That night, as Viv tossed and turned beneath her blankets, a pang of guilt tore through her. She was here to help Aunt Libby, not make things worse. She was the wayward-gamer-techie daughter and niece, who dressed in what they all considered weird clothing and sported several tattoos. But she loved her aunt and would do anything for her. She hoped it would be business as normal soon. That night, she dreamed of Stu, pale, falling, and reaching out to her.
Viv awoke with a shudder and stared up at her pink satin canopy. She’d never liked it. But this was the only available room. The canopy always reminded her of a coffin—tonight more than ever.
Viv glanced at the clock—5:30—pulled the chain on the lamp, and picked up her book. She needed to clear her mind. She knew she had nothing to do with Stu’s death, and she would not let the police rattle her. No, they should investigate what happened—not bother her and Abby. Poor girl loved him so much it bordered on delusion. She tried to read, but questions kept pulling her thoughts away from the book. Where had Stu’s body been found? Exactly how did he die? And what had happened to Queen Victoria’s mourning jewels? How did Stu get them into the country without having proper security?
After breakfast, she dialed Abby. “Can you meet me at the shop?”
“Are you crazy? No. Let’s stay away from there until the police figure this all out.”
“Okay. You’re either with me or not. I’m going in. I left my water bottle there, so if anybody catches me, I’ll use it as an excuse.”
Abby sighed. “What do you hope to accomplish?”
“I’m not sure. But I’d like to start by studying Stu’s files about Queen Victoria’s jewels.”
“Okay,” Abby said, her voice almost a whisper. “I’ll meet you there.”
They entered through the front door as if they had every right to be there. Which we do, thought Viv. In Stu’s office they found papers and files on his desk, along with the tea set he’d used the day before. Viv opened the file cabinet, checking under “V” for Victoria. Nothing. Then she checked under “Q” for queen. Nothing.
“How would he file the jewels?”
“Maybe under J?”
“Brilliant!” Viv said, as she opened another drawer and found a pink folder with the word. “Jewelry” on it.
Documents detailing the history of several of the jewelry pieces in the shop were jammed into a manila folder. Viv sifted through it, searching for something on the jewels from Great Britain as Abby rummaged around on his desk.
“Shoot. I see nothing here about the jewels.”
“Maybe he has the paperwork at his apartment,” Abby said.
“Do you have a key?”
“No, sorry. We never went to his house. Stu always said he liked my place better.”
So much for Viv’s brief foray into sleuthing. Abby burst into another fit of sobs and Viv made her sit down. As she searched for a tissue, something caught her eye in the trash. Something black and shiny. “Oh my God, Abby, it’s the jewels! They are right here. In the trash!”
“Wait!” Abby said. “Touch nothing!”
Viv’s heart nearly stopped. Abby was right. “We should call the police.”
“What are we going to tell them? I mean, we shouldn’t even be here.”
“Abby, these jewels are priceless. I don’t think the police will care about us sneaking in here.” Viv held up her water bottle. “We’ll tell them I came for this.”
Abby scooted around in her seat. “It’s not a good idea. Let them find the jewels on their own.”
What was wrong with her? She wasn’t thinking straight. Viv dug her cell phone out of her purse. “We’re calling the police right now.”
“Looks like the robbery was interrupted, and they panicked,” said Officer Willoughby a few minutes later. “We must get a forensics team in here. We’ll need to fingerprint you both because you’ve been in here. You came for a water bottle?” He rolled his eyes.
Viv held it up. “It’s special.”
“Yeah. I can see that.” He placed his hands on his hips.
“Please be careful with the jewelry,” Viv said. “It’s Queen Victoria’s mourning set. Or one of them anyway.”
Willoughby shrugged. “I thought mourning jewelry was about hair.”
“Yes, some of it. But Queen Victoria also wore jet pieces during her many years of mourning Prince Albert,” Viv said.
“I can’t believe this is happening!” Abby sobbed. “Please find who killed my Stu!”
Willoughby shifted his weight. “We’re doing our best, ma’am. We’ve gotten leads on two outsiders milling about that night.”
“Tourists?” Viv asked.
“That’s what we’re trying to determine,” he said. “But they may be our robbers. Or murderers.”
A dapper gentleman walked into Stu’s office. “Ladies, this is John Ainsworth. He’s a jewelry and antiquities expert from the University of Virginia. We thought it was a good idea for him to examine the jewels and make certain we’re storing them correctly.”
“Cool,” Viv said. Hard to place an age on him. His thick hair was gray and distinguished, but his face appeared younger.
The man held up the jet necklace to the light. “Fake,” he said bluntly.
“What? How can that be?” Abby squealed.
Viv’s mind swirled in confusion.
“I was suspicious when we found them in the trash,” Willoughby said.
Ainsworth’s eyebrows hitched. “I’d say you have one angry thief.”
Abbey sobbed again. “Poor Stu, killed over fake jewelry!”
The room silenced. “That’s one possibility,” Ainsworth said. “But jewel thieves, as a rule, are not murderers. I gather this was more of a smash and grab, not a professional job.”
“If that were the case, how would they know it was a fake? This is a well-made replica. It makes no sense,” Willoughby said.
“Where are the papers?” Ainsworth said. “If these jewels came from a museum in London, they would have papers with them, detailing the loan.”
“We’ve not found anything like that.”
“Keep looking,” he said, glancing at Abby and Viv. “May I speak with you in private, officer?”
Willoughby nodded. “It’s time for you two to leave.”
“Oh,” Viv said, standing. “Sorry. Yes. I hope this all works out.”
“I can’t believe Stu was ripped off,” Abby said, sniffing, as they walked out of the shop. “He was brilliant.”
No he wasn’t, Viv mused. Love is blind, but was it deaf and dumb too?
“Abby, you need to get a hold of yourself. I know it’s hard losing someone. It’s hard to imagine, but things will get better with time. I promise you.”
“I loved him so much… and he loved me. Only me.”
The next morning, commotion erupted from downstairs at the B&B. Viv could hear Aunt Libby say, “Do you have to come here? Can’t you take her to the station and question her? I have a business to run.”
Duly scolded, Willoughby cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I’ll just take a few minutes.”
“Officer Willoughby,” Viv said as she walked into the room, tying her robe. “What can I help you with?”
He held out a vial. “Is this the vial you saw Stu Johnson use when he added something to his tea?”
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t sugar. We’ve gotten the tox reports back. It was a common pick-me-up from the pharmacy, except there was a little something added to it. A poison derived from morning glory.”
Viv’s breath caught in her throat. How could that be? Abby mentioned making him something. She was a pro. She didn’t make mistakes like that. “I don’t understand. He was poisoned? By a jewel thief?”