The Chocolate Jewel Case: A Chocoholic Mystery (24 page)

“How did you find out about Art’s . . . activities?”

“I began to hear about these burglaries, and they were happening to people I knew. Or at least knew about.”

She turned to Alex Gold. “Art was
an antique finder, you know. At least, that’s what he told me. He never had a shop, though sometimes he’d help in mine, and he was very knowledgeable about the field. Mainly he cruised around, looking at estate sales and tag sales. He’d be gone a week or more, and when he came back, he’d have a panel truck full of tables, dishes—small items. We were careful to keep our businesses separate. If he had
costume jewelry or china or something else I might be able to sell, I’d pay him for it. His prices were quite reasonable. I thought he was giving me preferential treatment! Then I got a flyer from the Michigan Antique Dealers. They described a tea service that had been stolen in Grosse Pointe. I nearly fainted. I had it in the shop at that moment, and Art had brought it to me.

“Then I thought
back, and I realized that a lot of the places that had been burglarized were places I’d visited or heard of, then had discussed with Art.”

“What did you do?”

“I’m not shy! As soon as Art came home, I confronted him! And he didn’t even deny it. He just laughed and said, ‘What you didn’t know didn’t hurt you.’ I was furious.”

I reached for Gina’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Gina.”

“I told him our marriage
was over. I said he’d have to get out.”

“How did he react?”

“Oh, with sweet talk. He promised to reform, to keep his business legitimate. That time.”

“That time?”

Gina smiled sadly. “Of course, he didn’t mean it. I found that out fast enough. A month later I found more questionable goods stashed in the back of his van.”

“The white van with the orange sign on the door.”

“Yes, that belonged
to Art. Plus, he had a blue Ford pickup he used sometimes.” Gina sighed. “I rummaged around and discovered that he had three sets of magnetic signs for that van! And he had extra license plates for it, too! Then I found a driver’s license with Art’s picture, but Andy’s name and birth date!”

I nodded. “He’d raided the family records.”

“I see now that I’d almost encouraged him to do it. I’d told
him all about Andy being drowned, and, well, I think he pumped Mama. He was really nice to her, took her out to lunch, things like that. Mama had always said Art had the Atkins mouth. He was a third cousin, you know. But it never occurred to me that he’d steal Andy’s identity!

“When I found that driver’s license, I told Art it was all over. For good. That was two months ago.”

“Did he leave your
house?”

“Yes. Not that he’d been there much anyway. But he packed his stuff up—including the things I thought were stolen—and moved out. I knew I should go to the police, but somehow I couldn’t. I filed for divorce. I thought that was the end of it.”

“What happened next?”

“Some . . . well, I can only call them thugs . . . These two thugs showed up looking for Art. They came right in the house,
looked all around. I was scared to death.”

“Did you call the police?”

“I threatened to do that. That’s when the party got rough.”

Alex Gold seemed to turn pale. “Oh, Gina! They didn’t use force!”

“Actually, no. That was what was so frightening. They didn’t yell or threaten me. They spoke very softly, but they made it clear that if I called the police, they’d kill me. I’m not sure what words
they used, but they got their meaning across. And after they could see I was scared enough to obey them, then they threatened Art.”

“And you didn’t want to see him hurt.”

“No!” Gina pulled a handkerchief from the pile of things she’d unloaded from her purse. “I still had some feelings for him.”

“Of course you did, Gina.”

“They didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t know where Art had gone.
They ended up by telling me I’d better find Art and tell him to contact Haney or we’d both be in a lot of trouble.”

“Haney! Who is Haney?”

“I didn’t know. I still don’t know!”

“Had Art ever mentioned anyone named Haney?”

“Never. Honey, I was scared to death.”

“Is that when you came over here?”

“No, first I wrote Art.”

“I thought you didn’t know where he was.”

“I didn’t. All I had was a
Detroit box number. But I never got an answer. Then the two thugs came back. They threatened me again.”

“Gina, you were really up a creek!”

“Yes, and not one paddle to help me out. All I could think to do was run away.”

“So you came over here.”

“As near as I could tell, the two thugs weren’t watching me. So I drove over to Holland by a route so odd that I thought I would notice if someone
was following me. I put the car in a garage and paid to leave it for a while. Then I took a cab to the Chevy dealership and called Joe. Bless his heart! He came right over and picked me up.”

“Why didn’t you tell us all of this, Gina?”

“I didn’t want to get you involved.”

I resisted the temptation to growl at her. She hid out in our house, but didn’t want to get us involved. That made a terrific
amount of sense.

Gina was speaking again. “Then you and Joe witnessed the robbery here at the Double Diamond cottage. And the next day I heard you telling Joe one of the robbers had worn jazz shoes!”

“Had Art worn shoes like that?”

“He hadn’t worn them, but I’d seen an odd pair of shoes in his truck. I didn’t know what they were. But when I heard you describe them to Joe, I knew that was what
I’d seen.” She leaned forward. “I nearly choked! You called to me to see if I was all right.”

I nodded. “I remember. So you thought Art must have been involved in the robbery.”

“Yes! And he did have a bunion. So I started trying to find him.”

“You called all the motels in Holland.”

“Did you hear me? I waited until you were in the shower.”

“There are no secrets in that house, Gina. I overheard
one of your calls. Did you find Art?”

“Yes! I mean, no! It was awful, Lee! Art was registered at one of the motels—as Andy Woodyard! When I asked to be connected to his room, one of those thugs answered! So I ran!”

“But, Gina, the thug couldn’t have known where you were just from a phone call.”

“But he did, Lee! As soon as he heard my voice, he began to laugh. It was a horrible sort of giggle.
And he called me by name. ‘Well, Ms. Gina,’ he said. ‘So you didn’t know where Art was, huh? We’ll be out to your nephew’s house to get you next!’ ”

She took a deep breath. “It was all I could do to answer him.”

“He didn’t come to the house looking for you. What on earth did you say to head him off?”

“I said, ‘Oh, I’ll be gone by the time you’re here.’ And I grabbed my purse and ran. I had
an awful bad moment when I heard that little blond dog. I didn’t want to run into one of the neighbors! But I hid behind the Baileys’ house, and that fellow Harold didn’t stop to see what the dog was barking at.”

She looked at Alex Gold with melting eyes. “You had said that Alex was at Double Diamond, so I ran straight to him. And he saved me.”

Alex Gold looked back with a gaze as melting as
Gina’s. He was obviously completely smitten.

Dyed hair, gaudy clothes and all—the woman was amazing.

Shaking my head, I went to the door and summoned the young patrolman. I introduced him to the missing aunt and told him she could identify the dead man. I added that she needed protection even more than I did. We waited at Double Diamond until he could call in and explain the situation to Underwood.
Then we stayed until Underwood could send a patrol car to pick up Gina.

While we were waiting, I kept the phone busy. I called our house and told the girls what was going on. I instructed them to explain things to Darrell. I tried Joe’s cell. It was turned off. I called the Warner Pier PD to try to find out about Pete’s car. The department secretary answered and said she didn’t know anything.

There was a lot going on.

As soon as a state police car arrived and took Gina away, I went back to our house with the Warner Pier patrolman trailing along. I packed a bag for me and one for Joe, then checked the refrigerator, loading up the milk, lettuce, and lunch meat to take to Mercy’s house. The temporary move was turning into a big mess. Even the thought of living in air-conditioning for
a few days wasn’t enticing. I wanted to be in my own place.

Darrell drove off in his truck with his belongings in the camper, something like a tortoise carrying his home along. He told me he was headed for Joe’s boat shop. The girls were dawdling, of course, but I hollered up the stairs, urging them to finish up. I planned to take my own van this trip, but we’d help the patrolman if we were all
ready to go at the same time.

While I was waiting, I did one last circuit of the downstairs, and when I looked at the screened-in porch I saw Pete’s sleeping bag and canvas carryall piled out there.

Where was Pete? If we all left, the police wouldn’t keep a continuous check on the house. Did Pete have anything that might be valuable?

How about his pistol?

I called Joe to ask his advice on
what to do with his buddy’s belongings. Joe’s phone was still out of service. I’d have to use my own judgment. I squared my shoulders, went out onto the screened-in porch, opened the carryall, and began to look through Pete’s stuff.

I was very pleased not to find the pistol. Pete must have taken it with him. It wasn’t in my house, so it wasn’t my responsibility.

Pete’s camera was there, however,
and his laptop. I stuck the camera into my purse and zipped the laptop into its carrying case. The girls finally came downstairs with their stuff, and we got into our respective vehicles and left.

I think the next two hours were the worst part of the whole thing. I wasn’t being guarded, but I had to promise not to leave Mercy’s house. Joe didn’t call. Underwood didn’t call. I was too distracted
to read or watch television. All I could do was pace the floor and gnaw my fingernails.

When the phone finally rang, I could feel my heart lurch. I saw a familiar number on Mercy’s caller ID, and I snatched up the receiver.

“Joe! What’s going on?”

He sighed. “I have good news and bad news. And I hear you do, too.”

“If you mean finding Gina. Yes, that was good. Have you seen her?”

He had seen
Gina, but hadn’t talked to her. I recapped her story as fast as possible. “So the good news is, she’s safe,” I said. “The bad news is that she might be charged as some sort of accomplice in these burglaries.”

“If she tells everything she knows now, that probably won’t happen.”

“I hope not. Now, what’s your news?”

“I’ll start with the good. The state police have picked up the tall guy and the
short guy.”

“The ones who were at the house last night?”

“The ones we
think
were at the house last night. Anyway, they were in a blue truck registered as belonging to Art Atkins. Since Gina has identified the murder victim as Art, that’s enough to hold them on right there.”

“Good! Because I’m not sure I could swear they were the two in the house.”

“You won’t have to. They’re also suspects
in the disappearance of Pete.”

“He hasn’t turned up? But Pete’s so . . . competent. It’s hard to believe that something has happened to him.”

“I know. I’ve been telling myself that since last night.”

“And you said they found his SUV.”

“They did. But there’s no sign of him anywhere near it.”

“No tracks or anything?”

“It’s on a gravel road. Little possibility of tracks.”

“Are they looking
for this Haney?”

“Oh, yeah. There’s one family named Haney in Warner County. The dad teaches English at Dorinda High, and the mom is a secretary at the Dorinda Reformed Church. The children are preschoolers. All of them have loads of alibis. That seems to be a dead end.”

Joe and I were both quiet for a long time before I spoke. “Can I go to work?”

“It’s probably all right. Just don’t go roaming
around, okay?”

“I’m not really dumb, Joe.”

“I know. But you’re real important to me. Until we know who this Haney is, don’t take any chances.”

We hung up, but I didn’t feel a lot better. Where could Pete be? I’d found him a day earlier, but that had been a fluke—a deduction from one of his photographs.

Photographs! I realized that I had Pete’s camera in my purse. If I looked at the photos
stored in it, maybe I’d get a clue as to where Pete had been hanging out. Maybe there’d be some other place I could identify, someplace besides the River Villa with its distinctive red roof.

I dumped the contents of my purse out on the kitchen table and grabbed the camera.