The first time we met I told you I was a detective. Get it through your lovely head. I work at it, lady. I don’t play at it.
—Raymond Chandler, The Big Sleep
DEPUTY CHIEF FRANZETTI was clearly annoyed by my presence, but he didn’t stop me from following him up the stairs.
The Victorian’s rich carpeting muted our footsteps. On the third floor, circular windows on either end of the hallway allowed the late afternoon sun—now breaking through the overcast sky—to stream through. Fiona had hung intricately cut crystals in front of the glass, fracturing the light into multicolored sunbeams that danced along the walls and sent solar sparkles rippling across the uneven landscape of the embossed tin ceiling.
There were only four rooms on this floor, all of them unoccupied. Peyton Pemberton was now downstairs, and (according to Fiona) the other guests had long since checked out.
No surprise, Peyton’s guest room door was closed.
That’s a tough break, the ghost groused. Who knows what that cornpone flatfoot might have missed? If this were my case, the first thing I’d do is shake down that ditzy doll’s room myself. Check behind the pictures on the wall, rifle her pockets, even her girdle and garters.
News flash, Jack, young women don’t wear girdles and garters anymore.
Jack grunted. Guess that’s for the best. Makes things easier on the joes. Less armor to unscrew before you get—
I cut off that conversation quick. Anyway, I agree with you. I wish we could search that room, too, but Eddie will never allow it. He isn’t aware that you and I are also on the case, and it’s not like I can tell him. I paused. Of course, that doesn’t mean I can’t try for it.
With a deep breath, I walked quickly and quietly over to the Peacock Room, but as I reached for the knob—
“Wrong door, Pen,” Eddie called. “Linen closet’s over here.”
The jig’s up, baby, Jack said with a barely suppressed chuckle.
I clenched my teeth. I suppose you would have done it better?
I wouldn’t have done it right in front of him. Nice try anyway. Now go join your friend the flatfoot.
I did. As promised, the linen closet was unlocked, and the light sprang on as soon as the door opened. The walk-in space was long and narrow and the shelves were stacked with fluffy towels, perfumed soaps, and tiny bottles of shampoo.
The maid’s cart was shoved all the way back, at the far end of the narrow space. Eddie wheeled it out into the sun-sparkling hallway and pulled the plastic bin off the bottom shelf. It was full to brimming with soiled linen, which he promptly dumped on the carpeted floor. For the next five minutes Eddie went through two bedsheets, six pillowcases, two damp bath towels, a washcloth, and six hand towels. Despite the thorough search, all he found was a wrapper from the maple candy Fiona had placed on everyone’s pillow.
We quickly found out we’d been looking in the wrong place.
When Eddie refilled the bin and shoved it back into place, the whole cart shuddered. A box of rubber cleaning gloves on the top shifted position, and I spied a glint of burnished metal.
“Eddie, look . . .”
Eddie saw it, too. While I stood back and watched, he gently slid the box aside to expose a single teardrop-shaped diamond earring in a setting of glistening antique gold.
“Don’t touch it,” Eddie cautioned, “there might be fingerprints.”
Without touching anything else, Eddie gingerly wrapped the single earring in a cotton washcloth and tucked it into his jacket. Then he thoroughly searched the rest of the cart with his eyes alone. Finally, he returned to the linen closet and searched among the clean towels, bars of soap, and tiny bottles of shampoo. But after long minutes of patient hunting, he found nothing.
Moments later, he closed the linen closet door behind us.
“What are you thinking, Eddie?”
“It appears that Norma removed the jewels from Peyton Pemberton’s room and hid them on her maid’s cart. In her haste to flee the inn, she left one earring behind—probably because it got covered by the box of gloves.”
“So it appears.”
Eddie’s shoulders sank. “Let’s face it, Pen. I don’t like believing it, either, but that’s probably what happened, according to the evidence.”
“Do you really think she’s guilty?”
“It doesn’t look good, but I am withholding judgment. I’d like to hear Norma’s side of the story before I declare this grand theft and have anyone charged. Of course, if she doesn’t return to answer my questions, then . . .”
His voice trailed off, but I got his meaning.
I checked my phone, surprised that Eddie and I had been upstairs for nearly half an hour. We returned to the lobby just as Barney Finch came through the antique doors. Tall and lean, the spry seventy-year-old tucked car keys into the pocket of his flannel shirt before he shook hands with the deputy chief.
“Sorry to see you here, Officer Franzetti. Bad business, this, and bad for business, too.”
“Did you get your car back?” Eddie asked.
“Yep. Cost me six hundred dollars. Why, the oil change alone—”
“So where’s Norma?” Eddie curtly interrupted.
Barney shuffled his feet and stared at the rug. “I told her you wanted to talk to her, and when I left the garage, Norma was following right behind me in her van. We got separated at the railroad crossing by one of those long freight trains. She should be along any minute.”
Yeah, Jack cracked. She’ll be along—along the shortest route out of town.
Quiet, Jack. Norma will show up, you’ll see.
I was never so sure. And never so wrong.
Another thirty minutes went by without any sign of Norma. In that time Deputy Chief Franzetti interrupted Peyton Pemberton’s phone conversation long enough to show her the earring, which she positively identified as part of the missing set.
“Where’s the rest of my jewels?” she demanded.
“I’m working on that,” Eddie said.
Peyton ended her phone call, and after a huddled conversation with my friend, she proceeded to pitch a hissy fit worthy of our cat Bookmark, just because Eddie wouldn’t return her diamond.
“It’s my property, Officer. I insist you give it back!”
“I’m sorry, Miss Pemberton, but now that you’ve filed a police report—”
“I did that for insurance purposes,” she stated. “On the advice of my lawyer.”
“But because you filed that report I had to contact the state police, which makes this an official police investigation. Believe me, that’s the way the insurance company wants it, too. This earring is evidence. You’ll get it back after we run a few tests—”
“Tests?!” Peyton cried. “What sort of tests?”
“The state police will want to check for fingerprints.” Eddie explained. “And they’ll verify the authenticity of the diamond—for insurance purposes, of course.”
“Oh,” she said, mollified. “If that’s all you’re doing, then I guess it will be okay. That precious necklace and earring set is my only connection to my dear aunt, who’s gone now. It’s an heirloom, and I do not want it damaged.”
Soon after that confrontation, Miss Pemberton complained of an oncoming migraine and asked to return to her room.
“Sorry,” Eddie told her. “The state police will want to take a look at that room, too. Fiona will find you another place to rest. It’s just for a few hours.”
“But what about my clothes, my luggage?”
“They will need to be checked, too, I’m afraid. You’ll get it all back after the state police have done their investigation.”
“I’ll be pleased to help you, Miss Pemberton,” Barney said. “Perhaps you’ll enjoy one of the turret rooms. They have a grand view. You’ll be able to see the ocean—”
After Barney led his dissatisfied guest away, Fiona urged Eddie to make himself comfortable. He accepted a cup of Earl Grey and took a spot in the reception area, where he sat in silence, turning his head to face the door every time someone went in or out. Finally, after long minutes passed, he checked his watch, slapped his knee, and rose.
“That’s it, then,” he announced.
“What are you going to do, Eddie?” Fiona asked anxiously.
“I have no choice. I’m calling in the state police.”
“I thought you already did that,” Fiona said, surprised.
“I held off, despite what I told Miss Pemberton. I was hoping Norma would show with some kind of explanation—” Eddie shook his head. “Ah, forget it! I’m notifying the state police, so expect more visitors real soon, Fiona.”
The innkeeper looked so distraught that my heart went out to her.
“I’ll also issue alerts to departments in Providence, Newport, and across the state line in Massachusetts,” Eddie continued. “Maybe as far as Maine and Connecticut, because I’m sure Norma’s nomadic ways have taught her how to travel light and fast.”
Eddie took a breath and glanced away. “I’m sorry, but you should be aware. As soon as the state police take over, an arrest warrant will be issued.”
“Oh no. No!” Fiona looked ready to burst into tears.
I swallowed hard, trying not to be angry with Eddie.
He’s just doing his job, said the ghost.
Jack, this is awful. Norma’s gone from a person of interest to a fugitive from justice. But why? Why would she run? She can’t be guilty . . . can she?
Sorry, doll, I don’t like saying so, but—
I know, I know! You told me so.