Ivy’s mind raced. Would it be a good place to sink something, if you wanted to go back and retrieve it later? She wasn’t exactly sure if this was her own thought, or something she picked up from her brother.
Good a place as any. Tie it up to an anchor, mark it with your GPS. Should stay put, unless there’s bad weather.
Thanks, Bro-chacho. Let me know what happens with your nav stuff.
Roger-dodger, over and out.
“Check the anchor lockers,” she called up to Everett.
She watched him walk across the boat and hunker down aft. “There’s one back here.”
“See if there’s one forward.”
Everett moved to the front of the boat. He popped open a hatch. Then he stood upright. “Should be one in here, but it’s missing.”
Ivy held up the dive log. “Might be here. And maybe the tiara, too.”
Everett motioned for her to hand it up to him. He flipped through it. A square of cardboard flittered out. He bent over and picked it up.
“What is it?” Ivy asked.
“Looks like a clue.” He showed her a business card. On the back, a phone number was scribbled down. On the front was the Beranger Import logo and Susan Miller-Day’s name and digits.
Chapter 10
“Only one way to find out,” Ivy said.
Everett drove north again, toward St. Augustine proper. “I don’t think so.”
“We’ve gotta dive on these coordinates.”
“No, we don’t.”
“You don’t know how to dive?”
“I do,” Everett said. “I just prefer not to.”
“C’mon, Susan’s business card, the missing anchor, the story about Johnny expecting money. The tiara has to be at that location.”
“Maybe we can confirm it another way. We’ll ask Susan once we get to Beranger’s house.”
Ivy’s heart sank. “What? Now? But I smell like mildew, and my makeup’s been melting in the sun!”
He took his eyes off the road to squint at her. “What? You look fine.”
Fine, sure, but I don’t look awesomely put together anymore! She didn’t say.
“Sorry, but I just don’t like scuba diving. It makes me feel claustrophobic. Something about the mask, the regulator, the dimness of the ocean.” Everett shuddered.
“Wow, really?” Ivy assessed the man. “To me, it feels kinda like flying.”
“It feels more like drowning to me. Plus, I want to brace Tanner.”
Ivy scowled at him. “Why the butler? Because he threw Bronwyn Beranger under the bus after she dismissed the tiara as a hunk of junk?”
“Partly.”
Ivy doubted she’d get any more out of him. Since they skipped past most of the historic area traffic, it was a quick jaunt to the Beranger compound. A big white Lincoln ticked in the sun near the west wing. Everett ignored the suggestion that they enter at the east wing and trotted up the veranda steps. Tanner had seen the Dodge. It wasn’t hard to spot. He already had the door open.
The manservant cocked his head disdainfully. “I thought I told you—”
“Why’d you implicate Bronwyn in the tiara theft?” Ivy asked. “Especially after she said the tiara was a gaudy bauble.”
“I said no such thing. I said Mrs. Beranger was the only one who ever had an interest in the object. Miz Bronwyn is acutely aware of the tiara’s value. It was she who insisted upon hiring a private detective.”
Ivy juggled this around in her head. “That makes no sense.”
“There was an offer,” Everett said.
Tanner’s eyes ticked between the two of them. Finally, he made a decision. “Yes, a private buyer made a substantial offer for the Queen’s Dowry Tiara.”
“If Bronwyn insisted, there must have been a discussion,” Everett said. “An argument even.”
“It is not my place to discuss the relations of my employer.” Tanner said.
Didn’t you just now? Ivy didn’t say.
“We’d like to speak to Miss Miller-Day,” Everett said.
“I have guests to attend to,” Tanner spoke as he closed the door. “You’ll find Miss Miller-Day in the east wing.”
“Having a party.” Everett said.
“A reunion of sorts. You are cordially uninvited. Good day.”
They walked around the house. Ivy could feel her hair poofing beyond the ability of the mousse’s hold against the humidity. Her makeup felt like it was sliding off her face, a sticky mask that would drop onto her low cut blouse and make it impossible to dry clean. Mildew still hung around in her nasal cavity. She was on the verge of sneezing, of runny eyes—mascara disaster.
“State your business.” A guard stood in a booth near the closed loading dock doors. Ivy checked herself in the glass. Okay, she was freaking out about nothing.
“Here to see Susan Miller-Day,” Everett said.
“Do you have an appointment?”
Everett pressed his ID to the glass. “I don’t need one.”
The guard looked; then pointed to a man door. They were buzzed in.
How Everett managed to navigate the confusing halls of this part of the house amazed Ivy. At every turn, she would have picked the opposite direction. Yet in a moment, they walked into the office. The women did a collective examination as Everett walked straight through to Susan’s door.
She gave a start that turned angry for a flash. Susan quickly got a hold of herself and turned off her computer monitor. Solitaire, Ivy figured.
Everett preempted anything she might say. “Tell me about John Starling.”
Ivy caught it. Just a quick widening of the eyes. Mama had a spell that told her when her kids were up to no good. In this case, Ivy didn’t need it.
“He died in an accident. At one time, he worked security here,” Susan said, her voice low.
“About a year ago,” Everett said, “the last time the tiara was seen.”
She picked up a pen and tapped it on the desk. “That sounds about right.”
“Fresh out of the military.” Everett kept on with the non-questions.
“Still had the crew cut,” Susan smiled, “and the yes sir, yes ma’am.”
“According to Franklyn, he doesn’t place new hires on the most sensitive sites. Did you have some influence over Starling getting posted here?”
Susan threw her hair back. “You come busting in here without knocking, and start accusing me of interfering with the security staff. I think you’d better leave, Detective.”
Everett gave Ivy an elbow, but she already produced the business card. It was sealed in a plastic evidence bag, but still legible.
The woman nearly fell getting off her high horse. “I’ve mentioned contacts being important in this business. Starling still had them. He’d been stationed in Europe where most of the better decommissioned military material is warehoused.”
Ivy felt a strong hunch come on. It forced her to jump in. “His sister, Linda-Lou, mentioned John having a new girlfriend, that he was going to get hitched. Was that you?”
Susan’s face darkened. “I run one of the top weapons importers on the Eastern Seaboard. John Starling was a fresh-faced kid just out of the army. If he thought we were anything more than infrequent colleagues, then the delusion was on him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m in the middle of a complicated negotiation to obtain two Cold War-era tanks. You can see yourselves out.”