Grace Among Thieves Part 15

"Uh-huh, right. Tell that to the sellers you negotiate with on a regular basis." I returned his contagious grin then sobered. "I need to bring you up to date on the police investigation."

I told Bennett everything I'd learned. He asked about Mark's move to our hotel, Rodriguez and Flynn's updates, and had pointed questions about our security. "I hired Terrence because of his track record," he said with more than a trace of frustration. "Marshfield Manor has always been a refuge, a bucolic location where visitors come to enjoy beauty and peace. Yet we've had three murders since he's been here."

"The same could be said about me."

"You're not in charge of security."

"True, but I am in charge of the manor, which means I share responsibility."

He sat back, steepling his fingers under his chin. "Why so protective?"

"Is that what it sounds like?" I wrinkled my nose, thinking about it. "I suppose it's because Terrence and I started at the same time. We're both the new kids on the block and we've both had to work under difficult circ.u.mstances because of the murders."

"Don't forget the recent thefts, too."

I hadn't forgotten. "Chances are, these murders and the thefts would have happened whether Terrence and I were here or not. So far I can't blame either of us for actually causing any of them."

"Go on."

"It seems to me that if you aren't going to blame me, you can't blame Terrence either. But if you are blaming him, then I have to share in that as well."

A skeptical frown. "I doubt that sort of logic would hold up in a court of law."

"Does it need to?"

"Tell me what to do, Gracie. If hiring a top-of-the-line security expert isn't keeping our guests safe, then what's left? All the money in the world isn't going to stop bad things from happening, but I don't want them happening here. Do I close the mansion to tourists for good?"

"No," I said immediately. Although I understood where he was coming from, the idea of closing the mansion was too severe to consider. Doing so would effectively kill Emberstowne, which relied on tourism to survive. "Marshfield just has had a rash of bad luck."

"Bad luck," he repeated. "Making a success of yourself in life means creating your own luck. I'm not about to sit back and let the fates wreak havoc on my home and my life. That said, let's table the idea for now with the understanding that if we can't get a better handle on the situation soon we will have to consider more drastic measures."

"Understood," I said.

"Speaking of luck, let me satisfy your curiosity."

I followed as he got up and crossed the room, coming to stop at the small cherry wood chest I'd noticed earlier. It sat waist-high atop a gilt-metal stand in the room's far corner. "You got this at the auction yesterday?"

"No. Yesterday's event was a bust. I won this treasure at an auction two months ago. It only arrived at my solicitor's office last week. I couldn't wait to bring it home."

"What is it?" I asked.

He didn't say a word but merely placed both hands atop the shiny cherry wood. The chest was about the size of a small carry-on suitcase, with three roses carved into its lid. "It's lovely," I said.

"You haven't seen anything yet." He opened the lid, revealing a diamond tiara, which sparkled in the light.

"Oh my," I said, stepping closer. "You didn't tell me you'd been to London and stolen the crown jewels. This is stunning."

"It is, isn't it," he said with undisguised glee. "That diamond," he pointed to the tiara's central stone, "is eight carats by itself. The sapphires making the V-shape around it total another twenty-five. The smaller diamonds in the curlicues are a half-carat each."

I had no words. "Breathtaking," I said. "I've never seen its equal. What is its provenance?"

He smiled. "Don't worry. It's perfectly legal."

"I had no doubt."

"This little beauty was created for a gentleman in Greece for his new wife, not all that long ago. An artist was hired for the job back in the early 1900s. He was given an unlimited budget and the command to please the Grecian's wife. She directed every step of the design process and was said to have been overjoyed when the tiara was finished."

"There's more, I'll bet."

He smiled and continued. "She wore it exactly once, at a ball the couple threw to show it off." He lowered his voice in an aside. "Back then, famous people threw lavish parties. These days, famous people do outrageous things on reality TV. But I digress . . ." He took a deep breath. "That night, the wife went to bed, taking the tiara with her."

"Something bad's coming, isn't it?"

"The artist had become so enamored of the tiara that he broke into her room and professed his undying love, begging her to run away with him-with the tiara, of course. She ordered him away, and when she attempted to call for help, he killed her."

"Wait a minute," I said. "If she's dead, how do we know about him professing his undying love?"

Bennett grinned. "Too smart for me, are you? They caught the artist as he was about to climb over the estate's outer wall with the tiara tied into his shirt. He broke down and confessed. Speculation was that he didn't care a whit about the woman. She was rather vile, controlling, and-if the rumors are true-homely as sin. Because of that, and the artist's professions of love, rumors started. Word got out that the tiara had the power to cast spells, making the woman who wore it obsessively desirable-no matter her looks or personality. The artist jumped on this as a defense. He claimed he had acted in madness. Astonishingly, his pa.s.sion was considered temporary mental illness and he was acquitted."

"That's terrible. The poor woman."

Bennett made a wry face. "I agree. It was further speculated that the jury, made up of townspeople who despised the woman, was inclined toward leniency. In any case, the tiara was returned to the husband, who believed in its powers so fully that he secreted it away where no one would ever find it. And no one did until after his death. He died a pauper and his estate was sold for back taxes. Another collector snapped the tiara up."

"Recently?"

"Mid nineteen forties. Right after the war. The man who bought it planned to bestow it upon his wife for their anniversary."

"Another tragic ending?"

"Not right away. She was killed by an intruder a few years later. But the tiara wasn't lost. The husband held on to it for decades. He never remarried and it was said he went mad at the end of his life."

"So this is cursed. Death and madness to all who own it."

"Considering the husband was over a hundred years old when he died last year, I don't think his dementia could be attributed to the tiara. I decided to take my chances." His expression dreamy, his voice lowered. "Indeed, I had to have it. It's as though I needed to possess it because it already possessed me. I was oddly compelled . . ." He turned to me, his eyes crinkling with mirth. "Just kidding. Did I get you?"

I tapped his arm, playfully. "Not for a second. But I am concerned that something this valuable isn't more secure."

"It's safe." He must have read skepticism on my face because he changed the subject. We crossed the room to resume our seats by the window. "Any news on the missing items?" he asked.

"We think the killer was in the process of stealing the oliphant when he encountered Lenore. He was spotted carrying an item that might have been the golden horn. Detectives Rodriguez and Flynn are tracking down a lead. They're looking for the ident.i.ty of a man seen carrying a briefcase when he left the property yesterday."

Bennett's eyebrows rose.

"I take it he wasn't here for an appointment with you, then?" I asked. "Rodriguez asked me to check."

"I would have told you. Did no one stop him?"

I gave him the rundown of how the man's briefcase appeared to contain only papers. "And you have no idea what he was doing here?" I asked.

Bennett worked his mouth. "No," he said finally. "That doesn't mean he wasn't here to see someone else."

"Hillary?" I asked.

"Have you talked with her?"

I shook my head. "She came in here to take me to task for halting the DVD filming. At the time I hadn't yet heard about the man with the briefcase so I didn't know to ask."

"That girl will be the death of me."

"Don't say that," I snapped. "Bite your tongue."

He chuckled. "Did your mother used to say that?"

She had. "Why?"

"Because my father adopted that expression a long time ago." He got a faraway look in his eyes. "So many similarities, Gracie. Are you sure you don't want to find out for sure?"

He hadn't broached the subject of DNA testing since we'd first discovered our possible blood relation. "I've told you about my sister," I began. "If you and I are related, that means you're related to Liza as well. You don't want that on record. She'd be here faster than a shot to see how much she could weasel out of you."

"Worse than Hillary?"

I thought about my estranged sister. How she'd taken off with my fiance about a year before. They were married now, heaven help them both, and although she hadn't come running back for a handout lately, that didn't mean she wouldn't be darkening my doorstep soon. "She's worse," I finally said. "Hillary wants your money, yes . . ."

He laughed. "I love a girl who speaks her mind."

"But Hillary also wants family. She has no one besides you."

"Besides us."

"I shudder to think what would happen if she knew there was that possibility . . ." I let the thought hang, then returned to the original subject, leaning forward in my chair. "Besides, the test can't prove beyond a doubt that we are related. It can only prove the likelihood. What if the results show that we can't possibly be related?" I asked.

He reached forward to grab my arm. "That's the thing," he said, "they won't."

"If you're so certain of the results, then why bother to do it at all?"

"So that no one-not even Hillary-can ever contest my will."

I froze. "What? No, Bennett. No. You can't include me. Not even a little bit. That wouldn't be right."

He pointed at me. "Your reaction tells me I'm making the right decision."

I resorted to my "serious" voice. "Bennett, you can't."

"Of course, I can. But I understand your concerns. How about this . . ."

I watched him warily. His eyes twinkled, which meant he was up to something.

"You don't tell me what to do with my will, and I'll stick around so you won't have to worry about what's in it. Deal?"

"Bennett . . ."

"That is as good as you are going to get for the moment."

I took a deep breath. "You can be exasperating."

"One of my charms," he said. "Deal?"

"Deal."

As I relaxed again, he added, "Think about the blood test. Make an old man happy." When I opened my mouth to reply, he cut me off. "That's the last I'll say of the matter."

"Okay."

He grinned. "For now."

I shot him a warning look that didn't have the impact I'd hoped for. "Changing the subject," he began again, "I'd like to meet the young man who was shot. Do you think you could coordinate that? I'd like to convey my sincere apologies."

"I'm sure that can be arranged."

"Good." He stood up. "Let me know when and I'll make myself available. You know I have so many social conflicts to work around." He rolled his eyes.

"You keep busier than half the people I know. I'll bet you're on your way to some fabulous event right now."

He gave a short laugh. "Not so fabulous. A boring meeting with my lawyer." He waved his hand as though shooing a fly. "Routine stuff."

We parted ways at the Sword Room door. I didn't want to think about death and inheritance. I also knew that Hillary had been trying in vain to get him to leave the entire estate to her instead of to Emberstowne. She promised on her solemn honor to keep her stepfather's vision alive. The only person I think she'd actually fooled into believing that she'd follow through was herself.

I wasn't afraid that Bennett would change the trust, but I knew he had personal effects numbering in the thousands. Maybe he intended to leave me something personal. I shook my head. The idea of a world without Bennett was not one I wanted to contemplate.

While I would be honored to be included, the truth was that we'd only gotten to know one another over the past year. Any overt generosity on his part toward me-without any explanation as to why he thought me worthy of inclusion-could render his entire will suspect. Hillary could weasel in by the tips of her fingers and create doubt, perhaps significant enough to land her a larger share of whatever Bennett intended to leave. That would be the exact opposite of Bennett's wishes and I couldn't allow that to happen.

If he insisted on including me, Hillary's reaction posed a real risk. If I consented to a blood test and it proved Bennett and I were probable blood relatives, what then?

Chapter 14.

RONNY TOONEY MET ME OUTSIDE MY BACK door the next morning. I'd called him and requested we meet, so encountering him this time wasn't a shock. "How's Bootsie?" he asked when I closed the door and made sure it locked securely.

"She's doing very well," I said. "If we had more time, I'd invite you in to see her."

Tooney's face registered pleasure. "Things sure have changed from when we first met," he said. "Are you getting tired of constantly ordering me away?"