Chapter 11 Holt #2
“No,” Tom said, shaking his head. “To be honest, I deliberately didn’t ask too many questions about Victoria’s family jewelry, Sienna’s, or the pieces left to Victoria.
I thought if I didn’t know the details about Victoria’s jewels, I wouldn’t have to bring them up in the divorce proceedings.
” He looked at June directly. “I wanted her to be able to keep her mother’s things without a fight over them. ”
“That’s very generous of you,” June said warmly.
“It’s not very legally sound,” Holt pointed out, “but it tells me what I needed to know about your intentions.” He held Tom’s eyes. “Tom, did you know that Victoria’s grandfather was a cat burglar?”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Then Tom Morrison spluttered, sat forward, and stared at Holt as if he’d just announced that the building was on fire.
“I beg your pardon?” Tom managed. “Where on earth did you get that from? That’s complete nonsense.”
“I’m afraid it’s not,” June told him gently.
“No.” Tom shook his head firmly. “Absolutely not. I knew that man. He was decent and respectful. Considerably more so than his son, and light years ahead of his granddaughter in terms of basic human behavior.” His jaw tightened.
“You’re telling me this because of what’s in the safe, aren’t you? What’s in it?”
“We’ll get to that,” Holt said. “Victoria’s father wrote a letter to Sienna before he died. In it, he told her that Victoria had been a cat burglar.”
Tom opened his mouth.
Then he laughed.
It was a genuine laugh, the kind that arrived before the person had decided whether it was appropriate, and Tom caught himself after a few seconds and pressed his lips together.
He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“I know this isn’t a laughing matter. But Victoria stealing things?
” He shook his head. “Victoria wouldn’t steal a bread roll.
She barely tolerates touching objects that don’t belong to her.
She’s fastidiously particular about other people’s property. ”
“Victoria apparently had a juvenile record for theft,” June pointed out.
“Oh, that.” Tom waved a hand. “That was closed, and she was vindicated. Alvin Frost had given her a pair of emerald earrings that had belonged to his aunt, Lady Ellington. Lady Ellington was a frequent summer guest at the Sandpiper Grand Hotel, and she’d gone a bit.
..” He paused, choosing his words. “A bit forgetful in her later years. She accused Victoria of stealing them when in fact she’d gifted them to Alvin herself and simply couldn’t remember doing it.
” He looked at Holt. “Once that came out, the record was closed. I can get you the file if it helps.”
“Yes, please,” Holt said. “We’d like to see it.”
He noted June writing quickly beside him and felt the familiar, grounding steadiness of having her in the room. She caught details he didn’t and asked questions from angles he hadn’t considered, and thirty-eight years of distance had done nothing to change that particular truth.
“Tom,” Holt said. “What do you know about Victoria’s association with Tony Vincent?”
Tom’s expression shifted into something more guarded.
“She tolerated Tony because he was Alvin’s closest friend,” he said carefully.
“She didn’t like him. She made that clear often enough.
But when you’re young, and the person you’re dating has a best friend you can’t stand, you put up with them.
” He looked at Holt. “We all did things we weren’t proud of when we were young. ”
“Was Victoria involved with Tony’s operation?
” Holt pressed. “The chop shop?” Tom’s eyebrows rose in disbelief.
“Absolutely not,” he said, and the firmness in his voice left no room for negotiation.
“Victoria wouldn’t have gone near any of that.
She didn’t even like going past the repair shop.
” He paused. “And for what it’s worth, there was never any evidence connecting Alvin to it either.
Tony denied he had any partners. Alvin was never charged. ”
“But did you ever suspect that Alvin was involved?” Holt asked. “He and Tony have been best friends since kindergarten.”
Tom was quiet for a moment. “I honestly don’t know,” he admitted.
“I always assumed not. Then Tony denied Alvin even knew about this operation.” He shrugged.
‘But I’ve been wrong about people before.
Alvin was his best friend; he could’ve lied to protect him.
” He looked at Holt steadily. “Is this all connected to the fire incidents and accidents?”
“Yes,” Holt said. “We have good reason to believe so.”
He leaned forward and spent the next several minutes bringing Tom up to date on the key points of the case.
Holt watched his old friend’s face go through surprise and disbelief.
Before settling into an expression dawning in horror at realizing that the world they thought they’d been living in had been considerably more complicated than they understood.
Tom sat back heavily when Holt finished.
“Victoria’s father wrote to Sienna,” Tom said slowly. “And Victoria kept the letter from her.”
“We believe so,” Holt said.
“And you have security footage of Alfred loading Sienna’s safe into Victoria’s car.” Tom’s disbelief was growing by the minute.
“Yes.” Holt nodded.
Tom rubbed his jaw. “I didn’t know any of this,” he said. “I want you to know that. Whatever you’re thinking right now, I genuinely didn’t know.”
“I know you didn’t,” Holt told him, and he meant it.
“Her townhouse in Miami,” Tom said suddenly. “Have you tried it?” His eyes widened. “She could be hiding out there.”
“We’ve got officers going around there looking for her,” June advised Tom. “But we don’t think she’d be there. If Victoria is behind all this, she’d definitely know not to go to the first place we’d look.”
“What about Nigel Frost?” Tom asked. “Or his father? Alvin would know where Victoria might go if she needed to disappear. Those two have always been closer than they should’ve been after we were married.”
“We’ve been trying to reach both of them,” Holt replied. “Nigel’s phone is dead. The department he was transferring to says he’s deferred his start date. Alvin isn’t returning calls.”
Tom absorbed that. His jaw tightened in a way that Holt recognized as the expression of a man arriving at an uncomfortable conclusion.
“Tom,” Holt said. “I need to search this property. I can come back with a warrant if necessary.”
Tom shook his head immediately. “That won’t be necessary. Search whatever you need to.” He stood up. “I haven’t been living here for the past year. I’ve been at the Sandpiper Inn since the divorce proceedings started.” He looked at Holt. “You’ll need to go through my room there as well, I imagine.”
“We will,” Holt confirmed. “I’d appreciate your cooperation on that as well.”
“You have it,” Tom said simply. “Whatever you need.” He paused. “I’d also ask that you keep me informed. Victoria is still my children’s mother regardless of everything else.”
“I understand,” Holt said. “I’d also ask that you take some leave from the station while we’re investigating. Given the circumstances, it’s the right thing for everyone.”
Tom nodded slowly. “Agreed,” he said. “I’ll arrange it first thing tomorrow.”
They walked back out into the hallway together.
“I’ll arrange a team to come through your house and your room at the Sandpiper Inn.
” Holt’s eyes moved across the entrance hall automatically, the way they always did in a space he was treating as a potential scene.
He was taking in the surfaces, the details, the things that were present, and the things that weren’t.
The hall table caught his attention. On it sat two envelopes, propped neatly against the decorative bowl that had always held the household mail.
Tom stopped when he saw them. They were addressed to him.
He crossed to the table and picked them up, looking at his name written on the front of each in the formal, precise handwriting of people who wrote letters rather than messages.
Holt watched him open the first one.
Tom read it. His expression changed.
He opened the second one and read it as well.
“They’re both resignation letters,” Tom said, looking at the envelopes again. “From Alfred and Mrs. Clark.” He turned the letters over in his hands. “They’re going to work for Victoria.”
The hallway went completely still.
Holt stood looking at the two letters in Tom’s hands, and something flashed through his mind with the clean, sudden force of a connection that had been waiting to be made. He turned to June.
June was already looking at him.
She’d arrived at the same place at the same moment; he could see it in her face.
Holt and June were going over what they knew:
The scratches on Victoria’s hands were from the night he’d gone to dinner.
The scratches on Alfred’s hand that June had seen outside the flower shop.
Judy Vernon had fought back hard enough to leave skin under her nails.
The safe was stolen the night everyone was at the harbor watching the Teacups fire.
It made sense in a surreal way that Alfred was an accomplice of Victoria’s.
He had been in this household for decades.
Alfred knew every routine, every schedule, every unlocked door, and unmonitored camera angle.
He also had access to every room, every vehicle, and every piece of information about every person who passed through this house.
“Holt,” June said quietly.
“I know,” he replied.
Holt looked at Tom, who was watching both of them with the expression of a man waiting for the last piece of a sentence he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear completed.
“I think it’s time we faced what the evidence is telling us,” Holt said.
June nodded once. “Victoria is the one we’ve been looking for.”
“And she had help,” Holt continued, looking at the two resignation letters still in Tom’s hands. “From Alfred.” He paused. “And very likely from Mrs. Clark as well.”
Tom looked at the letters for a long moment.
Then he set them back on the table very carefully, as if they were something that needed to be handled with particular care, and said absolutely nothing at all.
Their case looked like it had just been solved.