The Blue Moon

by Lorena McCourtney

  “For a short time I did have a twinge of, oh, something other than supportive feelings,” Abby admitted, wanting to be honest without going into embarrassing details. “Now I’m just so terribly sorry that you’re facing this. Was the specialist in Seattle helpful?”

  “He confirmed Dr. Randolph's diagnosis. For the time being I’m on medication, but it may go beyond that. There are various options for treatment, of course. Surgery, radiation, the implantation of radioactive seeds, chemotherapy. I can't say that I’m looking forward to any of them. I just hope the medication does the job and nothing else will be necessary. One blessing is that the cancer hasn't spread beyond the local area. Dr. Randolph caught it early.”

  “She's a fine doctor. I have every confidence in her.”

  “So do I, as well as in the specialist she sent me to. I just hope she doesn't hear that ridiculous rumor. Can you imagine what she’ll think? She’ll be horrified.”

  “I doubt she’ll be horrified,” Abby said. “But if you’re concerned, perhaps you should tell her about the rumor yourself. Then if she does hear it, it won't come as such a shock.”

  Hugo blinked, as if that straightforward approach hadn't occurred to him. Then he smiled and nodded. “You’re right, of course. That's exactly what I’ll do. You’re a smart woman, Abby. About people as well as birds and science. You see beneath the surface.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I should have confided in you from the very first. But sometimes men have this stubborn pride.” He lifted his big shoulders as if bemused by his own actions. “I should have known, given the way you’ve taken Mary's accident in stride and all you’ve done for her, that I could count on you.”

  “Is there anything I can do, Hugo?” She searched her mind for possibilities, knowing full well he wasn't apt to come up with something himself even though he’d now confided in her.

  “I can handle whatever needs to be done here at the conservatory and museum if you’re hospitalized or need recovery time,” she went on, “so you needn't worry about that. I can be with you at the hospital. I can provide transportation to and from the hospital, or around here, whatever you need. I’m not the world's greatest cook . . . Mary does most of the cooking at our house now . . . but I can come to your place and see that you don't go hungry.”

  “Thanks, Abby, I appreciate this more than you can know.”

  “Or if there's something else I haven't thought of ?”

  “Actually, at this point, I have no idea how things will work out or what kind of help, if any, I may need. For now it's just a matter of taking my medication and twiddling my thumbs until the experts decide what, if anything, comes next.”

  Not easy for a man of action like Hugo, Abby knew.

  “Just talking with you and not trying to carry it around by myself is a big help,” he added.

  “Are you in physical pain?” she asked with concern.

  “No. Physically I feel fine. But up here—” He tapped his temple. “Up here I don't do as well. I suppose some of it is that I keep remembering that prostate cancer was what ended my father's life.”

  “I’m sorry, Hugo. I didn't know that.”

  “And, looking back, although no one ever mentioned it at the time, I’m reasonably certain now that my grandfather also had prostate cancer.”

  No wonder he’d been so distracted and troubled. “I wish you’d told me,” she said softly.

  “I wish I had too. I’d have made things easier for myself.” His smile was rueful. “I’m afraid it took me a while even to take it to the Lord. Behaving like what some young people would no doubt call a stubborn old geezer.”

  Abby smiled. Hugo may have taken on a few years and he could be a bit stubborn, but he was a long way from geezerhood.

  “From what I’ve heard, the cure rate for prostate cancer is now quite high when it's caught early. Treatment is much more advanced than it was back when your father and grandfather died.”

  “I’m counting on that.”

  “And prayer never hurts.”

  “I’m counting on that too.” He stood up, looked at the twisted paper clip in his hand as if he didn't know where it had come from and tossed it at the waste basket. He headed for the door, then stopped and turned, a mischievous twinkle in his usually dignified blue eyes. “Actually, I’m quite flattered that you thought there even could be a romance between the beautiful young doctor and me.”

  “I won't comment because you might get a swelled head,” Abby teased.

  Hugo laughed again and turned back to the door, head shaking back and forth, although she didn't know if that was bemusement at the rumors or at what she’d just said.

  ABBY TRIED TO CALL the Durangers on both Tuesday and Wednesday evenings. Again no response. No news from Henry, either. Nothing from Gordon Siebert. Sometimes it felt as if the necklace had simply materialized out of thin air and somehow attached itself to her desk. One matter did get resolved, although it was unrelated to the necklace. Thursday morning Hugo stopped by her office.

  “I did what you suggested and mentioned that rumor to Dr. Randolph.”

  “Had she heard it?”

  “No, not yet anyway.”

  “What was her reaction? Was she upset?”

  “Not at all. She just laughed and said she was flattered that anyone might think that.”

  “That sounds like Dr. Randolph,” Abby said.

  “Well, flattered as I am by the rumor, if you hear it again, just stomp on it, okay? Really squash it.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  ABBY SETTLED INTO HER OFFICE and worked solidly throughout the morning. When she finally took a break and went out to see if the museum had any visitors today, she realized Ida Tolliver was at the front desk this afternoon. She was surprised. Ida usually peeked in to say hi when she arrived.

  “Hi, Ida. I didn't know you were here. I spotted you at Little Flock on Sunday but didn't get a chance to talk to you. Have you heard about a Claudia?”

  “Not so far.” Ida briskly walked over to straighten brochures and postcards on the rack, her back to Abby.

  The situation regarding Claudia and the necklace was certainly consistent, Abby thought with frustration.

  “Well, keep your ears open,” she said finally.

  “Something may turn up now that everyone knows,” Ida said.

  A definite tartness in Ida's tone made Abby look at her sharply. She realized that Ida was acting rather miffed. “Everyone knows what?”

  “About your desk. About the necklace. About the curse, and even I didn't know about that.” Hands on hips, Ida flashed her an accusing look.

  “Ida, what are you talking about?”

  “You warned me not to tell anyone about the necklace and I haven't said a word, not a single word to anyone. But you’ve been blabbing all over town about it! You could at least have told me about the curse.”

  The accusation about blabbing was such a gross inaccuracy that Abby was momentarily indignant. But a mental picture of herself running around town and “blabbing” to people on every street corner struck her as funny, and she laughed even as she tried to figure out what had prompted the accusation.

  “Can you be more specific about my blabbing?” Abby inquired. “‘Everyone’ is whom?”

  “Well, maybe I shouldn't have called it blabbing. You’re not a blabber. I’m sorry,” Ida apologized. She tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “It's just that everyone does seem to know. One of the other waitresses told me. She said the necklace even has a name. The Blue Moon.”

  “Actually, a blue diamond, not an entire necklace, is named that. But we haven't determined that the diamond in the necklace I found is definitely the Blue Moon. It's merely an interesting possibility.”

  “But if it is the Blue Moon, it has this curse on it right? People have died strangely. Whole towns have been wiped out.”

  “Ida Tolliver, do you actually believe such a thing is possible?” Abby demanded, hands on her hips.


  Ida slid a brochure back into its proper slot. “Well, no, I guess I don’t,” she said slowly, as if she was perhaps only now straightening this out in her head. “It's more like a superstition than a Christian belief, isn't it?”

  “It's definitely not Christian.”

  “I’ll point that out to Aaron.”

  Abby groaned. “Aaron knows about this too? You told him?”

  “I didn't tell him.” Ida sounded defensive. “He’d already heard it. I told you, everyone knows. And some people are scared.”

  “Scared? Of what?”

  “Julie, that's the friend who works with me at the café, had a copy of something that told all about a whole town where the diamond was kept for a while that burned down. Although I don't think that's going to keep her from calling you. She said her grandmother used to have a blue necklace, but no one knows what became of it and she thinks this one you found might be it. Julie's nice. She works double shifts sometimes, trying to pay off some medical bills from when she had an ear operation.”

  Abby felt leaden. Just what she’d feared. That the true owner's identity would get lost in a tangle of phony claims. People might be afraid of a curse, but the prospect of three million dollars tended to embolden even the apprehensive.

  She marched back to her office, looked up a number and dialed. Gordon Siebert's suave voice answered.

  “Siebert's Jewelry. May I help you?”

  “This is Abby Stanton. I’ve just heard there are all sorts of rumors and gossip flying around town about my having a valuable necklace with a curse on it in my possession and that the ownership on it is up for grabs.”

  There was a moment of startled silence and then Gordon said stiffly, and with an almost palpable hauteur, “And you think I am behind these rumors?”

  “As far as I know, you’re the only person outside Sergeant Cobb and Hugo Baron who originally knew about this.” A second thought reminded her that not even Sergeant Cobb knew about the supposed curse. “There are apparently even copies of that computer printout I gave you floating around.”

  “I assure you I haven't said a word, and the computer printout is still in my desk where I put it after you left. In fact I’ll check, just to prove it to you.”

  Silence, as he put her on hold. He returned a few moments later.

  “I have the computer printout you left with me right here in my hand. I haven’t, as yet, even had an opportunity to contact other jewelers concerning it.”

  “I see. And do you have a copy machine?”

  Another silence, one that seemed to hum with tension until Gordon said stiffly, but with considerably less hauteur, “I’ll have to get back to you on this.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE FIRST CALL CAME THE following evening. Abby, Mary and Henry were at the dining room table eating dinner and discussing what Abby had found on the Internet about the Blue Moon and its curse when the phone rang. Abby got up from the table to answer it.

  “Hi. Um, my name is Marcy Bailor?” The young voice sounded nervous and the name came out more question than statement. “Is this, uh, Mrs. Stanton?”

  “Yes, this is Dr. Stanton,” Abby said. “May I help you?”

  “The thing is, my boyfriend had a necklace he was going to give me and he . . . he worked for those people who lived out on Wayfarer Point Road? And he put the necklace in the desk there, just so it would be, you know, safe for a while, and then the man died, and Patrick didn't know what became of the desk or the necklace. And now I guess you’ve found it? It's really valuable. It belonged to his mother—” She broke off as a whispered voice said something behind her. “I mean, his grandmother. Anyway, I want to get it back.”

  The story was so obviously phony, so awkwardly contrived that Abby would have laughed if she hadn't been so startled by the audacity of it.

  “Are you Ida's friend from the café?”

  “No, I don't know anyone named Ida.” She paused. “But maybe I do and I just don't remember her name . . .” The woman sounded as if she were willing to jump in either direction to help her case.

  “I think you should talk to Sergeant Cobb from the sheriff's department about this. He happens to be right here. Hold on a minute please.”

  Abby carried the cordless phone into the dining room and handed it to Henry. “A young woman claims she owns the necklace,” she whispered.

  Henry took the phone. “Sergeant Cobb here, San Juan County Sheriff's Department.” He waited a minute, then pulled the phone away from his ear. “No one there.”

  The three exchanged glances. Mary laughed first. “Maybe she wasn't so eager to tell her story to the strong ear of the law,” she suggested.

  Abby laughed too. “Especially when she was having a hard time keeping her story straight.” She shook her head and related the details of what the woman had told her. “Did she really think I was just going to hand the necklace over to her?”

  Henry had laughed with them, but his tone turned unexpectedly somber when he said, “You may be surprised what we’ll run into with a three-million-dollar necklace involved. I’ve already warned you, Abby.” He targeted her with a pointed forefinger. “But I think you both need to be careful.”

  “Surely you don't think there's anything to that curse nonsense,” Abby protested.

  “No, of course not. But I think there are way too many greedy people in this world who may do more than make phone calls. Again, you both need to be careful.”

  “But why me?” Mary sounded surprised and a bit miffed. “What's any of this got to do with me?”

  “With that much money at stake, who knows how the mind of someone who wants that necklace may work?” Henry said, still somber. “And Abby, if you get any more calls when I’m not around, just refer them to me at the station.”

  THE NEXT CALL CAME Sunday afternoon, a few minutes after Abby returned from an invigorating hike on the trail around Cedar Grove Lake. Mary and Henry had taken the ferry over to visit friends of his on Lopez. Mary hadn't taken Finnegan along today, and Abby had just turned him outside for his daily playtime.

  The call started out much as the other one had, although the young woman didn't sound quite so nervous.

  “You don't know me,” she began, “but my name is Julie Richards. I work with Ida at the Springhouse Café and I heard you found a necklace in an old desk.”

  “Yes, Ida mentioned that you might call.”

  “I think it may be a necklace that belonged to my grandmother. It disappeared here on the island years ago.”

  “If you want to make a claim for the necklace, you’ll have to go through the sheriff's department. They’re handling it.”

  “The sheriff's department?” The woman sounded taken back by the fact that there would be legal formalities involved, but she agreed readily enough. “Oh well, okay. I can do that.”

  Curiosity made Abby ask, “Do you have any idea how your grandmother's necklace could have gotten into the desk?”

  “No. I don’t. No idea at all. It's puzzling.”

  Abby appreciated the fact that the woman wasn't making up some outlandish story to explain the necklace's being in the desk. She had the impression that this woman, unlike the earlier one, actually believed the found necklace might be her grand-mother’s. “Could you describe your grandmother's necklace?”

  “Yes, I can! I called my mother over in Redmond and asked her. She remembers Grandma wearing it when they lived here on the island. It had a gold chain, not a fine chain, but one with big, chunky links. Mom said the links had an almost sharp feeling. And the blue stone was big, really big, with a bunch of smaller blue stones around it.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that description doesn't match the necklace I found at all.” Nor did it match the photo of the necklace in the old setting that Abby had seen on the Internet. Abby found herself oddly disappointed. Wouldn't it have been nice if the valuable necklace really had belonged to this hardworking and apparently sincere young woman?

&nb
sp; “Oh well, okay then. I guess I won't bother talking to the sheriff's department. Thanks.” The woman unexpectedly laughed. “I guess in a way I’m kind of relieved. I know the necklace you found is supposed to have some big unlucky curse on it, and I have enough troubles without that.”

  AT THE MUSEUM the following morning, a Claudia actually showed up. She was tall and slim, black pants and spike heels accentuating her height. An abundance of red hair floated around her narrow face. Gold hoop earrings flashed at her ears. The woman tossed a driver's license on Abby's desk. “I’m Claudia Seaver. I understand you have a necklace that belongs to me.”

  Abby picked up the Oregon license, which gave the name Claudia Seaver with an address in Portland, Oregon. The photo matched the face of the woman standing in front of her desk. If Hugo were in the office today, she’d call down to his office and ask him to sit in on this, but he’d had to make another trip to Seattle for more tests.

  “This is my husband, Winston,” the woman went on in an imperious tone. She gestured toward the big, beefy man in a suede jacket beside her. If this woman had a scepter, she’d be waving it, Abby thought. “We’re staying at the Rosario resort over on Orcas Island for a couple of weeks and we heard about the necklace.”

  “You heard about the necklace over on Orcas?” Abby repeated, astonished. Before Abby could get in another word, the woman launched into her version of the necklace's history.

  “My ex-husband and I never actually lived here on Sparrow Island, but we vacationed here several times. Our marriage had been in trouble for some time, and the last time we were here, it came to a breaking point and we split up.” She tugged lightly on one of the gold hoop earrings.

  Since Claudia had obviously already acquired a new husband, Abby didn't know whether to express sympathy about the breakup with the former husband or not. She discreetly murmured a noncommittal, “I see.”

  “I had an old necklace that my grandmother had given me before she died a long time ago. I’d assumed the big stone in it was really just a chunk of blue glass and never thought of the necklace as having anything other than sentimental value. Anyway, I couldn't find the necklace in my luggage when I got home, and I realized Jack must have taken it with him when he walked out. We were staying at The Dorset,” she added.