by Sarah Atwell
“Maybe I could ask Matt what we could do, in the morning?”
She gave me a tremulous smile. “Could you? I don’t mean to trouble you, but I really do need to see him, to explain.”
“I’ll call Matt first thing in the morning. You get some sleep.”
But I went to bed with a nagging worry in the back of my mind.
Chapter 11
The Romans wore peridot to protect themselves from enchantment and also to ward off depression.
The next morning, Allison and Frank were up before me and busy in the kitchen area. More jet lag, no doubt. At least I would get a good breakfast out of it.
“Good morning,” I said, reaching for the coffee. “Sleep well?”
“Until I woke up at three. I guess I’m still on Irish time,” Allison said.
“It’ll pass,” I said wisely, based on my vast experience of the last week. “Give it a few days. Hand me the phone, will you?”
She passed the handset to me, and I punched in Matt’s home number. When I got no answer there, I tried the station and was put through with only a short delay. “Hi, stranger,” I greeted him when he answered.
“Hey there. Everything all right?”
“What, I can’t call you just to chat?”
“I’d love to, but I’ve got to get to work.”
I went on quickly. “Listen, there is something I’d like to run by you. Do you have time for a quick lunch?”
He sighed. “Don’t count on it. You know we always have security issues around the Gem Show, and I don’t know if I can get away.”
I thought briefly. “I know, and I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. How about I bring some sandwiches by?”
“Sounds good. Maybe around one? There’s an all-hands meeting at eleven, and who knows how long that will run.”
“Deal. See you then.”
I turned to find Allison watching with a half-smile, and no sign of Frank.
“Did Frank leave?”
“He did. He said he had business to attend to. Things going well with Matt, then?”
“I think so. We had dinner at his place on Monday.”
“Ah,” she said and then fell silent.
“I’ll ask him what to do about Cam. If anything. I mean, we don’t have any real reason to worry—it seems silly to get the police involved, if he’s just gone off to mope.” I hoped. Was I trying to convince Allison or myself?
“I hope you’re right. You know him better than I do, of course. He wouldn’t do anything . . . to harm himself, would he?”
“No! Don’t even think like that. It’s more likely that he just got so involved in whatever project he’s working on that he lost track of time, and he’ll show up this weekend. I just want to talk to Matt and see what . . .” I dribbled to a stop. I wasn’t sure what I was asking, but I just wanted to cover all the bases. In case. A few months ago I would have laughed at my own fantasies, but the last couple of months had been stressful, so I thought it better to be safe than sorry.
I decided to change the subject. “You ready to go downstairs?”
“I thought I’d run home, change clothes and such. I should be back around ten, if that suits?”
“Fine. I’ll tell Nessa. You know that she and Frank are . . .” What? Dating? Seeing each other? Flirting?
Allison’s mouth twitched. “I guessed as much, not that Uncle Frank has said a word. I think it’s . . . sweet.”
“As long as he does right by her.” When I heard myself, I almost laughed out loud. Nessa definitely did not need protection.
“He’s a good man, from all I’ve seen of him. Even the relatives had nothing bad to say, although they were a bit ticked off that he’d stayed away so long. But I gather they’re used to that. The memories some of those people have! They’ll be telling me about Aunt this and Cousin that, and then they mention it was all in 1938 or some such.”
“I get the feeling that things move more slowly in rural Ireland. You sure you don’t want to go back?”
“Maybe once or twice a decade. No, Em, my life’s here now. Whatever that may be.” She stood up quickly and started clearing the dirty plates and cups from the table. “I’ll be on my way, and see you in a bit. Right?”
“Good. I’ll walk the dogs and head downstairs. Allison—whatever happens, I’m glad you’re back.”
“Thank you, Em. I didn’t want to let you down.”
I think we had succeeded in embarrassing ourselves sufficiently for so early in the day, so I headed for the shower while Allison slipped out. Once dressed, I walked the dogs, then returned them, made sure they had food and water, and headed downstairs, where Nessa was already waiting.
She looked up when I came in. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Nessa. Guess what? Allison’s back. She’ll be here in an hour or so.”
Nessa studied my face. “Is that good news?”
“I think so. She says she’s back to stay.”
Nessa hesitated before asking, “Has she heard from Cam?”
I shook my head. “No, and she hasn’t been able to reach him. But at least now they can work out . . . whatever. Oh, if Denis shows up, send him to me, okay?”
“Do you think he will be back?”
“I’m pretty sure he will—I’ve still got some of his stones. I’ll be in the studio.”
From the studio I kept an eye on the shop. Shortly after noon, I wrapped up the piece I was working on, stowed it in the annealer, then went out to get food. Still no sign of Denis. I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed. I had to admit I had never seen anything quite like the stone he had showed me the night before. But Frank had hinted that it might not be a stable change or that Denis might not be able to replicate it. There were a lot of “ifs” involved, and I had the feeling that Denis would need a lot of kiln time to work them out. If he couldn’t pay for the time, what would he do? The kilns weren’t all that expensive, but if he couldn’t afford my studio time, how was he going to pay for a piece of equipment?
Loaded with an assortment of sandwiches, chips, and cold drinks, I presented myself at the police station and was waved through to Matt’s office. He was on the phone when I arrived and held up a finger, telling me to wait. I busied myself laying out our repast while sneaking glances at his face. He looked frazzled.
He hung up the phone at last, then stretched out in his creaking chair, flexing his shoulders. “This looks great,” he said, eyeing the food. “Things have been crazy the last few days, and I think there were a couple of meals that didn’t happen. How you doing?”
I grabbed half a sandwich and popped the top of a soft drink. “Good, I think. At least the jet lag is gone. And Allison’s back.”
“When?”
“Last night. Frank’s still around.”
I watched as Matt inhaled half a sandwich in record time. When he had finished chewing, he asked, “You wanted to talk to me about something?”
“Yes, I needed to run something by you, as a hypothetical.”
He picked up another half sandwich. “Go on.”
“I don’t want to be a nervous Nelly, but I haven’t heard from Cam since he stormed out on Saturday, when I told him about Allison. I figured he needed time to lick his wounds, so I didn’t think much about it. But now Allison’s here, and she hasn’t heard from him, and his phone is going straight to voice mail.”
“What is it you want me to do, Em?” Matt said neutrally, ripping open a packet of chips and eying the remaining sandwich. I pushed it toward him.
“Right now, nothing. I guess I’m asking . . . when do you decide someone’s missing, and what do you do about it?”
He munched his way through a handful of chips before answering. “I know Cam, and I know the circumstances under which he left. I don’t think there’s any way you—or I—could say he’s officially ‘missing.’ He’s an adult, he left under his own power, and he has good reason to avoid you and his girlfriend.”
I knew he was right, but that was small comfort. “Okay, how about this? I know that Cam is a responsible person, and he’s expected at a new job on Monday. If he hasn’t shown up by then, would that be sufficient grounds to take the next step? And what would that step be?”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Matt, you know I wouldn’t waste your time.”
“Fair enough. All right. First we’d check his known locations.”
“He has none here, except my place. He gave up his apartment in San Diego, and he hasn’t started looking for one here yet. And before you ask, he doesn’t know many other people around here. Professional colleagues maybe, but no friends.”
“All right. Does his phone have GPS?”
“I have no idea. Probably, because he likes techy things like that, and I know his phone is pretty new.”
“Do you know what service he uses?”
I stared at Matt, frustrated. “I barely know what service I use. And, before you ask, no, I haven’t seen any bills forwarded to him at my place. He only arrived last week. And for all I know he pays everything online.”
“If you can get access, we could find out whether he has made or received any calls since you’ve seen him.”
“Doesn’t that take a search warrant or something?”
“Maybe,” Matt said noncommittally. “And we could see if he’s used his credit cards. What about his car? What’s his license plate?”
“Matt, I don’t know any of this stuff.”
“I understand. But my hands are tied, officially, unless you file a formal missing persons report. Is that what you want to do?”
I thought. “I guess that’s why I’m talking to you. Should I?”
“It depends. This is a guy with no history of instability, and there’s no evidence of a crime. It’s hard to justify using police resources under those conditions.”
He was making sense, whether or not I liked it. And what could I give him to work with? Cam was an average-looking guy, and his only distinguishing feature was a scar on one elbow that he’d gotten when he fell off a bike when he was eight. I had no idea if he had any friends or confidants back in San Diego. He had never committed a crime, never had a drug problem or sought psychiatric help for any reason. I couldn’t imagine that his fingerprints would be on file anywhere. Cameron Dowell was about as vanilla as a person could be, except maybe smarter than average. So where the hell was he?
Matt had watched me as I worked my own way through this. Finally he said gently, “Em, I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”
“I know. This isn’t your fault. And I’m probably worrying for nothing. You must see a lot of that in your job.”
“I know you’re not the hysterical type, and I am taking this seriously. Give him a couple more days, and if he hasn’t shown up, then you can file the report and we’ll start the gears turning. All right?”
“Okay. Matt, there’s one other thing. . . . Can you check the morgue?”
Matt looked at me with something close to pity. “You really think that’s necessary?”
I shook my head. “I just don’t know. But it would make me feel a lot better if we could eliminate that as a possibility. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a bother.” I stood up.
“It’s okay, Em—that’s an easy call.”
Matt stood up, came around his desk, and wrapped his arms around me. Maybe there was nothing practical he could do, but he was doing a great job of making me feel better, and that was something.
I was the one to break it off. “You have time for dinner tonight?”
“Let’s try for tomorrow, and I’ll let you know if something comes up.”
I gathered my stuff. “I’d better get back to the shop and make sure things are okay. I’m glad Allison’s back, and I think she’s had her fill of Ireland for the moment. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Count on it. And you let me know when Cam comes walking in the door.”
“Believe me, you’ll hear me yelling from here.”
Chapter 12
A dream about peridot signifies a need for caution.
When I walked back into the shop after lunch, two pairs of anxious eyes turned to me. “Sorry—nothing new, and Matt says there’s not much we can do right now. You?”
Two sets of shoulders drooped. “No, no word,” Allison said. “I’m sorry, Em. This is all my fault.”
“No, it’s not. Anyway, Matt and I agreed that if Cam hasn’t surfaced by the time he’s supposed to start his new job, then we can start the official process and look for him. Right now let’s just assume the best and go on about our business. Assuming we have any. Nessa?”
“The same.”
“Which is zero. I’m going to go to my office and pay a few bills and then inventory my supplies. You know where to find me.”
“Office” was probably a misnomer. The ground floor of my middle-aged brick building was divided between a large open studio and a smaller display area; storage and my business-work area was squeezed in behind the shop, along with a bare-bones bathroom. The actual work area in the office consisted of a scarred countertop with a rickety rolling chair in front of it, and it was laden with a computer, a phone, and a lot of stacks of paper—supply catalogs, invoices, bills, and other records. At least it had a door, not that I ever closed it.
I managed to lose myself in necessary paperwork for an hour or two. I definitely needed more supplies, and I also needed a new trucker to deliver those supplies on a regular basis. I’d had bad luck with my last two. Would the third time be the charm?
I stood up, stretched, and ambled toward my work area in time to hear pounding at the back door. Why was I not surprised to find it was Denis? Funny—every time I saw him he looked a little bit worse, and I’d only known him a week. But he didn’t seem dangerous, just deeply distressed. Like he hadn’t slept, eaten, or even bathed for a couple of days. Didn’t the man have a day job? How could he be spending so much time at my place in the middle of a semester? I opened the door for him.
“Hi, Denis. How’re you doing?” It was a rhetorical question, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted an answer.
He pushed past me, already rummaging through his pockets. He fished out another wad of bills and thrust it at me. “Here. That brings us even for now. You said we could talk about going forward?”
“All right,” I said cautiously.
“Look, Em, I need those stones I left here, and I need more time. I think I’m really onto something with this technique.”
I was beginning to wonder if I needed to call somebody about him. And I was certainly ambivalent about having him around the studio. The man needed some serious R & R. “Denis, are you all right?” I said gently. “Can I get you some food, something to drink?”
He ran his hands over his face and slumped against the marver. “No, no. I’m sorry. Things have been difficult lately, and I’ve had a lot on my mind. I know I must sound like a lunatic.” He straightened up and looked at me squarely. “Look, I really need just another few hours with the kiln, and I need to leave another batch of stones in overnight, see if I can replicate the last couple of runs, build up some volume. I can’t pay you right now, but I swear I’ll be able to in a week or two. Can you trust me that far?”
Anytime someone used the word “trust,” it suggested the opposite to me. I wavered. But I really did feel sorry for him, and I didn’t have much to lose. “Okay, Denis. I’ll give you tonight, and some time tomorrow. But the weekend is really busy here, so that’ll have to be the end of it.”
He straightened up. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Em. I’m so close! That should be plenty of time. You won’t be sorry. Look, I’ll get out of your hair now, but I’ll come back around six, okay, and I’ll put another batch in, and then I’ll be back in the morning, okay?”
“Breathe, Denis, breathe. That’s fine. I’ll be here.”
The man was all but quivering with excitement as I escorted him out the back door.
I hoped I hadn’t made a big mistake.
After I had locked the door behind him, I restacked the piles of paper on my desk area and went back to the shop. Nessa was nowhere in sight, and Allison was straightening pieces on the shelves.
“Was that the man you spoke of last night?”
“Yeah, that’s Denis. He’s pretty high-strung. I told him he could come back and leave some stuff in the kiln overnight, and then he’ll be back tomorrow to look at it. He thinks he’s got some wonderful new technique.”
“And you didn’t have the heart to turn him down.” Allison completed my statement but with a smile. “You’re a good person, Em.”
“I try,” I said. “But he really is making me nervous. He’s stretched pretty tight, and I don’t want to pick up the pieces if he snaps.”
“What more do you know about him?”
“Not much. He said he teaches at the university—English, I think. And he has a wife named Elizabeth—he brought her with him once. That’s about all I know. But, heck, I don’t ask my students for a full profile when I let them in. Anyway, he paid me what he owes, so I guess the next day is on credit. Or maybe my gift to him.” I extricated the wad of small bills from my pocket and handed it to her. “Looks like he’s been pawning the family jewels. Poor guy. Frank says the type of gem he’s using isn’t expensive. Of course, for all I know he’s bought tons of the stuff.” I tried to imagine a ton of rough stones and gave up. Luckily a couple of lookers came in, and I approached them with the intent of turning them into buyers. “Hi, I’m Em Dowell, and I’m the glassmaker. Would you like me to explain this technique to you?”
As promised, Denis was waiting once more at the back door just before six. This time he looked almost cheerful. “Hi, Em,” he greeted me as I unlocked the door for him. “Thanks for letting me keep working. I’m sorry if I was a little crazy earlier, but I’ve been juggling so much stuff. But I’m close now, and I’m really excited.”
