by Sarah Atwell
“Poor guy.” But at least it isn’t Cam, thank God.
“Hey, you hungry?”
“Definitely. How about Elena’s?” Not only was the food good, but most tourists hadn’t discovered Elena’s small and informal restaurant, so we might have a chance at some privacy. And I could use the ten minutes it would take to walk to Elena’s to make up my mind about what to say to Matt about Denis, who was definitely creeping me out.
We filled the brief walk with meaningless and rather disjointed small talk, both of us distracted by our own thoughts. As I had hoped, Elena’s was only middling busy, and she directed us to a booth at the back. Once we had ordered and the waitress had retreated, we both sat back and stared at each other. Matt looked tired; I had no idea what I looked like.
“You want to go first?” I ventured, stalling.
“What?”
“You look like warm spit. Problems?”
He shrugged. “Nothing out of the ordinary. The Gem Show always stretches us thin—with all those stones, and a lot of cash floating around, we get more than the usual share of petty crimes, and there’s also extra traffic to worry about. And don’t forget the usual: politics, complaints. Penny-ante stuff that keeps us from working on the big stuff. It’s been a long week. You?”
Okay, decision time. I understood that Matt had a lot on his plate at the moment. But I was worried about my brother. “Matt, what do I do about Cam now? I have to do something.”
“You’ve filed the report—that’s the first step. What do you know about Cam’s new job?”
“We haven’t had a chance to talk about it a lot.” I searched my brain for the name of the company and came up blank. “Some sort of ‘Save the Desert’ organization. He connected with them pretty fast, once he decided to move to Tucson. I think the people there figured Cam would be a good complement to their existing staff—he has some standing in the ecology community, and he’s a whiz with modeling natural systems, or so I understand.”
“It’s not affiliated with any of the local colleges or the university?”
“I don’t think so. Cam thought he could have more impact with a small independent organization. Besides, he’s not into that whole structured academic thing. Too much other baggage attached—he likes more independence.” Like me. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, but he hasn’t even started working there yet.”
“No hard feelings with the company he left?” Matt said. “He did give notice pretty quickly.”
“I don’t know. He might’ve said something to Allison. Maybe you should be talking with her.”
“I will, if I need to. But let’s not worry her at the moment.”
“She’s already worried, and she feels guilty on top of that. She thinks his disappearance is all her fault.”
We sat in glum silence for a minute or so. Finally I said, “Matt, you know Cam—he’s Mr. Squeaky Clean. I don’t think he’s done anything illegal in his life. I suppose it’s barely possible that somebody knows about my windfall and is planning on shaking me down for money, but if so they’re taking their sweet time about it.”
I was still vaguely troubled by Denis’s obscure comments, and though there was nothing Matt could do about them, I trusted him to tell me if I was completely off track. “Matt, can I run something by you? At least on a personal level, if not a professional one?”
“Of course.”
He heard me out as I explained my first contact with Denis and described his rapid disintegration, ending with his cryptic comments about Cam. When I finished, I waited for Matt’s response, which was slow in coming.
He poked at his cooling food, and I poked at mine. Finally he said, “Em, if I heard this from anybody else, I’d say that person had an overactive imagination with a dash of paranoia thrown in. But I know you, and I know Cam, and I’ll agree that you have cause to be concerned. But we don’t know for a fact that anything has happened to Cam. Maybe this Denis guy is acting a little strange, but that doesn’t mean much. I’m not saying you’re wrong, but what can I do?”
“How about checking out Denis?”
Matt nodded. “I can do that, within limits. I have no excuse to look at any of his records, much less subpoena them, but I can sniff around, see if he has any kind of history with the police.”
It was a crumb, but I still sighed. “Somehow I doubt it. He’s probably exactly what he says he is: an ordinary college professor playing around with an idea.”
“Run through what he’s doing again?”
“Heat-treating peridot, to make the stones more valuable. I asked Frank about it, and he says it’s legal and it’s done all the time. Maybe there’s a kind of gray area if you don’t state up front that the stones have been altered, but that’s one of those ‘buyer beware’ situations. The buyer should ask that question.”
“Where are the stones coming from?”
“I don’t know. Denis hasn’t said, and I never asked. I figured it was none of my business. He did say they were easy to buy.”
“You know where most peridot comes from?”
“I didn’t, but I do now, thanks to Frank—the San Carlos Reservation.”
“You think maybe Denis is stealing from the reservation?”
I laughed. “You haven’t seen Denis. He doesn’t look like the type to go creeping around the reservation harvesting stones. And he has a day job at the university, presumably. Besides, he’s got to be smart enough to know that someone is going to ask about his source.”
“Maybe he’s buying them from some middleman, who asked him to pretty them up. Even someone from the reservation. They sell to middlemen all the time. What was it Denis wanted you to do? Give him free access for the next couple of days?”
“Yes. He said he’d be done by next week. I told him I was cutting him off after this weekend. He kept muttering that he didn’t have enough of the enhanced stones. So I guess he thinks he can produce the right number fast. Maybe he’s got some kind of deal with someone who’s in town for the Gem Show and who’s leaving soon?”
Matt was staring at some spot over my head, until he said slowly, “I’ll bet the Apaches keep a pretty close eye on peridot sales—after all, they make good money from them. So if something new pops up, they’ll be right there asking questions.”
“Great,” I said glumly. “Now we’ve got a local Indian tribe in this mess. Is there anyone else you’d like to throw into the mix? The CIA maybe, or international jewel thieves?”
“Em . . .” Matt said simply.
I knew he was trying, and that made me feel a little better. “I’m sorry—this is not your fault. You know, if Cam were here, I’d ask him to do some computer snooping, about Denis, and stones, and the San Carlos group. I don’t have the skills or the time or the patience to do that, and you can’t ask your people to do it. I suppose I’m just hoping there’s a loose thread somewhere that will untangle this.”
Finally Matt said, “Em, I agree that there’s something here that doesn’t feel right. I don’t like coincidences, because they usually aren’t. And Denis mentioning Cam right now is definitely a coincidence.”
I didn’t know whether to cheer or cry. The good news was, Matt believed me and he was going to help, officially or not; the bad news was, that meant he believed that Cam could be in trouble, and we didn’t have a whole lot to go on. But it warmed me that he was on my side. He’d even said “we.” I slid my hand over his, across the table. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For believing me. For not telling me I’m overreacting. For taking this seriously. I’m sorry I’m dumping it on you at such a busy time.”
“Em, I know you’re not a hysterical female, and I know you care about your brother. We’ll work this out.”
The warm and fuzzy interval lasted about thirty seconds, and then I withdrew my hand and sat back in my chair. “Now what?” I asked.
Matt rubbed his hands over his face. He still looked tired. “Is Frank still around?”
/> “Yes. He hasn’t said when he’s leaving. Why?”
“Because Frank’s the best resource we have about the gem community. I may help deal with security for the Gem Show on occasion, but I wouldn’t know a ruby from a gumdrop.”
“Want to go see if he’s home?”
“I guess. And if he isn’t, maybe we can find something else to do?” He made a brave attempt at a leer, but it fell a bit short of the mark.
I appreciated the sentiment anyway. “Let’s go.”
After Matt had settled the bill (hey, he’d asked me to dinner), the walk back took little time. When I let us in, Frank was settled on the couch, engrossed in a journal of some sort, with reading glasses perched on his nose. I was a little bit disappointed to see him—I could have used some quality time with Matt.
Frank looked up and greeted us enthusiastically. “Em, Matt! I wondered when anyone would show up. What’s the word?”
“Not much.” There was no point in beating around the bush, and I knew Frank liked to be direct. “Frank, when I saw Denis today, he mentioned Cam, and it bothered me—he made some sort of explanation about how they know the same people, but I didn’t buy it. Denis was pretty coy, but I had to wonder if he was trying to pressure me somehow. Anyway, I thought it was time to call for reinforcements, at least unofficially. I’ve brought Matt up to speed on Denis and what little I know about him and what he’s doing, but Matt thought we could both use your expertise with stones, if you’re willing to help.”
“Of course. What d’ya need?”
Without asking, I went to my refrigerator and located three bottles of beer. Looked like Frank had done a little restocking, bless him. I distributed them and sat down.
“Frank,” Matt began, “I’m the first to admit I don’t know much about gems, but this is what Em has given me so far: Denis has a supply of peridot, and apparently the ones he has can be altered artificially, to his advantage. He’s in a hurry to turn out a certain number of treated ones, which may be related to the end of the Gem Show. Maybe he’s got a buyer who’s leaving? Who’d be interested, and why the rush?”
Frank thought for a moment before answering. “Might be another thing—maybe his source doesn’t know he’s got the stones, and your man wants to get them off his hands as fast as he can.”
“If he’s got them illegally, you mean? Hmm . . . most of the local stones come from the San Carlos Reservation, but they’re pretty tightly controlled. You think Denis’s come from there? It’s not illegal to buy them.”
“He could buy them up front, no worries. But then he wouldn’t be so anxious, would he? Maybe he’s sneaking them off the reservation and doesn’t want to be caught. That’s more your territory than mine, Matt.”
“Not really,” Matt replied. “That’s outside my jurisdiction, in more ways than one. It’s tribal land, and they have their own courts.”
“Didn’t know that. Interesting. But maybe I can help. Stones from different locations may have different properties, and you can identify the source. So if I had a stone from Denis’s stash, I could compare it with a stone from the reservation, maybe tell you if they’re the same. That’d be one more piece of information for you.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Em, you still have that stone?”
Sweet man, he was trying to protect me. Well, I hadn’t actually taken the stone from Denis—I’d found it in my studio and I hadn’t gotten around to returning it. “Yes, I do. And before you ask, Matt, Denis left it behind, and I picked it up. For safekeeping, you know.”
“Of course.” Matt managed to keep a straight face. “So if we had a reservation stone, you could look at them both, right, Frank? Shouldn’t be too hard to come by.”
“Way ahead of you, Matt.” Frank fished in his pocket and pulled out a few now-familiar plastic envelopes of rough stones. “Been collecting them all along, sort of a souvenir of my trip. Got samples of all the sources.”
“Frank, you are a marvel,” I said. I retrieved Denis’s stone from where I’d hidden it. “Here’s the other one.” I handed him what now seemed to be our first—and only?—clue. Then Matt and I sat side by side and waited while Frank located his loupe, found a light source that suited him, and compared the stones. And compared. And compared. Maybe this careful approach made him a good gem dealer, but he was driving me crazy.
Finally he returned his stone to its bag and handed the other back to me. “They could be the same. They’re not different, anyway. Definitely not Afghan, Pakistani, or Burmese.”
I wondered if I could hit him with something. “So what does that tell us, Frank?”
“I’d guess the stones are local. They came from the reservation or someplace nearby—it would have to be the same geological formation, although that could cover quite a lot of ground.”
“Frank, how much more do you think the altered stones would be worth, compared to the unaltered ones?”
“Hard to say, Em. And it also depends on who he tries to sell them to, and how.”
“Give me a guess, will you? Twenty-five percent? Fifty percent?”
“The treated one you showed me looks pretty unique to me. Make it a hundred percent, easy, to the right buyer. Maybe more, if the marketing was right.”
“So he’s doubled his investment, with a couple of hours in my studio. Is that what you’re saying?”
“It’s possible. Still all completely legal, you know.”
I looked at Matt, who looked distracted. “Matt? What’re you thinking?”
He shook his head. “I thought I had something, but I lost it. Sorry, Em, but I’m beat. I’ll be more useful with a decent night’s sleep.” He stood up, slowly for him. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Em, see me out?”
I followed him to the door. “Matt, is there anything I can do?”
“You told Denis he could come back, right? I’m thinking maybe it’s time I take a look at the guy. When are you expecting him?”
“Probably early—he wants to produce as much as he can over the weekend. The treatment that seems to work best takes a while, so I’d bet he’ll show up early, pick up the ones that are done, and put in some more.”
“So I’ll be here early. Em, Cam’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
He wrapped his arms around me, and we sort of held onto each other for a while. It was nice. And it occurred to me that he didn’t care if Frank noticed either. Definitely nice.
Finally he untangled us and took his leave. I made my way back to where Frank was sitting; he was wearing a restrained grin. “Good man to have on your side, eh?”
“Definitely.”
Chapter 15
Ancient legends hold that peridot can protect its wearer from evil spirits.
Before I opened my eyes the next morning, I listened, hoping against hope that I’d hear Cam’s voice, bantering with Frank or Matt or even the dogs. Nothing. With a sigh I heaved myself out of bed and took a shower.
Spruced up and ready to face the day, I went to my main room. No humans, just Fred and Gloria, and since they weren’t nipping at my ankles, I assumed Frank had fed them. When I looked, I found he had left me a note on the kitchen table:
Breakfast with friends. Back later. F.
Short and to the point—typical Frank.
I had made my coffee and eaten breakfast when Matt arrived. “You want some coffee?”
“Please,” he replied, then bent down to greet the dogs. While I made more coffee, I puzzled over his choice in wardrobe: faded jeans, faded running shoes, faded shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I was used to seeing him in his “public” garb—not exactly a standard suit-and-tie but respectable enough to interview a public figure or even appear on the evening news. This was decidedly casual for him.
He sat at the table, and I put a filled mug in front of him. I sat down with another mug. “Okay, why are you here, and why are you in disguise?”
He looked puzzled for a moment, then looked down at his shirt and smiled. “I kind of wanted to blend in. I thought I’d
come down and hang around the shop until Denis shows up, catch him off guard. Maybe that’ll help me figure out what tack to take.”
“You’ve got something?”
“Kind of.” He avoided my eyes, looking into the depths of his coffee while he swirled the mug in his hands. “I remembered what escaped me last night. When we were talking about stones?”
“Okay. What?” I prompted.
“The body at the ME’s.”
“The one with the pebbles?”
“That’s the one.”
I nodded encouragement, not sure why it mattered. As long as it wasn’t Cam, I really didn’t care much.
Matt went on. “The ME gets pretty backed up, with all the illegals coming over the border and not making it. He usually doesn’t have time to process the bodies for a while, especially if there’s no ID on them, but he and his staff record the basics. Sad—a lot of the time there’s no one to notify that they’re dead.”
“It’s a tragedy, I agree. But what’s it got to do with Cam?”
“The ME mentioned the pebbles, and I didn’t think much about it. But then when Frank was showing us those rough stones, it hit me. . . .”
“You think the pebbles might actually be peridot?” I finished his sentence. That didn’t sound good.
“Right. Long shot, I know. But I stopped by morgue on the way here—I called in a favor and talked the ME into authorizing me to take a couple of the pebbles. This is what he gave me.” Matt pulled a small plastic ziplock bag out of his shirt pocket and tossed it across the table to me.
Even before I picked it up, I was pretty sure what I was going to see. I held the small packet up to the light, watching the green glints within the dusty stone. “Rough peridot. The guy at the ME’s office had no idea what they were?”
“Nope, not when the body came in. Not that it mattered to him. It didn’t tell him anything useful about the dead guy.”
“Did you ask where that body was found?”
“Of course. A dry canyon east of Summerhaven, in Pima County. The reservation is a good ways north of there. The body wasn’t on reservation land, which would be a whole different can of worms.”