Let Me Call You Sweetheart (27 page)

Maddie's heavy monotone reply was, "I'll have ready for you. You can count on me."
Frank Green was trying a case, and it was noon before Kerry was able to inform him of Smith's murder and the Federal Express packet she had received from him late that morning. She was fully composed now and wondered why she had allowed herself to lose control when Geoff had phoned. But her emotions were something that she would explore later. For now, the knowledge that Joe Palumbo was parked outside Robin's school, waiting to escort her home and then stand watch at the house until Kerry got home, was enough to help relieve her immediate fears.
Green went carefully through the contents of the jewelry box comparing each piece with those Smith had mentioned in the letter he had included in the package to Kerry. "Zodiac bracelet," he read. "That's right here. Watch with gold numerals, ivory face, diamond and gold band. Okay. Here it is. Emerald and diamond ring set in pink gold. That's right here. Antique diamond bracelet. Three bands of diamonds attached by diamond clasps." He held it up. "That's a beauty."
"Yes. You may remember Suzanne was wearing that bracelet when she was murdered. There was one more piece, antique diamond pin or double pin, that Skip Reardon had described. Dr. Smith doesn't mention it, and apparently he didn't have it, but Geoff just faxed me a picture from a local newspaper showing Suzanne wearing that pin only a few weeks before she died. It never showed up in the items found at the house. You can see that it's very much like the bracelet and obviously an antique. The other pieces are beautiful, but very modern in design."
Kerry looked closely at the blurred reproduction and understood why Deidre Reardon had described it as evoking a mother-and-child image. As she'd explained, the pin appeared to be in two parts, the larger being a flower, the smaller a bud. They were attached by a chain. She studied it for a moment, perplexed because it looked oddly familiar.
"We'll watch out for this pin to see if it is mentioned in Haskell's receipts," Green promised. "Now let's get this straight. As far as you know, everything the doctor mentioned, excluding this particular pin, is the total of the jewelry Suzanne asked the doctor to tell Skip he gave her?"
"According to what Smith wrote in his letter, and it does coincide with what Skip Reardon told me Saturday."
Green put down Smith's letter. "Kerry, do you think you might have been followed when you went to see Smith yesterday?"
"I think now I probably was. That's why I'm so concerned about Robin's safety."
"We'll keep a squad car outside your house tonight, but I wouldn't be unhappy to have you and Robin out of there and in some more secure place with all this coming to a head. Jimmy Weeks is a cornered animal. Royce may be able to tie him to tax fraud, but with what you've uncovered, we may be able to tie him to a murder."
"You mean because of the card Jimmy sent with the sweetheart roses?" The card was already being analyzed by handwriting experts, and Kerry had reminded Green of the paper found in Haskell's lawyer's pocket after both men had been murdered.
"Exactly. No clerk in a flower shop drew those musical notes. Imagine describing an inscription like that over the phone. From what I understand, Weeks is a pretty good amateur musician. The life of the party when he sits down at the piano. That kind. With that card--and if the jewelry ties in to those receipts--the Reardon case is a whole new ball game.
"And if Skip is granted a new trial, he'll be entitled to release on bail pending that trial--or dismissal of the charges," said evenly.
"If the scenario plays out, I'll recommend that," Green agreed.
"Frank, there's one other point I have to raise," Kerry said. "We know that Jimmy Weeks is trying to scare us off this investigation. But it may be for some reason other than we think. I have learned that Weeks picked up Skip Reardon's options on valuable Pennsylvania property when Skip had to liquidate. He apparently had inside information, so there's a good chance whole transaction was illegal. It's certainly not as major a crime as murder--and we still don't know, of course; he may have been Suzanne's killer--but if the IRS had that information, with the tax evasion charges and what-have-you, Weeks could be put away for a long time as it is."
"And you think he's worried that your probing into the Reardon murder case might expose those earlier deals?" Green asked.
"Yes, it's very possible."
"But do you really think that is sufficient to make him threaten you through Robin? That seems a little extreme to me." Green shook his head.
"Frank, from what I have learned from my ex-husband, Weeks is ruthless enough and arrogant enough to go to almost any lengths to protect himself, and it would make no difference what the charge--it could be murder or it could be stealing a newspaper. But all this aside, there's still another reason why the murder scenario may not play out, even if we can tie Jimmy Weeks to Suzanne," Kerry said. Then she began to fill him in on Jason Arnott's connection to Suzanne and Grace Hoover's theory that he was a professional thief.
"Even if he is, are you tying him to Suzanne Reardon's murder?" Green asked.
"I'm not sure," Kerry said slowly. "It depends on whether or not he is involved in those thefts."
"Sit tight. We can get that flyer faxed in from the FBI right away," Green decreed as he pressed the intercom. "We'll find out who's running the investigation."
Less than five minutes later his secretary brought in the flyer. Green pointed out the confidential number. "Tell them to put me through to the top guy on this."
Sixty seconds later, Green was on the phone with Si Morgan. He turned on the phone's speaker so that Kerry could listen too.
"It's breaking now," Morgan told him. "Arnott has another place, in the Catskills. We've decided to ring the doorbell and see if the housekeeper will talk to us. We'll keep you posted."
Kerry gripped the arms of her chair and turned her head toward the detached voice coming out of the speaker phone. "Mr. Morgan, this is terribly important. If you can still contact your agent, ask him to inquire about a miniature oval picture frame. It's blue enamel with seed pearls surrounding the glass. It may or may not hold a picture of a beautiful dark-haired woman. If it's there, we'll be able to connect Jason Arnott to a murder case."
"I can still reach him. I'll have him ask about it, and I'll get back to you," he promised.
"What was that about?" Green asked as he snapped off the speaker.
"Skip Reardon has always sworn that a miniature frame that was a Faberg‚ copy disappeared from the master bedroom the day Suzanne died. That and the antique pin are the two things we can't account for as of now." Kerry leaned over and picked up the diamond bracelet. "Look at this. It's from a different world from the other jewelry." She held up the picture of Suzanne wearing the antique pin. "Isn't it funny? I feel as though I've seen a pin like that before, I mean the little one joined to the big one. It may just be because it came up repeatedly in statements from Skip and his mother at the of the investigation. I've read that file until I'm dizzy."
She laid the bracelet back in the case. "Jason Arnott spent great deal of time with Suzanne. Maybe he wasn't the neuter he tried to make himself out to be. Think of it this way, Frank. Let's say he fell for Suzanne too. He gave her the antique pin and the bracelet. It's exactly the kind of jewelry he would select. Then he realized that she was fooling around with Jimmy Weeks. Maybe he came in that night and saw the sweetheart roses and the card we believe Jimmy sent."
"You mean he killed her and took back the pin?"
"And her picture. From what Mrs. Reardon tells me, it's a beautiful frame."
"Why not the bracelet?"
"While I was waiting for you this morning, I looked at the pictures taken of the body before it was moved. Suzanne had a gold link bracelet on her left hand. You can see it in the picture. The diamond bracelet, which was on the other arm, doesn't show. I checked the records. It was pushed up on her arm under the sleeve of her blouse so that it wasn't visible. According to the medical examiner's report it had a new and very tight security clasp. She may have shoved the bracelet out of sight because had changed her mind about wearing it and was having trouble getting it off, or she may have been aware that her attacker had come to retrieve it, probably because it was a gift from him, and she may have been hiding it. Whatever the reason, it worked, because he didn't find it."
While they waited for Morgan to call back, Green and Kerry worked together to prepare a flyer, with pictures of the jewelry in question, that would be distributed to New Jersey jewelers.
At one point Frank observed, "Kerry, you do realize that if Mrs. Hoover's hunch works out, it means that a tip from our state senator's wife will have caught the murderer of Congressman Peale's mother. Then if Arnott is tied to the Reardon case..."
Frank Green, gubernatorial candidate, Kerry thought. He's already figuring how to sugarcoat having convicted an innocent man! Well, that's politics, I guess, she told herself.
Maddie Platt was not aware of the car that followed her when she stopped at the market and did the shopping, carefully gathering all the items she had been instructed to get. Nor did she notice it continued to follow her when she drove farther out of Ellenville, down narrow, winding roads to the rambling country house owned by the man she knew as Nigel Grey.
She let herself in and ten minutes later was startled when the doorbell rang. Nobody ever dropped in at this house. Furthermore, Mr. Grey had given her strict orders never to admit anyone. She was not about to open the door without knowing who it was.
When she peeked out the side window she saw the neatly dressed man standing on the top step. He saw her and held up a badge identifying him as an FBI agent. "FBI, ma'am. Would you please open the door so I can talk to you?"
Nervously, Maddie opened the door. Now she stood inches from the badge showing the unmistakable FBI seal and identifying picture of the agent.
"Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm FBI agent Milton Rose. I don't mean to startle or upset you, but it's very important that I speak with you about Mr. Jason Arnott. You are his housekeeper, aren't you?"
"Sir, I don't know any Mr. Arnott. This house is owned by Mr. Nigel Grey, and I've worked for him for many years. He's due here this afternoon, in fact he should be here shortly. And I can tell you right now--I am under strict orders not to ever let anyone in this house without his permission."
"Ma'am, I'm not asking to come in. I don't have a search warrant. But I still need to talk to you. Your Mr. Grey is really Jason Arnott, whom we suspect has been responsible for dozens of burglaries involving fine art and other valuable items. He might even be responsible for the murder of a congressman's elderly mother, who may have surprised him during the burglary of her home."
"Oh my God," Maddie gasped. Certainly Mr. Grey had always been completely a loner here, but she had just assumed that this Catskill home was where he escaped to for privacy and relaxation. She now realized that he might well have been "escaping" here for very different reasons.
Agent Rose went on to describe to her many of the stolen pieces of art and other items that had disappeared from homes where Arnott had previously attended social functions. Sadly, she confirmed that virtually all of these items were in this house. And, yes, the miniature oval blue frame encrusted with seed pearls, with a woman's picture in it, was on his night table.
"Ma'am, we know that he will be here soon. I must ask you to come with us. I'm sure you didn't know what was happening, and you're not in any trouble. But we are going to make a telephone application for a search warrant so that we can search Mr. Arnott's home and arrest him."
Gently, Agent Rose led the bewildered Maddie to the waiting car. "I can't believe this," she cried. "I just didn't know."
At twelve-thirty, a frightened Martha Luce, who for twenty years had been bookkeeper to James Forrest Weeks, sat twisting a damp handkerchief as she cowered in the office of U.S. Attorney Brandon Royce.
The sworn statement she had given to Royce months ago had just been read back to her.
"Do you stand by what you told us that day?" Royce asked as he tapped the papers in his hand.
"I told the truth as far as I knew it to be the truth," Martha told him, her voice barely above a whisper. She cast a nervous sidelong glance at the stenotypist and then at her nephew, a young attorney, whom she had called in a panic when she learned of the successful search of Barney Haskell's home.
Royce leaned forward. "Miss Luce, I cannot emphasize strongly enough how very serious your position is. If you continue to lie under oath, you do so at your own peril. We have enough to bury Jimmy Weeks. I'll lay out my cards. Since Barney Haskell has unfortunately been so abruptly taken from us, it will be helpful to have you as a living witness"--he emphasized the word "living"--"to corroborate the accuracy of his records. If you do not, we will still convict Jimmy Weeks, but then, Miss Luce, we will turn our full attention to you. Perjury is a very serious offense. Obstructing justice is a very serious offense. Aiding and abetting income tax evasion is a very serious offense."
Martha Luce's always timid face crumbled. She began to sob. Tears that immediately reddened her pale blue eyes welled and flowed. "Mr. Weeks paid every single bill when Mama was sick for such a long time."
"That's nice," Royce said. "But he did it with taxpayers' money."
"My client has a right to remain silent," the nephew/attorney piped up.
Royce gave him a withering glance. "We've already established that, counselor. You might also advise your client that we're not crazy about putting middle-aged women with misguided loyalties in prison. We're prepared, this one--and only this one--time, to offer total immunity to your client in exchange for full cooperation. After that, she's on her own. But you remind your client"--here Royce's voice was heavy with sarcasm--"that Barney Haskell waited so long to accept a plea bargain offer that he never got to take it."
"Total immunity?" the nephew/lawyer asked.
"Total, and we'll immediately put Ms. Luce in protective custody. We don't want anything to happen to her."
"Aunt Martha... "the young man began, his voice cracking.
She stopped sniffling. "I know, dear. Mr. Royce, perhaps I always suspected that Mr. Weeks..."
The news that a cache had been found in a hidden safe in Barney Haskell's summer home was, to Bob Kinellen, the death knell of any hope of getting Jimmy Weeks an acquittal. Even Kinellen's father-in-law, the usually unruffleable Anthony Bartlett, was clearly beginning to concede the inevitable.