Read Online The Chocolate Jewel Case: A Chocoholic Mystery by JoAnna Carl - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: JoAnna Carl
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summer?” she said.
“It’ll be back,” Joe said. “But maybe you won’t want to serve drinks on the porch tonight.”
“All we havein the way of air-conditioning is a window unit,” she said. “Central air is in our plan of action for after our ship comes in. Do you like gin and tonic? It always cools me off.”
I gave her the chocolates, and she introduced me to Dick Garrett. A balding fellow with a broad grin, he was much taller than his tiny wife. He and Garnet gave us an abbreviated tour of the inside of the house—the livingroom and dining room overlooked the lake, of course. The tour ended with a walk down a flagstone path leading to a deck perched on the top of the bluff overlooking the beach. These decks are common along our section of Lake Michigan, where banks from eight to twenty feet tall loom above the shore. Wooden steps led down to Double Diamond’s private stretch of sand and pebbles.
Back in the houseDick and Joe moved to a bar set up on a table in the corner of the living room and began to talk boats while Dick measured gin and squeezed limes into tall glasses.
Shade trees and the window unit made the living room temperature bearable. Garnet motioned me to a couch that sat at a right angle to a brick fireplace. The fireplace stood out because of its beauty; the rest of the decor had a shabbyfeel. The couch was sprung, and the flowers in its upholstery were faded. The hardwood floor was scuffed and scarred. A graceful Craftsman-style library table stood against the back wall, but the rest of the furniture was like ours—used, not antique. The room had dark walls that seemed to soak up the light from the two or three small lamps. The windows overlooked the lake, true, but trees andthe broad-roofed porch would keep sunlight out for another hour.
I guess the dim atmosphere was what kept me from seeing the other guest. I jumped when a voice suddenly spoke out of the gloom.
“Are you and your husband related to Gina Woodyard?”
A tiny little man was sitting in a wicker rocker at the end of the couch. I can’t call him gnomelike, because that implies baldness. This man wassmall and wizened, but he was not bald. Thick, wavy white hair was combed back from his face and crawled down over his collar.
Before I could answer, Garnet spoke. “This is my uncle Alex. Alex Gold.”
I put on my gracious-guest face. “Of course. You mentioned that your uncle would be here.” Alex Gold was too far away to shake hands with, so I nodded, and he lifted a glass filled with clear liquidin reply. I saw ice cubes and an olive in the bottom and decided it was a martini on the rocks. No G and T for Uncle Alex.
“Gina Woodyard is Joe’s aunt,” I said. I didn’t tell Alex that Gina was within a few hundred feet of him, hiding out. “How do you know her?”
“Everyone in the Midwest antique world knows Gina.”
“I knew she had an antique shop.”
He waved his martini. “Her shop isn’t allthat important. It’s her expertise.”
I must have looked as blank as I felt, because he spoke again. “Surely you know she’s one of the nation’s top experts on costume jewelry.”
“Actually, I didn’t know. But I’ve been in the Woodyard family for only three months.”
“I see that your husband gave you a beautiful stone for your wedding ring.”
I held up my ring: a broad gold band with a single not-too-largediamond mounted in a Tiffany setting. “The diamond came from Joe’s grandmother’s engagement ring. His grandparents married in the mid-thirties.”
Alex Gold slithered out of his seat, kneeling beside me. He took my hand with a clammy paw. I wanted to pull away, but he shoved my hand under the dim light at the end of the couch.
“The stone is older than the mid-thirties,” he said. “That antiquecut was popular before 1920.”
“Joe!” I wanted to get away from Gold so badly that I almost squawked. “Mr. Gold says your grandmother’s diamond is older than the
“It’ll be back,” Joe said. “But maybe you won’t want to serve drinks on the porch tonight.”
“All we havein the way of air-conditioning is a window unit,” she said. “Central air is in our plan of action for after our ship comes in. Do you like gin and tonic? It always cools me off.”
I gave her the chocolates, and she introduced me to Dick Garrett. A balding fellow with a broad grin, he was much taller than his tiny wife. He and Garnet gave us an abbreviated tour of the inside of the house—the livingroom and dining room overlooked the lake, of course. The tour ended with a walk down a flagstone path leading to a deck perched on the top of the bluff overlooking the beach. These decks are common along our section of Lake Michigan, where banks from eight to twenty feet tall loom above the shore. Wooden steps led down to Double Diamond’s private stretch of sand and pebbles.
Back in the houseDick and Joe moved to a bar set up on a table in the corner of the living room and began to talk boats while Dick measured gin and squeezed limes into tall glasses.
Shade trees and the window unit made the living room temperature bearable. Garnet motioned me to a couch that sat at a right angle to a brick fireplace. The fireplace stood out because of its beauty; the rest of the decor had a shabbyfeel. The couch was sprung, and the flowers in its upholstery were faded. The hardwood floor was scuffed and scarred. A graceful Craftsman-style library table stood against the back wall, but the rest of the furniture was like ours—used, not antique. The room had dark walls that seemed to soak up the light from the two or three small lamps. The windows overlooked the lake, true, but trees andthe broad-roofed porch would keep sunlight out for another hour.
I guess the dim atmosphere was what kept me from seeing the other guest. I jumped when a voice suddenly spoke out of the gloom.
“Are you and your husband related to Gina Woodyard?”
A tiny little man was sitting in a wicker rocker at the end of the couch. I can’t call him gnomelike, because that implies baldness. This man wassmall and wizened, but he was not bald. Thick, wavy white hair was combed back from his face and crawled down over his collar.
Before I could answer, Garnet spoke. “This is my uncle Alex. Alex Gold.”
I put on my gracious-guest face. “Of course. You mentioned that your uncle would be here.” Alex Gold was too far away to shake hands with, so I nodded, and he lifted a glass filled with clear liquidin reply. I saw ice cubes and an olive in the bottom and decided it was a martini on the rocks. No G and T for Uncle Alex.
“Gina Woodyard is Joe’s aunt,” I said. I didn’t tell Alex that Gina was within a few hundred feet of him, hiding out. “How do you know her?”
“Everyone in the Midwest antique world knows Gina.”
“I knew she had an antique shop.”
He waved his martini. “Her shop isn’t allthat important. It’s her expertise.”
I must have looked as blank as I felt, because he spoke again. “Surely you know she’s one of the nation’s top experts on costume jewelry.”
“Actually, I didn’t know. But I’ve been in the Woodyard family for only three months.”
“I see that your husband gave you a beautiful stone for your wedding ring.”
I held up my ring: a broad gold band with a single not-too-largediamond mounted in a Tiffany setting. “The diamond came from Joe’s grandmother’s engagement ring. His grandparents married in the mid-thirties.”
Alex Gold slithered out of his seat, kneeling beside me. He took my hand with a clammy paw. I wanted to pull away, but he shoved my hand under the dim light at the end of the couch.
“The stone is older than the mid-thirties,” he said. “That antiquecut was popular before 1920.”
“Joe!” I wanted to get away from Gold so badly that I almost squawked. “Mr. Gold says your grandmother’s diamond is older than the
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