Howard leaned in, whispered something to the man, and then nodded his head in Billy and Phoebe’s direction. The salesman nodded back and left Howard to attend to Billy and Phoebe.
“You again,” he huffed. “What is it now?” The man tapped his shoe on the floor and scowled impatiently at the pair of teenagers.
“We would like information about this piece,” Billy said pointing to the sculpture.
The salesman glanced at Howard before returning his attention to Billy. “What do you want to know about it?”
Phoebe glanced in Howard’s direction and could tell that he was struggling to open the locket. She couldn’t understand why it wasn’t opening. The thought that it might not be her mother’s made her sick to her stomach. After all their hard work—had they gotten to where they are now only to find out the cameo is simply a close copy and not the one stolen from her mother? On top of that, she wasn’t sure how long they could keep Mr. Sour Face occupied.
“What exactly would you like to know?” The salesman was growing impatient.
Phoebe tried to keep one eye focused on the salesman and the other on Howard and the cameo. Come on Howard, open it! She kicked herself for not asking her father more questions. Maybe there’s a certain skill to opening the locket—simply applying pressure in the right spots didn’t seem to be working.
“Well . . .”
Phoebe could tell Billy had no idea what to ask. As much as she wanted to know if Howard was going to get the locket opened, she had to help Billy or the whole plan would be wrecked.
“How much is it? Phoebe blurted out. Shoot! That was a stupid question. As she waited for an answer, she tried to organize her thoughts and come up with a more intelligent question.
“The sculpture is four thousand dollars,” The man announced abruptly.
Phoebe glanced at Howard who had his back turned to her so she couldn’t see what he was doing. She returned her attention to the salesman and cleared her throat. “Before we pay for it, we need to know who the artist is. I mean, we need to assess the potential appreciation of the piece and that depends, in large part, on the artist.” Phoebe folded her arms in front of her and waited for a response.
The salesman glared at Phoebe; he held up a finger and excused himself before sauntering to the back of the gallery and disappeared through a door.
Phoebe raced over to Howard. “Did you get it?” she asked frantically.
“Not yet,” Howard replied, holding the cameo up for her to see. “It’s here and here, right?” he pointed to the two spots where he had been applying pressure.
Phoebe looked at the cameo. Her hands shook and she was too nervous to focus clearly. From what she could tell, Howard was applying pressure in the right spots but the cameo was not opening. “Wait!” she whispered, excitedly. “You need to flip it; you have it upside down,”
Howard turned the cameo and pressed the two spots. Instantly, the locket popped open. Phoebe let out a loud squeal before clamping both hands over her mouth.
Billy hurried over to them. “Did you get it?”
“Yes, we did!” she squealed excitedly.
Billy looked at the open locket and, after seeing that it was open, he took Phoebe’s hand. “Let’s go before he comes back”.
“Wait,” Phoebe pleaded. “I want to see it.” She strained to get a good look at the open locket but Billy pulled her toward the exit door.
“You can see it later, Feebs. We need to get out of here now.”
Reluctantly, she followed Billy toward the exit.
It was only a few minutes later when Howard slid into the booth’s vinyl bench opposite Phoebe and Billy at the diner. They listened while Howard told them what happened after they left. “When Francis returned—”
“Wait a sec. Who’s Francis?” Phoebe asked.
“Francis is the salesman. Anyway—
Billy and Phoebe laughed out loud and Howard paused until they finished.
“We’re sorry Howard,” Phoebe explained. “But isn’t Francis a girl’s name?”
“Sometimes it is, but not in this case,” Howard said.
“These days, a guy would get beat up with a name like Francis,” Billy joked.
“Obviously there’s a generation gap or two at play here,” Howard said, before continuing. “Anyway, as I was saying, Francis returned with Charles—that’s his business partner—in tow.”
Phoebe said a silent thank you that she and Billy were out of there before the salesmen got there.
“When he noticed you were gone he whispered something to Charles. They both gave a disgusted look toward the door and Charles returned to the back room. Francis apologized for leaving me for so long and tried his best to close the sale”.
Phoebe was on the edge of her seat, hanging on Howard’s every word. “What happened then?”
“Well, I threw a perfect fit at the poor service he’d provided. I gave him a little of his own medicine,” Howard said with a wink. “I told him that I had fully intended to purchase the cameo but had thought better of it during the time I was being ignored. I handed the locket back to him and waltzed out of there with my nose in the air!”
“You didn’t!”
“I certainly did young lady. And he followed me out the door and down the sidewalk, apologizing the entire time.”
“That’s something I wish I could have seen,” Phoebe said between fits of laughter.
“There’s something else,” Howard added, pulling his cell phone from his shirt pocket.
“What is it?” The two asked in unison.
“When I bought this silly thing . . .” Howard held up his cell phone. “I wondered if I’d ever use it. I only got it to have in case of an emergency. I am not much for talking on the phone.” He opened the phone and pressed some buttons. “Well, I have yet to make a call, but while at the gallery, I learned how to use the camera.” Howard turned the phone so that Phoebe could see the picture displayed on the screen. Phoebe leaned over the table to get a closer look.
“Is that . . .” her voice cracked and her eyes filled with tears. She picked up Howard’s phone and brought it closer to her face.
“That’s you,” Howard flipped to the next picture. “And those are your parents.”
Phoebe held the phone, staring at the images on the screen as she flipped back and forth from one to the other.
“I sure am glad I let that phone salesman talk me into buying the one with a camera built in. I laughed when he showed it to me, but it sure came in handy today.”
“Well, now we know for sure,” Phoebe managed to say, her voice still shaky.
“Are you okay?” Billy asked. He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him.
Phoebe nodded. “I think so,” she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. I mean it’s all so overwhelming. But I’m thankful we know the truth.” She glanced across the table. “Thank you Howard.”
“It was the least I could do,” Howard said, sweeping the matter away with a wave of his hand. “Your dad is a good friend of mine and I would do anything to help him, and you.”
As Howard spoke, it occurred to Phoebe that he might decide to call her dad and tell him what they’d discovered. She didn’t want to say anything that would encourage Howard to make a call if he hadn’t planned on it. But, she couldn’t risk having him call and tell her dad something that would cause him to force her to come home.
“Howard . . .” Phoebe paused to plan her words. “I was hoping . . . well, I want to ask you not to say anything to my dad about this.”
“Afraid he’ll make you come home?” Howard asked, raising his eyebrows slyly at Phoebe.
“Sort of . . . I need to stay until I get this thing figured out.”
“I understand,” Howard said, locking his lips with an imaginary key and tossing it over his shoulder. “Mum’s the word.”
“Thanks Howard,” Phoebe smiled. “And, thanks for all your help.”
“You’re entirely welcome
,” Howard placed his hands flat on the table and glanced from Billy to Phoebe. “What do we do now? How do we catch the scoundrel?”
Phoebe and Billy both laughed at Howard’s choice of words. “I’m not sure,” Phoebe raised eyebrows at Billy.
“Well, since we know the cameo was your mother’s, we need to go back to the gallery and demand they tell us who sold it to them.”
Howard shook his head. “Hold on a second.” He held a hand in the air. “Those guys aren’t going to just hand over the name. You need something more—something that’ll hit them right where it hurts.
“Like what?”
“Like, young lady, something that will threaten the most valuable thing they have.”
Billy and Phoebe stared at Howard with confused looks on their faces.
“Think about it. You’ve been in the gallery a few times. I’ve spent a great deal of time there. What do those two social-climbers treasure more than anything else?” Howard waited for either Billy or Phoebe to take a guess and when they didn’t, he added, “Their precious reputation, that’s what.”
Both teenagers nodded at once. “You’re right Howard,” Billy said. “But what do we have that we could use to coerce them into giving us the information?”
Howard thought for a moment before raising a finger in the air while giving a loud “Ah-ha!”
“What Howard? What is it?” The excited look on Howard’s face told Phoebe that he’d come up with the answer.
“When the break-in happened, the police took pictures of everything. I remember you father having to copy photographs of the stolen jewelry to give to the police. The police document everything—that report is surely on file at the courthouse. Get your hands on that, and you’ve got them. Next time you visit the gallery, you bring the report, along with the pictures. Just the mention of an investigation into the gallery possibly selling stolen merchandise will have those two in such a fit—they’ll do anything to avoid the negative attention.”
“Yes!” Howard, that’s perfect.” Phoebe bounced up and down in her seat. Before she and Billy left the diner, she wrapped her arms around Howard. “Thank you so much! We couldn’t have done this without you.”
Howard’s face lit up. “Well, I have to admit, it’s been quite a splendid experience for me. I don’t get much excitement in my life these days.”
Fourteen
On Saturday, Phoebe woke up early and got ready to head to the gallery. She was certain Francis would not be happy to see her; but she was ready. She’d read and reread the police report that Jenna helped her get. It stated clearly that one of the items stolen from her parent’s house was an opal cameo brooch. Just as Howard had said it would, it described, in great detail, each of the pieces of jewelry stolen. The report was not easy to get.
When the two girls had gone to the courthouse, they were told that since the crime was committed so long ago, the report was filed away in storage and it could take weeks to access it. Phoebe got the feeling that the lady behind the counter simply did not want to help them. She didn’t seem the sort that was fond of getting out of her chair for any reason. Jenna—who insisted they ask someone else for help—used her playful nature along with a few well-spoken words to get her hands on the report. David, the court clerk agreed to pull some strings and said he’d call Jenna as soon as he was able to access the report. He called on Friday and the two girls raced to the courthouse to meet him. He was waiting for them in the foyer and, after giving them the report, he asked Jenna out to dinner and she accepted. Since then, Jenna and David had been inseparable.
***
When Phoebe and Billy arrived at the gallery, Francis was nowhere in sight and Charles was helping a couple with a purchase. He glanced toward them as they entered, but he didn’t give them as much as a nod to acknowledge their presence. The man and women he was helping were purchasing a large wooden statue.
“I’ll ship this off today and it could take up to ten days to arrive in Louisiana.” Phoebe overheard Charles say as he placed the statue in a cardboard box. He made small talk with the couple for several minutes after finishing the transaction. Phoebe was sure he was taking his time in the hopes that she and Billy would leave. But, there was no way she would leave there without the name of the person that sold them the cameo.
After several minutes of waiting, Charles finally sauntered over to them.
“What do you wish to purchase this time?” he asked, sarcastically. He wore a smirk of superiority on his sour face that fueled Phoebe’s already blazing fire. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can dispense with the technicalities and get right to it.”
“We don’t wish to purchase anything from you,” Phoebe countered.
“Well then what, pray tell, are you doing here?”
Phoebe took a deep breath to calm her racing pulse. “We are here to inform you that we intend to report you to the authorities for attempting to sell stolen merchandise from this gallery.”
Charles’ face reddened and his stance became rigid. He glanced over his shoulder and his eyes scanned the room. After determining that they were alone, he spoke.
“You had better be prepared to explain yourself young lady! This is a reputable business; my partner and I are highly regarded members of this community. How dare you suggest such a thing?” Veins throbbed in his temple and his pale face reddened with anger.
Phoebe removed the police report and the photo of the cameo from her purse while Charles eyed her suspiciously. “I can explain everything,” she waved the file in the air between them.
“What is that?” he demanded. “I’m very busy and I can’t take time for frivolousness today.”
“I would be more than happy to explain; would you like to discuss it right here, or in private?”
Charles marched to the front door and flipped the open sign over.
“Follow me,” he ordered as he strutted past them and headed toward the back of the room.
Billy and Phoebe were led to a large, luxuriously decorated office. Charles sat behind a giant mahogany desk. Without a word, he motioned with his hand for the two to take a seat in the large leather chairs across from him.
“Now let’s carry on, shall we,” Charles tapped a pen on the top of his desk.
“Okay,” Phoebe opened the envelope. “Let me show you what I have.” She pointed to the page of the police report that described the cameo necklace in detail.
“That could be just about any cameo. That doesn’t prove anything.” Charles scoffed after scanning the page.
Billy leaned forward and was about to speak when Phoebe gave him a look that told him she could handle the snooty salesman.
“I figured you’d say that,” Phoebe said, as she pulled out the photograph of the cameo. It was enlarged so the specific features of the brooch were visible. Looking at it, Charles could not deny that the two cameos were one and the same.
“Well, so it’s the same cameo. That doesn’t prove anything. We purchased it legitimately and we can prove it.” Charles’ patronizing attitude was gone and he’d begun to perspire.
“Yes, I’m sure you can,” Phoebe gave Charles a knowing smile. “And that is precisely what I am going to ask you to do. All I need is the name of the person that sold you the cameo. If you will give me that, I will leave and I’ll never mention any of this to anyone.” She paused for a moment and then continued. “Or you can refuse to give me the information I need and I will leave here, go directly to the police station, and tell them everything I know.”
“Do you really think that they’ll take the word of the daughter of a felon like you over a respectable business man like me?” Charles snapped.
This made Phoebe’s blood boil. She looked at Billy who looked like he was ready to jump over the desk and punch Charles in the face.
Phoebe forced herself to remain calm. “Maybe . . . maybe not. But, if I turn what I know over to the police, there will be an investigation. Even if nothing comes of it, it will most definitely damage
your gallery’s precious reputation.”
Charles peered at her over his glasses. The look of contempt on his face spoke volumes. He seemed to be searching for a retort but he said nothing. She had him and she knew it. There was nothing more for her to do but wait. Without another word, Charles stood and left the room. As soon as he was gone, Phoebe blew out a long anxious breath.
“You did great!” Billy leaned over and gave her a one-armed hug. “You’ve got him right where we want him.”
“Do you really think so?” she glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “I was so nervous. I couldn’t tell how it was going.”
Before Billy could respond, Charles returned. He was carrying a slip of paper that he laid on the desk in front of Phoebe.
“I trust you’ll keep your side of the bargain.”
“I will,” she reached for the piece of paper and slipped it into her purse without looking at it. There would be plenty of time for that later. “And, for the record. . .” she said as she stood to leave, “. . . my father is no criminal.”
***
Once she was in the cab of Billy’s truck, Phoebe reached in her purse and pulled out the slip of paper. On it, Charles had written a name and a telephone number.
Gracie Bronson
801-555-7391
Phoebe stared at the name. “It’s a female.”
“Yeah, Gracie is normally a female name.”
“It’s just that . . .” Phoebe hesitated.
“Just what?”
“Well . . .” Phoebe glanced at the name again. “This may sound kind of chauvinistic, but I never imagined the person who broke in and killed my mom was a woman. I assumed . . . I mean it’s hard to imagine that a woman was the one who . . .”
“One step at a time, Feebs,” Billy said. “Let’s find this Gracie person and talk to her. Let’s not jump to conclusions. Okay?” He leaned over and looked Phoebe in the eyes. “You okay? You wanna take a break for today?”
Phoebe was not okay and she could definitely use a break.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
Summer In Iron Springs Page 13
