The Jewelry Case (32 page)

Instantly, he released her. She rubbed her bruised upper arms, already missing his touch and wishing Steve hadn't hauled her out of her living room quite so roughly. She could have walked out of the house quite easily on her own, but her grape-growing neighbor had to be dramatic. Steve Lopez playing hero, like Erroll Flynn, or Bruce Willis, or the latest action star. And she’d thought
she
was the dramatic one!

That didn’t change the fact that Steve
had
been a hero. He’d saved her life, and she shouldn't quibble about how he had done it.

"Everybody in town must know about the fire by now,” she said. “I'll probably be getting a call from Shirley soon. Don't worry, Ian, the damage is not as bad as it looks. The firemen think the fire was limited to the kitchen."

"The heck with the house. What about
you
? Are you sure you’re all right?"

Self-consciously, she ran a hand across her cheek and stared at her blackened palm. She could only imagine what she looked like: even the oversized T-shirt she slept in was grimy, as were her bare legs poking out from under it. She shivered. If Steve hadn't arrived when he had.... If the firemen had pulled up only a few minutes later....

"I swallowed a little smoke, that's all. I’m fine." She looked at her hands. They were shaking, and she thought to herself,
Well, maybe not so fine
. "I'm going over to Steve's for breakfast. He invited me, since I won't be able to use my kitchen for a while."

"Neighborly of him," Ian said, scowling.

"Don't be mean. Steve saved my life." Suddenly exhaustion and shock caught up with her, and she plopped into the porch swing before her legs gave way again. Ian sat next to her, putting his arm around her shoulder. The porch appeared unscathed except for smudges of soot rimming the window sills like borders of black lace.

As Ian's arm tightened around her shoulder, she thought vaguely that they were starting to act like a couple, and yet they'd never really talked about their changing relationship. At some point, she'd have to tell him that, although his attentions were not unwelcome—a phrase Esther herself might have used in her courting days—they would not lead anywhere. She was just passing through River Bend for the summer, and soon, she would be leaving.

Because of these ruminations, she only caught the last of Ian's words: " ... And we'll find out who did it and make sure they're arrested."

Her head came up abruptly. "Find out who did it? You mean you think the fire was set on purpose?"

"Of course. This was no accident. I blame myself for not taking everything that happened before more seriously. You've been in danger ever since you came to River Bend, and I've ignored all the signs."

She shook her head vigorously. "You're being just as melodramatic as Steve Lopez. I'm just accident prone, that's all."

His intense expression did not alter. "I'll bet the firemen discover it was arson."

"But that's ridiculous. Why would anyone
—
?" She broke off, remembering her r conversation with Kevin yesterday. But of course, Kevin had nothing to do with this. The teenager had vowed he would never do anything to hurt her, and she believed him.

After a long pause, Paisley said slowly, "Are you telling me you believe this fire has something to do with Ruth's missing jewels?"

"Yes, I do."

"And yet yesterday you said...."

"That was before the fire."

She was silent for a moment longer. "This isn't exactly evidence. It's an old house, and there might have been bad wiring...."

"The wiring was fine. I brought everything up to code and did a thorough inspection when we were through. There was nothing wrong with the electricity."

"But we agreed that no one knows if the jewels are around here, so what motivation could there possibly be...? We've gone over this ad nauseum, Ian!"

"We don't know that they're
not
here," he pointed out grimly. "And it seems clear that someone else believes you have them, and they're willing to kill to get them."

"K-kill?" She stumbled over the word. She remembered that terrifying moment when she realized the house was on fire, and a cold feeling ran down her spine like an ice cube. Not Kevin. It couldn't be Kevin. Maude Avery would never have put him up to that, especially not after her peace mission yesterday. But if not
,
who?

Fear burned in her stomach like spilled acid, and she barely prevented herself from clutching Ian's arm. She’d been leaning on others too much for support these past few hours. She did not want to appear completely spineless, and besides, she did not want to buy into his paranoia. The fire was an accident, pure and simple. She'd left a burner on and forgot about it. It wouldn't be the first time she had done something foolish like that.

She shook her head again. "We've done plenty of crazy speculating before, but that was different. You can't speculate about something like murder."

"It's not crazy if it's true." His face had taken on its customary thoughtful look, as he were figuring out a complicated algorithm for erecting a skyscraper, but his eyes were colder than she had ever seen them before. "That burglary was no accident. If it turns out this fire was deliberately set, it proves that someone is willing to see you dead. If Steve hadn't seen the smoke in time, it could easily have spiraled into something tragic."

She passed over his comment about the burglary, not wanting to bring Kevin into the discussion. "But why would anyone want to see me dead?"

He gave her a long look. After a moment, her eyes dropped. "I know, I know," she mumbled. "The jewels. It always comes back to that, doesn't it? But it doesn't make sense. For the thousandth time, I don't have the jewelry, Ian, or anything else of value. And even if I did, how would burning down my house help them, whoever these imaginary persons might be?"

"I have no idea. Maybe they thought that you'd panic and grab the jewels, revealing their location. In any case, it's clear that they've upped the ante. If this started as a game, it isn't anymore."

She pulled away from his warmth. She needed to process this new idea, now that the shock from the fire was draining away. "Who would do such a thing?" she protested.

Without answering, Ian stood and paced across the gray-painted boards of the porch, rubbing his stubbled jaw. Waiting for him to finish his rumination, she wrapped her arms around her bare knees. Should she tell him that Kevin had been behind the burglary a couple of weeks ago? No. She was convinced the teenager had nothing to do with this latest incident, and the news would just prejudice Ian against him. Besides, Ian seemed so impressed with his own powers of deduction, she wanted to see what he came up with.

Finally Ian stopped and ran his hand through his sandy hair, leaving it standing on end like one of his crew's paintbrushes. "I was thinking about that list of suspects we made the other day. To make it unbiased, maybe you should put me on it too."

She rolled her eyes. "Next to me, you're the only person I'm sure had nothing to do with it." And Kevin, unreasonable as her certitude might seem to an outsider.

"Not necessarily. After all, I've had plenty of opportunity to lay the groundwork for an 'accidental' fire. I could even have been the one to burglarize through your house. I wouldn't even have had to break in, since I've been working here practically every day since you moved in."

She played along. "Okay. What would your motive be?"

He shrugged. "The same as for anyone else, of course. The jewels. Maybe I've been pretending to be on your side, using my charm to wheedle out any information you might have." He looked sideways at her, trying to look mysterious, and she laughed aloud. Ian could not look mysterious if his life depended on it. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. Another clich
é
. She seemed to be full of them these days.

"I have no information, as you know perfectly well," she said when she stopped laughing. "Besides, you didn't even look in the box that was hidden in Esther's room, when, for all you knew, it might have contained Ruth's rubies. Sorry, Ian, you're off the list. Any other suspects?"

"Don't you have any ideas? You're the heroine in this mystery, after all; I'm just the sidekick."

She considered. He was right. If there was some plot, she appeared to be at the center of it. "If Hercule Poirot was on the case, he'd probably include everyone in town," she said at last. "You hinted that the story about Esther and the jewels is better known than I'd believed. Doesn't that mean everybody might have a motive?"

Ian rubbed his chin again as if trying to conjure a genie from a magic lamp. "Maybe there's something to that theory. Closeted town meetings, furtive spying on the new woman in town.... In
Murder on the Orient Express
, they were all guilty, remember?" He perked up. "Maybe this house is bugged, and they're all over at the town hall, listening in on us right now." He gave up pacing and plopped back onto the porch swing, next to her.

She elbowed him in the ribs. "I was kidding, silly."

He grunted and rubbed his side. "So was I. At any rate, you need to file another police report. There was nothing funny about the fire."

She sobered. "You're right. It could have been serious. But I'm not going to file a police report. Not unless they prove it's an arson, which, I feel obliged to remind you, we have no reason to believe at this point."

"If it is, the time for amateur sleuthing is over, Paisley. We'd better let the experts take over at that point." He hesitated, looking into her eyes seriously. "Don't take this wrong, but maybe you should consider staying somewhere else for a while. You can always stay with me."

"That's funny. Steve asked me the same thing, remember?"

He didn't like that. He started to say something and bit it back. Eventually, he left, frustrated.

When he was gone, she was glad she had not told him that Kevin had been the "burglar." Ian would immediately have latched on to her young neighbor as the most likely suspect for the arson as well. If Kevin was tainted with suspicion for an act he did not commit, his young, promising life would be ruined. No, she had better keep that information to herself.

Chapter Fifteen

The "experts" agreed that the fire had likely started from an unattended burner on the ancient stove.

"Sure, it looks a bit odd this happened so soon after a burglary," Officer Elliott said, standing on the porch with his notepad and an unconcerned look on his blunt face. He wasn't the policeman who had shown up when she had called before, but the two could have been brothers, down to the silver-framed sunglasses, slight
enbonpoint
, and bushy tan mustache. "But there's no evidence to show this was a crime. My advice is to be more careful when cooking, ma'am."

So she was right, and Ian was wrong. She watched the officer drive away. It was a relief to be told some mysterious malefactor wasn’t targeting her, she told herself. Still, the incident had shaken her. Once opening night was over, she really should consider what to do with her future. In the light of recent events, Nigel's offer was growing more attractive. Now she knew that she liked teaching young people, the prospect of working at the conservatory no longer seemed such a dire prospect.

Better still, her voice was definitely coming back. Perhaps it was not as silky smooth or as powerful as it had been, but the improvement was encouraging. Even her limp was nearly gone; all that walking had been helpful. Soon, she thought hopefully, she might be able to take up the reins of her old career. It was time to send out emails to various opera companies, time to respond to the many concerned queries from her old peers and let everyone know she was still in the game. Soon, she would have no reason to stay in River Bend.

The thought did not bring her the joy she had thought it would. She pictured her new friends: Shirley, Ian, her students.... Maybe the decision would not be as easy to make as she had once thought.

#

After the arson team left, she was pulling smoke-damaged curtains outside in large plastic trash bags. She had just gone inside for another load when the doorbell rang. When Paisley opened the screen door, Shirley rushed in, dropped a bulging canvas tote bag on the floor, and swept her into a hug.

"I heard about what happened," Shirley said breathlessly. "I was out of town at a book fair, or I would have been over yesterday. Are you all right? Let me take a look at you."

"Not a singed eyebrow." Paisley struggled out of the hug. "Sit down, Shirley. You'll have to come out on the porch. The city truck came by this morning and took away most of the furniture. Besides, although the smoke is mostly gone, it's nicer outside. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No thanks, I brought
you
something." Shirley pulled a quart of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream out of the shopping bag. "I thought this might settle your nerves. It always works for me." She glanced at Paisley sideways. "Unless you never indulge before noon? I've heard about your abstemious habits."