He also cared for her, Abby knew, although their relationship was still in a casual dating stage. Henry had been the person who found Mary trapped in her car after it had spun off the road into a ravine when she tried to avoid hitting a deer on a rain-slick island road. The Jaws of Life had been needed to extract her from the crumpled car, and a helicopter was called in to evacuate her to a Seattle hospital. Without Henry, Mary probably wouldn't have survived the accident.
“It was a big change in her life when she lost the use of her legs in the accident. She's still coping with both the physical and emotional aspects of it. Keeping as independent as possible is important to her.”
“The accident was a big change for you too,” Henry pointed out. “You left your home and work in New York and moved back here to the island to be with her.”
“And we’re both doing fine,” Abby said firmly.
A voice apparently came over the phone then and Henry swiveled his chair so his back was to Abby while he talked to his superior officer. He put the phone down when he turned to face her again. The overhead light gleamed on the sevenpointed star on his tan shirt.
“Well, Sheriff Dutton thinks your idea about putting the necklace in a safe deposit box is the way to go, although it will have to be a box in the name of the sheriff's department, not your personal box. We can walk over to the bank together and make the arrangements.”
“There really isn't any need for me to go along, is there?”
“I think you should.” Henry smiled. “That way you know I’m not absconding with the necklace myself. Three million bucks is quite a temptation, you know. I could buy myself a tropical island. Maybe a yacht and a high-powered speedboat to go with it.”
“Henry Cobb, you wouldn't abscond with something that didn't belong to you if it were worth thirty million dollars,” Abby declared. “You’re too honest. And much too good a man for anything like that.”
Henry dipped his head in a small bow. “Thanks. I appreciate the vote of confidence.” He smiled. “Perhaps you should write that in a note of recommendation to Mary? I think I need all the help I can get.”
Abby smiled back. “Any time.”
“But I want you along anyway. And I need to give you something that shows you turned the necklace over to me.”
He searched through several drawers that looked much like the drawers in Abby's desk before she’d cleaned and reorganized them. Soon he found the form he wanted and made out a receipt showing the date and a description of the item received from her. Abby folded and tucked the form in her purse.
The bank was just down Municipal Street from the substation, a short, pleasant walk on this invigorating morning. Henry carried the necklace, now in a large, official looking envelope with the sheriff's insignia in the corner. A scent of fresh rain still lingered in the air, but the main storm had blown over and a bit of sun peeped out from between the swiftly moving clouds overhead.
At the bank, Henry stepped up to the counter where customers signed in to enter the vault where safe deposit boxes were located. He told the clerk he wanted to rent a box.
While he was doing that, Abby was pleased to note a fresh bouquet of fall chrysanthemums, zinnias and ferns, no doubt from Island Blooms, in a big brass vase farther down the counter. She looked up from the flowers when Steven Jarvis charged out of his office and strode toward them.
Steven's shaved head always momentarily startled Abby. A shaved head was definitely outside the norm for Sparrow Island, even more outside the norm, she suspected, for the manager of a conservative bank. She knew that in Steven's case it was not, however, a rebellion against bank or local standards; the shaved head was simply Steven's way of coping with the fact that he was going prematurely bald. She rather admired his bold stand, and the surprising fact was that the shaved head looked good on him. Under his vigorous direction, the bank had done very well in the past three years.
“Sergeant Cobb,” he said heartily. “And Abby Stanton. Good to see both of you. Are you getting everything you need taken care of here?”
He sounded solicitous, and Abby knew he probably was, but she also heard the curiosity and perhaps a bit of concern in his voice. She doubted he rushed out of his office whenever the average client wanted to rent a safe deposit box. He eyed the lumpy, official-looking envelope Henry had set on the counter. What, his wary expression asked, is the top officer in law enforcement on Sparrow Island doing in my bank on what appears to be official business?
“Nothing wrong, I hope?” Steven added, when Henry bypassed the opportunity to explain why they were there.
“Everything's fine,” Abby assured him while Henry went on filling out the application form.
Steven straightened a pad of scratch paper on the counter as he watched Henry sign his name. He replaced a bank pen in its holder. He straightened his tie and eyed the sheriff's department star embroidered on Henry's green jacket. “Official business?” he finally asked, his carefully casual tone failing to conceal his curiosity.
“Yes,” Henry answered.
Henry's polite but uninformative manner indicated that was all he intended to say, and Abby saw a twinge of frustration on Steven Jarvis's smooth-shaven face. The clerk handed Henry two keys. Steven glanced at Abby as if assuming she’d get one key. She didn’t, of course. The necklace was in the custody of the sheriff ‘s department now, much to her relief.
“I’d like to put something in the box now, please,” Henry said, and the clerk pushed a button that gave him access through the small gate in the counter. Henry picked up his envelope and disappeared into the vault with the woman.
Steven eyed Abby as if hoping she’d be more talkative than Henry had been. She was, but not about this official business, since she felt it was up to Henry whether or not he wanted to say what that business was.
“Quite a storm we had last night, wasn't it?” she offered conversationally.
“Storm?” Steven's gaze remained on the door to the vault. “Oh yes. Of course. The storm.”
“The rain we had here was probably snow in the mountains, so you’ll no doubt be skiing soon.”
There was no skiing on Sparrow Island, but Steven's enthusiasm for the sport was well known. Now, however, skiing seemed to be the last thing on his mind. His only comment was a distracted sounding, “Hmmm.”
“We’ll be opening a new exhibit at the museum before long,” Abby went on. “‘Bird Flight and Early Human Flight.’”
“That's interesting.” Although not, obviously, as interesting to Steven as whatever Sergeant Cobb was doing in his bank.
“Perhaps you’d like to come out and see it,” she suggested.
“Right. I’ll do that.”
Abby doubted he had any idea what he’d agreed to. She smiled and tested him. “Bring your skis.”
“Yes, I’ll do that.” Steven's gaze suddenly focused on her. He frowned, skin on his shaved head pulling tight, as if he realized something about this conversation had gone awry but he wasn't certain just what.
Henry came out of the vault. He was still carrying the official-looking envelope, but it was no longer lumpy.
“Everything okay?” Steven asked, obviously still hoping for information. “Not using the bank for storing pipe bombs or sticks of dynamite for criminal evidence, I hope?” He smiled broadly to indicate he was joking.
“Everything's fine,” Henry assured him.
“Well, have a good day,” the banker called as Abby and Henry headed for the door. He sounded frustrated.
At the last minute Henry relented and turned back. In a low tone he said to Jarvis, “The sheriff's department has custody of a rather valuable piece of jewelry, which is now in one of your safe deposit boxes. We have full confidence in the bank's security system and know it will be safe here.”
Steven Jarvis was smiling again. “You can rest assured of that.”
Outside, Abby looked at Henry and smiled. “You rather enjoyed that, didn't you?”
“Enjoyed w
hat?” Henry asked innocently.
“Making Steven Jarvis practically squirm with curiosity before you told him what an officer of the law was doing on official business in his bank.”
“Now Abby, do you really think I’d do something like that?” Henry's tone was reproachful, but he laughed and she joined him. “But he was squirming a bit, wasn't he?” He peered at himself in a store window as they walked past. “I wonder how I’d look with a shaved head.”
Abby decided it was a rhetorical question and didn't offer a response, which would definitely have been negative. Her car was still at the sheriff's substation, so they walked back together. With the three-million-dollar necklace no longer weighing her down, Abby felt hummingbird light, delightfully free. Although, she had to admit, her curiosity about the necklace and its mysterious owner had decreased not one iota.
“I’ll let you know if I find out anything about a missing necklace,” Henry said when they parted company at the substation.
“And I’ll let you know if I turn up any information about a Claudia.” Abby started to ask if Henry would be coming to the house that evening, then remembered Mary would be out. Anyway, it was up to Mary to issue invitations, not her. She knew Mary definitely cared for Henry, but there was that matter of her fierce independence.
The rest of the day went well, though the museum felt rather empty with no more than a handful of people strolling through all day. On reflection though, Abby suspected with a certain chagrin that it was more Hugo's absence than lack of tourists that made the place feel empty for her.
That evening, Abby had the house to herself. Mary had driven to the class she was teaching on flower arranging at Island Blooms. With the van that had been modified for wheelchair use, Mary could go almost anywhere she wanted by herself and didn't have to depend on Abby to chauffeur her around.
Abby settled in the den and turned on her laptop. In minutes she was on the Internet. Gordon Siebert had said that many large and valuable gems had documented histories. With all the information that was available on the Internet, covering almost every conceivable subject, she was hoping to find something helpful.
Putting “blue diamonds” into a search engine turned up a surprising number of Web sites. One site was devoted exclusively to the Hope Diamond. Several sites were selling the gems, sometimes loose, sometimes mounted into glittering rings or necklaces.
The array of items available for purchase on the various sites was quite dazzling. One ring held three blue diamonds, one large central stone and two smaller side stones. A collar type, gold-band necklace held a lone, spectacular blue gem. One piece of blue-diamond jewelry, which rather astonished Abby, was made to be worn as a belly button adornment.
But none of the jewelry—and Abby was certain she was being quite objective in her judgment—was nearly as spectacular and dazzling as the necklace she’d found hidden in her very own desk. Puzzling, so very puzzling.
Then, just when she was about to give up for the night, she stumbled onto a site devoted to specific histories about a number of gems. And there she found information that truly electrified her. Perhaps the diamond necklace hidden in her desk was not only beautiful and valuable, but also famous.
CHAPTER SIX
ABBY PRINTED OUT THE information and took it to the museum with her in the morning. She was rather late arriving and Hugo's car was already in the parking lot when she pulled into her usual spot. He’d apparently returned to the island on an early ferry. She stopped in her own office just long enough to hang her jacket behind her door and then hurried down to Hugo's office. She had so much to tell him!
His door wasn't closed when she arrived but he hastily shoved some papers into a drawer when she peeked through the open doorway.
“Abby, everything go okay in my absence?”
“Oh yes, fine. No problems.”
He smiled. “Well, maybe I’m not as essential around here as I like to think I am, then?”
Hugo sounded cheerful, but again Abby detected that uncharacteristic note of too-hearty joviality. Half a dozen questions poised on the end of her tongue. Why did you go to Seattle? What did you do there? But again he obviously didn't want to confide in her, so she laid her receipt from Henry and the computer printout on his desk.
“First, I took the necklace into Siebert's Jewelry. Gordon Siebert had never seen it before. But he identified the center stone as a blue diamond and the clear stones that encircle it as diamonds also. Even the tiny stones in the entwined strands are diamonds. He estimated the necklace's value as at least three million.”
Although Hugo had earlier seemed less interested in the necklace than Abby would have expected, these blunt facts got his attention.
“Three million dollars?” he repeated. “Are you sure?”
“Three million or more. Gordon Siebert said that was a very conservative figure.”
“Abby, that's incredible. How could something like that possibly wind up here at the museum?”
Abby had no answer, of course. “So then I took the necklace to Henry …Sergeant Cobb . . . at the sheriff's substation. He's going to check for reports of a missing or stolen necklace. For now, he put the necklace in a safe deposit box at the bank.” She pushed the receipt Henry had given her for the necklace toward Hugo, but he didn't pick it up.
“And then, because Gordon Siebert said valuable gems often have documented histories, last night I went on the Internet and did some research.”
Hugo eyed the computer printout. After the initial shock of the necklace's worth, his attention seemed to have faded again. He picked up a brass letter opener and toyed with it. “And you found something, I take it?”
“Oh yes. Something quite interesting. You can read it for yourself—”
“Maybe you can just give me the gist of it?”
Abby wasn't truly surprised, given his dismissive attitude the day she’d found the necklace, but she was still puzzled. It just wasn't like Hugo to be so . . . what? Not bored, but certainly not as intrigued by this mystery as she was.
“I found a site that gave information about a long list of famous gemstones, about twenty of which were blue diamonds. There was much information about some of the stones, all about their size, history and current ownership. But little is known about many of the others. I found one description of a blue diamond that closely matches the one in my desk. It's called the Blue Moon.”
“The Blue Moon.” Hugo repeated the name as if he found it mildly interesting. “A colorful word picture. Someone had an imagination.”
“All of the well-known gems seem to have names, although the origin of the name is often not known.”
“So in what way does this Blue Moon match the necklace in your desk?” Hugo didn't sound truly disbelieving, but he did sound as if he needed convincing.
“Gordon Siebert measured the stone and said it was twenty-one carats. The Blue Moon is twenty-one carats. None of the others on the list were that exact carat size. It's large enough to be quite rare.”
“But there are probably other blue diamonds that aren't on the list that do weigh twenty-one carats.”
“Yes, that's true, of course. Gordon also said this diamond was cut in an older style called a cushion cut. The cut of the twenty-one carat gem on the Web site was not specifically named, but it was originally cut in 1888, when the cushion cut was popular.”
“Can't gems be identified by what shows up inside with a microscope? I’ve heard flaws can be almost like a fingerprint.”
“Yes, I think so. Gordon said this one has a couple of small flaws, but the Web site didn't mention the Blue Moon as having any. So that isn't helpful for identification.”
“Was there a photo on the Web site?”
“Yes, but it's very old, just a fuzzy black-and-white shot. The diamond was also in a different setting back when the photo was taken, one of those old-fashioned, fussy styles. Not particularly attractive, actually, and not nearly as spectacular as the current setting.”
“So the photo itself can't actually be used to identify the necklace.”
“True.”
“Abby, I’m not trying to be some grumpy spoilsport here, but it just seems so unlikely that a diamond with a name and a three-million-dollar value could turn up here. This is the kind of thing that happens in a Gothic novel. Maiden trapped in crumbling castle finds famous gem lost for a century, saves the family estate from the greedy, mortgage-foreclosing villain. It just doesn't seem likely here on Sparrow Island, and comparable size and cut of the diamond itself really aren't much to go on.”
“I suppose my imagination could be running away with me,” Abby admitted. It had certainly done so at the house when she imagined prowlers everywhere, stomping on the front steps and climbing the rose trellis. “But it is a twenty-one carat blue diamond. No imagination about that. And it is worth an exorbitant amount of money.”
He eyed her for a moment. “Actually, although you have been known to have an active imagination on an occasion or two, I think you’re quite well grounded in reality, not given to wild speculations. Scientific people usually are sensible. I’ve also never known you to be short on good sense.” He paused, and for a moment she thought he was going to plunge into a different subject entirely. Instead he shifted in his chair and said, “I don't suppose there was an owner's name on the Internet?”
“No. The raw diamond was supposed to have been discovered in India in the 1880s. It was cut in France and had several owners, a king and various noblemen among them. But at some point about the time of World War II it disappeared, although whether it was stolen or sold to someone who wanted to remain anonymous is unclear. There are rumors that it's here in the States now, probably reset, but the owner is unknown.”
“Well, in any case, the gem's history probably doesn't matter now that the sheriff's department is handling the situation. It's out of our hands.” There again was that dismissive attitude, which seemed so unlike Hugo. Ordinarily he’d be as eager as she to find out more about the blue diamond and locate its owner.
The Blue Moon Page 5