Murder by Yew (An Edna Davies Mystery #1)(49)

Edna hurried to her small office and picked up the phone before she remembered the line was dead. The excitement left her as quickly as it had come. “Drat, drat, drat,” she said, slamming down the receiver. “Why now? Where are those darn repairmen?”

When she turned around, Mary was standing in the doorway, frowning. Hank, too, was watching her from beside his new mistress, his head slightly cocked. Edna felt some of her enthusiasm return.

“Don’t you see? I need to talk to Charlie and ask him if anyone checked Tom’s truck. If he finds the appointment book, he’ll know where Tom was going last Thursday after he left here.”

Mary shook her head. “If the police found anything like that, don’t you think they’d have mentioned it? That’s why they’ve been talking to Danny, to find out where he and Tom were that day.”

The words hit Edna like a glass of cold water in the face, but she wasn’t about to let go of this one hope until she’d checked for herself. “I have to talk to Nancy. Maybe she knows where he kept it. Maybe everyone forgot about it.”

As Mary looked doubtful and opened her mouth to reply, a low growl began deep in Hank’s throat. Edna froze, wondering if the dog were about to lunge at her, when the big lab whipped around and headed for the front door, his growl turning into sharp barks. Over the din, Edna heard the crunch of tires on the driveway.

“Bet that’s the telephone truck,” Mary said.

Two hours later, the young woman and middle-aged man who had arrived to fix Edna’s phone line announced that it was back in service. The man flipped through some papers on a clipboard. “Do you know anything about the problem next door?”

“That’s me,” Mary said dryly. “A branch from one of the beech trees by the road knocked the line out.” She turned to Edna and said, “Come on. Let’s show them.”

“You go. I need to make some calls.”

“You can’t stay here alone. I promised Charlie.”

The repairman turned to his partner and jerked his head toward the front door, probably sensing a quarrel brewing. He called over his shoulder, “We’ll meet you over there, but we’re on a tight schedule.”

Mary turned to Edna, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve got to come with me. I won’t leave you here, and if I don’t get over to my place, they won’t wait.”

Edna was about to object, then realized it would do no good. Besides, she owed Mary more than that. She would just have to call Albert later. “You’re right,” she said. “Let’s get our coats.”

It was after four o’clock that afternoon by the time Mary’s phone was working. Edna decided to call Starling first, since it was two hours earlier in Colorado, and neither Grant nor Albert would probably be home in the middle of a Monday afternoon. She dialed Starling’s studio.

“Oh, hi, Mom. Detective Rogers told me you’d probably call this afternoon.”

Edna heard suppressed laughter in her daughter’s voice and was both surprised and puzzled. “Charlie? How do you know Charlie Rogers?”

Starling laughed merrily. “He’s nice, isn’t he? Cute, too.” Obviously, she was enjoying a little game at her mother’s expense.

“Star-ling.” Edna drew out the name with a tone that said her daughter had better stop teasing.

“Okay, okay, but you’re not going to believe it. Remember the story I told you about the mime and the brother-in-law?”

“Yeeesss,” Edna said hesitantly, trying to guess what Starling’s taking pictures in Quincy Market had to do with a local detective.

“He’s the brother-in-law.”

Edna shook her head, not understanding. “Charlie? How can that be? I thought you said the man was from Seattle.”

“That’s what he told me, but it was a cover. Turns out, the mime is a cop, too. Jake. Only Jake’s with the Boston P.D. and not as sexy as Charlie. Do you know if he’s married?”

“Who?” Edna was still trying to figure out what Starling was trying to tell her.

“Charlie.” Starling sounded exasperated.

“How would I know? Why was he in Boston pretending to be someone’s brother-in-law from Seattle?”

“Charlie and Jake are part of a special task force, investigating some sort of fencing operation.”

A small light came on in Edna’s head. “By fencing, I’m sure you don’t mean sword play. Is this part of the burglary case he’s working on? The antiques that have been stolen from homes in this area?”

Ignoring Edna’s attempt at humor, Starling said, “It must be. They’ve been following a guy here in Boston who they suspect is warehousing old furniture and stuff and selling it on the black market.”

“But what does that have to do with you?”

“Oh, wow. You don’t know, do you?” Excitement was rising in Starling’s voice. “Someone broke into the studio and then ransacked my apartment. Both places …”

“What?” Edna’s heart lurched as her daughter’s words brought back the scare of her own break-in. “When? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Mom.” Starling sounded impatient at being interrupted. “They hit the studio sometime last night and got into my apartment after I left for the shoot in Marblehead this morning. Both places are trashed, but it looks like all that was taken were pictures and negatives. Charlie thinks the same people are responsible for both burglaries. Can you believe it? Someone stole the pictures off my trial wall.”