A Brilliant Plan

Chapter 43

"When did you manage to get the jewels back into your possession?"

"Two days later, it must have been Saturday or Sunday, I had free time to meet again with Phoebe. We had phoned several times, I mean, it was very hard for both of us. I had so much to hide and her father was dead."

"You were still on good terms?"

"Of course, we were on good terms. There was no argument or any such. As I said, it was simply a bad situation, for both of us. I visited her, and managed to retrieve my jacket but didn't check the contents. Phoebe was around after all. I didn't spend the night at her place, I simply couldn't and I also wanted to give her some room to grieve properly. Later, at home, I found out that the Maximilian necklace was missing. At first, I was a little nervous. Had I left it accidentally at the gallery? Had I dropped it on the floor? Nonsense of course, except for the missing Montenhaute, the searches and inventory counts never revealed anything out of the ordinary."

"You called Phoebe later?"

"Not right away. We had a date for dinner the following night. I simply asked her for the missing piece, she apologized for not telling me, which I accepted. I mean, in those circumstances, it was not a big deal. Her father had been killed. She handed the necklace back to me that night. Case closed. As far as I was concerned, I had the complete set in my possession again. The next morning was Monday and I drove to Marion's weekend house and stored the jewels there." Altward pointed his thumb in the rough direction of the house next door.

"When did you see Phoebe next?" Ron was leaning toward Altward and he stared intensely at his face. Altward was a broken man, he had confessed, we had him.

Altward lifted his head, a glassy unfocussed look in his eyes. He simply stared between Fowler and me into the bright blue ocean. After a minute, he responded, "I never saw her again after that night."

Tears were streaming down his face.

After that, Ron decided to break up our little assembly. He had enough on tape to put Altward behind bars and he didn't want to risk any lawyer bickering about the style of the interrogation.

Andrew Altward was put into handcuffs and brought to police headquarters in Downtown San Diego. Juanita got an update from the crime scene techies next door. Fowler and I killed some time, went out into the garden, and warmed ourselves in the sinking afternoon sun.

"What will happen to the Maximilian Jewels, now that they have been found?" I asked Fowler.

"Judging from the recent publicity, it is very likely that Mexico will claim them very quickly. And the State Department will give in for the sake of bilateral peace. A day or two?"

"Even though they are held as evidence?"

Fowler gave his thin disillusioned smile; been there, heard that, seen it all. "It will depend on whether the district attorney defines the Maximilian Jewels as evidence. If the DA is comfortable with the case without the material evidence, he may waive it being produced at the trial. The DA and the defense may agree on the facts and stipulate that the Maximilian Jewels played a minor part in the murder of Wally Eastman and carry on without them being physically present. Remember, the murder of Mr. Eastman was over something completely different. And Altward's attempted insurance fraud was with the good old Montenhaute grandma stuff. And whether it was legally or illegally, we still don't know how the Max Jewels came into Altward's possession." Fowler sighed. "But, of course, these charges are comparatively minor to the murder charge." He glanced over at me. "And you, are you happy that your plan worked out all right?"

That was probably as far as Fowler would lean over to me to tell me that he was wrong in accusing me of the break-in.

"The jewelry thing, yes. I am glad that it is over and that we found the jewels and the killer of the night watchman. But what about poor Phoebe?"

"I bet that was Altward, too," Fowler said. "He would fit the bill."

"But what's his motive?" I thought about Mundy's theory that Phoebe and her dad had stolen the jewels.

"For not telling or for killing her?" Fowler frowned. "For not telling, that is easy. Killing her dad is brought down to manslaughter. But killing Phoebe makes it two in a row and that doesn't make it look so good. The DA could throw in plenty of motives—lovers' quarrel, greed, panic, calculation, whatever."

"But do you think those were his motivations?" I insisted.

Fowler gave me the same kind of look that Ron had given me all those weeks when I always appeared to be one step ahead of him.

Fowler raised his hands and said, "OK, I give up. Either you tell me what you want or you leave me alone."

I beamed at him. "I want to be there when they hand over the Maximilian Jewels to the Mexican representative."

He looked astonished for a second and then his eyes grew into their usual suspicious slits. "That's all?" I nodded.

"I think that will be easy to arrange, you being the one who came up with the trap to retrieve 'The Max.' I will see to it." He made it sound happy for me but he did not look the part.

PoorFowler, he wouldn't see it coming.