by Cindy Combs
Blair could certainly understand that. "Why didn't you tell me, then? I was an adult by that time. I thought we were supposed to be straight with each other."
Obie arched an eyebrow. "Do you tell Naomi and me everything that's happened to you since you started hanging around the police version of the A-Team? Have you even told me the real reason you flushed your doctorate and your career down the tubes? I mean, 'excitement'? I'm supposed to buy that?"
"That is so not the same..."
"Isn't it? Carrying a gun and a badge is a long way from Anthropology. C'mon! I thought we were supposed to be straight with each other."
Blair turned back towards the window. "Things got--complicated..."
Obie asked again, "Was it because of Jim?"
Blair rubbed his eyes, resisting the urge to bang his forehead against the dashboard. "I'm not a six year old kid with a case of hero-worship. No one 'made' me become a cop." Obie could always spot him in a lie, but he couldn't tell Obie the whole truth. What could he say, then? He quit to protect Jim? Yeah, right, and prove Obie's point... "I started working with the Cascade P.D. because Jim agreed to share some of his experiences with the Chopec in Peru with me for my research. I did some consultant work with the department in exchange for the help. When Rainier gave me the boot, Simon offered me a full-time job."
"But your doctorate--"
"My research could have caused problems for some of my test subjects if their identities were revealed. I promised that I'd protect them, but it eventually became apparent that I couldn't. You see, the University didn't care that publishing my work could destroy people, just as long as they could bask in the glory of what a great researcher they'd produced. When I realized that, I had to make a choice between my doctorate and keeping my word. What would you have done?"
Oh, that was a cheap shot. "But a cop, Blair?"
Blair smiled. "I know it can be dangerous, and I accept the risks because I'm doing something I believe in."
Obie felt the weight of his own words thrown back into his face. Stunned, he pulled into a parking space near the back door to Blair's building. Even after setting the parking brake, he couldn't come up with an adequate response that didn't sound hypocritical.
Megan stood on the sidewalk, waiting. "What kept you boys?"
"Obie never drives faster than twenty-five." Blair had to work at opening the passenger door. When it popped open, Brody bounded over Blair and leaped for the sidewalk.
"Have you seen what I'm driving? I'm afraid the thing will fly apart if I drive any faster." Obie circled around to the passenger side of the van. Blair had already slid open the main door. "Oh, man, it looks so empty in here." Obie stared unhappily at what was left of his meditation kits. "The Feds have all my best kits. I swear, if there's one scratch on any of them, I'm writing to my Congressman... it's still Tuberman, right?"
"I think you're off by a decade or three," Blair answered.
Megan was counting the boxes, dismayed by the number still left inside. They were going to have to open and check each one. "How many of these kits do you have?"
"Minus the ones sold or lifted by Feds and skittish young thieves, about eighty," Obie guessed.
Megan sighed, "This could take a bit."
* * *
Major Crimes
Jim sighed as he hung up the phone. He didn't have any luck reaching his Interpol contact, while his FBI contact had been nearly as confused as he was. What on earth is going on? Thinking hard, Jim decided he had one more source to check out before going home to meditation kits that probably contained sage.
* * *
Obie's van
Blair wearily leaned back against the seat, staring at the opened kit in front of him. "That's all of them and no diamond. We must be missing something. Are you sure it wasn't in one of the boxes you sold?"
Obie shook his head. "Positive."
"Did you keep a record of people you sold kits to today?" Blair inquired, reaching for a notebook.
"Well..."
Blair threw up his hands in disgust. "You didn't, did you?"
Obie sighed, then confessed, "I didn't sell any to keep a record of, okay?"
Blair looked surprised. "Oh."
To smooth over the awkward moment, Megan gently inserted, "Maybe Mallory was wrong-- maybe it's in the van, not in the boxes. Did you notice anything unusual about the van when you left the wharf?"
Obie paused a moment in thought. "Wait a minute--one of the boxes had a broken latch. I think I stuck it under the seat so I'd remember not to sell it before it was fixed." He slipped out the side to enter through the passenger's door. Drawing the box out from under the seat, Obie gently opened the slices. "Oh, ho, man, anyone want to run off to Rio? How about it, Meg?" Leaning forward, he held up a fist-size diamond so that Megan and Blair could see it.
"Let me see it," Megan requested. After Obie handed it to her, she flicked on her pocket flashlight to examine it. "Simply breath-taking. Must be well over 45 carats, cut is perfect, colorless, oh dear, I really need my loupe to determine clarity." Megan studied the stone a moment more. "You know, diamonds this large are usually well-known, especially if they are missing. Sandy, mind if I use your computer?" At Blair's nod, Megan jumped out and rushed towards the building doors.
Obie queried, "'Sandy'?"
Blair shot him a glare. "Don't start."
* * *
Downtown Cascade
It hadn't taken long to finish writing up the report on the incident at the fair. Jim made a quick detour to the nearest Fleet Foot store, then headed downtown. Sure enough, Jim found the bedraggled man at his favorite donut shop. Jim crossed the room and, by way of greeting, deposited a shoebox on the table in front of the man.
Sneaks looked at the shoebox, momentarily startled, then glanced up at Jim. He broke out in an ear to ear grin. Sneaks shook his hand enthusiastically. "Hey, if it isn't my favorite superhero of Cascade's finest! What's up, man? No sidekick today?"
Jim clapped him on the shoulder, then took a seat across the table. "I think he's trying to protect his new Nikes." Despite the odd payment that Sneaks demanded in exchange for information, Jim knew that not much went on in the city--especially around the waterfront--that the snitch didn't hear about.
Sneaks eagerly peeked into the shoebox. "So, what'd you bring me? Ooh, air pump high tops! How 90s! Very nice. Whatever you want to know, it must be important, eh?"
Jim moved the shoes just out of reach. "First things first: what have you heard about a mob- accountant and a jewel thief being killed on the waterfront last night?"
The snitch thought about that for a moment. "I didn't know about a jewel thief, but I do know about the unfortunate Mr. Acampos. Deplorable taste in shoes. Loafers with tassels, what's that about?" Jim raised an eyebrow impatiently. Sneaks continued, "Let's just say that those of us seeking refuge on the wharf have had to look elsewhere for accommodations. And I don't just mean because of the Feds poking around."
"The Dante Family?"
"For starters. However, there is another, shall we say, 'family' interested." Sneaks looked around, making sure none of the few people in the donut shop was too interested in their chat. "Do you know the Tang family?" Jim shook his head. "Well, I'm not surprised. They're nothing if not discreet about their activities. They came to Cascade four years ago to get ahead of the Reds, if you know what I mean."
"Before Hong Kong was handed back to the Chinese?"
"Apparently, Mr. Tang didn't want to share his ill-gotten gain with the communists. But that's just part of it. Word is that Mr. Acampos was on that wharf to receive property belonging to the Tang family. I don't know what it was, but the Tangs have been very determined in their efforts to track down those responsible for its theft. The assumption is that Acampos had something to do with it, which is why he met an unfortunate end last night... and that the Dante family must have been the ones interested in acquiring the misappropriated property."
A mob war. Great. Jim let t
hat sink in, then sighed. This gets better and better.
Sneaks was staring at the shoebox, bouncing a bit. "Does that help you?"
"It might. Thanks, man." Jim passed the box over to him.
Sneaks all but dove for the high tops, "Anytime, detective."
* * *
Twenty minutes later, outside Ellison's loft
There it is! Taylor nearly wilted with relief when he spotted the rusty van in the parking lot. Tossing the electronic tracker into the Escort's passenger's seat, he searched for a place to park.
It had been a long afternoon for the thief. After dodging the cop at the fair, Taylor managed to grab a bus to the hotel, only to find that there were Interpol agents swarming around it. For a couple of minutes, Taylor debated on simply skipping the country and finding a new identity. However, a phone call from the Dante family's new representative squashed that thought. It was bad enough having the Tangs mad at him, he didn't need the Dantes after him, too. So he had fallen back to plan C--locate the van again and wait until it was unoccupied and isolated. Thankfully, he had had the foresight at the fair to plant one of his toys on an uncorroded spot of the van's back bumper.
After driving for nearly two hours before picking up the signal, it looked like Taylor's bad luck streak had finally turned. The lot was quiet and Dr. Sandburg was nowhere to be seen. Shaking off his growing fatigue, Taylor slipped around the parked cars to his goal, ducking behind a Forerunner when an ancient blue and white truck drove through. The young thief quickly checked the van windows to make sure no one was inside, then pulled out his set of skeleton keys. It would probably be faster to break a window, but Taylor didn't want to damage Dr. Sandburg's vehicle. He felt bad enough for having to punch him.
"Looking for something?"
Startled, Taylor spun around to find the cop from the fair. The blue eyes seemed to drill a hole through him as an evil smile let the young thief know how much the man was enjoying the situation. Feeling his dwindling energy flow out of him with the slump of his shoulders, Taylor knew he had just crashed and burned. Sorry, Dein.
* * *
Ellison's Loft
After borrowing a magnifying glass from Blair, Megan curled up on the couch to study the diamond and compare it to the information on the internet.
"I didn't know you knew about diamonds," Blair commented as he placed a cup of tea on the coffee table beside her.
Megan shrugged absently as she continued to work. "Australia is one of the leading producers of diamonds. I learned a lot after a couple of diamond theft cases."
Blair studied the stone, amazed at how easily it picked up the light in the room. "How much do you think it's worth?"
"Oh, at least twenty million of your American dollars."
Obie nearly choked on the herbal tea he was drinking. "Million? Man, I know some small countries that could survive on that for a decade. Maybe two."
"Yeah, but what we really need to know is who does it belong to and why was it in your van," Blair pointed out.
"Maybe Mike Tyson here can shed some light on that."
Everyone looked up to see Jim enter the loft, pushing a handcuffed Mallory ahead of him. Defensively, Taylor checked out the others in the room, only to blanch when he recognized Obie and his black eye. Brody planted himself between the thief and his master, snarling viciously. Unperturbed, Jim steered Taylor towards the couch. "Sit down, slugger."
"Where'd he come from?" Obie wanted to know.
"He seemed to have lost something in your van, Obie," Jim said.
"Ah, something like this maybe?" Blair held up the diamond, hiding his grin at the young thief's dismay.
Obie crossed the room to take a seat on the coffee table. "When you said you had financial problems, I guess you weren't kidding." Taylor didn't meet his eyes, stared down at the floor instead.
"Oh you don't know the half of it," Jim told him. "I just talked to our old friend, Sneaks. It cost me a good pair of high tops, but he told me a very interesting story about how Acampos was on that wharf waiting for Dein Mallory to bring him something that belonged to the Tang Family. Family in the Don Corleone sense of the word." If that was news to Taylor, the young man didn't show it.
Obie shook his head. "You stole a diamond that large from one mob family to give to another mob family and then lost it? Kid, you've got bigger problems than just money."
Jim was still scrutinizing the young man with one of his unnerving stares. "I'm willing to bet that the Tangs had something to do with your cousin's murder. I need to know what you know about the diamond and what happened last night."
Taylor still stared at the floor. "I want my lawyer."
"We're trying to help you, Taylor," Blair explained softly.
Taylor said nothing.
"What about your cousin, Taylor? Right now, the Feds think you killed him," Jim pressed.
Horrified, Taylor looked up. "I wouldn't--I'd never--!"
"I know that." It was Obie who answered. He steadied a stern uncle gaze at Blair. "Do we need these cuffs?"
"Yeah, I think so," Jim stated firmly.
Obie spared him an irritated glare, then turned back to Taylor. "Taylor, I know you didn't kill your cousin. But if you don't help Jim and Blair," Obie nodded to each detective in turn, "find out who did, you're going to go down for it. We want to find whoever did kill Dein, but that just isn't going to happen if we don't know all the facts. If you've got any idea what went on at that wharf last night or who killed Dein, you've got to tell them."
Taylor considered this a long while before grudgingly agreeing. "I don't know who killed him... We were on the wharves to deliver The Dawn to Acampos." Taylor bobbed his head towards the diamond, sending Megan into a frenzy on the computer. "Supposedly, the Tangs unfairly obtained The Dawn from the Dantes, and the Dantes wanted it back. It's supposed to be lucky or something." Taylor snorted, looking down. "It wasn't lucky for Dein. I was doing surveillance a couple of piers over when someone came up from behind, hit me, knocked me out... so I never saw his face. But I've got his voice on tape. Dein..." the young man's voice cracked. Jim could read the grief and fatigue in his face. "He, he always had me back him up when he met a buyer. You never know who's going to pull a double-cross, can't be too careful. We taped all the deliveries. Dein wore a wire, I ran the recorder."
"He was wired last night?" Jim asked.
Taylor nodded. "When I woke up, when I realized what had happened..." The boy took a deep, shaky breath. Obie reached over and clasped his shoulder, offering what comfort he could. "...The recorder got everything. Including Dr. Sandburg's license plate number. It was the last thing Dein said over the wire before he..." Taylor finally lost his composure. Obie rubbed the tense shoulder as the young man fought tears. Jim and Blair traded glances over their heads.
Megan softly broke the gloomy silence. "I found it. The Dawn was originally owned by Dennis and Patsy St. John in New Zealand. They loaned it for display at several museums in Australia up until they died in 1985. It says the diamond went to a relative in the U.S. in 1986. However, when that relative died in a car accident in 1990, The Dawn was missing from his estate. No one knows what happened to it."
"Perhaps used as payment on a debt to the Dante family?" Blair suggested. "Certainly no one would want a record of that kind of transaction."
After a moment's pause, Jim gently informed Taylor, "We're going to need that tape."
Taylor shook his head. "No, no way, man."
"Taylor--" Obie said.
"That tape is the only thing I have to bargain with." With the cops, with the mob...
"We can get you a deal. We can make sure you're protected," Blair put in.
Taylor laughed outright. "I don't trust cops."
"I'm not a cop. Do you trust me?" Obie asked. "We're the best friends you have right now, Taylor. I don't usually trust cops either, but I'll give you my word. Jim, Blair, and Megan, they will find out who killed Dein. And we'll all go to bat for you with the court, but
you've got to meet us halfway, man."
Taylor looked at each in turn, then back to Obie, his indecision plain. "In my car. Down one block. In the glove box."
* * *
Ten minutes later, Jim returned with the tape, Simon following him in. "Where is our 'protected witness'?" the captain asked.
"He's in on my bed," Blair replied, nodding his head towards the doors. "Uncle Obie's in there with him, filling him up with spiced ginseng tea and talking to him about his cousin." He chuckled to himself at Taylor's reaction to the first sip of Obie's spiced cure-all tea. It had been all Taylor could do, as his eyes watered, not to spit the stuff out. He noticed Jim tilt his head a moment, then continue towards the stereo.
Simon frowned. "Is that wise? That kid's a flight risk if I've ever seen one."
"No worries, Captain," Megan replied with a large grin. "I handcuffed him to the bed."
Blair chuckled again, remembering his uncle's face as the older man had struggled to protest while still taken by Megan's charms. "Besides, I think Taylor's too tired to try much right now. I think everything's catching up to him."
"So let's hear what started his nightmare," Jim suggested as he punched the 'on' button. Together, the detectives and their captain listened to the final minutes of Dein Mallory's life.
As the tape ran out, Blair cleared his throat. "Sounds like Acampos knew his murderer."
"Yet Dein Mallory didn't," Megan added. "Or else he would have tried to warn Taylor with more than a vague, 'watch your back'."
"That still doesn't give us much," Simon pointed out. "All we really have is a double homicide and a witness who was unconscious during the killings. In fact, even now the only thing we could possibly charge Taylor Mallory with is delivery of stolen goods, and then we have no proof the diamond was stolen."
