Twillyweed (36 page)

“We'd have to set everyone up in the dining room then, so the treasure could be paraded past them in the distance and then up the great staircase.”

“Say! I've got an antique music box just the right size,” Jenny Rose cried. “The only one who ever saw it was Patsy Mooney. It was Mrs. Whitetree's back in Ireland so I never bring it out. But it's brilliant. It would make an alluring holdall. From a distance one might even think it's the volvelle. Or one like it. What do you say?”

“We might have a dinner party. It's the only way to get everyone together. Suppose we invited the appraiser to stay for the race and then go back to the city. That would give the thief time to come and snatch the stuff and still go back and join the race and think no one would miss him. He or she wouldn't be able to resist! He'd have to fall for it!”

“It might just work. How would we catch him?”

“I suppose we'd better let the police in on our little plan.”

“You think they'll go along with it?”

“We've got to take this to them now, anyway. We've got no choice.”

“But who can we get to play the appraiser? No detective would fool a jewel thief.”

“You're right.”

“Don't you know someone we could pass off as an appraiser?”

“Not likely.”

We sat there.

“Wait a minute!” It came to me. “Jupiter Dodd!”

“Who's that?”

“My old boss.”

“Is he good and posh?”

“As it gets. If anyone can play the part, he can. And I'll bet he'd love to do it.” I opened my cell phone and plunked in Jupiter's number. “I hope he's still around! He might have left for the Hamptons! … Oh! Jupiter? Hi, it's Claire. Listen, I've changed my mind about you coming out here on your way out east. And I even have a grand house for you to stay in. Yeah. There's just one catch. You've got to pretend to be an appraiser from Sotheby's. That's right. You would?” I winked at Jenny Rose. “Of course you would! You're an angel! All right, now here's the plan …”

Chapter Eight

Claire and Jenny Rose

Jupiter Dodd arrived at sunset in a Bentley convertible, top down. I'd never seen anything so scrumptious: powder blue with cream leather interior. He wore a navy linen jacket, a Troy Donahue yellow ascot under a crisp white starched Irish linen shirt, and he carried a butter-soft attaché case. I trotted down the drive and could have kissed him. Holding his nose up, he ascended from his perch, giving a curt, deliberate bow. “Watch the fingerprints on the car,” he said. “It belongs to a Saudi princess. If she finds out I borrowed it, they'll chop off one of my hands!” He twiddled fingernails in the air. “And I've just had them done. Oh, and let's pretend my name is Phillip Montrose. I clipped it from the personnel roster at Sotheby's. He sounded rather high up.”

I escorted Jupiter into the library where I introduced Paige and Oliver, praying they wouldn't smell a rat. I needn't have worried. Having worked as an editor in both fine arts and fashion magazines, Jupiter can outsnob the best of them. Oliver had sent Radiance off to the dry cleaner's to pick up his light green Polo sports jacket and then made sure Mr. Piet had his velvet Cole Hahn slip-ons well brushed. Paige, I noticed, had gotten her hair done. They stood there ready as rabbits. I almost felt sorry for them. Paige, perfumed and looking lovely in a fitted luminous oyster sheath and pearls, took Jupiter upstairs to the blue room, once their parents' bedroom and still the best room, quite a tribute in itself, and we now had the lot of them all assembled in the library where they sat around chatting excitedly. Mr. Piet had poached a huge salmon with garlic butter and dill on a cedar plank and the aromas floating from the kitchen were mouthwatering. He'd talked Radiance into helping him serve and she'd outfitted herself in his butler's garb, pinched at the waistline with a thick patent leather belt. It was an odd crew, with Mrs. Dellaverna avoiding everyone and everyone avoiding her. She sat in the window seat with her embroidery, still not sure why she'd been invited. Glinty lounged in and out of the shadows. Darlene Lassiter especially kept her distance. Because Darlene worked at the rectory, she had first dibs on whatever clothes contributions came in from the great North Shore houses and she looked, from her secondhand designer suit to the jeweled pin on her lapel, all the world like a gold coast dragoness.

There was Daniel, his long platinum hair in a stringy ponytail. Paige had put him in one of Oliver's old tweed jackets and it hung pitifully loose. He refused to wear any shoes but flip-flops, and his horny toenails were atrocious, but he was wearing his teeth, a plus. And, of course, Teddy. Teddy always looked appropriate. And sweet. Everyone gossiped about the next morning's race, except Daniel, who was so captivated by Mr. Piet's aspic canapés that he gobbled them all up before anyone else could get a taste.

Jenny Rose and I had it all precisely planned. When everyone was seated at the dinner table and the room was drenched in candlelight, she was to carry her music box filled with the buttons—the lid underneath like a Persian serving plate—through the crowded room and up the stairs to the privacy of the blue room for Jupiter Dodd's after-dinner inspection, from which he would emerge in delight over what he would deign a precious find.

We hadn't reckoned on the daylight taking so long to disappear, however, and had to keep urging Mr. Piet to delay each course. At last the crash of yellow sunset oozed into the sea, and the air became soft and lavender. The gloaming, Morgan called it, sitting there on a velvet chair looking like a prince from the highlands. Conversation had grown a little thin. Jupiter said, “That's a lovely grandmother clock you have in your kitchen, Ms. Cupsand.”

Jenny Rose and I looked at each other with fright.

Paige said, “Yes, isn't it pretty? And please do call me Paige.”

“About 1750, isn't it?” Jupiter said.

“Really?” Paige said. “How can you be sure?”

Jupiter frowned knowingly. “Well, because it has a moon phase, we know it's after 1720. They didn't make them before that. Now, the dials are made of brass and they have those little silver decorations. They kept making
them
only until about 1770. That lets me know it can't be later than that.”

Jenny Rose stood. “I think I'll just go tuck our Wendell into bed.”

Jupiter continued, “Did you notice how the Roman numeral VI on the clock face is placed upside down? Only the old girls have that. They turned them upright after 1850. And all the early pieces used the Roman numeral
IIII
instead of
IV
for four.”

“Really!” Oliver said.

“How enlightening!” Paige marveled, and then everyone was joining in.

“Where did you dig that up?” I whispered when no one was near.

“In the public library,” Jupiter whispered back, winking. “Kovels'
Know Your Antiques
.”

It wasn't until after dinner when Mr. Piet danced in the crêpe suzette, its pan aflame, that Jenny Rose made her sudden appearance with the make-believe treasure. Because the flaming suzette was such a hit and warranted everyone's attention and applause, I thought Jenny Rose would have to come close to make sure everyone had a glimpse of the loot. But the room literally stopped at her entrance. She looked, standing there at the threshold until she had everyone's attention, like a younger version of Carmela. I had to blink twice to ascertain it
was
Jenny Rose. Her short hair was pulled back off her face with gel into a kind of medieval veil and she'd dressed up in some sort of Moroccan costume. She carried a glimmering tumble of what seemed to be antique platinum and gold fitted gems. Just then, something neither of us had anticipated occurred. The music box began to emit a sudden tinkling of “The Waltz of the Flowers.” It was so haunting, so utterly theatrical, the tune drifting unbidden across the room. Surely everyone would realize it was a scam. But they didn't, they watched, mouths agape as the glittering “jewels” and Jenny Rose seemed to float across the living room to the hallway. I thought Glinty would fall from his chair. Even Morgan, whom I'd earmarked as sensible, sat knocked for a loop. Jupiter Dodd got up and adopted her by the elbow and they took the grand staircase, she with such Lady MacBethian poise that no one moved until they disappeared into the blue room.

The door opened and Jenny Rose emerged alone and descended the stairs.

“
Chi è quella bellissima ragazza?
” Mrs. Dellaverna marveled.

“It's Jenny Rose,” I whispered in her ear.

“Jenny Rose?
No!
” she protested.

Jenny Rose, taking her seat, shrugged with pleasure. “It's just an old thing I picked up in Istanbul.”

Everyone began to talk at once. Mr. Piet refilled the crystal glasses with a treasured Sancerre. I was on pins and needles and drank one down and then another. I wasn't the only one. Darlene Lassiter, I noticed, had lost her affected ladylike airs and was reverting back to the barmaid from Skibbereen, slouching with knees obscenely at their ease.

I said to Jenny Rose through gritted teeth, “Why are we doing this again?”

“It's a laugh, isn't it?” Jenny Rose gave me that Irish dare look, which I have to say was contagious—and I tried to relax. We were in charge, right? What could go wrong?

Wendell

The noise from the party tinkled up the stairs. Wendell opened his eyes just a slit. She was gone. He threw off his quilt. He was already dressed with his shoes on and all. He arranged his toys under his covers and made it look like he was in there, a very good idea he'd observed on TV. He put on his red corduroy jacket, eased the straps of his blue knapsack over his shoulders, and went to the window. Quiet as a mouse, he slid the window open and got up on the ledge. When the two men down past the garage strolled to the other side of the house and lit their cigarettes, he maneuvered himself out and scuttled down the trellis. Halfway down, the wood snapped and he grabbed hold of the vine, landing his feet on the wall of the house with a thunk. The vine was twice as strong as the rotting wood, and he held on for dear life.

Mr. Piet was alone in the kitchen with two orange cakes in the oven and a white restaurant tablecloth wrapped around him. He looked up. What was that? No. No, it was nothing; just those squirrels reeking havoc again on the old roof.

Wendell stirred and then lowered himself in slipping gulps—covered now in blossoms—all the way down to the lawn. As fast as his little legs would carry him, he crossed the yard and made his way down the cliff to the marina—and Teddy's old
Dream Boat
.

Claire

We moved outside and made good use of the veranda despite the damp air, all of us tipsy and talkative. Mr. Piet had dragged out the wrought-iron chairs, and Radiance had strewn twinkle lights and hung paper lanterns from the grapevines on the pergola and lit them with flickering votives. The sky was stars and whizzing clouds. Glinty had a scratched-up violin—a fiddle he called it—and from the corner under the trellis he played with an almost shocking beauty. I was both touched and unnerved by the deep looks he and Jenny Rose dealt each other, the music so moving it seemed somehow wrong for the others to go on talking and laughing. How could such a scamp be so skilled? But I reminded myself of his harsh words about Teddy and resumed my dislike.
He's jealous
, I said to myself.
Just look at Teddy there playing horseshoes with Mrs. Lassiter, as good-natured a fellow as you'd ever want to know
.

We were waiting for Jupiter Dodd to descend after his inspection, the staircase and doorway in full view through the glass doors. It was taking him long enough. We were all getting cold. I was beginning to think he'd fallen asleep and wished I'd never included him in our scheme. Oliver came over with a drink for me. Rye and ginger. He'd remembered. He went over and stood beside Mrs. Lassiter. She remarked, “It's nice to see Daniel here. I didn't know he could be social.”

I started to go inside but wanted to hear what he'd say and so I lingered behind them. Oliver sighed. “It's hard to tell with a guy like him. He was such a good kid.” He crunched a knuckle. “Before the accident, he was headed for a stellar life. I used to worship him, believe it or not. Still, off kilter as he is, to this day he'd never hurt a soul. There's no real bad in him. It was his wife, Janet. She was rotten. There's no other way to say it. I don't like to speak ill of the dead, but she had no conscience. She was just born without one.”

“There's them that are!” Mrs. Lassiter opened her purse and shut it. “At least he has his son.”

“Yeah, right.” He wiped his lip and looked away.

At last the door upstairs swung open. Jupiter looked more sad than happy, though, and that hadn't been in the plan. I didn't dare look at Jenny Rose. The wind had picked up and the paper lanterns blew sideways, making a noise like fluttering birds' wings. Already I could see Oliver shrink with disappointment, calculating how much he'd lain out for this feast. Jupiter minced down the stairs with such a morose look on his face that my heart began to pound. Carefully he opened and came through the French doors. Glinty stirred and sat beside Jenny Rose, taking her small hand in his.

“I'm so very sorry,” Jupiter began, painstakingly taking a seat in our midst. Was he going to sell us out? Paige shivered and Radiance put a caring arm around her shoulder. Oliver threw back his drink.

Jupiter said, “I'm afraid these artifacts are even older and more valuable than I was led to believe. They're quite out of my realm. I've telephoned my secretary. We'll have to wait for my associate to join us tomorrow.” He scowled into his drink then looked up through sparse brows. “Would that be all right, do you think?”

“Oh, yes!” everyone effused at once. I sank with relief. Oliver didn't even wait for Mr. Piet but breezed light-footed down to the cellar himself to find a more celebratory bottle. Everyone chattered and cigars were passed around and lit. It wasn't
that
cold everyone agreed. Jenny Rose's wicked eyes glowed and met mine across the starlit night.

Claire

The day of the race broke with a nice, brisk wind. I was up early and trying to enjoy my breakfast—expensive Greek yogurt with a little pot of honey attached—but Jake watched me reproachfully. “Oh, all right.” I gave in and let him have the rest. I let him out, washed and dressed quickly, let him in and made my way into town. The linden trees were in bloom and their perfume was intoxicating. Hearing voices and excitement, I went to the overlook, a good location for a broad view of the race. There was still plenty of time before the start, but already I could just feel the high spirits. I watched the villagers hurrying to set up their folding chairs and picnic baskets. At the dock below, sailors aboard their yachts threw good-natured insults at one another. I spotted Daniel down there at the marina, out on the farthermost dock. What was he doing there? He looked so strange standing at the end of the pier gazing out to sea and I figured I'd better go tell Paige. I sprinted off to Twillyweed, but then something happened that made me forget all about him.

Going up the gravel drive, I stopped in my tracks. An undercover cop car was parked sideways, all four doors open, winglike. A frightened-­looking Glinty, his hands cuffed behind him, was being ushered­ into a backseat with solemnity, the officer's hand holding his head down like on TV.

I watched them pull away and drive right past me. Not one of them looked at me.

Paige and Jupiter Dodd stood in the doorway. “What's going on?” I hollered.

“Claire!” she called. “You won't believe what's happened! They caught Glinty trying to steal the jewels from Father's room! Our Glinty!” She stamped her foot like a wounded adolescent. “I still can't believe it! I won't.”