1 A Paw-sible Theory (9 page)

He hesitated and looked away before answering her silent plea.

“I give Bob a transcribed copy of all my interviews; I’ll be glad to ask for his authorization to give you a copy as well.”

Alyx smiled and reached for his hand. “Thank you.”

“For a good cat, a good rat.”

––
French Proverb

CHAPTER
NINETEEN:
 
Antiques, Tours, and Interviews

It had been a while since I’d last been downtown and the walk down Ocean Street gave me the opportunity to reacquaint myself with the area. The renovation of the business area had been completed and the main street was now home to antique stores, art galleries, unique boutiques, and quaint sidewalk cafés. The buildings were mostly art deco style, recently repainted in various shades of beige, aqua and pink, colorful canopies topping the doors and windows.

I had learned from a report that Ethan did in college that the 1910 bank building I passed housed a museum, and just down the street, where the residential area began, the Live Oak House dating back to 1700 overlooked the marina. Four hundred years old, live oak trees surrounded the current house built in 1871; the original structure having burned down during the second Seminole Indian War. Also in the heart of the old downtown area was another registered historic house built in 1912 of coquina limestone created by centuries of transforming sand, shell and coral.

I stopped to look at the display window at Alyx and Maggie’s shop, Antiques & Designs, admiring the beautifully crafted desk in excellent condition that was tucked in the corner of the display. I saw David Hunter driving down the street, looking for a parking spot, so I quickly entered the store.

Many of the antique stores that Alyx had taken me to had been either full of stodgy dark antiques, or so full of junk you had to dig your way through to find anything worthwhile. Antiques & Designs was different; here customers found a bright and orderly display of goods set up to look much like the rooms in a lived-in home, the antiques mixed in with vintage furniture. Some of the items evolved from other things with previous lives, such as the corner-shelf created from two louvered bi-fold door panels and the bench that had had a previous life as a headboard.

The space was open with only the furniture delineating the various rooms. Off to the side, towards the middle of the space was a wide, majestic staircase curving up to the loft area on the second floor.

An attractive, flamboyantly-dressed woman in her thirties walked up to Hunter and offered to assist him. “I’m here to see Maggie Broeck. Are you Ms. Broeck?”

“No, I’m Bernice. Maggie is with a customer now. Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked pleasantly. Hunter handed her his business card and told her he just needed to speak to Maggie for a few minutes.

Bernice glanced at the card. “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

He smiled a thank you and watched her disappear up the curving staircase. A few minutes later, Maggie came down the stairs. Attractive in a conventional way, Maggie was dressed in a conservative, turquoise suit. The warm, friendly personality she presented was genuine. She introduced herself and directed Hunter to the office in the rear of the store. I followed unseen.

In contrast to the décor of the store, the office was completely modern-day and functional. Maggie offered Hunter some coffee, which he declined, poured herself a cup and sat behind the desk. He took a seat next to the desk, pulled out a notebook and recorder from his briefcase, and placed the briefcase on the floor, next to his chair.

“How can I help you, Mr. Hunter?”

“Call me David. I’d like to ask you some questions, just to clear up a few points. Do you mind if I record the conversation? You strike me as someone who has a lot to say and I don’t take shorthand.”

“You’re right; I usually do have a lot to say, but not about what happened to Alyx. I have no idea who or why someone would want to hurt her.”

“I understand. My questions, however, are about you. I know you have access to the house, but your statement to the police makes no mention of it. Why didn’t you tell them you have a key?”

She looked down. “I don’t know. I’m not good at analyzing my actions. I did tell Ethan I’d be taking care of the cats and the house. I assumed he understood I had a key. If I had anything to hide I wouldn’t have done that.”

David Hunter had his questions written down and moved on to number two.

“Alyx’s ex-husband Bob Hille overheard a conversation you were having on the phone outside of Alyx’s hospital room.”

I watched Maggie closely for a reaction. A look of disdain crossed her face at the mention of Bob’s name. She essentially said that she had been surprised at Alyx’s reaction about moving the business and had enlisted Ethan to help.

“Who was the realtor who contacted you?”

“His name is Rupert Moresby. His wife, Novie, owns the Ocean Street Café, next door to our business, as a matter of fact.”

“Did you discuss the offer with her?”

“Yes, I did. Rupert mentioned that the developer, James Dunne, was also interested in buying the building where the café is located. I wanted to see what Novie’s feelings were about selling. I got the impression Rupert wanted it to happen more than she did.”

Hunter flipped his notebook to another page. “Ethan mentioned there was some resentment on the part of some of the business owners regarding being pressured to expand their business hours. Can you give more background on that?”

“Ethan and I talked about that before his arrest. He asked me if I knew of anyone who might have wanted to hurt Alyx. I told him I didn’t know of any problems among the people we knew, and he reminded me about a nasty confrontation with Dan Ramsey a couple of months back. His store is two doors north,” she said, indicating the direction with her head.

“Where did this happen?”

She took a sip of coffee. “It happened at our regular Merchant’s Association meeting. Alyx and I presented the idea that it would benefit all of us to get involved in sponsoring community events such as the annual Arts Festival, taking the opportunity to show off our beautiful renovated downtown. Well, he stood up, got all red in the face and, directing his comments to Alyx, said he was tired of
pushy
newcomers changing the order of things. And we heard again about how long he and some of the others had been downtown and had gotten along just fine.”

“How did Alyx react to that?”

Maggie grinned. “She stood up, rested both hands on the table in front of her, and told Dan Ramsey that change was inevitable whether he liked it or not, but if he didn’t, he should consider selling so that those interested in developing the area to its full potential could do so without hindrance.

Hunter only smiled, and Maggie continued, “Ramsey was also the most vocal when we approached the group about changing business hours when we first opened our store. He and five or six others are in the minority. Most want the changes; they just didn’t know it when the old guard was always running the show,” she said, finishing her coffee.

He flipped a few pages back. “What about your employees, Bernice Kustaberry and Charvette Hattaras, anything unusual ever happen between them and Alyx?”

Maggie thought about it. “Nothing I know about. We stole Bernice from the Antique Emporium and Charvette came highly recommended by Novie Moresby next door, whom we know pretty well. Charvette used to work for her husband, Rupert. Although we all like each other and occasionally have lunch, Alyx and I don’t socialize with our employees. We prefer to keep things on a business level.”

He consulted his notes again. “What about George Lucas? What can you tell me about him?”

“Well, George isn’t really an employee,” she answered quickly. “He’s not on our payroll; we pay him by the piece, whether it’s an item he fixed or one he created. Alyx has known him for several years and she’s never said anything bad about him nor has he ever said anything bad about her. He’s a very talented man and we both feel lucky to have him as a supplier and woodworker.”

“I assume that in your business you travel to other cities to find merchandise to sell?”

“Yes, we do, but not very often. I think the last out of town trip was a couple of months ago when Alyx and Charvette went to an antique fair in Georgia, which was when Alyx gave me the key to her house, by the way. She asked me to take care of her cats. She didn’t ask for it back when she returned and I just forgot to give it back to her. In fact, it’s been here in the drawer of this desk until I took it out Monday,” she said.

He made no comment on the key issue and continued his questioning.

“Did anything unusual happen at the fair that you know of? Anything between Charvette and Alyx or someone else?”

She said no. He thanked her for the information and asked if he could speak to Bernice and Charvette.

“Sure, let me go tell them you want to talk to them. I’ll ask Bernice to come in first.”

“Thank you and I’d also like to speak to George.”

“It so happens, I spoke to him a little while ago and he should be here any time.”

The interview with Bernice was short, as she didn’t have a lot to tell him.

Charvette, conservatively dressed in a navy blue skirt and a light blue sweater set, appeared to be in her late forties, not unattractive but she wouldn’t have stood out in a group of women her age. A quiet look of desperation hung over her, though nothing she said or did alluded to that. She was pleasant and eager to answer his questions but didn’t have any additional information to add to what we already knew. However, I did notice her hesitance when he asked a routine question about her former employer, Rupert Moresby, in order to establish her background.

That got me thinking. Charvette had been at the hospital shortly after they admitted Alyx. How did she know Alyx was in the hospital? She said she had heard the 911 call go out on some sort of radio, but that wasn’t necessarily true. So what was she doing there? And why was she so interested in hearing what Dr. Casey was saying when she pretended to be looking for something in her purse as an excuse for lingering? Then there was the thing about the flowers. Maggie had caught that but had dismissed it as irrelevant. How did Charvette know who sent the flowers since there was no name on the card?

Maggie told Hunter he was welcome to use the office if he wanted to speak to George and Hunter said he did. She left and, while he waited, he made a call to his assistant. Luckily, I overheard.

“I need you to make a few appointments for me as soon as possible. First, call Maggie Broeck and set up a time when she can meet me at Ms. Hille’s house; try for tomorrow. Also, call Rupert Moresby of Moresby Realty, and Novie Moresby, Ocean Street Café, and tell both of them that I’ll be stopping by to talk to them in the next two days. Just get a general time frame from them.”

“Also,” he continued, “call Dan Ramsey, and make an appointment for a specific time, and make it at his convenience. Since you’ll be taking a lunch late, take your time coming back.”

“I gave an order to a cat, and the cat gave it to its tail.”

––
Chinese Proverb

CHAPTER TWENTY:
 
A Crook or Whistle Blower

Tired and hungry, I was profoundly grateful that Hunter was able to interview George Lucas at Antiques & Designs instead of his home. I had accompanied Alyx to Lucas’s house once or twice and I knew that George lived in a rural area outside the city limits. There were a few farms and some homes, mostly on large tracts of land––some large enough to have horses. His house was a modest two-story home with a detached garage and a large shed separate from the house. A long, dirt driveway led to the house, guarded by gigantic Florida pines. The large shed was full of broken furniture, pieces of furniture, lumber and a large inventory of architectural items. In contrast to the shed, the living room was clean, uncluttered, and tastefully decorated. He had told Alyx that very few pieces were authentic––the rest were reissues or reconstructed. Some parts were authentic, some parts not.

Luckily, I did not have to travel so far out today. The two men were settled at one of the antique tables in the front showroom. I listened in from behind a potted palm.

“I read an article in the
Times,
” said George, “that said the hot market for modernist furniture is calling into question the authenticity of the pieces as they are rebuilt, repainted, reproduced, or newly assembled. I read that a twentieth-century trestle table sold for over three million dollars. I’d hate to be the owner of that piece and then discover that it wasn’t authentic.”

Hunter asked him if he used authentic parts to reconstruct the items he sold.

“Yes, I do, but not just with modern pieces, I also do it with antiques and other pieces of furniture.”

George quickly provided an explanation.

“Antiques & Designs’ customers are fully aware of what they’re buying. I put a sticker on the back of each piece I work on, with my signature and an explanation of what was done to the piece.”

“Do you have other clients besides Antiques & Designs?” asked the lawyer, checking his ever-present recorder.

“I’ve had other clients in the past. Lately, I just work for myself––selling at flea markets and shows, and Antiques & Designs.”

“Did your other clients disclose the origins of the pieces they sold?”

“I prefer not to answer that, if you don’t mind.
Buyer beware
has always been understood with antiques and it’s the same now with modernist furniture.”

“How long have you known Alyx?”

“We’ve run into each other at antique fairs and estate sales for years, and she always made a purchase or two at antique shows and fairs for just as long.”

“Do you tell all your customers about the authenticity of your pieces?”

A terse, “Yes, I do,” was his answer.

“Do you know anything that might help Ethan’s case? Anything you heard or saw that seemed unusual?”

“I regret to say, no.”

“What about Antiques & Designs’ other employees? Ever hear them discuss any grievances?”

He shook his head. “I never heard them say one derogatory word about Alyx or Maggie. Customers here are treated well and seem to appreciate it, as far as I know.”

“Just to make sure I have this right––you and Alyx never argued about making customers aware of the authenticity of the pieces you worked on?”

George stood up. “No, there has never been a question about it, and if you don’t mind I have a lot of work to finish.”

The interview was obviously over. Hunter turned off the recorder and handed Lucas his card. “It’s my job to ask unpleasant questions. Please call me if you have anything to add to our conversation, and thank you for your time.”

Hunter received a call from his assistant as George left the room and I gathered from the one-way conversation that Dan Ramsey had agreed to see him on short notice.