Moonbeams: A Christian Romance Novel (The Lewis Legacy Series Book 5)

by JoAnn Durgin

  “Thanks, I think,” Cassie said, laughing.

  “Has Mitch made any plans to show you around the city? I know you’re not here for long—this time—but Saturday is a good day to get around much easier since there’s fewer people downtown.”

  “I’ll let him decide, especially since he didn’t know I was coming. Being together will be fun. I didn’t come to see any sights but Mitch.” She blushed when Amy laughed. “You know what I mean.” A random idea popped into her mind. “Is there a library near here, by any chance?”

  “There’s one four blocks away. It’s the one closest to the townhouse. Why?”

  “I’m thinking we can go there and check the computer for a list of Mark Twain’s books. I’ll print out the list and then we can take it to one of those secondhand bookstores Mitch likes.”

  Something lit in Amy’s expression. “I think I see where you’re going with this, clever girl. Excellent idea. I got him a first edition of Innocents Abroad a few years ago in a bookstore in SoHo and he went nuts over it.”

  Cassie’s smile downturned. “Forget it, then. I’ve saved up some money, but I’m sure a first edition will cost more than I can afford. Not that Mitch isn’t worth it, but it doesn’t sound like it’s a very original idea.”

  “Nonsense. If it comes from you—first edition or not—he’ll treasure it even more because you cared enough to indulge one of his passions. I’ll pitch in to help, if you want. Trust me, nothing will thrill him more. That’s why we should also check the suggested prices for first edition classics—so we’ll have a ballpark idea of the cost. Most of the dealers are reputable and know Mitch. He’s spent more than a few hours perusing the shelves in some of the local bookstores. Matter of fact, if we drop his name, we’ll get first class service.” Amy tucked her hand over her arm. “Come on. This will be fun.”

  “If you say so.” She might as well see what they could find and hope the cost didn’t give her a stroke.

  Entering the front doors of the massive library a few minutes later, Amy pointed her in the direction of the computers. “This was my old stomping grounds when I lived in the townhouse.”

  Cassie glanced around in awe. From the black-and-white-tiled floors to the Tiffany-style hanging lamps, brass fixtures and dark wood furniture, the library was magnificent. It had to be at least a century old. “I love this place,” she said, lowering her voice when she heard it echo. Turning in a slow circle, lifting her gaze to survey the atrium-styled structure, she breathed in deeply of the familiar smell of old books. Call her weird, but she’d always loved it.

  “I could spend a lot of time here. One of my favorite places to escape into a whole new world was in our library back home,” Cassie said, her voice wistful. “It was free entertainment and I spent hours there every week. But it was nothing like this.”

  Amy smiled. “No wonder you and Mitch get along so well. He’s here almost every Saturday morning.” She pointed to a nearby group of tables. “He parks himself over in that general area.”

  “I can see why,” Cassie said. “Let’s go check the computer.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they’d printed out a list of Twain’s works as well as some basic information about pricing for vintage books. Amy made everything fun and Cassie had to stifle her laughter a couple of times.

  “Hold on a second,” Amy said as they walked back toward the entrance. “See that girl behind the reference desk? The one with the dark hair?”

  Cassie followed Amy’s gaze. “Do you know her?”

  “Not really, but Mitch dated her last year. She has a mermaid name. Like that animated movie that came out a few years ago.”

  Why was Amy telling her about his ex-girlfriend? Cassie’s eyes widened. “That’s Arielle?”

  Amy snapped her gaze back to her. “He actually told you about her?”

  “Yes, he mentioned her because. . .” Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything considering this was the woman Mitch suspected of “lifting”—his polite term for stealing—a prized sculpture belonging to Grandpa Carlisle from the townhouse. “Okay, don’t tell your brother you heard it from me, but he believes Arielle. . . took something from him.”

  Amy crossed her arms. “Tell me straight, Cass. What ‘thing’ are we talking about here?”

  Cassie’s mind worked furiously as she formulated a plan. “So you’ve never met her, huh?”

  “No, I never have. They didn’t date very long.” Amy eyed her closely. “You’ve got that look. Reminds me of Mitch. What are you thinking?”

  Cassie stepped closer to her friend. “I’m going to tell you, but you can’t make a scene or gasp or anything like that. Rein it in, Mrs. Warnick.”

  Amy’s brows rose. “This must be big. Spill it.”

  Cassie inhaled a quick breath. “Mitch told me he believes Arielle took a sculpture from the townhouse that once belonged to your Grandpa Carlisle.”

  Amy’s eyes grew wide, but she twisted her lips and nodded without saying a word.

  “If my plan works, we’ll save the first edition Twain idea for another time.” Cassie gave her a shaky smile. Her nerves could get the best of her if she allowed them, but she wanted to do this for Mitch and his family. Suddenly, she needed to do this for him.

  With new resolve, Cassie squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Come with me, Amy. We’re going to get that sculpture back.”

  Chapter 32

  Cassie’s heart pounded as she approached the reference desk and her palms felt damp. Her gaze fell on the nameplate in front of where Arielle worked. Yep, it was the mermaid klepto all right, although that wasn’t a charitable thought. Whispering a quick prayer under her breath, hoping this wasn’t a completely stupid idea, Cassie stepped up to the counter. All for Mitch.

  She’d played the lead role in one of her high school productions. Sure, it was pretty much an all-girl play because none of the boys wanted to be caught in a “sissy play.” Now seemed the time to call on the old acting skills, rusty as they were.

  Arielle acknowledged her with a polite nod as she helped another patron. An older librarian moved over to her with a kindly smile. “How may I assist you today?”

  “I’d like to speak with Miss”—Cassie glanced at Arielle’s nameplate—“Carson.”

  “She might be busy for a while longer. May I be of some assistance?”

  Well-meaning though she might be, the woman’s helpful attitude was starting to irritate her. For once in her life, she didn’t want someone to be so nice. Life could be so ironic sometimes. “No, thank you. This is a personal matter. I’ll wait.”

  “Very well, then. I’m sure Arielle will be with you soon. Have a pleasant day.” The woman quickly disappeared around the corner.

  Cassie drummed her fingers across the counter, stopping when Arielle gave her a pointed look. Amy nudged her shoulder. “Let me know if you want me to do or say anything.”

  “Will do.” Beneath veiled lids, she noticed how Arielle spoke in low tones with a man in a red knit stocking cap pulled low over his forehead even though it was fairly warm outside. He wore ripped jeans made to look old. The kind that cost a small fortune because they had some fancy designer’s name embroidered on the backside. They hung low on his hips without any belt in sight and the top band of his underwear was clearly on display.

  Multiple gold chains were draped around his neck and more dangled from both wrists. Since when did guys wear more jewelry than women? He didn’t look like what she’d consider a typical library patron, but what did she know? She’d seen a number of guys dressed this way on the streets. One thing she did know? If she spied gold chains anywhere on Mitch’s body, she might have to do a little “lifting” herself. Somehow, he didn’t seem the type.

  The guy handed Arielle an envelope. Was that. . .money? It sure looked like money peeking out from the top flap—not fully visible but enough to know it was there. Whatever they were discussing, it was clear it wasn’t a book or rental fee.

  Cassie grabbed
a listing of library classes from the counter and pretended to study it—Origami for your Mommy sounded plenty interesting—while darting glances at the duo huddling together at the end of the counter. Her hands shook and she lowered them to the counter, needing an anchor.

  “I’m sorry for your wait,” Arielle said, coming over to her a couple of minutes later. “Can I help you find something?” Her blue eyes grew rounder when she spied Amy standing beside her. “You have to be Mitch Jacobsen’s sister,” she said, extending her hand across the counter. “You look too much like him not to be related.”

  “Amy Warnick.” She shook the other woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you. This is my friend, Cassie Thorenson.”

  “How is Mitch these days? I’ve missed him.”

  As Amy talked with Arielle, Cassie shifted from one foot to the other, thankful for the desk that separated them. Was it a good or bad thing that Arielle recognized the family resemblance? She hadn’t thought of that angle. Not that she’d thought this plan through at all.

  Lord, please let this work. What, oh what, did she think she was doing? Hoping she wasn’t obvious, Cassie pinned her gaze on Amy and tilted her head slightly toward Arielle. Keep her talking, she mouthed.

  “Cassie’s visiting New York for the first time,” Amy said. “I thought I’d show her our fabulous local library. I used to live in the family’s townhouse before Mitch moved in, and like my brother, I spent a lot of time here.”

  Was Amy trying to imply she knew Arielle had also been in the townhouse? Cassie had to give her credit for being civil after hearing Mitch suspected the woman of stealing the valuable heirloom. That news would send some people flying across the counter to try and force a confession out of her. But what if Mitch was mistaken and Arielle hadn’t taken it? From what he’d said, the librarian was the only suspect. Too late for misgivings now. She’d already set Operation Statue in place, so she needed to get on with it.

  Unzipping her purse, Cassie reached into a small inside pocket. She’d kept the fake diamond engagement ring there ever since Mitch left Houston. Finding it, she pulled it out and slipped the ring on her finger.

  “How nice,” Arielle said to Amy, turning back to her. “Is there something specific I can help you ladies find today?”

  “I was wondering if we can talk somewhere privately.” Cassie made a point to put her left hand on top of the counter, and she tapped her fingers up and down.

  “May I ask what this is about?” Sure enough, Arielle’s gaze drifted to the ring.

  “Cassie, I’ll be right over here when you’re ready to leave.” Amy pointed to a grouping of chairs and strolled away. Cassie wanted to beg her not to go, but perhaps it was for the best. Might as well get straight to the heart of the matter.

  “Something’s gone missing from the townhouse, and I sus—I’m hoping you might know something about it.”

  Arielle visibly stiffened and her eyes narrowed. As much as she hated to admit it, the woman was very pretty with straight, long dark hair and classic features. The precise and perfect type with not a single hair out of place that always made her feel somewhat self-conscious by comparison. “I thought Amy said you were only visiting.”

  “I am. Mitch and I are. . .very close friends, but yes, I live. . .somewhere else.”

  “Somewhere southern, I’ll bet.” Coming from this woman’s lips, it wasn’t a compliment. “Are you a detective?”

  Cassie swallowed. She couldn’t lie but neither could she leave the library without trying to get the truth. “Let’s just say I can put up a big stink if you don’t answer my questions.” She infused that statement with as much authority as she could muster. Put up a stink? Really?

  “I’m not answering any questions unless you have some kind of official badge or warrant.”

  “I don’t think you want to do that.” Cassie touched the sleeve of the other woman’s tailored white blouse as Arielle started to turn away.

  “Look, I don’t care who you are,” Arielle seethed, leaning halfway across the desk. “Kindly remove your hand or I’ll call security and have you forcibly removed from the premises. The alert button’s right here, an inch away. I won’t hesitate to push it.”

  When Arielle moved her hand, Cassie clutched her forearm. Time to run—gallop—with her idea and hope it worked. “I’m sure your supervisor would like to know why you accepted money from the library patron who was here at the desk just now. You know, I’ve always held such high respect for librarians, but I hardly believe this is proper and acceptable behavior. Do you?” She glanced up at the ceiling. “And would you look at that? A handy dandy surveillance camera right above the desk.” She started to raise her hand as if to wave at the camera.

  “Fine,” Arielle said through clenched teeth. She lowered her voice. “Tell me what you want.”

  Cassie’s gaze bore into the other woman and Arielle motioned for her to step to the end of the counter. That appeared to be the place where she conducted her personal business. “Where’s the sculpture, Arielle?”

  After a long moment, Arielle blew out a breath. “None of your business.” At least she didn’t deny any knowledge of its existence.

  “On second thought, maybe I’ll push that button,” Cassie said. “Security would come running over here, right? I’m sure they’d love a good juicy story about one of their junior librarians.”

  “You’re not as innocent as you look are you, Little Miss Mary Sunshine?”

  “It’s Cassie, for the record. If you tell me willingly, the police might go easier on you.”

  Arielle closed her eyes for a long moment before her lids fluttered open again. “I didn’t do anything with it, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s safe in my apartment.”

  “Why’d you take it?”

  She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know except that I like it. Maybe I wanted a souvenir. Call it a parting gift from Mitch.” Her voice held barely disguised sarcasm. “He’ll dump you, too. He’s not the kind of man to commit to anything more long term than a fly-by-night relationship.”

  Cassie stiffened at that comment but kept her gaze steady. Arielle’s words gave her hope that she could still hope to recover the sculpture.

  “I’ll sell it to you.”

  Cassie gasped but then closed her mouth. The nerve of the woman. She wanted to throttle her. “You can’t sell something that doesn’t belong to you. Listen to me because this is how it’s going to happen. How far do you live from here?” Where she got the gumption to say all that, she had no idea, but this was getting a little fun now. Weird, but fun.

  “It’s a ten minute walk.”

  “Fine. I’ll spring for cab fare. Time to take a little field trip.”

  “Who do you think you are? You can’t waltz in my library with your hick country accent, threaten me and then order me around. The way I see it, Mitch owes me.”

  “He owes you nothing.”

  Arielle’s gaze fell on the ring. “I’ll trade you for the ring.”

  Worthless or not, she’d grown rather accustomed to the ring. She didn’t need to consider it and valued it for the sentimental value alone. “This ring’s not for sale or trade.” Ever.

  “Then no deal.”

  “Listen, you little literary shyster.” Time to pour on the arsenal. “You’re going to take a coffee break now. I’m going with you to your apartment and you’re going to hand over the sculpture or Amy and I will have no qualms about going to the police and filing charges against you for theft. Maybe grand theft since I suspect that sculpture is worth a pretty decent sum of money.” She didn’t know that for a fact, but it seemed the right thing to say given the circumstances. Nonetheless, it was probably true. Cassie drummed her fingers on top of the counter again to irritate the other woman further.

  “Why are you doing Mitch’s dirty work?”

  That question stopped her for a moment. Of course. Arielle was playing the old ploy of a woman dropping her handkerchief on the ground with the hope a hands
ome man would retrieve and return it. And come back for more. From what she knew of kleptomaniacs, they didn’t take anything for monetary gain but because of a lack of something in their own lives. In this case, it could be a lack of affection from Mitch, but more than likely, from someone else in Arielle’s past.

  Cassie snapped to attention. “That sculpture is part of his heritage, his family, and it’s very important to all of them.”

  Arielle’s shoulders slumped. Could it be she’d finally gotten through and pierced her conscience? One could only hope.

  “If I give you the sculpture, you won’t press charges, right? I can’t lose my job.” The other woman appeared frightened and at least sounded repentant.

  Cassie mustered a small smile. “I can’t very well report something as stolen if I’m holding it in my hands, now can I?”

  ~~**~~

  Cassie and Amy rode with Arielle in the elevator to her tenth floor apartment where she surrendered the Lew Lawrie sculpture. She handed it over to Amy and managed a small apology. As surprising as that was, it confirmed in Cassie’s mind that Arielle wasn’t a bad person. Not at all, but she was misguided and most likely hurting from more than Mitch’s rejection.

  Before leaving the apartment, Cassie told Arielle they’d pray for her but received a dirty look in response. “Yeah, well, good luck with that.”

  “Mitch didn’t want to report you to the police, Arielle, but there’s Someone else you should report to and ask forgiveness from,” Amy said.

  “Who’s that?” From the round, questioning eyes to the clueless comment, Arielle obviously wasn’t a woman of faith.

  Cassie’s heart softened, and she resolved to pray for her. “Arielle, God—Jesus—wants to have a personal relationship with you. He cares about you and He loves you, but you have to invite Him to be a part of your life. I asked Him into my heart when I was a little girl, but I didn’t really know what it meant to live for Jesus until I moved to Houston. He blessed me with people to help me learn more about Him. I’ll pray He’ll do that for you, too. Godly people who’ll always care about you and pray for you.”