Larceny and Lace (24 page)

He nodded, grudgingly.

I thanked my stars and let it go. “"This gown,”" I said, “"is the one McDowell’'s dead wife is wearing in her portrait at the dealership. In it, she’'s also wearing the diamond I gave you.”"

Werner gave me a respectful head tilt. “"I’'ll get a warrant and pick up the portrait tomorrow, evidence that the ring is hers.”"

“"If you take it down,”" I said, “"McDowell will lose his dealership, and Gary Goodwin, Isobel’'s cousin, will get it. I’'d pay money to see that portrait come down. What time are you going?”"

“"Now, Madeira.”"

“"Come on. That’'s not fair. I just gave you evidence you didn’'t have before.”"

“"I know you did. But life’'s not fair.”"

“"You bet it’'s not,”" Eve said, wiping her eyes with an embarrassed chuckle. “"I’'m working tomorrow and I’'ll have to miss the show.”"

“"Do you have any more of Isobel’'s clothes?”" Werner asked.

“"I sold a few pieces.”" I nearly ducked. “"Don’'t get mad.”" He raised a brow. “"They were yours to sell. You didn’'t sell the quilt or the diamond. I’'ve got your number, Madeira.”"

I wondered if that was good or bad. “"The clothes on these racks all belonged to the first Mrs. McDowell.”"

Werner seemed to be considering options. “"I’'ve got a description of what she was last seen wearing.”"

“"Anything here fit the bill?”" I asked.

“"Well, that’'s the problem. The description doesn’'t tell me anything. It’'s in fashion speak, as described by Mrs. McDowell’'s secretary at the time. If I get the description, can you match it to an outfit?”"

“"If I do, can I go and see you take down that portrait?”" Werner denied my request with a shake of his head as he called the precinct and had someone read the clothing description in his file. “"She was last seen wearing ‘'a rust linen fitted cape—--”" He listened again. “"With black piping over a black linen sheik dress.”" He looked up at me. “"Got that?”"

“"It’'s a sheath dress, but yes, I’'m afraid I do have it.”" Except that she was really last seen wearing the suede fringed skirt that Rebecca bought, but I couldn’'t tell Werner that. My first vision, however, had been correct, and yet my arms and legs felt weighted as I unzipped the garment bag and removed the described outfit, careful only to touch its

hanger. I blinked a couple of times as I handed it to him.

He could see that I was shaken. “"Is this the cape you were going to keep—--Madeira, are you all right?”"

“"It’'s silly,”" I said. “"You play with people’'s clothes and you get attached to their bones.”" I wiped my cheeks with the back of a hand. Eve wasn’'t far behind me.

“"You two would make terrible cops. Stick with fashion,”" he said. “"You don’'t get hurt that way.”"

I so wanted to differ.

“"By the way,”" he said as he left with the cape and dress outfit, “"the brakes on your Element are locking. You should get the dealer to look at that tomorrow morning . . . around ten.”"

Forty-two
I have the reputation of being easygoing. But inside, I’'m like nails. I will kill.

—--CALVIN KLEIN

Eve was right. I did have a hard time dressing down. Just to take my car in for service and witness the toppling of the McDowell empire, I dressed in a moirée silk plum shirt with Janice Wainwright jodhpurs and a pair of Michael Kors cork wedges in plum with one of his famously massive totes to match.

Call me crazy but I felt the need to pack a gun to go anywhere near McDowell. I settled for a less violent means of self-defense. I filled the well of the oversized tote with some of my grandmother’'s marble eggs. I wanted the bag uber heavy in the event I found it necessary to smack the man.

When I picked up the bag to leave, however, the echoing sound of breaking pool balls followed. To muffle them, I found it necessary to wrap each egg in rolls of fabric, lots of it, until I stopped knocking as I walked.

Okay, so it weighed a bit more than my usual purse, like twenty pounds or more, and I had to carry it slung over a shoulder like a farmer carried a sack of potatoes, but the weight of it made me feel secure.

At the last minute, I remembered to take my cell phone from its charger, but I didn’'t want the slim red miracle of technology to get pulverized by the contents of my purse. So I slipped it in my pocket.

I was forced to leave my car at the end of a long line of cars waiting for repairs at the service center because I didn’'t have an appointment, a great excuse to linger. I sighed. Two days until my grand opening, and I’'m playing hooky. Eve is always right; I must be certifiable.

I found a comfortable sofa, from which I could see both Isobel’'s portrait and McDowell’'s desk, because I didn’'t want to miss the incredulous look on his face at the moment of his karmic fall.

I don’'t normally wish anyone ill, but the man murdered his wife, a woman with whom I’'d formed a bond, probably from experiencing her last moments in my first vision with she/we beginning to fall down that well.

I wished I could see Lolique’'s face when she learned they were going to be poor. Not that it would matter to her in jail, which is where she belonged. I’'d brought a fashion magazine and got into an article about Marc Jacobs. Next thing I know McDowell is standing in front of me. I questioned his space-invading presence with a look, and he stooped down in front of me while I imagined him wrapping Isobel in a quilt and sticking her in the trunk of his car. Wait? Whose voice had I heard at the fairgrounds?

“"You don’'t like me much, do you?”" he asked.

Understatement falling on deaf ears. Look out below. “"Call it instinct,”" I said, wondering if he knew that his stitch of a wife was a killer, too.

“"If you’'ve decided that you don’'t want to give me your business, Madeira, I’'ll take the car back and send you over the state line to my competition in Rhode Island.”"

“"Is that where the well is? Or is it on your Groton property?”" He stood like
I
was the scary one. “"What the hell are you talking about? You need to get a grip, Ms. Cutler.”"

I did. I got a grip on my shoulder bag, until Gary Goodwin rolled his wheelchair over.

“"I sense some animosity, here. Let’'s not make a scene, McDowell. Ms. Cutler, help an old man. Come, push my chair out into the fresh air while you wait for your car.”" I’'d need two hands to do that, and I didn’'t want to let go of my purse. When I thought I’'d have to say no, Natalie Hayward came over. “"Can I help, Ms. Cutler?”" she asked as she got behind Goodwin’'s chair and started pushing him toward the door. Okay, Goodwin had been in the guesthouse with Vinney and Lolique that night, and what I didn’'t know about him bothered me more than what I knew. But he didn’'t have a lot of choices in life, because he was stuck in that chair.

“"Coming?”" Natalie asked.

I checked the clock on the wall. Ten minutes till Werner arrived. Since the police were on their way, I figured I could chance it. “"A short walk,”" I said.

“"I’'m not sure that’'s a good idea,”" McDowell called after us.

“"You wouldn’'t think so,”" I said beneath my breath as I walked beside Goodwin’'s chair.

He chuckled. “"You hate the bastard as much as I do, don’'t you?”"

“"That transparent, am I?”"

“"You’'re utterly transparent, Ms. Cutler, in a challenging sort of way.”" What did that mean?

“"We have some wildflowers behind the addition. Natalie, go around by the side of the building. It’'s gorgeous back there in the fall.”"

“"Mr. Goodwin,”" I cautioned, “"I don’'t think you want to be gone too long this morning.”"

“"Why’'s that, eh?”"

I smiled. “"I know nothing.”"

“"You certainly don’'t,”" Lolique said, waiting for us as we rounded the building. She held a small gun in her hand, and Natalie didn’'t blink or miss a step when she saw it.

I hesitated. “"Mr. Goodwin?”"

“"Ms. Cutler,”" he said. “"You disappoint me. I thought you were such a quick study. Natalie Hayward has been in my employ since this branch of the dealership opened. She keeps me abreast of current events.”"

“"He pays very well,”" Natalie said. “"Very, very well.”"

“"You’'re his mole?”" I said. “"Wait! You pushed me and pretended to save me?”" Their silence spoke volumes. With the gun, Lolique indicated my path toward the woods. “"Keep going,”" she said. “"Don’'t stop now.”" That’'s when I saw it across the field on the outskirts of the woods: an old-fashioned wishing-type well, where I knew that wishes were useless. “"Are you going to throw me in there, too?”" I asked, the past becoming clearer when I noticed his tigereye ring. Lolique had been right. I was a duped dope.

She chuckled. “"Don’'t look at me. I didn’'t throw Isobel in there. She died before I was born.”"

“"But you’'re the woman who was seen sneaking in and out of the playhouse, aren’'t you?”"

Lolique scoffed. “"No, that was my mother, before the locals caught on to her presence and she accepted the role they handed her as Sampson’'s sister. She’'d moved in with him, again.”"

“"Without bothering to break off her affair with me,”" Goodwin said.

“"Poor you,”" I said, tongue-in-cheek to Gary. “"And what about you, Natalie?

Why?”"

“"True, I hated Isobel,”" Natalie said. “"Daddy’'s little girl, keeping watch, so no one could get close to him.”"

I’'d taken sewing lessons from this woman! “"You had a thing for Isobel’'s father?”"

“"What if I did? I didn’'t kill anyone.”"

Goodwin chuckled. “"Natalie would have helped if she could have cozied up to the old man, but she didn’'t know what I planned. She’'s been my most loyal helper.”"

“"Thanks loads, Dad,”" Lolique snapped.

“"Natalie’'s not as loyal as you think,”" I told Goodwin. “"She’'s a gossip. Told me the first day about your accident, about how badly you wanted the dealership. She’'s not loyal at all.”"

Goodwin whipped around to look at Natalie, now looking daggers at me. If only I could make the three of them duke it out and forget about me.

“"And your daughter, Mr. Goodwin. You must be so proud.”"

“"My stepdaughter,”" he said.

“"Thanks again. Okay, so Sampson was my biological father. Rich as God. And my stupid-ass stepbrother goes and kills him before he can change his will in my favor. He paid, though. Keep pushing, Natalie.”"

“"So that’'s why you killed Vinney, Lolique? Revenge?”"

“"What an amazing hypothesis,”" she said.

“"
Not
a hypothesis. Vinney ratted you out. He called Eve and gave you up with his last breath.”" I was lying of course, but she didn’'t know that. “"And as for Sampson’'s money, you may still get it, now that the truth about his divorce to your mother is out. I’'m sure there’'ll be
something
left after the IRS takes their share. Years’' worth of back taxes, I hear.”"

She stopped walking and stood still as a snake about to strike. I so wish she’'d point that gun in another direction.

I had to break her, though. “"You see, your father was selling his corner lot because he had to. You and your mother climbed out from beneath your respective rocks to finesse a man headed to prison for tax evasion.”"

Lolique gave a feral hiss through her teeth, and I felt fear and fury radiating off her in waves, small consolation since we were getting closer to the well, too close. “"You killed Vinney for nothing, except, hey, maybe you’'ll inherit your father’'s debt, anyway?”"

“"Vinney was a son of a bitch. He was supposed to pin that second fire, the one we
planned
, on my husband by planting his sweater with the bones. Does he do that? No. He kills my father to start an unplanned fire, sic the law on us, and ruin my chances to inherit Sampson’'s and McDowell’'s fortunes. Two fortunes! Vinney deserved to die.”"

“"So you killed him.”"

She raised her head with pride. “"So I killed him.”"

“"Vinney was a good son,”" Goodwin said almost to himself, and I understood suddenly his stay on the psych ward, as if he lived in a different world than the rest of us. He looked up at me, but I’'m not sure he saw me. “"Vinney took the bones out of your building for me.”"

I remembered Dante’'s story of the night the bones were brought to my building . . . Goodwin brought them. Dante taunted him, and he left so shaken he had a car accident, and ended up in a wheel chair in a psych ward. Puzzle pieces were falling into place like clockwork toys, click, click, click.

Goodwin’'s face changed and he radiated hate. “"Why the hell did you go and buy that old shack?”"

My heart beat like a drum, and my hands were so sweaty it was getting hard to keep a grasp on my bag.

My connection to Isobel grew strong, and her fate fell into place. “"You put Isobel here when this was an empty lot, didn’'t you? Before construction here was a glimmer in Zachary Goodwin’'s eye.”"

“"I should have put her husband here with her,”" Goodwin said. “"While I was dropping her here, McDowell was having drinks with her father, outlining the brilliance of building a second dealership on this very piece of land. I’'d thought it was smart to put her on land that her old man owned. But the old man and McDowell, they planned to build here in secret. Kept projected ledgers. No one knew. Not even Isobel. She told me that she thought her husband was embezzling.”"

Click. Another puzzle piece fell into place.

The closer we got to the well, the harder my heart pumped, the more slippery my hands became. I could barely keep a grasp on my bag. But if I moved it, everyone would know how heavy it was.

I wanted to use it, but I had three targets. One with a gun.

I’'d keep Goodwin talking and wait for my best shot, because the more he talked, the slower we walked.

Werner should be at the dealership by now. Would he look for me?

“"Why
did
you kill Isobel, Mr. Goodwin?”"

“"For the dealership, dammit. I’'m blood. Her father said it would be mine when he died.”"

“"Why isn’'t it yours, then?”"

Five feet from the well.

“"McDowell became his right hand, his expansion idea put him in favor, and his grief at Isobel’'s loss
appeared
to match her father’'s. Then, when Isobel goes missing, the old man has a stroke, and who takes him in? McDowell.”"