The Scrimshaw Set: Books 1 & 2

by Gayle Hayes

  A friend of Emma at the office had recently published an eBook. It was a fantasy and not the type of book Emma usually read. She was grateful for a distraction from her many questions about the future direction of her life, and she was curious to know if her friend was a good writer. She knew the girl fashioned her heroine after Emma. After entering her code into the digital reader, Emma settled into her seat and soon was lost in someone else's adventure.

  As Emma read, her suitcase with the scrimshaw in it made its way through the terminal. One of the baggage handlers had recently relocated to Montana from New York. He was hoping to make a fresh start, but he found his airport pay did not go far enough. He worked alone, so it was easy for him to quickly open and check various bags for anything he might pawn. He was hurrying to check the most promising bags and move them along.

  Although her bag was not as nice as the ones he usually selected, the man chose to open Emma's bag because of the hot pink pompon on it. He opened the box of scrimshaw, recognized its value immediately, and zipped Emma's bag shut. He turned around and was about to hide the scrimshaw when another employee approached. If he had not been in such a hurry, the thief would have noticed that Emma's black bag already advanced on the conveyor belt. Instead, he unzipped a navy blue bag with a hot pink pompon on it, shoved the box of scrimshaw inside, zipped the bag, and left the area.

  At that very moment the sun disappeared behind ominous dark clouds directly over the airport. A small whirlwind rotated near the runway. A loud crack was heard as a bolt of lightning struck nearby. Thunder rattled the terminal windows. Sheets of rain changed to hail. Those who believe the dead know what is happening on earth might say Frances Favager was angry because she lost control of the scrimshaw set. Everyone else would say it was typical of the weather in Montana.

  BOOK TWO: DILEMMA

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  It was late evening by the time Emma entered her apartment in Denver. She didn't need anything from the suitcase she'd checked before her flight, so she set it in the corner of her bedroom, glanced at the mail, and was in bed by ten.

  Tuesday evening, she opened the luggage and discovered the scrimshaw set was missing. While Emma doubted the value Frances placed on the scrimshaw set, she knew it was in the Cullen family for four generations, and she'd been the one who lost it. She did not think the scrimshaw set would be found, so she was in no hurry to call the airline. She did have the note from Frances about the history of the scrimshaw. She opened her handbag and removed the original note and the copy she'd made at the office. Then Emma dug the small safe from the back of the closet and opened it. She'd already placed the nasty note Frances wrote to Emma's father and her incriminating letters to John Favager in an envelope. She added the description of the scrimshaw to the envelope and closed the safe.

  Emma's first week back at the office after her visit to Buffalo Jump was hectic, and she vowed she'd never take another vacation. Not only did she have to get up to speed on her existing cases, but she had three new-client meetings, a guest lecture to deliver as a favor to one of her former professors at the law school, and letters to write in connection with her father's probate. She'd not told anyone in the office the truth about her visit to Montana. Her co-workers still believed she'd made the trip for a family reunion. She considered it only a little white lie at the time. Now, of course, it was not a lie at all. She was too busy to go into detail, anyway, so no one persisted when she waved them off with a perfunctory, "Oh, you know, the typical stuff…lots of photos, food, and face time."

  When she arrived at the office on Friday of the next week, her paralegal handed Emma a message from the airline. Emma did not expect to hear from the airline when she filed a report about the missing scrimshaw set. She had no idea when it was removed from her luggage, and she had little hope a thief would be caught. She filed the report in part because her life was all about forms and procedures. Most of all, she blamed herself for being careless in checking the scrimshaw set at the airport. Emma automatically analyzed everything, so it occurred to her that she might have checked the scrimshaw set out of revenge more than carelessness. Emma was well aware that her mother gave her life to avoid losing the scrimshaw set, but she'd not been interested in sharing her life with Emma. The message from the airline was short: A passenger returned the scrimshaw set.

  Emma left the office early Friday and drove to the Denver airport. She was accustomed to anticipating all possible outcomes for any situation, so she thought about this one. How did another passenger find the scrimshaw set? Her luggage was not damaged. The contents didn't spill. Her clothes looked the same as she remembered when she packed them. She wondered when the thief took the scrimshaw set. The luggage wasn't out of her sight until she checked it at the airport in Great Falls. Perhaps, the thief had second thoughts and returned the scrimshaw. Or, perhaps, the thief thought a reward might be worth more than the scrimshaw set. Emma was deep in thought as she walked from the short-term parking lot to the customer service area. A young woman who appeared to be Emma's age with spikey blonde hair and too much blue eye shadow greeted her.

  "Crystal. Nice to meet you. Have a seat." Crystal unlocked a cabinet and removed the small ditty box with the scrimshaw set in it. She handed the box to Emma. "I hope it's all there," she said.

  Emma didn't count the scrimshaw pieces when Harold gave them to her, but she remembered they included the scrimshander's whaling vessel, his dream home in Massachusetts, his two best mates, a whale, and his love, Esther.

  "Everything seems to be the way it was," Emma said.

  "Your loss report valued the scrimshaw at $75,000. It's amazing anyone returned them," Crystal said.

  "I've been wondering about that. Did the thief have a change of heart?" Emma asked.

  "Oh, no. They were returned by an elderly passenger who happened to be on the same flight. Well, not her, exactly. Her son returned them," Crystal said.

  "Did she say how she came by the scrimshaw?" Emma asked.

  "Unfortunately, the lady passed away. Her son said she died in her sleep the same night she returned from Montana. He found the scrimshaw in her house several days later. But we do have a suspect. Was your luggage locked?" Crystal asked.

  "I remember locking it once, but I'm not sure I locked it after I reopened it. I've thought about it several times, but I can't remember locking the suitcase. I tucked the ditty box in the center of the case and then remembered I wanted to copy the note that described it and was in the box. I'm afraid I was distracted by putting the note in my handbag and then closed the case without locking it. I was hurrying to meet some friends for breakfast," Emma said.

  "We've taken several reports of items missing from passenger luggage on certain flights from Montana. The suspect was an employee who has disappeared into thin air. He may have changed his appearance and be using a false ID. We think he was pawning items he took from luggage after it was checked and before it was transferred to the flight," Crystal explained.

  "But I still don't see how this lady wound up with the scrimshaw set," Emma said.

  "I know it's frustrating. We may never know what happened," Crystal said.

  "I'm glad it was returned. I hope your suspect doesn't surface and victimize someone else," Emma said.

  "Is there anything else I can do for you, Emma?"

  "I'd like to thank the man who returned the scrimshaw set. I suppose you can't tell me who he is, though," Emma said.

  "I can't. But I could give him your contact information if you're okay with that," Crystal said.

  Emma wrote her cell phone number on the back of her business card for the man who returned the scrimshaw set. She handed the card to Crystal and thanked her for her time. Then Emma placed the scrimshaw set in a canvas tote she used for grocery shopping and headed to short-term parking.

  Although Emma was back in the routine of working at the law firm by the end of June, she was seriously considering a move to Montana. Smoke from wildfires in Colorado and Wyoming m
ade the air unhealthy in Denver. She stayed home on July 4th and used the day off to plan her summer activities. She wanted to enjoy a few events that were available in Denver so she would have no regrets if she left.

  At the end of July, Emma and a friend from the gym went to the Dragon Boat Festival in Denver. The event was a celebration of the Year of the Water Dragon and meant to familiarize festival goers with Asian culture. She enjoyed the spectacle of the brightly-colored dragons that were both 75 feet long and powered by the bodies of skillful operators as they maneuvered in dance. With the help of a Hawaiian shave ice cone and a misting station that created a body-cooling fog, Emma stayed comfortable in the heat. Other festival participants brought umbrellas to shield them from the sun. Most wore shorts and cool tops along with ball caps or crushable hats. Emma used her phone to capture the contrasting scene of casual modern spectators against the formal splendor of ancient Asia. She posted it as her Facebook photo cover.

  The summer passed quickly. With the death of one of the attorneys in family law, Emma assumed his workload and cancelled plans she had made to attend various events in August.

  On the first Saturday in September, Emma took advantage of the free admission at the Denver Art Museum, but she was disappointed not to see her favorite painter, Pierre Renoir. She was most fond of Dance in Bougival, Two Sisters, Dahlias, and Luncheon of the Boating Party. She enjoyed the cheerful, bright colors in the Renoir paintings.

  She was most intrigued by the dancers in Bougival. Although she had read that Renoir was not supposed to like women and showed his disdain for them in this painting, she thought it conveyed something else entirely. She wished she knew what the Frenchman is proposing to his dance partner. The man's vigor is almost palpable. He leads the reticent, young woman in the dance, his powerful left hand overlapping hers with a strong grasp as he leads her around the floor. Our eyes focus on the man's upper body as he leans into the young woman. His eyes are concealed by the rakish angle of his hat, bringing our focus to his mouth. In contrast, we see the woman's eyes averted to maintain a sense of propriety, as if whatever he said caused her some embarrassment. The darker blue color of his clothing dominates and contrasts with the woman's white dress that suggests innocence and submissiveness. Emma first saw the painting while in law school. She imagined herself in the place of the young woman and wondered how she might have reacted to the man's overtures.

  In early October, Emma attended The Sleeping Beauty ballet at the Denver Opera House. The evil Carabosse reminded her of Frances. Emma's favorite part of the ballet was the scene where Prince Florimund brings Princess Aurora out of her deep sleep. Emma could only wonder what she had missed by not knowing Harold sooner. That was Frances' fault. Emma knew she would always wonder what she might have missed by not getting to know Eric Knudsen. She had spoken to him only once after he called her in Denver. She had promised to call him. Emma left the Opera House longing for romance in her life. She would only have herself to blame if she let Eric slip away. She began planning another trip to Montana.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Carole Wylie scanned her Twitter feed in Billy's Balsamroot Café while waiting for Phyllis Carle to return from the restroom. Phyllis had recently convinced Carole it was time to join the twenty-first century and buy a cell phone. They were ready to get off their feet and have a bite of lunch after spending the morning at the local high school gym where they'd been decorating for the community's Halloween Howl. The café was decorated with spider webs, black and orange streamers, and an assortment of witches and ghosts.

  Phyllis slid across the seat on her half of their favorite booth, which was the one Harold had preferred. Carole tapped her right foot to Chet Atkins' Windy and Warm. Atkins' guitar was more mysterious than spooky, but Carole thought the tune complimented the Halloween atmosphere in the café. Carole ordered a Missoula Melt, which was a grilled cheese oozing with aged cheddar and Monterey Jack, while Phyllis chose the Chouteau Chili. Billy named the menu selections after counties in Montana.

  "I'm so excited to see Emma! If only Babe was here, too. He was on my mind all morning. We had such fun decorating with him last year. I'm glad he got best costume since it was his last Howl," Carole said.

  "He said the costume I made for him deserved the award. But it had less to do with the costume than his impression. He was Albus Dumbledore to the core!" Phyllis laughed. "The kids adored him."

  Carole's eyes filled with tears. "I suppose this year will be the worst. We'll keep remembering what we were doing last year," Carole said.

  Phyllis was perusing the Buffalo Jump Independent, a small weekly newspaper that was supported by advertising and free to readers. Her tone was icy. "Well, let's not dwell on it. Babe wouldn't want that."

  Carol ignored what felt like a slap to her face. She did not want to dwell on Harold Lowe's death. It seemed so impossible not to remember his life with them in Buffalo Jump. The three were friends for more than thirty years. She wished Phyllis was more like Harold. He was not contentious by nature and was more tender-hearted than Phyllis.

  "I don't suppose we'll see much of Emma this weekend," Phyllis said.

  Carole was not the type to nurture hurt feelings. She focused on Emma's visit. "Maybe Deputy Knudsen will propose to her, and we'll have her here full time," Carole said, cheerfully.

  Phyllis looked at Carole over the top of her reading glasses. Her brows naturally grew close together. They caused her face to look severe when she frowned, as she was doing now.

  "I'm sure Emma wouldn't wait four months to come back if she was serious about the deputy. They hardly knew each other when she left. I think you're jumping the gun. If they did get together, my money'd be on the deputy packing his bags for Colorado instead of Emma settling down here," Phyllis said.

  "It's a bet! How much are you willing to wager?" Carole laughed.

  Phyllis frowned. "You know I don't gamble."

  "Oh, lighten up. This isn't gambling. Just a friendly wager. My money's on Emma moving to Buffalo Jump to marry the deputy," Carole said.

  The waitress set the sandwich and chili on the table and gave Phyllis the tab. She gestured with it as she accepted Carole's wager. "Okay, then. If Emma and the deputy are hitched and living in Buffalo Jump next Halloween, I'll buy dinner anywhere you want to go," Phyllis said.

  "Anywhere?" Carole asked.

  "Well, you know, anywhere around here, of course. I'm not chartering a jet or anything," Phyllis said.

  "What do I have to do if you're right?" Carole asked.

  "Admit it. That'll be satisfaction enough for me," Phyllis said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Deputy Eric Knudsen shifted in his seat and sighed. He was parked behind the local pizza parlor waiting for drivers to exceed the posted speed. With the town geared up for the parties before Halloween, he knew someone would drive by in a hurry after getting stuck in the traffic jam on Front Street. The patrons of the pizza parlor were not the problem. They climbed the hill out of Buffalo Jump to the interstate right after leaving with their pizzas, which slowed them considerably. The deputy was after the drivers who were impatient, late, and going at a good clip down the hill from Front Street. They were notorious for California stops at the intersection so they'd not lose momentum getting up the hill to the interstate. If he didn't stop them first, they'd keep picking up speed and exceed the 75 mile-per-hour limit on I-15.

  Eric was bored. Police work was not as exciting as he'd imagined while growing up. He'd never missed an episode of Law and Order. Later, he realized he'd need to live where the criminals were if he wanted to investigate their crimes. Life was a tradeoff. Buffalo Jump, Montana was peaceful and beautiful, but the criminals were boring. At least he wasn't driving around in circles all day like he did on the Santa Maria police force. He still disliked driving any distance. He'd soon earn his pilot's license. Then he'd be able to fly to Denver, or anywhere else he wanted, without using vacation days to get there.

  While he wai
ted, Eric Knudsen checked Facebook for a post by Emma Favager. He hadn't seen one in days. He studied her new profile photo and thought it didn't do justice to her. He remembered her hair was a warmer auburn. He missed seeing her dimpled smile and hearing her voice. It was pleasant like Buffalo Creek in those places where it trickled from a shallow pool, cheerfully flowing over exposed rock. Her brown eyes were downcast in the profile.

  Eric assumed Emma was busy with her career. He didn't take his work home with him, but he knew Emma did. Still, he couldn't believe she was so busy that she couldn't have called him some time. She said she would. He'd stopped replaying their first and only date in his mind. He could not identify anything he did that might have offended Emma. Perhaps, she thought he was rushing her with the kiss. The kiss at the door of the Buffalo Jump Inn was etched in his memory. He closed his eyes and pictured Emma, remembered how her slim waist felt as he drew her close, and was certain she'd relaxed and enjoyed the kiss as much as he did. Maybe he should have kissed her again.

  When the deputy opened his eyes, he saw Batman crossing the street at the same time the call came in about the robbery in the pizza parlor. He responded that he was on scene and was entering the building. He felt a rush of adrenaline. He approached the building with caution and then saw the employee alone in the store. The employee assured Deputy Knudsen he was all right and told him that a thief in a Batman costume left with a pumpkin full of cash a short time before. The deputy left the pizza parlor and ran after the thief he'd seen leaving earlier. He searched the neighborhood on both sides of the street but did not find Batman. The deputy took a statement from the pizza parlor employee, and then he headed for the department to end his shift.