Marlee nodded. “Yeah, that was weird. Della never plays second fiddle to anybody. If she’s not in charge, then she’s not going to play. She almost seemed a bit withdrawn and defeated, but it could’ve been because of the beating.”
Bridget turned to look at her cousin. “Beating? What beating?”
Crap! I didn’t mention Ian slapping Della around and knocking me out, Marlee thought. “Ian punched Della a couple times trying to get her to tell them where she hid the emeralds. But then after they found them, they took Kelsey and left. Who’s ready for another beer?”
Marlee scurried into the kitchen without waiting for anyone to answer. By the time she returned with three bottles of beer, both Hector and Bridget were glaring at her. She silenced their criticism by holding up her hands. “It’s fine. This is why I didn’t tell you, Bridget. You’re both too overprotective. And for your information, this isn’t the first time I’ve been knocked out.”
“Oh, well, if you’re an expert on getting knocked unconscious, then I guess it’s fine for you to lie to us,” Bridget snapped.
She realized she wasn’t getting out of her lies, so Marlee did the best thing she could think of. She apologized. “I’m sorry. But as you can see, I’m fine. I’m not operating heavy machinery or doing any online day trading, so no one will get hurt.”
Hector and Bridget fussed a bit longer before letting Marlee off the hook, satisfied that she had paid her penance. “I’m staying overnight, and that’s final,” Bridget announced. “Unless that was what you planned to do,” she said turning toward Hector, demonstrating to Marlee’s satisfaction that Bridget was not interested in her cousin’s ex.
“No, he was not!” Marlee bristled.
“Then I’m staying. Just need to run back to my apartment and grab my toothbrush and pajamas.”
Once Bridget was gone, Hector said, “Would it really have been so bad for me to stay with you? I could’ve slept on the couch or in the spare room.”
Marlee laughed in spite of herself. “Oh, no. I fell for that a couple years ago. Remember?”
Hector met Marlee’s eyes and held her gaze. “I remember it quite well. I haven’t forgotten much about those times with you.”
“That’s in the past. What’s done is done,” Marlee took a deep breath and broke Hector’s intense stare. “Any leads on the buyer for the emeralds?”
“We know one guy who lives outside of town that makes fancy jewelry and sells it himself. Looks like he’s a big deal online. I checked out his website this afternoon, and we’ve been looking into him. So far, he seems to be legit. Has his permits in order and pays his taxes, no past or pending charges, no accusations of criminal activity. He doesn’t have any links to Midwestern State University or Marymount College, so I don’t know how he and Della would be connected.”
“Elmwood has fewer than thirty thousand people. If Conrad can make contact with a smuggler from Dublin, then a connection between two people in Elmwood isn’t that far-fetched. Nothing is too outlandish when it comes to Conrad Thayer. Or Della, for that matter.” Marlee began picking up the empty beer bottles, pizza box, and napkins. Hector rose to help her, but she waved him away.
She took her time cleaning up, stalling until Bridget returned with a tote bag and a backpack in hand. “Whoa, how long are you staying?”
Once Hector left, Marlee sat Bridget down for a serious discussion. “Please stop trying to get Hector and me back together. I’m not interested. Not after everything that’s happened. I understand your argument in support of him, but his cheating is just too big of a violation to overcome.”
With a nod of her head, Bridget agreed she was coming on too strong and would let Marlee make her own decisions. “Just try to keep an open mind, that’s all I ask.”
“Bridget,” Marlee warned. “Back off.” She handed her cousin clean sheets from the linen closet and directed her to the guest room.
“Marlee, come in here,” Bridget called out. “Kelsey left some of her stuff behind.”
“Duh! I can’t believe I forgot to look in here. She only had her backpack with her when Ian and Patrick kidnapped her.” The cousins rifled through the pockets of sweaters and pants on the floor and hanging in the closet.
Marlee opened the suitcase, which was balanced on a dining room chair Kelsey had brought in. Inside were the usual items; underwear, bras, socks, toiletries, and an extra pair of shoes. Running her hand around the inside pockets of the suitcase, she hit pay dirt.
“Ah-ha! Look what I found,” Marlee shouted in triumph, looking at the familiar face. “It’s Kelsey’s passport. They won’t be able to board a flight. At least not until they get a fake one.”
“That’s not the only thing she left behind,” Bridget said, turning around to face her cousin. She held up a dusty rose pouch with a drawstring. She opened the bag and dumped the contents onto the unmade sofa sleeper. Four deep-green jewels gleamed in the light.
“The emeralds!” Marlee gasped.
Let me tell you a little bit about emeralds.
Just kidding. I really don’t know anything about emeralds.
Chapter 25
Marlee and Bridget stared at each other, mouths wide open. Bridget, the first to regain her composure, asked, “How can the emeralds be here in your house? Ian took them from Della’s home.” Marlee shook her head and shrugged, unable to come up with a reasonable explanation.
Bridget returned the emeralds to the pouch, and Marlee placed it in a zip lock bag and put that inside a Tupperware bowl. She pulled a container of tuna and noodles from the fridge and ladled scoops of the casserole over the top of the plastic-encased jewels. “Nobody will think to dig through the tuna casserole if they come back looking for the emeralds.”
“Unless they get hungry while they’re searching the place.”
Marlee shot an amused look at her cousin recalling the slam levied against her by Conrad when he invited them to supper. “Conrad said he thought I could make a mean tuna hotdish. Little does he know! This might be the most expensive tuna casserole in the world.”
“I think we should call Hector and turn the emeralds over to him, just to be safe,” Bridget warned.
“For now, I’d rather keep him out of it. I want a little time to decide what to do. I have no idea if these are real or imitations.” Marlee was being pulled closer to Hector every day, and she didn’t want the situation to develop any further. And she didn’t care for his know-it-all attitude about the criminal justice system. She had a PhD in Criminology, after all.
“And how do you intend to figure that out? At least with diamonds, you can use them to cut glass. If they don’t cut the glass, then they’re cubic zirconia. With emeralds, I don’t know of any foolproof test,” Bridget said with confidence, having watched enough movies where a diamond was used to cut a hole in a window.
“First, I’m not sure if diamonds cutting glass is true or an urban legend. Second, I’m going to do an Internet search to learn everything I can about emeralds.” Marlee went to the kitchen and brewed a large pot of coffee, extra strong. “We’re pulling an all-nighter.”
After the cousins had changed into their most comfortable lounge clothes, they set up their laptops at the dining room table and started working on the emerald angle of the case. Bridget wore a gray Marymount college sweatshirt and yellow fleece pajama pants decorated with dragonflies while Marlee sported purple plaid flannel pants and a Guns ‘N Roses concert t-shirt. Pippa jumped on the table, sitting on Marlee’s computer and refusing to be moved until her snowshoe box lined with a fluffy blanket was placed atop the table. The grumpy cat immediately stopped growling and moved from the keyboard to her makeshift daybed, yawning as she nestled in with her face buried under her giant gray paws.
The online search-and-learn mission went on for an hour with little comment between Marlee and Bridget. A second pot of freshly brewed coffee steamed away in the kitchen. With a sigh, Marlee slammed her laptop closed. “I give up! I don’t know much more about emeralds now tha
n I did hours ago.”
“What a waste of time,” Bridget agreed. “Do you know any experts on jewels who could help us?”
Marlee laughed. “I really don’t travel in those circles. Other than taking them to one of the chain jewelry stores or a pawn shop, I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“A pawn shop would lowball you on the worth of them. If they even know anything about emeralds, that is.” Bridget slammed her laptop shut and retrieved the coffee pot from the kitchen, topping off each of their oversized mugs.
“Legally, a pawn shop would have to report it to the police if they thought the emeralds were stolen. Of course, I don’t know how legit the pawn shops are here in town.”
“Why won’t you ask Hector? He’d know someone, either through his work or informally, that could assess if the emeralds were real.” Bridget stared at her until Marlee began to fidget.
“Because the less Hector has to do with this, the better. We need him to help with locating Kelsey and helping to minimize the trouble she’s been involved in. But I think he’s getting the wrong idea about us, and I don’t want to go down that road again.” Marlee held up her hand before Bridget could speak. “And I’m not talking to you about getting back together with Hector again. That’s final!”
“Fine,” Bridget said in a crisp tone. “We won’t discuss He Who Shall Not Be Named.”
Marlee poured a generous amount of sugar-free non-dairy creamer into her fresh cup of coffee and stirred. She felt bad for snapping at Bridget again. This whole situation had her in a bad mood, and she continued taking it out on those closest to her. “Sorry, Bridget. I just don’t want to talk about Hector anymore. Let’s keep our focus on Kelsey and the emeralds, okay?”
Always quick to forgive, a smile spread across Bridget’s face. “Deal.”
The two sat in companionable silence, sipping their coffee and watching Pippa sleep. “Oh, shit! I just thought of someone who might be able to help us.” Marlee slammed her mug on the table, a wave of coffee sloshing over the side. She grabbed her old address book and thumbed through the pages until she landed on the right one.
“Who?”
“Denny Harlow, the attorney. Remember him? He’s the one who represented me when you were charged with stealing the urn from The Showcase exhibition a couple years ago.”
“Ugh, how could I forget about that?” Bridget shuddered thinking about the events leading to her arrest, the time she spent in jail, and her nearly ruined academic career. “You think he knows anything about emeralds?”
“No, but I bet he knows someone who does.”
“He’s still at work?” Bridget asked, noting the late hour.
“No, I have his home number. Denny never sleeps.”
After a quick conversation with the sleazeball attorney, Marlee relayed her findings to Bridget. “Denny says we should visit Pete Jackson. He used to work at Lemming Jewelry in town but was canned when the owner died, and his son took over. Pete hired Denny to pursue a civil case against the son, but it never materialized. Anyway, Denny says this guy might be able to answer some basic questions about emeralds. If he’s sober.”
Throwing winter coats on over their lounge clothes, Marlee and Bridget fled the house with the emeralds they removed from the baggie inside the tuna hotdish. They drove to downtown Elmwood and left the SUV in a parking lot adjoining a popular college bar. After three failed attempts, the duo located the apartment building where Pete Jackson reportedly lived.
There was no visible security system at the Old West Apartments. Marlee led the way upstairs to #207 and knocked on the rickety looking door. “Who is it?” asked a gravelly male voice.
“Um, we’re friends of Denny Harlow. He sent us here.”
Profanities were uttered as the man clomped toward the door. A combination of cigarette and marijuana smoke rolled out when he cracked the door to look at them. “Yeah, what do you want?”
“Can we please come in? We have something to discuss, and it’s of a delicate nature,” Bridget said, putting on her most professional face.
“And Denny sent you?”
“That’s right,” Marlee said, pleased that they were making inroads.
“Well, come on in,” he said, flinging the door wide open. He was in his forties, of medium build with thinning light brown hair. Pete Jackson was completely invisible in every way. His sagging gray sweatpants and his off-white t-shirt complimented the bland look of his apartment consisting of one brown lounge chair and a kitchen table with four mismatched chairs. A small, unmade bed was pushed against a wall of the tiny apartment, and an array of takeout containers, dirty dishes, and a near-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s rested beside the sink.
Pete pulled a kitchen chair into the center of the room, pulled off his shirt, and said with a huge grin, “Okay, I’m ready. Do you have your own music?”
“What?” Marlee shouted. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Put your shirt back on,” Bridget interrupted.
“You said Denny sent you, right?” He looked at them, his smile replaced by a confused look. “Aren’t you two strippers?”
“No, we’re not strippers!” Bridget roared.
“You pig! Why would you think that?” Marlee shrieked at the now-blushing man. “And put your damn shirt on.”
Pete scrambled to redress while the McCabe cousins continued to berate him. “Look, it’s an honest mistake. When my case was dismissed, Denny said he’d be sending me a gift one of these days. Then you two show up. You’re kind of old to be strippers, but hey, I’ll take any kind of naked.”
“Gross! We came here to ask you about emeralds.” Marlee and Bridget took turns filling him in on the conversation with Denny and their need for an expert in jewels.
Pete blushed deeply, as if he’d been caught doing the nasty by his grandmother. “I’m so sorry. I just thought…” he stammered. “Really, I’m just so sorry.” He continued apologizing until Bridget interrupted him.
“We forgive you. What we need to know is if these are real or fakes.” Bridget motioned for Marlee to produce the cloth pouch. She pulled it from her coat pocket and spilled the four stones onto the kitchen table.
Before he even looked at them with a naked eye, Pete went to a back room and returned with a jeweler’s loupe, allowing him to see the gems magnified. He picked up one of the glistening green stones and then another, giving each its due diligence as he turned each one in the overhead light.
“When you’re looking at an emerald, you want to evaluate the cut, clarity, color, and size,” Pete mumbled as he rolled each emerald around in his hand, inspecting every facet of the gemstones. “Color is of utmost importance and makes it easier to tell the quality of an emerald. This one right here is a dark green hue, but not dark enough to prevent the light from shining through.”
Marlee and Bridget nodded along, not knowing enough about emeralds or appraising to ask many questions.
“This is the strangest thing,” Pete said, transforming from a pervert to a jewel expert in the blink of an eye. “Two of these pieces are actual emeralds and two are fakes. Can you tell which is which?” He pushed all four stones toward the McCabe cousins.
Both women stared at the green rocks intently, picking them up and looking at them through the light. “I can’t see any difference,” Marlee said. “How can you tell which are real and which aren’t? They all look the same to me.”
“Look right here,” Pete said as he motioned to a stone he held in his palm. “See the color in this one? It has a slight yellow undertone. And it doesn’t have any flaws. It’s perfectly clear. Almost all real emeralds have lines or bubbles, sometimes, crystals in them. It’s part of the natural formation process.” He handed the loupe to Marlee to look for herself.
After taking turns examining each of the stones Marlee and Bridget both shook their heads. “I don’t see it,” Bridget said.
“Me neither. Are you sure?”
Pete made a face. “Of course, I’m
sure. I’ve been doing this for twelve years. And I’d still be at Lemming Jewelry if the new owner hadn’t illegally fired me. Then I wouldn’t be living in this shitty apartment while my ex-wife has the house.”
Neither Marlee nor Bridget took the bait. Pete seemed like the type of guy who would love an audience to vent his story of his so-called illegal termination and marital woes. “How can you be so sure two are real and two are fakes?”
Pete sighed and rolled his eyes. “It takes a trained eye, but any reputable appraiser will tell you the same thing. But don’t go to Lemming Jewelry, because they’ll try to rip you off if they think they can buy them from you.”
“And why should we believe you? Maybe you have an ulterior motive,” Bridget said, looking Pete square in the eye.
Pete broke out into laughter. “What would be my motive? You two came to see me; I didn’t seek you out.”
Bridget frowned at his logic, knowing something with this guy was amiss. “Okay, how can we know if you’re telling us the truth? You can say anything, and we won’t know for sure.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Pete said with a shrug. “You can believe what an expert tells you or not. You can believe the Earth is flat for all I care.”
Seeing that the conversation was on a downward spiral, Marlee interjected. “Think you’ll ever go back to your old job back at Lemming Jewelry?”
“Hell, no. When the owner died, he left the business to his son, Matt, Jr. That asshole considers himself to be a jewel expert. I suspected he’d been ripping off customers, so I did some digging and found out he wasn’t even certified. I reported him to the Department of Labor, and when he found out, he fired me. I filed a lawsuit under the whistleblower act, but it was thrown out for lack of evidence. There’s no way Matt Jr. would ever take me back, and even if he wanted to, I’d never work for him again. I thought for sure I’d win the case and be able to move away and open my own jewelry store with the proceeds from my lawsuit. Well, that didn’t pan out. Now, I’m trying to save enough to move to Minneapolis. My cousin has a friend with a jewelry store where I can work. Hope to be out of here by summer. I’m living in this crap apartment so I can afford to leave as soon as possible.”
Sinner or Saint Page 18
