Three-Day Town - By Margaret Maron Page 0,47

on her slender arm tinkled as she pushed back her artfully ragged bangs. “So, so sad,” she repeated.

“She said something about a watch and a necklace,” Sigrid said.

“Denise didn’t take my watch,” Mrs. Wall said quickly. “I misplaced it and Denise had cleaned here the day before, so I did ask Phil to look for it. As he pointed out, though, she’s never taken jewelry and I did find it later.”

Her eyes slid away from Sigrid’s thoughtful gaze and she busied herself with the manila employee files that still lay on the coffee table.

Hentz picked up on her body language, too. “Was it a valuable watch, ma’am?”

“Yes,” she said reluctantly.

“May we see it?”

“Why? I told you. I carelessly misplaced it and then I found it again. I felt so bad accusing Denise. I was going to apologize to Phil today.”

“Nevertheless, if we could just see it?” Sigrid persisted, feeling more strongly than ever that there was something about the watch that was making Mrs. Wall uncomfortable. “It will help us understand what objects appeal to Mrs. Lundigren’s weakness.”

“Oh, very well. It’s in my bedroom.”

The woman stood and her bracelets jingled down her wrists as she reached into her pocket for something.

Sigrid and Hentz shared a puzzled look. As soon as Mrs. Wall turned the corner, Hentz quietly crossed the room and paused just beyond the doorway to listen intently. A few seconds later he returned to his chair, and Sigrid said, “She keeps her bedroom door locked?”

He nodded in confirmation. “Everything else in this place may be Craftsman brass and copper, but that sounded like a Yale lock to me. A steel lock with a deadbolt.”

Mrs. Wall returned shortly and handed them a black velvet box. Inside was a cocktail watch disguised as a bracelet. The flat links of white gold were set with a blinding array of pavé diamonds, the thin square dial was outlined in emerald-cut diamonds, and the knob of the winding stem was a small rose-cut diamond.

“It was my mother’s,” she said. “My father had it designed for her.”

“Not exactly a Swarovski crystal cat,” said Hentz.

Mrs. Wall smiled. “No.”

“But it certainly sparkles like one of those figurines,” said Sigrid.

“Which is why I first thought Denise had taken it, but Phil swore to me that jewelry was something she never took.”

“Who had the missing necklace she mentioned?”

“It’s never been recovered, but we’re fairly certain that it was taken by someone else. 4-B had men in to measure for wallpaper. He probably snagged it in passing when no one was looking. By coincidence, Denise had cleaned up after a party there that very morning, so when the owner finally missed the necklace she had left on her dresser, she automatically assumed Denise had taken it. But then Phil remembered that Denise was only hired to clean the kitchen and dining room. She would have had no reason to go into the bedroom. Especially with other people in the apartment. She couldn’t bear to interact with strangers.” Mrs. Wall shook her head ruefully. “Besides, she took a glass ring holder from the windowsill over the kitchen sink that morning, and so far as I know, she’s never stolen more than one item at a time.”

Sigrid closed the velvet jeweler’s box and handed the watch back to Mrs. Wall. “You must have been relieved to find where you left this.”

“Yes,” the older woman said, slipping it into her pocket. “I should very much hate to lose it. My husband thinks I ought to keep it in our bank vault, but I love wearing it to parties.”

“I don’t suppose you were at Luna DiSimone’s party last night?” Sigrid asked.

“You suppose correctly, Lieutenant. I did have to listen to several complaints, though.”

“Did you relay those complaints to Lundigren?”

“Heavens, no! We try”—her eyes glistened with sudden tears—“ tried not to bother him after hours.”

She gave a deep sigh. “I’ve called an emergency meeting of the board for this evening, but I don’t know how our management company will ever find someone as good to replace him.”

Hentz said, “Mrs. Lundigren said there may have been some animosity between Antoine and her husband. Would you know why?”

“Absolutely not. Whatever happened in the basement stayed in the basement as far as Phil was concerned. Unless it was a firing offense, he wouldn’t speak of it.”

“Have there been many firing offenses?” Sigrid asked.

“We had to let someone go about two years ago,” said Mrs. Wall. “That’s when we hired Antoine Clarke.” She pulled one of the manila