The Rescuer

by Dee Henderson

  “Could something still be hidden up there that you didn’t find?”

  “Most of the insulation came up when I looked at the wiring. I would have found something.”

  “Show me,” Kate said.

  “The trapdoor to the attic is in the utility room. You don’t need to be crawling around up there pregnant. I’ll show Dave and he can check it out.”

  “That’s fine with me. Let’s walk up to the house now. I could use a drink and a chance to stretch my legs.”

  He closed up the barn and slipped on the padlock. They walked to the house.

  “You need security out here,” Kate said. “Word gets out that there is a treasure hunt underway and you’ll have more than just one unwanted guest.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I didn’t call the sheriff—nothing in this town stays quiet. Word may already be out for all I know. The guy was drunk enough he probably talked about it before he came out here. At least it shouldn’t be that hard to find who around town has an eye to match mine. What we need to do is talk with Meghan. If Neil has more pieces hidden, the probable place he put them isn’t here but at the store or the apartment over it. She’s the one most likely to find something.”

  “I agree it’s better we keep this quiet. I’m afraid you may be sitting on a cache site, Stephen, and that more pieces are here even more valuable than that ring. I don’t want to add more worry, but you need to know this could get complex fast. Dave had a case that could factor in: A mob boss killed his wife when he found out she was having an affair. Since he went at her in the master bedroom and bashed in her head, it was open and shut. But one of the things that turned up was that some of her rather priceless jewelry were elegant fakes. If one of those stolen pieces shows up here…”

  “A thief that messed with a mob boss? Now living in Silverton?” Stephen shook his head. “I thought I left behind big city crime when I got out of Chicago. You just described it being in my backyard.”

  “We need to figure out what’s going on here. If there are more pieces found, if word leaks back to the jail system… In that scenario, we don’t catch a thief; we end up finding a body.”

  “Miss Delhart, there’s a Stephen O’Malley to see you,” the security guard said. Meghan leaned back from her intense focus tracing numbers through the inventory books. She was not in any shape for company, but it wasn’t polite to say no. “Please send him back.”

  She heard footsteps coming and keyed the software to record her place on the page, then turned on her stool. “Hi, Stephen.”

  “I brought along a surprise guest.”

  “Hi, Meg.”

  “Kate!” Meghan spun her stool the rest of the way around. “Stephen, find her a chair somewhere.”

  Kate laughed and Meghan heard rollers on a chair move. “I brought Dave along too.”

  “Hey, Meghan.”

  “Oh, it’s great to see you both.” She struggled to sort out sounds as the three of them came into the room. “How are you feeling Kate? You’re at…six months?”

  “I’m doing lovely. I’m still sick every morning, tired in the afternoon, and walking on swollen ankles—”

  “Fussing at being pampered, craving pickles and black walnut ice cream, already rearranging the house to start nesting—” Dave added.

  Meghan laughed. She loved it. “Oh, I’m so glad you came for a visit.”

  “I heard about your project,” Kate said. “It looks like you are making good progress.”

  Meghan gestured to her worktable. “JoAnne and I have cataloged every piece of jewelry in the store and had them appraised. Now it’s a matter of tracking down every piece here through Neil’s paperwork so I know what he owns and what was on consignment. So far his paperwork is holding up.”

  “No surprises?”

  “Only one. Would you like to see what a million dollars in jewelry looks like?” She stood and crossed over to the walk-in vault. She had changed the combination so it stopped on only major digits, and on the old huge dial it was easy to check by touch. She centered the last number and pulled open the large door.

  The jewelry pieces, numbered and sealed in plastic bags, rested on platters lined in velvet. She counted down to the fourth tray and pulled it out. “These are a few of the expensive pieces he had collected.”

  “Wow,” Stephen breathed to her left. His reaction made her smile. She couldn’t see the pieces, but she’d noted JoAnne’s reaction, the appraisers’, and her touch told her a lot.

  “May I?” Dave asked.

  She stepped back to let him access the pieces.

  Kate beside her hadn’t said anything. “What do you think, Dave?”

  “The pieces he bought—he was a collector. That explains a lot.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re all chokers or necklaces, all emeralds, rubies, or diamonds. He liked a particular look. I wish you could see them, Meg. They are quite spectacular.”

  “I’ve got a good imagination.”

  “How much progress have you made identifying these pieces?” Kate asked.

  “The bags that have red tags on them have been located in the paperwork. Neil kept a registry. When he bought a piece he wrote down a line in the book. When he sold a piece he wrote it in the book and made a notation back on the purchase line to show that the piece had passed out of his inventory. It’s pretty basic, but it matches up—one line in, one line out throughout the book.”

  “Is the registry complete?”

  Meghan shook her head. “I’m not sure yet, Dave. I know Neil handled a few pieces for which I haven’t been able to find a record: JoAnne’s brooch for example. Neil bought a piece from JoAnne a few years back; it’s what let them be able to afford a vacation cruise. Ken and JoAnne had found a brooch and a locket in an old music box stored in their attic. They kept the locket and sold Neil the brooch. We didn’t find the brooch in his inventory, and I can’t find lines in the registry recording its purchase or sale. It’s possible he handled a few pieces like those as favors and was buying them out of his own pocket.”

  “I hate to ask this question so bluntly, but I’ll explain in a moment. Was Neil honest?” Kate asked.

  Meghan frowned. She had been Kate’s friend for a very long time. It sounded like the cop in Kate asking the question. She was looking for something. “I’ve found no indication he cheated in his cash flow or on his taxes. Nor are there more pieces here than he has records for. The value he placed on pieces is in line with what the other appraisers judged them to be. The repair shop records are more nebulous, for he often bought gold and silver, even loose stones, to repair another piece. There are some records where a piece was taken apart and its diamonds reused. What’s going on, Kate?”

  “Stephen found a ring hidden under the floor of Neil’s barn. It’s a diamond ring, and we’ve confirmed it was stolen.”

  Stolen. Meghan leaned against the wall, absorbing that hurt. The suggestion that Neil had handled stolen gems didn’t fit what she knew about him. “There’s no indication within the store that any stolen goods flowed through here, either in the inventory or the records.”

  “Was the business in the black? Was it generating good cash flow?”

  “It was generating more cash than he could spend. The checking account and savings accounts for the business are very healthy.”

  “How well have you searched this store to locate any pieces that might be here?” Stephen asked.

  She looked his direction. “We weren’t trying to find something hidden, but we’ve been through every display case, drawer, box, and file cabinet while doing the inventory. JoAnne put white dots on the furniture as we went through them.”

  “Has security been here every day since Neil’s death?” Kate asked.

  “Around the clock. It was part of the arrangements Neil had made in his will and with his attorney. It’s a good security firm.” Meghan hated where this was leading. “What do you want to do, Kate?”

  “Find out if
that ring recovered in the barn was a one-of-a-kind incident or the first of several stolen items. We need to do another search of Neil’s possessions with an eye toward finding something concealed. Have you started working through his personal belongings upstairs?”

  “Just the basics of disposing of perishables, finding paperwork to close out bills, and the like.” Meghan rubbed her forehead. “I don’t believe he could have been involved in something like you’re suggesting, Kate. So let’s prove it one way or the other. I’m responsible for everything in this building, and Stephen owns Neil’s former land. You’ve got full access. How do you want to start the search?”

  “I’m not interested in trashing Neil’s reputation. We can do the search ourselves, and there’s no time like the present to get started,” Kate suggested.

  “You don’t want to bring in the sheriff?”

  “Not yet, Meghan. We’re worried that this might be bigger than just Neil. Someone tried to search Stephen’s barn last night and took a sledgehammer to the walls and floors. Someone local is involved in this, and we’d rather not tip him off until we know who that is.”

  Meghan spun toward Stephen.

  “I had a bit of a tussle and acquired a black eye that I’m very glad you are not able to see,” Stephen said, answering her unspoken question.

  “You should tell the sheriff.”

  “No. It’s important that word not get out and trigger the start of a treasure hunt,” Stephen replied. “We know there’s one person out there to worry about—the guy who searched the barn.

  I’d rather not add a layer of idiots trying to find jewelry we only suspect might be out there.”

  “What about your place, Stephen? Who’s watching it while you’re in town?”

  “Marcus is coming to help out,” Kate replied for him.

  “He’s what?” Stephen protested.

  “Marcus and Shari will be here Monday. Shari’s going to assist with your new kitchen while Marcus helps us conduct a complete search.”

  “When was this decided?”

  “A 2 A.M. phone call,” Kate said.

  Before Stephen could protest the fact his family was stepping in, Meghan settled her hand on his arm. “Kate, I suggest we divide and conquer. Why don’t you and I work down here, and Dave and Stephen can take the upstairs.”

  Jonathan tugged out another of Craig’s dresser drawers and rifled through it. This place was a dump. Craig hadn’t been seen this weekend, and Jonathan had run out of patience tracking him down. The man was likely bingeing somewhere on drugs, booze, or both, assuming he had scrounged up enough cash or stolen anything of value. The barkeeper told him Craig had been rambling on about cobwebs, bugs, and barns. There was enough truth in that drunken babbling to suggest Craig had been exploring for the jewelry on his own since Neil’s death.

  Jonathan stepped over piles of trash to shove open the closet door. The odds Craig had actually destroyed all the pictures of the jewelry taken over the years as he was ordered were nil. The man took his money and got high. It was a wonder he hadn’t had a head-on car wreck, leaving real jewels and evidence of a robbery lying around to be picked up. It was the price of small-town crime that he ended up with an excellent partner in Neil and a nearly incompetent partner in his friend Craig.

  Jonathan heard the sound of a car that badly needed a tuneup approaching. He left the bedroom and strode through the rooms. He shoved open the front door and walked outside as the car went off the driveway and came to a stop half over a bush.

  Craig got out of the car while Jonathan waited. He caught hold of the man’s shirt, spun him around, and slammed him against the car. “What have you been doing, Craig? Acting on your own?” His friend’s bruised face and knuckles told their own story. “You’ve been out to the farm searching? Getting yourself spotted?”

  “The pieces are out there,” Craig said, his mouth swollen and his words nearly impossible to make out. His eyes were still wild with whatever drug he was on.

  “And if we’re going to retrieve them, it’s necessary that the authorities not know we’re looking for them! You think Stephen won’t react to you prowling around his land? There will probably be dogs and every kind of hassle to get past now.”

  “You can’t stop me. I earned the right to those jewels just as much as you.”

  “Well you’re not looking for them anymore. You are going back to Chicago or wherever you crawled home from and cool your heels. If you so much as think about looking for the gems again, you’ll be sporting more than bruises.”

  Craig tried to wrestle away from Jonathan’s grasp.

  He pressed against Craig’s chest so he couldn’t draw a breath. “You listen to me, punk. We don’t want a single piece found; we want them all. I’ll get them my own way. You push me on this and you will regret it.”

  He waited until Craig stuttered an agreement.

  Jonathan shoved an envelope into Craig’s shirt pocket. “Go get high somewhere. Just stay out of my way.”

  Twenty

  Stephen lowered his frame into one of the lawn chairs that along with the couch comprised the extent of his living room furniture. A long frustrating day of searching had led to nothing of substance. “It’s good that we didn’t find anything.”

  Kate swung her feet up onto the couch and reached to rub her ankle. “Maybe. Neil either had no other pieces to hide or he had a very cautious plan for hiding them. Meghan and I didn’t get very far in our search. If we go two more days without finding anything else, then I’ll start to relax.” She moved around the pillows. “I’m impressed with your home. This is going to be a great place.”

  Stephen set down his iced tea. “Where the walls will go is marked on the floor in chalk, and the furniture locations are marked out in squares on the carpet. You have to use a lot of imagination.”

  “The plan is there.” Kate settled back on the couch. “And Dave really likes that baby goat you bought. He was calling his office to check in, but he was walking toward the barn as he dialed. I bet he’s gotten lost playing with the goat again.”

  “That animal does kind of grow on you. The kid will have company soon; I’ve got feelers out for some lambs.”

  “You couldn’t just buy a dog?”

  Stephen laughed. “It’s called freedom to do stuff I couldn’t contemplate in the city. I’m thinking a llama might be a nice addition at some point.”

  “Stick to raising fish in your pond.”

  “Meghan will enjoy the petting zoo more.”

  Kate studied him. “Any movement on that front?”

  “We’re both so busy it’s hard to get time together.” He couldn’t hold back a sigh. “We’re friends. She’s made it pretty clear that’s all it will be until I’m a Christian.”

  “Good. She’s not offering you false hope that she’s going to change her mind.”

  “Thanks a lot, sis.”

  “She’s right. A compromise wouldn’t last. You might respect what she believes and the importance of church in her life, but inevitably you’d feel left out. She can’t love Jesus and you too without eventually being forced to choose between you. She won’t walk into that quicksand.”

  He didn’t want to have this conversation, but maybe it would be better to simply get it over with. He’d been reading Jennifer’s Bible, and his questions were still much the same. “Why does it feel like God has conditions on loving me?”

  “He doesn’t. You’re projecting your own list of what you think He should expect. It gets pretty intense when you realize He accepts you despite the fact you’re a mess at the moment.”

  He scowled at her. “I appreciate the endorsement.”

  “Face it, Stephen, you are. You took off after Jennifer died and left in chaos. You came back and you’re still in chaos. Jesus is the kind who moves in, says I love you anyway, and then starts helping repair the mess. He means it when He says He loves you as you are, not based on what you’ve done. But He loves you too much to leave you in that chaos
once you know Him.”

  “Just like that.”

  “Pretty much. Stephen, there are not many times in life when we get a chance to hear ‘I love you and it has nothing to do with what you can do for me.’ Don’t let wrong assumptions cause you to mishandle the most important decision of your life.”

  “All the O’Malleys believe but me; therefore, I’m missing something.”

  “We just went first and figured out the ground on this side of believing is safe.”

  “Is it really?”

  “Yes, it is. Jesus is a good friend. I don’t regret for a moment the decision I made to believe.” Kate reached for her iced tea. “You and I have been friends for ages. If I tell you I’m going to do something, you don’t waste a lot of time wondering if I’m going to keep my word. Because we’re friends, you trust my word to be good. And when I suggest to Marcus that he come and help out, when I push you to talk about a bad day at work, you take it in the spirit it’s intended. I do it because I care an enormous amount about how you’re doing and I want to help.”

  Kate relaxed her head back against the pillows. “That’s the kind of friendship I have with Jesus. He keeps His word, and He cares about my welfare. You’re so tense around the subject of religion and God that you can’t envision what a friendship with Him is like. You’re waiting to be let down, don’t you see? You can’t have both. You either trust His word and the fact that He cares about you or you don’t. Until you approach Jesus with the intention of finding a trustworthy friend waiting to respond, you’ll never be able to connect and get to know Him.”

  Stephen turned his empty glass in his hand and sighed, then set it on the floor. “I appreciate how real this is for you. I really do. It just doesn’t ring true for me.”

  Kate tried hard to hide her disappointment. He was grateful for that as she smiled at him. “Well when it finally does ring true, will you at least promise me you’ll act on it? It’s tough watching you stuck there with all your questions and no answer resonating.” She tugged one of the pillows out from behind her. “I know it’s not an easy step, Stephen, to believe. It took Dave months to help me figure out answers to my questions. Please, keep searching for the answers instead of pushing aside the questions. When family keeps coming back to this subject, please understand—it’s not because we think less of you. It’s because we’re convinced life is better this way. We want you to have that peace and assurance too.”