“Mother! Wake up! You have to see this!”
I hurried out to the kitchen. Chloe and Cam stopped eating their breakfast when they saw me.
“They’re talking about you on TV, Grammy,” Cam said.
“OMG! Jennifer’s gonna be über jealous. All her grandmother does is make quilts.” Chloe giggled.
While I enjoyed having their attention, I looked to Lizzie to help me understand what was happening.
“It’s all over the news,” Lizzie pointed to the television.
Along the bottom of the screen was a red banner with yellow letters, announcing BREAKING NEWS. A serious-looking man read from a paper he held with both hands. “Last night, socialite and prominent citizen, Jacqueline Bannister-Pierce, was arrested for the murder of Stacey Jordan. The arrest came about after police were tipped off by a private investigator, former chief of police, Katherine Sullivan.”
Cam looked up at me. “That’s you, Grammy!”
“It wasn’t just me. Nathan and Brock were there, too.” I told them.
“Miss Jordan had been employed by Randolph Pierce, nephew of the accused, to assist with renovations at Buckhorn manor. Ownership of the mansion is scheduled to be transferred to the state of Minnesota on the centennial of its groundbreaking, which is later this year. Mrs. Bannister-Pierce, seventy-two, has been struggling with mental health problems for years. She is scheduled to be examined by a court-appointed psychiatrist who will determine if she is fit to stand trial. At this time, she is being held at the county jail. Her longtime companion, Henry Slater, forty-five, was also arrested. Mr. Slater allegedly tampered with evidence at the crime scene, interfering with the police investigation. If you’re interested in learning more about the history of the Pierce family, and Buckhorn mansion, go to our website. Once again, Jacqueline Bannister-Pierce has been arrested for murder.”
An anchorwoman sitting next to her male counterpart came into the shot. “I know you’ve only been living in Edina for a few months, Bill, but were you aware of the rumors surrounding Buckhorn?”
“Not at first, Sandy. But after researching the history of the estate, I was surprised to learn that there was supposedly a priceless painting hidden inside.”
“Well apparently those rumors were true. Authorities claim that an original Klimt was the motive for the murder.”
“And where is it now?” he asked her.
“Police are still searching but we’ll keep you updated.” Big smile. “And now for your local weather.”
“I have to call Nathan,” I said and rushed to my room to dress.
***
“I told Rousseau he’d be safe at the inn. Brock even went out to check on him after leaving the mansion last night.” Nathan steered toward Lake Minnetonka.
“And he was there all safe and sound?” I asked.
“Sure was. Brock said they even had a beer together. He assured Rousseau that Bostwick had arrested Hank and Jacqueline.”
“That should have made him feel better.”
“Then why did he skip town?” Nathan asked.
“Let me try something.” I dug out my cell phone and called the station. The administrative aide, Bobby Hill, answered. He had worked for me near the end of my time there.
“There’s a team out at the property right now, Mrs. Sullivan. They did a thorough search of the mansion right after the murder, but today Chief Bostwick told ’em to turn that guesthouse upside down. They’re not to come back without that painting.”
“So as far as you know, it hasn’t been found yet?”
“That’s what I’m hearin’.”
“Thanks, Bobby.”
“Sure, Chief.”
I almost hung up, then said, “Bobby, wait!”
“Yeah, Chief?”
“Did they find Rousseau’s walking stick in his room?”
“They did,” Bobby said. “The Chief had it sent to forensics.”
Hank said it was the murder weapon but that didn’t make it legally so. Bostwick was going to have to confirm that with tests.
“Okay, Bobby. I might see you later. I’ll probably come in and see the Chief.”
“Right,” he said and hung up.
I told Nathan what I knew.
“Rousseau swore up and down that Hank hid the painting out there.”
“I know, but come on, Nathan, the guy’s a con man.”
“Yeah. The way they get you is by throwing in a few lies with most of the truth.”
“How long have you been trying to call him?” I asked.
“Since six this morning. He swore that once Hank and Jackie were arrested, he’d give a statement to Bostwick.”
“He’s probably afraid we’d turn him in for his connection to the black market. That ledger would likely implicate him.”
“It probably would.”
“I’ve got to give it to Bostwick.”
“If you do, he’ll know you took it from Stacey’s apartment. The chain of evidence will be broken. It’ll be inadmissible, Kathy.”
I thought about that for a moment.
“Who’s at your office now?”
“E.T.”
“And the ledger’s in a safe place?”
“Locked up tight.”
“It’s going to implicate Stacey and Antoine, for sure. Nathan, can you have Brock go back to Stacey’s and return the book to its hiding place?”
“So that Bostwick can find it there? Good thinking. I’ll call him.”
He took out his cell phone and made a quick call, then hung up.
“Can he do it?”
“He said for you, anything.”
“He’s a big sweetie.”
“I just thought of something else, though.”
“What?”
“The restoration is still an ongoing project. Antoine hasn’t gotten paid yet. He’ll definitely want that money before he leaves town.”
“But he’s said over and over that the most important thing to him is his reputation. Don’t you think he’s afraid that Hank or Jackie will mention his involvement to the police?”
“So you do think he’s skipped out on us?” Nathan asked.
“Looks that way. But let’s check the inn, just to be sure.”
***
“Sorry, Mrs. Sullivan,” the desk clerk said. “Mr. Rousseau checked out last night.”
“Can you tell me what time that would have been?”
“Not exactly but the night guy found Mr. Rousseau’s room key on the desk when he started his shift at midnight.”
“Is there anyone who might have seen him leaving?”
“Wait a minute. I have an idea.” The clerk waved to a maid who was coming out of a room right off the lobby. “Celia!” When the maid stopped, the clerk walked over to talk with her.
Nathan and I waited until they were finished.
When they were done, the clerk returned and the maid walked back down the hall.
“She says that when she went to turn down his bed at nine last night, he wasn’t there. That’s the best we can do.”
“Did he leave anything behind?” I asked.
“No. In fact, his room was so clean that she joked we should hire him to work here.”
“Thanks so much.”
Nathan handed her one of his cards. “If you see Mr. Rousseau, you can reach us here.”
“I’ll remember that.”
As we walked back to the car, Nathan and I discussed if we should spend any more time trying to find Antoine Rousseau. My job was finished; I’d proven that Randolph Pierce was not a murderer and handed the real killer to the police to boot. I’d done everything I’d set out to do and more. Now it was up to the cops to make a case against Jackie and Hank and make it stick.
“So do you think Rousseau got away with the painting?” Nathan wondered.
“I know I shouldn’t care, but it’s driving me crazy not knowing,” I said.
“If he did,” Nathan said, “he wouldn’t worry about collecting his money from Pierce.”
I sighed. “I’d like to be done with this, but I know I’ll have to go see Bostwick later.”
“You want me to come with you?”
“No, I’ll be fine,” I assured him. “You and Dean don’t mix well.”
“And you do?”