The Scrimshaw Set: Books 1 & 2

by Gayle Hayes

  When Emma checked her phone before turning it off for the night, she found a message from Jack Hennessey. He wanted to give her an early Christmas gift and wondered if they could get together for dinner the next day.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Jack Hennessey was genuinely disappointed because Emma was not available for dinner with him. He would be leaving Denver for New York on Monday and did not expect to return until after the first of the year. He wanted to give Emma the Christmas gift he'd bought after seeing her at the police station. Emma said she needed Sunday to write a brief that was due the next day. Jack suspected she made up the brief as an excuse to avoid him. While it was acceptable to him to continue seeing Emma as a friend, he thought she might still believe he was pursuing her romantically.

  Emma would have enjoyed dinner on Sunday with Jack, but she did have a brief due to be filed first thing Monday morning. With appointments, court, drop-in visitors, and a staff meeting the previous week, she'd not been able to find a time that was sufficiently long and quiet to get her thoughts together. Sometimes Emma envied Ally. She left her work at the office. Her time away from the office was her own. Then again, Emma knew she was well compensated for her work at the law firm. She also thought it was best not to give Jack any false hope.

  Monday morning Emma handed Ally the brief to file with the court and looked through the mail on her desk. She was drafting an affidavit in support of her client's motion for temporary custody when Ally knocked at the door while balancing a huge box wrapped with silver and blue Christmas paper and tied with blue ribbon. Emma found a card tucked under a blue bow six inches in diameter and sprinkled with silver glitter. The card was from Jack Hennessey and wished Emma a Merry Christmas. She carefully opened the package to preserve the bow and wrapping, removed the tape placed on all four edges, and lifted the lid and a layer of white tissue paper. The smell of new leather was her first sensation. Then she removed the briefcase and was impressed with how handsome and well-crafted it was. In the bottom of the box was a note from Jack.

  Dear Emma,

  Knowing you only a little, I'm sure your first reaction to this gift will be dismay, but I hope you will enjoy it anyway. Although I hoped we might be more than friends, I would rather have you as a friend than not at all. Please accept this gift and know it comes without strings attached. I noticed your briefcase was worn and thought you could use a new one. As your friend, I only want what's best for you.

  As I mentioned on the phone, I will be out of the states until after the first of the year. I hope we can enjoy lunch or dinner then. In the meantime, please enjoy the briefcase. You deserve the best of everything.

  Fondly,

  Jack

  Ally squealed with delight when she saw the briefcase. Emma was stunned. She knew the gift was far too expensive for her to accept. Still, she believed Jack's sentiments were genuine. Her briefcase was worn, but it was a trusted companion. She'd had it since law school. Her laptop case was newer, but it was also showing wear. Carrying one case would give her a free hand. Emma decided to accept the gift in the spirit of the season. Although she thought Christmas was too commercial, it was one more reality she would have to accept because she could not change it. Emma removed the desiccant packet, an embossed card from the man who'd crafted the briefcase, a glossy advertisement for the manufacturer's other products, and the key. She slipped the key on her ring next to the apartment key, and started emptying her old briefcase into the new one. She zipped it shut, and stroked the surface. It felt and looked wonderful. It would be heavier than the old one, but she would not be able to toss it around. So, it might stay as handsome as it was now.

  Jack's contact in the Denver suburb did an excellent job of creating the secret compartment in the briefcase. Even though Jack knew it was there, he could not find it. Now that Emma had filled the briefcase with her laptop, legal pads, folders, and legal documents, she would never see that Jack had placed his future in her hands.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Monday afternoon Emma walked to her office building after a court appearance. She was nearly at the elevator when she recognized the bald head of Detective Dolan as he stood with his back to her. She guessed he shaved his head, because it was completely smooth. Emma spoke loudly so she would not startle him.

  "Detective, what brings you here?"

  Emma moved to his right side. He was holding the ditty box that she'd inherited from Frances Favager and handed over to the thief in her apartment.

  "Ohmygosh. Where did you find it?" she asked.

  Detective Dolan laughed. "Well, I guess I don't have to ask if you recognize this," he said.

  The detective followed Emma onto the elevator. She pressed the button for the fourth floor.

  "I can't wait to hear the details. When? How? Who?"

  "Saturday. I called you, but your phone went right to message. There's too much to tell you in a message. I was off duty yesterday."

  Emma and the detective stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall to the reception area of Davidson Kelley and Gordon. When they passed the receptionist, the detective asked how long she'd worked for the firm.

  "Tori's been here about three months. Why do you ask?"

  Dolan leaned toward Emma and whispered. "You might choose to overlook this like you did Crystal, but that young lady could've got you killed."

  They entered Emma's office. Dolan set the ditty box on the desk and disregarded Emma's offer to sit.

  "Take a good look at it. Make sure it's all there," he said.

  Emma counted the pieces and held each one long enough to inspect it. "It looks fine. Where did you get it?"

  "This is the strangest case I've handled in a long time. It's enough to make me believe in karma." Dolan paced the office while organizing his thoughts.

  "Here's what we know. A new employee at Denver Pawn called 9-1-1 last Saturday. He said someone left a box of scrimshaw with him and would be back after lunch. The employee was new and convinced the man he would need his boss's approval before he could loan the man the $850 he wanted. The clerk was suspicious of the scrimshaw because the man who brought it in thought it was worth about $1,000. The clerk's grandfather owned a scrimshaw collection. That's how he got interested in the pawn business. So he knew this scrimshaw was worth way more than $1,000. He figured it must be hot. We were waiting for the guy who brought it in when he came back after lunch."

  "Was he the one who robbed me?"

  "No. This is where it gets good. He's been sharing his apartment with a guy who told him he was from Montana, got bored, and wanted to live in a bigger city again. Last Wednesday this roommate was taken in for questioning by District 2. The arresting officer told him he was a suspect in a series of purse snatchings in this area and in New York City last January. The officer showed him a composite sketch done with descriptions from a dozen victims. One witness lived above the street in New York and saw a woman get hit by a delivery truck after he grabbed her package."

  "Frances?" Emma asked.

  "I'm sure of it. Here's the kicker. Before he left Montana, he worked at the airport," Dolan said.

  "Are you saying the guy who snatched Frances' package in New York moved to Montana and worked for the airline that lost my scrimshaw?"

  "Not quite. The airline didn't just lose it. This guy worked alone with access to the bags before they were loaded on the flight. The airline suspected him a long time ago, but they couldn't find him. They got the FBI involved. It's a federal offense to steal from luggage. It's transported over state lines. He's looking at five years in federal prison. New York wants him, too. The DA here agreed to drop the misdemeanor theft charges in the purse snatchings and the robbery charge in your case if he'd confess to the theft on Thanksgiving. He took the deal," Dolan said.

  "But how did he know I had the scrimshaw? It was in Mrs. Hennessey's luggage."

  "The guy took the scrimshaw out of your bag to pawn and almost got caught. He says he unzipped your bag and
stuffed the scrimshaw inside in a hurry. He remembered a pink pompon on the bag. He agreed it was possible he put the scrimshaw in another bag with a pink pompon on it. He said he was moving pretty fast so he wouldn't get caught. He remembered your name from the luggage tag. He says he bought his mother some Favarger chocolate in Ontario for Mother's Day. Her name is Emma, too. So he remembered your name," Dolan said.

  "But how'd he find me? I never put my address on my luggage. I'm not listed anywhere."

  "That's where your receptionist comes into it."

  "Was Tori involved?" Emma asked.

  "No. He found you online under the law office staff and called the office number. He told Tori he needed to deliver a perishable fruit basket to you but the address got wet and he couldn't make it out. Tori looked up your home address in the company roster and gave it to him. He waited until Thanksgiving. He thought you'd be away from home. You bit him pretty good. I could see teeth marks on his arm."

  "But if he was arrested, how did the roommate know about the scrimshaw?" Emma asked.

  "He didn't. He got nosy and went through the few things the guy stashed in his room. He needed a small loan, and he thought the whale teeth must be worth something. He figured the guy who owned it wouldn't be coming back anyway. Geez. I'm still dumbfounded by this case. It's the reason I love what I do. You got to know there's a God when you can stick it to a guy like that," Dolan laughed.

  "So the man who robbed me only got caught because he also robbed Frances. I guess it's true. What goes around comes around. Did he confess to snatching her package?"

  "He remembered a lady in New York City getting hit by a truck. He tossed her package in the alley next to the post office. He thought he'd be blamed for her death. Up to that time, he didn't think he hurt anyone by taking a purse. He found more junk than money in them, anyway." Detective Dolan laughed.

  "What's his name?" Emma asked.

  "Donald Curtiss. There's a double S in Curtiss."

  "Well, I don't know him. I'm glad he confessed. It saves everybody a lot of time and trouble."

  Detective Dolan told Emma he'd need to keep the scrimshaw set as evidence, but he expected the man in custody to plead guilty, so the evidence would be returned sooner rather than later.

  "I think you better have a talk with that young lady out front, Emma. She might be too young to be suspicious of people yet, but she must know giving your address violates company policy. She should be fired," he said.

  "I'll tell Mr. Davidson. It really isn't up to me. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your work on this. Please thank the others for me. I feel really fortunate to live in Denver right now."

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Emma put off calling Jack as long as she could. She found his number in her contacts and was surprised when he answered.

  "Hell-o, Jack. It's Emma. I want to thank you for the briefcase."

  "It's good to hear from you. I was thinking about you this morning, as a matter of fact."

  "The briefcase is very nice, Jack, but you were too generous. I don't have anything for your Christmas."

  "It was my pleasure. I hope you will think of me when you use it. Did you retire your old one?" Jack asked.

  "I transferred the stuff from it to the new one right away."

  "Good. I hoped you'd start using it. How's the weather in Denver?"

  "Pleasant. I enjoy the change of seasons. Where are you? Or can you tell me?"

  "I can't. But I will say I've been here for two days, and my luggage arrived today."

  "Jack, do you by any chance remember if your mother put a pink pompon on her luggage to help her spot it at the baggage claim?"

  "I do remember something on it. Yes. It was a bath sponge. I bought her a very expensive set. I was dismayed to see one of them on her luggage. Why do you ask?"

  "The police caught the man who took my scrimshaw at the airport in Montana. He remembered the pink pompon on my bag. They think he was in a hurry to put the scrimshaw back and chose another bag with a similar pompon on it."

  "I'm glad to hear they caught him. A detective asked if I knew anything about the robbery at your apartment. Did they locate the man who tied you up?"

  "It was the same one. The really strange part is he was arrested here for snatching purses. A woman in New York described him as the man who robbed my…Frances right before she was killed by the truck."

  "Well, you know what they say about truth being stranger than fiction, Emma. I'm glad they found him. Enjoy the briefcase. I'm sorry I need to go now. Merry Christmas," he said.

  "Same to you. Take care."

  Emma sat back in her chair and took a deep breath. It seemed all the pieces finally came together, and the puzzle was solved. She was surprised she felt no excitement about her conversation with Jack. She wondered when the mystery and attraction lost its luster. Eric was far away, too, but she still looked forward to seeing him. Jack was more like an eccentric uncle who breezed in and out of her life with gifts and adventure but could not be counted on in a pinch. She knew Eric would always be there for her no matter what happened. She was anxious to tell him about the break in her case. Before she could call him, Eric called her.

  "Hey, Emma, I haven't heard from you. Are you okay?"

  "I'm great. I was about to call you. The police found the man who robbed me."

  "That was fast."

  "It was an unusual string of events. They arrested a man who fit the description of someone who was wanted for snatching purses. Then his roommate tried to get a loan with the scrimshaw he found in the first man's belongings. Once they connected the first man to the scrimshaw, they started questioning him. They tied him to Frances' package in New York, my luggage in Montana, and my apartment here. It was great police work. There was more than one district involved, and they coordinated information so it all came together. Plus, it was a very unusual case. Even Detective Dolan said he'd not seen anything like it in years. I owe a lot to the Denver PD."

  "Does that mean you're thinking about staying there?" Eric asked.

  "No. It's one advantage of living in a bigger city. I still love Buffalo Jump. Sometimes when I'm really stressed, I close my eyes and picture Main Street from my father's office. What's it like now? Cold?"

  "It's cold, but not below zero or anything. I'm glad you still think about it. I think about you all the time."

  "I feel like I'm very close to leaving here. I miss you, and I miss Montana. It's like I need something to nudge me out of my comfort zone. As much as I complain about my job, it's a known quantity. I like the people I work with, and I'd miss the interaction. I'd need to build a client base in Montana. I've got a lot of years ahead of me. If I don't practice law in Buffalo Jump, I could go through my inheritance pretty fast. It's scary."

  "You know I'd take care of you."

  "I know you would, and I thank you for offering. But it should be a last resort."

  "Have you thought about coming for a visit after the holidays?"

  "I'm working on it. I'm also trying to think of something for your Christmas. Can you give me any hints?"

  "You're all I want for Christmas, Emma."

  "Well, some wishes can't come true. I hope you'll be patient."

  "I've got nothing else to do. I'll be here whenever you're ready. But don't wait too long. You might not like me as much when I'm bald and wrinkled."

  "I promise not to take that long. I found a gray hair the other day. It freaked me out."

  "I have to get back to work. I'm glad we had a chance to catch up," Eric said.

  "Take care. Think of something for Christmas. Give me a list, and I'll surprise you with something. I'm sorry. I've never been good at gifts."

  "I'll see what I can do."

  "Bye."

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Carole Wylie was stringing tiny white Christmas lights on the Scotch pine in the corner of the hospitality room at the Buffalo Jump Inn. She'd never bought a tree for herself. Her living room was small, and no one
came by to appreciate a tree. She preferred to decorate for Phyllis. If this year was like the last five or so, she would spend time in front of the fire enjoying the tree and the Christmas music on Phyllis' satellite dish. Before she started draping tinsel on the branches, Carole took a break to sample the first batch of decorated cookies prepared by Phyllis' staff. Each guest of the inn would find a plate of cookies in his room. Guests of the restaurant would enjoy cookies and a complimentary scoop of vanilla ice cream as dessert.

  Phyllis finished writing on a Christmas card to Emma, and then gestured towards Carole with the card. "Do you want to add anything to this card for Emma?"

  Carole never sent Christmas cards. She thought the cards with nothing more than a signature were a waste of paper and postage. She disliked the printed Christmas letters written in the third person as if her friends hired a public relations firm to make them look good. She didn't resent getting a letter that was not personal. Many of her friends still worked outside their homes, and writing individual letters would be too much to ask. Carole objected to the tone. The audience was varied, so the writer was always careful to elaborate on the positive and gloss over the negative. There were exceptions, of course. The worst ones were Christmas letters informing her of the death of a spouse or parent. Even if she didn't know the deceased, it bothered her when their passing was mentioned between the Caribbean cruise and the new hybrid vehicle. The language of the letters was also vexing. "Winter saw Dan, Jr. take first place at the downhill ski races." "Summer saw us harvesting an abundant garden and camping at Lake Wannabe." Perhaps because she was a writer, Carole was very sensitive to language. She was not as offended by spelling errors as by pomposity. People see things. Seasons do not. Carole was still wondering whether or not she could add anything to Phyllis' card.