Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Knew Too Much
"That necklace wasn't an anniversary gift, Morgan."
The elderly woman's voice shook.
"It was a warning I recognized too late the first time."
Tessa guided us into an empty conference room.
She closed the door while I carefully placed my bag on the table.
The woman sat across from me.
"My name is Ruth Bell. I'm seventy-four years old. I worked as a jewelry conservator for nearly forty years."
I stared at her.
"Then you knew what was on the necklace?"
"I suspected something terrible. But suspicion isn't proof."
She explained that she occasionally helped an old colleague at Bell & Finch Jewelers in Oak Park.
Eleven days earlier, Julian had brought a gold necklace into the shop.
He wanted the chain shortened.
He also showed the jeweler a photograph of me on his phone to demonstrate how he wanted it to fit.
Ruth recognized my name from the order paperwork.
What concerned her was the man accompanying my husband.
Graham Pike.
A real estate broker she had encountered several years earlier.
"While they were examining the necklace, I noticed a strange dark coating near the clasp," Ruth said.
"Was it poison?"
"I didn't know. But it wasn't normal."
She told me that a faint smear of the substance had transferred onto a polishing cloth.
When she later rinsed the cloth, the water turned cloudy, and a dark film separated from the fabric.
"It looked wrong," she whispered. "And then I heard your husband speaking to Graham outside."
"What did they say?"
Ruth hesitated.
"Julian asked whether you'd have to wear it for an entire evening."
I felt physically sick.
"Graham told him not to worry."
Tessa gripped the edge of the table.
"Why didn't you call the police?"
"I made an anonymous report. I didn't have the necklace, and I couldn't prove what they intended."
Ruth lowered her eyes.
"Then someone followed me home. The next morning, I found a photograph of my granddaughter outside her college dormitory."
Silence filled the room.
"They wanted me frightened enough to stay quiet."
I thought about the bus.
"You followed me that afternoon?"
She nodded.
"I found the address of your workplace. I waited outside, then boarded your bus."
"Why didn't you tell me everything?"
"Because if you confronted him without evidence, I was afraid he'd hurt you."
Her voice cracked.
"I couldn't let another woman die because I was too frightened to speak."
Ruth then explained what had happened to Nora Sloane.
Four years earlier, Nora had owned a valuable lakeside property.
She repeatedly refused to sell it to a group of investors.
Shortly afterward, she received a gold necklace as a gift.
Within days, she became violently ill.
Doctors initially struggled to explain her sudden deterioration.
She died before anyone identified a definite cause.
Not long afterward, her property changed hands through a suspicious transaction.
The buyer was a company associated with Graham Pike.
I felt the room tilt.
"You're saying he killed her?"
"I'm saying there were questions nobody wanted answered."
I looked at the glass in my bag.
"Then we need the police."
Tessa nodded.
"Right now."
We contacted the authorities and arranged to meet Detective Lena Ortiz.
She was a serious, observant woman in her forties with dark hair pulled into a tight ponytail.
She listened without interrupting.
Then she examined the photographs I had taken of the necklace and the cloudy water.
"You haven't worn it?"
"No."
"Good. Don't handle it again."
She arranged for the glass, necklace, and container to be collected as possible evidence.
She also recommended immediate medical guidance because I had handled the jewelry with my bare hands.
At the hospital, I underwent an examination.
Fortunately, I had no obvious symptoms of serious exposure.
The doctor couldn't determine what the substance was.
But she warned me not to return to the apartment until the situation had been investigated.
Detective Ortiz interviewed Ruth separately.
Then she returned to speak with me.
"Mrs. Avery, we're going to investigate your husband's connections to Graham Pike."
I nodded.
"There's something else," she continued.
She opened a folder.
"We checked your financial records after you mentioned your husband's debts."
My stomach tightened.
"Did you find something?"
She studied my face.
"Have you recently applied for a large life insurance policy?"
"No."
She turned the folder toward me.
On the first page was my full name.
MORGAN REED AVERY.
Beneath it was an insurance amount.
$1,200,000.
And under the beneficiary section was one name.
JULIAN AVERY.
Detective Ortiz looked directly at me.
"Then we have another problem, Morgan."
May you like
She pointed to the signature.
"Because someone signed this application in your name."
