CHAPTER 10

C HAPTER 10

"You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased."

—Fitzwilliam Darcy, in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice

V anna and Noeline were chatting between themselves when Zach, Tegan, and I reentered the meeting room. Mr. Tannenbaum was consulting his cell phone.

"Well?" Vanna demanded.

"Your sister is innocent," Zach said matter-of-factly. "All of you may proceed with the business at hand. If you have any further clues as to who might have killed your aunt, don't hesitate to contact me. We appreciate all tips." He turned to leave.

"Detective, do you have suspects?" Noeline asked, her voice plaintive.

"Ma'am, we'll keep our findings to ourselves, but rest assured, we're doing all we can."

"Zach," I began, hoping to pull him aside and ask about the water bottle theory.

"Not now, Allie," he said. I must have flinched at his curtness, because he said, "Sorry, but I've got to go."

When he closed the door, Tegan and I took our seats, and Tannenbaum resumed, declaring that most of Marigold's jewelry went to Vanna and Tegan.

"Most?" Vanna asked.

"Most," Tannenbaum said with no inflection. "I'll read what Marigold wrote. ‘Noeline, if I do not outlive you, as well I shall not, I know you are well-off and do not need my money or personal items to sustain you. Therefore, in remembrance, I give you my treasured Georgian-style trembling floral brooch. You have always admired it.' "

Noeline moaned and pressed a hand to her chest.

Tannenbaum continued, "‘Wear it well and often. And know that I will love you forever.' "

Noeline sucked back a sob.

"There are a few more items to contend with," the lawyer went on. Humming, he flipped a page. "Regarding the cash on hand and in savings—"

"Mr. Tannenbaum," Vanna cut in. "I want to know what happens to the bookshop."

He cleared his throat. "Fine. We'll divert to there." He turned over a few more pages. "As you know, Noeline, your sister owned three-quarters of the bookshop, with you owning the final quarter."

"Yes."

"Your portion remains untouched, per your contract. However, as to her three-quarters ownership, half the bookshop will go to Tegan, and—"

"I told you!" Vanna cried.

Tannenbaum held up a hand. "I quote, ‘My niece Tegan is the reader in the family. She will cherish and foster the bookshop and its customers, thus giving my sister, Noeline, freedom to pursue her own dreams.' "

"I read!" Vanna said.

"Cookbooks," Tegan taunted.

Vanna jumped to her feet. "Why, you—"

"Sit!" Noeline ordered. "Girls, listen through the entire presentation, please. Vanna, your aunt has left you a very wealthy young woman, and you will be happy with whatever she doled out to you. She could've disinherited you, but she didn't."

"She wouldn't have. "

"She had a mind to. Your acerbic ways were never to her liking. I begged her to be kind."

"Are you . . . kidding ?" Vanna sputtered, her eyes wide.

Tannenbaum continued where he'd left off. "Half of the bookshop's ownership will go to Tegan, and the remaining quarter—"

"Will go to me," Vanna stated.

"No." The attorney eyed me. "Ms. Catt, I'm glad you're here, because the final quarter will go to you."

"Me?" I squawked. "But I never . . . Marigold needn't . . ." I felt my pulse racing. "I didn't ask for anything."

"She'll own the same percentage as our mother?" Vanna squealed. "That's insane."

"Ms. Catt, Marigold treasured you as a friend and fellow booklover," Tannenbaum went on, nonplussed. "She wrote, and I quote, ‘Allie Catt questioned me, challenged me, and drove me to read outside my comfort zone. I hope that becoming part owner of the bookshop she loves so much will bring her great joy.' "

Tegan grasped my hand and squeezed. "Partners."

Vanna jumped to her feet. "This is ridiculous! You killed her, Allie. Admit it!"

"What?" I barked, my blood seething. "You're nuts!"

"She did it." Vanna aimed a finger at me.

Noeline said, "Vanna, hush."

"No, Mother, Auntie was out of her mind. Obviously, she told Allie what she'd written in her will, and Allie took the bull by the horns and—"

I launched to a stand, one fist raised.

Vanna went silent and folded her arms. Her nostrils flared.

It took all my willpower not to blurt a comeback, such as Were you born this stupid or did you take lessons?

"Allie, please sit," Noeline said softly.

Rolling the tension from my shoulders, I complied and muttered, "I loved your aunt, Vanna. "

She made a dismissive sound—no apology—and resumed her seat.

"Moving on," Tannenbaum said in an effort to rein in the volatile proceedings. "Regarding the cash on hand, Marigold left one hundred thousand dollars to the Bramblewood Community Theater Foundation."

"Whoa, hold on!" Vanna thrust her hand into the air. "That's a lot of money. What if someone who works for the foundation killed her so the funds would get to them sooner rather than later?"

"Vanna!" Noeline scolded. "What a horrid thing to say. Those people adored your aunt. Mind your tongue."

Tannenbaum turned to a previous page. "Whatever cash remains will be equally divided between Vanna and Tegan."

"Well, at least you didn't get any money, Allie," Vanna said nastily.

Tannenbaum closed the document and laid it on the table. "Thus ends the reading of the will of Marigold Markel." He folded his hands. "I've arranged with Ms. Ivey, the manager at Bramblewood Savings and Loan, to review all the assets your aunt held. Here is her card." He handed it to Noeline.

Vanna plucked it out of her mother's hand and took a snapshot with her cell phone.

"If you need anything further, do not hesitate to call." Tannenbaum returned items to his briefcase, nodded to Noeline, Tegan, and me, but he avoided making eye contact with Vanna.

After he exited, Vanna gave her mother the business card, announced that she would be in charge of securing a Realtor to appraise the place, and added that she didn't need a house. Therefore, they would sell it. I wondered how Tegan felt about that. With a divorce imminent, she might want to keep it. Would whatever cash Marigold had bequeathed her be enough to buy out Vanna?

"You handle the bank, Tegan," Vanna said. "Give me a report. "

"Oh, now you trust me?" Tegan asked, sarcasm oozing out of her.

"If you're innocent, you're innocent. It's water under the bridge. Forgive me for implying that anything improper occurred."

Tegan shimmied her disgust.

"Regarding the bookshop," Vanna continued, "honestly, Auntie was right. I don't give a darn about it. It's yours and Allie's." She uttered my name as though it was a curse word. "You two can bury yourself with work, while I continue to thrive as the premier caterer in town." She threw the last comment in my direction.

I didn't take the bait. I smiled sweetly at her. As a girl, I'd had years of practice responding to bullies. They'd taunted me about my looks and how old my parents were.

Before Noeline could caution her eldest daughter to cease and desist, Vanna paraded out the door.

"Partners," Tegan said. "We're going to be partners."

I couldn't wrap my head around it. Why me? What did Marigold think I could bring to the table? Sure, I'd led a few book discussions, and yes, I was an avid reader, but why not give all three-quarters of the bookstore ownership to Tegan? My pal and I would have to talk about what she expected of me. I wasn't going to give up my job as a caterer, but I supposed I could devote a day or two, or, at the very least, afternoons, to the enterprise.

When we emerged from the conference room, the bookshop was bustling with customers. Like the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz, Chloe was standing behind the sales counter jutting her arms right, left, and crosswise giving directions.

Tegan clasped my arm. "This afternoon, will you go to the bank with me? That way, I won't miss anything Ms. Ivey might say. You know me when my brain gets flooded with too much information. "

"Sure." She was exaggerating. She could process data as quickly and efficiently as a computer, but I could see she was feeling overwhelmed after the reading of the will.

"I have to admit I'm surprised Vanna didn't demand she take the lead at the bank," she said. "Auntie's house obviously captured her attention. Shiny objects and all that."

I chuckled.

Noeline wrapped Tegan in her arms and petted her hair. "Darling, I know you loved your aunt. I'm sorry that your sister is . . ." She couldn't finish.

"Is a gray sprinkle on a rainbow cupcake?" I quipped.

Tegan cackled, and gave me a high five for coming up with the retort. "Isn't that what you were going to say, Mom?"

"Something like that." Noeline kissed Tegan's cheek. "Call me if you need me for anything." Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Are you going to the B and B?" Tegan asked.

"No, I'm off to have lunch with Rick." She waited for a second, as if hoping Tegan would say, Have fun, but Tegan didn't. Mopping the tears with her pinkies, Noeline followed a customer carrying a large Feast for the Eyes tote bag out the front door.

For a few minutes, I lingered at the shop and directed eager readers to the proper aisle, while Tegan and Chloe concluded sales.

When the place quieted down, I drove to Dream Cuisine. I spent the next couple of hours finalizing orders that were due to be delivered tomorrow: two dozen blueberry scones for a startup café; four dozen iced cookies for Jimmy Madison's birthday party; six dozen mini spinach quiches, three dozen mozzarella-stuffed mushrooms, and four dozen bacon-wrapped jalape?o peppers for an office party at Legal Eagles, one of my steadiest gigs. The spicy aromas of the appetizers tickled my salivary glands and made me hungry. While the scones and cakes baked, I noshed on bacon bites, tiny morsels of bacon wrapped around melon and sprigs of rosemary. Yum.

While icing the cookies, which I'd made in cowboy boot shapes, seeing as the birthday boy desperately wanted to grow up to be a sheriff with a horse, I mulled over the foods I still wanted to taste-test for Marigold's memorial. Tarts. Tea sandwiches. I knew how to make trifle, but I decided I needed to bake at least one pound cake. I hadn't made it in years.

At one p.m., Tegan arrived and said she would drive.

Bramblewood Savings and Loan, one of the first banks established in town, was located on Main Street, east of Mountain Road. Like the other buildings in town, it was red clapboard with white trim. In the main room, customers were waiting in a cordoned-off line for two clerks to attend to them. To the right, small offices were fitted with desks for all advisors. We strode to the manager's reception desk and gave our names. The assistant escorted us into Ms. Ivey's office, a formal room with dark brown furniture, one potted plant, and three filing cabinets.

Ivey rose to greet us and dismissed her assistant. "Ladies." A stately woman, she reminded me of the original Miss Moneypenny in the James Bond novels. Her eyes were cool and quizzical, her demeanor reserved and official.

After Tegan introduced me and explained that I was purely there for moral support, the bank manager led us to the vault of safety-deposit boxes so we could inspect Marigold's container. The room smelled like metal and some kind of cleaning solution. After the gate was locked and we were alone inside, she gave Tegan a key, retaining a duplicate for herself, and together they inserted their matching keys into the locks of Marigold's box and twisted. A click was heard. The box jutted out an inch. Ivey slid it from its slot and set it on the felt-topped cabinet in the center of the room.

She lifted the lid and removed a sheaf of papers, which had been tucked into a clear pocket folder. "This is a list of the contents of the box. I have a duplicate in your aunt's folder on my desk." One by one, she laid the items on the felt and, using a pen, marked them off against the list. " ‘Tiffany diamond ring, value twenty thousand.' Check. ‘Blue antique cushion lab diamond ring, value nineteen thousand.' Check. ‘Late-Victorian old-mine diamond cluster ring, value sixteen thousand.' Check."

Tegan gasped. "I had no idea Auntie had so many costly keepsakes. I mean, I knew she appreciated antique jewelry, but all I remember seeing are knickknacks, you know? I thought the mainstay would be funky rings picked up at garage sales and pawnshops."

Ivey added more rings to the collection, reciting each piece's worth. Then she moved on to the bracelets. " ‘Bulgari serpent bracelet in blue rose gold with sapphires, fifteen thousand. Elizabeth Locke Venetian glass, ten thousand. Hermès Dans les Nuages Art Deco bangle, four hundred dollars.' "

Tegan pointed to the latter. "Okay, that's the kind of jewelry I thought she owned. Glitzy, trendy stuff. Why did she have so many items worth thousands? She rarely wore any of them. Wait until Vanna finds out."

"Is anything missing, Ms. Ivey?" I asked, once again picturing the empty envelope at the crime scene.

"No, I don't believe so." She regarded her list and counted again. "Wait. A ring is gone."

"Which one?" Tegan asked.

" ‘A diamond-and-ruby target ring, circa 1920, value seventy-nine thousand dollars.' "

"I remember that ring," Tegan said. "Auntie told me all about its history. It was worth seventy-nine thousand?"

"At purchase, that was the cost. The value will have gone up by now."

"Did Marigold sign out the ring?" I asked.

"Yes. Phew." The bank manager looked visibly relieved. " There's a slip I overlooked. She often withdrew jewelry and brought it in a week or so later."

"So it's most likely at her house," Tegan said. "I'll bet Vanna knows where it is. She's a snoop. She'll have gone through all of Auntie's closets and drawers by now."

Why would Marigold have removed that particular ring? Did she plan to have it resized? Or cleaned? Had she intended to wear it to the community foundation tea? It wasn't on her hand the day she died.

"This piece." Tegan indicated the Georgian-style trembling floral brooch that featured dozens of hand-cut diamonds. "It's the one my mother inherits."

I said, "It's gorgeous."

"She'll never wear it," Tegan said. "She'll be too nervous."

"She needn't be," Ivey said, her mouth curving up at the corners. "Each item is insured, and your aunt prepaid the premium for ten years. I'll convey that to your mother."

That meant if the ring was stolen by the killer, Noeline could be compensated. I supposed there was some comfort in that.

"Marigold certainly planned ahead," I said. "When did she pay the premium?"

The bank manager consulted her file. "A month ago."

Again I wondered whether Marigold had foreseen her own demise.

"Let's put everything back in the box," Tegan said. "I'll return with my sister, and we'll go through the items together."

When Ivey completed the task and reinserted the box into its slot, she said, "Follow me."

We retreated to her office, and while she fetched water for us, Tegan and I sat in a pair of chairs facing the desk.

"Can you believe it?" Tegan whispered. "We won't have to worry about sales to keep the bookshop going, and if we have to, we can sell off jewelry to keep afloat for years."

"Not we. You. "

"You're my partner now. "

"About that . . ."

She held up a hand. "Uh-uh. I will not allow you to give your portion to me or Mom, and I sure as heck won't let you bequeath it to Vanna."

I chuckled. As if.

"Auntie wouldn't want me to hawk the jewelry, but if I have to, I will. The bookshop was her baby."

"Here we are." The bank manager laid cocktail napkins on the small table between our chairs and set down the glasses of water. Then she perched on the ergonomic chair behind her desk and opened a folder. "Now I'll fill you in as to the cash on hand, as well as to the significant value of her stocks and bonds."

"Auntie had stocks and bonds?" Tegan pressed three fingers to her lips, thoroughly dumbfounded.

I batted her arm. "You didn't know? Are you saying I knew more about your aunt than you did? She told me she'd invested."

"She told me, too," Tegan said, "but I had no idea they would have a significant value. How much are we talking?"

"Over a million dollars," Ivey replied.

Tegan whistled.

"The man Marigold was to marry," I said, to enlighten Ivey, "not only left her his estate, but he was wise in matters of finance and taught her everything he knew." Marigold had regaled me with stories of their blossoming love. Sometimes I'd wondered if she'd embellished their history, merely to keep the spark alive, but after seeing the jewelry and hearing about her portfolio, I realized she hadn't inflated any of it. She'd promised to teach me some of her investment tricks but hadn't gotten around to it. "Your mother must have known your aunt's net worth," I added. "That's why she chided Vanna."

Ivey said, "In addition, she had over seven hundred thousand dollars in cash. "

"Seven—" Tegan cut herself off. "Vanna is going to be miffed that she didn't come along on this visit."

Ivey passed an envelope embossed with the bank's logo to Tegan. "I have another for your sister. Pull out the sheet of paper. At the top, you'll see the stocks, starting with Apple and Google."

I craned my head to get a peek at Tegan's list. Ivey hadn't misrepresented anything. Tegan and Vanna were going to be very wealthy women, and if Tegan wanted to buy Vanna out of the house, she would be able to do so.

Tegan muttered, "Crud."

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I just realized my husband will get half of everything I inherit."

"No, he won't," I said. "In North Carolina, separate property refers to assets or debts owned by one spouse individually."

"Really?"

Ivey nodded.

"Separate property is considered all property," I said, "whether real estate or personal property, that has been acquired by a spouse prior to marriage or attained by gift or inheritance during the marriage. All you have to do is keep anything you inherit in your own account, not a joint account."

"How do you know so much about this?" Tegan asked.

"A customer at the Eatery sheltered his money from his wife, paying for all things household-related from their joint account and giving her a monthly allowance, as if she was an employee. When they divorced, he was able to pay her a flat sum. He was a scoundrel."

"I'd like to be a scoundrel, too." Tegan smiled. "Ms. Ivey, can you make sure I do it correctly?"

"Contact Mr. Tannenbaum. He can advise you," she suggested. "By the way, Marigold withdrew a large amount of cash recently. "

"When?"

"Friday, at the end of day."

"After I deposited the weekly take?"

"That's right."

Tegan said, "How much?"

"One hundred thousand dollars."

I gawked. She'd come here after she'd fainted? Was she of clear mind or still dazed? "Ms. Ivey, did she tell you why she needed it?"

"It wasn't my business."

"That's a lot of cash to be carrying around in a purse."

"Oh, she didn't put it in her purse. She asked me to slip it into one of the bank's envelopes, and then she stowed the envelope in the brown leather satchel she'd brought along. I presumed she intended to hand it over to someone."