Case of the Secret Life

by L C Lang

  I decided I’d had enough for today. It is time for dinner. Then I will relax the rest of the evening. After what I had found today, I really need to clear my mind. I put the jewelry bag inside my dark gray canvas messenger bag and the one pink rock into a small inside pocket. For now, the rocks will be safe.

  However, if these rocks are more than plain rocks and have value, then I will have to find a more secure place to keep them. Maybe a safe deposit box. Although, I am curious what they are. If they turn out to have value, what do I do with them? And who do I tell?

  CHAPTER 15

  The next morning, I had almost forgotten that I had to go to the police department to sign the complaint against Hannah Williams and Mrs. Helmond. So, I headed there first. Ten minutes later, I pulled into the parking space near the police department. It is a two-story brick building with Grecian-style columns. I hid my messenger bag under the front seat, grabbed my cell phone and the keys, and then I got out. I locked my truck and headed for the main door. When I got to the door, I paused a moment and took a deep breath. The last person I want to see is Detective Donovan. I am anxious to get to Indianapolis. Still, I have to do this, all because of what Hannah Williams did. I pulled open the door and stepped inside.

  Six feet inside the door, I came to a stop. A dark oak counter was on my right and a small sitting area with two plastic bucket chairs was on the left. Straight ahead is a closed door. Behind the counter, separated by a heavy pane of glass across the entire length of the eight-foot counter, a middle-aged woman is working on a computer. She is dressed in a tan uniform of a shirt and skirt. For several moments, she seemed not to notice that I am here.

  Finally, I leaned against the counter and intently watched her. I was not sure what she was doing, but obviously, I wasn’t as important as whatever she is doing on the computer. Then I cleared my throat. That did it. She finally looked at me. She signaled with her hand that it would be a minute. That minute turned into five minutes before the woman stood up and approached the counter.

  “What can I do for you?” the woman asked through a slot for payments at the bottom of one part of the glass partition.

  “Detective Donovan has some paperwork I need to look over and sign. Do you have it?”

  The woman shook her head. “No. I will call Detective Donovan.” She turned and went back to her desk, and then sat down. Then she picked up her phone and made a call.

  Darn. I really did not want to see him today, but unfortunately, I guess I will have to. So, I sat down waited. Another five minutes went by before a door opened and Detective Donovan stood in the doorway.

  “Why don’t you come back to my office.” he said.

  Another thing I did not want to do, but I do not have a choice. I nodded, stood up and then followed him through the door. We walked down a hallway. Finally, he walked into an office. The room was twelve foot square. Inside were two metal desks, which faced each other. A low-back chair is at each desk. A four-drawer filing cabinet is sitting in the corner. No one is sitting at the other desk.

  Detective Donovan pulled the chair from the other desk and sat it next to his desk. I sat down in the chair and he sat in his chair. He rifled through a stack of folders on the far side of his desk and pulled one out, laying it in front of him. He opened the file and then took out the top two papers. Then he looked at me.

  “This is based on your testimony that you gave me yesterday. Oh, thanks for sending the video clip from the time Hannah and her friend entered your house until they walked back out. The judge saw it this morning and he was not happy with either of the women when they appeared before him. He knows both of them very well, but he did not spare the lecture of how wrong they were in breaking into your house. Then he set the bond and their court date.”

  I nodded. I had almost forgotten to send the video clip, but I could imagine the judge’s reaction. No way could either woman deny they had been in my house. I am still glad I had put in a password lock on my laptop. The last thing I wanted was for them to see what is on it.

  “Will I have to appear in court?” I asked. It wouldn’t be the first time I have had to do that. I just want to make sure.

  “Probably. But, the prosecuting attorney will notify you of the date, which I am sure you will get in the next few days. Their court date isn’t for another month.”

  “So, they are out on bond right now?”

  Detective Donovan nodded. “Yes. Mrs. Helmond called her husband and he was in the courtroom this morning and bonded both of them out.”

  Great. I just hope I don’t have to run into Hannah again. Then I had a thought. “Does Hannah work?”

  He shook his head. “No. Never has as far as I know. Her parents left her quite a bit of money when they died a few years ago, which I understand she keeps separate from her husband’s money.”

  “Do you know if Benton Williams had a will?”

  Detective Donovan narrowed his eyes at me. “Why?”

  I shrugged. “Just curious. Since he was known for running around with other women and the fact that he has a business here in town, I just wondered if he had a will that will benefit her.”

  He shook his head. “I really have no idea. Guess she should be thinking about that.”

  “Yes, she should. Sometimes it takes a while to probate a will. Well, do you want me to read over the papers?”

  Detective Donovan nodded and handed me the two pages. I leaned back in the chair and began to read. Once I finished, I picked up the pen he had laid on his desk and signed it. I was impressed that he had included everything I had told him that had happened. Then I handed the pen and the papers back to him. He put the papers back in the folder and set it aside. Then he looked at me.

  “Thanks for coming in. Although, I do want to caution you about something. I know Hannah and her friends have been the ones to approach you, but under no circumstances go anywhere near them.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t plan on ever doing that if at all possible. I hope you told them to stay away from me too.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I did. Mrs. Williams was not happy about it, but she agreed.” He shook his head. “I have no idea where she came up with the idea that just because you live in the house where Benton was found in the shed, that you knew him.”

  “I don’t either, but she has been adamant. Which reminds me, how long was Benton dead before I found him?”

  “The coroner’s report said he had been dead about twenty-four hours.”

  I shook my head. “I was living in the house then, but I sure did not hear anyone out in my back yard. Of course, the building is wooden, but I should have heard something since the gate to the back yard squeaks. And there is no other way someone could have taken Benton to the shed.”

  “More than likely, it may have been in the middle of the night when most people are in deep sleep.”

  I nodded. “You could be right. At least I found him when I did or he would have been in worse condition and I would have smelled it.”

  “That’s for sure. What were you going to do in the shed?”

  “I wanted to see if my grandmother’s tables and chairs that she’d used in the tea room were in there. Benton was sitting in one of the chairs. I also wanted to see what other items were in there that I am going to need soon.”

  Detective Donovan nodded. “That makes sense. Never saw a dead body posed like that before.”

  “Sure took me off-guard when I saw him. So, you still haven’t found Benton’s truck?”

  Detective Donovan shook his head. “No, we haven’t found it yet. And we do know he did not die in the shed. Who knows where someone killed him.”

  “That’s a good question. Well, I am sure you are busy, so guess I better take off.”

  I stood up and Detective Donovan escorted me back to the front door of the building. We said goodbye and then I walked out.

  At least that is finished, I thought as I headed for my truck. Once inside my Cherokee, I pulled my messenger bag out from
under my seat and put in the passenger seat. Now, it is time to find out what the rocks are and if they have any worth. Maybe then, I can figure out why Benton hid the box. I pulled my truck out of the parking space and began the drive to Indianapolis, again.

  After dinner last night, I did a search on my laptop. I had to figure out where to go to today. I did not want a regular jewelry store. What I needed is someone who works with gemstones to make rings, necklaces and bracelets. I found two different stores in Indianapolis that does that. So, I will go to both of them. I need proof. I have to find out what the rocks are. I finally realized that no way would Benton have hidden bags of plain rocks in an empty apartment. So, I have to find out what the rocks are and if they are worth anything. My gut feeling is telling me they are worth more than they look.

  Half an hour later, I found a parking space three blocks from the first jewelry store. I grabbed my messenger bag and the keys, and then I got out, locking my truck. As I walked towards the store, I came up with a cover story. I was not about to tell whoever I talked to the real story where the rocks came from.

  The store is located in downtown Indianapolis. Traffic is heavy and the sidewalks are loaded with people heading out to lunch. Considering the time of day, I am lucky I found a parking space where I did. Otherwise, I might have had to park about six blocks and two streets away. Oh well, right time, right place, I guess.

  A few minutes later, I opened the front glass door of the business and stepped inside. The store is not very large; maybe twenty feet wide and twenty feet long, although I was sure there is storage space behind the back counter. I know the building is longer than the showroom I am now standing in.

  Both side walls have displays of jewelry. I headed right to get a closer look at the displays. One look told me this is a high-end jewelry store. None of what I am seeing is cheap. Beautiful, but expensive.

  I headed to the back counter. Turns out, the area behind the glass counter is bigger than I realized. There is a twelve feet space between the counter and the door going into the back. The door is open and I saw a large back room.

  In the work area behind the counter, there is a four-foot square table, with a light over it. At the table, a man with a loupe eyepiece over his eye is working close-up on setting a stone into a ring. Is this who I need to talk to?

  Just then, a man and woman came into the store. They headed to the counter where I am standing. They were both very well dressed and the look on the woman’s face told me they demanded respect and good service. A woman came through the door from the back area. She saw all of us standing at the counter, but she headed towards the couple, disregarding me. She plastered a smile on her face.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Logan. I know what you are here for. Give me just one moment and I will get your bracelet for you.”

  The woman disappeared into the back area again. A moment later, she came back, picked up a black velvet pad from a small table and laid the pad on the counter. Then she delicately laid out the bracelet she had in her hand. My mouth dropped open as I looked at the ruby and diamond encrusted bracelet laying on the velvet pad. It was beautiful.

  Mrs. Logan picked up the bracelet, a big smile on her face. Guess that means she likes it. I know I did, but I did not want to know what it cost. The look on the man’s face told me he had done something wrong and this so-called gift was payback for whatever he had done. Good for her, I thought.

  The man paid for the bracelet, which I heard cost five thousand dollars, and then the couple walked out the door, with the woman wearing the bracelet and admiring it all the way out the door. Then the woman approached me. I looked at her. Her nametag said her name is Patty.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” Patty asked. She is in her mid-forties, short curly blonde hair, is well dressed and a bit on the pudgy side. But, there is a smile on her face. No more real this time than when she talked to the Logan’s, but at least she is smiling.

  I nodded. “I hope so. My grandmother died six months ago and when I was going through her house, I found a jewelry bag filled with rocks. But, they do not look like rocks I have seen before. They are colorful. So, I was wondering if anyone here can tell me what they are.”

  The woman nodded. “Yes, there is. May I see what you have?”

  I quietly blew out my breath and nodded. Now, to find out what Benton Williams was hiding. I reached my hand inside my messenger bag and pulled out the jewelry bag. For the moment, I am going to wait on the pink rock.

  I opened the string top and then slowly emptied the bag onto the glass top of the counter. The man who was working on the ring had obviously heard our conversation, because he stood up and came to the counter. When he looked at the rocks, he sucked in his breath. This is not good. Then he looked at me.

  “I am Mike Peters. I own this store. You said you found this bag in your grandmother’s house?”

  Mike Peters is in his early forties, tall, black hair and dark brown piercing eyes. He is dressed in black dress pants, blue shirt and darker blue tie. A nice looking man, but there is something about the look on his face that I don’t like.

  I nodded. “Yes, sir, I did.” Okay, that is a lie. Twice. I am not about to tell him where I really found the jewelry bags. And, I have three bags of the same gemstones, not one.

  One-by-one, he picked up each of the rocks, looking at them closer with the loupe he put in his eye again. I waited patiently, getting more nervous by the minute. A few minutes later, he finished looking at the last rock. Then he took off the loupe and looked at me.

  “These are not plain rocks. What you have here are rough gemstones.”

  I sucked in my breath. Okay, the situation just got worse. “What kind of gemstones?” I slowly let out my breath. Now that I know what they are, why types of gemstones are they?

  Mike sorted the gemstones and then began pointing to each group. “You have ten alexandrite, ten tanzanite, five kinds of sapphires, three rubies and two orange garnets. Each of these gemstones would make beautiful necklaces, bracelets and rings.”

  “Are they worth anything?” I nervously asked.

  Mike nodded. “Yes. Very much so. Especially the alexandrite and the tanzanite. On the tanzanite, this color of the gemstone is rare. The bluish purple is a very desirable color, as is a deep blue color. You have both of those colors. These gemstones run about four hundred and fifty dollars per carat. The alexandrite runs about fifteen thousand per carat. Each of the stones you have would polish down to a two-carat stone. The sapphires run a hundred to a hundred and fifty dollars per carat. On the rubies, what you have are Burmese rubies and they have a value of fifteen hundred to three thousand per carat. The orange garnets have a value of one to two thousand per carat. Of course, these prices also depend on color and clarity, and that would be determined once the stone is polished. All of the gemstones you have would polish down to four carats each. I have had twenty years of experience and from what I am seeing here, you have a good assortment of high quality of rough gemstones.” He paused a moment. “I do have necklaces with the alexandrite and tanzanite that I designed. Let me show you what they look like when they are put into a necklace.”

  He walked into the back room, while I processed in my mind what he had told me. These rough gemstones are worth a lot of money. Even more so once they polish them and put them in jewelry. But, are these all that Benton Williams has gotten in since he began getting in Persian and Oriental rugs with gemstones inside? Of course, I have no idea how many gemstones came in each time they got in a shipment of rugs. Are they coming inside both types of imported rugs? But, why did Benton have these hidden? Was he bringing the gemstones in for someone else and then kept some back for himself? Right now, I have no idea, but it is still curious why he kept back five bags of gemstones. This is getting more confusing.

  Mike came back with necklaces in each hand. Then he got the black velvet pad, placed it on the counter in front of me and laid the two necklaces on top. I sucked in my breath as I looked at
them. They are both beautiful. Then he told me which was alexandrite and which one was tanzanite.

  The bottom of alexandrite necklace is almost heart shaped, encased with eighteen small diamonds. Four small diamonds connected on top, which led to the clasp where it attached to a delicate silver chain. Mike explained that the gemstone has a trillion cut and the size is one-half carat. This necklace cost fifteen hundred dollars. He went on to explain that the tanzanite necklace has a quarter carat stone and a fourteen-carat white gold chain. He called it a dancing tanzanite drop necklace. The stone is teardrop shaped. Prongs attached to the gemstone and to the quarter inch wide silver band that looped around the gemstone and up to the diamonds and the chain where they met. The gemstone appeared to be shimmering. No wonder they called it dancing because it sure looked like it was moving. This necklace costs eight hundred dollars, which if the gemstone was one carat would be forty-eight hundred dollars.

  All I could do is to shake my head. Both necklaces are beautiful and well out of my budget. The change from the rough gemstones I had to the polished necklaces in front of me was astounding. It also meant that one rough gemstone will make several pieces of jewelry.

  “Do you know where your grandmother got the gemstones?” Mike asked.

  I shook my head as Mike handed the two necklaces to the woman who took them in the back room. “No, I really don’t. Where do most of these gemstones come from?”

  “Basically, Myanmar, India, and maybe another nearby country or two. Do you want to sell them?”

  This stopped my thoughts of the value of the gemstones. They are not really mine to sell. If they imported these gemstones inside the rugs, this means they are illegally smuggled, if that is really what happened. Then I had a thought. I looked up at Mike.

  “Are there people wanting to buy this kind of rough gemstones?”

  Mike nodded. “Yes. Jewelers like me who design bracelets, necklaces and rings are always looking for rough gemstones to work with. The alexandrite and this color of tanzanite are hard to get. Keep me in mind if you decide to sell them. I would give you a very good price for all of them.”