Even before the applause died down, Jeremiah, Mollie noticed, made his exit. He’d been seated at George Marcotte’s table and probably had used up whatever capacity he had for social chitchat, after, of course, picking the security expert’s brain to his satisfaction. Whatever his relationship to her and the jewel thief story, Mollie had no illusions that this wasn’t a focused, driven man, no matter what he was doing.
As the luncheon guests dispersed, she found Griffen and offered to help clean up. “No, no, you go on,” she said, whisking about in amiable efficiency, dark curls tamely pulled back. “You’ve got your own work to do. I’ll just load everything into my van and hose it down when I get home.”
“Well, lunch was wonderful.”
She smiled. “Thanks. And everyone said so, right?”
“But of course.”
“I noticed Tabak,” she said, noncommittal. “You two didn’t sit at the same table. Last night didn’t go well?”
“Griffen-”
But an attractive, well-dressed older woman interrupted them, frowning. “Excuse me, ladies, have you by any chance found a watch? I seem to have misplaced mine. I slipped it off in the ladies’ lounge while I put on cream for a skin condition…” She sighed, her brow furrowing. “Something distracted me, and I forgot it. When I went back, it was gone. I was hoping someone found it.”
“No, I’m sorry, Mrs. Baldwin,” Griffen said, “I haven’t seen it. Do you know my friend Mollie Lavender? Mollie, this is Lucy Baldwin.” Mollie recognized the name of one of the wealthiest year-round residents of Palm Beach, a devoted promoter of the island. “Let me take another look in the ladies’ lounge, just in case.”
Griffen was so gentle and nonthreatening that Lucy Baldwin took no offense. She brightened somewhat. “Thank you, dear, I’d appreciate that.”
While Griffen rechecked the bathroom, Mollie tried to engage Mrs. Baldwin in small talk. One of Griffen’s helpers was scooping up the mango-colored table cloths. Virtually all of the luncheon guests had departed, and George Marcotte, who might or might not be interested in Lucy Baldwin’s missing watch, had also left.
“How long has it been since you took off your watch?” Mollie asked, her hands shaking. Mrs. Baldwin seemed calm, although possibly she hadn’t yet considered her watch could have been stolen rather than simply misplaced.
“Forty minutes, perhaps a bit less, I would say. I didn’t remember it until I got to my car and glanced at my wrist to see the time. I hate to think I lost it. It was a gift from my late husband the Christmas before he died.” Her eyes misted, and she sipped her water. “I hope I’m not becoming forgetful.”
“I can’t imagine that.”
“Do you think it could have been that thief?” she asked, her voice just above a whisper.
“I don’t know. Let’s see if Griffen finds anything.”
But she returned empty-handed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see it.”
“Well,” Lucy Baldwin said with a small inhale. “I suppose it’s gone. Perhaps I accidentally threw it into the trash-”
“I checked the trash,” Griffen said.
“This is rather upsetting, isn’t it? I know it’s only a watch…but the sentimental value…I suppose it’s not important…”
Mollie touched the older woman’s arm. “It is important, Mrs. Baldwin.”
Something clicked, and she straightened, said, “You’re the one who was robbed at Diantha Atwood’s party the other night. I apologize if I’ve stirred up any disturbing memories for you.”
“Please, don’t worry about me, Mrs. Baldwin. I just want to help you find your watch and make sure it wasn’t this thief the police are after.”
She blanched, and Griffen sent one of her helpers for the manager, who, after a brief search, decided it prudent to contact the police, just in case their clever, opportunistic thief had struck again.
“I quite understand,” Lucy Baldwin said, looking as if she wished she hadn’t mentioned her missing watch.
Griffen quietly resumed her cleanup, and Mollie hung around until the police came. Trying not to be obvious about listening in, she heard enough to realize they weren’t convinced her watch had been stolen-and that it didn’t exactly move their needle if it had been. They suggested Mrs. Baldwin first go home and make sure it wasn’t there and that she’d actually worn it.
She was offended. “I wear that watch whenever I go out.”
“Retrace your steps, Mrs. Baldwin,” the officer said diplomatically. “Then give us a call if you still can’t find it.”
“Of course,” she said coolly.
With word out of a jewel thief on the loose, Mollie expected the police had received numerous calls of potential robberies and not all would pan out. Obviously straining to keep her dignity intact, Lucy Baldwin retreated, and the police followed her out.
Griffen gave a low whistle and whispered to Mollie, “We’ll never know if she finds her watch or not.”
“She’s a proud woman, isn’t she?”
“And that cop just made her feel like an ass. With her status in town, she’s not going to risk having people think she’s gotten daffy. Bet she has that guy’s ass in a sling by nightfall. You know those dignified rich old ladies. You don’t want to cross ’em.”
Mollie laughed. “Maybe she did forget where she took off her watch.”
Griffen shrugged, starting out through the mansion with a big bowl of leftover salad. “It’s possible. It’s also possible our cat burglar has struck again.”
“Don’t you think he’d want us to know he’d struck?”
“Not necessarily. He-or she-might get a secret thrill out of hitting a fancy lunch with a security expert up there telling everyone how to avoid getting robbed. Ballsy of him, if you ask me. But I don’t know that he’s in it for attention.”
“Good point. Really, we don’t know much of anything, do we? At least he didn’t attack Mrs. Baldwin.”
And here she was, Mollie thought, once again at the scene of the crime.
“You’re getting into this, aren’t you? Hanging out with Jeremiah Tabak, playing girl detective.”
“I’d like to see this guy caught, that’s all.”
“Well, you’re starting to scare me,” Griffen said, grinning, and was off to her van.
Mollie headed out to the parking lot herself. She needed to get back for a scheduled meeting with Chet Farnsworth, and as she settled in behind the wheel of Leonardo’s car and opened the windows, breathing in the warm, beautiful air, she couldn’t wait to dive back into her work. She’d made the right decision ten years ago to abandon the flute, and she’d made the right decision six months ago to take the plunge and put out her own shingle. This jewel thief business was just a fly in an otherwise very fine ointment.
A mile along Ocean Drive, she glanced in her rearview mirror and saw an ancient red VW Rabbit three cars back. The infamous Croc. Mollie couldn’t make out his features with any reliability, but who else could it be? The car immediately behind her turned into a seaside resort hotel. After another half-mile, the second car pulled into a marina. The red car drew up behind her bumper. The reflection kept her from seeing who was behind the wheel, not that she had any doubts.
What did this guy think he was doing?
She took an unexpected left off Ocean Drive.
The red car didn’t follow.
“Well, there, you see?” she said aloud. “Maybe you’re just getting a tad paranoid.”
But two blocks from Leonardo’s, back on her main route, the VW fell in behind her. She eased off the gas and squinted in her rearview mirror, trying to get a better look at the driver. A man. Sunglasses. Longish hair of a medium color. Thin. Definitely Jeremiah’s informant.
She punched the button to open the security gates. What if he followed her in? Rammed her from behind? Pulled out a gun and shot her? Just because he was Jeremiah’s friend didn’t mean he was her friend.