This Old Homicide

“I don’t trust him at all,” Jane said, scowling. “I wonder if Jesse felt the same way.”

 

 

“I can’t imagine anyone trusting him.”

 

“I know, but his story was true. At least the part where Jesse showed him the necklace. I’m not sure I believe the part where Jesse wanted to sell it to him. He might’ve just wanted it appraised.”

 

“But why go to Cuckoo?” I wondered. “He could’ve gone to a reputable jeweler.”

 

“They’ve known each other forever. He probably figured it was easier to deal with Cuckoo than some stranger.”

 

“The devil you know,” I said.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Jane’s cell phone rang. She pulled it from her purse and checked the screen. “It’s Eric.”

 

“Put it on speakerphone,” I said.

 

She touched the speaker icon so I could hear the conversation. “Hello, Chief, how are you?”

 

“I’m well, Jane. Listen, I’ve got the autopsy results on your uncle and I have a few questions for you, if you have time to talk right now.”

 

“Oh. Sure.” She glanced at me, her eyes wide. “Go ahead.”

 

“Was your uncle having trouble sleeping lately?”

 

Jane frowned. “Not that I know of. He liked to fall asleep in front of the TV, but I think he slept soundly most nights. Why do you ask?”

 

“Because the coroner ruled his death accidental.”

 

Jane and I frowned at each other.

 

“Accidental?” she said. “What does that mean?”

 

“It means that according to the coroner, your uncle died of an accidental overdose of sleeping pills.”

 

Accidental overdose?

 

That was impossible! I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote “No way!”

 

Jane nodded her emphatic agreement and said to Eric, “I’m sorry, Eric, but I don’t believe it.”

 

“I’m afraid that’s his finding,” Eric said, his tone gentle.

 

“I mean, I really don’t believe it. You saw the condition of his house. Something happened there.”

 

“I appreciate your concern,” Eric said, “and I have some of my own as well. We haven’t closed the books on this yet. My crime scene team is still investigating a few angles and I promise we won’t stop until we’ve got conclusive evidence either way.”

 

“Thank you, Eric.” Jane swallowed hard. “Jesse wasn’t absentminded. He hated taking pills and he never would’ve taken too many.”

 

The chief thanked her for the information. Jane ended the call and looked at me. “I couldn’t tell him about the necklace. I’m just not ready to talk about it. Not until we figure out our next move.”

 

“I agree.” I might regret it later, but for now I was willing to go along with Jane’s wishes. “We’ve got to tell him soon, though. Otherwise he’ll close the case without knowing that someone had a really excellent motive for murder. And we won’t even mention what’ll happen if he finds out about the necklace on his own. We’ll be dead as doornails.”

 

“We won’t let that happen.” Jane opened the tin box and removed the tissue paper to wrap the necklace. “What’s this?” She pulled out a folded piece of lined paper.

 

I frowned. “I didn’t see that in there.”

 

“It was under all the tissue paper.” She opened the sheet, flattened it on the table, and gazed at me. “It’s a letter to me.”

 

I felt my mouth drop open. “From?”

 

“Uncle Jesse.”

 

 

*

 

In the letter, Jesse retold how he’d found the piece of jewelry while diving with his friends a few years before. He found it in one of the passenger staterooms where a wall had begun to disintegrate. The necklace must have slipped behind the wall, probably while the boat sank in the storm. Jesse grabbed it and hid it in his fanny pack so his friends never saw it.

 

He wrote “I hope it’ll ease your mind to know that I hired a lawyer to research the salvage laws. He believes the necklace belongs to me, fair and square. Finders keepers, you might say, but you never know when the laws will change. If you’re reading this letter, Janey girl, it means I’m gone and the necklace belongs to you now. Rule Number One, don’t show it to anyone. There are too many conniving people out there in the world. Rule Number Two, call Demetrius for more instructions. He’s a good guy—for a lawyer.”

 

In the letter, Jesse explained away the three missing gems. He needed cash a few months ago, so he pried them loose and took them to a jeweler in San Francisco.

 

“Does he say why he needed the cash?”

 

Jane frowned. “No.”

 

Jesse also explained that he had originally shown the necklace to several antique shops in the area, but grew suspicious and obsessive when they showed too much interest.

 

“How did he know we would ever find the box?” I wondered.

 

“He says he left instructions with this lawyer.” Jane checked it again. “Demetrius.”

 

“I don’t know a Demetrius, do you?”

 

“No, but I guess I can Google lawyers with that name.”

 

“What if I’d never found the box in his basement?”

 

“Demetrius, whoever he is, would’ve contacted me eventually.”