Part 19 (1/2)

Larry's chin came up a fraction of an inch. ”If I'd asked, she would have given me the b.u.t.ton. Angela would have done anything for me. But I didn't ask.” His eyes snapped to mine. ”I couldn't ask for a b.u.t.ton when I didn't know anything about the b.u.t.ton or the treasure, for that matter.”

I figured he'd object, and I was ready for it. ”That's what you and Angela fought about the morning she was killed, right? She figured out that you didn't love her, you were just pretending so you could get your hands on the charm string. And you didn't kiss and make up before she came to Chicago. She was still upset when she arrived at the b.u.t.ton Box. And you followed her. You confronted her. You fought and you grabbed for the nearest weapon. Did you rip the Ardent b.u.t.ton off the charm string before you strangled her with it? Well, you must have. That would explain how it didn't get lost in the dark. Poor Angela must have been heartbroken when she realized what you were up to.”

Larry crossed his arms over his chest. ”And poor Susan? I suppose you have some lame theory about her death, too.”

”Well, my guess is your feelings for her were just as phony as your feelings for Angela. You dated Susan originally because you wanted to get your hands on Ben's diary. Then when you realized you'd never get the b.u.t.ton unless you were close to Angela, you switched your affections. Once Angela was out of the way, you were free to start wooing Susan again. And it almost worked, didn't it? You would have gotten away with it if she didn't walk in here that Sunday morning looking for her purse. Once she found you with your hand in the Thunderin' Ben exhibit switching one of the old books you found at Angela's for the real diary...” I looked at the display case, picturing the horrible scene. ”You had no choice but to kill her, too.”

”Absolutely not!” Larry stomped one foot. ”None of it is true, and I won't let you repeat a word of it. Not to anyone. There are laws about slander, you know, and if word of this gets around in Ardent Lake, my business will be ruined. You can't prove it.” He stalked toward the door. ”You can't prove any of it.”

Nev stopped him with one simple phrase. ”We will,” he said, ”once the police are done searching your house and we find the treasure. And the diary. And the b.u.t.ton.”

”And even if we didn't have that...” I walked over to where I'd set my purse. ”There is the whole thing about Aunt Evelyn.”

Larry went as still as if he'd been flash frozen. ”How dare you bring up the memory of that nice, old lady? Evelyn was a dear.”

”And you were a dear to humor Angela and take Evelyn along on so many of your outings.” I opened my purse and pulled out the photograph of Larry and Evelyn in the park that I'd originally seen in Angela's bedroom. ”You were kind to Evelyn.”

”Of course I was.”

”And you did it just to humor Angela. Not because you wanted to get the b.u.t.ton from the string when Evelyn owned it?”

”I told you that's not true!” At the same time Larry took a step toward me, Nev moved in my direction, too. Even that wasn't enough to get Larry to back off. His hands curled into fists and his arms tight at his sides, Larry bent to look me in the eye. ”You're lying.”

”Pictures don't lie.” I showed the photo to Larry and, since they were leaning forward to try and get a glimpse, I held it out so Marci and Charles could see it, too. ”This picture shows you with Evelyn,” I said, though Larry certainly didn't need a reminder. ”I found it in Angela's room along with the other pictures of you she'd taken down from her wall.”

Larry sniffed. ”She was repainting.”

”She was as mad as h.e.l.l. Because I'll bet anything that Angela found this picture when she cleaned out Evelyn's house, and when she cleaned out Evelyn's house...” I gave Larry another chance to fess up, and when he didn't, I had no choice but to go on. ”Angela realized you were romancing Aunt Evelyn two years ago.”

”I...” Larry's jaw went slack and he blinked rapidly. ”I wasn't...I didn't...I...”

”You can explain it all down at the station. If there's any way to explain.” Jimmy Carns stepped in from the hallway and slapped handcuffs on Larry.

THE NEXT MONDAY, I was back at the b.u.t.ton Box and grateful for it. I was back where I belonged, lost in a world of b.u.t.tons, and as happy as any b.u.t.ton-a-holic can be.

I was just finis.h.i.+ng switching out a display of calico b.u.t.tons for one of clear gla.s.s (mostly because I hadn't played with my clear gla.s.s b.u.t.tons for a while and I was itching to get a look at them) when the bell over the front door c.h.i.n.ked and Nev stuck his head into the shop.

”Just got a call from Jimmy Carns,” Nev said. ”Larry confessed.”

”Poor Susan, and poor, poor Angela. She had the charm string with one thousand b.u.t.tons on it, and her Prince Charming finally came along. Too bad he wasn't the man of anyone's dreams.” I'd been on my knees, checking the lower shelves of the display case to make sure everything was perfect, and I got up and walked to the front of the shop. ”But at least a confession saves a long, drawn-out trial.”

”Well, it's not like Larry could do much else. He didn't hide the diary very well, or that missing b.u.t.ton. As for the treasure...”

Nev's voice drifted off, and I knew exactly how he felt. It still took my breath away to think that the Ardent Lake police had found a jewel case filled with old gold coins hidden in Larry's attic.

”Maybe they'll put the treasure on display at the Big Museum,” I suggested.

Nev grinned. ”I wouldn't be surprised.”

He was still positioned half in, and half out of the shop, and I was just going to ask what was going on when he jerked to the side, as if his arm had been pulled.

”What...” I got as far as the door, and when LaSalle saw me, he let out a bark. He was still wearing that bright blue collar and he was tethered to a blue leash. Need I say that the other end of that leash was in Nev's hand?

”What?” He acted like this wasn't any big deal.

”Bring him in.” I waved cop and dog into the shop and LaSalle ran over to greet me, paws on my knees and ears flapping. ”So, you've got a new best friend, huh?” I asked the dog. He didn't answer. He didn't need to.

”He'd only get in trouble out on the street,” Nev said, rubbing the dog's head. ”And when I suggested he might want a permanent home-”

I laughed. ”You don't need to explain. LaSalle's had plenty of opportunities to go home with the merchants and the workers from the neighborhood. He was never interested. I guess he was just waiting for the right person to come along.”

Nev dropped the leash and LaSalle wandered over to stick his nose in the trash can near my desk. With the dog busy, Nev propped his hands on my hips. ”I think that's what we're all looking for, don't you?”

I couldn't have agreed more. I slipped my hands around Nev's waist.

”Except, I hope you understand...” he said. ”You know...” I looked up just in time to see the tips of his ears turn pink. ”I mean, about the B and B.”

I wiped the smile from my face. I wasn't actually mad about what had happened in Ardent Lake on Sat.u.r.day night. In fact, I was actually pretty relieved. But it didn't hurt to tease a guy, just a little. ”You mean about how Mary Lou offered us that room for Sat.u.r.day night and we turned her down?”

”Yeah.” A look of regret crossed his face. ”I just...well, we'd just caught a murderer, and let's face it, murder isn't exactly romantic.”

”No, it is definitely not.”

”And I...” Nev tightened his hold. ”When it happens, Josie, I want it to be perfect.”

This time, I didn't even try to control my smile.

See, that was the moment I knew for sure. Perfect? Oh yeah, it would be.

CHARM STRINGS.

I find the whole notion of charm strings (also called friends.h.i.+p strings or memory strings) terribly romantic. Imagine all those girls way back in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, trading and saving b.u.t.tons, giving and getting them as gifts, then stringing them in the hopes that once b.u.t.ton number one thousand arrived, so would Prince Charming.

In fact, there were a number of superst.i.tions a.s.sociated with charm strings, and a number of them were variations on the Prince Charming story. One said that the prince was the one who had to string that one thousandth b.u.t.ton. Another turned the romantic notion on its head and said that if a girl got b.u.t.ton number 1000, she would die an old maid.