The Scrimshaw Set: Books 1 & 2

by Gayle Hayes

  The highway patrol also had arrived and took over the scene. The deputy's cruiser was towed. Deputy Knudsen stayed until another deputy could take him back to the sheriff's department. Then he filed a report, ended his shift, and headed home.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Sunday morning Emma worked out at the gym. She was one of only six members there and enjoyed the relative quiet and access to the equipment. She'd finished a half mile on the treadmill and was heading toward her goal of three miles. While she walked, Emma thought about the robbery. The rhythm of her steps on the treadmill helped keep her focused. Something bothered her about the robbery. She did not believe anyone on her list of suspects was truly suspect. She must have overlooked something, but she could not put her finger on it. Then she traced her steps from the time she boarded the flight in Great Falls to the time Jack Hennessey handed her the scrimshaw set. That was it. Jack Hennessey did not give her the scrimshaw. Crystal Smart did. She'd taken it from her cabinet at the airline office and handed it to Emma. Crystal could not reveal Jack's identity at the time.

  Emma stopped the treadmill, found her phone, and placed a call to Detective Dolan. She was surprised to hear his voice.

  "Detective Dolan? I thought it might be your outgoing message. I remembered someone else who knew about the scrimshaw set. Crystal Smart."

  "Is she a friend of yours?"

  "I didn't tell you before. The scrimshaw was stolen from my luggage when I left Montana last summer. Crystal works for the airline and returned the scrimshaw to me."

  Emma spelled Crystal's name and gave her number to Detective Dolan.

  "So this is the third time it's been stolen? You might want to keep it in a bank box if you get it back," Dolan advised. "Did Crystal say how she came by the scrimshaw?"

  "She said a passenger found it in her luggage, but the passenger died right after she returned to Denver. Her son returned the scrimshaw to the airline."

  "That sounds convenient," Dolan said.

  "Oh, I met her son. I included his name on the list I sent you, but he's not a suspect. Jack Hennessey. In fact, I received a postcard from him. He mailed it in Indonesia."

  "Are you saying Crystal Smart robbed you?"

  "No. But she gave me the scrimshaw, and she knew my address. Maybe she told someone else, and he robbed me."

  "I'll have a talk with her. Is there anything else?"

  "I can't think of anything else. I hope you find out something. I feel like a prisoner in my own apartment."

  "I'll be in touch. Keep your doors locked."

  "Thank you. I will."

  Emma's mood brightened. She was convinced Crystal Smart would lead the detective to the robber.

  After she finished her workout, Emma showered, ordered a fruit smoothie at the bar in the gym, and walked to her car. She wished she could spend the day outside, but she was working on a pro bono case with more than the usual number of interrogatories. The other side failed to supply some of the requested discovery. Emma would be spending her afternoon sifting through the responses and drafting a motion to compel.

  Emma sipped on the smoothie in her car and found Eric in her contacts. She was anxious to know about the arrest of Mallory Jackson.

  "Hey. How's your Sunday going?" he asked.

  "Great. I worked out. It gave me an idea about the robbery. I think Crystal, the airline representative, must have told someone about me. It's the missing link, and it's been nagging at me," she said.

  "Did you tell the detective about her?"

  "I did. I'm hoping he gets a chance to talk to her tomorrow. The suspense is killing me."

  "I hope not. I'd still like to see you around Christmas."

  "How'd the arrest go yesterday?" Emma asked.

  "She confessed on the spot. She spent the money, though."

  "What are you doing today?" Emma asked.

  "Painting. I've got a big project going. I hope you like it," he said.

  "Of course I will. I should let you get back to it."

  "Talk to you later. Keep your doors locked and your eyes open," Eric said.

  "I will. Have a good week. Bye."

  Emma ended the call and drove home.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  On the Thursday following Thanksgiving, Emma drove to the Denver Police Department. The stark columns of the building reminded her of a penitentiary. The building was still less formidable than the drab gray fortress of the city/county detention center. Emma was there to meet one of the secretaries whose divorce was pending. They planned to eat lunch in a deli near the department to discuss the next step. Emma wanted to see Detective Dolan, but the receptionist told her he was out of the office. Emma hoped he was interviewing Crystal Smart.

  Emma and her client were on their way out of the building when she heard her name. She turned around and saw Jack Hennessey waving at her. She apologized to her client and asked if she'd mind waiting for a minute so Emma could find out what he wanted.

  "Delightful to see you. You look wonderful," Jack said.

  "What brings you downtown?"

  Jack's expression was grim. "I wanted to report a crime, but I was informed I'll need to report it at the district station. Mother's house was ransacked. Someone left it in a terrible state."

  "Was it vandalism?" Emma asked.

  "No. The damage was incidental. I can't imagine mother having anything anyone would want."

  "You said you'd given the house to a realtor."

  "No one was looking. It's not an opportune time to sell, so I took it off the market. Perhaps I'll keep it for my own retirement."

  "I'm sorry, Jack. I'd like to talk to you, but I'm with a client."

  "I understand. It was wonderful seeing you, Emma."

  "Yes, it was. Take care." Emma walked away and did a half-turn. "I hope you find out who did it," Emma said.

  Emma managed to stay focused on her client over lunch, but she could not get Jack Hennessey out of her mind. Once she was back at her office, Emma thought about her conversation with Jack and wondered if there was any connection to the robbery at her apartment. She did not want to mislead Jack into thinking there was still potential for a relationship between them, but she was curious to know when the intruder entered his mother's house. After giving it much thought, Emma found him in her contacts and called. She let it ring several times, but Jack did not answer. She set the phone on her desk, and tried to get back to work. There was a knock at the door. Ally was with Detective Dolan.

  "I've been waiting to talk to you," Emma said.

  Dolan laughed. "I had an interesting interview with Crystal Smart yesterday afternoon. She was practically sweating bullets."

  "Did she admit to the robbery?"

  "No. But she did admit telling her brother about the scrimshaw set. She could be fired. She's supposed to keep passenger information to herself. She begged me not to say anything." Dolan sat in a chair facing Emma's desk.

  "Do you think he did it?" Emma asked.

  "I'm sure he didn't."

  "How can you be sure?"

  "He was killed in a car accident right after she told him."

  "Oh, that's too bad. Why did she tell him anything?" Emma asked.

  "He always had something exciting to tell her. She wanted to impress him with the importance of her job."

  "Do you think she might have told someone else?"

  "Not really."

  "Are you going to turn her in?"

  "Do you think I should?"

  "I don't know. She violated her employer's trust. But I suppose she won't do it again. Don't report her on my account," Emma said.

  "So, I guess we're back to square one," the detective said. He reached into his pocket, removed a small package of pistachios, and offered them to Emma. Then he dumped a few into his palm, opened them, and tossed them into his mouth.

  "Not quite. I ran into Jack Hennessey today at the department. I forgot to ask if you'd talked to him."

  Detective Dolan finished chewing
. "I left a message for him. I suppose it was Tuesday. Anyway, it was after your list came in the mail. I said I needed to ask him some questions about a robbery at your apartment, and I'd like to talk to him. He hasn't called."

  "He told me he was at the department to sign a complaint. His mother's house was trashed."

  "Well, that's interesting," Dolan said. He tossed more pistachios into his mouth.

  "I thought so. I don't know what it means, but it seems awfully coincidental. Maybe the same person is responsible," Emma said.

  Detective Dolan brushed pistachio crumbs from his pants. "What if it's Jack?"

  "That makes no sense. It was his mother's house."

  "Suppose you hired someone to break into an apartment and steal something you knew was there. Then you get a message from a detective asking about a robbery. Might be a good idea to stage a robbery at your house to divert suspicion."

  "No. Jack Hennessey is a gentleman. He lives a shadowy life, but he's one of the best people I know."

  "You sure you're not biased?"

  "Jack's not responsible. I'm sure of it," Emma said.

  Detective Dolan stood up, tucked the bag of pistachios into his pocket, and walked toward the door. "Well, I hope you're right. Can't hurt to contact the detective in his district, though. Might get us somewhere."

  Detective Dolan left the office. Emma watched a chickadee preening on the windowsill and wondered if Jack Hennessey was not the man she thought he was.

  Jack Hennessey left the downtown police station in Denver after talking with Emma and drove his rental car to a shop specializing in laptop bags, briefcases, luggage with wheels, and other high-end leather goods. He was looking for a Christmas present for Emma. He'd noticed her briefcase was well used and worn. He knew his relationship with Emma would not be a romantic one, but he hoped to keep connected to her. He found a soft-sided litigation briefcase in sienna brown. It doubled as both a laptop bag and briefcase. The briefcase was pricey at almost three hundred dollars, but Jack wanted to be sure she'd use it. He thought it was a good investment. He paid cash and asked for a box so he could gift wrap it.

  Jack drove to a neighborhood of nondescript older homes in a suburb adjacent to the downtown area and parked. He made a call on his phone, picked up the box with the briefcase in it, and then walked along the sidewalk opposite the home that was his destination. Jack crossed the street and walked along the edge of a driveway, hugging a recently-trimmed hedge, which was well over his head in height. When he arrived at the man door of the garage, Jack was greeted by an older man with a grizzled beard who was wearing bright red suspenders and a matching red newsboy cap with a short brim and button at the crown.

  Jack clasped the man's hand and gave him a firm handshake. "Henry, good to see you."

  "And you, mate. Come in, come in," the man said. He gestured toward a director's chair. "Sit down. Does it take business to bring you by, man?"

  Jack shook his head woefully. "Sorry to say it's true, Henry. But you've been on my mind since I heard about your troubles," Jack said.

  Henry had developed the habit of gripping the straps of his suspenders with each hand. He extended both straps and let go of them, causing a snapping sound as they contacted his chest. "These are my best friends. I lost a bit of weight, don’t you see."

  "You have. And how is it now? You've been in remission, I hear."

  "So they tell me. I enjoy my days more so. Take time to smell the flowers, as they say." Henry laughed. "And what challenge brings you to the Denver wilderness?"

  Jack removed the briefcase from the box.

  "That's a beauty," Henry said.

  "It is, isn't it. But I need a slight alteration to the interior."

  "Another secret compartment?" Henry laughed.

  "Yes. Here between the lining of the inside and this rigid panel that keeps it upright. If you could give me a compartment about five and one half inches square. It needs to be invisible from both inside and outside the case. I'll need you to sew it again so it looks untouched. Can you do it?"

  "How soon do you need it?"

  "Yesterday."

  "I'll need an hour to open it up. Half-an-hour to close it. Will you fill it here or take it with you?" Henry asked.

  Jack grinned. "I thought you might offer me a Scotch while I wait," he said.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  The first Saturday in December, Emma woke up early, did a four-mile run along the perimeter of the park nearby, and then enjoyed a long shower.

  She gathered ingredients and utensils to make Lynn Favager's Christmas cookie recipe. Lynn's grandmother was from Sweden, and her Spritz cookies were buttery and rich with almond flavoring. Emma inherited the cookie press. She inserted the tree shape into the base, screwed it to the cylinder filled with dough, and squeezed out four rows of trees onto the cookie sheet. Then she set the timer for ten minutes and started on the next sheet. By the time she was finished, Emma had placed four dozen cookies on cooling racks. She did not decorate them with icing or sprinkles. The cookies were plain, but Lynn never decorated them. She said they were true Swedish cookies and spoke for themselves. Emma kept six to enjoy later and arranged the rest in a decorative tin.

  Emma changed into her black leggings, the sequined red sweater that ended mid-thigh, and her spike heels. She grabbed her handbag and the tin of cookies, and headed to the only Christmas party she would attend.

  The Davidson Kelley and Gordon office party was always held at Ryan Kelley's home in Denver. He founded the law firm with Tom Davidson in 1991 when both men turned thirty and decided to strike out on their own. Kelley hosted the company Christmas party for the last ten years. He lived near the country club in a spacious home that included six bedrooms even though he and his wife, Jane, had no children. Every nook and cranny held some type of table and chairs, and each one was a different size and shape, covered with a distinct cloth, and set with a different dish pattern. Jane did not need to work, but she entertained several times a month. Her passion was collecting dishes, and she spared no expense.

  Ally greeted Emma at the door, helped her find a plate for the cookies, and placed them on the dessert table next to the cheesecake with raspberry sauce, an assortment of decorated Christmas cookies, fudge, Baklava, Swedish rosettes, peanut brittle, divinity, cranberry and date cookies, and chewy turtles. Then Emma poured a glass of Chablis and sampled the hors d'oeuvres while visiting with people from the office.

  Although Emma saw the staff in family law regularly, she saw little of the attorneys and support staff in the criminal defense, corporate, and real estate departments. Emma did not like parties as a rule. She guessed others did not like them much, either. It seemed people who attended were always too happy to be there. Emma was reserved by nature, and it was unnatural for her to be bubbly and effusive. Aside from feeling uncomfortable at not being herself, she disliked the loud music, laughter, and conversation. Fortunately, the Kelley home was spacious, and it was easy to slip away and explore.

  Emma left the crowd downstairs and found the library on the second floor. It was dimly lit from the green glow of a banker's lamp on the room's oak desk. The only other light was from small lamps at the end of arms shaped like a broad S and directed at artwork on the walls. Emma noticed the art from the previous year was replaced with something new. When she looked closer, she saw the artist was Monte Dolack, the Montana artist who inspired Eric. Ryan Kelley enjoyed the best of everything. She saw his choice of the Dolack work as validating Eric's good judgment. Among the works on Kelley's wall were Big Fish Small Pond, Leave It to Beavers, Refridgeraiders, and A Beauty. She laughed out loud at A Beauty. It shows a huge rainbow trout reclining on a sofa. Behind the sofa are paintings of nude women. Emma liked to think the afterlife would include deer, elk, bear, and mountain goats with mounted heads of the hunters who killed them hanging on their walls.

  Ally stuck her head in the doorway of the library. "There you are. We're ready to eat. You better get in line or you'l
l be scraping from the bottom of the pot," she said.

  Emma and Ally descended the stairway and headed to the kitchen. A line formed out the kitchen door and into an informal dining area. The line moved slowly with oohs and aahs from everyone as those with full plates passed by in the other direction. The Kelley's were serving prime rib. Members of the staff brought the hot and cold side dishes, salads and desserts. Emma already planned to fall off her diet, but she did not sample all of the selections. She took a small spoonful of potatoes au gratin, a larger spoonful of the vegetable casserole, and a crescent roll. She did not taste the mashed potatoes and gravy, but Ally assured her they were "to die for."

  The staff was not allowed to sit with people from their own departments, so Emma found herself seated at a table in the sun room with the head of the criminal defense department, a secretary from real estate, Tom Davidson, a new attorney in the corporate law department, and the firm's receptionist. The girl was very young, and Emma heard she had no prior experience. She was related to Tom Davidson's golfing partner. Emma nearly lost a client when the receptionist failed to leave a phone message on her desk. The client accepted Emma's explanation, but she always reminded Emma of the incident by adding "be sure you do" whenever Emma promised to get back to her. Emma hoped Tori would be fired. In the meantime, she would need to accept what she could not change.

  After a trip to the dessert table and espresso, the crowd put on their best faces and listened to their inebriated host who rambled on various topics for the better part of thirty minutes and then congratulated them on a good year of "unprecedented growth" and challenged them "to do even better next year." Emma was one of the first to leave. She'd parked her car in the next block to avoid asking someone to move theirs because they were blocking the driveway. As she walked to her car, Emma thought about moving to Buffalo Jump. At least these superficial parties would no longer be necessary. She scraped her windshield and drove home.