TheCrystal

by Sandra Cox

  “He’s involved somehow. I don’t know how. But he’s involved. And I intend to prove it.”

  Gabby closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, fighting back the pain that burned like hot coals behind her eyes. Her father was fanatical when it came to solving crimes. His eyes glowed with the fervor of a religious fanatic about to receive a divine revelation. “Dad, you are talking about the man I love.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Goodnight Dad.”

  “Gabby…”

  Gabby sat the phone in the cradle. She walked to the bed, flopped down and stared up at the textured white ceiling. She would have to find out what she could about Christopher before her father did.

  She couldn’t afford a private eye. Gabby jumped out of bed as another memory clicked into place. She could do the next best thing.

  She’d contact Louie.

  About a year ago, she’d done a ride along with her dad. He’d received a call about an illegal dog ring, but by the time they got there the ring had been warned and the perpetrators had cleared out, leaving behind an old golden retriever in pretty bad shape.

  Gabby took it to the vet, paid its bills and put up flyers all over town. The dog, of course, had been stolen and used to bait the pit bulls and other fighting dogs the ring used.

  One day a seedy-looking man with shifty eyes showed up on her porch to claim his dog. The man saw the dog and his eyes filled with tears. He got down on his knees and spread open his arms. The dog flew into them.

  From that moment a cautious association—friendship would be too strong a word—developed between Gabby and Louie. Louie made his living in sales as he called his fencing job. He was mortified when he first discovered who Gabby’s father was. He and Sergeant Bell went way back. The sergeant ran him in on a regular basis.

  But Louie and Nugget, as he called his retriever, always reminded Gabby that love sprouted in the most unlikely places.

  Louie had become an excellent source of information for her…when he was in town. He had to leave regularly, one step ahead of the law.

  She wondered if he had returned. She didn’t think she had seen him since Christopher entered her life. Gabby rubbed her throbbing temples, clicked on the bedside lamp with its soft lighting and walked over and flipped off the bright overhead light. Ah better.

  Grabbing her straw handbag with pictures of sandals and beach umbrellas plastered on it, she dumped the contents on her bed. Among the mace, billfold, miscellaneous ink pens and lipsticks lay a well-worn little black leather book. She plucked it up and walked back to the desk.

  Gabby picked up the phone and called his office, as he referred to the green-painted, tin warehouse he worked out of. Louie had a cell phone, but that was information Gabby wasn’t privileged to know.

  On the third ring, Louie picked up. “Louie’s warehouse, our special of the week is TVs.”

  “Got you working third shift now, Louie?”

  “Hey, Blondie, how you doing? Nugget come say hi to Blondie.” Gabby grinned as she heard a “woof-woof” in the background. “So what’s shakin’? Haven’t talked to you in a long time.”

  “Been on vacation?”

  “Yeah, went up North. It was getting a little hot in town if you know what I mean,” then laughed uproariously at his joke. “How’s your old man? Be sure and give him my regards.”

  “Will do, Louie.” They both knew that was a blatant lie. Gabby might not be a well-known reporter but she was savvy enough not to endanger her sources. “And you be sure and say hello to Big Nick for me.”

  “Of course.”

  They both knew that was another falsehood. It was rumored Big Nick had mafia connections and would frown upon Louie, whom he occasionally did business with, having an acquaintance with the press, even if the reporter was as small-time as Gabby.

  “So what can I do for you, kid?”

  “Louie, have you ever heard of…” A banging sounded in the background, making Gabby wince.

  “Hey, it looks like I’ve got customers. I’ll call you back.”

  “I’m not at home. Call me on my cell. You have my cell number.” Louie laughed good-naturedly. “All in good time kid. All in good time.” The receiver clicked.

  Gabby pulled out her phone and plopped on the bed. She closed her eyes.

  The next thing she knew, someone was covering her face in wet kisses and a phone was ringing on the TV. She reached for the remote to click it off. A particularly slurpy kissed landed on her lips. She grimaced and opened her eyes. “Ned get down,” and pushed him away. He stood grinning at her, his plumy tail waving. The phone stopped ringing. “Damn it.” Sitting up, she winced and grabbed her head, the migraine while not full force was still with her.

  She dialed Louie’s number. He picked up immediately. “Louie’s warehouse.”

  “It’s me.” She lay on the bed on her back, wisps of her hair fanned out on the pillow.

  “Make it snappy. I’ve got some guys coming back for a hundred TVs in twenty minutes.”

  “Louie you really shouldn’t tell me about that.”

  “Tell you what? That I’m selling TVs that I bought from an electronics company? I’m just a small business man trying to turn an honest dollar.”

  Gabby rolled her eyes and cut to the chase. “Have you ever heard of The Tiger?”

  There was no answer on the other end of the phone.

  “Louie? Louie? Are you there?”

  “If I did, it would be more than my life is worth to talk about it.”

  “Okay, Louie,” she soothed. “How about this, we’ll do a word association okay?”

  “I’m listening,” he replied cautiously.

  “If I say jewels does a large zoo animal come to mind?” They had played this version of reporter charades before.

  “Yes.”

  “Does this large animal roam in any particular zoo?”

  “Zoos are all over the world. But I hear they originated in Calcutta. Zoo animals are smart, quick and deadly. And known for their ornamentation.”

  Calcutta? She was having trouble focusing. “Ornamentation? A zoo animal?”

  “What, haven’t you ever heard of a tiger eye? And that’s all I’m saying Blondie, except watch yourself.”

  “Thanks, Louie, you too.”

  Gabby pushed a button and ended the call. She got up and walked to the window and stared out at the velvety night. The globed lamp posts threw a soft yellow glow over the large garden courtyard surrounded by wrought iron fencing below her window. Ignoring the AC she opened the window and listened to the soothing sounds of the fountain in the garden.

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She opened them and looked down at the brilliant emerald glittering on her finger. Christopher wore a very unusual ring on his right hand, a silver tiger with emerald eyes.

  There had been signs, hints, but she’d never made the connection. What had he told her, that Aunt Tam and Uncle Edward had found him in Calcutta picking pockets? Oh, how she wished he hadn’t. Wished she hadn’t insisted on knowing where he was going. Her original theory was correct. Christopher wasn’t acquainted with The Tiger. He was The Tiger. And while it was one thing to have a thief for an acquaintance, it was another to consider marrying one especially when one had a father just dying to send him up river.

  Chapter Thirty

  Gabby trailed down the beautiful old spiral staircase, her hand resting on the satin-smooth wooden rail. A wall-mounted crystal sconce bathed the stairs in soft light.

  Reaching the bottom, Gabby went straight to the den and poured herself a glass of white wine from the refrigerator hidden behind the desk.

  She took her glass and sank into an overstuffed chair. As she sipped, memory flooded back, her globe, the shop, Christopher stealing it back, her pursuit of Christopher.

  The mellow white liquid slid down her throat. She grimaced. She may have not been quite so quick to give pursuit if she knew she was chasing the premier cat burglar not only in the
country but of all Europe. And she sure as hell wouldn’t have become engaged to him.

  She started to slip off the ring, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do it, as she remembered his face as he talked about the little boy that stole to survive. No one else knew about that and now she knew why. But damn it there was no good reason for him to be stealing now.

  She started to sip her wine and realized the glass was empty. She got up and walked to the fridge and brought the bottle back with her.

  Gabby watched the clear liquid cascade into the glass then took another swallow.

  A scratching at the door alerted her that she was not alone. She got up, weaving only slightly and opened the door. Jericho followed by Ned came rushing in. At least, Ned rushed. Jericho made a more dignified entrance, weaving in and out of her legs.

  “Damn it, he doesn’t need to be stealing anymore. He’s not that starving little boy.” She walked back as best she could with Jericho making a nuisance of himself and plopped into the chair.

  Her headache forgotten Gabby continued to ponder the situation until the bottle was empty. At that point she fell asleep the empty bottle dangling from her index finger.

  Jericho hopped up on Gabby’s lap. The high incessant yowling didn’t disturb her. When Jericho cleverly deduced he wasn’t going to be fed, he circled her lap several times then plopped down and went to sleep, knocking the wine bottle off her finger in the process. It rolled across the oriental carpet and came to rest in front of the fireplace.

  Ned whined at the unfairness of it all and lay down on her feet. He licked a red lacquered toe and then fell asleep. And that’s how Aunt Tam found them early in the morning when she opened the den door.

  Tamara smiled as she took in the scene of dissipation. Ned saw her first. He lifted his head from Gabriella’s feet, his tail beating furiously from side to side. He got up and came over to be petted. “Let’s hope your mistress doesn’t have a drinking problem,” she whispered as she patted the fuzzy head.

  “Woof.”

  “I didn’t really think so.”

  Jericho opened one blue eye, then the other. He got up and stretched, hoisting his tail in the air, then jumped to the floor and came over, demanding to be fed. The movement caused Gabriella to drop her left hand to her side. Her hand sparkled like a meteor moving through the sky.

  Tamara’s eyes widened and she tiptoed over to Gabby trying to stay on her feet as the animals adhered themselves to her legs as she walked.

  Her pale pink, floor-length dress whispered as she bent down beside Gabby and studied the ring. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. Oh Christopher, my dear boy, you must love this young woman very much.

  She got up, her knees only creaking slightly and went hurrying out to find Beatrice. She grabbed the door frame to keep from landing on her keister as Jericho sped in front of her his brown tail waving in the air then put on the brakes as Ned stopped in front of him to sniff the air.

  They all sniffed then as one followed the smell of coffee, bacon, eggs and beignets to the kitchen.

  Beatrice stood at the gleaming silver topped stove.

  “Beatrice, come quickly, come quickly.”

  Beatrice whirled around as fast as one carrying an extra thirty pounds around her girth can. “Is something wrong, Miz James?”

  “No, no. On the contrary.” Tamara knew her color was high and she was dancing about like a child. “Come on.”

  Beatrice slid two cast iron skillets to the back burners and turned off the stove. She wiped her hands on her immaculate white apron.

  “Oh, Beatrice, do come on.” Tamara danced from one foot to the other all but wringing her hands.

  The foursome trooped back down the hall. Pictures of relatives that went back farther than the Civil War lined the hall. One particular gentleman with white hair and a handlebar mustache looked at them disdainfully.

  “What is it, Miz James?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Tamara opened the door. The animals pushed past her. Beatrice was more considerate but was right on her heels. The first thing Beatrice saw was the empty wine bottle. “Does that child have a drinking problem?”

  “Let’s hope not because I believe she is shortly to join the family.” She pointed to Gabby’s left hand.

  Beatrice clapped her hands over her mouth. “Lawks a mighty.” She went over for a closer look.

  Gabby sniffed. Her nose must still be inebriated. She was getting two succinct aromas blending together, bacon and lavender. Now if it was bacon and eggs or lavender and chamomile that would make more sense. She opened her left eye a fraction of an inch then hastily closed it. Two gargoyles were bent over her. No, that couldn’t be right.

  She blinked and this time opened both eyes. Her vision cleared. No, not gargoyles, Beatrice and Tamara. “Good morning,” she croaked. They took a hasty step back. She must have a nasty case of morning mouth.

  Why were they beaming at her? Or were they crying? It was hard to tell.

  She looked around still a bit fuzzy. Where was she? Gabby saw the wine bottle resting against the marble fireplace and memory came flooding back. “Oh, my God.”

  She sat up and Tamara hugged her. “Oh, my dear child. I’m so happy.” The filmy material of Tamara’s dress whispered against her ear. And she smelled, ah, lavender.

  Beatrice bent down and wrapped huge coffee-colored arms around her pressing her face against a huge starchy bosom. Ah, bacon. “I’m real happy for you, Ms. Gabriella.”

  Oh dear. She struggled up from the chair and the arms trying to embrace her then abruptly sat back down, grabbing her head. “Coffee. And aspirin. I need coffee and aspirin.” Unfortunately she couldn’t blame the pounding in her head on a migraine. She’d drunk that away.

  “I’ll get it, Ms. Gabriella.”

  “I can get it, Beatrice. Just give me a moment.” Gabby came from a blue-collar, middle-class family and was proud of it. And acutely uncomfortable being waited on.

  “Nonsense. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

  “Thank you.”

  Both Gabby and Tamara watched Beatrice leave the room with the dignity of an old ship, whose white sails were billowed outward to catch the wind.

  Tamara squeezed Gabby’s hand. Next to Gabby’s, it was childlike in size. “I couldn’t be happier dear.” She sank gracefully into the burgundy leather couch to the right of Gabby’s chair. “Where’s Christopher, dear?”

  “I believe in Calcutta.” She watched Tamara closely for her reaction.

  A frown flitted across Tam’s features then was gone.

  “So when is the big day?”

  Gabby squirmed in her chair, her head pounding. She really needed that coffee. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”

  Tamara looked pointedly at the ring, but remained silent.

  As the silence stretched, Gabby felt compelled to break it. “That is to say, we haven’t set a date.”

  Tamara tilted her head, a look of rapt attention on her face.

  This woman would be perfect for the good cop/bad cop routine. It was all Gabby could do not to spill her guts. Just as she started to open her mouth, Beatrice came into the room carrying a silver carafe of coffee, cream and sugar dishes, two porcelain flowered cups on a silver tray and a bottle of aspirin. The woman tilted from side to side as she walked. Beatrice was overweight and had varicose veins.

  Beatrice sat the tray down and beamed at Gabby.

  Gabby grimaced. Obviously, being Christopher’s intended placed her on a whole new strata as far as Beatrice was concerned.

  The maid poured the steaming brown liquid and handed a cup to Tamara and one to Gabby.

  Gabby buried her nose in it. Ah chicory, New Orleans’ staple. She looked hopefully around for the beignets.

  Beatrice correctly interrupted the glance. “I’ll be serving them at breakfast, dear.”

  Oh yes, her status had definitely been elevated.

  Tamara said in that absentminded way of hers,
“We’ll be there in just a moment, if you want to place everything on the table. And feel free to join us, Bee.”

  Beatrice’s eyes widened, offense written on every line of her well-padded body. “As if I would ever do that.”

  Tamara gave a long-suffering sigh. “Bee, this isn’t Tara, I’m not Scarlett O’Hara and the War Between the States ended a long, long time ago. Besides you know you hail from free men and women. New Orleans never was caught up in that disgusting slavery issue like the rest of the South. Well some were but there were a lot of free people of color that roamed the streets before the war.” She threw up her hands, “Why am I even discussing this. You know you’re family, Bee, albeit the working portion, but family nonetheless.”

  Without any trace of the accent she normally donned like a cloak, Beatrice said, “I know that Ms. Tamara. It’s why I’d never leave you.” Then she winked. “That and the ungodly amount of money you pay me.” Having got in the last word she walked out of the den, closing the door behind her.

  Tamara shook her head. “She’s as stubborn as a mule, that one, but I love her dearly.”

  Gabby smiled. “It’s obvious she reciprocates those emotions ten-fold.”

  While Gabby added sugar and cream to her coffee, Tamara leaned back against the couch. “Now dear suppose you tell me what’s wrong?”

  Gabby stirred her coffee until a liquid whirlwind formed in the center of the cup. “What do you mean?”

  Tamara waited.

  Gabby took a gulp of the sweet chicory and nearly scalded herself. She waved her hand rapidly back and forth in front of her mouth.

  “I suggest sipping it next time, dear.”

  Gabby sighed. “How well do you know Christopher?”

  Tamara’s dainty silver eyebrows rose. “Well enough.”

  “Define well enough.”

  Tamara smiled. “Spoken like a reporter. I know he is no angel. I know if he were to do something that you or I wouldn’t approve of, he would have a good reason for it.”

  Gabby went fishing. “Such as Calcutta?”

  Tamara paused in the act of pouring coffee. “What did he tell you about Calcutta?”