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Authors: Ellen Hart

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Cozy, #Lesbian, #Women Sleuths

The Cruel Ever After (26 page)

BOOK: The Cruel Ever After
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29

At the Hennepin County jail the next morning, Jane sat down across from Chess at the far end of an institutional anteroom, a new, unwelcome hardness in the center of her stomach. She didn’t want to be here. She never wanted to see Chess again, and yet she had to come.

Separated by a Plexiglas wall, speaking to each other via phones attached to the side walls, they worked their way through the formalities. Jane touched the Plexiglas, saw where others had left fingerprints behind. The surface was hard, practical, oppressive. It was, of course, meant to protect the visitor from the visited. In this case, however, it was the other way around.

Chess looked awful, his face puffy, his hair disheveled. He tried gamely to smile, to shrug off his current condition, even to make light of it, but they both knew it was an act. The odd thing was, he did seem happy to see her.

“I tried to phone you right away, he said, but they told me I couldn’t make any calls.”

“Now that you’ve been charged and arraigned you can.” She tried with little success to drain the coldness from her voice.

“It’s so good to see you. What happened to your nose? It’s all bruised.”

The comment made her appreciate how utterly removed he was from what his sudden reappearance had done to her life. “You have no clue what it’s been like for me the last couple of days.”

“For you?”

“I was attacked in the Lyme House parking lot on Saturday night. Two guys have been staking out the place. I didn’t find out why until I got jumped. The man wanted me to tell him where my husband was.”

Both eyebrows shot up. “I never thought—”

“What? That the people who are after you would come after me? What are you mixed up in?”

“Jane, look—” He ran a hand over his unshaven face. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

The anger inside her exploded. “Let me help. Why did you send me fake divorce papers?”

“I didn’t know they were fake, I swear. Not until years later, when I was thinking about marrying someone. I gave the divorce decree to my lawyer, and he told me they were no good.”

“And you didn’t think it might be nice to let me know?”

“Why? I never intended to come back.”

“Do you ever think about anyone but you? All that talk about solidarity—gays and lesbians sticking together. I felt sorry for you, thought you’d been wronged by your parents. Sure I wanted the money you offered, but that’s not why I agreed to marry you. For all I know, you’re not even gay.”

His eyes skirted away.

What he’d just said finally penetrated. “You were going to get
married
? To a woman? It was
all
a lie? What did I ever do to you, Chess?” It took every ounce of her self-control not to stand up and scream at him. “The cops think you not only killed Dial but Morgana Beck. It’s all about that gold artifact, right? You turn my entire life upside down by showing up and you have the nerve to sit there and smile at me? Who the hell
are
you?”

“You know who I am. Jane, please—”

“We made today’s
Star Tribune,
in case you’re interested. It wasn’t the headline, but the article was on the front page. Want to know the lead?”

“Don’t.”


Daughter of Raymond Lawless Once Married to Accused Killer
. Don’t you just love that? Has a nice titillating ring, don’t you think? I wonder what they’ll do when they find out we’re still married? Why did you have to come back here, Chess? Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”

“If you’ll just give me a chance, I can explain.”

“You must think I’m pathetic. Stupid, wide-eyed, gullible Jane.”

“I don’t.”

“Well,
I
think I’m pathetic. Why did I allow myself to be taken in by someone like you? What’s wrong with me that I could be so credulous?” She felt gutted, like her insides had been clawed out and tossed on the floor. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice … that’s where we’re at. I invited you into my home again, even asked you to come to my father’s birthday party. What did you do? You spent the evening trying to swindle my friends with that crap you sell.”

“I did no such thing.”

“Julia? The cylinder seal?”

“She was the only person I talked to about it—and it’s worth every penny.”

“And we know that
because
? Because you said so? Because you showed her some fake provenance papers? We all know what your word is worth.”

“Stop.”

“The first time around, you bribed me with money. This time, you gave me a ring.” She pulled the gold snake off her index finger and held it up. “Get it in a Cracker Jack box, Chess?” She turned and hurled it against the concrete wall behind her.

“You’re angry. I don’t blame you. But the ring is real. So is the cylinder seal.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said, barely controlling her fury. “Not that it matters. Julia stopped payment on the check yesterday morning.”

His lips thinned, tightened. “She shouldn’t have done that. I need to get out of here, and fast.”

“Why? So you can hightail it out of Dodge?”

He put his hand up to the Plexiglas and spoke softly, but with more feeling. “I swear to you on everything I love, I didn’t kill Dial or Morgana Beck. I’m innocent. I may bend the truth more than I should. I’m not proud of that. But I’m not a murderer.”

“Then who did kill them? What’s going on? Why are those men following you?”

He rested his head against his hand. “They want the bull.”

Something she already knew. She just wanted to see if he would feed her another lie. “Who are they?”

“At first, I thought maybe Dial’s next-door neighbor might have had something to do with it. Something about him struck me as phony. His name’s Smith. He said he’d lost his job, that he and his wife were having a tough time financially. The problem is, he saw me coming out of Dial’s door last Wednesday around noon. I’d just found Dial dead in the living room and tried to leave without anybody seeing me.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You told me that you went back to Dial’s house on Wednesday because you realized you’d left your passport there. Nobody was around, but the door was unlocked.”

“I, ah, bent the truth a little there. I had to. I thought if I told you what really happened, you wouldn’t believe me, and you wouldn’t ask your father to represent me.”

This guy was unbelievable. “Go on.”

“Like I said, we played poker on Tuesday night. I got drunk and ended up outside, in the backyard. I must have been trying to get into the hot tub, but keeled over right next to it and fell asleep. I woke up on the concrete walk next to the tub on Wednesday about noon, went into the house, and found that it had been ransacked. Dial was on the floor in the living room. He’d been knifed. I would have been killed, too, I’m sure of it, if whoever got in had found me. It was just a stroke of luck that I’d wandered outside. I thought that maybe I could get away from the house without anybody knowing I’d been there. I left by the front door. About the same time, the neighbor, Smith, came out on his front steps to get his newspaper.”

“Are you saying you thought he’d killed Dial?”

“I don’t know, but something about him seemed off. Not that it matters. After thinking about it for the last few days, I came to the conclusion that someone else is after me. Three people to be exact. There’s a story that’s been making the rounds of antiquities dealers for almost a year. Three people, an Englishwoman living in Italy, an Egyptian professor of ancient history, and an ex-major in the Iraqi army, have formed a cabal to hunt down the antiquities stolen from the Baghdad Museum, and the thieves who did the stealing. Dealers and buyers have been killed mysteriously all over the world—in alleys, pushed off buildings, drowned in swimming pools. These people are ruthless, single-minded, and apparently have money.”

“Go back for a second.
You
stole the bull?”

“No, not me. But yes, it was taken illegally. I knew that when I bought it. I hoped I could keep it. It felt—you’re going to think I’m crazy—but it was like I’d owned it before in a previous life. Like I had a right to it.”

“You are a world-class liar, even to yourself.”

“Maybe I am, but I’ve always been drawn to the past, to the Middle East and Egypt. Particularly to Babylon. That’s where I first landed on this earth, took my first breath. You don’t believe me, I can see that. It’s fine. There’s no reason you should. But haven’t you ever been drawn to something not entirely rational?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“No, it’s not. It’s about me, what I did to you that I never intended. I’m sorry, Jane.”

That was too easy. “You came to the Twin Cities to sell the bull.”

“To Dial, yeah.”

“Did he know it was stolen?”

Chess gave a noncommittal shrug. “We weren’t doing anything others haven’t been doing for millennia. But he was killed before we could make the exchange, the money for the statue. I assume that whoever is searching for it thought Morgana must know something about it, too. She didn’t.”

“So you tried to sell it to Julia.”

“I’d sell it to anybody for the right price.”

“Okay, let’s talk about that. The ‘right’ price, as you put it.”

This was the moment of truth. She removed a piece of yellow legal paper from her back pocket. “Yesterday, my brother’s little girl went missing. Her name is Mia. She’s eleven. We thought she’d run away. She’d done it before. But this morning I found this.” She unfolded it, held it up to the Plexiglas so he could read it.

“I don’t have my glasses. What’s it say?”

With a trembling hand, she spread it out on the small counter in front of her. The note was written in black ink, all caps. “ ‘Mrs. Garrity,’ ” she read, clearing her throat, trying to tamp back the tears burning her eyes. “ ‘We have your little girl. We will not hurt her if you give us what we want. An even trade. The girl for the bull. If you contact the police, you will never see the girl again. We are not unreasonable, but we will tolerate no interference. You have forty-eight hours. We will contact you about the exchange. We are not amateurs. If we feel our safety is compromised, you will not hear from us again.’ ”

Jane looked up.

Chess’s face had turned ashen.

“You have to give them what they want.”

“I can’t.”

She felt her anger heat up again, like a boiling wave crashing over her. “Even
you
can’t be that callous.”

“I don’t know where it is. I gave it to Irina to keep it safe.”

“Irina Nelson? Morgana Beck’s daughter? She was in on this?”

“She put it in a safety deposit box, but for some reason, she removed it and hid it in the basement of the gallery. We went to get it on Saturday night and it was gone.”

Jane’s skin felt suddenly too tight.

“The only person who had access to the basement, other than Irina and her mother, was a man named Majid Farrow. It has to be him. He works there. I was planning to talk to him on Sunday afternoon, offer to cut him into the deal—or beat the crap out of him until he told me where he’d hidden it—but I was arrested.”

She struggled to compose herself. “Majid? The manager?”

“You know him?”

“We’ve met.”

“But see, your niece … that’s even more reason why you have to help me get out of here.”

She knew it would come down to this. “You’ll leave if I do.”

“I won’t leave, Jane. I promise you. I’ll stay and do everything I can to help find the bull.”

“And then you’ll leave with it.”

“I won’t!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Jane, please. I’m the only one who can find it.”

“I’ve got two days.” She hung up the phone, pushed away from the table, and got up.

When Chess began pounding on the Plexiglas, a man came out of a side door and grabbed his arms, yanking him out of his chair. He was still yelling, still waving at her to come back, when she turned and left the room.

30

Chess bent over the telephone, keeping his voice low. The guard had made it clear that he couldn’t talk long.

“Irina, it’s me.” He could hear a gasp.

“I thought you’d left. Why didn’t you return any of my calls?”

“I was arrested. For Dial’s murder.”

“I haven’t seen a news broadcast in days, or read a newspaper. Oh, Chess, that’s awful, but it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Have you made any progress finding the … you know?”

“Sorry, no. Oh, baby, where are you?”

“The Hennepin County jail.”

“Are you okay?”

“The bail was set at a million dollars. I need to put up one hundred thousand to get out. You’ve got to help me. Did your inheritance come through yet? You could put up the gallery for collateral.”

She didn’t say anything for several seconds. “I’m in the waiting room at my mother’s lawyer’s office. We’re going over the trust documents this morning. I don’t know how long it will take for my mom’s assets to be transferred to me, but as soon as I have the money, I’ll get you out.”

“I’m dying to see you.”

“Oh,” she said, sighing into the phone, “I’m so glad you called. Wait.”

He heard some rustling, a door closing. “What’s going on?”

“I left the office because I didn’t want Misty to overhear. I found out something important. Remember we thought Majid was the only other person with a key to the gallery? Misty has one. Mom gave it to her because she wanted her to start working there part-time. She’s had it for at least a week.”

This was a major break. “And she needs money badly. Sure, that makes sense. Maybe she went down to the basement to look around. She found the statue and took it.”

“Or gave it to one of her slimy friends. If that’s the case, we may never see it again.”

Chess refused to give up that easily.

“You have no idea how crazy these last few days have been for me. I left Steve, moved in with Misty, but I couldn’t stay there. I’ll tell you about it when we have more time. I’m living on my mom’s houseboat at the moment. I’m terrified those people who killed Dial and my mom will find me. Plus I have Dusty to protect. I’ve been so careful about his environment ever since he was born. Now I’ve had to move him twice in two days.”

BOOK: The Cruel Ever After
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