“I’m glad God made seals,” Bobby announced.
Walking on the beach with Bobby was always an interesting experience. Every shell, rock, feather and scrap of driftwood had to be examined, every bulb of kelp squished or popped. Gulls swooped and squawked overhead, and once a blue heron flew by, wings flapping with languid grace, long legs trailing behind.
Abby offered to carry Bobby's plastic bag of treasures as it grew heavier, but he’d soon collected another bag almost as heavy.
They talked about everything from what was going on at Bobby's school to information he’d found on the Internet about underwater volcanoes to the fact that he’d grown threequarters of an inch in the last six months. She told him about the new exhibit and was astonished when ornithopter turned out to be not a new word to him at all. He knew exactly what an ornithopter was.
“You can buy models on the Internet to put together. Some of them are powered with a rubber band. If I make one, will you put it in your exhibit?” he asked.
“Indeed I will. Sounds like a great idea.”
Abby hadn't thought about the house that had formerly belonged to Liberty Washington until she spotted it high up on the far side of Wayfarer Point Road. She suddenly wondered if the current owners might know how to reach the widow and made a mental note to herself to check that out.
Their progress was slow, but Abby and Bobby did make it to the “funny rock” near the big curve in the island. They both clambered up its rough but slippery sides, stopping along the way to inspect every clinging starfish and mussel, of course. Afterward, they shared hot chocolate at the McDonald house. Sandy wrinkled her nose and declared they both smelled as if they’d been wallowing in a boatload of fish.
Abby sniffed the jacket hanging on the back of her chair. Yes, she had to admit, it did have a certain fishy aroma.
“But maybe it's like that old saying ‘Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder,’” Sandy added. “Only in this case it might be, ‘Fragrance is in the nose of the smeller.’”
Bobby, ever the charmer said, “You’re beautiful, Mom. And you smell good too.”
Abby and Sandy just looked at each other and laughed, and Sandy gave her son a hug.
THAT NIGHT, Abby woke suddenly. She jerked upright in bed, muscles rigid as she realized the phone on her nightstand was ringing. Middle-of-the-night phone calls were not usually harbingers of good news. Her parents? She snatched up the phone. “Hello?”
“It does, Abby, it really does! It glows in the dark!”
Abby slumped back against the pillow, smiling in spite of the scare the ringing phone had given her. She didn't have to ask the caller's identity or what he was talking about. “I’m glad to hear that, Bobby. Now go back to bed.” She peered at the red numbers on her digital clock. “It's after midnight.”
“Did I wake you up? I’m sorry. I thought you’d stay up late. I will when I grow up. And sometimes I’m going to stay up all night!”
“I’m sure you will.” Just don't call me in the middle of the night and scare the wits out of me, Abby thought. Finnegan was up now too, apparently wakened by the phone. He padded upstairs to Abby's bedroom, checking things out. She gave him a pat on the head when he stuck his nose over the edge of the bed.
“Oh and, Abby, I sent for an ornithopter on the Internet tonight. It should be here in three days.”
“That's great. Now go back to bed.”
“Okay. See you in Sunday school tomorrow. I studied the lesson. I have some questions to ask.”
Abby would have to look over the lesson again before she and Mary drove into Little Flock the following morning. It wasn't easy keeping ahead of Bobby McDonald!
BY MONDAY AFTERNOON Abby hadn't heard anything from Gordon Siebert. She decided to leave the museum a little early and drop by the jewelry store to get his opinion on what she’d picked up on the Internet about the Blue Moon.
A customer was looking at rings when she arrived and Gordon appeared to be working alone in the store today. She wandered around admiring the displays. One glass cabinet particularly caught her attention. Everything in it was blue, the hues varying from stones of a clear, light blue to the opaque blue of turquoise. Scattered among the pieces of jewelry were raw chunks of a blue mineral and even peacock feathers with iridescent blue “eyes.”
Gordon came over after the customer made a purchase and departed. “After you were in, I got to thinking about all the blues the world of gems has to offer, so Judee and I put this display together. You might say it's in honor of your necklace, although I’m not telling anyone that, of course.” His smile was conspiratorial.
“Good. I want to keep the necklace confidential for a while yet.”
“There's even one blue diamond,” Gordon said, pointing to a ring with a tiny but vividly blue stone. “Nothing to compare with that blue diamond of yours, however.”
“It's not—” Abby automatically started to deny ownership, but she had the sudden feeling Gordon might be artfully fishing for information. So instead she broke off and commented on the display. “It's a beautiful display. Very creatively done.”
“Judee's good at that. She brought in the peacock feathers. The blue chunks of mineral I already had. They’re azurite, which is a hydrous copper carbonate.”
He went on to identify the varying blue tones of sapphires, the rich blue of a necklace made of beads of lapis lazuli, and the light blue of aquamarines.
“Aquamarine is the birthstone for those born in March, if you’re interested in that sort of thing.” Gordon laughed. “Birthstone jewelry is always popular and sells very well. I’ve always suspected the birthstone thing was invented by some enterprising salesman so he could sell more jewelry.”
Interesting, but not why Abby had come here. “You haven't found out anything about the necklace?”
“Not a thing. Which is puzzling. Someone should know something because that's a spectacular stone and I’m certain it's been reset in the last few years—though it may have been done far out of this area, of course. On the east coast, or even overseas.”
“Could it have been done in a . . .” Abby trailed off, not certain what word to use. She didn't want to imply that a criminal element could be involved here. Yet a criminal element might be exactly what they were dealing with. Hiding a three-million-dollar necklace in an old desk was not exactly on the up-and-up.
“The resetting could have been done by some individual outside the general commercial jewelry business,” Gordon suggested, the rather generic answer suggesting he knew what she was getting at. More bluntly he added, “If the gem were stolen that's exactly the kind of person who would be involved in resetting it.”
Abby pulled the computer printout out of her purse. “I found this on the Internet. I wanted to see what you thought.”
Gordon Siebert read the material about the Blue Moon with brow-furrowed intensity, occasionally tapping his mustache with a forefinger.
“I’m wondering if there's any chance the blue diamond I showed you could actually be the Blue Moon described here. The size is identical, and its ownership and location have apparently been unknown for some years.”
Gordon spread the papers on the glass display case and studied the black-and-white photograph of the gem in its old-fashioned setting. “Hard to say from this. But I definitely wouldn't rule out the possibility. The size certainly matches, and twenty-one carat blue diamonds are not exactly commonplace. What a find this would be if it actually is the Blue Moon!”
Was Abby hoping it was? She wasn't certain.
“What we need, of course, is a photo or diagram of the interior of the Blue Moon so I can compare it with your diamond. But the technology wasn't available to do such photography until recent years, so it may never have been done.”
“Do you have the equipment to do it now?”
“No, unfortunately I don’t. I let it go when I sold the business over in Tacoma. But an accurate diagram done by hand can be just as helpful and is in some ways pref
erable because you can get more of a three-dimensional effect. It's possible such a diagram was done sometime, but I don't know how we’d ever locate it.”
He read further then and laughed. “And a curse! How exciting. I hope you’re being careful of safes falling out of windows, hostile bird life, greedy jewel thieves, etcetera?”
“I’m not concerned.” Although his mention of greedy jewel thieves echoed Hugo and Henry's warnings about being careful. “I don't believe in superstitious curses.”
“I don't either,” Gordon agreed. “But I do hope you’ve put the necklace somewhere secure for safekeeping?”
“Sergeant Cobb rented a safe deposit box at the bank. I’m sure it's safe there.”
Gordon jumped on that, his gaze lifting with interest. “Oh, so the authorities are definitely involved, then?” He hesitated and then with a sideways tilt of his head, added, “Would it be too, ah, indiscreet of me to inquire if the necklace is the item found in your desk at the museum?”
“What? “ Abby gasped, astonished. “Where did you hear something was found in the desk?”
“Judee said something about it, although I didn't ask where she’d heard it. The necklace wasn't mentioned, but with what I knew about the necklace, I just put two and two together. And I’m keeping my conclusions totally confidential,” he assured her.
Abby knew where the information must have come from. She hadn't actually told Donna Morgan she’d found something in the desk, but basic honesty had kept her from fabricating a denial to Donna's speculations. Now, uncomfortably clutching her purse, she said, “Thank you. I appreciate that. We don't want finding the real owner complicated by a flood of phony claims.”
“I can understand that. May I keep this?” he asked, lifting the computer printout off the glass counter. “It's fascinating information and may be helpful in my inquiries. Again, keeping everything discreet and confidential.”
Abby managed a smile. “You keep all this confidential, and I’ll keep your comment about the economic factor in birthstones confidential.”
He also smiled. “It's a deal.”
CHAPTER NINE
THAT EVENING WHILE MARY was at her knitting group, Abby tried to call the Durangers, the current owners of the house in which Liberty Washington and her husband had once lived. She let the phone ring a dozen times, but neither a live person nor an answering machine picked up, which wasn't surprising, of course. When the weather turned bad, the population of Sparrow Island tended to drop as people scurried back to the mainland for the winter, even though statistics showed the San Juan Islands had considerably less total precipitation per year than Seattle. Many people did return for an occasional weekend, but it was possible the Durangers wouldn't be back until spring.
By the following morning, the wind had dropped to an occasional gust, but dark clouds now hung low over the island. They obscured not only the island's highest point, Mt. Ortiz, but Arrowhead Hill as well. In some places even the treetops disappeared into the misty fog as Abby drove through Green Harbor. She turned up the heater in her car. Rain had begun by the time she parked outside the museum, but Abby never found rain depressing, as some people said they did. Everything was so wonderfully green and fresh. Hugo's car wasn't in the parking lot yet, but he passed her open office door a few minutes later.
“Hugo, when you have a free minute, would you let me know?” she called. “I need to talk to you about some details on the new exhibit.” Although she was uncertain how to do it, she hoped she could work in an assurance that he needn't feel uncomfortable around her about a romantic involvement with Dr. Randolph.
Unexpectedly Hugo turned into her office right then. “No time like the present,” he said.
Abby hastily dug out her diagrams and plans. This exhibit was to be glass enclosed and not a hands-on type of exhibit. She showed him the layout she had in mind and also mentioned that Bobby McDonald might be supplying a model of an ornithopter.
“It's probably not going to be a totally professional job, even though Bobby is extremely competent for his age,” she said. “But I think that's okay, because some of the early attempts at flying with wing movements like a bird's were definitely on the primitive side.”
“Sounds good to me. I think something about hang gliding or parasailing should be included, since they also use the lifting power of air to stay afloat.”
“Good idea.” She jotted down a note.
“I’m sorry I’m not as involved with this project as I should be. I’ve been distracted by a personal matter. In fact, I’ll probably be spending another day over in Seattle.”
Another getaway day with Dana Randolph? Abby tried to think of some tactful way to let Hugo know that he didn't have to hide the romance from her. She didn't want to come off sounding nosy about the relationship, but she did want him to know she cared and wanted the two of them to be happy.
“Hugo, I, uh, realize that something's been troubling you lately. And I just want you to know that I care and I’m concerned, and you can count on me to help anyway I can.”
Abby couldn't think how she could possibly help in his romance with Dr. Randolph, unless it was to make certain other people knew she didn't disapprove. And to keep to herself those unattractive moments of disappointment and jealousy she’d experienced.
“Thank you, Abby. I appreciate that. It's been a difficult time and your caring means a great deal to me.” He absentmindedly picked up a paper clip on her desk and twisted it into a new shape. “I’ve taken it to the Lord, of course.”
“That's good. I have too.”
“You have?” He looked surprised. “But how did you know? Dr. Randolph surely didn't tell you. That would be a violation of professional ethics, and Dr. Randolph would never—”
He sounded upset, then broke off as he realized Abby was looking at him with a bewildered expression.
“Dr. Randolph didn't tell me anything, but there is talk around town.”
“Talk around town?” Hugo repeated. “Abby, what are we talking about here?”
“You and Dr. Randolph,” she said.
Hugo gave a small groan and then laughed and shook his head. “Don't tell me you’ve heard that rumor that's going around.” He peered at her across the desk, his eyebrows lifted into an inquiring line. “Yes, you have heard it, haven't you?”
“Rumor?” she repeated warily.
“The ridiculous and totally unfounded rumor that Dr. Randolph and I are engaged in some torrid romance.”
“You’re not?”
“Of course not!”
“But you and Dr. Randolph had dinner together at Winifred’s, didn't you?”
“Oh well, yes, that's true.” Hugo nodded. “But it had nothing to do with romance. Mitch called while I was waiting to see Dr. Randolph—”
“Mitch?” Abby interrupted. She was feeling as if she needed a program to keep all the players straight here.
“Mitch Ziegler, the man Dr. Randolph's been seeing for some time. He's in insurance, I think. Over on Lopez. I’ve never met him.” Hugo waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway, they had reservations at Winifred’s, but some emergency came up at Mitch's office and he couldn't make it. He called while I was in her office. Dr. Randolph said they’d already asked the chef to make a special scallop and crab dish they both like, and it was a shame to let that go to waste. So then, quite impulsively, I think, she asked if I’d like to go with her. Which I did. That's where apparently half the town saw us and jumped to the foolish conclusion that we are seeing each other,” he added with a palms-up lift of his hands.
“But I saw you together too. Walking down the street together, looking very engrossed in each other,” Abby blurted before she could stop herself.
He tapped the paper clip on the desk, his unfocused gaze squinting at the window and drizzling rain. “I don't remember . . . Oh yes, I do. It was that day it rained so hard, wasn't it?”
“Yes, it was raining. You were, um, sharing an umbrella, in fact.”
&nbs
p; “I don't remember seeing you.”
“I was across the street, just coming out of Siebert's Jewelry.” Hiding behind my own umbrella so you wouldn't see me.
“I had an appointment at the medical clinic for X-rays late that afternoon and then I ran into Dr. Randolph as we were both leaving the building. She had forgotten her umbrella at home. We both had errands to run, so I shared mine with her and we walked downtown together. And what we were talking about was a new surgical technique she’d read about, which I have to admit I did find engrossing.”
“Surgical technique?” Abby repeated, feeling she’d somehow lost the focus of this conversation. “X-rays?”
“I have prostate cancer,” he said bluntly.
Abby's hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. “Oh no …”
“Dr. Randolph was reasonably certain I have it, but she wanted me to consult a specialist in Seattle. That's why I was there overnight, to have a biopsy.”
“Oh.” Abby repeated. She felt dazed and a little ill herself because of the guilt that suddenly deluged her. Cancer. A trip to Seattle to see a specialist for a biopsy. And I’d foolishly thought—
Hugo leaned forward in the chair. “Surely you didn't really think I was involved in some big romance with Dr. Randolph, did you?” He sounded as if he couldn't decide whether to be astonished or amused.
“I’m sorry, Hugo. It didn't seem an unreasonable possibility.”
For a moment she thought he might be angry that she had so misinterpreted the situation, but instead he laughed with his usual good humor. Then his expression turned serious as he studied her thoughtfully. “And you were willing to do whatever you could to help?”
“Of course. You deserve happiness and a full life. If you could find it with Dr. Randolph, I wanted to be supportive.”
“You’re a good woman, Abby.” He nodded as if affirming something he’d always known but perhaps hadn't fully appreciated. “And a generous one too.”
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