Death and Diamonds

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Why couldn’t he use his own muscle?”

  “I don’t know, maybe they’re too well known to the police.”

  “Good point.”

  “And since the two guys who killed Glickstein were most likely Filipino, I think we can assume the ‘A Team’ was Sanguillen’s men.”

  “Right.”

  “Besides, I doubt Shakey’s own guys would have gunned him down on that dock.”

  “Right. Now, about that . . .”

  “Here’s how I make it out,” Frank said. “They decide to check out the jewels—maybe to divide them right there, maybe just to get a look at them. I don’t know. But they must have had a magnifier, because somebody realized the gems were fake. That’s when the fight started, I’ll bet—and it ended with Sanguillen or his guys taking down Twist and dumping him in the bay. Then, figuring Glickstein was the one who made the fakes for Shakey, they went to the city and killed him, too.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “That’s a crazy theory. Are you saying that between the time the diamonds were certified by Edmondson and the time the thieves broke into the center that night, the diamonds were switched for fakes that were made just for the occasion?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but, well . . . yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

  I pondered this for a while, but I couldn’t think of a better explanation. In fact, I couldn’t think of any other explanation.

  “Okay, then,” I finally said, “so someone substituted the fakes for the real thing. But who? And how did they do it?”

  “Let’s start with the how,” Frank said. “Remember, a lot of the protection systems were disabled by Sanguillen and Twist. Whoever substituted the fakes must have known the robbery was coming and pulled a double cross, figuring that Sanguillen and Twist would get blamed, while they themselves got away with the real goods.”

  “So who have we got for suspects?” I asked. “They would have had to be inside the center during that day.”

  “Right. And they would have had to know about the robbery. And be ready with the fakes.”

  “I’ll bet it was Glickstein who made them. He was into illegal activities up to his neck, and his name keeps popping up all over this thing.”

  “Okay,” Frank said. “Let’s see. Hal Harris knew a robbery might be coming.”

  “Too obvious,” I said. “The head of security for the convention center? He’d be the first one they’d look at if there were suspicions of an inside job.”

  “Vincent Carrera?”

  “Possibly. I’ll try to get Chief Collig and Harris to get his alibi for that afternoon. But if you think about it, he would have been pretty busy. He was the one responsible for everything about the show going perfectly.”

  “True. I agree he’s not a likely candidate, but definitely worth checking. How about Shakira and Naomi?”

  “Are you nuts?” I said. “They’re supermodels!”

  “So? That makes them automatically innocent?”

  “No, but come on—Naomi’s got to be worth millions, and Shakira will be soon if she isn’t already.”

  “You never know,” Frank countered. “People lose fortunes amazingly fast sometimes. And you can never underestimate the power of greed—especially where diamonds are concerned.”

  “I guess . . .”

  “And remember, Shakira dated Shakey not long ago. They supposedly broke up—but what if they didn’t? She would have known about the upcoming heist and could have taken steps to double-cross him.”

  “But she didn’t know Glickstein.”

  “How do you know?” he asked. “Maybe she met him through Twist.”

  He had a point. It was a definite possibility.

  “What about Naomi, then?” I asked. “She has no mob connections.”

  “No? What about Bobo?”

  “Bobo? He wasn’t in the mob, was he?”

  “He was in Sing Sing. With Twist. And Naomi says they hated each other. Maybe this was Bobo’s way of getting even with Shakey.”

  “And now he’s disappeared!” I said. “Frank, it fits!”

  “We’ve got to find him, Joe. Either he’s our man, and he’s got the diamonds, or Sanguillen’s caught up with him, and Bobo’s already dead.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Where do we start?”

  “I guess at the hotel,” Frank answered. “Maybe Naomi’s got an idea where he might have gone. She’s the only one left who knows him.”

  “Good plan,” I said, and we were off. We hopped on our bikes and roared out of there, arriving at the hotel ten minutes later.

  “We’ve got to speak with Naomi Dowd,” Frank said to Officer Edwards, who was manning the front desk.

  “Sorry, Frank,” he said. “She left about ten minutes ago.”

  “She left?”

  “Yeah—Chief said you asked us to finish up with her quickly.”

  “I did,” he admitted. “But I didn’t realize then—oh well, thanks anyway. Come on, Joe.”

  I bet Frank wanted to kick himself. If only he’d known the diamonds were fake, he’d never have told the chief to let her go. Between that and Bobo’s disappearance, we really needed to talk to her now—she might hold the key to solving the case!

  We emerged back out onto the street. The sun had just set, and the clouds were lit up in gorgeous colors over the bay, just like a painting. “Where to now?” I asked.

  “I haven’t got a clue, Joe.” Just then, his cell phone chirped, and he flipped it open. “Hello? Naomi! Where are you?”

  He listened, and his face grew dark with worry. “Are you sure the car’s following you? Okay, okay, I believe you. Just . . . You pulled into the park? Oh, man. No, that probably wasn’t a good idea—it’s a dead end. . . . Wait—there’s an old boathouse past the parking lot. If you can’t drive out of the park because the entrance is covered, park your car off the road, behind some bushes or something, and hide in the boathouse till I get there. . . . I’ll meet you there in five minutes.”

  “Jeez!” I said when he hung up. “What was that all about?”

  “She’s in her car, and she’s being followed,” he said. “You heard the rest.”

  “Why would they be following her?” I asked.

  Frank sighed. “I’m not sure, Joe,” he said. “But it’s my job to protect her.”

  “I’m coming with you,” I said.

  “No. Not with me,” he said. “I need you to alert Chief Collig. Tell him to send anyone he can spare. Then meet me there.”

  “Great plan, bro—if I don’t get there too late.”

  “Leave that to me. I think I can handle myself for ten minutes.”

  I grinned. “Ah, yes, a man in love.”

  “Shut up,” he said, and gave me a shove. But he couldn’t hide the redness in his cheeks.

  I just hoped he wasn’t letting that crush get in the way of his good judgment.

  15.

  Down by the Bay

  I don’t think I’ve ever ridden faster. It took me three minutes to get to Bayfront Park—record time. I pulled into the drive and cut the motor. My bike may be fast, but it’s also really loud, and I didn’t need to be announcing my arrival—so I reached into the bike’s storage compartments, took a few items I thought might come in handy, and took off on foot toward the boathouse.

  There was no doubt in my mind that Naomi was in deep trouble. The fear in her voice over the phone was all too real. I jogged down the road to the parking lot and hid behind a tree to check it out.

  There were two cars in the lot. One was a red convertible with the top down. I could just see Naomi picking it out from the rental car lot. The other car, parked at a funny angle right behind it, was a slick-looking black sedan with tinted windows and a long radio antenna poking out of the trunk.

  Just the kind of car a hit man would be driving.

  I ran toward the old boathouse, keeping out of the light by hugging the trees at the edge of the
parking lot.

  The door to the boathouse was open. I’d known it would be. Months ago the place had been vandalized by a bunch of kids, and the town hadn’t yet gotten around to fixing the broken lock.

  I could hear a man’s voice inside, speaking in low tones. And I could hear the loud breathing, mixed with frightened sobs, of a girl who wanted to stay alive.

  “You’re going to tell me, aren’t you?” the heavily accented voice said. “Or do I have to ruin that perfect face of yours?”

  “No! Please, no! I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  It was Naomi, all right.

  “You’d better change your mind, girl, and tell me the truth.”

  “I am! I am telling the truth!”

  “I don’t think so,” he growled. “You know they used to call me the butcher? You know why? Because I’m so good with a carving knife.”

  I wasn’t going to wait around to find out what happened next. I picked up a short stick from the ground and stuck it into the pocket of my leather jacket. Then I took a deep breath and kicked the door open the rest of the way.

  The inside of the boathouse was dark, the only light coming from the distant lamps along the riverside pathway, filtering in through the grimy windows.

  In the center of the boathouse was a thick wooden pole the width of a decent-size tree trunk. It appeared to hold up the whole building. Strapped to the pole, with her hands tied behind her back, stood Naomi Dowd.

  And facing her, standing with his shoulders hunched over as he recoiled from the surprise of my entrance, was Carlos Sanguillen, a huge knife in his hand. It glinted in the dim light, sharp and threatening.

  “Freeze!” I shouted as loud as I could. My right hand was stuffed in my pocket, jabbing the stick into the leather so it looked—I hoped—like a gun. “Drop your weapon!”

  Sanguillen slowly raised the hand with the knife. “You’re making a big mistake,” he snarled.

  “Just drop it, okay?” I demanded.

  “You do not use your head, my friend,” Sanguillen said, turning the knife my way. “Lift the curtain from in front of your eyes, and see what is really happening!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

  He spat on the ground and shook his head. “You don’t want to see. You are blinded by beauty. You are nothing but a fool.”

  “Drop it, mister,” I said as he took a step forward. “And stay right where you are!”

  “Yes, a fool,” he said, taking another slow step. “The kind of fool who pretends to have a gun when he really doesn’t.”

  “You’re mistaken,” I said, standing my ground and trying to keep my legs from trembling. “Now back off!”

  “I don’t think I am mistaken.” Another step. “Otherwise, show me the gun.”

  I laughed. More of a snort, really. “You’re taking a big chance.”

  He smiled, showing me at least three gold teeth. “You are nothing but a boy. Yes, a boy in love. Ha!”

  He flew at me, his knife raised. My hand came out of my pocket, the stick blocking his knife and snapping from the blow. With my left, I gave him a solid uppercut to the nose.

  He reeled backward, bleeding from the nose and mouth, but he was still holding on to the knife. “Okay, you worm,” he said. “Now you die. You and she both.”

  He rose to his feet, and I waited for his next attack, bracing myself. Where in the world was Joe? Hadn’t it been ten minutes by now? It felt like hours!

  The knife whizzed through the air. I ducked to the left as his hand came down, then pulled on the knife arm and flipped him head over heels.

  Amazingly, he was still holding onto the knife. Unfortunately for him, the sharp end was now sticking out of his back.

  Yikes! I hadn’t really meant things to work out like this.

  “Is he dead?” Naomi asked in a trembling whisper as I bent over him, feeling his pulse.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Oh, Frank, thank you! You saved my life!”

  “I . . . guess I did,” I said, backing away from the body.

  “Untie me, quick!” she said. “There may be more of them coming!”

  I took the razor I’d brought with me from the motorcycle and cut through the plastic handcuffs, freeing her.

  “My hero,” she said, throwing her arms around my neck and kissing me right on the lips.

  Now my knees were really wobbling. I mean, this was a dream come true, in a way. But on the other hand, there was Sanguillen, lying there, stone cold dead. And any minute, more of his men might show up.

  I tried to untangle myself from her arms, but it wasn’t easy.

  At first I thought it was me—just so weak and stressed out by the fight. But no, it was Naomi—holding on to me, not letting go.

  Was she that freaked out, I wondered? Or was she just crazy about me because I’d saved her life? The more I thought about it, the more it felt like she was, well, trapping me there.

  I somehow got up the strength to pry her arms off of me. As I stepped back, I saw a black shape blocking the open doorway. The shape of a man.

  A very big man.

  I thought I recognized that hulking form. “Bobo?”

  “Well, hello there, Mr. Bodyguard,” he said, stepping forward into the dim light. Then he saw Sanguillen lying on the floor. “Nice work, buddy. Thanks for the help.”

  “The help?” I repeated. “Seems to me I didn’t get any help from you.”

  “Like I said, thanks,” he said. “Me and Naomi, we’re very grateful.”

  “No problem. No hard feelings, then?” I asked, thinking he was sticking out his hand to shake mine.

  That’s when I saw the gun.

  “What the—?”

  “Put your hands behind your back,” he said. “Do it now.”

  I did as he said. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Surprised?” he said. “Not as stupid as I look, huh? Okay, Naomi, cuff him.”

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “Naomi?” She was already behind me, strapping a plastic cuff around my wrists.

  “I’ll explain later, once we’re on the boat,” she whispered in my ear as she shoved me forward. “Right now, we’ve got to get out of here.”

  It had to be ten minutes by now—where was Joe? If I could just stall them a little longer, I knew he’d show up, along with half the Bayport Police Department—

  They must have known it too. That’s why they were in such a hurry.

  I dragged my feet. I stumbled and fell every chance I got. Bobo pistol-whipped me whenever I did that, but I didn’t care—it was better than whatever else they had in mind for me.

  In the distance I could hear the roar of Joe’s bike.

  Come on, Joe!

  They forced me down to the water, where a small speedboat was tied up. “Get on,” Bobo said. “NOW!”

  He shoved me over the rail, and I landed in a heap on the deck. Joe’s engine was getting really loud now, but that also meant he wouldn’t hear me if I cried out for help.

  The bike’s engine shut off. “JOE!” I yelled.

  Bobo gunned the engine, and the boat lunged forward. Still lying on the deck, I rolled over toward the stern—and saw Joe appear at the shoreline.

  Too late!

  I felt Naomi’s hands on my back. She helped me to sit up straight, then sat down next to me.

  “Sorry about this, Frank,” she said. “I feel bad about it. I mean, you just got through saving my life, and now, well . . .”

  “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you.” It was a statement, not a question.

  She didn’t answer yes or no. Instead, she said, “I feel I owe you a full explanation.”

  “Good,” I said. “I’d like that.”

  “You see, Bobo and I—well, this is a big secret—we’re going to get married. Next week—in Paraguay.”

  “Paraguay?”

  “It’s this country in South America where they don’t send you bac
k to the States to face trial.”

  “You’re the ones who switched the fake diamonds for the real ones!” I said, feeling like a complete idiot.

  She smiled and nodded. “Pretty brilliant, huh? We found out Shakey and Sanguillen were going to steal them, and we worked out how to make them take the blame, while we got away with the real diamonds!”

  Bobo was steering us straight out into the heart of the bay, far from anything. I began to see what they had in store for me: a watery grave. Then they’d continue out, into open water. Somewhere out there, a bigger boat was waiting for them, one they could ride clear to South America.

  “When you and Joe showed up at the convention center, at first I thought it was going to mess everything up,” Naomi said. “If you’d been able to stop Shakey and Sanguillen from stealing the fakes, it would have ruined the whole plan. Luckily, you didn’t.”

  “Yeah. That was real lucky,” I said, wishing I could get that razor blade back out of my pocket and cut my cuffs off. “How did you pull the switch?” I asked. “Just curious.”

  “That was the beauty part,” she said. “We knew Sanguillen and Shakey would be messing with the alarms and the security systems. So they wouldn’t be working right when Bobo switched them.”

  “How did he open the cases?”

  “He waited till the motion sensors went dead. Then he just lifted the cases up and took the diamonds.”

  “But—”

  “Remember when I sent him to get my iPod? Remember how long he was gone?”

  I did remember, come to think of it. So that was when he switched the gems!

  “Who made the fakes for you?”

  “Glickstein,” she said.

  “Of course! And that’s why they killed Glickstein when they found out the gems were fake!”

  “Uh-huh. He was supposed to get a share of the money afterward—but Bobo and I figured the others would take care of that for us. And they did! The poor man . . .

  “We knew once Shakey and Sanguillen found out the gems had been switched, they’d hit the ceiling. One would surely kill the other, and then, thinking Glickstein had double-crossed him, the survivor would pay him a little visit. And thanks to you, Frank, we don’t have to worry about Sanguillen anymore.”