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“What’s the second link?” Johnson asked. “Or chain?”
“The socialite friendship,” I said. “Maybe Francie was working for a third socialite, was in the process of robbing her, and someone caught her, killed her, dumped her.”
Johnson shook his head. “From the files I went through at her apartment, Francie had been on hard times, lost all of her cleaning jobs.”
“Before she hit the Lotto?”
“Correct.”
“So maybe there was no Lotto hit,” I said. “Maybe the jewels were the explanation behind her newfound money. And maybe she wasn’t going to Palm Beach for an interview on the day she died; maybe she was going to kill someone and steal more jewels.”
Chapter
58
Sergeant Drummond thought about that, said, “We’ll call the Lotto.”
“I’d be calling past clients too,” I said. “See if any of them are missing jewelry. I mean, there were jewelry pieces the Abramses and Martins couldn’t identify in your photographs, right?”
“True,” Johnson said between mouthfuls.
Drummond’s cell phone rang. He pulled it out, looked at it, said, “Sorry, gentlemen, but I have to take this.”
He got up, leaving me with Johnson, who said, “There’s another possibility, you know.”
“Go ahead,” I said.
“Maybe Francie was the jewel thief, but she wasn’t the killer,” the young detective said. “Maybe she went to rob someone and surprised the killer.”
“You mean in the act of trying to murder a third socialite?”
“Why not?”
“Any reports of assaulted socialites?”
“Not that I know of,” Johnson said.
“Dessert?” Althea came over and said.
“I’m stuffed,” I said.
She frowned at me, said, “I make it from scratch.”
I held up my hands. “I’ll make room.”
“Sweet potato pudding,” she said, smiling. “Coffee? Tea?”
> “I’ll take a coffee,” I said.
“I will too, Althea,” said Drummond, sliding back into his chair.
“I have to be going,” Johnson said. “Can we get the check?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Drummond said. “I’ve got you both covered.”
“Let me take my part of it,” I said.
“Visiting dignitary, I don’t think so,” the sergeant sniffed.
