A Devious Lot (Antiques & Collectibles Mysteries Book 5) (9 page)

Read A Devious Lot (Antiques & Collectibles Mysteries Book 5) Online

Authors: Ellery Adams,Parker Riggs

Tags: #Murder, #honeymoon, #England, #brooch, #antiques, #Romance, #mystery, #Cozy

BOOK: A Devious Lot (Antiques & Collectibles Mysteries Book 5)
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Molly laughed.

“What’s funny?” he asked.

“You know how Kitty and Lex are always calling each other?” Her best friend Kitty, and her husband, Lex, worked together at their auction company in North Carolina. They spent every waking moment together, but if they were apart for more than an hour, they had to place a phone call to touch base. It drove Molly crazy. “For the first time in my life,” she said, “the thought of not being near you is giving me heart palpitations. I’m turning into Kitty the lovebird!”

“Then I guess I’m turning into Lex,” he said and laughed. “We have cell phones and the international call plan is already set up. We’ll extend the dates and talk every day.” He pushed her hair back from her face. “I love you, Molly. Being apart for a little while won’t change that.”

Molly kissed him. “Okay, if Swanson gives me a green light, and if my mother agrees to fly over, I’ll stay with Tessa.”

“Good. I’ll look up flights so you can tell your mother when you call her in the morning.”

“What? Hold on, buster.” Molly shook her head. “I’m not calling her. You are.”

“Why me?”

“Because she adores you, Matt. If you ask her, she’ll say yes. If I ask her, she’ll lecture me about getting involved in another murder investigation. I’ll never hear the end of it.” She smiled sweetly. “And my demands don’t stop there. When I call Swanson, you have to stand by my side, in case I need to hand the phone over to you. Promise?”

He crossed his heart with his index finger. “Promise,” he said.

Chapter 7

 

“Tiffany’s murder is front-page news this morning,” Tessa said. She was sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper when Molly came downstairs and lifted it up to show her the headline:
Local Woman Found Murdered at White Dove Cottage.
“There’s no mention of the kind of poison used.”

“Boyle must be keeping it from the press for now,” Molly said. “We probably shouldn’t say anything about it to anyone.” She went to the coffee machine, and after a minute of getting her bearings, pressed the right buttons and made an espresso. “Matt and I were talking last night,” she said. “If I can get permission from my boss, and Mom is willing, I’m going to stay here with you while Matt goes home, and Mom will take his place.”

“What?” Tessa put the newspaper down on the table. “I can’t ask you to do that. You should go home and be with your husband. I’ll be fine.”

Molly sat down next to her. “Please let us do this for you. If the police haven’t found Tiffany’s killer in a few weeks, we’ll reevaluate. You might be feeling well enough to travel by then, and we could celebrate Christmas in Vermont.”

Tessa squeezed her hand. “You’re a lovely girl, Molly. Thank you.”

Molly smiled. “Now all we have to do is convince my boss and my mother. This is a high hurtle.”

“Not so high,” Matt said as he came into the kitchen. “Swanson agreed, as long as you submit some articles to him on the antiquing world in England.”

“You called him?” Molly jumped up and hugged him. “Thank you! I was dreading that phone call. But wait a minute. Isn’t it the middle of the night on the East Coast?”

“It is, but I emailed him and your mother before we went to bed last night, and he replied. And speaking of your mother, she wrote a few minutes ago and said you should call her.”

“Mom’s awake?”

“She said she couldn’t sleep.”

Molly put the call on speaker phone. After she was assured her mother wasn’t ill, they sat around the kitchen table and talked pleasantries for a while, and then Molly got down to business and told her everything about Tiffany’s death and their idea for her to fly to England. There was silence on the other end of the line. Molly glanced at Matt, but he didn’t look concerned. Tessa, she noticed, had crossed her fingers.

Finally, Clara said, “All right, I’ll do it. It’s been too long since I’ve paid you a visit, Tessa.”

“Thank you, dear,” Tessa said. “It will be lovely to see you.”

“Matt, what’s the best flight?” Clara asked. Matt told her. “Perfect. I’ll use my credit card to book it, and you can pay me back later.”

Molly blew out her breath. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it in. “Thanks, Ma,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Clara said. “Now, if Matt and Tessa don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you in private.”

Uh-oh, Molly thought. She didn’t like the tone of her mother’s voice. She took her phone off speaker and walked down the hall, steeling herself for a scolding. When she was settled on the sofa in the sitting room, she said, “Please don’t yell at me.”

“I never yell at you,” Clara said. “But really, Molly, this has to stop.”

Molly feigned ignorance. “Stop what?”

“You know what I mean, young lady . . . finding dead bodies.”

“It’s not like I go looking for them,” Molly huffed.

Clara sighed. “I know you don’t,” she said. “But I’m your mother, and I reserve the right to worry about you.”

“Fine, you can worry about me. Is that all you have to say?”

“No, that’s not all. Lombardi stopped by the Treasure Trove yesterday, asking after you and Matt. He thought you did a wonderful job organizing your wedding, despite being in the middle of a murder investigation at the time. He particularly enjoyed the reception.”

“Of course he did,” Molly said. “He took a pretty young girl as his date.”

“What’s this? You sound jealous,” Clara said.

“Why would I be jealous?”

“We both know Lombardi has a crush on you, and I think secretly, you like it.”

“That’s ridiculous, Ma. I admit, he may have had a tiny crush on me when we first met, but I set him straight and that was that.”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, when he thinks no one else is looking.”

Molly frowned. “Lombardi is my friend, and he’s become Matt’s friend, too.”

“Well, as his friend, I suggest you encourage this new relationship. He needs to look for available, and greener, pastures.”

“Why? It will never last because he doesn’t learn. He dates the same woman every time. Linda’s just another in a long line of stick-thin blonds with big boobs and no brains.”

“Her name is Lena.”

“Whatever. She’s too young for him.”

“She’s not too young,” Clara said. “And she’s not brainless. She’s a grad student at the University of Vermont.”

“Good for her.”

“You’re being very unkind,” Clara said. “Lombardi deserves a good woman in his life, and someone intelligent, like Lena. When you get home, you should invite them to go out with you and Matt.”

Molly groaned out loud. “You want us to double-date with Lombardi and his latest fling?”

“He respects your opinion, and Matt’s. You can both be a good influence on him. He’s too old to be a bachelor.”

“Says you,” Molly said. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. Is this what you wanted to talk to me about in private?” She shook her head, as if her mother could see her. She’d been a little worried lately that her mother was treating Lombardi like the son she’d never had. Every time she made a large meal, she set some aside to give him. “Lombardi’s a grown man,” Molly went on. “He can do whatever he wants with his life. You’re not his mother, and I’m not his dating agency.” She loved her mother, respected her opinion, but she was done talking about Lombardi. “Make your plane reservation and send me an email when you get the confirmation. And Ma?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Get some sleep.”

Chapter 8

 

It was almost noon when Molly walked to the village alone. The sky was eggshell blue, and a stiff breeze stirred up dried leaves, giving off that sweet dusty smell that always made her think of fall football games, hot dogs, and hot chocolate that burned the roof of her mouth. The High Street seemed quiet, the park was empty. She stopped first at Bits & Pieces, but the lights were off, and the door seemed genuinely locked. She checked her watch. They should have opened two hours ago. She wondered if Boyle was mistaken about Giles’s lack of emotion. If he was in shock about Tiffany’s death, his absence that morning could be a result of his being too distraught to work. Or maybe he didn’t care that she was dead, but was worried sick that Penelope was missing.

The Lion’s Head Pub was across the street. Molly pushed through the door and was amazed to find it so modern. She was guilty of holding a preconceived concept of British pubs. She thought they should all be dark with cozy nooks and low wood-beamed ceilings. The Lion’s Head Pub was open and airy. The bar, tables, and booths were made of light teak wood. A few of the tables and one booth were occupied. A thin young woman in jeans and a vintage crocheted hippie poncho sweater sat at the bar. Molly went over and sat four stools down from her. The bartender was refilling the woman’s coffee, and Molly noticed her glaring at her through the back-bar mirror with small beady eyes.

The bartender came over to Molly and smiled. He was the right age to be Troy Stanton. He had a small beer belly, dark hair, and a thick beard.

“Good morning,” he said. “Do you know what you’d like, or do you need to see a menu?”

Molly had eaten breakfast only a few hours ago, but she was hungry again. She’d worked up an appetite on her walk from Foxcoat Cottage to the village center.

“I’ll have a regular coffee and a slice of pie,” she said. “What kind would you recommend?”

“Banana cream is my favorite.”

“Sounds good to me,” Molly said. He went off and she glanced at the skinny woman. She was unnerved to find her still staring at her. The bartender returned with her coffee and pie.

“Are you Troy Stanton?” she asked.

“Yes, I am,” he said.

Molly held out her hand. “Molly Appleby. Tessa Paulson’s niece. My husband, Matt, and I are visiting.”

“Oh, yeah? She taught me at school years ago. Nice lady.”

“I’m beginning to think she taught the entire village,” Molly said.

“No doubt she has,” he said.

Molly stirred cream into her coffee. “Tessa told me you grew up on the same street as Tiffany Hadley.”

Troy’s smile instantly vanished. “Yeah, I did.”

“You’ve heard what happened?”

“Hasn’t everyone?”

“Were you friends with her?”

Troy glanced at the skinny woman, who was hunched over her coffee and glaring at them.

“We rode the bus to school together every day for twelve years,” he said. Molly knew village children attended school in Keensburg because the village wasn’t big enough to have its own, which meant the kids were on the bus together almost an hour every day. “Tiffany was a great girl, always friendly, cheerful. Everyone liked her.”

“Did you date?”

“Me and Tiff?” He laughed. “Nah, she wasn’t interested in me. As soon as Giles and his folks moved into Channing Hall, she only had eyes for him.”

“What about after graduation? Did you stay in touch?”

“Not really,” he said. “It wasn’t until she moved back a few months ago that I started getting to know her again. She came in to eat her meals. She was a terrible cook.”

“Tessa told me she gave her a raisin bread.”

“She probably bought it at Tasty Tidbits.”

“Did she talk to you about the breakup with Giles?”

Troy placed his hands on the bar. “Why all the questions?”

“I’m curious, that’s all,” she said. “Tessa’s been talking about her so much. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Troy sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now what we talked about. I already told a cop who showed up here last night. She talked about Giles a lot when she first got here, but lately she started talking about going back to London. I wish she had; maybe she’d still be alive.”

“That’s interesting,” she said. “When did she tell you this?”

“A few weeks ago,” he said.

Molly took a bite of the pie. “Mm. This is delicious.”

“Glad you like it,” he said. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe. I bought this place from my dad six years ago. Changed it from a smelly old pub to something hip and modern. There wasn’t any banana cream pie on the menu when he ran the place. The sweetest thing he served was honey-roasted peanuts.”

Molly smiled. “I’m glad there is now,” she said.

The skinny woman slapped some money on the bar and hopped off the stool. She came directly over to Molly.

“You’re talking about Tiffany,” she said.

Troy looked annoyed. “Alice, please. It’s a private conversation,” he said.

Alice laughed. “Private? What a joke. We’re in a pub, Troy.”

Molly said, “Hi, I’m Molly. Who are you?”

“Alice Wilson,” she said. “I was good friends with Tiffany.”

Troy shook his head. “No, you weren’t.”

“Yes.” She stared at him. “I was.”

“Alice, it’s time for you to go,” he said.

“You can’t kick me out, I haven’t done anything wrong.” She turned back to Molly. “She was my best friend until Giles moved here with his snooty parents, always looking down their noses at everyone. It figures he and Tiff got together. She became such a snob when she met him, didn’t have time for me anymore, told me to bugger off and find a new friend.” She plucked at the yarn on her poncho and her eyes narrowed angrily. “She wouldn’t talk to me after she moved back. I saw her on the street and waved. I wanted to talk to her, but you know what she did? She crossed to the other side. She was avoiding me. She used to be nice when we were kids.”

Troy pointed to the door. “Alice, you need to go. You’ll be late for work.”

Alice stuck her tongue out at Troy, surprising Molly. She had to be thirty years old, but was acting like a juvenile. “I’ll leave,” Alice said. “But be honest, Troy. You were always jealous of Giles, because you wanted to go to prom with Tiffany but she said no.”

Alice didn’t give Troy time to reply. She turned and marched out the door.

Troy shook his head. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Alice is delusional.”

“Is it true, what she said about you wanting to go to prom with Tiffany?”

“Yeah, it is,” he said. “I only asked her because I thought she and Giles were on the outs. It was the last year of school, and they were fighting about their future together. Actually, they fought about that a lot. But at that time, it was about how they were going to stay in touch, with her going to London to study hair design and Giles going to Oxford to study God knows what. I was amazed he even got into Oxford.” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Giles isn’t the brightest bulb in the box, if you know what I mean. People around here think his father paid someone in admissions off. Anyway, they got back together and that was the end of it. I asked Paula Johnston to the prom and had a great time. She’s a good dancer.”

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