“She could have been looking for whatever was in that base all along,” Lexy said. “But how did it end up on the table and not in the cat? Unless this is another item and she was still looking for what was inside the cat.”
They looked at the frozen frame. Darlene, hand in pocket, already moving away.
Tina looked between them. “Is she the one?”
“We don’t know yet,” Nans said. “But she’s the question we haven’t answered.” She picked up her bag. “Thank you, Tina. You’ve been more useful than you know.”
Tina stood a little straighter. “I’ve been saying that for years.”
They left, back up Oak Street, the long way around this time. The dog in the yellow ranch was still at the glass door. It recognized them. If anything, it was more enthusiastic.
Ida waved at it on the way past.
It lost its mind completely.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Darlene was behind the register at the wine and cheese store, penciling something into an invoice. She set the pencil down slowly when Nans, Ruth, Ida and Helen entered.
The shop was dim and cool, the bottles lined up in their rows, the handwritten cards fluttering slightly in the air from the open door. Ida drifted toward the gourmet shelf with the instinct of a homing pigeon. Ruth set her iPad on the corner of the counter. Helen clasped her hands and looked pleasant and patient.
Darlene folded her arms. “What do you want?”
“We know you took something from the yard sale,” Nans said. “Not bought. Took.”
The shop was very quiet. One of the handwritten cards trembled on its bottle.
“I don’t know what you think you saw,” Darlene started.
“It’s on video.” Nans said it gently, the way you’d tell someone their coat was inside out. Just a fact. No theater.
Darlene’s jaw shifted. She looked at the invoice. She looked at the window. She looked at five women who were clearly not leaving.
“It’s mine,” she said finally. “It was always mine.”
“Tell us,” Nans said.
Another long pause. Then Darlene reached down and pushed back her sleeve to reveal a sparkly gold bracelet with garnets set in a row, deep red catching even the dim shop light.
“My great-grandmother’s.” Her voice came out matter-of-fact, but careful. “She died when I was seven. I barely remember her.” She touched one of the stones with her thumbnail. “But I remember this. She let me wear it once. Red like Christmas, she said.” A pause. “She died that winter.”
Nobody said anything. Darlene seemed to prefer it that way.
“When I got older I started wondering where it had gone. Figured it would have ended up in the house eventually. Grandma kept everything, but she didn’t know where this was. I’d been looking for years.” She pulled her sleeve back down over the bracelet. “And then there it was. On a card table between a broken clock radio and a set of fondue forks.”
“So you put it in your pocket,” Nans said. Not an accusation. Just the shape of what had happened.
“Yes.”
“Darlene.” Nans tilted her head. “It was a yard sale. You could have just bought it for a couple of bucks or told your cousins you wanted it.”
Darlene let out a short, sharp sound — almost a laugh. “Ha. And start the whole family brewing over it? No.” She straightened. “People would have wanted to have it appraised, make a big deal out of, maybe even fight me for it. And Kyle —” She stopped.
“What about Kyle?” Ruth asked.
“Kyle needs money.” Darlene said it the way you’d say the sky is blue, a fact so established it barely needed stating. “He always needs money for something he’s gotten himself into. If he’d seen me negotiating over that bracelet he’d have been at my elbow in thirty seconds pointing out what it might fetch somewhere.” She shook her head. “It was easier to not call attention to it.”
“What has Kyle gotten himself into?” Ruth asked.