“Wes was the one who was suspicious,” the detective said. “He thought Darby had too much personal information about Mrs. Fisher, right down to the towels in her bathroom and that all of her diamonds, including some loose ones, were kept in her condo. Detective Malloy asked for a search warrant, and it was granted. Darby was arrested at the cooking competition.”

  “You’ve got to be shi-, sorry,” he said. “This is all a terrible mistake. Darby only knew all those things about Penelope because I told him. He had nothing to do with the necklace, and I can prove it.”

  He stood from the table and went into the kitchen. He opened a cupboard above the refrigerator and pulled out a cookbook. He opened the book, took out a sheet of paper, and handed it to the detective.

  I leaned over to see what it said.

  I, Penelope A. Fisher, am handing over to the possession of Jack D. Tapley for safekeeping, my diamond necklace, The Queen, valued at $487,000.00. Attached is a picture of said necklace.

  It was signed by both Jack and Mrs. Fisher, and it was notarized. There was no picture.

  “That’s a copy.” Jack said. “The original with the picture is in my safe deposit box at the bank.”

  “Well, why in the world didn’t you put the necklace in the box, too?” the detective asked.

  “No way,” he said. “Penelope would never allow her diamonds out of the building. Altogether, those diamonds totaled in the millions of dollars, and they were all in her condo. When the loose diamonds were stolen, she became nervous about the necklace asked me to hold it for a few weeks. I put it under a couple of sweaters in a dresser drawer in the spare bedroom. I thought it best not to mention it to Darby, so he wouldn’t worry about having something so valuable in here.”

  “How is it that your fingerprints weren’t on the box?” the detective asked. “They only found Darby’s and Mrs. Fisher’s.”

  “I was on my way out one Saturday afternoon when Penelope caught me in the hall and asked me to wait,” he said. “She had someone coming from the bank to notarize our signatures on the paper she had written. When we were done, I slipped my coat and gloves on before taking the box and putting it in my dresser. I left the building, went to the bank, and over to a friend’s for the day.

  “Jack,” I addressed him and paused for a moment before saying, “When Darby and I first arrived, we were nearly run down in the hallway by a man wearing a gorilla head. I think he was the murderer. I’m sure I saw the gorilla head pop out of Mrs. Fisher’s doorway on Sunday, too. Do you have any idea who that might have been?”

  “Not a clue,” he said.

  We were all quiet until Jack stood from his chair. “Let’s figure out the bathroom schedule,” he said, “and then, Chuck, how about if you and me head on down to the bank to get the notarized paper and pay Detective Malloy a visit? Maybe we can get my nephew back today.”

  My heart jumped at the thought of Darby being released from jail today. Could it really be that easy?

  “Chuck, you go first,” I said. “I’ll shower last since I’m not going to go with you guys.”

  The detective stood from the table, and headed up to the bedroom for his clothes.

  Jack was smiling at me again. Emma was right, his smile was dazzling, and I could see why he was melting her into blubbering puddles of lovesick goo at the reception desk downstairs.

  “Jack, why didn’t you take any of Darby’s calls?” I asked. “He found the necklace before the police searched here, and it shook him up. I know he left a few desperate messages for you. The police tried to reach you and so did Detective Bentley.”

  He hung his head. For a moment, I sensed some anguish from him. “I was in Tokyo at a banker’s conference. It was fun. A lot of fun.” A smile crossed his face as he paused for a moment. “And by the time I realized a geisha had made off with my phone, it was too late to do anything about it other than cancel it. I didn’t have any reason to be in contact with anyone, so I didn’t replace it while I was there. I figured if there was an emergency, my office would find a way to track me down.”

  It had never occurred to me to suggest calling his office, and it obviously hadn’t to anyone else either. On the other hand, since Jack wasn’t directly involved in the murder, there wasn’t any reason to call his office. The police knew he would be back this week, so I suppose it was a waiting game for them.

  I smiled at him and said, “Darby won $10,000 with his Grandmother’s Buttercream Coffee Cake.”

  “You’ve got to be shittin’ me!” Jack yelped. “His grandmother is my mother, and that was her recipe. She made it every year at Christmas.”

  The huge grin, and the pride on his face, warmed my heart.

  “It was amazing hearing his name announced as the winner,” I said. “He was really happy, too. At least the police officers waited until he claimed his prize before taking him out in handcuffs.”

  The image of Darby in the tan pajamas and handcuffs came to the forefront again. So did the tears.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jack and Detective Bentley had already left the condo when I stepped out of the bathroom. I felt better, and my spirits were lifted. I dressed comfortably for the day in black leggings, a long black cashmere cardigan, and low-heeled black ankle boots. I made the beds, straightened up the condo, and then packed my suitcase. Whether Darby was released and we all headed for home tonight, or whether he stayed in jail, I wasn’t sleeping with Jack Tapley again. If we had to stay in Chicago, hopefully, Mick and I would be checking into The Peninsula Hotel over on the Magnificent Mile.

  The thought of seeing Darby filled me with joy, but there was a nagging doubt in the back of my mind. The necklace was the one piece of evidence they used to arrest him, but what if they felt the circumstantial evidence Wes had provided was enough to continue to hold him. It was like that on television. They could hold you until they were one hundred percent certain you weren’t the right guy, and I knew they didn’t like releasing any suspect.

  Gorilla head popped into my mind. The guy wearing the gorilla head should have been a suspect. We didn’t ask Wes about him with regard to the murder, we only asked him who he was with at the restaurant, and Wes lied when he said they were exchanging money for football tickets. If he was Martha’s brother, then Martha definitely knew more than she was saying when I spoke to her on Sunday.

  The two men wouldn’t be back for a few hours. I decided to pay Martha another visit, but first I was going to have another piece of Detective Bentley’s quiche.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  A moment before I rapped on Martha’s door, I heard a dull thud from inside her condo. Sounds of soft, muffled grunting could be heard, and then silence.

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I stood back from the door and contemplated walking away, but it only took a moment to change my mind and knock. This might be my last chance to find out what Martha knew and further clear Darby’s name.

  There was no answer. I waited another minute and gave the door a couple of hard knocks. It opened to an out-of-breath and disheveled Martha.

  “What do you want?” she blurted out.

  “Martha, I have to talk with you,” I said. “Darby will probably be cleared of Mrs. Fisher’s murder today, and I know your brother is going to be the prime suspect. Please can I talk with you for a few minutes?”

  Her eyes flew open wide, and she looked behind her toward the bedroom as if to be sure there was no one there.

  “Are you alone?” I asked.

  She nodded a yes and opened the door for me to enter. I stepped into a smaller version of the condo we were staying in, but there were no steps down into a living area. Her rooms were all on one level. The living room was in disarray. She quickly bent over to pick up newspapers and magazines and place them on an end table. A statue of the queen of diamonds, like the playing card, was on the floor. She picked it up and set it on a shelf in a bookcase. She smoothed her hair and sat down on a loveseat as she motioned for me to sit in a chair.

  “I’ve been moving furniture and doing some rearranging,” she said as an explanation for whatever was going on in here. “Why do you think my brother is a suspect?”

  “Martha, I know he was the one wearing the gorilla head,” I said. “I saw him the day of the murder, and I saw a man with the same build and clothing the next day at Ditka’s Restaurant. He was with Wes Bradley, and they were exchanging something. Do you know what they would have given each other?”

  She slumped in her seat, threw her head back, and covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “This is all my fault.”

  “You said that the other day,” I said. “If you didn’t murder Mrs. Fisher, why would any of this be your fault? Do you know who did murder her?”

  Her eyes went wide as she said emphatically, “Wes Bradley murdered Mrs. Fisher.”

  I sat speechless for a moment. My initial instinct when we first arrived was that Wes was the killer, but after finding out he was an insurance investigator, I assumed he was innocent.

  “How do you know that?” I asked her. “I thought they were friendly.”

  “Oh, Susan, I don’t know what to do. If I go to the police, Wes will either kill me or have me killed, but Mrs. Fisher didn’t deserve to die like that, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Tell me what happened,” I told her. “I have a detective friend here with me. He’s not with the Chicago Police Department, so he can’t do anything in an official capacity, but he’s a smart man, and he can tell us what to do. He can help with whatever trouble you and your brother are in.”

  “My brother has fallen on hard times,” she said. “Penelope had more money and things than she could have ever imagined to use in her lifetime. I asked her to help my brother, and she said no. She didn’t help the poor. She thought they needed to pick themselves up by their bootstraps and take care of themselves like she did all her life. Humph! She wouldn’t know a bootstrap if it hit her in the face.”

  Martha twisted in her seat and looked toward the bedroom again. Because of her nervousness, I was certain someone was in there. My guess was it was her brother.

  “I knew Wes Bradley,” she said. “He had come to the condo on several occasions for the insurance company, and Penelope liked him. Not as much as Jack Tapley, but she liked attention from men. I told my brother about Wes, and suggested he get in touch with him. I thought maybe he might have an idea how to shake some money from Penelope.”

  Her voice changed, and she seemed more agitated.

  “Those two idiots came up with a scheme to steal some of Penelope’s diamonds. They made me take some loose diamonds one day when Penelope was napping. I took them the day before she had appointments downtown with her investment banker. That way, when she discovered them missing, it would be after she had been out for several hours, and she would assume someone broke in and stole them. It was two days later when she noticed they were gone, and she called the police. Of course, the police didn’t have anything to go on, and a few days later, she filed a claim with Wes for the insurance. It was for fifty thousand dollars.”

  She stopped for a few moments. I couldn’t tell if she didn’t want to tell me the rest of it, or if she was running it through her mind.

  “Wes brought the check around last week and gave it to Penelope, but he came back two days later and told her that he heard on the street a guy running drugs out of a bar downtown had her diamonds. He said if she would give him the fifty thousand, he could get the diamonds back. She was thrilled. Her diamonds were more important to her than anything in the world, and she liked the idea she wouldn’t be out any money or her diamonds. It was a perfect insurance scam, and it worked. Wes had the cash from Penelope, and my brother had the diamonds, but then Wes killed Penelope.

  They met at the restaurant as originally planned, and they made the swap, but Wes told my brother what happened. He had been searching Penelope’s condo looking for The Queen necklace. He wanted the bigger score and the insurance money from that diamond. Penelope went out one afternoon, and Wes let himself into her condo to search for the necklace, but Penelope forgot a package she wanted to mail, and she went back. When she found Wes snooping around, she threatened to turn him in to the police and the insurance company. He panicked and hit her over the head with a statue. That’s why you saw him in the hallway when she was murdered. He asked my brother if he wanted in on the necklace if he could find it, but my brother doesn’t want to be involved with a murderer, so he said no.”

  She flinched and looked over her shoulder again. I thought I heard a muffled noise from the direction of the bedroom.

  “If I wouldn’t have taken the diamonds, none of this would have happened, and Penelope would still be alive,” she said. “My brother has already left the country, but you tell that detective friend of yours it’s Wes Bradley they should be putting in jail for the murder of Penelope Fisher.”

  She stood, walked over to the door, and opened it. “That’s all, Susan. You need to go now. I have things to do.”

  I walked to the door and stepped into the hall. I turned and said, “Thank you for telling me, Martha. I’ll see if my friend -”

  She slammed the door shut. She didn’t even let me finish my sentence. I was slightly offended, but she had given me a lot of information.

  I hurried down the hallway to the elevator. I wanted to be in the condo when Jack and Detective Bentley came back, and I wanted to call Mick to find out if he was flying to Chicago for sure.

  In the elevator, I thought about what Martha had said. Wes had access to the insurance records, and he would know about the necklace and its value. He had shown no emotion when Martha opened the door to Mrs. Fisher’s body on the floor, and that’s why I saw the gorilla head yesterday. He was still searching for the necklace. It all made perfect sense.

  But there was still something wrong. What was it? Did Wes think Jack might have the necklace in his condo? Was that who was at the door in the middle of the night when we first arrived? Was it Wes I saw at the end of the hallway and not Martha’s brother?

  The elevator doors opened, and I made my way down the hall. As before, I stopped at Mrs. Fisher’s doorway and listened. I don’t know what I thought I was going to hear. I turned the handle. It was still locked. I crossed the hall to our condo and let myself in.

  I headed for the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. I looked in what I presumed would be the kitchen junk drawer, but it was full of scissors and knives. Who needed that many pairs of scissors? I tried another drawer and found what I was looking for – a notepad and pencil. I took all three items to the living room, and settled onto the sofa. With the possibility of Mick and Darby both being here today, I knew there would be a lot of talking and sharing of stories and details about what had happened this weekend. I was afraid I would forget something if I didn’t write it down while it was fresh in my mind. I also wanted to have everything written down to give to Detective Malloy before we left the city.

  At the top of the notepad, I wrote in large letters Wes Bradley killed Penelope Fisher. I underlined and circled the sentence. Then I wrote: Confession of Martha, Mrs. Penelope Fisher’s Assistant. I started writing down bullet points for the information Martha had given me.

  The picture was crystal clear. Wes was not a nice guy. He must have pulled this insurance scam before to have handled it so easily. If Detective Malloy looked into his work history, would he find any more skeletons in Wes’s closet – literally?

  With the notes completed, I went to grab my phone to call Mick.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed and punched in the number. Images of Jack snuggling with me in the bed flashed through my mind, and I felt uncomfortable talking with Mick while I sat on the bed. I went back out to the living room. Laughter started to bubble up again just thinking about the situation, but I swallowed hard a couple of times and took a drink of water from the bottle. I didn’t want to be laughing when Mick answered the call.

  I moved to stand in front of the windows and looked out onto the view. The sun wasn’t shining, but the day was bright, and sparse snowflakes fell ever so slowly. Today felt like the holidays again for me.

  “Hello,” said a female voice. Her British accent was instantly recognizable.

  “Hi,” I said. “This is Susan. Is Mick there?”

  “I’m sorry,” the voice said. “He’s not in right now. He has gone out for the day with Carol Bennington. May I take a message?”

  Carol Bennington? Who in the world was Carol Bennington, and why was Mick out with her for the day? My stomach flopped over.

  “Is Mrs. Raines in? Or is Alex there?” I asked.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Raines have taken Master Alex to the ballet for a showing of The Nutcracker,” the voice said.

  I was obviously talking to a servant, but I was surprised at the level of information she was sharing.

  “Do you know when Mick will be back?” I asked.

  “I don’t believe he will be coming back today,” the voice said. “Ms. Bennington said she would return tomorrow.”

  My heart was racing, and I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. Mick obviously wasn’t coming to Chicago today. I had called this number before, but he had always been expecting my call, and had answered the phone. This was the first time I had spoken to someone from the household. I was stunned into silence.

  “Would you care to leave a message?” the voice asked again.

  I couldn’t bring myself to say good-bye to the woman. I snapped my phone shut, and walked over to the sofa. I sat down hard, leaned back, and closed my eyes. I was so tired of tears, but they were coming anyway. They streamed from the outer corners of my eyes and down the sides of my face. I didn’t even attempt to brush them away.

  Didn’t that woman know I was Mick’s wife? What was the point of telling me he was out with another woman? I hated her. And I hated Carol Bennington. And I hated feeling jealous. This was the worst feeling in the world. There simply had to be a reasonable explanation. Mick would never allow himself to be put in a compromising position with another woman. But, then, he would say the same thing about me, and I had just spent the night sleeping with Jack Tapley. The tears came harder, and I knew I was going to have to ride the jag out.