Garage Sale Diamonds (Garage Sale Mystery)

by Suzi Weinert

  “The challenge is to spill not a drop as you bring the drink to your lips. ‘Za zdorovye.’ To your health.” They lifted their glasses together and she demonstrated a perfect first sip.

  “To your health also.” Jennifer spilled a drop en route to her lips and, after swallowing, made a face as the powerful liquid stung her mouth. They savored and Jennifer said, “Why do you want to talk with me?”

  “As a child,” Veronika began, “I often knew about events happening elsewhere or anticipated happenings before they did. In Russia they call me ‘yasnovidyaschaya.’ You would say ‘clairvoyant.’ I don’t understand it. I don’t even like it, but we play the cards fate hands us.”

  “That we do.” Jennifer nodded, wondering if she could handle another sip of the fiery vodka.

  “Shall we study the menu? The wild boar is very good but a little heavy for lunch.” They discussed the merits of several choices and ordered.

  “When you saw my picture at the police station…” Jennifer coaxed again.

  “Why did I insist upon talking with you? Because I sense this growing danger includes you in a special way. Before we met, I didn’t know if you were part of the danger, but now I think you fell into it by accident.”

  “Danger?”

  “Yes, in my first vision of ten angry men, I realized they used certain foreign words that spell trouble. When the visions became more frequent and stronger, I vacillated between doing nothing and warning authorities. In past experience, telling someone about a vision could postpone or stop what will happen if different choices are made than those leading to what I saw. After 9/11’s horror, the chance to defuse another terrorist mission drove me to tell the police. Even if they thought me a lunatic, at least they know what I fear comes this way.”

  “And…”

  “And I believe terrorists very soon plan a terrible attack close by.”

  Jennifer stared disbelieving at her companion, but Veronika’s serious expression told her this was no joke to her. But did that make it true?

  “When?”

  “I don’t know yet. More information may come to me any time. But I think soon—maybe only days or a week. So,” she gave a wry laugh, “think about taking your family on a quick trip away from here to avoid the coming calamity.”

  Jennifer studied Veronika’s serious expression. No question she believed what she said. Jennifer took a small sip of vodka. An imminent terrorist threat seemed harder to swallow than this burning drink, yet this woman’s compelling sincerity coupled with her own bizarre diamond discovery…

  “You also could escape the danger with a journey, Veronika. Will you?”

  Veronika’s appealing laugh animated most of her wrinkled face. “My life nears the end one way or another. Which way matters, but I’d as soon face the finale in the home I love than traveling in a strange place.”

  A sudden idea popped into Jennifer’s mind. She groped in her pocket and found it. “Veronika, if you close your eyes, I’d like to put something in your hand. This may be another piece of information.”

  “That’s called psychometrics: receiving psychic information by touching an object.”

  “How would you know that?” Jennifer hid an edge of suspicion.

  “If psychic messages bombarded you, wouldn’t you try to understand the phenomenon? The study of parapsychology suggests some individuals interact with the environment in ways not yet explained by science. For some, psychometry is a tool for remote viewing, of seeking impressions about a distant or unseen target using paranormal means—ESP—or sensing with the mind.”

  “What are others you’ve studied?”

  “Psychic information through tasting is called clairgustance, through smelling is called clairalience, via hearing or listening is clairaudience, via feeling or touching is clairsentience or psychometry. Psychometry is not my way, but I will try it if you like.” She closed her eyes, extended a hand and Jennifer placed the item in her palm.

  What happened next baffled them both. When Veronika’s fingers closed on the diamond, she uttered a sharp cry and flung it away. The gem skittered across the table, hit the wooden floor and rolled ten feet away before coming to rest at a baseboard.

  “My God, what was it? Look, it seared my hand.” But as she opened her fingers, they saw no mark. “I could have sworn it left a blister.”

  “Maybe you felt it in your mind.”

  Veronika looked up. “You do understand. But what was that hot ingot you gave me?”

  Was Veronika’s display bonafide or was it skillful theatrics? Jennifer retrieved the stone and showed it to her.

  “A piece of glass? No, cut like a gem. A diamond? No, please don’t give it to me. I’ll look at it in your hand. Yes,” she nodded with certainly, “this is part of the problem, but how does it fit? Maybe it belongs to the terrorists, but why? What could they do with one diamond, even a big one like this? And if it’s theirs, how could you have it?”

  Jennifer downed another sip of vodka and decided to share the truth. “Sewn inside the body of a cloth doll bought at a garage sale we discovered 289 high-quality diamonds like this one. When a jeweler appraised them at about $3 million, I hustled them to a bank lockbox until we understood the situation. The next day, two women arrived asking to trade a nicer doll for the original. They seemed happy enough to take it, apparently knowing nothing about the treasure sewn inside. But we knew when whoever sent them to me got the empty doll, that person would know they were missing. Next, in the woods behind my house I found a folder, dropped in haste, with a paper showing my name, address and car license letters. Obviously, someone studied the back of my house as they surely must have studied the front. And they know my car. If your visions are right and the diamonds are related to them, doesn’t this confirm that the people knowing I have their gems are terrorists?”

  “And they need them back immediately because their destructive plan won’t wait long.”

  “But what if your vision and my diamonds are unrelated? How can we find out?”

  Veronika looked thoughtful. “Two possible ways,” she answered. “Either I receive a vision which links them or separates them or…” She fell silent.

  “Or?” Jennifer prompted.

  “Or the terrorists will take them from you very soon.”

  Jennifer’s eyes widened. “Can you invite these visions to come?”

  “No, it doesn’t work that way with me. I’m so sorry, Jennifer. I want to help you, but I can’t make them happen.”

  Their food arrived. They ate and drank vodka, which tasted better and better. Jennifer liked this pleasant older woman but wondered about her strange gift. Along with logic, Jennifer’s own problem-solving included intuition, hunches and gut-feelings, but not precognition or future sight.

  When they finished their meals, exclaiming over the high quality and rich flavors, Jennifer said, “Here’s my phone number, Veronika. Please call me the minute you receive more information. I have your number to tell you about developments on my end.”

  As they parted, Jennifer hugged Veronika goodbye. “By the way, have you plans for Thanksgiving afternoon?”

  “You mean three days from now?”

  “Yes. Would you like to join my big family and friends for a meal at 1:00?”

  Veronika beamed as she nodded. “Why yes, I would. Thank you very much, Jennifer.”

  74

  Monday, 2:07 PM

  Returning home, Jennifer looked around suspiciously as she drove up to her house and pulled into the gated driveway. As she parked and opened her door she heard something hit the garage floor but didn’t see it when she got out. She pressed the automatic garage door button. As it rumbled to a stop, she heard a splat and hiss. Taking a look, she realized the door had smashed open a full soda can, which probably fell from her car and rolled across the floor. She must remind Jason again to repair that door.

  “Did you bring us something?” Christine asked as soon as Jennifer walked inside.

  �
��Let’s see. Did they eat good lunches, Becca?” Her daughter nodded. “Then how about Drumstick ice cream cones from the freezer?” This suggestion met with great enthusiasm.

  “I’ll have one, too,” Becca said, “and let’s eat them outside in the gazebo.”

  An hour later, Becca announced she and the girls were ready to leave on their shopping-movie-and-dinner outing. “Be extra careful today, Honey,” Jennifer told her daughter before distracting Milo as they left so he wouldn’t feel left out. When the girls trooped out the front door to load into Becca’s car, Jennifer locked the door behind them and activated the alarm.

  “Let’s play cawds,” Milo suggested.

  “What card game would you like?”

  “Waw.”

  “Have you played ‘War’ before?” Jennifer asked. He nodded confidently. “Good.” She brought cards and they played at the sunroom table. She turned on the TV’s Easy Listening channel for soft background music. When they finished the first game, Jennifer shuffled and counted the cards into two equal stacks. When they both turned over tens, the war began. Jennifer noticed Milo stopped playing. He stared open-mouthed at something behind her. She turned to look.

  Two men wearing masks faced them, guns drawn. How was this possible with the alarm engaged? Jennifer cried out, jumped to her feet and pushed Milo behind her.

  “Where are the diamonds?” asked the first man.

  “The diamonds?” she stalled.

  “The diamonds inside the garage-sale doll. Those diamonds,” he sneered.

  “Those diamonds are not here.”

  One of the men walked over and grabbed her arm roughly. “We’re not here to play games. We will leave with the diamonds one way or another. Where are the diamonds?”

  “They’re at the bank.”

  The men exchanged looks. “What do you mean at the bank?”

  “I have a bank security box to store valuable things in their vault.”

  The first man dropped Jennifer’s arm and stepped away to talk to the second man before returning to stand in front of her. “We must know you tell the truth. We can hurt you to help your memory or we can hurt the boy. I think we will start with the boy.”

  “No,” Jennifer said quickly. “Leave him alone. I am telling the truth. This house has no safe place, so my husband told me to take them to the bank until we found the owner.”

  “We are the owners,” the first man spoke forcefully. “We want our property back now.” He lurched forward, slapping her so hard across the face she nearly lost her balance. She screamed and Milo began to cry. Treated well all her life, Jennifer couldn’t believe the pain from one blow. She fought tears while her mind raced. What should she do? What could she do? In a voice she hoped sounded steady, she said, “Look, this isn’t the way you want it, but this is the way it is. The diamonds are at the McLean Bank. If you want them, I must go there to get them.”

  “You say they are locked inside a box there?” She nodded. “You have the key?”

  “Yes, but I must sign my name to get into the vault to use the key. They compare my signature with the one already on record. You can’t get the diamonds without me.”

  The two men conferred again. The first man stepped into the foyer, spoke quietly on his cell phone and reported to the second man. He then opened the sunroom door to the patio. A few minutes later, three more masked men pushed into the house. As the five talked together, Jennifer tried to think of an impromptu weapon or escape route. With Milo to protect and one-against-five odds, she saw no options.

  The first man grabbed her arm. “Okay, get your key. We go to the bank. You ride in my car.”

  She retrieved the key from the study. “Come on, Milo, let’s go.”

  “No,” the first man indicated the three men. “The boy stays with them. You go with us.”

  As the two men hustled her outside, she called, “Don’t worry, Milo. I’ll be back soon.”

  The stricken look on his little face engraved itself indelibly in her mind.

  75

  Monday, 2:21 PM

  The men pushed Jennifer out the back door of her house and prodded her through the woods to their car. When they exited the parkland, they pulled off the masks that made them conspicuous in public. Throwing her roughly into the back seat, one man climbed in beside her while the other drove. An evil smile crossed the face of the man next to her. “You see my face and think now you can ID me for the police.” His cruel laugh told Jennifer that would never happen. As their car entered traffic in mid-Mclean, she tried to signal fellow motorists until the man beside her twisted her arm behind her back, immobilizing her. Now her slightest movement shot excruciating pain into her shoulder.

  “Tell us where to find this bank,” the driver demanded.

  They followed her directions, by-passing the front entrance to park instead in a lot next door. The man released her arm. “We only want our diamonds. We don’t want to hurt you or the nice little boy, but we will if you try any tricks. Go in, get the diamonds, come out, we take you home, you and the boy are safe. I will walk to the bank with you and wait outside. We watch you every moment. The boy will pay for any of your mistakes.”

  Using the arm he hadn’t twisted, she got out, gathered her strength and walked toward the bank. The man followed a few paces behind. She went in alone.

  “Hello, Mrs. Shannon.” She heard Heather’s friendly voice fill with concern. “Are you all right?”

  How did they read her distress? Was she disheveled from the manhandling? Did her fear and desperation about Milo show in her face? She must think faster and clearer than ever before in her life. Milo’s life and her own depended upon her making the best decision, though she had no idea what to do.

  She heard herself say, “I need to get into my lockbox, Heather, and once we’re in the vault, could we please talk for a minute?”

  Heather nodded soberly, got the bank key and the two walked into the vault, out of sight of the bank lobby. “Is something wrong, Mrs. Shannon?”

  “Yes. I need your help. Five men just broke into my house. Three are holding my four-year-old grandson hostage there while the other two brought me here to get lockbox items for them. Once they get them, they’ll kill us both. We must call the police, but the five men talk with cell phones. If police come here first, the men here will tell the others to kill my grandson. The police must make simultaneous raids here and at my house to prevent the men from warning each other. That means no sirens, no warning. Here is my home address. My only chance is calling the police.”

  “We have a phone right here inside the vault, Mrs. Shannon. I’ll get the police on the line and you can tell them about this yourself.”

  Jennifer held her arm. “If the man comes into the bank when we’re in the lobby, please act cheerful and I will also. We mustn’t let him know we have a plan. Maybe you could call me over, pretend to talk about some new bank product you’re selling. Anything to stall for time if that’s what we need to do.”

  “I understand. Once you’re on the phone, I need to tell my manager we have an incident underway so the bank is prepared as well.” She dialed 911, explained who she was and gave the phone to Jennifer, who repeated her story, stressing identical timing for the two raids.

  “Can you describe the two men and the car they’re driving?” the operator asked. Jennifer did, adding that one stood outside the bank and the other sat in the parked car in an adjacent lot.

  She described the car as best she could.

  “Stay by this phone in case we need to call you back, and don’t leave the bank until a policeman comes inside to get you.” Jennifer agreed.

  As Heather returned to the vault, Jennifer held up the sock of diamonds. “If something goes wrong and the men get this after all, I’d like to leave what’s valuable in the box but fill the sock with something else. Can you think of anything handy to produce this same bulge?”

  Heather laughed good-naturedly, reached into her sweater pocket and held up a bag. �
�M&Ms?”

  “Perfect,” Jennifer said gratefully. She emptied the sock’s contents into the lockbox and substituted the candies.

  “Did they say how long until they’ll be here?” Heather asked.

  “No, but a policeman will come inside to get me when it’s over.”

  “We could watch out the window.”

  “No, we don’t want to spook the man waiting outside. If he thinks something’s wrong, he’ll phone the others to harm my grandson.”

  This thought reminded her how frightened Milo must feel. When she saw him next, how could she make it up to him?

  She hoped he was still alive.

  Seeing two policemen approach the bank, the manager pressed the front door release button.

  He showed them where Jennifer waited inside the vault.

  “Don’t worry, Ma’am, we got both men outside the bank and impounded their car and cell phones for evidence.”

  “Oh, thank you so much. And at my house?”

  “We nabbed two men there all right, but no sign of a third man…or your grandson.”

  Jennifer’s heart sank. But she knew what she had to do.

  “Can you excuse me just a moment please,” she asked the policemen. “I need to close my lockbox and then I’d appreciate a ride home.”

  Jennifer found herself alone in the vault. She scooped something from the box into the M&M-filled sock before calling Heather to replace her security box.

  76

  Monday, 3:17 PM

  At home, Jennifer answered questions for the police. Adam arrived, joining them at the dining room table. When the others left, he stayed on.

  “Milo’s kidnapping is a high profile case in McLean. They’re assembling a task force to find him. They should arrive any minute.”

  “Wave them off, Adam. The diamond people may have a way to watch the house because they knew when I was there alone, except for Milo. They know police made arrests today and must be fuming, but I may have a chance to get Milo back unless more police swarm the house. Tell this task force to phone me instead of coming here. I’ll cooperate with them, but I don’t want the diamond people to panic while they have Milo.”