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Guinevere leaned hard against his side, as though she knew what he was thinking and didn’t intend to let him remain distracted for long. Grumbling wordlessly over doing what a dog told him to do, Van turned back to his examination.
On a table beside the bed was the strongbox Aunt Cynthia used to lock up her jewel chest when it was going back and forth from the vault in the basement. Vancouldimagineherliftingthechestoutandsitting on the bed — carefully, so as to not muss the covers — while she went through the jewelry. She wouldn’t have strewn the pieces all over the bed even while she was choosing and discarding possibilities. She never, ever would have left them that way when she wasdone.Norwouldshehaveleftthechestupended haphazardly on the bed, inviting one careless touch to snap the lid off the chest, as had happened.
“Someone’s been here who shouldn’t have been,” Van said.
“Yes. I didn’t take that chest out of the strongbox. I tried on a few things, but every one of them went back where it belonged.”
“What’s missing?”
Aunt Cynthia sifted through the jewelry. “Mostly thediamonds,Ithink.Butlook!Whoeveritwasdidn’t getthis!”Triumphantly,shewavedtheMinnieMouse necklace he had bought for her as a child.
“That’s the most you can find to worry about?” He smiled. That was Aunt Cynthia, all right.
“The necklace Guinevere found — she must have picked it up downstairs, in the hallway between the party patio and the elevator,” Aunt Cynthia said. “Our girl is smart, but she’s not exactly made for operatingtheelevatorandopeningthedoorintothis apartment.”
“The burglar dropped the necklace.” Van nodded in agreement. “She followed his trail to the elevator and went back for us.”
Van ran his fingers through his hair. The habit had taken hold ever since Mary said she loved his hair rumpled and proved how much she loved it.
The Saint Bernard nuzzled his hand back onto her collar. He didn’t know where she wanted to take them this time, but thank heavens it was Guinevere who was dragging him around by the collar. If he’d hadtoleandownforstubby-leggedLancelot’scollar, his back would’ve been broken by now.
Theirdestinationturnedouttobebackdowntothe big pool and open-air party room, which welcomed them back with its inviting dance floor, salt-water scent from the pool and stars glinting in a warm, velvet evening.
Van strode alongside Guinevere into the room and came to an abrupt halt.
“What’s going on here, Guinevere?” But the dog was already gone.
She had dashed to Lancelot’s side. He was crouched beside the pool, growl-barking at the prince. Lancelot’s threatening tone was unlike any Van had ever heard come from the Basset Hound’s throat. Lancelot’s teeth were bared too. He meant business.
The target of his wrath was probably the one responsible for the theft of Aunt Cynthia’s jewelry. Van would lay odds that Lancelot was at this moment smelling jewelry with Aunt Cynthia’s scent all over it in the man’s pockets. Van wanted to join Lancelot in the growling.
Prince Tomas wasn’t paying much attention to Lancelot, even when the solid little brave soul broke into full baying mode.
Van spared a second to look around for Mary, as he always did when she might be in the vicinity. Wheneverhefoundher,hecouldresthiseyesonher and feel quietly happy. He wasn’t looking for happy this time, but he was relieved to see her on the other side of the pool. That should keep her well away from the confrontations with the prince. She was as riveted to the scene as Van was. Then she turned, jaw dropped in shock.
“Uncle Brock?”
Van followed her gaze.
Yes, there was Mary’s Uncle Brock, with his hands full. What was he doing here? Why was a sparkling necklace dripping from one of his hands? Why was a pie poised to be thrown in the other?
Aunt Cynthia grabbed Van’s arm. “Brock couldn’t be the thief.”
The necklace said differently.
Chapter Thirty-Three
A Royal Pain
V
AN WANTED TO JUMPinto the brawl-about-to-be, but he wasn’t sure who to tackle first. He forced himself to examine the two men.
The hand Brock wasn’t using to hold the necklace was occupied balancing the pie. Now that Van was looking more closely, he could confirm Brock was jockeying for position, looking for the perfect launch point to connect the pie with the prince’s face. Perhaps jealousy had done its job, persuading Brockhe’dbeenanidiottobreakthingsoffwithAunt Cynthia. Now he would make a point with a pie.
Whatever his motives, the pie mystery was solved as far as Van was concerned. But what about the necklace? It couldn’t mean what it looked like. Aunt Cynthiawastoogoodajudgeofcharacter.Brockwas a maggot for breaking her heart, but he couldn’t be the thief.
Van turned his attention to the other man. He had some suspicious bulges in every pocket Van could see.
