All through the next day, details of the situation kept whirling through Adela’s mind. She thought about the missing painting, which was probably worth thousands of dollars–tens of thousands, even. She thought about the fact that Gromsky’s mistress wanted revenge. And then she thought about why someone might want access to a particular house; or why they might want to install cameras in a house.
For all that thinking, Adela couldn’t actually do very much. She wasn’t a police officer–and had few connections with the police in this part of the state. She also wasn’t sure how much she wanted to get involved. She did make a couple of phone calls, and confirmed a few things she suspected. Then, that evening, she left Nick watching TV and went across the street to have a long talk with Ed Rothermund.
Much later that night, when every house on the street was dark, and the bare trees threw skeletal shadows between the streetlights, Jack’s van pulled to a stop a couple of blocks away. Ed Rothermund’s house was as dark as the rest. Jack didn’t go around to the front porch. Instead, he walked in what could only be described as a furtive way to the back, where the tall windows stared blankly at the short stretch of yard that led to the alley. Adela, who was watching the street from her window, pulled out her phone and made a call to Ed as she ran down the stairs and out her own front door.
By the time she got across the street, he’d been caught. The kitchen light was on, and Adela could hear the half-hearted sounds of a struggle from inside. When she opened the back door, she saw Jack push Ed against the counter.
“That’s really undignified,” she said, “if I were you, I’d just admit defeat.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” Jack retorted. He raised his hands, either to show them he wasn’t armed or to ward off Ed, who had grabbed a frying pan from the stove and was coming towards him with a focused expression. Adela shrugged.
“If I’m ever caught breaking into someone’s house, we’ll see which one of us is right. In the meantime, you need to give Ed and I a very good reason not to call the police right now…and I don’t think that the fact that we used to date is going to help you with Ed.”
Ed lifted the pan over Jack’s head. Jack sat down on the floor, arms still up. “Don’t hit me!” Then he had the nerve to smile and wink at Adela from under his hands, as if to pretend that this was all some kind of joke that she and he had played. Adela had the feeling that if she hadn’t walked in, he might have tried to bully his way out. As it was, clearly charm was his weapon of choice.
Adela wasn’t really in the mood for charm. “Where did she tell you it was?” She asked.
“What?”
“The painting. The cameras were to get the layout of the house, right, and to help you figure out the likeliest places to search? But I’m guessing she told you a little more. Did she say it was somewhere on the ground floor, or did she give you a specific room?”
Jack sighed. “You know about Mariah.”
“We know everything!” Ed still brandished the pan. Adela gently took it from him and laid it back on the stove.
“We’ve guessed most of it…but I think there are some things you may not even know. When did she contact you?”
“Well, we started going out about two months ago.”
I knew it, thought Adela. Mariah Davis wasn’t just his accomplice; she was his girlfriend. Some things, it appeared, really did never change.
Jack continued. “She was on the rebound big time. Dave Gromsky was a schmuck. He strung her along–told her he was getting a divorce–and had her working all kinds of crazy hours for essentially nothing. Then he dumped her. She was really depressed. Not only did he break her heart, he fired her.”
“But she had an idea for how to get back on her feet, didn’t she?” Adela said.
Jack sighed. “Now that you mention it, she did. She told me about the fight between you two–” He gestured at Ed. “She said that the painting Dave supposedly stole was somewhere in the house. Dave didn’t steal it; he hid it.”
“You’re not serious! There’s no way…why would he do that? And if he did, why didn’t he confess when Mother called him a thief? He could have just told her the truth.”
Jack shrugged. “Mariah said he told her your family were a bunch of losers. He probably was too angry to tell your mother the truth at the time. Later on, when he realized the painting was valuable, he wanted to sneak in here himself and take it, but Mariah said this place creeped him out too much.”
“So you set up the meeting between Dave and Ed, and installed cameras in the house so that you could see the layout clearly. Ed even gave you a tour–he said you took sketches of each room.” Adela said.
“Yes. The plan was for me to come back sometime when Ed wasn’t home and find the painting. She told me roughly where to look. I thought he’d gone to a hotel tonight, or I wouldn’t be here.”
Adela flashed a triumphant look at Ed. “I told you checking in at the Mariott was a good idea!”
“Who’s going to pay for it?” Ed muttered. Then, he said, “Where is the painting?”
“Wait.” Adela raised a hand. “Before we get sidetracked by a treasure-hunt, you need to understand something. Mariah wasn’t trying to find the painting, not really. And she certainly didn’t intend to share it with either one of you. The autopsy’s not done yet, but early reports indicate that scopalamine was probably the cause of death.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Ed blinked at her. She ignored him.
“Scopalamine is used for anxiety. Dave had a prescription–they even found a patch for it on his upper arm.”
“Could he have overdosed by accident?”
Adela shook her head. “Not likely. What is likely is that someone else, someone who knew he took it, put more scopalamine into something he ingested right before he came into this house…maybe something he had to drink outside in your van. What did you tell him, Jack? He must have known who you were–I doubt he was in the habit of taking drinks from strangers.”
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