The Jewelry Case (18 page)

Ian yelped and bounded up the stairs. She heard banging and heavy footsteps, then he loped back into view shaking his head. "Yesterday I left some expensive tools up there that used to belong to my father. Evidently that's not what they were looking for." He looked at her meaningfully. "Okay, Paisley. Time to put your cards on the table."

Her eyes widened innocently. "What do you mean?"

He let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it tousled. "Look. You seem to be a fairly intelligent person, and I don't consider myself a total idiot, either. Maybe we should trust each other enough to be honest with each other."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"All right, I'll start. Unlike the cops, I don't think it was a random drug addict, looking for a stash of cash under your mattress. I know why you're here, Paisley. And it's not just for rest and relaxation, or to share your talents in community theater with the residents of River Bend."

Her eyes dropped.

"Yes," he said softly. "I think I can guess what your burglars were looking for. And I think you do too. The Perelman's lost jewels."

Her head flew up. "How did you
…?
" She stopped, and tried again. "What do you mean? You said yourself there aren't any!"

"The point is that you believe in them. Apparently, so does someone else."

"The missing Perleman jewels? I think it's very likely they're nothing but a rumor. Someone's imagination run amok."

"Then why did you come to River Bend?"

"For rest and relaxation." She had repeated the story so often that it flowed out automatically. "I needed a quiet place to recuperate after the accident. Esther had left me the house, so it made perfect sense
.
"

"Sure." His voice dripped sarcasm. "'A beautiful, sophisticated woman, a world-traveler, comes to stay in a run-down house in the middle of nowhere, far from friends, shopping, and theaters, just for the peace and quiet.' Forgive me for believing there's more to it than that. I happen to think it's much more likely that you'd heard the rumors about hidden rubies and thought you might as well find out if the rumors were true."

There was a grain of truth to that. Subconsciously, she probably had been at least partially motivated by that hope. But she stuck to her guns. "Don't you think that's a pretty big leap?"

"Come on, it's the only explanation for your presence that makes sense. Ever since you came, I've been wondering why a woman like you
…
talented, famous …."

"I'm not famous." Jonathan, yes. Her, no. Although if things had gone differently, she might have been.

"…Would want to stay in a falling-down old dump, in a two-bit town that only aspires to be another Calistoga, when you could have recuperated on the Riviera or in Malibu?"

She opened her mouth to inform him that such swank places were out of her budget these days, but he went on: "I got my first clue when you got so excited about that old box that had been stuffed in the wall at first, but showed no interest in the letter inside. That showed you were hoping to find something else. I'd heard the old stories about Esther's jewels, too, you know, so it wasn't hard to put two and two together."

She sat down heavily. "How did you know? I thought it was a family secret."

He sounded scornful. "If it was a secret, it was poorly kept. I hate to disappoint you, Paisley, but those jewels existed, they'd have been found long ago. Jonathan's grandmother spent her whole life looking for them."

But his grandmother had never found Esther's treasure box hidden in the wall. Or
had s
he? What if the jewels had been there, and Henka had removed them and replaced the box? Paisley doubted it. If Henka had found the jewels, she would have announced the fact loudly.

Paisley tried again. "How did you know the story? Jonathan told me only the family knew."

"Esther told me herself. Like I told you, I used to drop by after school, sometimes, to help her change a light bulb, get her cat out of a tree, stuff like that. An old lady living by herself sometimes needs help, or just someone to talk to. She would pour a pot of hot chocolate, serve up her famous blueberry muffins, and we'd sit down for a chat."

"Which eventually got around to the subject of jewels?" Paisley did not hide her incredulity.

He chuckled. "Mostly she discussed history, politics, literature.... In spite of our age difference, she never talked down to me. But yes, eventually it got around to the subject of jewels. She told me they'd never existed, and how silly it was for people to make fools of themselves over them. It was clear Esther was referring to her Aunt Henka, who spent her life looking for them."

Paisley was silent. She had thought the legend of the jewels was her personal secret. To find out that Ian knew about them …
more, apparently, than she did … was an almost physical blow. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. After all, Shirley had been familiar with the tale, too. As was, apparently, someone who believed in the jewels enough to have rifled through her home looking for them.

The sound of a loud meow, followed by the outraged caw of a raven in the oak tree near the front door, interrupted them. For a moment, they were both silent, listening to the cat chasing the bird.

"I'd like to hear what Esther told you," Paisley said quietly, when the racket quieted. Either the raven had made its escape, or the cat had dragged away its next meal. The thought made her shudder. "She was probably the only one who knew the truth."

Ian shrugged. "She said that her entire life people had spied on her, hoping she would lead them to the hidden cache
. E
specially her own relatives. But the jewels never turned up. She'd say, 'Do I look like a duchess?' and throw up her bare hands. 'See? No rings, not even from a box of Cracker Jacks.' And then she laughed even harder."

Paisley smiled in spite of herself. She could almost hear Esther's raspy chuckle.

Ian's expression grew serious. "There is no treasure, Paisley. I'm sorry. I hope that doesn't disappoint you. If you thought there would be a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, you're wrong."

"Why should I be disappointed? I didn't really expect to find a hidden stash of jewels any more than I expect to win the lottery. But maybe someone else is more optimistic. Or
—
" Paisley glanced around the disarranged room and shivered slightly. "
—
was. Hopefully, they've given up looking for them." She stood, brushing her hands on her skirt, as if brushing away her expired fantasies of an easy way past her financial troubles. "So long as you're in here, would you like some breakfast?"

"Any muffins left over from yesterday?" Ian asked hopefully.

Paisley laughed. "Your crew gobbled them all up. How about scrambled eggs and toast instead?" She led the way into the kitchen, as his footsteps followed her down the hall.

While the eggs cooked, she heated some milk for hot chocolate, and poured it, foaming, into two cups she'd found in the cupboard.

It seemed natural to have Ian stretching out his long legs at the table as she cooked, hands clasped behind his head. He was wearing khakis and a plaid button-up shirt instead of his usual worn-out jeans and T-shirt; he seemed in no hurry to get started with the repairs. Today, she thought with surprise, he actually looked like the aspiring architect he was. He really wasn't bad looking after all either, all cleaned up and dressed respectably.

Then it occurred to her she hadn't seen Rusty, Quinn, or Alix yet. Where was his work crew? Were they running late?

She didn't care enough to ask. Setting two plates on the table, she took the seat opposite him, and looked at him curiously. "Let's get back to the burglary. Why now? The house has been vacant for nearly a year. They could have gone through it at any time. And, in fact, they probably did." She thought of the broken window Ray had pointed out when she arrived, which Ian had just replaced.

"Maybe your arrival reignited their interest. Whoever 'they' are." Ian dug into his own breakfast with relish, buttering his toast thickly and throwing back a glass of orange juice in a single swallow. His Adam's apple went up and down. "Someone may have learned about Esther's treasure box and decided to see if anything else was hidden on the premises. You're lucky they didn't tear down any more walls. The first thing I'm going to do after eating breakfast is install new locks on all your doors. Deadbolts."

"But there was nothing of value in that old box," she protested. "And nobody knew about it except us." She paused, a fork of scrambled eggs suspended in midair, and added slowly, "And Rusty, Quinn, or Alix. They were here. They saw it."

He caught her meaning immediately and bristled. "I can assure you they have nothing to do with the break-in." His gray eyes met hers across the table, suddenly serious. "My endorsement may not mean much to you, but I'd trust them with my life. Neither of them are capable of breaking into someone else's home."

She shuddered at the memory of arriving at the house and realizing her home had been violated. "You have no idea how horrible it was. The thought of someone going through my things...! Ugh." Then her eyes widened. "As long as we're talking about possible suspects....In crime novels, they're always talking about motive and opportunity. Well, if whoever broke in was looking for jewelry, real or unreal, it must be someone who has heard the old story. If we make a list of everyone who…."

"That wouldn't narrow it down much. That list could include a lot of people. How would we know who knows about it and who doesn't?"

She sank back into her chair, disappointed.

He relented. "Okay, I suppose we can try. After all, in the absence of evidence, but we can at least consider motive and opportunity. What about Ray Henderson, for instance?"

"Ray?" Her eyebrows shot up. "Just because you dislike him…
!

Ian set down his fork. "I may be prejudiced, but he tried to prevent you from coming to River Bend, didn't he? Pressured you to sell Esther's house sight unseen. Then, once you got here, he tried to get you to leave again."

"Any realtor chasing a commission would have done the same," she pointed out. "And he was right: there was no need for me to come to oversee the sale of the house. Besides, we have no reason to think he knew about the
….
" She broke off.

He turned abruptly. "What is it?"

She gulped. "This is embarrassing to admit, but I did mention jewels to him. Not Ruth Wiegel's rubies, of course; I was just using an old expression in an off-hand way, trying to be funny. But he picked up on it. He made a joke about 'family jewels' himself. It was just a slightly offensive, off-color remark, and had absolutely nothing to do with what we're talking about."

Although, she thought, Ray did change his mind about her staying in River Bend after that. Ian was just prejudiced against the burly real estate agent because of the old rivalry involving Ian's father.

"So." He held up a finger triumphantly. "We have suspect number one."

"But Ray had a key to the house. He had no need to break in."

"Suspect number two." Ian held up another finger. "Steve."

Her eyes flew wide open. "Steve Lopez?" Her handsome neighbor?

"Come on, Paisley. You must know he's the most obvious suspect. He likes expensive things, dresses well, lives beyond his means. And the winery has been losing money hand over fist ever since he inherited it. He's been pouring funds into it like a drunk downing a bottle of one-buck chuck."

"But that's outrageous," she sputtered. She was sympathetic to Steve, who was struggling to be a good step-father to a troubled, unappreciative teenager. "So he's a flashy dresser. Jonathan was too. That's no reason to…."

"And he's your neighbor. Perfectly situated to observe your comings and goings and peer through your windows. Maybe you should drop by and see if he has a telescope strategically placed upstairs, facing your house."

"Which means he could have gone through my house multiple times over the past year at his leisure, without anyone stopping him," she pointed out patiently. "Did he expect me to bring the jewels to River Bend with me, and leave them lying in plain view on my dresser? That's ridiculous. Especially, since our whole theory is based on the gems having been hidden on these premises seventy-five years ago."

Ian folded his arms across his chest. "We're not talking about what we believe," he said stubbornly. "We're talking about what Steve might believe."

"Which we haven't any idea of," she said ungrammatically, rolling her eyes. "We don't know that Steve believes anything, knows anything, or has anything to do with anything at all, or Ray, either. We're making all of this up. If knowing about the story of jewels is enough to make one a suspect, then you should be on the list, too."

Giving up on the discussion, she opened her purse, got out a small bottle of nail polish, and, kicking off her gold ballet flats, began applying hot pink color to her toenails.

He came over and dropped onto the sofa with a disgusted look at her efforts. "Why do women put on that stuff?"