“And what about all the paintings. Were you bringing them home, too?”
I sat back down and sighed. “So Sophie told you about them, huh?”
“Oh, she more than told me about them. She showed them to me. Quite the collection.”
“Yes it is and the last time I heard there was nothing wrong with collecting art.”
“Unless it gets you killed.”
“And you don’t know the art had anything at all to do with Humphrey’s death,” I said.
John stood up and took off his coat. He sat back down and his gray eyes soften. “No, I don’t. But it’s definitely a lead and you should have told me what you found.”
I leaned back in my chair. “We just found the stuff last night. I had some art gallery people look at it this morning and it seems to be valuable. They think it’s stuff that was taken by the Nazis because it was considered to be grotesque or something. John, what the hell does all this have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know. But I want to see what you found this morning.”
I reluctantly passed the papers to my husband and told him what I had managed to find out on the Internet, which wasn’t much. He gave them a quick look and then tucked them into his pocket. He took another handful of M&M’s, kissed me, and left saying that he would probably be home very late.
I know I should have been bothered my husband wouldn’t be home for dinner, but the truth was I was glad. Meme and I had tossed around some ideas about setting a trap to catch the killer. I thought it was a good plan, but if I told John, he would never let me be in on it. The problem was I knew it could be dangerous, and while I loved playing detective, I had no plans to depart this earth any time soon, so I needed someone with some authority other than a cop. I needed someone with a gun.
“It could work,” Shirley Reynolds said an hour later.
“Have you ever done anything like this before?” I was seated across from her, in her home office, with a cup of tea cradled in my hands.
“Setting a trap? Sure. Lots of times, but never for a killer.” Shirley scratched her head. “You should probably just let your husband handle it.”
“I guess you’re right. It could get dangerous, especially if the killer brought another pickle with him.”
“Or her,” Shirley added.
“Right. Do you really think a woman could have held him down? I mean everyone at the supper was a senior citizen,” I said.
“But they’re all in great shape. And the man did have some tranquilizers in him.”
I told Shirley all about the secret drawers and what Sophie and I found. “Do you think he was involved in some kind of witness protection scheme?”
“I doubt it. At least not an American one. The program started up in nineteen-seventy-one, I believe, and Humphrey and Sophie have been married since the fifties. His change of identities was obviously before that because his wife only knows him as Humphrey, not Hubert. Or maybe she’s lying.”
I shook my head quickly. “No. I’m sure she didn’t know any of it. She was angry; more than angry, she was horrified. She truly has no idea what the heck is going on with the birth certificate, the new passport and all that art. By the way, how would he get a British passport?”
Shirley got up and brought the tea kettle in from the back room. She topped off my mug with more hot water and sat back down. “Any number of ways, and a man like Humphrey, with all his money, could get anything done. My thought is he was planning to run. He was selling off art to get money, he had a new passport. He was going to run, I’m sure of it.”
“But he had money already,” I said.
“Sure, but if he waited for a divorce, everything would be tied up for months, maybe years while they sorted everything out. I guess he could have just taken everything and left Sophie penniless, but maybe he thought selling the art would be cleaner and quicker and maybe deep inside that round little body he actually had a soft spot for his wife.”
I got up to leave. “I’ll talk to John, but just in case are you free this week?”
“Pretty much. I just wrapped up a job this morning and I’ve got nothing for the rest of the week, at least at night. I assume your little scheme would work better at night.” I nodded. This really is a job for the police, but if you’re crazy enough to go it alone, call me. By the way, if you’re here asking for my help I take it I’m off your suspect list?”
“You were never really on it. It was all my sister’s idea,” I said. I walked down the front steps and out to my car and I had to wonder, was I setting myself up to be alone in a tight space, with a killer with a gun.
Chapter 65
I made a quick stop at Sophie’s and told her what I had planned. She liked the idea, but as with Shirley Reynolds, she felt it was better left to the police.
“I promise. I’m going to tell John about it tonight. Now, we need to get you out of here. Do you have someplace you can go for a few days?”
“A dear friend lives in New Haven. I’ll call her tonight and make plans to go there early tomorrow. Let me get you a key.”
Sophie went down the hall while I looked out the large living room window toward the dark Sound. I had used my cell before leaving Shirley’s house to call my sister. I didn’t feel like going home and thought Sam and the kids might like to have dinner, but she had a parent/teacher night thing to go to. Meme was heading out for a bingo game, but told me that everyone would be at the community center in the morning for a tournament. It sounded like the ideal time to put my plan into play and I told Meme I would pick her up about nine-thirty. Now all I had to do was convince John.
“Here you go. I also wrote down the alarm code.” A look of concern came over Sophie’s pale features. “What are you going to do about the alarm?”
I paced a few times in front of the couch. “Okay, I can make it sound like I’m really concerned about all the art while you’re away because your alarm system isn’t working and with Humphrey’s death and your trip to your sister’s you just never got around to getting it fixed.”
Sophie smiled. “I like it. Alex, are you sure this is going to work? Are you sure this is all connected?”
I sat down beside her. “It has to be and hopefully by tomorrow night all the pieces will have fallen into place and you can get on with your life.”
“I’ve thought about selling this place,” Sophie said as she looked around the room. “Too many memories and not necessarily good ones. And now a secret room and drawer, I just don’t know if I can continue to stay here. But, oh, I do love the ocean.”
I patted her hand. “Well, you don’t have to make that decision just yet. Have you given any thought as to what you’ll do with all the paintings and other stuff?”
“How can I? We don’t even know how Humphrey came to have it. Maybe he stole it and then what? All I want right now is for the killer to be caught and all that stuff taken away. Even if it legally belongs to me, I don’t want it. How can I possibly have something in my home that was taken away from someone by Nazis? It’s all too horrible to even think about.”
“You have all my numbers. If something happens and you can’t get hold of your friend, call me immediately.”
“I’ll be out of here one way or the other for tomorrow night even if I have to go and stay with Janet.” Sophie made it sound like a most disagreeable solution.
“You know, your granddaughter seems like a nice woman. I mean she’s a nurse. She spends her time helping others and she put herself through school. Maybe you should give her another chance.”
“I’m afraid the sins of her mother have always tainted my opinion of her. I’ve been harsh, I know. Since Humphrey died, she’s been coming around more and even took me to lunch one day. She is a nice girl and she has some funny stories about the comings and goings at the hospital. It sounds just like one of those TV shows. Maybe I can get to know her better. And my son, too.”
“I know both of them would really appreciate that. All they want is to
be a family.”
I tucked the key into my wallet for safekeeping, put on my coat, and left Sophie to make her calls and pack her bag, and hoped with all my heart that it wouldn’t be Janet or Robert or both who would end up in my trap.
Chapter 66
A cold wind blew in from the Sound and a wall of dark clouds moved across the horizon. We were having one heck of a winter this year and there didn’t seem to be any end in sight.
I drove down Main Street and then turned right where it ended at the harbor. I had no idea if the Kaufmans would be at the pickleball tournament so I used their scrumptious strudel as a good excuse to stop by and tell them about the art and Sophie’s trip to visit a friend. I was becoming quite adept at inserting certain subject matter into conversations.
“That’s incredible,” Astrid said as she placed three strudels in boxes. “I haven’t heard a word about any art. Was it on the news?”
“No. The police are keeping it quiet until they sort it all out.”
“And they think that’s why Humphrey was killed, because he had all these paintings?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure how it all connects, or even if it does, but Sophie’s got a lot to figure out when she gets home from visiting her friend.”
“That’s a lot of strudel for one person,” Mr. Kaufman said from behind the counter.
I gave him a big smile. “I’m taking it to the pickleball tournament. I’m going to watch the calendar boys.”
Astrid gave me a wink and then looked up at the clock on the back wall. “We’ll be there too. Carl, call Mario in from the back. He’ll have to work the counter this morning.”
I paid for my strudels and then drove over to Meme’s.
“I think you better drive Francis’ car. It’s bigger and has four doors.”
My little two-door Honda wasn’t the most conducive car for seniors to get in and out of and as there would be four of us, I thought taking Francis’ SUV would be the best choice.
I got Meme situated in the back with Theresa and Francis and I got into the front. It was an older model SUV and not as large as some of the ones I see on the road, but it was nice and comfortable. I needed to think about upgrading my own car, but it suited me fine and so far it was hanging in there.
“So John went for it, huh?” Meme asked.
I looked in the review mirror. “Not at first, but he finally agreed to do a stake-out.”
“Then why don’t you look happy?” my grandmother asked.
“Because I’ve been told in no uncertain terms to stay home. Leave it to the police and all that.”
“You didn’t think he’d put you in any danger, did you, Alex?” Theresa asked. “He loves you very much.”
“Yeah, whatever. It was my idea.”
“You just come over to my house, honey, and we’ll wait to see if your little plan worked.”
I smiled at my grandmother in the mirror, but I was still fuming at not being allowed to participate in the sting.
“So what’s the plan for this morning?” Francis asked. “You know, we’re doing all the actual work. If we do it right the police will reap the rewards of our hard efforts.”
I cut my eyes at Francis. “Nice try. The take-down is where all the action is and of course the cops will get all the credit. But it is what it is and we do have a part to play so here’s what I thought. Just kind of act casual when you’re talking to the picklers and say something like, ‘so, did you hear about all the art they found at the Bryson home? Poor Sophie. Now she’s got to figure out what to do, and she’s so busy going to visit friends and trying to get the alarm fixed, she sure has her hands full and she’s still mourning Humphrey.’ Something like that.”
Meme cackled from the back seat. “They’ll never believe she’s still mourning Humphrey. Better leave that part out, but we’ll make sure everyone knows all about the paintings and that she’s gone.”
“And don’t forget the part about the alarm. You have to work that in. The killer has to know there’s no alarm.”
“But if the killer is the one who already broke in and took a few things, wouldn’t he know there’s no alarm?” Theresa said.
“Good point. But evidently everyone knew Sophie and Humphrey never used their alarm. The killer may think since the robbery, that’s changed. We need to be sure they know it’s still the status quo—no alarm. They’d be expecting one now after the burglary, so that’s why we need to emphasis that it’s broke.”
I got nods from everyone and pulled into the parking lot of the Indian Cove Community Center.
“Looks like everybody’s here,” Meme said. “Let’s go catch us a killer.”
Chapter 67
It did seem like everyone from Indian Cove and the surrounding towns was there. I saw a bunch of players I had never seen before and Meme said they were from the Bridgeport club. I guess I should have picked up several more strudels, but we would have to make do with the three I brought.
We got settled off to the side where someone had set up a bunch of chairs. Against the wall was a long table with an urn of coffee and one with hot water for tea. I placed the pastries on the table and opened the lids. That done, I grabbed two coffees for Meme and Theresa and then went back for tea for Francis and me.
There were four pickleball courts set up and the action started up immediately. On the court closest to us were a group of men I had never seen before.
“The winner of this group will go on to play the winners of the game where Howard and Fred are playing right now.”
I looked over to where Meme pointed and sure enough Howard and Fred were battling it out with Sid Dupre and Peter Gaffney. I could see what Sophie saw in Peter. He was a nice looking man, successful and had a refinement that fit perfectly with Sophie’s personality. She deserved to be happy and I just hoped neither she nor Peter had anything to do with Humphrey’s death.
On the other side of Meme, Theresa let out a hoot. “Did you see that? Fred’s got a great dink shot. That one went right to the center and they weren’t expecting it.”
I had no idea what she meant by any of that. I turned my attention back to the players and looked to see exactly who was here. Sid was playing, and I saw Marie off to the side watching him. They had obviously weathered their problems and presented a united team. Had they also joined forces to kill Humphrey? Then I saw the Holts. Phyllis did some stretches and her wild hair fell across her face. Did she join up with her daughter to get rid of Humphrey or did Lester avenge his wife? The Kaufmans were talking with another couple I didn’t recognize. They had perfect access to the food and could have spiked Humphrey’s dinner, plus they brought the pickles. Did someone really plan a murder via pickle? And then there were the calendar boys, who were in full force today. The thought of one of them spending the rest of his days in prison was just too horrible to think about. Leaning against the wall by the coffee table I saw Tony Moretti and his wife. I wondered how he was getting on now that he and Marie were no longer an item. If he had killed Humphrey to keep him quiet so he could continue his affair with Marie, things hadn’t turned out quite the way he expected.
“So what do you think?” Meme asked me. “Is the killer here?”
“Probably. The only people on my list who aren’t here are Mr. Hildebrand and Suzanne, and Terry Roder, the sleazy PI.” I made a mental note to contact them by phone to let them know about the paintings.
The matches ended and everyone took a break before starting the next round. It was time to mingle and put our plan into action. I left Meme and walked over to the table for some more hot water and a slice of cherry strudel. Out of all the flavors Astrid made, I think I liked the cherry and peach the best.
“Carl just told me that you and Sophie found a secret room in the house. Is that true?” Marie asked. Today she had on a fuchsia nylon top and black pants. The color set off her gorgeous hair and skin. I had a feeling poor Sid had always had his hands full with this one. She definitely liked to flirt and with her lo
oks, her advances were probably always reciprocated.
“Yes, it is true. There it was, right behind a hidden panel in Humphrey’s study. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“And now it all belongs to Sophie?”
I swallowed a bite of strudel. “That I don’t know. I’m not sure how it’s ever going to be sorted out. If you’ve read the news lately about all that stolen art they found in Germany, well, if the German’s can’t even work it out, I don’t know how Sophie’s going to be able to. But I’ll tell you one thing, until she does, as soon as she gets back she had better get a better alarm system and get everything insured.”
I watched Marie walk away and a moment later she inserted herself into a group of seven people and started talking. I smiled. All I needed to do now was sit back and let Marie do the rest.
For the next several hours I alternated between watching the matches and telling my tale. Meme and Theresa and Francis had done their fair share of spreading the word and if I didn’t watch out, there was going to be a crowd sneaking into Sophie’s tonight. But somehow I didn’t think so. It was a great story and probably would provide fodder for several games to come, but I had a feeling only the killer would show up. And then one of the players on the court to the left of me took off their sweatshirt to reveal a t-shirt underneath. They raised their left arm to hit the ball and I saw something, and things fell into place.
Chapter 68
I took Meme and the gang home, and while we waited for the homemade chicken and fennel soup to heat up I called the gallery and told Mr. Hildebrand there was a lot more art than what I had showed him, and that as soon as Mrs. Bryson got back from a trip she might need his help sorting through everything. The truth was I didn’t think the man was a killer. I felt certain I had figured that out. I really just wanted to throw some business his way. Sophie certainly would need help, or at least an advocate in her corner, and who better that Alastair Hildebrand and Suzanne Holt.