Read The Wicked Wife (Murder in Marin Book 2) Online
Authors: Martin Brown
“But this gives our community an unneeded black eye,” Pamela told Sylvia dismissively.
But Julia convinced her otherwise. “We dedicate ourselves to making this one of the Bay Area’s best places to live. I’m sure the local police and real estate agents would rather not see this story, but the truth is that crime happens and we’ll never be as safe as we could be if robberies and such are just swept under the carpet.”
“I hate it, but you’re right,” Pamela said in a tone of reluctant disgust. “Sylvia, go ahead and do what you must do!”
It was rare for any of the
Standard
community newspapers to break a story that would catch the attention of all the region’s media. That had not occurred since its lead coverage of the shocking revelations in the case of Sausalito’s gossiping gourmet. To Rob’s delight, Sylvia’s story caught the attention of several media outlets—not just in San Francisco, San Jose, and Oakland, but as far south as Monterey Bay, and as far north as Napa and Sonoma counties.
The robberies were still topic number one when the Peninsula’s best families gathered two weeks later, for the Belvedere Ball.
Not to be outshined, Pamela and Julia wore stunning pieces that were rented from a nearby jeweler, and insured with special coverage riders to assure their safe return. Pamela complained bitterly to Julia. “I feel like a fraud!” But, she put on a brave face that night for the rest of her social set to see.
Willow, who was on the arm of William for most of the evening, appeared to be having a wonderful time. Best of all, just forty-eight hours earlier, her two new jewelry pieces arrived from Paris.
Filled with many of the gems that had been extracted from Julia and Pamela’s missing pieces, these newly made pieces also contained two lovely emeralds that once belonged to Willow’s grandmother. The same gems that had disappeared from her mother’s collection nearly fourteen years earlier, leading to accusations and bitter exchanges between Willow and her parents that never were resolved.
To dance at this glittering event with two of her bereaved victims sitting mournfully nearby gave Willow indescribable delight. And to know, as well, that two stones from her earliest theft were now embedded in these new creations, made her evening complete.
On the Monday morning following the ball, Judge Botherton, weary from listening to his wife’s mournful cries over her lost jewels, placed a second call to his longtime acquaintance, Sheriff Canning.
Canning, in turn, invited Detective Austin to come to his office for a working lunch.
Eddie, always knowing that the sheriff was ever sensitive to the pressure points all elected officials are subject to, had no doubt that this friendly invitation was motivated by Canning’s need to push for progress in the case of two robberies the media had taken to calling, the “high society heists.”
After deli sandwiches served on the sheriff’s long conference room table, Canning got down to business. “Are you making any progress with the Botherton, Hassie robberies? I’m starting to take some real heat on this case.”
“To be honest, I’m at a dead end.”
“No suspects?”
“Actually, I’ve got a very good suspect.”
“So, why are you not moving on it?”
“Simple. She’s the wife of one of the world’s wealthiest people.”
“
What?
”
“You’ve heard of Willow Adams, the supermodel who married William Adams last year? She’s been my prime suspect since I first went to each of the two crime scenes and interviewed Mrs. Botherton and Mrs. Hassie.”
“What? …You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Both Botherton and Hassie tell nearly identical stories. In the weeks immediately prior to the thefts, they both showed Mrs. Adams the jewels they wear each year to the annual Belvedere Ball. Both walked with her into their bedrooms to pull the jewels out of pocket panels they had installed in their walk-in closets. Subsequently, Adams was in their homes for charity event planning meetings, and both victims say that the last time they saw their jewels was when they were showing them off to Adams.”
“Wow,” Wilson muttered, shaking his head.
“Wow is right! Neither home shows any evidence of forced entry, and in both cases not a dime was lifted; the only items missing were the jewels. You and I both know that if they had the same housecleaner and they showed him or her where these jewels were kept, and the next time they looked the jewels were gone, the cleaning person would be our number one suspect.”
“Exactly!” Canning said with a nod. “But the only person who you know who did see these jewels has no obvious motive to steal those gems.”
“That’s the problem. Jack, I went through both homes on the day that I interviewed the victims. I then went back to each with crime techs. Zip. I doubt Hassie and Botherton decided to cook up some crazy insurance scam because they vastly overspent their household allowance—although, let’s face it, in the years we’ve been dealing with Marin’s high society families, we’ve seen some pretty wacky stuff. So, unless someone else beamed down from the Starship Enterprise, we have no suspect other than Willow Adams.”
“And no evidence that these two shared some handyman, or any other service person, even a masseuse who came into the home in the time between their showing these jewels to this Willow person and the discovery of their disappearance?”
“Nada, amigo. I worked over both women to be sure they provided me with names, dates, and so on of service people who may have entered the home. And nothing matches up.”
“Shit!”
“Tell me about it. Ideally, I’d put the pressure on Willow Adams. But, come on—first of all, it makes no sense! Secondly, her husband could have you, me, and the entire department crucified.”
“I suppose she could be a kleptomaniac.”
“Absolutely! And just to satisfy my own curiosity, I discreetly did some checking, but I was hesitant to get to close. If the department starts snooping around a little too vigorously, it wouldn’t be long before we found ourselves facing a very angry William Adams.”
“I certainly can’t disagree with that,” Canning said, seeing his own hopes for winning a fourth term as county sheriff going up in smoke if someone with the money of a William Adams decided to back his next opponent. In an election in which never more than fifty thousand dollars had been spent, Adams could drown Canning’s hopes with pocket change.
“I mean, it’s not unheard of; there have been at least two successful film stars involved in shoplifting thefts. Both of those were viewed more as emotional issues than actual kleptomania,” Eddie pointed out. But he knew his boss was no longer listening.
“You’ve done great work, as always,” Canning said, as he patted Eddie on the back and walked him toward the door.
Eddie shrugged. He had taken the matter of the robberies as far as he could. It would remain an “active investigation,” but Eddie knew that as far as the sheriff was concerned, this would remain a closed case. The media would soon move on to the next crime, and the risk any opposition candidate would use this unsolved case to argue against the sheriff’s re-election carried far less risk than sticking his nose any further into this case and earning the enmity of someone who could do him real political harm.
Over lunch later that week, Wilson privately shared with Judge Botherton Eddie’s findings.
The judge, whose name would soon appear on the same ballot as Canning’s, decided it was more prudent to take the insurance money and put the entire business to rest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Willow’s days of great happiness continued, starting with William and her going off to a private resort in Tahiti to celebrate their first anniversary.
The blue-green waters, the endless brilliant blue sky, the spacious home that sat on an all but deserted beach, and a staff anxious to meet her every need added to her bliss.
She took with her the two new prized pieces done by, “the brilliant Jacques Allard.” She wondered if she should send more gems his way from a few other pieces currently owned by the group she thought of as FOB—Friends of Botherton. She was still relishing the delight she took in having their diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires reinvented while her victims looked on in envy!
But the next grand Belvedere Ball was nearly a year away, and Willow had more pressing matters on her mind—principally, getting out from under the thumb of the ever-bothersome James Finch.
While she had only suffered through one loathsome encounter with him at the W Hotel since his blackmail video emerged, Willow had no doubt that James would be planning other acts of treachery.
As she rocked gently in a hammock, delighting in the touch of gentle tropical breezes, it occurred to her that perhaps she could make James uneasy by getting closer to his wife, Jade. Willow and she had known each other for well over a year, but had never been friends.
If she and Jade were to become closer, James might begin to think that the risk of pursuing her was no longer worth the price.
And what about that spectacular video that he had of her and Viktor? Over all these years she had built a network of friends in Paris. Certainly, it was possible to locate Finch’s operative, who was key to the video’s creation.
This was a different nuclear option. Finch could destroy her relationship with William, but having just received a second one hundred million dollar payment by passing their first wedding anniversary, Willow was already far wealthier than she was when she first met William. Finch’s duplicity, on the other hand, would ruin his relationship with William. Given William’s wealth and influence in San Francisco, it would be devastating to his standing in the law community. A reputation built over a professional lifetime would suddenly evaporate.
That possibility should give James pause.
While not certain which path she should pursue, it was clear that she had options. This thought brought her some relief. Eliminating James as a threat meant she could pursue her affair with Kozlov and not have to look over her shoulder at all times.
And while other women might worry about jealous husbands, Willow took comfort in the fact that William carried himself like a man who didn’t have a care in the world.