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“I don’t remember much about her,” said Vesta. “All I know is that she was pretty, and that she married into money. And then she disappeared.”

“She didn’t just disappear,” said Wilbur, fingering his now naked chin and cheeks. “Rumor had it that Quintin killed her when she failed to produce him an heir.”

“Failed to produce him an heir!” said Scarlett. “Who does he think he is? The King of Hampton Cove?”

“He’s the owner of Garibo, the biggest candy company on Long Island,” said Father Reilly. “Like his father before him, and his father before that. So it stands to reason that he hoped to father an heir who’d take over the family business one day. And when Vicky proved infertile, Quintin was less than amused.”

“Vicky Gardner was infertile?” asked Vesta. “Now that’s news to me.”

“At least that was the rumor back in the day,” said Father Reilly. “This was right before she disappeared, too, so naturally people assumed the two things were connected.”

“So you think Quintin killed her and got rid of the body?” asked Scarlett.

“That’s the story that did the rounds back then.”

“I always found it hard to believe little Vicky Freeman wasn’t able to conceive,” Wilbur mused. “She looked fertile to me.” He licked his lips for good measure, drawing disgusted looks from both Vesta and Scarlett, and a tut-tutting sound from Father Reilly.

“Wilbur, eww!” said Scarlett.

“What—can’t a man appreciate beauty? She was very pretty, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Can you please stop touching your face?” Vesta snapped. “It freaks me out. Yes, I also remember Vicky as a very pretty girl. All the boys were crazy about her. And I never understood what she saw in Quintin Gardner, who’s not exactly a handsome devil.”

“Nasty, too,” said Wilbur. “He once called me an opprobrious name for shortchanging him.”

Vesta was shocked—not because of Wilbur shortchanging a customer, or Quintin Gardner calling him out on it, but for Wilbur to be aware of a big word like opprobrious. “So if Quintin killed his wife, how did her ring end up inside a goatherder in my daughter’s cupboard, that’s what I’d like to know.”

“Who cares?” said Scarlett. “You wanted to investigate this case because you were hoping for a fat reward. But if Quintin killed his wife it stands to reason there won’t be a reward.”

“No,” said Vesta. “But if he did kill her justice still needs to prevail.”

Scarlett gave her friend a look of surprise.“Since when do you care about justice?”

“Why do you think I started the watch? I care about justice, Scarlett. I care about justice a lot!”

Scarlett merely arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.“Look, I gotta go,” said Wilbur, fingering his absent beard once more, until Vesta slapped his hand away. “If you decide what you want to do about this Vicky Gardner thing, let me know. I say we drop it.”

“I agree with Wilbur,” said Father Reilly. “The watch’s purview is not to solve cold cases from two decades ago.”

Reluctantly, Vesta had to admit that her associates had a point.“Okay, okay,” she said, throwing up her hands. “So let’s drop the case. We’ll never solve it anyway. Quintin Gardner, if he did kill his wife, probably hid her body where no one will ever find it.”

After Father Reilly and Wilbur had left, Vesta turned to her friend.“You’re very quiet all of a sudden. What’s eating you?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, I’ve never particularly cared about justice and all that. But the idea that Quintin got away with murder somehow doesn’t sit well with me, Vesta.”

“Doesn’t sit well with me either,” Vesta grunted.

Both women shared a look, then smiled.“Let’s nail this sucker,” said Scarlett, voicing a sentiment they were both feeling.

There might not be a reward in it for the watch, but then money wasn’t all that mattered. Putting away a murderer was all the reward they needed.

Chapter 17

When Tex walked in on his wife later that day, he was surprised to find her seated at the kitchen table, busy with superglue and the remnants of the Otto Spiel knockoff.

“What are you doing?” he asked, even though it was pretty obvious what she was doing.

“Gluing the figurine back together,” she said, her tongue between her lips.

“But why? It’s not going to fetch you any money if you try to sell it.”

“I don’t want to sell it. I like it and I want to keep it.”

Tex took a seat at the kitchen table and watched his wife work for a few moments. Then he picked up what used to be the bottom piece of the figurine and studied it for a moment.“I wonder who made it. Probably the Chinese or the Koreans.”

“Yeah, probably,” said Marge.

“I still don’t understand how it got into the kitchen cupboard. I never saw it before, did you?”

“Nope. Never saw it before either.” She stopped working for a moment and frowned. “Did you know that Vicky and I used to be friends? Back in high school?”

“Yeah, I think I do,” said Tex. “Vaguely. Wasn’t she the pretty blonde who called me a doofus for stepping on her toe once during the community dance?”