Читать книгу A Priceless Find - Kate James - Страница 11

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS NEARING six thirty that evening when Chelsea, balancing her dry cleaning, a large pizza box and a bag of groceries, let herself into her second-floor apartment. As she nudged the door closed with her foot, Mindy, her oversize gray-and-white cat, emerged from the bedroom. Mindy made her annoyance at Chelsea’s late arrival abundantly clear with a haughty lift of her head and a testy meow.

“I’m sorry I’m late. How about salmon for dinner to make up for it?” Chelsea asked to appease the cat.

Mindy responded with a mournful grumble as she sauntered toward the kitchen.

Chelsea tossed her keys on the hall table, hung her dry cleaning in the coat closet and slipped off her shoes. Following the sound of Mindy’s meowing, Chelsea headed for the kitchen. She put the pizza box on the counter, opened a can of Mindy’s favorite food and scooped the contents into the cat’s dish. Then she hurriedly put away the groceries she’d picked up.

With the late start to her workday because of the time she’d spent at All That Glitters and Shines, and subsequently everyone wanting to talk about the robbery, she’d left the gallery quite late. Luckily, considering all the excitement, she’d remembered Paige was coming over for dinner.

Paige and her adorable son, Jason, had been her downstairs neighbors from the time Chelsea moved in until Paige had married Daniel Kinsley. Paige was also Chelsea’s closest friend. The house Paige and Daniel had bought wasn’t far, but Chelsea still missed seeing Paige nearly every day, as she had for almost three years. And it wasn’t just Paige. She missed Jason, too. He was ten and a half now, and how wonderful that he’d been free of cancer for almost three years.

This was one of the rare nights that Paige wasn’t with her family, since Daniel and Jason had a father-and-son event at Jason’s school, and Daniel’s parents had insisted on watching baby Emily for the evening. Chelsea had planned to cook dinner, but she’d run out of time. Thankfully, Paige was undemanding and understanding...and it was probably for the best. Cooking wasn’t one of Chelsea’s strengths, which was why she liked to practice on Paige when she had the opportunity.

She selected a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from her little wine rack and uncorked it to let it breathe.

Checking her watch, Chelsea realized she had exactly seventeen minutes to get changed before Paige was due to arrive.

She was in and out of the shower in less than five minutes, and quickly dressed in her usual leisure wear of black leggings and a chunky sweater. She rubbed her wet hair with a towel before working a small blob of mousse into it to get her preferred style.

Chelsea heard the knock on the door just as she was rinsing her hands. She took a quick look in the mirror before rushing out of her bedroom.

“Paige, it’s so good to see you,” Chelsea said as she gave her friend a warm hug. Taking a step back she ran an approving eye over Paige, her tall slender frame, the long glossy blond hair and clear blue eyes. “How is it possible that every time I see you, you look better than before? Isn’t a baby supposed to wear you out?”

Paige waved the compliment away. “Emily’s been a dream.”

“No, I’m serious,” Chelsea said. “Marriage and motherhood agree with you.”

“I’m very fortunate to have found Daniel,” Paige admitted. “And Jason and Emily are my world.”

“You’re lucky to have found each other,” Chelsea corrected Paige, and accepted the bottle of wine she held out. “Thanks for this. Very nice,” she added, reading the label. “I already have a Cab Sauv breathing in the kitchen. Would you prefer I opened this?”

“Oh, the Cab’s fine.” Paige hung up her coat and bent down to stroke Mindy. She sniffed the air as she rose again. “Smells good. What are we having?”

Chelsea laughed. “Well, about that... I was planning on veal parmigiana, but you know what they say about best-laid plans.” She led Paige into the kitchen and filled two glasses with wine.

“Any excuse to get out of cooking, huh?” Paige teased, then took a closer look at her friend. “Hard day?” she asked with concern.

Chelsea handed one of the glasses to Paige and took a sip from her own as they sat down at the kitchen table. “Oh, hard isn’t the right word. More...unexpected. You know the nice older couple who own All That Glitters and Shines, the jewelry store next to the gallery?”

Paige tasted her wine and nodded.

“Their store was robbed early this morning. Mr. Rochester, the owner, was there at the time and he was attacked.”

“Oh, no! Is he okay?”

“The paramedics said he should be. He got a deep gash in his head, and they took him to the hospital to check for concussion. He looked so pale and weak.” She closed her eyes for a moment, her worry resurfacing. “I’m glad Adam, his nephew, showed up in time to go to the hospital with him. Otherwise, I would’ve gone.”

“You were there when it happened?” Paige asked with alarm.

“No. It happened very early in the morning. The police and paramedics were already there when I...barged in.”

“Barged in?” Paige probed.

“Yeah.” Chelsea grinned. “That’s exactly what I did. The detective in charge wasn’t very happy about it, especially when I first got there.”

At the ding of the oven timer, Chelsea hopped up. “I’ll tell you more—especially about the good-looking detective—but our dinner should be warm by now. And I didn’t answer your question about what we’re having. Since I was running behind all day, pizza was the quickest option for me. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I’m just happy we have a chance to spend time together.”

Chelsea slid a couple of slices on each of the plates and took them to the table.

“I have to say, it’s worrying to have something like this happen in Camden Falls,” Paige said. She took a bite of pizza before continuing. “One of the reasons I originally moved here with Jason was because it was such a safe, friendly place. That was also why Daniel and I decided to stay here after we got married.”

Chelsea and some of her colleagues had expressed similar sentiments during the day. “The police seem to be taking it seriously, if the number of cops at the store was any indication. I’m sure it’s an isolated incident and nothing to worry about,” she said, trying to mollify Paige. “I got the sense that the detective leading the investigation knew what he was doing and will get to the bottom of it soon.” She thought back to all the damage in the store. “I wouldn’t discount the possibility that it was kids causing trouble.”

“I’m not sure that makes me feel any better,” Paige responded. “Is that what the police believe?”

Chelsea shook her head. “I have no idea what they’re thinking. The detective in charge—Eldridge, Sam Eldridge—was tight-lipped about it.” Remembering how frustrated he’d been with her when she’d first shown up, but how he was more...tolerant, maybe even amused, by the time she’d left, Chelsea grinned.

“What’s so funny?” Paige asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

“Not funny, really. The detective in charge has got to be one of the most intense, serious people I’ve ever met.”

“Sounds like a recipe for a personality clash with you,” Paige said, returning Chelsea’s smile.

“You’d think so...”

Paige studied Chelsea with interest. “You like him?”

Chelsea swirled the wine in her glass as she considered Paige’s question. When Mindy strolled over, she reached down to stroke her. “I suppose I do. I can’t put my finger on why, though. He’s not the sort of guy I’d usually be attracted to. He seemed so somber and...brooding.” She glanced at Paige, with unconcealed amusement. “It would be an interesting challenge to see if I could get him to lighten up! As for his looks...” Her smile spread. “He’s the best-looking cop—heck, the best-looking guy—I’ve seen in a while.”

“You haven’t been interested in anyone since you and Joel stopped dating,” Paige observed. “I was hoping the two of you might get back together, especially since you see each other at the gallery most days.”

Chelsea lifted a shoulder, then let it drop as she thought about the gallery owner’s grandson. “Joel’s okay, but the relationship had run its course. It was a little awkward at work at first, but fortunately his job in marketing and promotions frequently takes him away from the gallery.”

“No chance the two of you might get back together, then?”

Chelsea shook her head. She regretted how far they’d drifted apart, but she couldn’t be in a relationship without that spark, and they’d definitely lost it. She wasn’t prepared to settle for anything less.

“Aw, Chelsea, he seemed to make you happy.”

“He did, for a while. It just didn’t last. We’re better as colleagues than partners.” She took a slow sip of wine. “What you and Daniel have? It’s special. That’s what I hope to find one day.”

Paige gave Chelsea’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You’ve got a lot to offer. Joel didn’t realize how lucky he was.”

“That’s not fair,” she said in Joel’s defense. “It wasn’t his fault. It just...wasn’t meant to be. I’ll meet the guy who’s right for me one day. I’m sure of it. Yeah, Joel understands the world of art. We have that in common, even though he’s not as passionate about it as I am, but he isn’t particularly...sensitive. Nor did he want kids, which, as you know, is high on my priority list when I get married.”

“You’ve always said that as an only child, you’re keen on having a large, boisterous family. That shouldn’t have come as a shock to him.”

“He knew about that from the start. It only became an issue when the relationship began to get serious.” She stared into her glass for a moment. “I don’t know if that was the final straw,” she said pensively and gave her head another little shake. “Something changed. He...he wasn’t as attentive as he’d been at first. He seemed to become preoccupied.”

“With what?”

“I don’t know. He started canceling dates. Lost track of conversations.” Chelsea frowned. “He forgot the second anniversary of our first date. On the positive side, I’m glad it hasn’t affected my relationship with his grandmother. Being in the gallery owner’s bad books would not have been a good outcome, especially with my career aspirations.” Chelsea clinked her glass against Paige’s. “So it’s all good, and I wholeheartedly believe that I’ll meet the person I’m meant to be with. We’ll find each other when we’re intended to. In the meantime, I love my job at the gallery but I don’t want to be a sales associate forever. I want to get the curator position when Charles Hadley retires in a couple of years. He’s been the perfect mentor, and he’s been super sweet about helping me. I’ll focus on my career for now, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a great-looking guy like Detective Eldridge!”

* * *

“WHAT HAVE YOU got on the jewelry store robbery?”

Sam glanced up at Colin Mitchell, surprised his captain would be inquiring about the occurrence the day after it happened. “Why do you ask?”

Colin pulled back a chair facing Sam’s desk and folded himself into it. “I heard a couple of the techs talking about it in the lunchroom.”

Sam raised his brow. “That’s not unusual.”

“No. That isn’t. But what is unusual is that you wouldn’t predict whether they’d find any evidence.”

Sam nudged his laptop away and leaned back. “Yeah. That’s correct.”

“You want to tell me why?”

“Sure. I’d be interested in your take on this whole thing, anyway. And I’ll ask you to keep an open mind,” Sam added with a smile. “I believe whoever did it expected the place to be unoccupied. The fact that the owner was there at that time of day is outside the norm. Unexpected. Also, there was a lot of damage done. Too much. The time spent causing it could’ve been better used grabbing some pricey bits of bling. The most obvious items—engagement rings, high-end watches—were left untouched. What was taken, in comparison, is nickel-and-dime stuff. The extent of damage and low return for the effort says amateur to me, but it still doesn’t make sense. The time wasted on destruction, when it could’ve been put to smarter use, leads me to conclude that the person either panicked or flew into a rage. Carelessness and intentional vandalism doesn’t feel right. I’m leaning toward rage rather than panic.”

“I agree,” Colin said after a moment. “Panic due to finding the owner there could explain the attack, but would likely have caused the perp to flee. He risked getting caught by spending all that time destroying the place. We didn’t find any prints, nothing we could use, am I correct?”

Sam nodded. “Yes. Most of the prints we found were those of the owners and their nephew, who also works at the store.”

“But you had enough doubt not to bet on it.”

“Yeah. I can’t ignore the conflicting signals. My theory’s a stretch, so this is where I need you to keep an open mind. I know we haven’t seen this in Camden Falls—not to the best of my knowledge, anyway—but Willowbrook Avenue is where we have our concentration of high-end retailers. When I worked the beat in Boston, it wasn’t unusual for pros to prepare for a major heist by creating a disturbance nearby to test police-response times. I’ve been wondering if that might be the case in this situation.”

“As you said, it’s a stretch. I haven’t heard of that happening here, either. Besides, Camden Falls is a small town. No retail or commercial business is that far from us, and our department isn’t large. There’d be significant variability in response times, based on what else we might have on the go at any moment and how many of us would be otherwise occupied.”

“That occurred to me, too.”

“Have you considered an addict, looking for some quick drug money?”

“Yeah. The cash drawer wasn’t tampered with. If that was the case and even if the perp was flying high, he’d have gone for cash or the flashier items, in my opinion. What got me thinking about the response-time angle is the fact that it wasn’t the security company that alerted us. As we both know, when an intrusion alarm goes off, more often than not, it’s a failure in the system or a false alarm. It also means that the overall response time is longer, since it goes through the monitoring company, and they’ll attempt to contact the premises first. If they can’t reach anyone and if their standing orders specify it, they call us. That could take anywhere from five to ten extra minutes. In this case, the intrusion alarm had already been deactivated by the owner when the perp entered. The panic button, linked directly to us, was triggered.”

“That makes sense, since the owner was on the premises.”

“But Arnold Rochester doesn’t recall activating the panic button.” Sam gestured to keep Colin from interrupting. “Yeah, we could speculate that although he doesn’t have a concussion, the trauma might’ve caused short-term memory loss. But we found him some distance from the location of the panic button, and that idea just doesn’t ring true to me.”

“So, how do you plan to proceed?”

Sam shrugged. “I’ll have a closer look at some of the stores along that stretch of Willowbrook. And it wouldn’t hurt to route some extra patrols through that area for the time being.”

Colin stood up. “I can do that in the short-term, but if you’re right and we’re dealing with pros, who knows how long they might wait before acting. You’re aware of our resource constraints. We won’t be able to keep it up for more than a couple of weeks.”

“Understood.”

Sam was satisfied with how their discussion had gone. It probably worked in his favor that Colin had started his policing career in a big city, too. Without that, he might have dismissed Sam’s theory outright. But it was the only plausible one Sam could come up with, short of a random act perpetrated by a very stupid person.

He brought up a mental image of the street and the dozen or so stores. The Sinclair Gallery came to mind, along with a spirited woman with short dark hair. Chelsea Owens. He remembered her name without having to check his notes. She’d said she worked as a sales associate. He’d never set foot inside the gallery. His taste in art wasn’t eclectic. He liked his art plain and simple, and as realistic as possible. Photographs were even better. He wasn’t big on abstracts or old paintings, with their gloomy colors and depictions. He frankly found them depressing. But Sam knew some of that stuff was valued ridiculously high. He had no idea what the pieces at the Sinclair Gallery cost.

Maybe it was time to have a look and find out.

He’d read in the morning paper that there was going to be an exhibit and auction at the gallery Saturday evening. Ever since Katherine had left him and moved back to Boston, his social calendar had been meager, and he had no plans for the weekend.

The exhibit presented an ideal opportunity to check out the gallery.