“Her jewelry. Why?” She turned her head to the side and assessed me out of the corner of her eyes.
“Amy Bradshaw came here on Sunday morning. She was wearing a giant diamond ring and, when I commented on it, she led me to believe she and Blitz were engaged. I ran into her tonight and she wasn’t wearing it anymore. When I asked her about it, she said it was Blitz’s mother’s ring. She never told me why she had it in the first place. I don’t know what happened to it now but it seemed odd, that Amy would even have a piece of jewelry that belonged to Blitz’s family.”
“Describe this ring,” she said.
“It was a big, pear-shaped diamond. I’ve never seen a ring that big before.”
“This all happened on Sunday morning when she came in here and tried to sell you her costume?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, chewing my lower lip the way I did when something bothered me. “And she let something else slip. Not Sunday, but tonight. She said she caught Blitz and Gina Cassavogli—the owner of Candy Girls, who is married, by the way—in the back of Ebony’s Cadillac at the party. Amy and Blitz had been dating for over two years. I can’t figure out why she’d act like they were still a couple—not just a couple, but pretend that they were engaged—when she came here on Sunday, unless she was trying to cover something up, you know?”
Detective Nichols stared at me. Her fingertips were in the pockets of her yoga pants, with her thumbs hooked on the outside. “The timing on the ring doesn’t make sense,” she said finally. “The robbery was on Monday.”
“What if someone who had every right to be in that house has been stealing from them all along? If Amy was dating Blitz, nobody would have questioned her being there. She could have stolen the ring. She could have stolen a lot of things. But now that Blitz is out of the picture, there’s no reason for her to be there anymore. What if she staged it to look like someone came in and robbed the place on Monday so she’d be off the hook for the missing jewelry?”
“Seems far-fetched.”
“Do you have any other theories?”
“With all due respect, it’s not in my job description to discuss ‘theories’ with the locals.”
“With all due respect, I think this information gives you a reason to follow up with Amy Bradshaw and talk to her about her relationship with Blitz.”
“I’m curious. What took you out to the Cannon house the day of the robbery? Seems like you were there just in the nick of time.”
“I went to see Grady,” I said.
“Any particular reason?”
“I wanted to know who wore which costume at the party. I already told you about the trench coat that the crime scene cleanup team found in the kitchen. Did you check into that yet? Or is there a reason you’re ignoring the information I’ve been giving you?”
Detective Nichols cocked her head to the side for a second and then righted it. “Okay, I’ll check this out. Thank you for the tip.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for bringing my scooter.”
“You’re welcome.”
After she left, I went upstairs and stared again at the collection of items I’d amassed on the kitchen table. The empty hair spray can that I’d found in Ebony’s Cadillac. The scrap of plaid fabric. And the $20,000. Was I withholding evidence? Technically, I thought no. The hair spray and the fabric were in Ebony’s car, which had been parked out front of the store. That crime of vandalism hadn’t been reported. And the money . . . well, I still needed to ask Ebony about that.
*
THE next morning I dressed in a black T-shirt with a ruffled shirt, bow tie, and tux lapels printed on the front and wide-legged black trousers. I fed Soot and called the hospital.
“Margo! Good news. They ran out of green Jell-O so they’re letting me leave.”
“Today?” I asked.
“Tomorrow. I’m pretty sure Don had something to do with it. When he’s not with me, he’s out there playing poker with the hospital staff. They’re probably tired of him taking their paychecks.”
My dad and Don had bonded over three things: card games, the blues, and conspiracy theories. I wanted to call up the nurses’ station and tell them they were lucky Don was in a poker phase. Otherwise they’d be listening to his argument about how we never actually landed on the moon.
“When will you be here?”
“As soon as they let me go, we’re leaving. I don’t like being cooped up in this bed all day. I want to get home and take a look at those costumes I bought. Did you unpack them yet?”
“No. I’m in the middle of reorganizing the stockroom. Once that’s done, we can tackle the aliens together.”
“As long as they’re not armed,” he said and then laughed at his own joke.