Diamond Rings Are Deadly Things

by Rachelle J. Christensen

  “I bet you’re a fun aunt.”

  “It’s not hard to impress a three year old.” I shrugged. “What about your family?”

  “I don’t have any nieces or nephews yet. But I’m curious. Does your family wish you had started your business in Rupert?”

  I leaned forward, impressed that he had remembered where I grew up from the brief introduction I’d given him on our first date. “My family has really been rooting for me to succeed here with my wedding planning business, especially since . . .” I stopped before I mentioned Briette’s murder. Dallas seemed like the type who would understand, but it was still hard for me to talk about that, and after the week I’d had, I didn’t trust my emotions. Dallas looked expectant, and I coughed before continuing. “Especially since they know how important my dreams are to me.”

  “That’s wonderful. So did your family help you get started up here?”

  “They did—each in their own way. My mom tends to go a little overboard with things, and she can be a bit overbearing, but it all works out. Dad and Wes helped me move, and Jenna helped me with a few contacts she has through her business. She pitches in with the crafting blog I run with my mom.”

  “Crafts?” Dallas’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion, and I couldn’t suppress my giggle.

  “Good thing my mom’s not here now. She’d find the nearest computer and show you our site and what’s trending on Pinterest.”

  Dallas appeared mystified. “So, like sewing and those little statues you paint?”

  “Not really. Think anything creative and beautiful for the home, for the kids, for the stomach. We love to make cards, share sewing tips, gardening ideas, cleaning tips, recipes—even a little crochet. My website is called mashedpotatoesandcrafts.com.”

  Dallas laughed. “Serious?”

  “Yep, we do everything from cooking to crafting, so it fits. I’ve actually posted some specialty items for my weddings that my mom and I created.”

  Dallas shook his head. “It’s amazing what you can find online, huh?”

  “Totally. My family gets pretty excited about crafts. My mom, especially. She’s always coming up with new ideas for things that I might be able to use for a wedding or bridal shower. Which reminds me, I’d better hurry or I’ll never get everything on my list done.”

  “I’m glad we could see each other tonight.” Dallas interlaced my fingers with his as we walked outside. “I’d like to take you back to the Roosevelt Grille while I can still get the employee discount.”

  “I would love to go with you,” I said. And I meant it. The food was fabulous there, and the sugar I’d just consumed made me feel a bit giddy on the heels of the stressful day I had endured. That was the only explanation I could think of for agreeing to another date, besides the obvious one that I was starting to like Dallas more than I wanted to admit. We leaned against my Mountaineer, and he put his arm around me. Scooting closer to him, I speculated what he was working up the nerve to say or possibly do. Somehow I doubted he would kiss me in the parking lot of Frozen Tundra Treats.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go,” he murmured.

  “Me too. Believe me, I’d much rather do anything than what I have ahead of me tonight, picking out thousands of tiny threads.”

  Dallas laughed and then leaned closer, his face inches from mine. “Thanks for giving me a chance, Adri. I really like you. I get nervous around girls as pretty as you, but I want to get this right.”

  “You’re doing fine so far.”

  He smiled, and I noticed his teeth were small and even. His flawless skin was a reminder of his Asian heritage. I admired his startlingly green eyes, and Dallas chose that moment to close the distance between us and brush a feather-light kiss across my lips. Before I could react, the kiss was over, and he pulled me into an embrace. I relaxed into his chest, enjoying the closeness of the moment and wishing he would kiss me again. Then I stepped back.

  “When can I see you again?” Dallas asked.

  “Maybe Monday? As long as I’m caught up on everything.” I pushed back the loose tendrils of hair tickling the sides of my face. “Thanks for tonight.”

  Dallas rubbed his stomach. “Definitely my pleasure.”

  As I drove home, I relived the nanosecond-long first kiss and felt a keen disappointment. There weren’t any fireworks yet, but maybe next time there would be time to light the fuse. If Dallas hadn’t been so nervous, I might’ve even invited him over for a movie while I worked on Natalie’s bridal shower details. I frowned. Oh, well. At least this way there would be nothing to distract me from getting the job done.

  Lorea texted me as I was changing my clothes.

  So? How was date #3?

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about Dallas, so I didn’t want to give her too much info. My hesitant nature in the dating arena had me overanalyzing everything, and that kiss hadn’t quite swept me off my feet.

  Short. Sweet. One peck. Now back to work.

  Hmm, he def. likes you, sounds like you still don’t know. Okay, I won’t bug you. Get that hem done!

  Lorea had me figured out. I pulled on a pair of green-and-white cotton pajama pants. They had been a gift from my grandma, and I felt so relaxed I wished I could just fall into bed. But first I needed to make sure that all the windows and doors were securely locked, and then I felt for the bulge in the quilt. The diamonds were still safe. With careful steps, I walked into my spare bedroom to check on Natalie’s gown. I tried to laugh at myself for sneaking around my own house, but I was too worried for laughter.

  The dress was just as I had left it. I reexamined the hem and spent some time trimming and pulling out the remnants of thread that had held the hem together. When the task was finally complete I tucked the gown away. I walked through my house again, double-checking the locks. Satisfied that my home was secure, I crawled into bed thinking about my plans for the next morning.

  Chapter 11

  Conversation Starters

  Print quotations on paper silverware wrappers or along the bottom of place cards for fun conversation starters. Example: “Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without one.” —Chinese proverb

  Courtesy of www.mashedpotatoesandcrafts.com.

  My dreams were haunted by wedding gowns that were all too heavy to lift because they were weighted down with smuggled diamonds. The morning sunshine was a welcome change from the nightmares. I changed into a pair of old jeans and a long-sleeved, quick-dry shirt that felt soft against my skin. On my way out of the house, I grabbed a banana and a granola bar. There was always a box of water bottles in my trunk; growing up in the Idaho desert near the boonies had taught me well. I retrieved a bottle and guzzled half of it before sliding into the cool interior of my vehicle. The Mountaineer had a great stereo system, and I selected one of my favorite running mixes for the ride over to the shop. What I was about to do would not be pleasant.

  The music heightened my spirits, and I was able to shed a little worry as I drove. Eight minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot behind Pyper’s Dream Weddings. A quick walk-through of the building calmed my frazzled nerves—everything was as I’d left it the day before.

  Rolling my shoulders back, I headed outside. I eyed the garbage cans lined up behind the shops and cringed. Garbage day was Monday, so they were full and foul smelling this clear Saturday morning. The police had performed a perimeter search of the area after the break-in, including a search of these trash cans and dumpsters, but they were looking for wedding gowns. I needed to search for any remnants of material that a male police officer, who had no idea about fabric, might have missed. Hoping for a clue to the whereabouts of Sylvia’s gown, specifically, I stared at the dumpster and swallowed. The pair of blue latex gloves I’d pulled on didn’t seem like enough of a barrier for searching through trash, so I put an old pair of work gloves over them.

  With a shudder, I checked the trash from my shop. Not surprised that I didn’t find anything of significance, I moved toward the next building. It was o
ne of many realty agencies in Ketchum, and I figured it was a good place to continue my search. I lifted the lid of the big black garbage can and began sifting through the trash. Most of the bags were white or clear plastic, so it was easier work than I’d feared it would be. Breathing through my mouth instead of my nose made the task bearable, and because the dress had been stolen in the last two days, I didn’t feel the need to dig down to the bottom of the garbage bins. It only took a few minutes, and I moved to the next bin.

  Mayfield Jewelers didn’t have much trash, so I pretty much eye-balled that can. I was just closing the lid when something caught my eye. A corner of lovely cream and turquoise cardstock, similar to my company’s letterhead peeked out from underneath a cardboard box. The lid banged against the back of the can when I threw it open. Leaning into the trash can, I grunted at the unpleasant feeling of pressure against my ribs from the hard edge of the container.

  My fingers grazed the corner of the paper, and I stretched my arms just enough to get hold of it and pull. The paper wouldn’t budge, and I let out a cry of frustration. I would have to tip the can on its side. I prepared to push the garbage can over, but something brushed against my leg, and I shrieked.

  “Meow.”

  I looked down to see an innocent black kitten nuzzling my leg. I nudged it away. “You scared me to death. Don’t you know you’re not supposed to sneak up on someone when they’re digging through trash?”

  The kitten paid no attention to my scolding and wound its way between my ankles. I stooped and picked it up. I was partial to cats—growing up on a farm we had plenty of them—and this one was quite friendly. I could tell it was at least three months old and didn’t need its mama anymore. “Who do you belong to?” I asked as I examined the white markings on its throat and feet. I scratched between his ears, and he purred and snuggled against my chest. The vibrations from his purr brought back hundreds of memories of my farm-girl days when I loved playing with kittens near the haystack on our farm. This one didn’t have a collar, but for how friendly he was, I imagined he belonged to someone. I set him down and eyed the garbage again.

  “Meow.” The kitten peered up at me and then batted at my leg as I put my hands against the garbage can and pushed. With a loud thump, the can landed on the pavement, and some of the trash bags fell out. I squatted near the opening and looked for that elusive piece of paper. I inhaled sharply when I found not one page but a whole stack of pages with turquoise and purple trim. They were my pages, with the Pyper’s Dream Weddings logo, and each of them had three holes punched in the side. One of the pages had writing on it, and I held it with a trembling hand.

  Simple, yet elegant and close to nature describes Natalie’s dream wedding.

  My handwriting flowed across the bottom of the page. I brushed off some dirt, and my eyes flicked to the words written on the top lines.

  Sunshine, blue skies, meadowlarks, silk, pink diamonds, pink glassware settings, Warm Springs, Brock . . .

  When I had first interviewed Natalie about what she wanted for her wedding day, I gave her two minutes to write down whatever came to mind. This was her list, and I knew it was also the third page of the wedding binder I had locked in my office safe.

  I glanced at the back door of Mayfield Jewelers and tried to swallow the knot in my throat. Then I shook my head. Walter wouldn’t have had anything to do with the crime. The thief probably just dumped what he didn’t want in the first trash can available. But even though I told myself that, it didn’t make sense that the thief would have cracked open my safe and disposed of its contents in the vicinity. Why hadn’t Tony found any of these pages before?

  The kitten pawed at the page in my hand, and I stroked his back absentmindedly. Then I pulled out my cell phone and called Detective Ford.

  “Yo, Adri. How are you?” Tony answered on the second ring, chipper even though it was only seven o’clock in the morning.

  “I’m going through the trash on the street behind my shop, and I found some of the contents of my safe in the can behind Mayfield Jewelers.”

  “I’m on my way,” Tony said. “Don’t touch anything until I get there.”

  “Too late, but I’m wearing gloves.”

  “Good girl. See you in ten.”

  So he was already at the station—three blocks away from my shop. He might be here in less than ten minutes, but I hated waiting, and some of the trash spilling out of one of the bags had soda cups dripping sticky liquid all over the rest of the garbage. I wanted to salvage as many of Natalie’s pages as I could.

  Gravel bit into the thin fabric of my running pants and pinched my knees as I leaned farther into the garbage can and collected the pages. Why were they loose? Wouldn’t the thief have chucked the whole binder at once, not seeing anything of value in my wedding plans?

  The stack of pages appeared a bit rumpled, and smears of dirt and debris clung to a few of them. I started putting them in order in an attempt to recall what might be missing. Soon there were sixteen pages of information about Natalie’s wedding stacked next to the kitten. I was relieved to have found the pages that were vital to creating a perfect wedding, but that relief vanished when I realized one of the pages was gone.

  I flicked through them again to see if I had missed it but knowing that I hadn’t. Wednesday just before closing, I had attached a picture of the layered-frill wedding gown Natalie had selected to the dress section of her binder. The page was covered with sketches, stapled fabric swatches, and clippings of dresses Natalie loved. That page was gone. So were the first and second pages, which contained all of Natalie and Brock’s contact information.

  Panic shot through my head as several different theories collided at once. The two dresses with shredded hem lines flicked through my mind. I recalled how heavy Sylvia’s dress felt, and then Lorea wondering how to lighten the underskirt.

  Did the thief know which dresses had diamonds sewn into them? Had he searched for Natalie’s dress, and not finding it, grabbed others that seemed similar? If the idea forming in my mind was correct, he now had proof that we were in possession of the smuggled diamonds. He also had Natalie’s contact information.

  Brock had hired bodyguards and had surveillance cameras installed at their homes after news of their engagement covered the tabloids. I felt that Natalie was safe, but her dress was not. I had to find somewhere secure to keep it until the big day.

  The kitten batted playfully at something inside the overturned garbage can. It looked like a scrap of material, and I leaned forward for a closer look. The kitten mewed softly and retreated farther inside.

  “Here, kitty, kitty,” I called.

  “Adri, what are you doing?”

  I screamed and sat upright—or tried to, but my head bumped the inside of the trash can. “Ouch.”

  “Are you okay?” Tony leaned over me and offered his hand.

  Rubbing my head, I scowled. “Why’d you sneak up on me like that?”

  He grinned. “I thought I told you not to touch anything.”

  “I had to. There was soda dripping all over my papers. I couldn’t just sit here and watch them get ruined.”

  Tony raised an eyebrow. “What did you find?”

  I showed him the stack of papers and told him that the personal information pages were missing, as well as the photo of Natalie’s wedding dress.

  “Hmm. I don’t think these were here Thursday. Were any other pages missing?”

  “I didn’t find the binder, and I know we had jotted down random notes and sketches on some other pages, but all of the vital wedding planning information is here.” My conscience nagged at me to spill the beans about the diamonds I had found, but I resisted.

  Tony pulled out a clear plastic sack marked ‘Evidence’ and dropped the pages inside.

  My shoulders slumped. “You have to take the pages, too?”

  “I can get photocopies of everything, and as soon as we’re finished with the investigation, they’ll be returned.”

  “So anyth
ing related to this crime has to go in for processing?”

  “Yes.” Tony eyed me curiously. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I need those other two gowns back so Lorea and I can salvage at least the bodice for a new dress. How soon can we have them?” I gave Tony my best stern glare which was supposed to be hiding my honest eyes screaming, I have diamonds in my house, and I should tell you about them but now I know for certain I can’t!

  Tony rubbed his forehead. “They said it’d be three weeks.”

  “Three weeks!”

  Tony held out his hands. “Not my fault. It takes a while to get test results back. This isn’t CSI Miami.”

  Any confession I might’ve made died on my lips. I couldn’t sabotage Natalie’s wedding. Three weeks. She would be married in three weeks, and the dress would be sent to the cleaners. I could offer to take care of that for her, and then I would tell Tony everything and hand the gown over to their crime lab.

  I often used the quilt in my front room to cozy up with a book and get lost in the pages. Good thing it was summertime because the quilt would have to stay put in my spare room. There would be no warm cozy feelings associated with my crime of withholding information from a criminal investigation.

  My actions might be wrong and dangerous, but I wasn’t going to let some criminal ruin my wedding business again. I had been on the threshold of success before Briette’s murder, and my career had been yanked out from under me. Every painstaking moment of detailed work had led to this chance of success for my business. Natalie was a sweet and genuinely nice person who deserved to have her happiness. Not to mention our own happiness in planning her wedding after all we had had to put up with from Sylvia Rockfort.