Over the next few hours, I visited three more pawnshops and spoke to several antique shop owners outside Lighthouse Cove proper but still within the fifteen-mile circumference I’d set up for myself. It was just a hunch, but if Cuckoo had overreacted to the necklace the way I thought he probably had, Jesse might’ve regretted showing him the piece or even talking about it around town. So maybe he had quietly visited some reputable shops a longer distance away from Lighthouse Cove.
Pretty early on, Jesse had claimed the story of the necklace was a fabrication, so he might’ve decided to go farther afield to sell it in a different town where he wasn’t known. That way, he would avoid the inevitable gossip that would snowball around Lighthouse Cove once people found out that the priceless necklace was a reality. I was frankly surprised that Cuckoo hadn’t spread the news, but he’d probably wanted to keep it under his hat in hopes of buying the piece before anyone else heard about it or saw it.
I stopped at the first shop I found on the other side of the interstate and struck out. Maybe it was too close to town, or maybe I was on a wild-goose chase.
I decided to keep going, to a pawnshop I’d read about six miles down the coast. I was pretty sure this was the place Cuckoo had referred to earlier. The shopkeeper, an older man who looked as reputable as any pawnbroker I’d ever seen—meaning he looked completely disreputable—looked at the photo of the necklace I’d snapped with my phone and told me he had indeed seen it and had been willing to take it, but only on consignment.
Jesse had refused the stingy offer and claimed the guy was trying to get something for nothing. Which, privately, I agreed with. I smiled and thanked him and couldn’t get out of there fast enough. While he didn’t shriek and hoot like Cuckoo, the pawnbroker came across as quietly menacing, as though he would willingly hock his firstborn son if he could get a decent trade out of the deal.
At another shop called the Chic Antique near Point Arena, a woman remembered seeing the necklace in the photo I showed her and told me she would love to have bought it. But she turned it down, telling Jesse she couldn’t afford the insurance it would cost her to keep it in her shop.
I was on a roll, so I drove a few miles inland to Greitsburg, another tiny, picturesque town along Highway 128. I stopped at Christa’s Cache and talked to Christa herself, who remembered the necklace and also recalled that Jesse had accused her of trying to cheat him.
“The guy was a little paranoid,” Christa said apologetically. “Not that I could blame him. The necklace was a really beautiful antique and worth so much more than he was willing to sell it for. I recommended that he take it into San Francisco, where he could get a heck of a lot more money for it than he could up here.”
“Do you remember how long ago that was?” I asked.
“Oh gosh.” She stared at the ceiling, trying to think. “Had to have been at least two years ago.”
Why had Jesse been so willing to sell the necklace so cheaply? Why wouldn’t he have made the trip into the city to see what price he could get from a bigger buyer?
Christa was so helpful that I took a few minutes to browse around her shop and found an unusual quilted tea cozy for only seven dollars that I knew Emily would love.
Since I was down the coast anyway—and since I was basically nosy—I drove a few more miles west until I reached the town of Blue Point where Althea lived. I was curious to see the clothing shop she’d told us about. Oh, hell, I wanted to find out if there even was a shop. Was she telling the truth or had she made up the whole story?
I found the bookstore I’d visited before, the one I’d mentioned to Althea, and sure enough, three doors down was Althea’s Attic, a vintage clothing shop. I felt a little embarrassed to think I’d questioned the woman’s honesty. I mean, any of us could’ve driven down to see the shop for ourselves. But if Jesse’s death had taught me anything, it was to verify everything before assuming or jumping to conclusions.
So now what? I parked the truck directly across the street, just as Althea walked out of the shop. Without thinking I ducked to hide my face—good grief!—so she wouldn’t see me as she strolled down the sidewalk. It was lunchtime, so I assumed she would be gone a good ten or fifteen minutes at least.
I felt a little silly for avoiding her, but I hadn’t prepared myself to face her today. I jumped out of the truck and jogged across the street to the shop. A younger woman was standing at the counter as I walked inside. It was the kind of place that made guys shudder. In other words, completely feminine and wonderful. Soft music played in the background, and the air smelled like flowers. The antique dress forms that displayed some of the clothes were topped with fascinator-type hats that I wished I could get away with wearing. So much prettier than a hard hat, even a pink one.
“Hello. Can I help you find anything?” she said.
“I’m just looking right now. Is this Althea Tannis’s shop?”
“Yes. Do you know her? She just stepped out for half an hour or so, but she’ll be back soon enough if you’d like to wait for her.”
“That’s okay. I just met her recently and we talked about the shop and it sounded so intriguing. I was in the area and thought I would stop by.”