Loomis handed Emma the teapot. “Did I ever tell you the story of—”
Randall gave Emma a smile. “Apology accepted.”
“He’s a stuck-up sourpuss,” Emma said.
“Emma!” Molly blurted.
“Michelle’s brother, Nicky. He swaggers around like he was the king, or something. And he told Michelle that their other grandfather thinks Mr. Mattucci had Mr. Jessop killed just like he had their father.”
Randall looked at Molly. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“I didn’t know,” Molly said. She put down her chopsticks and stared at Emma. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“I was kinda saving it for my ending.”
“This isn’t a TV mini-series, Emma. I don’t want cliffhangers, okay?” Randall said.
“Nicky said that Mr. Giordano wants him to change from viticulture at Davis to animal husbandry so he can take over his big ranch when he dies. He told Nicky growing wine was for sissies, and cattle was for real men.”
“Nicky said all that in front of you?” Loomis asked.
“I guess he thought I was asleep. He came into our bedroom to talk to Michelle.”
Randall looked at Loomis. “Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
“You’re singing my song,” Loomis said. “How long were the Jessops married?” He looked at Molly. “Not the other one. I mean Carla Jessop. ”
Molly paused. “Three years? I think that’s what I heard.”
“No,” Emma said, “two years. They lived up the coast until four months ago when they moved here so Mrs. Jessop could be closer to her father.”
Randall folded his napkin, and set it on the table. “Okay, Emma, spill. Might as well get it all out now.”
“All of it this time, okay?” Molly said to Emma.
By the time Emma related all that she had told Molly, the table had been cleared. Molly quietly sipped her tea, wondering if it might be a good idea to case Emma away from Michelle until tempers cooled down and the killer was caught. They would still see each other at school, but sleep-overs should be a thing of the past. She also decided that once the furniture and accoutrements for the tasting room arrived and were placed, she was out of there as well.
Until the murder was solved, she thought that a low profile was in order. She couldn’t risk continued notoriety for herself or for Emma. They’d certainly had enough for one lifetime. So spooked by seeing herself in the news again, not to mention hearing the rumors that had been flying around town, she hadn’t even picked up the mail at the post office for two days. Grocery marketing was most likely going to be a challenge as well. She would have to shop in Monterey for a while. With her orange El Camino pickup in trashed-car heaven, the white minivan was a sudden blessing.
“That’s it? All of it? You’re sure?” Randall asked Emma.
“All that I can remember. Honest.”
“Okay, great job, Sherlock. You hear anything else, you let me know.”
“I think,” Loomis said, “we have enough to get started. I’ll talk to my buddy in the sheriffs department and see what I can weasel out of him.”
“You know someone there?” Molly said.
“Sergeant Farley and I are old friends. He’s from Oxnard originally. I ran into him one day at Brinton’s. Talk about surprise! He’s been up here for a few years now. He’ll be our pulse. He owes me big-time.” Loomis pulled out a small notebook and made some notes. He looked at Randall for a minute, then said, “I think I’ll head up to Palo Alto tomorrow and do some digging on this new wrinkle.”
“Ohhh,” Emma said with renewed interest, “what’s that?”
Molly hadn’t told Emma about her visitor. The less she knew, the better. Her passing on what she had heard at the Mattucci ranch was the end of her involvement. She didn’t have to give Randall a high-sign. She knew he would handle it.
“Another case, Nancy Drew,” Randall said.
“Okay, I get it. Butt out, huh?”
“Right. Stick to algebra and chemistry or whatever the heck they teach you kids these days.”
“Say, Molly,” Loomis said, “I meant to tell you about my pal in the sheriffs department. He collects duck decoys. You ever get a bead on any of those, let me know.”
It was apparent Loomis’s intent was to move the conversation away from the murder, and Molly was glad to cooperate. A few Hail Marys would be worth a small lie. “Uh, I just might have a lead for you,” she quickly said. “Let me check my dealer list. I think there’s one in the City who specializes in them. I’ll get his name and number for you.”
“Great. He’s also into paperweights. I’ll bring him by the shop. You still have a few of those left?”
“It just so happens I do. Come by anytime.” Molly said.
Randall made a show of looking at his watch. “I’m gonna pass on dessert.”
“Me, too,” Molly said. “I can’t keep eating like this.” She smiled at a silent Emma. “We’ll hit the beach tomorrow morning and get back on schedule, okay? I need to get rid of some of this blubber.”
Emma stole a quick glance at Randall, then said, “Good idea. Guess that means it’s early to bed then.”
“Before anyone reaches for the bill,” Loomis said. “It’s my treat. No arguments.”
“You want us to walk you two home?” Randall asked.
“No, we’re fine,” Molly said. “I’m not being stalked by the paparazzi yet, and we’re only three blocks away. Besides, I have to stop at the post office and get my mail. I haven’t been there for a couple of days, and the box is probably jammed full.”
Molly quickly shoved the post card from Berlin into her tote before Emma turned away from the posters on the bulletin board in the post office. “Can you take some of these catalogs?” she asked. “I’ve got a load of them again.”
Emma reached for them and said, “Any good ones this time? All you get are auction catalogs and women’s clothes. Don’t they have any for people my age?”
“Better you don’t get addicted,” Molly said, and laughed.
The walk home took twice as long as usual. Molly purposely took her time, stopping every now and then, pretending to check out a few of the new antiques dealers who had opened up recently. The postcards were now becoming a gnawing problem. As if she didn’t have enough on her mind, she needed this as well? Three blank cards in ten days were more than a busy customer or friend in too much of a hurry would send. If the sender were a secret admirer, she was worried instead of being curious or impressed. Molly stared into one of the art galleries and realized she hadn’t turned this latest card over. Maybe this time there was a message. She decided she would examine it when they got home and Emma was in bed.
As they neared Ocean Avenue, Emma said, “I’m not impressed with that new shop, Hall’s, are you? Those old pharmacist’s jars they had in the window were in bad shape. Did you notice the gilding was gone? And the gilt scroll banner was all scratched up?”
Emma paused and touched Molly’s arm. ‘Aunt Molly? Hello?”
“Sorry,” Molly said. “I was, uh, thinking the same thing. You’re right, not very good quality.”
“You looked a million miles away. I wasn’t sure if you’d heard me. You’re not mad at me, are you?”
Molly stopped at the corner. “Why would I be mad at you?”
Emma linked her arm in Molly’s as they crossed the street. “Because I was smart-mouthed with Randall? I was. I know it.”
Hugging her close, Molly smiled. “Yes, you were. I think maybe this was a good lesson for you, huh? And maybe for all of us. We forget sometimes that you’re—”
“Still a kid. I know.”
“Well, yes, but even though we sometimes forget your age, there are some conversations you shouldn’t join. And good manners you should remember.”
“I can’t help it if I have an inquiring mind.”
Molly laughed. “No, you can’t. Thank God that you do. But just keep it focused on your studies and not this terrible tragedy. We’re not involved, and we’re going to keep it that way.”
They were about to climb the outside stairs to the apartment when Emma said, “Shoot. You forgot to change the lightbulb again. Good thing Randall and Loomis didn’t walk us home.”
Molly sighed. “Amen to that.”
When they entered the shop, Molly saw the red light on her recorder blinking. “I’ve got some messages. You go on up. I won’t be long.” Molly settled her tote on the floor and saw that there were three messages. She found a notepad, grabbed a pen, and then hit the play button. The first call was from Bitsy. “Molly! Call me the minute you get home. I have some breaking news you just have to tell Randall about.” Molly paused before she pressed the play button again. She was torn between calling Bitsy right away and retrieving the rest of the messages. She knew Bitsy had a flair for the dramatic, but one never knew.
Well, it would only take a moment to find out who else called.
The second call was a man’s voice. He didn’t leave his name, only that he’d recently purchased a ship from her and would be back to see her tomorrow. Molly immediately remembered him. He was the older man who had also bought the silver pitcher from the Del Monte Hotel and who had asked Bitsy so many questions about her and Emma. What could he possibly want now? The third call was from Susan Jessop. She left a number and asked Molly to call her as soon as she got in.
Damn! Molly thought. I don’t need this. I’m not calling her back. And I am not going to get involved, and that’s final!
She punched in Bitsy’s number and waited for her to answer.
“I was about ready to come looking for you!” Bitsy told Molly. “I think you should consider a trip out of town until all this blows over. Todd Jessop’s murder hit the inside of the San
Francisco Chronicle
, and you and Randall were mentioned as being interviewed by the fuzz. Max and I have been on the phone, and this is what we’ve decided. You and Emma are going up to his condo in Sonoma, and I’ll take care of the shop, and then—”
“Whoa!” Molly said. “I am not leaving town, and that’s final. It isn’t necessary. I’ve done nothing wrong, and neither has Randall. Besides, I was already told by Detective Reynolds not to leave. We’ve both given our statements, and that should be the end of it.”
“This doesn’t look good for the shop, Molly.”
That did it. Not only was Molly furious to know Bitsy and Max were back running her life, they hadn’t had the courtesy to consult with her first. “The shop will survive this. In fact, its reputation has been enhanced by my, uh, previous involvements.”
“What about Emma?” Bitsy threw in.
“What about her?”
“Well, I was thinking it might be best if she didn’t spend too much time with Carla’s daughter for a while. You know, in case, well, in case Carla is involved.”
Molly’s voice was a bit colder than she’d planned. “I’ve already taken care of that. Emma understands.”
“You’re angry with us, aren’t you?”
Molly sighed. “No, not angry. Just maybe annoyed that you and Max are making assumptions and plans without talking it over with me.”
“Point taken, darling. Don’t mention this to Max. I’ll call him and say that I’d thought it over and that maybe we were overreacting. How’s that sound?” Bitsy said.
Molly immediately realized that all of this was Bitsy’s idea, and that she didn’t want Max to know she’d been meddling again. “Great. I’ll leave it up to you. I appreciate both your concerns, and I know they’re from love. Oh, by the way, uh...I’m dying to know how you knew Del Tinsley? I don’t recall you ever mentioning her. She said she used to work for you.”
The long pause from Bitsy’s end spoke volumes to Molly. She didn’t let her off the hook, and waited her out. Finally, Bitsy said, “Oh, honey, Del and I go back centuries. I knew her in Reno. She worked at one of the casinos I frequented. I forget which one now.”
“Really? What did she do?” Molly asked.
“Do? Lord, I can’t remember. I think she was a hostess, or something. Look, sweetie, I’ve got to run. I’m having a late dinner with some of the girls. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay? Give Emma a kiss for me when you tuck her in.”
Molly was laughing when she hung up. It wasn’t often that one found Bitsy Morgan in a rush to get off the phone. Molly listened again to the message from the man who’d bought the ship, and the one from Susan Jessop. She looked at her notepad and stared at Susan’s number. She decided not to give her Loomis’s name and number. Loomis would have his hands full with Randall’s needs. She threw the note in the wastebasket and turned off the desk lamp.
As far as she was concerned, that lady was on her own.
Chapter 18
AT SIX A.M. SHARP, Molly threw off the duvet, turned offher alarm clock, and headed for Emma’s room. It was time to get back to the beach and try to knock some pounds off. She also hoped she might shake off her lingering doubts about not becoming a part of Jessop’s murder investigation. She tapped on Emma’s door. “It’s Tuesday morning, it’s glorious outside, and we’re off to the beach. Last one ready to go is a lazybones.”