Into the Sweet Hereafter

by Kaye George

  “What are you doing, Tally? What’s wrong with these pearls?” Her eyes were worried and a little hostile.

  Tally slumped, resting her hip on her desk. “You remember that woman who accused you of having her ring?”

  Tally heard a siren in the distance, drawing closer. She tried not to react, not to flinch.

  “That old biddy? I sure do. I couldn’t believe it. How could she— Wait.” Dorella touched the pearls again and cocked her head toward the front, hearing the siren, too. “Who did you just call?”

  “She was in here earlier today, Dorella. She said someone had stolen her pearls.”

  Dorella’s eyes opened wide. “So you automatically think Ira stole them?” She spun and stalked through the kitchen, headed for the front door.

  Detective Jackson Rogers came through the door just before Dorella reached it. “What’s this about, Ms. Holt?” he asked, glancing at Dorella, then looking past her while blocking her exit.

  Tally assumed he was being formal, calling her “Ms. Holt” in front of her staff. “Well…” She tilted her head toward Dorella, focusing her eyes on Dorella’s neck from behind her.

  Jackson squinted at both of them, then it dawned on him. “Yes. I see. Ms. Diggs, I have to ask you a few questions.”

  Dorella stomped her right foot. Tally was afraid she might snap off the pretty silver heel. “What’s wrong with you people? Ira gave this to me. He’s not stealing that horrible woman’s jewelry.”

  Jackson used his softest, calmest voice. “I understand. I just need to verify a few things.”

  “I’m not going to the police station. I’ll be late.”

  “We can talk here.”

  Tally piped up. “You can use my office.” She turned her head away so she wouldn’t see the look Dorella gave her as she passed by.

  Molly, still standing where she’d been when she dropped the broom, bent to pick it up and continued sweeping. Lily appeared from the kitchen, also wide-eyed.

  “What’s going on?” Lily asked. “Is Detective Rogers arresting Dorella?”

  “No, no,” Tally said. “I’m not sure what’s going on. But someone, or several someones, have been breaking into people’s houses and stealing things.”

  “Dorella?” Lily asked, incredulous. “Not Dorella.”

  “I seriously doubt it. But that new boyfriend of hers, Ira Mann…he’s given her two things that one of our customers says are hers, jewelry that was stolen from her.”

  Lily shook her head. “Oh man. Poor Dorella. She needs to go back to dating your brother.”

  Tally smiled, in spite of the tension she felt. “I think you’re right.”

  When Jackson emerged twenty minutes later, he looked grim. After he left, Dorella came from the kitchen, without the pearls. Her chin trembled with the effort to keep from crying. “He thinks Ira’s a burglar. He thinks Ira’s robbing people. That’s crazy. Ira is on the crime watch. He’s a Crime Fritzer, one of the good guys. He’s trying to keep those robbers out of everyone’s houses.”

  But wouldn’t that be a handy position to be in? Keeping watch over the neighborhood houses, pretending to protect them, while also being the very person stealing from them. “The detective will get it all straightened out.”

  “What if he doesn’t? What if he arrests Ira?”

  “He can’t arrest him unless he has a reason.”

  “He has a reason. Reasons.” Dorella’s voice rose and tears spilled down her cheeks. “False accusations. But they’re reasons.”

  Tally handed her a tissue from the box behind the counter.

  “Can I use your office a minute more?” Dorella asked. “I have to call Ira.” She dashed back through the kitchen and Tally heard her slam the office door.

  “Should she do that?” Lily said. “Should she warn him like that?”

  “I’m not sure,” Tally said. “Probably not. But I’m not going to wrestle her.” She wondered why Dorella didn’t use her own phone. So the police would never know she warned him?

  Dorella still needed to fix her makeup, Tally observed, as the young woman left after her call. The pearls had worked perfectly with her ensemble. Her neck looked bare.

  Lily hurried through her tasks, probably because she was meeting Raul, and left before Tally and Molly, for once. Molly hadn’t talked about any of this, but Tally could tell she was thinking about it, mulling things over in her mind.

  “What do you think, Ms. Holt?” she asked as they both untied their smocks and hung them on the pegs.

  “I think there are a lot of possibilities, but I don’t know anything for sure.”

  “Like it’s possible Dorella’s new boyfriend is a burglar?”

  “That’s one.”

  “Like Dorella is a burglar?”

  “No, that isn’t one. I don’t think that.” Molly started out the door. “You shouldn’t think that, either.”

  “I guess not. I have to work with her.” Molly stopped in the doorway, holding it open. “I think something good is going to happen.”

  “For you?” Tally hoped that was true, although she hoped it wasn’t a better job somewhere and hoped she wouldn’t lose Molly as an employee. Although that would not be a bad thing for Molly.

  “It’s my dad. Howie has been talking to him.”

  “What about?”

  Molly seemed reluctant to impart her news. “Well, I’m just not sure. But Howie thinks Dad could teach auto mechanics.”

  “Of course he could! What a great idea. Has your dad talked to anyone?”

  “No, and he hasn’t said he wants Howie to talk to anyone, either.”

  “Would he be teaching in high school?”

  “No, junior college. The hours are better. Well, less.”

  “Good luck getting him to consider that. I think it would be great.”

  Molly left with a big grin on her face. More income in her family would certainly ease the pressure on the poor young woman.

  * * * *

  When Tally got home that night, she stewed for at least an hour before calling her brother. It was late in Texas, but it was earlier in Tucson, where he was doing his current sculpture installation.

  “Have you heard from the ’rents?” he asked.

  “They’re fine for now, I think. They’re in Rome, I’m pretty sure. But Dorella isn’t fine.”

  “Now what? I just spoke with her yesterday. She’s still in tight with Ira. She seemed all right.”

  “Did she mention a gift of pearls?”

  “Pearls? Old lady pearls?”

  Tally had to snicker. She would have to give a lot of thought before ever wearing pearls. “That’s exactly what they are. And this time they are probably stolen from the same women Ira took the ring from.”

  “Oh, Dorella. What are you doing? Talk to her, Sis. She has to quit that guy.”

  “I’m with you there. I can’t tell her that, though. He’s probably being arrested, so maybe that will do it.”

  “You know what? I’m finishing up here in another couple of days. Maybe I should come up there and sweep her off her feet.”

  “Again.”

  “I’ll do it for real. For keeps. I’ve been missing her. A lot.”

  Just before Tally climbed into bed, she got a call from her dad’s phone. Nigel was already in position, next to her pillow, warming up the sheets for her.

  “Dad? Everything okay? You got to Rome okay?”

  He huffed into the phone. That didn’t sound good.

  “Dad? You there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. Sorry. Just barely. Your mother and I are being detained.”

  “Detained? What does that mean? Who is detaining you?”

  “We were taken aside going through customs in Rome. At first I couldn’t figure out what the problem could be. They went through
our luggage, but that’s not uncommon. We carry some unusual items for our acts. Costumes that could, I suppose, look like disguises.”

  “Are you okay now?”

  “No, I’m not!”

  Oh dear. Something was very wrong. Tally made her voice smooth and calming. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Your mother and I are in jail cells in Rome. If I figured it out correctly—my Italian isn’t awfully good and no one here speaks English—the customs people think we’re trying to smuggle something.”

  Tally, who had been standing next to her bed, plopped down onto it. Nigel sprang up and jumped to the floor, looking offended. “Smuggling? Really? What do they think you’re smuggling?”

  He gave a weary sigh. “I can’t for the life of me figure that out. They took my satchel, then they grabbed all of Nancy’s stage jewelry and tossed it in a bag. Although that seemed like an afterthought.”

  “They couldn’t think her jewelry is real, could they? It only looks good from the audience, as I recall.”

  “I bought your mother a nice piece in Gibraltar. It’s a clear quartz ring. Not cheap, but not a diamond, which is what they thought it was. I can’t find the receipt for it. But they don’t seem too concerned about that.”

  Tally pictured the satchel he always carried, his man-purse, she always called it. He always objected to that term. “They took your satchel first? What all is in it?”

  “Just the usual things. Some papers. Our schedules, contracts. Extra cash. All of our records.”

  “Dad, that satchel is awfully old. You have things in there from years ago, don’t you? Can you think of anything that would look suspicious? I mean, that would appear that way, even when it’s not?”

  “How could my satchel look suspicious?”

  “What else was in it?”

  “Well, some snacks. A couple of apples, some grapes, a bag of doughnuts from the airport.”

  “Do they have rules about not bringing in food?”

  “If they do, they just confiscate the food and throw it out. They don’t toss us in the slammer, Tally. This is insane!”

  She had to agree with him. Something was going on that she and her dad and mom hadn’t figured out yet.

  After they cut off the call, she went back over everything he had said. Papers. Apples, grapes, and doughnuts. And her mother’s new ring. They couldn’t think they were smuggling that. They would have a receipt. She wanted to see it. Maybe they could send a picture when they were…free.

  Tally slept in Monday morning, the one day a week her shop was closed. It wasn’t to be a day of rest for her, though. She had lain awake fretting for hours about her parents before her worries turned to Dorella. It would make perfect sense for Ira, and possibly a few others, to be breaking into the houses they were supposed to be protecting, but she hoped, over and over, that it would turn out not to be true.

  She stumbled to her kitchen and poured kibble for Nigel, who had been patiently—for a cat—meowing and batting her face at least half an hour. After making a batch of coffee and some toast, she turned on the television in her living room and got a local channel. In a crawler across the bottom of the screen of the morning talk show was the Breaking News flash she had dreaded.

  Son of Fredericksburg fire chief arrested as part of burglary ring. More arrests expected. Address from the Fire Chief Mann at 10:00 this morning.

  That was an hour yet. Poor Mr. Mann. At least it didn’t look like he was part of the “ring,” since he wasn’t arrested. Yet. Just his son. What on earth would he say?

  She heard her phone ringing in the bedroom where she’d left it. She ran in to see that her parents were calling here again. It was her dad’s phone.

  “Dad! Are you free now?”

  “We are not.” His voice was hoarse, weary. He would never be able to perform this way.

  “Is anything going on? Have they told you anything?”

  “They questioned both of us for hours and hours about some powder.”

  “Powder? Like…drugs?”

  “That has to be what they’re thinking. But I have no idea what they’re talking about. They showed me a little bit of powder in a plastic bag. They say it came from my satchel.”

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “Of course not!” She had made him indignant. “I don’t carry white powder around with me.”

  “Oh dear, do you suppose someone planted it on you?”

  “Now you sound melodramatic, dear. No one planted anything. I’ve had the bag with me all the time. They swear it was in with my things.”

  Tally started pacing the room, wondering what would be their defense if someone had actually snuck the powder into her dad’s luggage. Maybe they could test it for fingerprints.

  “Are your fingerprints on the plastic bag? Have they looked at that?”

  “Tally, is wasn’t all in the bag. Some of it was loose in the bottom.”

  That was just too strange. She heard someone telling her dad to cut off the call. She stood still for a moment trying hard to think. She was concentrating so hard, she ignored her phone, before gradually realizing it was ringing. Dorella was calling her. With more than a little trepidation, knowing this was another crisis, she answered it.

  “Tally,” Dorella wailed. “They’ve arrested Ira! They really did!”

  “Have you talked to him?”

  “He called me from the jail just now. I wonder if they questioned him all night. Can they do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Probably. “Did they pick him up last night? What did he say?”

  “He said—he said—” She broke down sobbing.

  “Do you want me to come over?” Tally asked. This was too hard over the phone.

  “No.” Dorella cut the call off.

  Was she angry with Tally for calling the detective? She certainly had every right to be. But there had to be a reason Ira had been arrested, more than just Dorella wearing jewelry that resembled the stolen items. It was becoming more apparent that her suspicions had been right. When she tried to call Dorella back, it went to voice mail. She took a deep breath and poured herself another cup of coffee.

  It was almost ten by then, Tally realized. She rinsed her toast plate and knife and carried the cup of coffee into her living room. She turned on the television to see the public announcement by the fire chief. What could he possibly say?

  She perched on the edge of the couch and soon learned. Not much.

  He started by congratulating the police for investigating the string of home burglaries. No mention of an arrest. No mention of his son, Ira. He acted like the breaking news had never happened. He went on to talk about the tremendous progress the city leaders were making and ended by hoping the danger to the citizens of “our fair city” would soon feel safer.

  That was one way to deal with embarrassing relatives, Tally guessed. Just ignore them. The problem here was that this made the chief look complicit. Like he was covering something up. She expected Dorella to call about it, but her phone remained silent.

  After a shower and getting dressed, with still no more word from Dorella, Tally dallied with the idea of going to see her, but decided instead to go look in on Mrs. Gerg. Maybe she’d stop at Dorella’s after that. Give her time to get herself together. Or to finish falling apart.

  16

  Yolanda paced her small living room, almost wearing a rut in the thin, expensive area rug in front of her brocade couch. Tomorrow, Tuesday, she would be back at work. Raul would be, too. Maybe. She had to decide how to act toward him. Her first choice would be… well, normal. To act like he hadn’t scared the daylights out of her by trying to steal the remaining jade-filled fake candies. But no, of course he hadn’t. Had he? She didn’t know for sure who the intruder had been. It could very well have been Mateo.

  Was Raul involved in this whole mes
s? Smuggling jade? Intercepting the route to steal it? Then trying again to steal it when the interception went wrong? Or was it all Mateo? If Mateo was even involved.

  The tension, working with Raul on Sunday, had been intense. He briefly mentioned that the police had talked to him the night before, but didn’t offer up any more information about that, other than to ask her if she was okay, after someone crept into the place to—maybe—steal the jade while she was there, cowering on the floor.

  She had sent him out on errand after errand to avoid talking to him about any of it, since she didn’t know what to say, what to think. At the end of the day she had enough ribbon, tissue paper, and plastic overwrap to last at least three months. Raul hadn’t complained about all the unnecessary trips, but had started giving her funny looks.

  On Monday, the day Bella’s Baskets was closed, Yolanda had lunch with Kevin. She didn’t mention the events of Saturday night. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because Kevin was already fully convinced she should fire Raul, just because he was related to Mateo. Was she afraid Kevin would talk her into doing it?

  She wasn’t looking forward to Tuesday morning one little bit. Halting in her frantic circuit around the living room, she plopped into her wingback chair and let her head loll against the right-hand wing. There was only one thing to do. She would have to bring everything out into the open. There would have to be a conversation with Raul. This quiet suspicion couldn’t go on. She couldn’t take the tension.

  * * * *

  On Monday Tally busied herself during the day with errands and housework, putting everything else off. When her father called her in the afternoon, she pounced on the phone. She hadn’t called them, thinking maybe it would be better to let them call her. She didn’t know if they were still being detained and probably couldn’t call them if they were.

  This time it was her mom. “Tally, you’ll never guess what it was.”

  Tally had been unloading the dishwasher and immediately started drumming her fingers on the kitchen counter. “I’m sure you’re right. Can you tell me?” At least her mother sounded happy, not distraught. “Are you out of jail?”

  “Yes, finally. You father had bought doughnuts. Powdered sugar doughnuts.”