Alex Harris 00 - Armed

music. My parents love to dance and they always played music from the forties. I agree it seemed like a nicer time.”
    “Where do you live?”
    “In a house my grandmother left me. It’s old and needs a lot of work but no one else wanted to take it on. My brother and sister are both married and didn’t want it. Me, I like something with a bit of character. It’s a lot of work, though.”
    “I can imagine. Can I get you a drink?”
    “A brandy would be nice if you have it.”
    “I do.”
    “You won’t join me?”
    “No. I’m not much for alcohol, though I do like a good piña colada or margarita. But mostly it just gives me a headache so I avoid it.” I handed John his glass.
    “Well, cheers.” He clinked his glass against my cup of tea.
    “John, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. That first night you walked us out and asked to look in our trunks. Why? You already had the murder weapon.”
    “Yeah, but someone wiped it clean of prints. Which means whoever killed Mrs. Scott wore gloves or something. If it had been either of you, you wouldn’t have had much time to dispose of them. Besides we searched that place thoroughly. I thought the best bet would have been to stash it in your car.”
    “Hmm. You found nothing and yet you still suspected me?”
    “Not right away, but when Officer Corliss found the shovel, I had to follow that lead.”
    “You didn’t mention Mr. Poupée. Do you still suspect him?”
    John paused. He leaned up against the sofa with his legs stretched out. He ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. “I’ll be honest here. I didn’t put him high on my list at first.”
    “But now?”
    “Mrs. Scott, who worked for him for twenty years, I might add, didn’t trust him—for whatever reason we’ll never know—enough to take the box of eyes with her to her meeting with him. She mailed them away because she wanted to see his reaction to her theories first, whatever they were. Personally, I don’t understand why she did that. Mailed them to Mr. Absher, I mean. They’re just a box of colored eyes. Why not leave them in her desk or at home.”
    “I don’t know,” I said, still fearing Mr. Poupée might be involved. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
    We sat in silence looking into the fire until John’s beeper buzzed. “Sorry.” John pulled out a cell phone and pressed a button. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said a few minutes later.
    “What?”
    “The lab. I left the letter and box with them to confirm the prints came from Mrs. Scott.”
    “And?”
    “The eyes are full of diamonds.”

    ******

    “Diamonds! Are you absolutely sure?” demanded Mr. Poupée a half hour later.
    “Yes, positive.”
    I found myself at the police station for the second time in a week. I didn’t even know Indian Cove had a crime lab. This made me feel proud of our little hamlet.
    The men talked and I watched the intent way John took in Mr. Poupée’s reaction. On the way to the station John told me smuggling diamonds usually involved more than one person and Emmanuelle would have needed help.
    Mr. Poupée lowered himself onto a wooden bench. “I can’t believe it. Emmanuelle a diamond smuggler?”
    “I thought of something else earlier,” I said. “If she’s capable of this, then maybe she’s the one who turned your proposal over to the competition.”
    Mr. Poupée shrugged. “Could be.”
    “Another thing I find puzzling. Why didn’t Mrs. Scott insure the package? I don’t know what diamonds are worth, but it’s got to be a small fortune.”
    “The only thing I can think of is she didn’t want to bring attention to the box.” Mr. Poupée slumped on the bench, the wariness contorting his face.
    I turned to John. “Are you going to have the police in Florida pick her up right away?”
    “No. She’s coming back tomorrow. I’ll have a few plain-clothes guys meet her at the airport. How did you get her to come back so soon?”
    “I told her we have a major problem with one of her new clients. She wanted to call the client so she could try to do a bit of damage control over the phone. But I told her it better to work from here where we had access to all the orders, etc.”
    Something still bothered me but I couldn’t bring it into focus.
    “She’s not suspicious?” John asked and I wondered if maybe he should have her picked up in Florida.
    “No, she’s coming back. This new client she’s trying to land in Florida would really open