Jeopardy in January

by Camilla Chafer

  I winced involuntarily.

  "Oh!" Jason sucked in a breath like I slapped him and his cheeks turned red. "I read that wrong. I thought... Of course, you don't want to go to dinner with me. I'm the one who's..."

  "No, no," I interrupted him before he mentioned the library and reminded me of exactly how we knew each other. My hand drifted to his arm and I leaned in. "It's nothing to do with that. It's just that I made other dinner plans already."

  "A date?" he asked, his voice cooler.

  "Something like that," I said, strangely unwilling to say yes, exactly that.

  "Lucky guy," said Jason. He climbed out of the car and walked around to my side, opening the door for me and offering his hand. I stepped down, like I was stepping out of a chariot, not an SUV, and Jason was the prince, not the developer who planned to ruin my library. "Good night, Sara."

  "Good night, Jason," I said, wondering why I was so reluctant to let go of his hand.

  Chapter Thirteen

  "You look gorgeous." Tom's eyes swept over me, and a rush of embarrassed warmth filled me. "I feel like I won the lottery!"

  "Oh, stop!" I chided him, secretly pleased at the unfamiliar praise. I'd made a substantial effort for my first date. Something that had taken far too long, if the brunch with Jason didn't count. Of course it didn't count! I wore jeans and a sweater and the pancakes were a last minute idea for two hungry people needing to break up a long commute. It definitely didn't count... did it? I brushed the question away, firmly stuffing it into the back of my mind. This was a date. I'd been to Francine’s many times over the years but never out on a dinner date, although I wanted to, and it didn't disappoint.

  The lights were dimmed, and each table had flickering candles inside miniature hurricane lanterns in the middle of the checkered tablecloths. Soft music played through speakers that were discreetly placed around the room. The tables were already half full with pairs of customers seeking intimate dinners. I nodded and said hello to several patrons I recognized as we passed them on the way to our table. I was sure half the town would know about my date by tomorrow.

  "I mean it," said Tom, his voice full of effortless charm. "You are the most beautiful woman in Calendar."

  "How many women have you seen since you got here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes in mock suspicion of his effortless charm.

  "Including tonight?" I nodded and he held up his hands, counting on his fingers. "Let's see. A dozen?"

  I laughed.

  "You mean there's more?" Tom opened his mouth wider, pretending to look shocked. "So what's good on the menu?"

  "I've heard everything is good," I told him.

  "This isn't your regular date joint?"

  "I don't have a regular date anything," I admitted, feeling a little embarrassed. "I've been single for a while."

  "Me too. My last girlfriend dumped me with a text."

  "Ouch!"

  "It wasn't even a text to me!" he admitted. "But something that was passed along."

  I winced. "Double ouch." I thought about it a moment, and before I wavered, I said, "I caught my ex making out with his ‘supposed’ best friend."

  "Ouch!"

  "On my mom's couch."

  "At least he wasn't making out with your mom," said Tom. He caught my eye and we burst into laughter at the absurdity of that, pushing the painful memory aside. It was a horrible moment for me and laughing about it now made me suddenly feel that I finally healed from it. I felt lighter and brighter. My ex was no more than a bad memory now, and that made me smile.

  "Here’s to new beginnings," said Tom, raising his glass after we perused the wine menu. He insisted on ordering a bottle of white with an unpronounceable name.

  "New beginnings," I agreed, clinking my glass against his. I sipped the wine, enjoying the delicious flavor.

  "And to not dropping anymore gloves," added Tom, raising his glass again.

  "I'm with you there," I laughed. "Where would I be if you hadn't returned my glove?"

  "Home alone? Battling through a harsh winter with one very cold hand?" suggested Tom. "I am so glad I caught up with you, not only to return it. If you don't mind me asking, what were you doing at the police station? Nothing wrong, I hope?"

  "I wasn't being arrested if that's what you’re implying!" I gasped, halfway horrified that he would think that, and halfway amused that he could.

  "No, you don't look like a jailbird! You're far too glamorous."

  My cheeks flushed but I wasn't sure if it was the wine or the steady stream of compliments. "No one has ever called me glamorous before."

  Tom gave me a skeptical look. "I find that hard to believe. Since we've established you're not a jailbird, I'm going to make a guess. You're—" He paused, tapping his forefinger against his chin "—an undercover detective?"

  "Guess again."

  "Traffic cop?"

  "Nope."

  "Something to do with the law?"

  I shook my head. "I'm a librarian."

  "Very interesting. Let's see. Since you weren't being arrested for a crime, you must have been there to report one. Hmm, now I'm wondering what kind of crimes are committed here. Did someone drop too much litter?"

  I held back a giggle. "No."

  "Paint their house the wrong color?"

  "No!"

  "Forget to clean their car last Sunday?"

  "That's not even a law!"

  "It isn't?" Tom laughed again. "Okay, you got me, I give up."

  "Actually, my friend, Bree, was killed," I said, growing somber. "That is, she was a colleague but I considered her my friend. I thought I knew her pretty well, but now I'm not sure I did. I really liked her though." I trailed off, aware I was rambling.

  Tom reached for my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as he wrapped his fingers around mine. "I feel I should apologize for being so flippant. I made a dumb joke when you're obviously dealing with something horrible. Were you helping the police?"

  "It was just an interview. Standard stuff, I suppose."

  "I really don't know police procedure but, from what I’ve seen on TV, I assume they must interview a lot of people."

  "I think I know about as much as you do about procedure. I'm just trying to help in any way I can."

  "I'm sure they appreciate it too. You could probably tell the police a lot about your friend."

  "I thought I could too but when Detective Logan asked me questions, I realized I didn't know anything about Bree and what I thought I knew turned out not to be true."

  "Are you sure someone killed her? Could she have possibly taken her own life?"

  "Detective Logan says someone killed her. I found her body; and unfortunately, it looks like he's right."

  "You must have been terrified."

  I relished the comforting warmth of Tom's hand, fully aware he hadn't let go in all the time we'd been talking. "I was. I've never found a dead body before."

  "Does the detective... Logan, wasn't that his name? Does Detective Logan know who did it?"

  I shook my head. "No, he's just as mystified as I am."

  "No leads at all? Surely someone must have seen something?"

  "It was a horrible night. Dark and snowing. No one was around. I'm afraid whoever killed her might get away with it," I said, realizing that thought had plagued me all day.

  "I hope you feel safe here with me. I'll even walk you to your door tonight and if you need me to check out all your closets and windows, I promise I will."

  A little sigh over his unbridled chivalry escaped me. "That's very kind of you."

  "Do you want to talk anymore about it?"

  "No, but thank you. I’m trying not to think about it. It’s too awful. Why don't you tell me more about you? What brings you to Calendar?"

  "Funny story," started Tom, launching into a tale of a business venture that was proving anything but easy. In no time at all, I was laughing and gasping, pushing all the morbid thoughts of Bree aside, and the guilty twinges of being able to enjoy myself lessen
ed substantially when we ordered our appetizers before moving on to our entrees. The delectable aromas enticed me, along with the food warming my belly and the wine running through my veins. By the time we reached dessert — Tom offered to split a chocolate souffle after I protested that I couldn't eat another bite — I was ready to declare our date the best I ever had. Of course, I would never admit that to him, or that he had little competition. Except... Jason was such wonderful company throughout the day too. He rescued me when I blew a tire although he could have left me at the side of the road. He also drove me all the way to the city and back without a single complaint. We strolled around the public library and he was so charming that I was still thinking about him now, even while on a date with another man! I could not think about Jason right now!

  "I would suggest we take a walk but I think the rain might change our minds," said Tom, pulling me back to the moment. He nodded towards the windows facing the street. I turned, only then realizing we were the last diners in the restaurant. How could it have emptied without me ever noticing?

  "I wish you saw Calendar when it was prettier, not like this. The snow was lovely until all the recent rain washed it mostly away. It's stunningly beautiful in the summer."

  "I'm sure I can come back and visit," said Tom, raising his hand to signal the server for the check. He declined my offer to split the cost, emphatically refusing when I offered more than once. He paid and a moment later, the same server returned with our coats. "I'm parked outside. May I offer you a lift?" asked Tom.

  "Please," I said. "I don't live too far."

  At my house, he idled the car before shutting off the engine and getting out before walking around to my side. When I stepped out, an umbrella appeared above my head. "Where did that come from?" I asked.

  "Magic." Tom winked. He held it over both of us as we walked to my door. At the stoop, he lingered. "I meant it when I offered to check your closets. And just so you know, I'm not trying to get an invitation inside, I just want you to feel safe."

  "I'm sure I am safe," I told him. "I have a good alarm system but I really appreciate your offer."

  "Why don't I call you tomorrow morning? For my own peace of mind."

  "That would be nice, thank you."

  "I'm not being entirely altruistic. I'd like to see you again and I think you mentioned something about a tour of the town?"

  "I'd be happy to give you a tour if you're not busy."

  "I'll make sure I'm not."

  "Good night, Tom."

  Tom leaned over, and for a moment, I thought he would kiss me but he dipped his head to one side, brushing his lips against my cheek. "Good night, Sara."

  I let myself inside, waggling my fingers in a wave as Tom turned and walked back along the path. At the end of it, he slipped on the slick sidewalk, and a leg flew out to his left, while an arm flailed off to the right, yet somehow, he managed to keep his umbrella aloft. When he righted himself, he turned around, laughing, and bowed. I was still chuckling as I shut the door and slipped off my shoes. I entered the code into the alarm keypad, switched on the lights and closed the curtains before going into the kitchen to get a glass of water. As I returned to the living room, a knock sounded at the door. Tom must have forgotten something. Was it a goodnight kiss? Although the cheek kiss was gentlemanly, it didn't exactly buckle my knees.

  I opened the door but instead of Tom, the porch light illuminated another man.

  "Detective Logan!" I exclaimed, my heart sinking. He could only have come here so late if there were bad news to report. "Has something happened?"

  "May I come in?"

  I opened the door a little wider, stepping back to allow him to pass. "This is very late for a social call," I said as he shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on my coat rack rather than allowing it to drip across the living room.

  "I tried to come by earlier but you weren't home. I saw your lights on and I wanted to share some news about Bree," he said simply.

  "Oh?" I waved Detective Logan over to the couch and he perched on the edge while I sat adjacent to him, waiting for what he had to say. Did he somehow hear about my trip to the city? I braced myself, anticipating a scolding lecture.

  "I shouldn't be sharing this with you but you're the only person I know who spent any real time with Bree," he said as he reached into his pocket for a sheaf of folded paper. I took it from him, speed reading it as my jaw dropped.

  I stared hard at the rap sheet, my mind full of questions. Yet, all I could stammer was, "How? How could this be possible?"

  "You tell me," said Detective Logan.

  With his face no more revealing than a mask, I wasn't sure how Logan felt about the latest developments in Bree's case, but I was horrified. So much for my theory about her being on the run from an ex or having correctly deduced the identities of the criminals responsible for the heists. Bree really was on the run from the law.

  "I can't picture Bree as a criminal, not at all," I said finally.

  "All the evidence is there, Sara. I checked and double-checked her prints. I called each police department that has any connection to her, be it solid or slight, and they all told me the same thing. She's not just any old, smash-and-grab thief."

  "Smash-and-grab?" I repeated, looking up at the detective.

  "The type that runs in and grabs something before smashing their way out. This woman was a sophisticated professional. She cased her targets in advance, developed a plan, and walked out with whatever she set her eyes on. Art, antiques, and in the latest case, diamonds. They think she might have gotten set up to take the fall on the last heist, which could have been why she went underground."

  "Do you think she came here just to hide?" I asked, again recalling the conversation Meredith overheard.

  "I think that's exactly what she did."

  "But why? Surely she must have sold whatever she stole? She probably already had a fence lined up, or maybe she even stole particular things per order. No thief would keep such high value items for too long. It would be way too risky."

  "Sounds like you know what you're talking about?"

  I shook my head. "Not exactly. We had an engaging author who spoke at the library last year. He was fascinating. His hero, or anti-hero, I guess, was an art thief that specialized in high-end robberies, you know, kind of making the impossible heist possible. He described it so interestingly and made it sound so real."

  "I'm sure he did but this is real life. We've got a real problem here. The last robbery victimized an established jeweler and it amounts to more than one hundred carats of diamonds, including a very rare, yellow diamond, amongst other precious gems."

  I couldn't help the gasp that escaped me. My head whirred until it clicked on what Detective Logan meant. "There's only one reason why someone would kill her," I said, thinking carefully. "She must have had something they wanted but was it cash or jewels or something else?"

  "I’m putting my money on the jewels."

  "The money I found in her apartment isn't enough if she sold them, is it?"

  "Not even close. We're talking somewhere in the millions, not the thousands."

  I thought about the other articles I found in the box. They were still stuffed in my jacket pocket where I shoved them earlier. "If I tell you something, please don't get mad." I looked up, attempting to implore Detective Logan with my eyes.

  "Spit it out, Sara," he said.

  "I went to her apartment..." I started.

  "You did what?" Detective Logan yelled. "Didn’t I warn you repeatedly about staying away from her apartment?"

  "No, not that one! Her other apartment, the one in the city. The address registered on the driver’s license I gave you."

  "You went there? Are you crazy? You had no idea what you could be walking into!"

  "I know that now!"

  "Tell me you took someone with you at least."

  I winced. "No, I got a lift."

  Detective Logan let out a long sigh and ran his hand over his auburn hair. "Wha
t did you learn?"

  "Nothing much. I met her roommate. She was annoyed that Bree, or Brittany, as she knew her, disappeared although she wasn't too concerned. She said she was glad Bree and her creepy friends weren't hanging around anymore. She thought Bree had a boyfriend called Tricky."

  "Tricky?"

  "That's what she said. Does that help at all?"

  "I'll run the name against any known associates but I'm not holding out much hope."

  "There's something else," I told him as I got up, crossing over to the coat rack. I pulled the articles from my coat pocket and held them out. Logan took them, shuffling through in the time it took to read the headlines. "These were in a box her roommate gave me. She asked me to give it to Bree. I implied we were related. Do you think these were the heists Bree could have been involved in?"

  "Possibly. Or maybe she was studying them. I'll look into them a bit more. What else was in the box?"

  "Nothing. Just random stuff. I'm sorry, Detective, I left it there."

  "I'll get someone to pick it up and interview the roommate on record. Can you promise me something?"

  "What?"

  "Swear to me you won't go back there! Bree was probably involved with some bad people and I think one of them killed her. If millions were at stake, they wouldn't hesitate to hurt anyone who got in their way."

  "Do you think Bree still has the diamonds?" Logan had me worried now. If the mystery man discovered me in the apartment while I was hidden in the bed frame, things could have gone very badly. I couldn't help thinking about the poor jewelry store manager and his family. Theft! Kidnapping! Murder! Bree's associates were definitely bad news.

  "I do and I think that's why she came to our quiet, little town. She wanted to lie low until she could pick them up from wherever she hid them and sell them. Someone else just figured out her plan and killed her. I have no doubt they are looking for whatever she hid and if it is jewels, they’re worth a helluva lot. I'm only telling you that because I want you to understand how serious it is."

  "I appreciate you doing so," I told him as he got onto his feet, moving towards the door.