see her in her curlers.”
“Mummy, I haven’t worn curlers since the seventies.”
Tolly brightened considerably. “Gawd, did she have big hair?”
“She looked just like Ivana Trump,” Poochie said giddily. “I have photos.”
“About the cans and bottles?…”
“Claude leaves hers in my wagon,” Poochie went on. “I’ve had that red wagon since she and Eric were babies, you know. I keep it garaged and oiled and it’s still very serviceable. Bailey and I returned it to the garage by sixthirty. I noticed the time when I came in here to put the coffee on.”
“And the Gullwing was still in there?”
“Yes, it was.”
Des got up and put her empty plate by the sink. “Did you see anyone on Route 156 when you were down there?”
“Not a soul. It was still quite dark. I needed my flashlight. I fed Bailey and planned my dinner menu while I drank my coffee, same as I do every morning. And that’s when I heard my car start. There’s no mistaking the roar of its engine. I went and looked outside and there it was, speeding down my driveway.”
“Could you see who was behind the wheel?”
Poochie shook her head. “Some local youth, I’m willing to wager.”
“Did you hear anyone coming up the drive prior to that? An engine idling, footsteps, anything like that?”
“I’m afraid not, Des.”
“How about Bailey-did he bark or growl or anything?”
“Young sir’s been deaf as a post for the past two years,” Poochie said sadly. She got down on all fours and crawled her way over to him. “And who is this handsome young man?” she cooed, bumping the old dog’s head with hers. He opened an eye and snuffled at her, his tail thumping gamely. “Des, the boy who took it will return it. I’m quite certain.”
“Nobody is going to return it, Mummy,” Claudia said heatedly. “It’s gone.”
“Not possible.” Poochie knelt there on the floor petting the dog. “That car was a present from Daddy. It’s mine. Everyone in Dorset knows that. Why would someone take it?”
“It’s worth a fortune, that’s why,” Des explained.
“Any idea how much?” Tolly tried to sound casual about it. Almost succeeded, too.
“Not offhand, no.”
“Daddy will be so upset if no one returns it,” Poochie said fretfully. “And, believe me, you do not want to make that man mad because he will…” She broke off, an alarmed expression on her strong, lovely face. “Heavens, did I just say Daddy will be upset?”
“You did, Mummy,” Claudia said, not unkindly.
Poochie got up and returned to the stove, where she cracked two eggs for herself. “I meant to say would.”
“Of course you did, old girl,” Tolly assured her.
Des turned to Claudia, who was staring right back at her, eyes narrowed. “Did you hear anything?”
“Not a thing. I must have been in the shower.”
“And how about Mr. Widdifield?”
Claudia bit down on her lower lip, reddening. “Must we involve Mark?”
“Absolutely. When a theft of this magnitude occurs we need to ascertain the whereabouts and backgrounds of everyone who routinely has access.”
In response to which Tolly released an audible sigh.
“Was Mr. Widdifield here when it happened?”
Claudia lowered her gaze to the floor. “He’s spending his nights at the office. It’s at the marina, upstairs from the Mucky Duck.”
“I didn’t see Bement’s truck outside. Has he already left for the day?”
“Bement didn’t come home last night. He hardly ever sleeps in his own bed anymore.”
“And why should he?” Poochie demanded, sitting down with her breakfast. “He’s young and gorgeous and he can have his pick of any girl in town.”
“Not just the girls,” said Tolly, winking at her.
“I think the trooper has heard just about enough of this,” Claudia blustered.
“Don’t yell at Tolly, Claude.”
“That wasn’t yelling, Mummy,” Claudia shot back, her voice getting shrill. “But if you want to hear me yell, just keep on needling me. You’ll hear such yelling you’ll wish you never got me started.”
Des heard footsteps outside on the gravel and Danielle came shlumping in the kitchen door from the courtyard in denim overalls and green rubber mud boots, her hair in pigtails. She was toting a baguette fresh out of the oven, still crackling and fragrant. “Morning everyone,” she murmured.
“Your timing is impeccable, dear. Bless you!” Poochie promptly tore a hunk from the warm loaf and used it to mop up the egg yolk on her plate. “Such a wonderful crust,” she exclaimed, smacking her lips with pleasure. “But you must stop spoiling me this way, Danielle. This is me not being serious.”
“I’m just sorry it wasn’t out of the oven sooner-our lambs needed me.” Danielle studied Des’s face with concern. “Is everything okay?”
“No, everything is not okay.” Claudia was staring daggers at her frumpy, dentally challenged sisterinlaw, clearly resenting the way her mother doted on her. “Someone has stolen the Mercedes.”
“Not your car, Poochie!” Danielle gasped.
“They’ll return it,” Poochie assured her. “By God, Danielle, you’re a miracle worker. And I don’t just mean this bread. Every time I look at Eric I thank my lucky stars he met you. That boy used to be afraid of his own shadow. He stammered, had asthma. Girls hated him. He’s come such a long way, my dear.”
“I’ve done very little, Poochie,” Danielle demurred, blushing furiously. “Do we know when the car was taken?”
“Shortly before seven this morning,” Des said to her. “Did you happen to see or hear anything?”
Danielle pondered this carefully. “I’m afraid not. We were bottlefeeding our lambs in the barn.”
“Have the Kershaw brothers shown up for work yet?”
Danielle shook her head. “No sign of them, and they were supposed to be here a halfhour ago. Why do you ask, Des?”
“Pretty damned obvious, isn’t it?” Claudia interjected. “What amazes me is that those two thieves were invited here.”
Danielle shrank away from Claudia, cowed by her harsh rebuke.
“Stay for coffee, dear,” Poochie said, ignoring Claudia completely.
“No, I must get back,” Danielle said uncomfortably. “So much to do.”
“One cup.” Tolly pushed out a chair for her obligingly. “Stay and sit.”
Des heard someone pull into the courtyard, gravel crunching under tires.
“Here’s Bement,” Claudia said, peering out the window.
Des thanked Poochie for breakfast and started out the kitchen door.
Claudia stayed with her, stride for stride. “Now do you see what I’m up against? Half the time she thinks my grandfather is still alive. You heard her.”
“I also heard her correct herself.”
“Hey, what’s up?” Bement asked as he climbed out of his Ford pickup, looking rumpled and battered. His eye was swollen nearly shut, with a purplish shiner under it.
“What happened to you?” cried Claudia, reaching for his face.
Bement recoiled from her. “Nothing. Stop fussing over me, will you?”
“I’m your mother,” she reminded him, deeply stung. “I’ll never stop fussing over you.”
To her own great surprise, Des was starting to feel sorry for Claudia Widdifield. Because absolutely nobody seemed to want her love. That sort of thing could turn a woman into a nagging, desperate loon. Des knew something about this. Brandon had turned her into one. “Your grandmother’s Gullwing has been stolen,” she informed Bement.
“Get out! Any idea who?…”
