A Fatal Fabergé Page 4

  “Yes, he did.”

  “He told me he didn’t want to stay with his father, because he’d moved his girlfriend into his mother’s house. I wouldn’t feel comfortable staying with them, either. Did he tell you his mother died in a drowning accident a couple of months ago?”

  He smiled. “Yes, Molly.”

  “I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”

  “I don’t mind. I appreciate you sharing information with me.”

  Molly wished he’d share more information with her, but she knew it was a fine line he was walking, talking to her about a murder investigation. “What did you think of Natasha?”

  “She was calm, unemotional, very matter-of-fact,” he said. “She wasn’t happy the party ended the way it did. She told me she was disappointed the gala ball was interrupted by Curtis’s untimely death, that it was most unfortunate.”

  Molly was stunned. “She said that?”

  “Yep. We found Hattie Mills, by the way. She was in the library, sitting in the dark, drinking wine out of a bottle.”

  “Sounds like she was in shock,” Molly said. “Did Maxim tell you he thinks his father was gambling and owed a lot of money to someone?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I’m aware of it.”

  “Is gambling legal in Vermont?”

  “We don’t have state-licensed or tribal casinos, but it’s legal for players to gamble on online poker sites. What’s illegal is a moneylender charging outrageously high interest rates on loans, and using blackmail or threats to get it repaid.”

  Molly sipped her tea. “Do you suspect any of the people you talked to last night?”

  “You know how it is. Everyone’s a suspect, until they’re not.” He yawned again and rubbed his eyes. “I’ve got my hands full with this one. There were a hundred and twenty-two tickets sold for last night’s event, plus Natasha hired a catering company, which adds an additional twelve people to my ever-growing list.”

  “Did you meet Peggy Shaw, the cook? She was supervising last night.” He nodded. Molly waited to see if he’d tell her anything about Peggy. When he didn’t, she went on. “I met her son, Felix, on Friday. Starling and I stopped into his shop, Monkey Paws Antiques. I saw him again last night. He was there to help his mother. Maxim told me he went to school with his parents, but when I asked him if he was friends with his father, he said no, he was friends with his mother, even though they’ve all known each other since high school.”

  “I did talk to Peggy and Felix,” he said.

  There was a long silence as he drank his coffee and Molly finished her tea. She tried one more time. “Maxim told me his mother and Felix were born two weeks apart, and they grew up together, like brother and sister.” He finished his coffee and set his cup down on the table. Molly gave up. He wasn’t going to tell her anything. She took the cup and got up to wash their dishes. She said over her shoulder, “I should tell you, Maxim asked me if I’d investigate his father’s death, if it turned out not to be an accident.”

  “I know, Molly. He told me.”

  “Oh.” She finished washing their cups and put them on the drainboard to dry. “What do you think?” She turned around to face him. “Should I? Or would you rather I stayed away from your case?”

  “I can’t stop you from doing your job as a reporter,” he said. “But after last summer, when you were almost killed, I think you should sit this one out. It could be dangerous, digging around for clues on your own.”

  “I’ll keep you apprised of what I find out.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know why you ask my permission,” he said. “You always do what you want anyway. Just be careful, okay?”

  “I’m always careful.” She knew she sounded defensive, but what was she supposed to do? Sit every case out on the off chance it could turn dangerous?

  As if he’d read her mind, he said, “You’ve gotten caught up in some dicey situations before, and I don’t want to be the one who has to tell your mother something bad has happened to you.”

  “Well, maybe if I had more information to go on, I’d have an easier time staying safe. Will you share anything with me?”

  “I’ll give you as much as I can so long as it doesn’t jeopardize my investigation.” Molly wasn’t surprised by his answer, but it made her wish she was a cop, working alongside him, privy to what he knew, able to access the police department’s specialists and data collection systems. With her limited resources, she’d have to narrow her investigation to Curtis’s family members. And friends, if he had any. “You look disappointed,” he said. “I can tell you that for the time being, publicly, we’re calling Curtis’s death suspicious, but I did inform Natasha and Maxim that I’m investigating it as a homicide.” Molly waited to see if he’d expand on this, but he wasn’t inclined. He stood up and stretched his arms over his head. She supposed she should be grateful he’d told her anything at all. “Thanks again for the coffee,” he said. “I’ve got to get to the station.”

  Chapter 5

  An hour after Lombardi had gone, Molly finished reading the entire newspaper, and her stomach growled. She checked the baby monitor on the kitchen counter. Tyler was still asleep, and she didn’t hear any rustlings from Matt or Starling. She opened the cupboard and took out the ingredients to make waffles, then got a package of sausages from the refrigerator. She mixed up the waffle batter and put six sausages in a pan. She knew as the sausages sizzled on the stovetop and the aroma drifted upstairs, signs of life would soon be heard.

  In less than five minutes, floorboards creaked above her head and water ran in the master bath. A few minutes later a door opened, and the cats bounded down the stairs into the kitchen, skidding to a stop, twirling around her ankles, meowing for their breakfast. As Molly fed them, Matt walked in holding Tyler in his arms. They were still in their pajamas, and their matching sandy blond hair was sticking straight up on their heads. Molly thought they were both adorable.

  “Did I wake you?” she asked.

  “Yes, you sneak. You knew the sausages would get me up. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t sleeping well, not after the night we had.”

  “Could’ve fooled me. You were snoring up a storm.”

  “Sorry.” He kissed her. “Thanks for making breakfast. Did you sleep well?”

  “No. Terrible.” She preheated the griddle. “I got up around six, texted Lombardi to see if he was up, and he stopped by to see me on his way to work. He was at Misty Vale a long time and didn’t get much sleep.”

  Matt put Tyler in his high chair.

  “Did he tell you anything about the case?”

  “He said the coroner believes Curtis was pushed out of a third-floor window. He’s treating the case as a homicide, although publicly it’s being called a suspicious death.”

  Matt slipped Tyler’s bib over his head. “I’m sorry to hear it, but not surprised.” He walked over to Molly and took the spatula out of her hand. “I’ll stir the sausages. You’re much better at making the waffles.”

  “Why aren’t you surprised?”

  “Given his injuries, and the trajectory of the fall, and the way his body was angled, I thought it looked suspicious.”

  Molly poured batter on the griddle and closed the lid. “So that’s why you called Lombardi. You did think it was murder. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It’s not my job to come to that conclusion.” He pushed the sausages around in the pan.

  “You know, there were more than a hundred people at the ball last night, including Curtis’s inner circle of family and friends, which means Lombardi has a lot of suspects to consider.” She paused. “I’ve decided I’m going to tell Maxim I’ll write an article about his father. I’ll start with the people closest to him.”

  Matt looked at her. “Is this your way of telling me you’re going to investigate his murder?”

  “Yes. Maxim asked me to, if it turned out not to be an accident, which it wasn’t. Lombardi’s reluctantly okay with it, as long as I’m doing my job as a report
er. I’m sure it won’t be dangerous.”

  “You forgot to add dangerous this time,” he said.

  “Matt . . .”

  “You don’t have to convince me, Molly. You know you always have my full support. All I ask is that you stay alert and be extra careful.”

  “You sound like Lombardi. He’s worried that after the last case, how I almost got killed . . .” Her voice trailed away.

  “You can’t blame us for being worried about you. If you feel like you’re getting in too deep, or you have a bad feeling about someone, back off, tell Lombardi, and let him handle it. All right?”

  “I will, I promise.”

  “Your mother won’t be pleased,” he said. “She’s been a lot more vocal about you getting involved in murder investigations since Tyler was born.”

  “She always comes around.” Molly smiled. “You all do.” Her mother liked to complain, but she also enjoyed being a sounding board on the cases she investigated, and Molly valued her opinion.

  “That’s because you’ve recruited the entire family to become armchair detectives, and we all want to try to help you crack the case.” He turned the sausages over. “Then there’s Swanson, of course, who will be thrilled. A new murder investigation and the magazine’s circulation numbers will shoot straight up.”

  Molly made a face. “That sounds terrible, when you say it that way.”

  “Murder is terrible, and so is Swanson.”

  “I’ll call him later,” she said.

  “When will you tell your mother?”

  “They’re driving back from Boston tomorrow.” Her mother and Sean had gone to Boston for a long weekend to visit friends of Sean’s. “I’ll wait for her to get back.”

  “Just think, if they hadn’t had those plans, they would have been at the gala ball with us when Curtis died. Then you wouldn’t have to tell her anything. She’d already know.”

  “They were lucky not to be there,” she said. “I wish we hadn’t seen it.”

  Matt gave the sausages another stir. “So, who are you going to talk to first?”

  “Hattie and Natasha. After breakfast, I’ll drive out to Misty Vale.”

  “Isn’t it kind of soon after Curtis’s death? Don’t you think they’ll be struggling with their emotions? Sometimes the shock has to wear off before people realize what’s happened.”

  “Sometimes the best time to talk to them is when they’re in that state where they’re trying to process what’s happened, because they’re actually trying to make sense of it, and they’re thinking out loud, sorting it out in their own minds.”

  “Wow. Okay, then. I guess you should let Maxim know you’re going to write the article and do some snooping around.” Matt turned the burner off, and using the spatula he moved the sausages to a plate Molly had covered with a paper towel to absorb the grease. “How are the waffles doing?”

  She lifted the lid to check. “Almost done.”

  They heard the door to the in-law apartment open, and a moment later Starling walked into the kitchen. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and she’d thrown on sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. She went over to Tyler and gave him a big kiss. Then she looked at Molly and Matt and smiled.

  “So, you two lovebirds, how was your evening out?” Starling and Tyler had both been asleep when they’d come home in the middle of the night. She had no idea what had happened. “Did you have fun at the ball?”

  Matt said, “Oh, you know, it was a typical night out with Molly. Another body, another murder investigation.”

  Starling’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

  “Sit down,” Molly said. “Have some waffles and sausages. I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Chapter 6

  After breakfast, Matt insisted on cleaning up the kitchen, and Starling said she’d take Tyler for a walk in his stroller. They knew Molly wanted to phone Maxim. He sounded groggy when he picked up, and she realized he must not have gotten much sleep, either.

  “I woke you up, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, but I was going to get up soon anyway. I was going to call you to let you know Detective Lombardi believes my father was murdered.”

  “I know,” she said. “I spoke to him. I told him I’m going to help you.”

  “You will?” His voice perked up. “You’ll investigate?”

  “Yes, but as a reporter, writing an article about your father. I won’t be officially working with the police. I will share information.”

  “Will Detective Lombardi share information with you?”

  “As long as it doesn’t jeopardize his case, he usually throws me a few crumbs.” Sometimes more than crumbs, Molly thought, but she didn’t want to get either of their hopes up.

  “I can’t thank you enough for doing this,” he said. “Nothing makes sense at the moment. My mind is fuzzy. But maybe it’s a lack of sleep. Is there anything I can do to help you get started?”

  “Yes, actually, there is. I’d like to talk to Hattie and Natasha, preferably this morning. If you could tell them I’m going to write a human-interest story about your father for the magazine, and you’d appreciate it if they’d talk to me, that would be a big help.”

  “Aunt Natasha didn’t get to bed until around five. I’m not sure she’ll want to talk to you today, but I’ll ask her when I see her. As for Hattie, I’ll call her right now. She’s been trying to be nice to me, so I think she’ll agree to do it as a favor.”

  “I’ll wait to hear back from you.”

  Five minutes later, Maxim sent her a text message: Hattie will see you at eleven. She lives in a cottage on the estate. Turn right at the entrance, go about a half mile, you’ll see a stone house on your left.

  • • •

  Molly had no trouble finding the cottage. It was on the other side of a crested hill, down a lane bordered by trees, a small stone house with lace curtains in the windows, a covered porch, and an ivy-covered chimney. As she stepped out of her Audi, she smelled wood burning and saw a thin ribbon of smoke rising from the chimney. The car she’d parked next to was a white Mercedes sedan with the license plate HM, which she assumed belonged to Hattie Mills.

  Hattie must have been waiting for her, because she’d barely stepped onto the porch when she opened the door. Molly knew she was fifty or so, but she looked younger, with curly blond hair expertly dyed, beautiful dark brown eyes, and a cute button nose. She wore a red silk kimono and gray leggings, and her feet were bare.

  “Come on in,” Hattie said. She stepped away from the door, and Molly walked into a narrow hall. A staircase was straight ahead, and there were coat hooks on the wall, no closet. Molly hung her coat up on a hook and joined Hattie in the adjoining living room, where a fire was starting to peter out in a stone fireplace. Hattie flopped down on a brown leather sofa and propped her bare feet up on a rustic coffee table.

  Molly liked the room’s dark wood-beamed ceilings and colorful Persian rugs on the wide-plank oak floors. Bookshelves lined most of the walls, filled with aged leather-bound books. She handed Hattie her business card, and sat on one of two blue-covered chairs on either side of the fire.

  Hattie read her card out loud. “Molly Appleby, Senior Staff Writer for Collector’s Weekly.” She looked at her under long lashes, her eyes clear, not a hint of red in them. If she had been crying, there was no sign of it. She didn’t even look tired. “Maxim told me you’re going to write an article about Curtis,” she said. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to read about him. His store was going down the tubes, and he was in debt up to his eyeballs. Heck, I don’t even want to read it, and I was in love with him.” She placed Molly’s card on the coffee table. “So what’s this really about? Why are you doing this?”

  “As a favor to Maxim,” Molly said. She wasn’t going to tell her she was investigating Curtis’s death, or that she was on her list of suspects. “I thought it might help him get through this difficult time. I know he lost his mother recently, too.”

  Hattie nodded. “Yea
h, it’s like there’s a big black cloud hanging over the Cobb family. Poor Maxim.”

  “I met Curtis briefly last night. Maxim introduced us. But I don’t know anything about him, other than he owned Rarus Books.” Not quite true, but let’s see what you have to say, she thought. “I’d like to know more about him, and your relationship. What kind of man was he, and why do you think his business was failing?”

  “Before I say anything, I need a drink.” Hattie stood up and pulled her kimono a little tighter around her waist. “How about you? I’m going to have a vodka with cranberry juice.”

  “It’s a little early for me. I’ll have a glass of water.”

  “Suit yourself.” Hattie shrugged and walked off to the kitchen, where she made her drink. She came back into the living room, handed Molly a glass of water, and repositioned herself on the sofa, this time crossing her legs, swinging a bare foot in Molly’s direction. She took a long, slurpy sip of her drink and said, “Ah, that’s good.” She leaned into the cushions. “Where should I start?”

  “How did you meet?”

  “Okay, that’s easy. The summer before freshman year of high school, his family moved into a house down the street from where I lived. I met him one day when I was out riding my bike. He was sitting on the steps of his house looking bored out of his mind. We became friends, and when school started in the fall, I introduced him around.”

  “Did you introduce him to Galina and Felix?”

  “Yes, I did.” Hattie took another sip of her drink. “I told Curtis about Galina before I introduced him to her. I warned him not to get too close to her. But as soon as they met, I knew it was a lost cause.”

  “Why did you warn him not to get close to her?”

  “Because I knew her parents would never accept him, and I didn’t want him screwing up Galina’s life. Not that I blame her for falling in love with him. Curtis was really good-looking, and he had this mysterious aura about him. He had a way of drawing you in but never quite giving you enough information about himself, so you’d always come back wanting more. All the girls had a crush on him.”