like murderers, came in all shapes and sizes. Expensive clothes, too.
Emma’s face was flushed from running. ‘Aren’t you coming down?”
Molly saw the man get up off the sand. He picked up the newspaper, turned in their direction, and watched them as he folded the paper into a neat square and tucked it under his arm. She turned away from the man. “We’re heading back.”
“We just got here. What’s wrong?”
“Don’t look around, but did you notice that man sitting on the newspaper?”
“Nope. Oh, wait—yes, I did. He was dressed kinda funny to be ocean watching.”
Molly linked her arm in Emma’s. “He’s been in the shop twice. He bought the silver pitcher from the Del Monte Hotel, and that big ship model we had in back from Bitsy. He asked her a lot of questions about you, and he made her nervous.”
Emma skidded to a halt. “Do you think he followed us? We should tell Randall right away.”
Molly pulled Emma along. “Don’t stop walking. He couldn’t have followed us. He was already here when we arrived. But I will tell Randall, just in case. I don’t want you leaving the shop or the apartment today.”
Molly decided not to tell Emma that the man had called and was planning on coming into the shop today. Until she knew what he was up to, it was best to keep her in the dark. Emma had exhibited too much of a liking for mystery, and she didn’t want to encourage her.
“We’re still going to have croissants at Tosca’s, aren’t we?”
Molly made a joke of patting her hips. “Maybe we should pass on that today. We ate a ton at Ruby’s last night, and we won’t be getting a full walk in today.”
 
Later that morning, Molly was about to pull the CLOSED sign from the window when she saw a sheriff’s patrol car slowly driving past. She left the sign and hurried to her desk. She picked up the phone and called Randall.
“Calm down, it’s not Reynolds. He’s with Lucero in a meeting.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know everything.”
Molly laughed. “Of course. Excuse me. But, uh, what might they be discussing? He’s almost past the magic hours isn’t he? The solve-it-in-forty-eight or get ready to hit the street?”
“No doubt the meet is a case update.”
“Susan Jessop left me a message last night. I didn’t return her call, and I’m not going to. And I’m not giving her Loomis’s number either.”
“Keep your distance from her as best you can. If she comes in and gives you heat, call me.”
Molly then told Randall about the man on the beach. “He’s coming in today. I’m almost tempted not to open. Between Susan Jessop and him, I’m ready to pull the covers over my head or go read a good book.”
“Okay, call me if either one shows up. I can be there in five minutes. Damn, it, Molly! I can’t believe the messes you get into.”
“What is it about me? My charming smile, or do I just look like I love problems?”
“I don’t know, but it’s not something I’d want to bottle and sell.”
 
Molly pulled the sign from the window, squared her shoulders, and braced herself for a full day. She spent the next few minutes checking for dust, put two fresh logs on the grate in the fireplace and got a lovely fire going, rearranged a stack of leather books on a nineteenth-century, French Provincial, bowfront, kingwood commode (whose price, she decided, was light by five hundred bucks), then headed for the storage room to set up the five-disc CD player. While she made a new tag for the commode, she remembered the postcard she had shoved in her tote. She pulled it out. Almost dreading to turn it over, she counted to five, then flipped it onto the desk, hoping it would land upside down. She almost felt as if touching it further would burn her fingers. Her eyes widened in amazement. A rabbit had been drawn on the message side. What the hell? Whatever trepidation Molly may have felt, it was now quickly morphing into a red-hot anger. She had half a mind to throw the damn thing away. If this was a joke, she was not amused. She set the postcard aside and finished making the new tag for the commode.
Molly had just replaced the tag when she heard the bell over the door. When she turned to see who had come in, she had to hold onto the edge of the commode to steady herself. Lieutenant Reynolds from the sheriff’s department was standing at her desk with a bland look on his face. “If you’ll spare me a few minutes, Ms. Doyle, I have a few questions.”
Molly took her time walking down the center aisle. Randall must have bad information, or else Reynolds’s meeting with Lucero didn’t last very long. She hoped he didn’t notice that her hands had already begun to sweat or that her knees were beginning to stiflen. “Of course, I have all the time in the world. Have a seat.” She turned to enter the storage room and said, “I’ll just unplug the teakettle first. It has a habit of boiling over.” Molly reached for the portable phone on the shelf and speed-dialed Randall’s direct line. She prayed he was in. When he picked up on the second ring, she clattered a few cups and saucers so Reynolds couldn’t hear her. “Your intel sucks. Reynolds just walked in.”
Back on the floor, she moved around to her desk, sat down, and smiled. “How can I help you?” Before he could answer, she jumped back up. “I’m sorry, I should have asked if you’d like coffee? Or maybe tea?”
“Nothing for me. But you go right ahead.”
“Be just a minute.” Molly returned to the storage room, plopped a teabag in a mug, and took her time filling it. She dunked the teabag several times, buying precious seconds with each dip, then picked up the portable phone and punched in her second line.
When it rang, she poked her head around the door and said, “Excuse me, I’ll have to take this.” At her desk, the mug in one hand and the phone in the other, she said, “Treasures, good morning.”
Molly kept a smile on her face as she set the mug on her desk, then engaged in a one-sided conversation. “Oh, yes, I do have a Gallé piece. No, not expensive at all, at least not for Gallé. I have a small vase. Yes, a cameo thistle, and it’s in excellent condition. Hmmm? I believe it’s priced at around two hundred. I’m at my desk, but I can check for you. Lalique? No, not at the moment. I had a lovely perfume bottle last month though. Oh, yes, they’re gorgeous. Oh. of course, I’d be delighted to keep an eye open for you. Could you give me your name and number?” Molly gave Reynolds an apologetic smile as she reached for a notepad and pen. “Is that Hannigan with one ‘n’ or two? Great, got it all. So nice of you to call. Oh, no bother at all. Certainly, any time is fine. I’m open seven days a week from ten until six. Wedgwood luster? Hmm, no, I haven’t run across any lately. Oh, aren’t they the devil to find? Shall I put that on your want list as well?”
Molly could see Reynolds was becoming impatient. There was no sense in aggravating him more than necessary. Randall should be here any moment. She ended the call, then apologized. “I’m so sorry, but business is business, right?” When he didn’t answer, she gave him a smile, “Are you sure I can’t offer you anything to drink? I only have instant coffee, but it’s actually very good.”
Reynolds was looking at his notebook, and shook his head. “You’ve been here in Carmel how long now?”
So much for courtesy, Molly thought. She paused, pretending to think. “Well, let’s see. A little less than three years now.”
“You don’t own this store, right?”
“No. I manage it for Max Roman. He owns the entire complex as well.”
“If you don’t own it, then why are you out going to garage sales all the time? You do a little personal business on the side?”
Molly laughed. “How do you know I go to garage sales ‘all the time’?”
“It’s my job to know these things.”
Molly could feel that old Irish creeping up her neck. “Is it your job to delve into the private lives of ordinary citizens just for the hell of it, or do you know my comings and goings for a specific reason?”
Reynolds ignored her, checked his notes again, and gave her a hard stare. “My question is—do you do other business on the side? It’s relevant to my next question.”
Molly suddenly knew where this was going. She tried to look past Reynolds’s shoulder to see if she could spot Randall. He should have been here by now. There was no point in stalling anymore. “Then your so-called relevant question must be how I came to be involved with the Jessops, right?”
When Reynolds didn’t answer, Molly said, “Yes, I do
other
business on the side. My employer encourages me to attend sales and offer my buys here in the shop alongside his merchandise. I’ve also branched out into interior decoration to broaden my client base. Carla Jessop approached me because of my reputation, and asked me to assist her in redecorating the tasting room at Bello Lago.”
“Oh, right. Your reputation. Things are beginning to make sense now.”
“Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?” Randall said as he entered the shop.
The lieutenant’s head jerked around. Molly could see the cold anger in his eyes as he stared at Randall. “You’ll have to excuse us,
Chief.
This is a private interview.”
Randall pulled his cigar from his mouth and grinned. “Sounds more like harassment to me.”
The lieutenant rose and stared Randall down. “I’ll ask you to leave just once more.”
Molly rose as well. “Oh, this is an
interview
? I thought you only had a few questions.”
It was apparent that Reynolds had a change of heart when he said, “Relax, this is an informal interview.”
“In that case,” Molly said, “there’s no reason why Chief Randall can’t stay, is there?”
Reynolds shrugged. “As long he doesn’t interrupt.”
BOOK: Deadly Vintage: A Molly Doyle Mystery
2.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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