A Ton of Gold (Crystal Moore Suspense Book 1)

by James R. Callan

  #

  Crystal had seriously considered not showing up for Krupe’s talk, but at 3:00, she entered the auditorium where the Learned Lecture Series was being held and slid into a seat near the back. She picked out Mark sitting on the second row. Fortunately, there were no empty seats near him, giving her an excuse for not sitting up front with him.

  Students and faculty filled almost every seat in the lecture hall, all eagerly awaiting the speaker. But Krupe was not in evidence. Of course not, thought Crystal. He likes to keep you waiting. More than once, I’ve seen him be ready to walk to the podium or into a room, but delay so people would have to wait for him. At first, she believed he just wanted to be “fashionably late.” Later she realized it was a show of power.

  Unconsciously Crystal slouched down in her seat as Lester Krupe and an attractive brunette walked onto the stage. The woman waited patiently until the crowd noise subsided and then gave a brief, but impressive, introduction to the afternoon’s speaker.

  With an air of importance, Dr. Lester Krupe stepped to the podium. Even then, he stood there and surveyed the crowd for nearly a minute before he spoke. Veins of silver highlighted his rich, black hair and his six-foot frame appeared as lean as ever. Wide-set, striking green eyes scanned the eager faces in front of him, occasionally stopping for a moment to scrutinize someone. The air of complete confidence that Crystal, at first, had found so attractive in her dissertation advisor, now came across as arrogance. As always, his mouth formed a half smile.

  He turned to the right and then to the left, studying those in attendance. She had seen him do that before, presenting his profile to all his audience. He knew it was a striking profile, and everyone, particularly the young women, should get the opportunity to see it.

  He hasn’t changed a bit since I was one of his “most promising graduate students.” She could still hear him saying that to the Dean of the Graduate School, not two months before he basically destroyed her hopes for a Ph.D. If I were that promising, why did he tell me I wasn’t graduate school material?

  Now, he was thanking UT-Dallas for honoring him by inviting him to speak to such an alert and intelligent group.

  The lights dimmed slightly as Dr. Krupe clicked up his first slide. Crystal’s thoughts had over-shadowed his opening statement, but the slide instantly grabbed her full attention. The topic of his lecture was the very same topic of her research while she was at Stanford, the topic he had trashed when he dismissed her and told her she had no talent for graduate studies.

  Crystal sat up in her seat and leaned forward, her every fiber drawn to the screen and the lecturer. What approach would he take? Would he go in the general direction she had been following, or would he branch off to a totally different area? Would he pick up where she had left off and move forward?

  Ten minutes passed, then twenty minutes. Krupe projected slide after slide after slide. Crystal stared, transfixed, frozen, not moving a muscle, not blinking an eye.

  Dr. Lester Krupe was presenting exactly what she had done. Not parallel, not close, not similar. Precisely.

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing and seeing. At one point, she gulped for air, as she had been unconsciously holding her breath. Her work, which he deemed so worthless, so beneath his consideration, so unworthy of dissertation material, so below Stanford’s standards, now provided the subject of his address at the University of Texas Learned Lecture Series. Not simply the subject, but the essence, the total content.

  Considerable time had passed since she was at Stanford. But she had lived and breathed this subject matter. It had consumed her mind twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. She had dreamed about it. She had thought about it in the shower and during meals. It had been her passion. It had been her life. There was no mistake, no fuzzy memory. This was her work.

  When he finished, the audience applauded. Crystal stumbled out the door, the tears seeping out of her eyes blurring her vision. And as the tears began to flow in earnest, she whispered to no one, “They’re applauding Dr. Krupe … for my work.”

  Chapter 56

  CRYSTAL arrived at her apartment dry-eyed but in a blue funk. Brandi ordered a pizza and by the time the deliveryman rang the doorbell, she had pried out of Crystal the reason for her dismal mood.

  “Old Dr. Poop strikes again,” said Brandi, mouth half full of pepperoni and cheese.

  “I’m so angry I could spit. But there’s nothing I can do.”

  “What do you mean, there’s nothing you can do?”

  “He’s the great authority, the national figure. What am I? Nothing.” Crystal took another bite of pizza.

  “Dammit, Crystal, you’re not nothing. And except when Dr. Crap gets in the picture, you know how smart you are. Whenever that bastard pokes his nose into your life, you crumble.” She fixed her eyes on Crystal and waited until Crystal met her gaze. “He’s a lecher and a thief.”

  “I agree. I’m really mad.”

  Suddenly, Brandi jumped up and came around to Crystal. “Lie down on the floor.” Crystal wrinkled her brow, cocked her head to one side and looked quizzically at her roommate. “Now. Do it, dammit. Just lie down on the floor.” She pulled Crystal’s arm.

  Crystal shook her head in dismay, but laid down on the floor.

  Brandi stood over her. “You’re really smart and I’m really dumb. But you’re a doormat and I’m wiping my feet on you.” She put a foot on Crystal’s stomach and began moving it back and forth.

  “Brandi!”

  “If you don’t like being a doormat, jump up and knock me against the wall. Right now. Do it!” Brandi commanded. “Otherwise, I’ll just keep walking all over you.”

  Crystal got up and gave Brandi a little push.

  “Shove. Hard. Come on. Do it!”

  Crystal gave her roommate a mild shove.

  “That’s mad.” Brandi shrugged. “At least a little. You’ve been playing the part of a doormat with Mr. Crap. It’s time you played the angry part. The man’s a dirt bag dumped on society. You need to put him in his place.”

  Crystal looked doubtful.

  Brandi put her face about six inches from Crystal’s nose. “Do you even care that he drummed you out of graduate school unjustly? Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you care that he stole your ideas and passed them off as his own?”

  “Yes, I do.” Her voice strengthened.

  “Are you the same person who pushed a loaded gun into Joe’s mouth and threatened to pull the trigger?”

  “I’m the one.”

  “Now that was mad. You impressed even me with that. You can play mad.” Crystal started to object, but Brandi held up her hand. “I know. I know. Joe was a dimwit and Kreep is smart. Is that it?” Brandi returned to the table and grabbed another piece of pizza.

  Crystal picked up her beer and took a sip. “I guess.”

  “Guess, schmess. This Krook has got you buffaloed. You think he’s so smart he must be right. Did he cop your stuff and pass it off as his own?”

  Crystal nodded.

  “Is that smart? Right here in your hometown, where a smart bozo might suspect that you, being interested in retrieval stuff, might come and hear him. Sounds like what my mother would call a blinking idiot.”

  “No. It’s supreme confidence.”

  Brandi snorted. “I’d call it supreme arrogance. He probably expected you to be there. He just threw it in your face, knowing you wouldn’t challenge him. What an asshole.”

  Crystal toyed with a slice of pizza, but still hadn’t taken a bite.

  “So, what’s it going to be tomorrow when old Stupe comes to IRS? Doormat? Or angry, avenging, wild woman?”

  “Not a doormat,” Crystal said. She took a bite of the pizza.

  “At least we got you on the right side of the tracks——on your feet.”

  Unbidden, a picture of Phil taking credit for her idea popped into her mind. He had stolen her idea. Am I being too harsh, she wondered? Are people going to t
hink I cry “wolf” all the time? Am I going to have any credibility at all? Deep lines creased her forehead. But I’m not making these up. These are real cases. They happened.

  She let out a long breath. Maybe I bring these things on myself? She dismissed that offhand. How could I bring that on myself? But after a moment’s thought, she answered her own question. By being a doormat.

  #

  They were cleaning up when Crystal said, “How am I going to be this avenging wild woman? That’s a role I’ve never played.”

  “Ha. Ask Joe. I’ll bet he can tell you.” She laughed. “I still can’t believe you shoved a gun in his mouth. That takes moxie. That’s an angry, avenging, wild woman.”

  “Well, I can’t very well stick a gun in Dr. Krupe’s mouth.”

  “Don’t write that off yet,” said Brandi with a grin. “But, here’s Brandi’s outline. Three steps. First, stand up. No more doormat, no matter what old Drup says.”

  “Got it. On my feet.” Crystal was feeling better already. “Of course, you realize that staying on my feet is what caused him to dump me in the first place.”

  They both laughed.

  “Remember, no matter what Kreep tells you, he thinks your work is really good. What’s the old saying? Plagiarism is the sincerest form of flattery.”

  “Imitation.”

  “Close enough.” Brandi held up two fingers. “Number next is, get some proof. Never hurts to have a smoking gun or an untouched photograph.”

  “That’s tougher.”

  “You’re tough enough. Three. Backup.”

  “Where am I—.”

  “Me. I’m coming with you tomorrow.” For an instant, Brandi looked worried. “Dr. Mark won’t mind, will he?”

  “No. He likes you. Of course, Rooney’s people will be there. And Mark’s a little nervous about them.”

  “Rooney? That the vulture capitalists?”

  “I love it! I have to remember to tell Mark that one. Vulture Capitalists.” Crystal’s mood was definitely on the upswing. Then, she sobered a bit. “But where am I going to get the smoking gun or photo?”

  Brandi shrugged. “That’s your problem. But the one semester I actually worked in high school, I took lots of notes. Surely, you’ve got notes. You didn’t throw everything out, did you?”

  “No. But I don’t know if that will help. He’ll just say I copied it from him.”

  “Doormat or avenging beast?”

  Crystal nodded several times. “Ask Joe.”

  Chapter 57

  WHEN Crystal and Brandi stepped into the IRS conference room the next morning, conversation stopped. Crystal wore a conservative navy dress, one-inch heels, a single gold strand around her neck and minimal make-up. A brushed gold disk adorned each ear.

  Brandi had chosen a different look. Her auburn hair looked as if there were gold threads woven throughout. Her aqua eyes were so bright they appeared to be backlit. Thick lashes might have been made of velvet and a subtle violet eye shadow matched the color of her dress. A hint of blush and perfectly outlined lips and lip-gloss made it difficult for the men to keep their eyes off her.

  Her dress, unlike her style in jeans, was soft and loose. The silk draped itself seductively over her shapely body, stopping just at the knees. Matching three-inch heels accentuated near-perfect legs.

  Mark came over to greet them. “Crystal, hello. And Brandi. I didn’t know you were stopping by this morning. Where are you off to looking so gorgeous?”

  “Good morning, Mark. Actually, I wanted to hear today’s presentations. I understand they’re really good. You don’t mind, do you?”

  The smile on Mark’s face vanished and several moments passed before he answered. “Well, you probably wouldn’t enjoy them. And I’m not sure Mr. Rooney and his associates would feel ... well, it is a confidential meeting. You know any other time I’d love to have—.”

  “Nonsense.” Dr. Lester Krupe laid a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “We’d love to have this lovely lady stay.” By now, Krupe had moved around Mark and was ogling Brandi.

  “Ah, she’s not a member of the IRS staff, Lester.”

  “Then she can stay as my guest.” He put a hand on Brandi’s shoulder. “Come on over here and let me find you a good seat.” He led her over to a chair next to his.

  Mark looked at Crystal, disapproval written all over his face.

  Crystal turned up her mouth and shrugged. “She wanted to come. Insisted. She’s my backup.”

  Just as Mark started to question that statement, William Rooney called to him. Mark shook his head and went to see the head of the visiting delegation.

  Crystal got a cup of coffee and moved over close enough to hear what Brandi and Krupe were saying.

  “Where did you get your Ph.D., Brandi?”

  “Oh, I didn’t actually finish it. So, don’t bother to call me Dr. Brewer, Dr. Creep.”

  “Ah, it’s Dr. Krupe.” He reached over and took her hand. “I think they’re going to start the talks in just a minute. After this is over, why don’t you show me some quaint Dallas bar and we can discuss your interest in I.R. over cocktails.” He patted her hand and his eyes remained focused on her low-cut dress.

  Crystal thought perhaps she should step in, then quickly decided Brandi could take care of herself, even with Dr. Krupe.

  “I don’t know, Dr. Crap.” He dropped her hand and a frown descended over his face. His focus moved to her eyes. After a moment, she fluttered her velvet eyelashes and said, “Selecting the right bar should be the man’s job.”

  His expression turned to confusion, followed by a big grin. “Yes. Great idea. Actually, there’s a very nice one in my hotel. And it’s Krupe. Dr. Lester Krupe.” He refocused on her breasts.

  Crystal stood only a few feet away, half-turned so that she could see them out of the corner of her eye, yet not appear to be spying on them. But at this point, she had to turn completely away and bite her lip to keep from laughing aloud. Dr. Krupe had met his match.

  “You have such beautiful hair, Lecher. Is it a toupee? You can touch mine if I can touch yours. Deal?”

  Again, confusion set in on Krupe. “Lester. It’s Lester Krupe. It rhymes with soup.”

  “Like poop?”

  Once more, Krupe dropped her hand and stared at her eyes. At that moment, Mark called for everyone’s attention. The presentations were about to start.

  Brandi leaned over to Krupe, placed her hand on his and whispered. “See you later, Lecher.”

  Krupe opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.

  Brandi sashayed over to a chair near the back and slipped into it. Bobby Don, who was there to make certain the projector and computer worked smoothly, occupied the chair beside Brandi and was so captivated by her that he did not hear Mark the first time he asked Bobby Don to close the door.

  Mark gave the introduction, much as it has been rehearsed the day before. There were no questions from the guests.

  Next, Phil made his presentation. Crystal had noted the improvement from Friday to Monday. And though there still had been no suggestions for changes, Phil had once again refined and polished it. When he finished, he fielded several questions from the three Rooney people.

  Crystal envied his easy, confident manner, and she was happy to note that Dr. Krupe did not say a word.

  Crystal approached the lectern feeling confident. Phil’s talk had gone very well and the comments on it were positive. Her presentation would certainly be more impressive. She greeted the audience and started her opening statement, describing the basics of the Identification from Partial Plate Information, or IPPI, project.

  Immediately Dr. Krupe interrupted her. “Crissie. Are you actually working on this project?” His tone was one of disbelief. “Or are you just making the presentation?”

  She looked over toward Krupe and there stood Al, his gun aimed directly at her head. She saw the muzzle flash, heard the roar, felt the shock wave pass her ear. He was yelling at her. He wanted an answer.

/>   She blinked and refocused her eyes, and in front of her sat Dr. Krupe asking for an answer. Her mind cleared. She thought of Joe and Al and she realized Dr. Krupe could only hurt her if she allowed it.

  Her eyes strayed and she saw Brandi, remembered her saying: plagiarism was the sincerest form of flattery. My work is good enough for the ‘imminent authority’ to claim it as his own. He doesn’t believe I can lead such a project? He’s wrong. I can lead projects and I can stand up to him.

  “Les. You don’t mind me calling you Les, do you?”

  The consultant looked indignant. “Actually, I do. Call me Dr. Krupe.”

  “Fine. Call me Crystal. Or Ms. Moore.” In the back, she saw Mark wince. “But to answer your question, Dr. Krupe, I conceived the idea, and have been the project leader on it from day one.”

  Crystal stared at her nemesis, but he made no further comment. After a moment, she proceeded to explain the basic operations of the IPPI project. Next, she clicked up a slide that said, “The Case of the Puce Truck.” She explained the problem and the use of IPPI to trace the truck’s owner.

  She was just starting on the next section when Krupe interrupted her. “What about other information? Like a dented fender. How do you handle that type of data?” Before Crystal could answer, he continued, his manner and tone heavy with ridicule, “Or do you just have to throw away good information?”

  “As you can probably understand,” she said, “adding in information about a dented fender, or any other information of that type, will not change the search criteria, nor its results. That type of information is not available in the database for matching.”

  Krupe sneered. “So you throw away—.”

  “No, Dr. Krupe. We do not throw away anything. That information is attached to the entry. When the system identifies possible matches, it supplies the extra information so the police can use it as a further tool in finding the specific vehicle. We do not throw away any data, whether it is absolutely factual or questionable. But we do assign a degree of reliability to each piece.”