Chapter Thirty-Three
Addie raced up her front steps and took a quick look over her shoulder to be sure she was alone. She disarmed the alarm and pressed her back against the door, pausing to take a deep breath, and then dashed into the living room. She tossed her bag on the sofa and tore into the envelope. A small, white box fell into the palm of her hand. With trembling fingers, she pulled the top off and gasped.
It was exactly like the picture in the postcard: a red silk–lined box with a small gold ornate key tucked into the center. “My God, Raymond,” she murmured. “That card was an actual photo of this, not a postcard. How much did you know?” She frowned, tucked the box into her jacket pocket, and then turned toward the desk.
Marc and she had returned the desk to its original position against the wall last night. Addie had insisted on storing the jeweled box in one of the other secret compartments underneath the desktop for easier access when they had to retrieve it later. After all, she had told him, the intruders hadn’t discovered it in the past. Therefore, it should be safe in there again.
On wobbling legs, she navigated herself across the room and crawled under the desk. She wiped her clammy hands on the knees of her trousers and slowly pulled the box out of its hiding place. Her heart raced. This was the moment she had been waiting for. She took a deep breath and wiggled out from under the desk, fished the key from her pocket, and fit it into the small lock. Nothing happened. She jiggled the key; still nothing. Her breath came short and fast, and her heart crashed to the pit of her stomach. She took the key out and refit it into the lock. Still nothing. It turned, but the top wouldn’t open. “Darn it. What’s your secret?”
She placed it on the desk and glared at it. “Secret . . . that’s it.” She grabbed the box and turned it over. Her fingers traced the contours of its underside, but she felt nothing out of the ordinary. She tried inserting the key again and began pressing and prodding the gem and gold filigree design, but to no avail. She moved her hand to the box’s side and discovered an irregularity in the pattern where the base and sidewall met, and pressed the center diamond of that pattern. The lid popped open in her hand.
Her face dropped. There was nothing but a roll of newspaper clippings bound by an elastic band, which she easily removed. The elastic didn’t break, so it told her it wasn’t that old and hadn’t dried out with age. She unrolled the pages across the desk and checked for the date of publication. She wavered and grabbed the side of the desk. The date was the day after her father had died. She scanned through the pages, looking for a clue as to why this would be in the box, but only found advertisements and comic strips. It made no sense. Why would her aunt have gone through the trouble of stashing these in the jeweled case?
Her cell phone in her pocket chimed a text alert. She pulled it out, relieved to see it was from Serena.
Where are you? I need to talk to you right away.
Addie’s fingers flew across her screen. I’m home. Come over. Leaving the door unlocked. If I don’t answer, follow nose to the kitchen.
She rolled the newspapers back up, secured them with the elastic and placed them into the box, then tucked it under her arm and unlocked the front door. After she got the kettle on for Serena’s tea, she flew off a text to Marc.
Found the key! Contents a little disappointing.
Serena’s going to meet me here at the house.
Should be back at my store within the hour if you have any juicy tidbits to share.
“I’m back here Serena,” she called out when she heard the front door open. “That didn’t take you long. I’m just making a late lunch. I hope you’re hungry?” she yelled, placing meat and cheese on buttered bread.
“Not really,” a cold voice said behind her.
She spun around and looked directly down the barrel of a black gun. She stared across the barrel to the hand and then to the face of the person holding it. Her jaw clenched as she looked into the steely eyes of the tall woman from her store, the same one she had seen with Catherine.
“We’re not very hungry, my dear,” chirped another voice. The elderly lady from her shop appeared from behind the tall woman. “But I do think you have something that we are looking for.” She smiled sweetly. Her gaze traveled to the jeweled case sitting on the counter. “If you would be so kind as to give me the key,” she said, holding out her frail hand, “we’ll be on our way and let you have your lunch.”
“What makes you think I have the key?” Addie wished she had kept the carving knife she’d used earlier in her hand.
“Please give us some credit, my dear.” Tsk tsk
, she clucked. “We know much more than you’re aware of.” Her eyes bored into Addie’s, and the corner of her lip curled up. “Now I’m losing patience. Hand it over.”
The woman with the gun took a step forward.
Addie flinched and reached into her pocket.
The old woman took the key from her trembling fingers. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She turned to the box and inserted the key in the lock. It didn’t open. She wiggled it and then slammed her palm on the counter. “Open it. Now.”
Addie took a breath and shook her head.
“I said now.” The old woman glared.
Addie heard the sound of a trigger being cocked. Her heart pounded against her chest so hard she could hear the thudding in her ears. She clenched her fists at her sides and grabbed the box. She almost dropped it. The woman reached out and grasped Addie’s arm, steadying it. “There, there, that’s it, just give us what we want, and we’ll be off.” Her silky voice grated inside Addie’s head.
Addie turned the key in the lock and pressed the gemstone to release the lid. It popped open. The old woman snatched it from her hands and pulled it toward her. “What’s this?” She pulled the roll of newspapers out. “Where’s the book?” She glared at Addie. “Where is it?”
Addie glanced at the two women, their faces red with rage. She stepped backward. “I, I don’t know anything about a book. I swear. I thought you were just after the box. It has to be worth a lot of money.” She inched away until her back pressed into the counter.
The old woman tucked the case into her large handbag. Her eyes remained fixed on Addie’s. “Not half as much as the book, and you know that. Where is it?”
“Honest, I don’t know anything about a book. I just found the box yesterday. Until then, I didn’t even know it existed.” Addie placed her hands behind her and searched the counter until she felt the handle of the carving knife. She drew it close to her back.
“We’re not done yet,” snapped the old woman, turning on her heel and heading out of the kitchen.
The tall woman inched backward. Her gun never wavered from Addie. When she was close enough to the front door, she turned and bolted. Addie slithered down the side of the cupboards and sat, shaking on the floor. She turned the carving knife over in her hands and wondered, if given the opportunity, she would have actually been able to use it on a person. She dropped it on the floor beside her.
She pulled her phone from her pocket, knowing she had to call Marc. Not only to report this but so he could tell her how she should feel after staring down the barrel of a gun. Tears burned at her eyes as she entered his phone number. The front door banged open, and she jumped. Her phone flew from her fingers and skidded across the floor. She gritted her teeth and tried to stop the whirling motion in her head. She strained to listen and heard the scuffle of footsteps, but nothing more.
Addie swiveled onto her knees and peered over the island counter. “Marc,” she cried.
“Addie, are you okay?” He lowered his gun to his side.
She nodded.
“You’re shaking.” Marc walked over to her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She looked up at him and nodded. “How did you know to come?”
“Because I was standing in front of your shop with Serena when you sent me the text telling me she was on her way to your place.”
Addie frowned and stared blankly at him.
His fingers grasped her shoulders. “She’s lost her phone. You couldn’t have gotten a text from her.”
“I didn’t know.” She bit her lip and looked at him. “Why were you at my shop?”
“Long story. First, I need to know what happened here and why you’re so shaken up.”
“All clear, Chief. There’s no one else in the house.”
“Thanks, Kurt. You guys can wait outside. I’ll just get Miss Greyborne’s statement.”
Kurt looked from Addie to Marc, a slight smile crossing his lips as he turned and left.
Marc wrote down her statement and offered a few hums and nods while she made it. However, she noticed his brow did rise when she told him about the mysterious book the old woman had said was supposed to be in the box—but that was it. His staunch, detached chief-of-police demeanor through it all was infuriating. What she really needed from him right now was some hint of personal warmth. After all, she had stared straight down the barrel of a gun. When she finished giving her statement, she shot him a glaring glance.
“What’s wrong with you?” He stared at her. “What did I do besides come to your rescue?”
“My rescue? Really, that’s what you think?” She crossed her arms. “I think the threat was over by the time you arrived—and by the way, staring down a loaded gun barrel isn’t as bad as everyone thinks it is.” She tossed her head back.
“Addie, come here.”
“I’m fine, really I am.” She tapped her toe.
He tilted her chin up with his fingertip, his soft eyes searching hers. “It’s okay if you’re upset. It isn’t easy. It never is when something like this happens and you walk away thinking how lucky you are to survive.”
She nodded, tightening her lips.
“Well, I will say,” he said, gripping her shoulders gently, “that you handled things pretty well. You made sure you could get your hands on that knife. It shows that you can think on your feet and not lose your head in a crisis.”
“Yup, I sure did that.”
Marc focused on her taut face. “Look, Addie, I know you’re in shock now and holding it together, but sometime out of the blue it’s going to hit you, and hard. It does even the most seasoned soldier or police officer. But please know, I’m here when you need to talk.” He tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. “The anger and confusion you’re feeling right now is a natural reaction. Talking about it comes later.”
She sniffed. “Why were you at my store?”
He shook his head. “You are something else.”
“What happened?”
He puffed out a deep breath and scratched the back of his head. “Well, I was there to break up a protest that got out of hand.”
“A protest in front of my place?”
“Yup. Haven’t had one of those in years.”
“Who and what was the protest?”
“Well,” he said, and leaned back and stroked his chin, “your neighbor, Martha, has it in her head that you are the leader of a major crime ring and is demanding the town shut you down.”
Addie stared disbelievingly at him. “You’re kidding.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Nope. She got a few of her cronies together, and they staged a protest, complete with signs and chants telling the townsfolk to force you out.”
Addie dropped onto a counter stool. “So her petition wasn’t enough. Now she has to publicly humiliate me.”
“Yup.” He rocked back on his heels.
“That’s not all though, is it?”
“I knew you were smart.” He winked and brought his hand out as if he wanted to touch her flushed cheek. Instead, he dropped it back to his side. “Paige went out to tell them to leave and got into an altercation with Martha, and then Serena went out to break that up, and . . . well, long story short, it ended in a full-out sidewalk brawl.”
Addie scrubbed her hands over her face. The next time she saw Martha, she’d . . . she’d . . .
“That’s why I didn’t get here sooner. I couldn’t hear my text alert over the noise.” Marc’s voice broke into her thoughts of revenge.
“I can’t believe this.” She shook her head. “If Martha ever knew the truth about what’s been going on, she’d have a lot more fuel for her fire, wouldn’t she?” She sighed and leaned on the counter, her chin cupped in her hand.
Marc patted her on the back. “Keep your chin up.” He slid onto the stool beside her. “We now have a few other pieces of the puzzle, which takes us one step closer to ending this whole mess once and for all.”
“Yes, and the big one now seems to be a mysterious book.” She twirled the carving knife in circles on the counter.
“Yes, the book.” He placed his hand over hers, stopping the knife from swirling. “Remind me to never really get on your bad side.”
“I’m not sure I could use it, even if I had to.” Her eyes dropped to the blade in front of her.
“You’d be surprised what people can do when they have to.”
“Yes, I guess, but we now have to figure out what this book is and why it’s so valuable that even a gold- and gem-covered box wasn’t enough to make the two women happy.”
“Were you aware of any of the books your father had been tracking down for clients?”
“None that would have been worth that much.” She shook her head. “It’s strange though.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Well, obviously the book had been in there, because the newspaper clippings were only six months old and were dated the day after my father was killed. Which means my aunt must have taken the book out and replaced it with them to throw off whoever she thought might come looking for it.”
“She was a smart lady.” He patted her hand.
“And smart enough not to keep the key anywhere it would be found, which is why she gave it to my father.”
“Who then gave it to Raymond, but he also told Catherine about the package just so someone else would know Raymond had it.”
“Yes . . . and probably because he knew he was being followed by someone who was onto the book.”
“Then he’s killed because somehow the thieves knew your aunt gave him the key when he left her place, right before his accident.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Right, but because of the fiery crash, which maybe they didn’t count on, they assumed it had been lost and they’d have to go directly after the box. They were probably planning to smash it if they had to so they could get to the book.” She chewed her lip and drummed her fingers on the counter.
“But that would have destroyed the box, and it’s worth a lot of money itself, and you said the older woman knew that you had the key. But how?” His brow furrowed.
“And how did my aunt open the box the day after she’d given my father the key? You know, when she replaced the book with the newspaper clippings. There must be a second key hidden somewhere. Arg, I don’t know anymore.” Addie groaned and put her head on the counter. “It’s so confusing.” Marc lightly caressed her hair. If she were a cat, she would have started purring. Instead, she glanced sideways at him. “I wonder who my aunt would have told about the key and the book? She seems too smart to have shared something so important with just anyone.” Her head shot up.
“Raymond,” they cried in unison.
“That must be it. He was her lawyer for years. Why wouldn’t she trust him?” Addie clasped Marc’s hand in hers. His warm gaze fell on her. She let her hand fall from his.
He stroked his chin. “I wonder if your father suspected Raymond might not be so trustworthy, and that’s why he told Catherine about the package in the first place.”
“And why Raymond never got the security system installed. He wanted to make sure they, whoever they
are, would have had plenty of opportunity to search her house.” She stared at the countertop.
“Yes, after all, she was an elderly woman living on her own, and if they were such good friends, besides him being her lawyer—”
“He might have had another key to her house?” She looked at him. “But then if he did have a key, why was my back door smashed open?” She bit her lip.
Marc sucked in air between his teeth. “Maybe Raymond did double-cross them somehow.”
“Which is why he was murdered.”