Chapter 24

 

“Detective Caplin and that young man who works for the museum—do they know each other well?” Pen asked Benton on the way home.

They were in his car, and she was feeling the adrenaline letdown after the evening’s previous rush of nerves. She nestled into her seat and closed her eyes against the glare of oncoming traffic on Interstate 10.

“I have no idea,” Benton said, watching his mirrors for an opportune lane change. “I assume you’re thinking in terms of the robbery and your missing necklace?”

He didn’t have to ask. Pen had told him about the disappointing news from Caplin and her subsequent debacle with the private investigator.

“I imagine they must have had contact,” Benton said. “After all, Caplin surely questioned everyone at the museum right after it happened.”

“True. He did. It’s just that I saw the two of them talking tonight, off in the shadows, away from the party. It just seemed odd.”

“And I bet you’ll soon find out. In all our years together, Pen, I’ve never known you to let many questions remain unanswered.”

He reached for her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. They had exited the freeway and he was following the familiar route to her hillside home. She glanced at his handsome profile, reminded of the day they met. Hard to believe it was more than twenty years ago.

She’d been working on her first novel, in retrospect a pitiful thing that never made it to a publisher’s desk. Part of her plot revolved around the prosecution of a felony murder case and she had no idea, aside from television stories, how such a thing worked. She’d called the district attorney’s office and asked to speak with someone who could answer her questions. A community relations person was supposed to return her call but when four days went by with no call from the woman, Pen simply drove downtown and marched in.

The CR was out with the flu. The district attorney himself walked through the room, turned to an attorney who was standing there and asked if he could take care of the lovely lady. It was Benton Case. With his salt-and-pepper hair and blue eyes, the man in the perfectly tailored suit charmed her immediately.

Penelope and Benton had discussed her questions for the novel over lunch. It turned out to be pure luck that put them together. Benton had retired from his position as District Attorney several years earlier to start his own private practice. It was coincidence that he’d stopped at the office that morning. He, of course, didn’t have to follow the new DA’s request. He admitted he did so merely to get to know Pen better.

Within two months they were lovers, a carefree arrangement both of them accepted for what it was. Pen, with two previous marriages behind her, had no desire to push for another. Benton, widowed years earlier, had a busy law practice to fill his days. They traveled together and saw a lot of the world. Eventually, he received an offer to sell the practice and he happily retired to golf. Sex became infrequent and the relationship settled into one of pleasant companionship shared by two dear friends. They were each other’s choice for social occasions which required one to bring a date. He still answered her questions about the law; she still loved having him along as a traveling companion when she went on her ever-less-frequent book tours.

He steered his Lexus up the hillside and parked at her front door.

“Come in for a nightcap?” she asked.

It was tradition with them and would have been rude not to ask but, truthfully, she had her mind on the photos Gracie had emailed to her earlier. She hoped the picture quality would be good enough to read details on the documents her friends had found in Stan Higgins’ office.

Benton walked around to the passenger door and opened it. An old-fashioned tradition, one most women would either refuse or had never experienced these days. But Pen enjoyed the small acts of gentlemanly kindness and she waited to take his hand.

Inside, she poured his favorite, Drambuie on the rocks, and brewed herself a cup of tea. Conversation dwindled but it was all right. They sat on the back patio staring at her incomparable view of the city lights. When he left, a half hour later, she hoped her goodbye didn’t seem too eager.

As his taillights vanished down the driveway, Pen rushed to her office and entered her computer password. Emails from both Gracie and Amber awaited. She opened Gracie’s first.

The first photo showed the front of a safe with a heavy handle and a keypad of numbers, along with a little panel with lights that presumably showed its status as locked. Not sure what I’m supposed to do with this, she thought.

The other photos showed documents with very tiny print. It appeared the ladies had found items of interest, but Pen’s eyes were tired and she wasn’t sure how to enlarge the pictures enough to make them readable. She set that message aside and went to Amber’s. Copies had gone out to the whole group.

We need to meet. Found very interesting info on Richard Stone.