The Blue Moon

by Lorena McCourtney

  “Would you like coffee and croissants?” Claudia smiled. “If you don't mind leftovers. I made more than enough for the weekend guests.”

  Henry declined the refreshments, so Abby did, too, although she rather regretted turning down homemade croissants.

  “The reason we’re here, as I told you on the phone,” Henry began, “is because the sheriff ‘s department is in custody of an item we believe belonged to your father and was intended as a gift for you. I’ll let Abby explain what it is and how she found it.”

  Abby did that, and also brought out the computer printouts she’d downloaded from the Internet. “We’ve recently established that the diamond is in fact the Blue Moon.”

  Claudia studied the printouts carefully. Abby saw her eyebrows lift when she reached the section about the curse.

  “This appears to be a very valuable necklace,” she finally commented. She did not sound overjoyed about it nor did she jump in with eager questions.

  “The photo doesn't show the necklace as it is now. The blue diamond has been put into a more modern setting. A rough estimate of its current value is at least three million dollars,” Henry said.

  “It's also an incredibly beautiful necklace now,” Abby said. “Quite breathtaking, actually.”

  Claudia looked more troubled than excited. “And you think this has something to do with me?”

  “A number of people have tried to claim the necklace, but our investigation has led us to believe it was intended as a gift for you from your father,” Henry said.

  Abby explained about the roundabout trail that they’d traced from the desk in her office to the Washingtons and then to Nelson Van Horn.

  “Although this isn't definitive proof that the necklace was his and that he actually hid it in the desk,” Henry warned. “Some definite proof will be required before we can turn the necklace over to you. We’re hoping there may have been a receipt or something among your father's things.”

  “No. Nothing. I have no proof,” Claudia said flatly. “After his death, I received the emerald ring my father always wore, but I don't know anything about a necklace. And I’m sure if the lawyer handling the estate had seen anything concerning it in my father's papers, he’d have said something.”

  “Your father never mentioned the necklace to you?” Abby asked.

  Claudia shook her head. “I know he had something special in mind for my birthday. We were planning to get together on Sparrow Island to celebrate it.” Claudia's expression went mistily reminiscent. “It was my thirty-ninth birthday, and Dad said it was time for something big before I turned forty. My marriage had ended a few months before. Greg was an . . . unfortunate choice in husbands, but I was pretty broken up over the divorce anyway. After Dad's death, I assumed the gift was supposed to have been that cabin cruiser he was looking at on Sparrow Island. We’d done a lot of boating together when I was a young girl.”

  After giving Claudia time to lose herself in memories for a few moments, Abby ventured to say, “You don't seem eager to claim the necklace.”

  Claudia's smile was quick, but she nervously fingered the plain gold chain at her neck. “I’m not sure how much to tell you.”

  “About your father?” Abby asked.

  Claudia didn't answer the question. Instead she asked, “How did you connect me with my father since my name isn't Van Horn?”

  “Two men who are in custody for trying to obtain the necklace illegally have both mentioned your father,” Henry explained. “They seemed to think they had some claim on the necklace because of a connection with him. One of the men is Gregory Wakefield, although it was the other man, Jules Gamino, who actually mentioned you as being Van Horn's daughter. Wakefield himself declined to furnish even his own name, and we had to trace it through fingerprints.”

  Claudia's smile was wan. “Which I’m sure were on file, given some of Greg's past activities.”

  “He's in bigger trouble now,” Henry said.

  “Did Greg do that to you?” Claudia asked in dismay as she looked at the cast on Abby's arm.

  “Not directly. Actually, I hurt it in a fall.”

  “A fall she wouldn't have taken if it weren't for Wakefield,” Henry put in.

  Claudia reached over and squeezed Abby's hand. “I’m so sorry.” Then she nodded as if the pieces of a puzzle had just fallen into place. “So this is what Greg was yelling about.”

  “Yelling about?” Abby repeated.

  “Greg came here not long after the hang gliding accident, ranting that my father had cheated him and he wanted what was rightfully his. It was something about a necklace, but I had no idea what that meant at the time. I just asked him to leave.”

  “Did you tell him you didn't know anything about a necklace?” Henry asked.

  “Oh yes. About ten times. But he seemed convinced that I was lying. I don't know why he’d think that, except that Greg's a liar, so he assumes everyone else is too. And he has a terrible temper. Plus an attitude that he's entitled, that whatever he wants, he's entitled to have. When he left I decided if he ever came back I was going to get a restraining order against him. But I haven't seen him again, thankfully. I guess he decided I really didn't know anything about a necklace.”

  “Wakefield claimed to Abby that he helped your father acquire the necklace,” Henry said. “Do you think that's true?”

  “It could be.” Claudia looked down at her hands, and Abby saw that the nails were clipped short, no polish. She guessed Claudia did much of the work on the beautiful yard herself, not because she couldn't afford to hire help but because she liked working with the soil and growing things.

  “Did he work for your father?”

  “Off and on. They didn't like each other, but sometimes they had business dealings together—although I don't know what those dealings were.”

  Abby and Henry exchanged a glance. Claudia wasn't being secretive by any means, but it was obvious she’d rather not discuss her father. Abby wasn't certain knowing more about Nelson Van Horn was important, except for one point. Quietly she asked, “Do you think your father obtained the necklace by legitimate means?”

  “I loved my father,” Claudia said almost fiercely. “He raised me alone after my mother died when I was twelve. He was always so good to me. He always went to parent/teacher conferences and came to my school functions and took me to buy clothes.”

  “He sounds like a very caring father.”

  “He was.” She smiled ruefully. “He also knew more about people than I did. I should have listened to him when he told me Greg would cause me heartache. But when I insisted I would marry Greg, even if we had to run off to Reno, he threw a huge, fantastic wedding for us. We lifted off in a helicopter at the end of the reception. And had a honeymoon in Rio de Janeiro.”

  Exactly the kind of man who’d give his daughter a three-million-dollar necklace for her thirty-ninth birthday, Abby thought.

  “When we got back, he’d bought this place for us.” Her gesture took in the house and grounds. “Greg tried to grab it when we divorced, but my father had a lawyer who wasn't about to let that happen.”

  “But?” Abby asked, because there was obviously a but attached to all these good things Claudia had to say about her father.

  “But there were many things I didn't know about my father. There were things I did know, of course. About his various successful businesses, and how he often bought and sold real estate, usually very profitably. But there were other things I . . . I wondered about.”

  “Things not quite on the up-and-up?”

  “I was afraid that was the case, yes,” Claudia said. “And to get back to your earlier question, no, I don't know whether he acquired the necklace through legitimate channels. And if Greg was involved . . .” She shook her head.

  Abby jumped to a different subject. “Your father enjoyed hang gliding?”

  “My father enjoyed anything that was exciting and dangerous and death-defying. He’d only recently taken up hang gliding, but he’d
done everything else, from sky-diving and bungee jumping to rock climbing and scuba diving. Once he hired a helicopter to take him and a friend way back in some Canadian mountains so they could ski out. When he heard about some huge storm surf in Hawaii, he rushed over there to surf it. He just loved taking chances.” She spoke with affection, but also a kind of bewilderment, as if this attraction for the dangerous was beyond her understanding.

  “I begged him not to do some of the things he did, but he’d just laugh and tell me I worried too much. He was such a stubborn man. You might even say bullheaded.” She sighed, as if this had long been a trial to her. Then she smiled ruefully again. “Like father, like daughter, I suppose, considering my stubbornness about marrying Greg when Dad advised me not to.”

  “Your father never got hurt doing any of this?”

  “Never. Which I suppose made him believe he was invincible.” She swallowed. “And he wasn’t.”

  “None of us is,” Abby said softly.

  They sat there in silence for a minute until Henry asked gently, “Do you want to make a claim for the necklace?”

  “I’ll have to think about it. If it wasn't acquired legitimately…”

  “If it wasn't acquired legitimately, then we can't release it to you.”

  “Then perhaps we should just wait and see.”

  “Very well, then,” Henry said. “If you come across anything, you let us know. And we’ll do the same.”

  Just as they were going out the door, Abby thought of one more thing.

  “I have a few things your father had left in the guest room when he was staying with the Washingtons. I didn't see anything important, but I’ll be glad to send them over, if you’d like.”

  “I’d appreciate that. Thank you.”

  “WHAT DO YOU THINK NOW?” Henry asked reflectively as they waited in the short line at the ferry slip.

  “I think Claudia Van Horn Wakefield is a woman with a great deal of class.” Abby realized now that Claudia had never asked about the curse. Apparently she had no belief in such matters. Abby approved of that too. “I wish she’d had something to prove she was entitled to the necklace. I’d like to see her have it.”

  “So would I,” Henry said.

  EVEN THOUGH ABBY hadn't been present when Gordon Siebert examined the blue diamond, she made a point of stopping by his store to hear how he had made the verification.

  Gordon welcomed her inside. “So I guess you heard that it is the Blue Moon.” He motioned her toward his office, where he showed her the diagrams he’d made of the interior of the gem in the necklace. He placed them side by side with the drawings he’d received from the expert in Chicago.

  “Of course these show the flaws much enlarged,” he pointed out. “The actual flaws can't be seen without a microscope, and they detract nothing from the gem's beauty or value.”

  Abby knew she was no expert, but the enlarged diagrams indeed looked identical to her. The feathery designs even had a beauty of their own. She smiled to herself at the thought: Even in flaws, the Lord created beauty.

  “I’ve been waiting to call Dr. Kingston and tell him,” Gordon said.

  “Yes, do that.”

  “Have you made any progress locating the owner?”

  “We’re reasonably certain we know who's entitled to the necklace, but coming up with enough proof of ownership to allow the sheriff ‘s department to release it to her is something else.”

  “Personally, I’d like to see it in a museum somewhere.” Gordon smiled ruefully. “But I imagine anyone who can prove ownership is going to want it for herself. I’m sure it's worth even more than my earlier estimate now that it's been positively identified as the Blue Moon.”

  “I’m glad we had your expertise available on this.”

  “I just wish some expert could convince some of the people around here that there's nothing to that ridiculous curse.”

  “You’ve been hearing more rumors?”

  “I had to go into the drugstore a couple of days ago, and Ed Willoughby commented how he’d been hearing people say that it couldn't be coincidence that so many bad things had happened to people who’d been connected with the necklace. Donna Morgan from Bayside Souvenirs happened to be there, too, and she was wondering if Van Horn had acquired the necklace because some tragedy had happened to the previous owner.”

  “That's troubling,” Abby agreed.

  “Oh, I haven't seen it yet, but I also heard the new issue of The Birdcall has an article about you and the necklace and the incident at the bank in it.”

  Abby could only hope that would quiet the islanders’ concerns, not alarm them further.

  LATE THAT SAME AFTERNOON, Hugo took the ferry to Seattle. His surgery was scheduled for the following morning. Again he said, “No visitors.” But when Abby asked before he left if that also meant no phone calls, he relented. “Well, okay. But not before the day after the surgery. I don't want my head gummed up with pain pills.”

  Abby stopped at The Green Grocer to pick up a copy of The Birdcall on her way home. She eyed the headline on the front page when she paid for the newspaper at the checkout stand: “Famous Diamond Discovered on Sparrow Island.”

  The clerk looked at the headline too. “I don't think there's any point taking chances having that thing around. I mean if it could give a guy a heart attack and bring a hang glider down right out of the sky, no telling what it could do if it really went on a rampage.”

  “Is that what the article says?” Abby asked, startled, because she hadn't thought William Jansen would write anything so inflammatory.

  “Oh no. It doesn't say that. That's just what people are saying.”

  Abby was relieved to hear that William Jansen had lived up to her confidence in him. “The necklace didn't do any of those things,” she said firmly. “It isn't a live, thinking thing. It can't go on a ‘rampage.’”

  “Well, strange things happen,” the clerk said, obviously unconvinced.

  ABBY READ THE ARTICLE in the car, under the parking lot lights. It was well done and quite comprehensive, covering everything from Abby's finding of the necklace to the efforts of people who had tried to claim it, the dognapping, the attack in the bank and the connection with Nelson Van Horn and his hang gliding disaster.

  Abby had to groan when she saw the photo of herself and Hugo, however. It looked way too much like a man carrying a bride across the threshold. But the photo was, thankfully, buried among a half dozen others, including one of banker Steven Jarvis, which she doubted pleased him any more than hers pleased her. The light had hit his shaved head in just such a way that it had the pale gleam of an under-ripe melon.

  Mary's only comment when she saw the photo was, “At least he didn't call you Slugger.”

  Be grateful for small favors, Abby reminded herself.

  EVEN THOUGH THE ARTICLE made no mention of the curse in any way, the rumors continued to circulate.

  Ida mentioned the very next day that she was hearing conversations at the Springhouse about how so many people connected with the diamond had suffered calamities. Later in the day, when Abby went in for a checkup on her arm at the clinic, she heard people in the waiting room discussing the same subject. Several comments were prefaced with some version of, “I don't really believe that stuff about a curse, but—”

  Something needed to be done to get people out of this superstitious sinkhole, Abby thought in exasperation. But what? She could hardly stand on a street corner and shout that believing any of this nonsense was totally ridiculous.

  That evening she called the hospital and talked with Hugo. The conversation was brief because he was still on pain pills that were making him a little groggy. “But not groggy enough to know I’d rather be home than here,” he added with his usual good humor. His further statement that the surgery had gone fine sounded optimistic, but guardedly so, as if he didn't want to claim success prematurely.

  Afterward, Abby remembered that she wanted to send the pamphlets and miscellaneous receipt
s Liberty Washington had sent her on to Claudia Wakefield. She glanced through them once more as she was putting them into a fresh envelope to mail.

  She stopped short, receipt in hand, when she spotted something she hadn't seen before.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  PROBABLY NOTHING, SHE decided, and stuck the receipt in the envelope. But the following morning she hesitated before adding the envelope to the museum's stack of outgoing mail.

  It was just a name, Pragmire, and a phone number scribbled on the back of one of the receipts. Calling it would probably be as useless as calling the boat dealer named on one of the pamphlets had been. Surely Van Horn wouldn't have scribbled anything important on the back of a receipt from Wal-Mart, would he? And yet Van Horn was a strange and mysterious man…

  And what did she have to lose by calling? Other than having someone think she was a little weird, of course! She was surprised when a brisk feminine voice answered with the name of an insurance company.

  “Is there a Mr. Pragmire in this office?”

  “Actually it's Ms. Pragmire. I’ll connect you.”

  A moment later a friendly, slightly older sounding voice came on the line. “Genevieve Pragmire speaking. May I help you?”

  Feeling more than a little awkward, Abby identified herself and then said she was trying to locate information about a man named Nelson Van Horn who may have been a client of the agency. A thought occurred to her. “Do you handle boat insurance?” Perhaps Van Horn had been investigating the boat he was about to buy.

  The voice cooled. “We’re a specialized company often dealing with Lloyd's of London. The only boat insurance we’d handle would be something covering a high-value yacht. But we don't give out confidential information about our clients.”

  “I realize that. But it's a peculiar situation.” Trying to simplify it as much as possible, Abby explained about finding the necklace, Van Horn's death, and finding Ms. Pragmire's name and phone number among some things left behind by Van Horn.