Abby nodded. “At first I thought it was that Jules Gamino who called before, but now I think it may have been someone new.” She repeated to Mary what the man had said. “I’ll be so glad when the real owner turns up. I think I’ve had more phone calls in the last couple of weeks than in all the time since I returned to Sparrow Island.”
“You’re a popular lady, Abby Stanton.”
Abby smiled ruefully. “All it takes is a three-million-dollar necklace, and then you’re Miss Popularity.”
“Are you going up to bed now?”
“No, I seem to be wide awake. I think I’ll get on the Internet and surf for a while.”
Mary yawned. “Okay. See you in the morning then. How does French toast sound?”
“Great!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ABBY SURFED THROUGH several Web sites on blue diamonds that she’d visited before, along with some new ones. One site she hadn't seen before was a “Where are they now?” site devoted to various high-profile gems with locations presently unknown. The Blue Moon was mentioned along with a comment she hadn't seen elsewhere, that this gem was supposed to have two small but distinctive flaws that could be used to identify it.
Gordon Siebert had mentioned a couple of small flaws. A tingle of excitement skittered up Abby's spine. Could this definitively determine whether the stone was the Blue Moon? The site invited anyone with information on any of the gems to contact the Web site. Abby clicked on the e-mail address and was about to write a message when wariness kicked in.
There were so many scams on the Internet. Was this Dr. Emmett Kingston legitimate? Or was he some kind of con man trying to get information about valuable gems for ulterior and not necessarily ethical purposes? He listed a professorship and two books he’d written. She looked on a book-buying Web site and found the books did exist. She might also be able to check Kingston's credentials with the university he claimed to work for. But she was still hesitant about e-mailing a stranger with information about a blue diamond that, whether or not it was the Blue Moon, was extremely valuable and already had various imposters trying to claim it.
Another thought jumped in on the heels of Abby's concerns about Dr. Emmett Kingston, and with it a tide of dismay. Yes, she’d encountered some unscrupulous claimants for the necklace, but she didn't want to become a person who suspected everyone she encountered of dishonesty and underhanded schemes. This case was making her lose her faith in her fellow humans and she couldn't allow that to happen.
Reluctantly she decided she’d have to think about this. She printed out the additional information from the Web site and turned off her laptop without writing the e-mail. Maybe she’d try to contact the university later.
By morning she had come up with a different approach.
It was Saturday and she didn't have to go in to the museum, but after breakfast she drove into Green Harbor. She parked a couple of doors down from Siebert's Jewelry. A heavy fog had settled over the island, but Abby found it invigorating rather than depressing.
Gordon Siebert was alone when she went inside, looking as suave as ever in a dark suit and burgundy tie. A discreet sign posted near the register said “Experienced sales help wanted.”
Abby came directly to the point. “I know our last meeting was rather awkward, and perhaps you’d rather not have any further involvement with me or the necklace, but—”
Gordon made the little movement of his upper body that wasn't quite a bow, but almost. “On the contrary, if I can do anything to help stop all the wild rumors going around, I’d be delighted to do so. To hear some people tell it, the diamond's very presence means Sparrow Island is in danger of anything from sinking like Atlantis to suffering a biblical plague.” He rolled his eyes.
“I’m sure no such calamities are going to happen, but we do seem to be getting an invasion of people making wild claims to ownership of the necklace,” Abby said ruefully. “The reason I’m here today is because of something else I found on the Internet.”
She spread the new computer printout on the counter. Gordon picked up the pages and studied them with interest.
“I’d like to contact this man, this Dr. Emmett Kingston, and see what he could tell us about identifying the Blue Moon, but I’m reluctant to do so without knowing if he's legitimate. I thought you might know or could find out. He's located in Chicago.”
“I can't vouch for the absolute integrity of anyone but myself,” Gordon Siebert said with a touch of pomposity, “but I can certainly find out if he's considered reputable. Kingston …Dr. Emmett Kingston,” Gordon repeated. “Hmmm. Actually, the name sounds vaguely familiar, but I can't think in what context.”
“Hopefully not as some famous jewel thief.”
Gordon smiled. “I don't think so, but I have contacts in Chicago. I’ll check him out.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
ABBY DIDN’T EXPECT TO HEAR from Gordon Siebert for several days, but he wasn't a man to waste time. He called her at home that very afternoon. She was outside raking leaves when Mary came to the sliding glass doors and held the phone out to her.
Abby leaned her rake against the deck and went up the sloping ramp to take the phone.
Gordon Siebert identified himself and then said, “I thought the Kingston name sounded vaguely familiar and I’m embarrassed that I didn't fully recognize it immediately. Dr. Kingston is with the University of Chicago, a professor of geology with a side interest in gems. He's very well known and considered quite an authority. I talked with a couple of people who vouched for him. He's now in the process of gathering material for a new book on the mysteries surrounding various lost gems.”
“I’m glad to hear he's reputable. I’ll e-mail him tonight at the address on the Web site.”
“If it would be of any help to you, I can contact him. I’d really like to do something to help make up for that unfortunate breach of confidentiality.” The hint of pomposity had now turned into what sounded like honest regret. “He also sounds like a most interesting man to get to know. But if you’d rather contact him yourself—”
“Actually, I’d appreciate it very much if you would contact him. You can certainly talk more knowledgeably with him about gems and flaws than I can.”
“I’ll do it, then.”
THAT EVENING there was another phone call. Henry had come for dinner. They’d had salmon stored in the freezer, a product of one of Henry's successful fishing trips, and Mary had baked it with butter and garlic. He’d brought along a DVD to watch afterward. It was an unexpectedly charming comedy, and afterward they were eating Mary's delicious cherry cobbler in the kitchen and discussing how Hollywood really could make something clean and fun if they wanted to. Abby answered the phone and carried it across the room so as not to interrupt Henry and Mary's conversation.
“Hello?”
“Is this Abby Stanton?”
Abby braced herself for another necklace story, but then she realized that she recognized the woman's soft voice. “Liberty?”
“Yes!” The woman sounded pleased. “You didn't leave your number, but I got it from Information. I hope you don't mind?”
“No, of course not. I’m happy to hear from you.”
“And I hope I’m not calling too late?”
“Oh no. My sister and a friend and I were just enjoying a snack.”
“Well, the thing is, I remembered something.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You remember I told you we had that desk in the guest room? Well, we had lots of guests, of course. When you have an island place, suddenly you seem to have all sorts of friends you never had before.”
“I’ve heard that.” She’d had some hints herself from friends and acquaintances at Cornell about how they might like to visit the islands, although those were all welcome hints from people she’d love to see again.
“Anyway, I don't know why I didn't think of it right off, but we had a guest who stayed in that room only a month or so before Norbert died. The very la
st guest we ever had, in fact. Not one of our usual friends. A most unusual guest, actually.”
“Unusual in what way?”
“I never met him personally. I was down visiting Matt and Debbie when he was at the house. We had a boat for sale, you see, a very nice thirty-seven-foot cabin cruiser. Norbert had been having heart problems for some time and we weren't using the boat anymore, so we decided to sell it. We hadn't actually gotten around to advertising it yet, but we’d told a few people, and this acquaintance of a friend of Norbert's heard about it and came over to see the boat.”
Abby made a small murmur of encouragement.
“He planned to stay at The Dorset, but when he tried to make a reservation, they were full that weekend. A wedding party or something. So Norbert told him to come anyway and stay at our house.”
“And you think he may have hidden the necklace in the desk in your guest room?” Abby asked doubtfully. Even more doubtfully adding to herself, A three-million-dollar necklace? And then just walked off and left it?
“I wouldn't think so except for a couple of things. The man's daughter was supposed to come over and meet him there on the island, and they were going to celebrate her birthday together.”
Abby's interest suddenly sparked. She paced along the end of the room. “And the daughter's name was Claudia?”
“I don't know what the daughter's name was, unfortunately,” Liberty admitted. “Actually, at the time, from the way the man talked, Norbert thought the man was thinking of buying the boat as a birthday present for her. Norbert and I talked on the phone every evening, of course, and he said the man wouldn't actually commit to buying until she came over and saw the boat. But maybe the real birthday present was a valuable necklace. Or maybe he intended to give her both a boat and a necklace. Norbert said he was a rather flamboyant type of person and apparently quite wealthy. He drove one of those enormous pickups, the kind with enough chrome on it to blind you, Norbert said. And he talked about traveling to all kinds of exotic places. Nairobi and the Seychelles and Corfu. I also remember Norbert saying that he wore an enormous emerald ring. Very flashy.”
A flamboyant person, with a flashy emerald ring. That fit. The blue diamond necklace was definitely the kind of thing a flamboyant person would choose. But a sticking point intruded just as the pieces of the puzzle seemed to fall into place.
“But surely he wouldn't hide the valuable necklace in the desk for his daughter and then never come back for it or never even contact you about it again.”
“He couldn’t,” Liberty said. “He was dead.”
“Dead? “ Abby repeated. Liberty, she realized, was not only chatty; she also had a flair for the dramatic in the way she’d led up to this.
“Dead,” Liberty repeated.
“You mean he died soon afterward? Or right there in your house?”
“Well, neither, exactly. He didn't die in the house, but he died while he was staying there at the house. He was interested in hang gliding, you see, and he’d brought his equipment along intending to use it on some other island after he left. There's some place on one of the islands where they do a lot of hang gliding, I guess. But then one day he and Norbert were driving around in his pickup, because he wanted to see the island. They drove up that mountain. I forget the name—”
“Mount Ortiz?”
“Yes, that's right. Ortiz. And he decided to go hang gliding from up there.”
“Right then, on the spur of the moment?”
“Yes! Right then. Norbert said he tried to talk the man out of it, saying he should talk to someone who’d done it from up there, someone who knew the wind currents. But he wouldn't listen.”
With a rush of recognition, Abby suddenly knew where this was going. She remembered Henry talking about the rash of unpleasant incidents that happened about the same time as the man dying of a heart attack. She didn't interrupt Liberty's telling of her story, however.
“So he did it. Norbert said the man got his equipment out of his pickup right then and rigged it up right there. You can see Wayfarer Point Road from up there.”
“Yes, I remember.” When she was a girl it had been a strenuous climb up Mount Ortiz, but now there was a good road almost to the top of the mountain. From the parking area a trail went on up to the very peak, where a scenic-view platform had also been built.
“He intended to land on the road. Norbert was supposed to drive the pickup around and meet him there. He climbed over the guard rail and then he just started running! That's how they take off, you know. Norbert said he ran right off the edge of the mountain. He said he couldn't believe it, that his own stomach did a big flip-flop when the man did it.”
“Was this man an experienced hang glider?”
“I have no idea. But he did have all the equipment. Norbert said the hang glider was gorgeous, with brilliant red and yellow stripes.”
Flashy, Abby thought. The way this man liked things.
“I don't know what they’re made of,” Liberty went on. “Nylon or something like that, I guess, with a metal framework for the pilot or whatever he's called. Norbert said he looked fantastic floating out there for a few minutes, like a big butterfly. He said he was even thinking maybe he ought to learn to do it himself. And then the man seemed to be having some kind of problem, and the front part of the hang glider tipped way up.”
Abby knew that the way a hang glider landed was to stall it slightly by tipping the nose of the glider upward. But if the pilot did it at the wrong time, or a wind draft caught and raised the nose too much, the craft could be in trouble.
“And then it just plummeted, Norbert said, like a big fist had grabbed it and dragged it down. It hit the tops of some trees first, but then a gust of wind jerked it away and it crashed in an open space, right on some rocks. Norbert called on his cell phone for help, but there was no road where the hang glider crashed and it took the deputies and medical people quite a while to get to him. I got home that evening, so I heard all this secondhand, but Norbert was really shaken up, having actually seen it all.”
“Yes, it must have been a terrible shock for him. Do you remember the man's name?”
“Oh yes. Van Horn. Nelson Van Horn. I remember thinking it a rather elegant sounding name.”
Van Horn! The same name mentioned by the man on the phone!
“Do you know anything more about him? Where he was from? What he did for a living? What he looked like? How we might locate his daughter?”
“Nothing at all, I’m afraid. As I said, I never met him personally. I have no idea what he looked like. But, as I said, I think he must have been quite wealthy. He was going to pay cash for the boat.”
Quite wealthy indeed, if he was going to give his daughter an expensive boat and/or a three-million-dollar necklace for her birthday.
“Except there was one other thing. I hate to mention it, because the man is dead and all . . .”
Abby remained silent. It sounded as if Liberty had something negative to say about the man. She didn't want to encourage the woman to make a derogatory comment, but neither did she want to stop her from offering information that might be helpful.
“Norbert thought there might be something kind of shady about Van Horn. You asked what he did for a living and I recall Norbert wondering too. Van Horn just seemed to be rich, you know, without any specific source of income. And when I say he was going to pay cash for the boat, that's what I mean, actual cash dollars. Norbert was rather taken aback by that. Banks tend to ask questions if you come in with a lot of cash, he said. But I guess he intended to do it. We really needed to get rid of the boat because Norbert tended to work too hard trying to keep it clean and polished up, which he shouldn't have been doing, with his heart trouble and all.”
People inherit money, Abby thought. Or they make good investments and become wealthy. A source of income didn't have to be obvious to be legitimate. Although cash dollars tended to suggest Van Horn had some less upstanding source of income. “What became of the boat?”<
br />
“I sold it after Norbert died. For a lot less money than Van Horn would have paid,” she added wryly. “Anyway, I hope this may be of some help to you in locating the owner of the necklace.”
“Oh, one more thing. When I remembered Van Horn, I got to thinking that, after the accident, I’d boxed up his things that were still in the guest room. We thought perhaps the daughter would want them, but she never showed up. We didn't know how to contact her or even what her name was. Perhaps we should have tried harder, but none of it looked particularly important anyway. There were just some clothes and shaving gear, plus pamphlets about boats and the islands that he’d left scattered on the desk. Although I see now that there are a few old receipts here too. They’re all crumpled, as if he’d just emptied them out of his pockets. And here's a catalog of hang gliding equipment. After Norbert had his heart attack, none of this seemed important.”
She sounded suddenly pensive, and Abby said sympathetically, “I can understand that.”
“I hadn't thought of it again until you called and started me thinking.”
Then Abby realized an important fact tucked into Liberty's chatter. Her pulse quickened. “You still have these items, the pamphlets and receipts?”
“I’m as surprised as you are but, yes, I do. I don't know where the clothes and shaving gear went. I probably donated them along with Norbert's clothes when I moved. But Norbert was very conscientious and efficient, and he’d put the pamphlets and things in a manila folder in our filing cabinet, so they got moved with me. And there they were when I looked this afternoon, in a file actually labeled ‘Van Horn.’ I can't think that anything here would be of any help, but I’ll be happy to mail it all up to you if you’d like.”
“I’d be most happy if you would.” Abby gave her a mailing address. She could hardly hope there was a receipt for a blue diamond necklace among the items, but who knew? There might be something.
“I’ll get it in the mail to you on Monday, then.”
“Thank you very much, Mrs. Washington.”
The Blue Moon Page 15
