Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [3]
“Did you hear that?” I asked Tinkie.
She shook her head. “Let’s hit the road. Maybe we can get back before dark.”
Great minds think alike. I called in the dogs, grabbed my purse, and settled into the passenger seat of her new Caddy.
* * *
On the drive to Natchez, I’d used Tinkie’s cute new laptop computer, complete with wireless Internet, to do some research on the Levert family. Monica and Eleanor were heiresses of an estate valued at close to $10 million, not counting the necklace and other jewels. While the assets were impressive, Briarcliff, their home, was expensive to maintain. And the Levert sisters were used to globe-trotting and the luxuries of life.
They lived in Natchez part of the year and also spent time in Monaco, Vienna, Tuscany, and Rio during the carnival season. It was just the two of them, with nothing to tie them down.
Tinkie crested a steep hill and pulled into a parking space on a brick-lined street. The Excelsior Tea Room was on the second floor of a downtown Natchez building that gave a view of the Mississippi River. Tinkie and I entered and scanned the room.
“Is that them?” Tinkie whispered, pinching the fat on my upper arm.
“Stop it!” I snatched my arm away, but my gaze never left the two women seated in a corner of the tearoom. Both had shoulder-length black hair layered in a casually elegant style called a gypsy shag in the 1970s. The cut didn’t look dated in the least. Nor did the women, who had to be close to fifty but looked younger. One wore red, the other black. Mirror images. Identical twins.
They rose, waving us to their table. Introductions were made as we settled into our chairs. Monica was the dominant. She did most of the talking.
“It just makes me crazy that we tried to get the police to help us, but they wouldn’t do a thing,” Monica said. Her chocolate eyes were hot with indignation. “We reported the intruder the first two nights. Officers drove out, looked around, then said we should get a dog or one of those expensive alarm systems. I couldn’t make them understand that a historic house has certain restrictions. I mean, we’ve ordered new windows, but it will take weeks. They have to be handmade to fit. It isn’t just like calling out Sears for an installation.”
“Start at the beginning,” Tinkie requested.
“Do you know anything about our family history?” Monica asked.
“No.” We’d agreed to let them tell it. It’s always interesting to learn what a client reveals or hides.
“The family dynasty started with Barthelme Levert,” Monica said.
Eleanor leaned forward and spoke quietly. “He was a blackguard and a scoundrel. Natchez society has never forgiven us for Barthelme’s brutal ways.”
“Posh.” Monica waved her sister to silence. “They’ve never forgiven us for hanging on to our fortune during the Civil War, the Depression, and this latest economic downturn. Jealousy is a cruel prod, Sister. And it’s only jealousy that makes the peahens so catty.”
“Tell us about the necklace,” Tinkie said.
“I can do better than that.” Monica reached into her designer handbag and brought out a photograph. The rubies sparkled blood red against a gold satin background. Even I gasped, and Tinkie’s finger traced the delicate craftsmanship of the exquisite necklace. The design made the rubies appear to capture the light and shoot it back in a million blades of red. I couldn’t help but notice the ruby ring on Monica’s hand as she extended the photo—another piece of exceptional craftsmanship.
“Wow,” Tinkie said. “That’s some necklace.”
“Barthelme was a scoundrel, but he knew jewels and good work. The necklace was created by Rodney Implace, one of—”
“The finest jewelers in the mid to late eighteen hundreds,” Tinkie finished. “His creations were sought after by the monarchs of Europe as well as the Rockefellers, Carnegies, Vanderbilts, and others. That ring is his, too.”
“Exactly.” Monica’s smile revealed perfect teeth. I checked Eleanor’s dental work. Also perfection. In fact, I couldn’t see a flaw in complexion,