The Blue Moon

by Lorena McCourtney

  “Did you report the necklace as missing at that time?”

  “No. I was unhappy about losing it, of course, because it had been my grandmother’s. But since I thought it was just old costume jewelry, there didn't seem to be any point in reporting it.” Now she smoothed a finger across an eyebrow. “I didn't realize until yesterday how valuable it is.”

  “I wonder why your former husband would bother taking it, if you didn't know at that time it was valuable?”

  She leaned forward. “One of two reasons, I think. Either he took it just to hurt me because it was my grandmother's and I valued it for that reason, or maybe he already knew it was really very valuable. He was sneaky. For all I know, he could have secretly had it appraised.”

  Abby mentally reviewed the story. It had a certain ring of plausibility, and the woman's eyes flashed angrily as she spoke of her ex-husband's motivation. Yet the woman's nervous gestures suggested she wasn't at ease telling the story.

  “I understand you found the necklace here in the museum?” The woman glanced around warily and Abby realized the rumors she’d heard must not have included information about the desk as the hiding place.

  “Would you have any idea how it got here?” Abby asked.

  The woman hesitated and Abby had the impression this might be a weak point in her story. “Well, uh, no, I guess not.”

  “I see. And could you describe the necklace for me?”

  “Of course.” Without hesitation the woman launched into a detailed description of the necklace. A description that exactly matched the appearance of the necklace in that old black-and-white photo Abby had downloaded off the Internet, not the current modern setting. If photocopies had been made at Siebert's jewelry, Abby thought, they were apparently flying from island to island as if self-propelled.

  “How long has it been since you saw the necklace?” Abby inquired, careful to give no hint that her suspicions were mounting.

  The woman glanced at her husband. Abby wondered how long they’d been married. “A couple of years, I guess.”

  It was possible that the blue diamond had been reset and hidden in Abby's desk during that time, although she definitely had her doubts. “You’ll have to talk to Sergeant—”

  The husband, who had been silent until now, suddenly broke in. “We’re willing to pay a substantial reward for the return of the necklace, of course.”

  The woman eyed Abby's tailored blue jacket and sensible shoes. Abby saw her shrewd gaze mentally price-tagging them as if evaluating how much of a “reward” it would take. “We’d be very fair,” she said.

  “I see. Well, you’ll have to discuss that and all other details with Sergeant Cobb at the county sheriff's department. You can find him at the local substation on Municipal Street in Green Harbor. The sheriff's department is handling all claims for the necklace.”

  “All claims?” The woman's eyes flashed in alarm. She and the beefy husband exchanged glances. “But it's my necklace. No one else has a right to claim it. I’m entitled to it.”

  “Sergeant Cobb will give you every opportunity to prove that, I’m sure.”

  The tall man leaned forward, palms on top of Abby's desk. “It's cursed, you know,” he warned. “If anyone has the necklace in their possession and isn't entitled to it, something very bad is going to happen to that person.”

  It wasn't exactly a threat, but neither was it a have-a-niceday kind of statement.

  Abby stood up. She was considerably shorter than both the Seavers, but she herded them toward the door with authority. “Thank you for your interest,” she said in as polite a tone as she could muster.

  “We’re on our way to the sheriff's department now,” the husband said. As if this were a last-chance warning, he added, “You’ll never see a cent of reward money if we have to do that.”

  “Fine,” Abby said. “Tell Sergeant Cobb I sent you. He’ll also be able to tell you if making a false claim is a form of attempted theft, a misdemeanor or a felony.”

  She didn't know that making a false claim was a crime, of course, but neither did she know that it wasn’t. And she was almost certain now that this was a false claim. Especially when the couple exchanged worried glances as they went out her office door.

  Perhaps she should start writing these stories down, Abby mused as she looked out the window and watched the couple cross the parking lot to a small motor home. She could title the collection of stories Granny and the Three-Million-Dollar Necklace, since a grandmother seemed to play a prominent part in these stories. Or, considering the quality of tales she was getting so far, perhaps it should be Granny and the Three-Million-Dollar Boondoggle.

  WHEN THE PHONE RANG AGAIN a few hours later, Abby almost hated to answer it. Another phony claimant with a grandma story? But this was a boat owner down at the marina saying he’d just seen a seagull entangled in some fishing line near the dock and someone had told him to call her.

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Abby said instantly. “Where can I find the bird?”

  “It's near the south end of the dock. It's pretty well tangled up, but I didn't have any luck trying to catch it myself.”

  She ran over to her lab in the conservatory building and exchanged her good clothes for a sweatshirt and an old pair of cargo type pants with pockets for everything. She didn't have her usual birding vest here, and she hastily stuck a pocket knife, small scissors and basic medications in the pockets so she’d have them with her whenever she managed to catch the seagull. She realized she probably looked more like a beach bum than an ornithologist as she grabbed a net and headed for her car. But she didn't mind if she could save a bird's life.

  Considerably fewer boats were tied up at the long dock at this time of year than during the busy tourist season, but it was by no means deserted. Tie ropes creaked, and small waves, gentle in this protected area, lapped against the moored boats. Rigging on the tall mast of a sailboat clattered and clanked. She ran to the south end of the dock and stood listening, trying to catch sounds of distress above the usual squawks and shrieks of circling gulls. She found the gull a few minutes later sloshing helplessly against the dock.

  It took a few tries, but she finally scooped the bird up in the net. She then knelt right there on the dock to work on it. The lines had tangled the bird's feet together, incapacitated a wing and even wound around the bird's neck.

  She’d thought the bird was probably too weak to protest her rescue work, but it set up a noisy squawk and flailed its free wing. She ignored the bird's protestations and the drenching with seawater from the flapping wing and quickly used the small scissors to cut through the strong nylon fishing lines.

  She was relieved as she removed the fishing lines to find the bird didn't appear badly injured. She held the bird gently between her knees and dabbed antibiotic ointment on cuts on the leathery yellow legs and under the bird's wing. She debated taking the bird back to the lab for care but decided to give it a chance on its own. Care in a human facility, even good, conscientious care, tended to be traumatic for any wild creature. But if it couldn't fly, she’d definitely take it in.

  Carefully she released the bird on the dock and stepped back. It took a few unsteady steps, gave her an indignant look as if somehow this were all her fault, and then lifted its wings in wobbly but determined flight. Abby smiled. She didn't mind the lack of gratitude. She was just glad of the successful outcome.

  Abby was now surprised to realize she’d had an audience of half a dozen people watching her work. They applauded as the bird flew and landed on one of the tall wooden pilings supporting the dock. She carefully gathered the scraps of fishing line and took them to a trash can on the dock for disposal.

  She felt cheerful as she drove back to the conservatory to change clothes, gratified by the success of the rescue venture. Helping one of God's creatures in distress always lifted her spirits.

  The upbeat feeling lasted until some fifteen minutes later when Ida led two people into her office.

 
; CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JUDEE HAS SOMETHING TO tell you,” Gordon Siebert said. He planted his feet in a spread stance and crossed his hands behind him with an almost military formality.

  Abby hadn't given Judee more than a passing glance at the jewelry store, just enough to notice that she was a slender blonde and rather attractive. Definitely an energetic glass polisher. Now she also noted that the woman was thirtyish, perhaps a bit too slender, as if she may have lost weight recently. She was attractively dressed in brown slacks and a gold cable-knit sweater, her hair in a neat, short style, but a hint of dark shadows lay beneath her eyes. The woman's gaze targeted the floor, her eyes not meeting Abby’s.

  “Yes, Judee?” Abby finally said encouragingly. The woman looked thoroughly miserable, as if she’d like to crawl under the desk and hide.

  “I . . . I want to apologize,” Judee said. She squared her shoulders, as if trying to give herself courage. “I did something I shouldn't have and I’m very sorry.”

  Abby glanced at Gordon Siebert. The harsh line of his mouth looked as if it had been carved from a rocky cliff on Mount Ortiz. “Something concerning the necklace?”

  Judee nodded. “I didn't say anything to anyone about it that first time you came in. I didn't even get a good look at it. But I could tell Mr. Siebert was really impressed, and I heard him telling you it was worth three million dollars and should be in a safe deposit box. And I heard the name Claudia mentioned.”

  No comment from Gordon Siebert. He obviously intended to let Judee struggle through this on her own.

  “Then I heard from somewhere else that you’d found something in an old desk here at the museum. This one, I guess.”

  Judee inspected Abby's desk with a small spark of interest, as if wondering where in it the necklace had been found. “It …it's a really pretty desk.”

  “Yes, this was where I found the necklace,” Abby said.

  “Anyway, I was at a meeting with some people—”

  “What kind of meeting?” Abby cut in. Probably sounding more suspicious than she intended, she realized a moment later.

  “It's a singles group. My husband divorced me a few months ago, when we were living over in Kent. I …I was having a hard time and some friends invited me to come stay over here until I kind of got my life back together. So I changed the spelling of my name to J-u-d-e-e so it wouldn't be so ordinary, and moved here. Then Mr. Siebert gave me a job.”

  Abby didn't need to ask about the divorce. The weight loss suggested that Judee had been devastated by it. And if going to Judee from what had probably been Judy to begin with helped strengthen her confidence, Abby saw no harm in it.

  “Just get to the point,” Gordon snapped.

  Judee avoided looking at him. Her gaze jerked hopefully to Abby a couple of times, but mostly she simply looked at the floor.

  “Anyway, I’ve been going to this singles group. Sometimes it's an actual meeting but mostly it's just a few people getting together at the Springhouse Café to sit around and drink coffee and talk. A few people are there almost every evening. But I never seemed to fit in. I’m always thinking, if my husband dumped me, why would anyone else want me? One guy acted kind of interested, but he never asked me out.”

  Gordon rolled his eyes. “Please just tell Dr. Stanton what you did.”

  Which Judee had been sidestepping as she tried to work up her courage, probably because she was so ashamed of what she’d done, Abby suspected. No wonder Judee had dark shadows under her eyes. “Would you like a glass of water, Judee?” she asked encouragingly.

  “No, but thank you.” Judee made an appreciative attempt at a small smile. “Anyway, they were all talking one night about this mysterious something being found in a desk here at the museum and your name was mentioned. And all of a sudden I realized I knew what that something was. So I …I told them that it was an incredibly beautiful blue diamond necklace, worth at least three million dollars. For the first time they acted as if they actually knew I was alive. But a few minutes later they were mostly scoffing, as if they thought I was just making it all up trying to impress them. So the next day I photocopied those papers you’d brought in about the Blue Moon, and I passed them around to prove I wasn't fibbing or exaggerating or anything.” She swallowed and then admitted regretfully.

  “Although I guess I was trying to impress them.”

  “How many copies did you make?”

  “I don't know. Several. Everyone wanted one.”

  Judee's head hung at a hopeless angle and her eyes now focused somewhere in the middle of Abby's desk. “I …I’m really sorry. I didn't mean any harm doing what I did, but it was the wrong thing to do anyway.”

  “You’ve damaged the reputation of the store,” Gordon said stiffly. “Possibly irreparably.”

  That sounded a bit melodramatic to Abby. She doubted people were going to be standing outside the store picketing it because of this. “I don't think—”

  “Our transactions are always most discreet and confidential,” Gordon cut in.

  “I’m sorry,” Judee repeated miserably.

  Abby couldn't help also feeling sorry for the young woman. No, she shouldn't have done what she did in violating confidentiality, spreading rumors and backing them up with deviously acquired computer printouts. The divorce had obviously left her feeling worthless and insecure, her self-esteem as tangled in loneliness and discouragement as that gull had been tangled in fishing line. That didn't justify trying to win herself the attention and popularity she was missing, but Abby could understand what had led her to do it.

  A thought occurred to Abby. “Did you also give your friends a copy of the photographs Gordon took of the actual necklace?”

  Judee momentarily brightened. “No, I didn’t.” Then her shoulders slumped, and she apparently opted for honesty rather than try to make Abby think she’d made at least one good decision. “I couldn't find them or I probably would have.”

  “I’d put them in a different place,” Gordon said. He lifted his arms and folded them across his chest.

  “But you did mention the name Claudia to these people?” Abby asked.

  Another unhappy nod.

  In spite of the unpleasant situation, Abby couldn't help asking, “And did anyone know someone by that name?”

  “No. But one guy said, ‘For three million bucks, I’ll be Claudia.’ Then he asked if anyone wanted to lend him a wig and some high heels and a dress. And we all laughed.”

  Abby smiled too, but Gordon remained stiff-faced.

  “Several people have already contacted me about the necklace,” Abby said. “So far the claims have been obviously phony and I’m relieved that no one seems to know what the necklace actually looks like. But all this information out there about the diamond and the so-called curse does complicate matters.”

  “I’m sorry,” Judee repeated once more.

  Gordon added his own formal apology. “I am also sorry about all this. Nothing like this has ever happened before either here or at my former business in Tacoma.” He gave the young woman with bowed head an unhappy look, then turned back to Abby. “Judee is no longer in my employment, of course, so I hope you will continue to consider Siebert's Jewelry for all your jewelry needs.”

  He didn't actually bow, but somehow a faint movement of his upper body gave the impression that he did. Irrelevantly, Abby wondered if he knew just how minimal her “jewelry needs” were.

  “I don't really think it's necessary that Judee lose her job,” Abby said carefully. She didn't want to condone what Judee had done, but neither did she want Gordon treating the error in judgment as if it were an earth-shattering disaster. “It isn't as if her indiscretion actually caused the necklace to be stolen or damaged. I’m sure she's learned a strong lesson about keeping store business confidential.”

  Gordon hesitated and for a moment Abby thought he was going to relent. But then he shook his head. “The matter is closed.” He wheeled and headed for the door.

  “Again,
I’m so sorry,” Judee said after he disappeared. “But I guess I’ve already said that a dozen times and it doesn't really make any difference, does it? As my mother used to say, ‘What's done is done.’”

  “It makes a difference to me, because I’m sure you mean it.”

  “Thanks.” Judee started out the door, then hesitated a moment. Tentatively she asked, “Do you think there's anything to the, uh, curse?”

  “I think it's foolishness. Right up there with worrying about black cats crossing in front of you and avoiding cracks in the sidewalk so you won't break your mother's back.”

  Judee smiled bleakly and fingered the ridge of collarbone under her sweater. “I guess that's probably right. Superstitions are silly. Although…”

  “Although?”

  “I never touched the necklace. I was just around it, you know, and look what happened to me. Fired from my job. And now my friend Barb says it would be best if I leave the island. They don't think I should live with them anymore.”

  “Oh, Judee, I’m sorry—”

  “It's okay. I have only myself to blame, not some dumb curse. Anyway, I’m leaving the island later today. Thanks for not jumping all over me. I appreciate your kindness.”

  “I think it does more good to pray for people, not jump on them.”

  Judee gave her a wan smile. “Thanks.”

  And Abby did offer a prayer as the young woman stumbled toward the door. Ida came in a minute later, curiosity overriding her earlier short-lived annoyance with Abby.

  “What was that all about?”

  Abby gave her a condensed version of what had just taken place in her office. With Ida being one of the few people who had actually seen the necklace, Abby ended with a warning. “So I think it's especially important now that not a word gets out about what the necklace actually looks like.”