Chapter 4
I glanced at the note in my hand and said a silent prayer as I put the key in the Jeep’s ignition. Please God, let him be okay. Renee’s hen-scratched message read that Charlie had been ambulanced to Cedars-Sinai with a broken wrist. I exhaled. I could live with that. I told myself as I whizzed between traffic up La Cienega toward the hospital that boys and broken bones are part of the program. Something to be expected. Especially when the boy in question is an overly ambitious teenager with his heart set on being an NFL quarterback. I think parents of young athletes know the risks. I tried to envision the circumstances as I arrived to find Charlie in the emergency room, his arm and wrist in a sling elevated above his head.
“Charlie?”
“Hey, Mom.” He smiled uneasily.
“You okay?” I went to the side of the bed, kissed the top of his head, and tousled his sandy blonde hair. “You gave me quite a scare.”
“The coach says I’m out for the season.” He looked like an overgrown puppy, his eyes sad, pleading for me to say it wasn’t so.
“Have they taken X-rays?”
“No, but the doc says it’s busted. Two places.”
Charlie explained that he and Clint, Sheri’s son, had been horsing around between classes, tossing a book instead of a football over the heads of their classmates. Clint made a flying pass with their Modern History book, a book I seriously doubted either of them had ever cracked, and Charlie jumped for it, slipped, and fell. He tried to break his fall with his hand and ended up snapping the ulna in his right arm. Ouch. Even hanging upwards in the sling it looked red and swollen. I could tell he was in a lot of pain but trying hard not to let on.
I suggested we not get too excited about football until we’d talked to the doctor, then reached into my bag and pulled out a small chocolate toffee from Edelweiss Chocolates, a mood enhancer for sure. Together we were enjoying the last of my candy stash when the doctor walked in. He apologized for the delay and explained they’d be taking Charlie down to X-ray and I should wait.
I returned to the waiting room, about to call Tyler and give him an update on Charlie when I remembered Churchill. He had to be in the same hospital. It was close to Beverly Hills, and since I was waiting around anyway, there was no harm in asking. If his condition wasn’t serious, I just might get lucky and we could finish our interview. After all, if Mimi was right and a lot of Hollywood stars’ jewelry had been stolen, it would be nice to have the inside scoop in time for my report on Kari’s show. Plus, it made the uncertainty of sitting around and waiting for Charlie to return all the more bearable.
I went back to the lobby and approached the administrative desk. An older woman with a pleasant face and half-framed glasses sat behind the counter.
“Excuse me. I was hoping I could get a status report on Mr. Churchill. He was brought to the ER this morning.”
She eyed me over the top of her half frames with suspicion. “I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t give you a status report. You know that.”
I leaned across the counter and whispered, “I’m his niece.” I lied. I hoped she wouldn’t recognize my faceless voice from the radio. “They called me from the ER. I rushed over as soon as I heard.”
“His niece, huh?” Her eyebrows arched as she appraised me like she might a felon.
“I was hoping maybe you could tell me if he’s been admitted.”
She looked back at her computer monitor. “Mr. Edmond Churchill, age seventy-six?”
“That’s him.” I nodded nervously.
“He’s in the south tower, fourth floor, room forty-eleven. Be sure to tell the charge nurse when you arrive.”
On the fourth floor, I found the nursing station and asked if Mr. Churchill was allowed to have visitors. The nurse checked the roster, glanced up at me, and pointed towards the end of the hall.
“First door on the left. Visiting hours until nine p.m.”
I took that to mean Mr. Churchill was not dying or in dire circumstances. I paused outside his door, peered into the room, and was surprised to see him sitting up in bed watching TV. He was dressed in a blue hospital gown and had on a small nasal oxygen tube. An IV and monitors were hooked up, blinking lights sending their readings back to the nurses’ station.
“Mr. Churchill.” I approached the foot of his bed and waited for him to acknowledge me. “I’m Carol Childs, from the radio station. We met this morning, after the—”
“The bombing. Yes, I remember.” He adjusted his glasses, then smoothed the sheets about his slim body in an effort to make himself more presentable and patted the bed. “Please, come sit.”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.” I held my reporter’s bag against my chest and stood rigid.
“I’m sorry to have frightened you. We were talking when I felt the palpitations. I get them from time to time. Bad ticker.” He tapped his chest with his hand and smiled. “I suppose it goes with getting older. Hasn’t killed me yet, but I’m here for observation, nothing more. What is it I can do for you?”
“I was hoping we might chat. I have some more questions about this morning, if you’re able.”
“I’m afraid my memory’s a bit sketchy.” He ran his long bony fingers through his thinning hair. “The explosion was quite unsettling, and the medication they gave me doesn’t help.”
“I wanted to ask you about Carmen Montague. You mentioned she was in the store before the explosion.”
“Ah, Miss Montague. Yes. I’m afraid that’s a bit of a thorny issue, miss. I shouldn’t have mentioned her at all. You’ll have to forgive me. I’m sure you understand. Our clients, their jewelry in particular, are a very private matter.”
Even sedated, Churchill was taking the corporate line. If I wanted to know anything more about why Carmen Montague was there, and who she was with, I had to switch my approach.
“Actually, it was the gentleman Miss Montague was with. I was wondering if you’d ever seen him with her before?”
“The gentleman?” Churchill shook his head. “I wouldn’t know one from the other. There’s always someone. I think she called this one James or Jason. Something like that. I suppose whoever she has with her is as much a bodyguard as an escort. She’d need that with what she’s carrying.”
“Ca…carrying?” I nearly choked over the word. “What was she carrying?”
“Oh dear, I’m afraid I’ve said too much. It must be the sedative they gave me. Makes me quite chatty. Like a London Lassie on holiday.”
“Would you prefer we talk off the record?”
“If you wouldn’t mind. I really shouldn’t have said anything at all, and now I’ve said too much. Promise me you’ll not use my name.”
I agreed.
Taking a glass of water from the table tray by his bed, Churchill took a long sip and started to explain the circumstances surrounding Carmen’s visit to the store.
“Ms. Montague is a courier. It’s not a secret. Her husband, or her ex, I’m never sure which, Señor Umberto Diaz de la Roca, dabbles in the trade of diamonds and one-of-a-kind heirloom jewelry. Most of what he brings to us comes from Europe, estate sales and the like. His connections are beyond reproach. I believe he’s a member of the Spanish nobility. I don’t follow such things, but from time to time he’ll contact us with information concerning items we might find of interest. And when we do, we arrange to buy them. It’s all a bit complicated, but I assure you, very above board. Although, as you might imagine, quite hush-hush.”
Listening to Churchill, I suddenly had a much better idea of what Eric was involved in, and a sinking feeling it was going to come between us. With Eric working one side of a story and me investigating another, I knew it couldn’t be good. Need-to-know versus right-to-know is a delicate balance when it comes to dating an agent. Already my stomach started to knot.
“And that’s what she was doing this morning? Making a delivery?
”
“Yes, but she was in a hurry. She had a lot of loose cut stones with her, diamonds mostly. Like she usually does. She hides them in a black eyeglass case. It’s small enough to be discreet, and this morning she slid it across the counter and then produced a diamond necklace and earrings she wanted to have reset. I placed the case beneath the display case, looked at her necklace, and told her I’d have it ready for her in a couple of days.”
“And she left right after?”
“Yes.”
I thought about the positioning inside the showroom. “And where were you when the bomb went off?”
“I had left my jewelers’ loupe in the office and I went to get it. The explosion threw me under my desk. I suppose it saved my life.”
“And your assistant? Where was she when Carmen came in this morning?”
“Ms. Pero. She was in the back, getting something from the safe. But the police tell me her body was found next to one of the display counters in the front of the store. I just don’t understand it. They told me she was hit with a piece of shredded glass and bled to death. Awful.”
I sympathized with his loss, and then asked if he remembered anyone else in the store. “A customer, perhaps?”
“I think there might have been a woman. A redhead maybe. But I think she left. Went out the door right after Carmen. I’m sorry I sound so confused. I really don’t remember. I suppose you could ask to see our security tape. Call Mr. Paley, our guard. Perhaps he could help.” He nodded to the dresser by the bed and told me his wallet was in the drawer. “Mr. Paley’s card is there.”
“How much do think they got away with?”
“Off the record? You promised.”
“Yes.”
“Carmen’s necklace and the earrings were worth about one point two million.”
“And the diamonds in the eyeglass case?”
“Between you and me, close to fifteen,” he said.
“Million?” I nearly choked.
Perhaps it was the excitement of the conversation, but for whatever reason, suddenly the heart monitor started to emit a pinging sound. Within seconds the nurse entered the room. She adjusted Churchill’s IV, then turned and looked at me. The wallet was still in my hands. The look on her face and the tone of her voice were both annoyed.
“I’m afraid, miss, you’ll have to leave. Mr. Churchill needs to rest, and unless you plan to take that wallet with you, I’d prefer you put it back where you found it. We don’t need our patient to get overexcited.”
I removed Mr. Paley’s business card and waved it innocently above my head—proof I wasn’t pilfering bills from Mr. Churchill’s wallet—then returned the wallet to the dresser drawer. Churchill, his smile waning, fluttered the tips of his fingers and lay back on the bed.
I left him staring vacantly at a rerun of Wheel of Fortune and returned to the ER’s waiting room. Charlie was still in X-ray. I took my phone out of my purse and called Eric while I waited.
“Hi, Jason?” I added a teasing lilt to my voice.
“Carol?”
“You were expecting Carmen, perhaps?”
“Look, I had no idea you’d be…why did you call me Jason?”
“I have my sources.”
He laughed.
“Yes, you do,” he said slowly. I sensed a little restrained flirtation. “Look, I couldn’t—”
“I know,” I said.
“I can’t talk.”
“Oh, I know that too. I figured you got called into something unexpected. I just wanted to call and say hello.”
“Hello back,” he said smoothly.
I paused.
“Charlie broke his wrist this morning.” I explained that I was at the hospital waiting for the results, and it looked like he wasn’t going to be playing football the rest of the season. Eric sympathized. He and Charlie had bonded over football. He knew this wouldn’t be easy.
“Look, I can’t promise, but I’ll try to call you later. But you know—”
“Hey, I get it. You don’t have to explain. We can talk later.” I hung up. Eric didn’t need to finish the sentence. I could have completed it without any effort. He was working a case. I was working a story. We understood the routine and that our respective roles—for the time being anyway—made for poor bedfellows and demanded a temporary hiatus to our romance.
“Ms. Childs?” I looked up to see the nurse standing in the doorway. She motioned for me to follow her.
I arrived back in the emergency room. Charlie was sitting on top of a bed in one of the privately screened sectioned-off areas that served as an exam room, his arm and wrist in a cast. He looked relieved to see me.
“I don’t need surgery. The doctor said it’s not so bad.” He sounded hopeful the doctor would release him to play. I knew better but wasn’t about to say.
Chapter 5
I called Tyler from the car. Charlie was riding shotgun. His right arm was in a sling, the expression on his face like a wounded warrior, his eyes cast downward. I explained to Tyler what had happened and that I was going home for the remainder of the day. He told me not to worry, that he’d fill in for my afternoon shift, and he wished Charlie well. He was about to hang up when I interrupted.
“You’ll never guess who I ran into at the hospital.”
“I don’t have time for games, Carol. Who?”
So much for Tyler’s bedside manner.
“Mr. Churchill.”
“Talk to me.”
“He was admitted to Cedars for observation and—”
“And what?”
I could hear the impatience in Tyler’s voice.
“It wasn’t just a robbery, Tyler. Churchill probably told me more than he should have. The medication he was on made him very talkative. He had me promise I’d leave his name off any report, but—get this—turns out Carmen Montague wasn’t just there to drop off a necklace. She’s a courier for her ex-husband, and she was there with—”
I stopped myself. I wasn’t about to tell Tyler I’d seen Carmen with Eric. On more than one occasion, Tyler had made it clear he didn’t think my relationship with an FBI Agent was wise and hoped it wouldn’t influence my reporting. I didn’t want him to think it would.
“With what, Carol?”
“Fifteen million dollars’ worth of loose cut stones and diamonds. That’s what,” I said.
For a few seconds there was silence on Tyler’s end, then the sounds of quick tapping across the keyboard. Tyler’s mind was one step ahead of his fingers. Talking as he read the screen in front of him, he said, “The police report says this is still an open investigation. KNX is reporting the robbery was a failed attempt. That the store suffered minimal damage, and Westin’s is claiming nothing was stolen. Where’s that coming from if you’re telling me Churchill said fifteen mil?”
“I don’t know, unless Churchill issued a statement from his hospital bed after I left. Might be he thought he said too much and wanted to correct it.”
“Let me get this straight. Let’s say Mimi’s right and Westin’s took a hit—a big hit—and lost fifteen million dollars’ worth of diamonds and stones. Stones the jeweler may have been planning to set into holiday pieces for the awards show next week, and—”
“And,” I interrupted, “word gets out they were stolen. Not the type of news they want for business and certainly not right before a big awards show.”
Tyler stopped typing. “That happens and suddenly we’ve got a lot of worried celebs thinking Westin’s isn’t safe. Maybe even wondering if what they’re wearing on the red carpet isn’t so real.”
“So Westin’s wants to make sure their clientele isn’t upset and issues a statement via the news media saying everything’s fine. That the robbery was a botched attempt and nothing was stolen.”
“Sounds plausible,” Tyler said.
“Except we know that’s not the truth. Not if what Churchill told me is correct.”
Even as I said it, I wondered if maybe the FBI had another reason for keeping things quiet. Something more. Something that might explain why Eric was with Carmen before the robbery and that could possibly be linked to the explosion.
I glanced over at Charlie. His eyelids were at half-mast; the painkillers had kicked in. I told Tyler I’d talk to him in the morning and hung up.
Soon as I heard the click, the phone rang again.
“What happened?” Sheri sounded impatient and I couldn’t blame her. With all that had happened, I’d yet to get to her.
“It was a robbery,” I said, “and—”
“No, not that.” Now she sounded irritated.
“You mean Eric?”
“No!” she screamed into the phone. “Charlie. How is he?”
I didn’t have time to ask how she knew; she was already explaining that Clint had called her from the school. Apparently while Charlie was being loaded into the ambulance, Clint was being escorted, none too ceremoniously, to the principal’s office for disciplinary action. Mr. Walter, the headmaster, had placed the call to Sheri himself and suggested she come pick him up.
“Or bail him out,” Sheri said. “I’m not sure which. All Walter would tell me was that he had spoken to the coach and that Clint was being benched for roughhousing.”
I suggested they come over for dinner.
Chapter 6
Charlie spent the afternoon on the couch napping while I did as much follow-up on this morning’s robbery as possible. I started by calling Henry Westin’s and, like Mimi, got no answer. The call went immediately to voicemail, informing me they were closed temporarily and would open for business as usual tomorrow. I dialed the number on the card Churchill had given me for Westin’s security guard, Mr. Paley. It too went to voicemail. I then tried the Beverly Hills police department and got nowhere. I spoke with a desk sergeant who told me this morning’s robbery had been a failed attempt. Henry Westin’s had sustained minor damage, and if I wanted more information, I needed to call the store directly. I was back where I started.
Without a Doubt Page 3
