She led the way down the curving path and through a delightful iron gate, all swooping swirls and curlicues, to the pool area. The sparkling water looked so appealing I wished I’d bought my bathing suit. White wicker chairs cushioned in red fabric were placed around a table next to the house. Matching red umbrellas shaded the seats from the sun.
Rachel pulled off her gloves and tossed them and her hat onto the table. “I’m in need of a drink. Can I get you something? I’ve lemonade and tea in the fridge. Both made fresh this morning. Johnny and his gang work up a powerful thirst.”
“Lemonade would be good. Thanks.”
She slipped through the French doors into the house. I leaned back in my chair and admired the view. The ocean wasn’t visible over the white fence, but I could hear the soft pounding of the surf and see brightly colored kites dipping and bobbing in the brilliant blue sky. Wrapped in appreciation of my setting, I started at the sound of the doors opening behind me.
Rachel came out carrying a tray with a pitcher of ice and lemonade and two plastic glasses. Store-bought cookies were arranged on a plate. She put the tray down, poured the drinks, and handed me mine.
“Thanks,” I said.
She sat opposite me and studied me with her deep hazel eyes. “So, what did you want to ask me? I assume it’s something about the necklace.”
“I realize you’ve thought a lot about it over the years.”
“That would be an understatement.”
“Sometimes a new person asking fresh questions can help.”
“Go ahead.”
I took a sip of the lemonade. Far too sweet. Rachel slid the plate of cookies toward me. I accepted one and bit into it. I thought it dry and flavorless. I guess I’ve been spoiled by the plethora of homemade treats served at Josie’s Cozy Bakery. “I’ve been thinking about the library withdrawal slip that seems to be at the heart of this. It has Jeff Applewhite’s name on it, meaning he signed the book out of the library. You’re the only person I’ve met who remembers him, but from what you’ve said he doesn’t sound like a library user.”
“One of the few things that sticks in my mind about Jeff, Lucy, is that that’s precisely what he was. A reader, at any rate. He usually wore a baggy trench coat with lots of pockets. It was unseasonably hot the night of the party, but he kept that coat on. The police speculated that he’d put the necklace into a pocket and simply walked out the door with it. He always had a book with him, stuffed into a coat pocket. So, yes, he was a reader. I doubt he had much money; he was nothing but an unskilled construction worker, and in the days before cheap e-books, the library was the place to go for people who didn’t have money to buy books.”
“The library still is,” I said firmly, “the place to go for people who don’t have money to buy books, never mind electronic devices.”
“Point taken.” She took a cookie and chewed thoughtfully.
I let her think.
“He was a good-looking guy,” she said at last. “Nothing special, I’m not talking movie-star quality, but in good shape, clean and always well groomed. I remember that about him too. Good bone structure and good teeth. Funny how it’s all coming back.”
That didn’t sound like the Jeff in the picture I’d found online. In that one he looked like a street bum. Still, people can clean themselves up. When they want to.
“Did he have a girlfriend?” I asked. “Anyone he brought to your parties? Did you ever see him outside of your house?”
“Not that I remember.” Her eyes opened wide and she slapped the side of her head. “There was something! Yes. Now it’s coming back. One night, probably not the night the necklace was stolen, but another, people came over for dinner. I got a ton of Chinese food in because I didn’t have any idea how many would show up. This girl—I never did get her name—was coming onto Jeff in a big way. He clearly wasn’t interested, and another girl, again no name, told the first one she was wasting her time because Jeff went for the brainy sort. Jeff and the guys all laughed at that. I laughed too. I remember that now because she, the first girl, realized she’d been insulted, and she punched the second girl. They got into a real physical fight. We laughed even more. They broke an ornament. Hilarious. Mom was mad about that too.”
“Did you tell the police about these women?”
“I did after the theft, but I don’t know if they ever followed up. I told my private investigator, and I believe he tracked them down. I have his report, if you want the names. Clearly nothing came of it.”
“I would like to know their names, thanks. But I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”
“You think one of these women had something to do with the recent murder?”
“I don’t know what I think, but I’ve found that one question leads to another, and sometimes if you follow the trail of questions, you can finally arrive at the answer that matters.”
Rachel stood up. “I’ll pull out the report. It’s no bother. I know exactly where it is.”
She went into the house and returned with a thick file before I had time to sit back, sip my drink, and enjoy my surroundings. She sat down, opened the file, and flicked quickly through the pages until she found what she was looking for. “Here we are. I don’t have pictures, but I have their information. The private investigator spoke to the women, and they claimed to have nothing to tell him. Neither of them were, so they said, at my house the night
