“Bingo!”
“Bingo, what?” asked Carlos.
“Bingo, it had something to do with a missing diamond.”
“That’s when Sheldon Marx bought the Chubb Sovereign safe. Right?”
“Exactly.”
“That explains the two safes, one for everyday inventory and the Chubb for the big guns, or diamonds in this case.”
“And,” said Dominic, “it explains why none of them know the combination. It’s the most dysfunctional business in town, I’ll tell you that, but it’s worked for thirty years.”
“Since then, they haven’t trusted each other,” I said, “have they?”
“Not as far as they can throw one another.”
Carlos asked, “How could none of them know the combination to the safe. Someone had to know it when they first bought it.”
“No, that’s just it,” Dominic replied. “That was the deal. Sheldon Marx insisted the salesperson that sold him the safe, write the four numbers down on separate pieces of paper and give one number to each owner. Oscar Shaul received the first, Eric Feldon the second with Dan Cohen and Rachel Marx receiving the third and forth respectively. Sheldon Marx kept the key. As long as they all had a piece to the puzzle, they were all comfortable knowing that whatever was in the safe was, well…safe.”
“So when Mister Marx died,” I said, “Rachel got the key.”
“That’s right, which only made sense. I don’t think the others minded that one bit.”
“Interesting.”
Across the diner, a bell over the door chimed and four more people walked in. I felt the room get suddenly smaller. I loosened my collar, took a sip of iced tea and swallowed it down like a rock.
“All right, now tell me, why did Marx Jewelers have so many expensive diamonds in their safe. Who needs that kind of inventory?”
Carlos started to explain that when our server returned to our table with his appetizer. She might just as well have blown a whistle calling time out, because work and eating are not multi-task activities Carlos indulges in as a matter of course. Realizing this, Dominic again took the lead.
“It’s the culmination of a year’s work,” he said. “Or so Daniel Cohen tells me. Cohen is a master jeweler and the real talent behind the company. He told me it’s common for people to trade out their expensive diamonds for fakes, especially these days.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, you figure a rock worth one, two, maybe three hundred thousand dollars is a real liability. It’s dangerous to wear out in public and expensive to insure if all you’re going to do is leave it in a safety deposit box all the time. The average cost of insuring a diamond is one-to-two percent the value of the diamond per year. That can add up quickly over the years.”
“I see your point.”
“So what do people do? They trade in their stones for pretty glass, pocket the money and enjoy the jewelry. Meanwhile, Marx, Feldon, Cohen and Shaul pick up primo ideal cut stones at near pawnshop pricing. At the end of the year they have a big blowout diamond sale where they clean up and make a fortune.”
“I see. So it’s all legit?”
Dominic cocked his head and shrugged a bit. “Who’s to say? Is it possible that occasionally someone drops off an expensive ring for cleaning, say before a big event like a wedding, and maybe leaves the next day with a shiny piece of glass? Who knows?”
“What about alibis?”
For that one, Carlos spoke up. “They all have one and they all suck.”
“Let me guess. They were all home alone, washing their hair, watching a movie or playing tiddlywinks with the dog.”
“Something like that,” said Dominic.
“As for evidence?”
Again, the bell over the door chimed. Two more patrons walked in, followed by a couple of cops from the First Precinct. I imagined the air in the diner growing increasingly thinner. The chatter of dishes, silverware and people began sounding like a symphony warming up, a chaotic hodgepodge of voices and instruments arguing out of time and step.
Dominic reached across the table and tapped my hand. I turned to look at him, only then realizing I’d been surveying the diner, attempting to sort out the confusion and make sense of it all.
“Did you hear me, Tony?”
“Hmm?”
“You asked about the evidence.”
“Yeah, right. What do we have?”
“Well, you saw the cigarette butt and the button.”
“Of course.”
“Okay, in addition to that, we have the two rust rings on the floor in the back room. The owners swear it wasn’t there the night before, so we’re looking into that. Also, Rick picked up some wood fragments in the alley. Definitely, pressure treated lumber. Rick agrees with our assessment of the impression on the door, that it came from a 2x12 measuring forty-two tall, the height of the deadbolt.”
I nodded. “Got a point of impact?”
“Near as we can tell?”
“Is that a question?”
“No. I mean, near as we can tell, the point of impact was twenty-four inches from the ground. I checked the bumpers on the owners’ cars. Two of them, Eric Feldon’s and Oscar Shaul’s, were high enough to have done it, but neither bumper showed any damage.”
“How about the cut A/C lines?”
“That’s still a mystery. I can’t see how disabling the air conditioning could help a jewelry heist go any smoother.”
“And the bed sheet?”
“Not sure. Maybe the burglars anticipated a bigger haul and thought they’d wrap everything up in the sheet to carry it off.”
“If that’s so, then why not several pillow cases? Wouldn’t they work better as a sack?”
Dominic shook his head and splayed his hands. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I have nothing more.”
“All right, good work, both of you. It’s early in the investigation. Maybe we can stay ahead of the curve, so listen up. Right after lunch, Carlos, I want you to check the blotter from last night. See if anyone reported anything suspicious in the area: people, vehicles, disturbance calls, neighbor complaints; that sort of thing.”
“I can do that.”
“And then I’d like you to conduct your own neighborhood canvass. Look for possible witnesses of unreported incidents. Maybe someone saw something and didn’t report it.”
“Okay, but it’s a commercial neighborhood, you know that. There’s not much pedestrian activity out there at night.”
“I know. Do it anyway.”
“I’ll give it my best.”
“That’s all I can ask. Oh, and if you still have time after that, I’d like you to work on verifying the owners’ alibis. If they were home, they might have placed calls, ordered movies on demand or late night takeout. We should be able to confirm that sort of thing.”
“Okay.”
“Tony,” said Dominic. “I can do that if you want. I’ll get with Judge Thompson and see if he’ll let us subpoena phone records.”
“Okay, do that. Include both house and cell records. Go back at least two months on those.”
“I’ll start on that right away.”
“No. Do it later. I have a special assignment for you right now. I’d like you to follow the diamond trail. Check for MOs of similar heists. Look for parallels. See where someone might unload twenty million dollars worth of diamonds. Also, call on all reliable informants and see if any of them heard of something like this about to go down. It just takes one slipup for someone to let the cat out of the bag.”
“Good thinking. I know just where to start. Now, what about you?”
Again, that damn bell over the door rang out, signaling the arrival of three more people, two more than the diner could possibly hold. Of that I was sure. I suddenly felt very small and insignificant. On the one hand, my instincts were dictating instructions on what to do next to solve the case. On the other, my brain was telling me to go back to the woods, to the portal. I knew it was waiting for me and
that it wouldn’t wait for long before closing up on its own forever.
“Tony?”
“Yeah.”
“You going to tell us what you plan on doing?”
“Sure. I…I have something I need to look into. Don’t ask me what.”
“That’s all right,” said Carlos. “You do whatever you need to do. We’re not questioning you.”
“Thanks. Now, both of you listen.” I checked my watch. “What do you say we meet up again at the Justice Center around five o’clock to compare notes again?”
“Works for me,” said Carlos.
Dominic agreed.
I got up and started from the table when Dominic called out, “But Tony, you didn’t—”
I turned around and saw Carlos’ hand on his, stopping him from saying whatever it was he was going to say. Didn’t eat anything. Didn’t tell us where you went when you left the jewelry store. It didn’t matter. Carlos had my back.
Chapter 11
I left the diner and drove to a quiet place on a dead end street, void of houses, people and all but the tiniest of living things. I wouldn’t call what I experienced at the diner an anxiety attack, but to deny it was something close to that would have been naive.
As soon as my nerves found an even keel, I took out my phone and called Lilith. She answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Tony.”
“Lilith. I just wanted to call to see how you were doing. Any luck finding the portal?”
“No. How’s your case going?”
“Good, but how do you know about that?”
“Ursula told me. See, her husband has the courtesy to call her occasionally and tell her how his day is going.”
“Lilith I—”
“You don’t have to explain. I know how you get once you sink your teeth into a juicy case. It’s just that you’ve been through a lot in the past five weeks—”
“Years.”
“Years. My point is I’m worried about you. I don’t want to call you at work, but at the same time, I’d like to know how you’re doing. Would it kill you to drop me a line now and then just to say hi, how are you, I’m doing fine?”
“Lilith, that’s why I’m calling. Hi. How are you? I’m doing fine.”
“Sure, now that I pried it out of you.”
“Forget it. How’s Jerome?”
“Oh yeah, there we go. That’s the real reason you called, isn’t it?”
“No, I’m just saying. I asked how you were, and now I’m asking about Jerome.”
She got quiet then. I thought she might have hung up on me. I softened my tone. “Lilith?”
She came back, “Your lumpy lizard is fine. He’s out back, probably chasing squirrels or something. Would you like me to go get him and put him on the phone?”
“Would you?”
“No! Tony, when are you coming home? The little fuck keeps whining about wanting to do a cookout. How does he know about cookouts, anyway?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll be home tonight, probably after six.”
“Better pick up some hotdogs and a bottle of tequila.”
“Jerome wants tequila?”
“Come on. Seriously?”
“What?”
“The tequila’s for me. After a day with Jerome, you might have to feed it to me intravenously.”
“I’ll see you when I get there.”
I ended the call thinking I could use a shot of tequila myself. But more than that, I needed to see Jerome. I got back in the car and drove to the house. Sort of. I didn’t want Lilith to see me, so I parked the car a few blocks away and cut through neighbors’ yards to the back of our property. Once there, I called out in whispered shouts for him.
He came out of the trees, swinging like an ape. He was so glad to see me that he dropped right into my arms.
“Bossman! You find Jerome!”
“Yes, yes,” I said. “I found you, but keep it down. We don’t want Lilith to hear us.”
“Good witch no hear us. Jerome be quiet.”
I put him down and led him by the hand behind a group of moss-covered boulders. He instinctively blended in, camouflaging himself to look like green moss on grey stone.
“Jerome, guess what I found.”
“Hotdog?”
“No. Something better. I found the portal.”
“Bossman find portal?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah! We go home now.”
“Shhhh, not so loud.”
He dropped to a whisper. “We go home now.”
“I don’t know,” I said, hesitating. “I’m thinking of it, though.”
“Yes. We go now. Bossman show way.”
He took my hand and started leading me away.
“No. Wait.” I pulled my hand free. “It’s not that simple.” I got down on one knee and looked him in the eyes. “In fact, it’s complicated. See, this is where Lilith lives, and my friends, too.”
His expression softened as his excitement waned. “Jerome no friend?”
“No, it’s not that. Of course you’re my friend. You’re my best friend.”
Just hearing myself say that shocked me. I wondered what Carlos would have thought of those words. The truth was, though, Jerome was my best friend, for the past five years anyway. I sat down with my back to the boulders and crossed my legs Indian style. Jerome did the same.
“Bossman want Jerome to stay here?” he asked, though from the sound of his voice, I suspected he knew the answer already. I patted his knee and smiled.
“You know I’d like nothing better. But I have to tell you, if Lilith gets her way, and she usually does…” I trailed off, unable to finish.
Jerome patted my knee in the same fashion. “Bossman come with Jerome.”
I leaned my head back and listened to the breeze rustling through the trees. Such a far cry, I thought, from the cacophony of the diner. There in the woods the answer seemed simple. In the wild, lay everything I needed to survive. Ironic as it seemed, I could not imagine a simpler life than that of eating or being eaten by the very elements around me. How I missed the excitement of waking up on my feet, running, as instincts guided my steps, carrying me away from a danger I barely perceived.
Lilith insists I’d been gone for only five weeks. Yet time is a relative thing in a relative place. Is it possible to live a lifetime in the shell of an instant? How could I carry on in a world so different from the one I’d grown accustomed to? How can the future reconcile a past that’s never passed?
I pressed the back of my head to the mossy rock, closed my eyes and let images of the Eighth Sphere seep into my brain. Jerome squirmed to reposition himself beside me. I felt him rest his head upon my arm and drape his tail across my lap. I imagined him closing his eyes and calling forth memories of his homeland, wondering if he’d see it again, if I’d be there with him.
A few hours later, I awoke with a start, as Jerome hurried off in a chase that I knew would certainly end with another orphaned squirrel in the neighborhood.
I checked my watch. Four o’clock. Surprisingly, the case ran foremost in my mind. I pulled a business card from my pocket and called the number on it.
The party answered, “Hello?”
“Ms. Swan?”
“Detective Marcella. How nice of you to call. Do you have a break in the case?”
“Can we meet somewhere?”
“Sure. My hotel room?”
“I was thinking somewhere more conspicuous.”
“Of course. You name it.”
“There’s a little place on Jefferson called Lenny’s Bistro. Do you know it?”
“Passed it once or twice since I’ve been in town.”
“It’s four now. Can you meet me there in twenty minutes?”
“Can you make it thirty? Give me time to freshen up a little?”
“I’ll give you twenty. I don’t need you so fresh.”
“Fine, twenty.”
“See you there,” I said, and disconnecte
d.
Lenny’s is a nice little place, usually quiet, which isn’t always the case for establishments on Jefferson. I like it because the beer is always cold and the wait staff always warm, especially the bar tender, Silvia Belmonte, a blond beauty with perky assets and a Colgate smile.
I walked in and took a seat on a barstool closest to the window. Smooth jazz drizzled like honey out of overhead speakers, while faint whispers of live piano crept in from a niche in the back of the restaurant.
Behind the bar and stretched across the top of the mirror, ran a string of colored Christmas lights. Not that it was anywhere close to Christmas. Silvia strung them up there a few years earlier and decided she liked them so much that she never took them down. Said they made her smile, and everyone loves her smile.
One night, however, when the place was getting ready to close, she confided in me that customers tend to tip better when the lights are on. She said she experimented and could offer conclusive evidence. I told her it wouldn’t be necessary. That night I tipped her a twenty, so I guess she was right.
“Well what do you know? Detective Tony Marcella Junior.” Silvia always calls me Junior because she knew the old Tony Marcella. “How the hell are you, sweetie?”
“I’m good, Sil. How are you?”
“How do you think?” She put her arms up over her head and spoofed a ballerina twirl.
“I think you’re fine.”
“Thank you.” She wiped off the bar top with a towel and slapped a coaster down in front of me. “What’ll it be, hon, beer?”
“Yes, and uh listen, there’s a lady joining me shortly. Would you see that whatever she orders goes on my tab?”
“Oh? Not the wife?”
“No.”
“Uh-huh.”
“No, Silvia. It’s not like that. It’s business.”
“Of course.” She smiled and gave me a wink; I supposed to indicate that my secret was safe with her.
I started to open my mouth to offer additional protest to her insinuation, but she had already turned away to get my beer. About that time, I noticed a classy-looking black BMW X5 pulling up in front of the building.
As I waited to see who got out, Silvia returned with my beer. She set it down in front of me with a little whistle. “Hoo-ha, Tony. Is that your date?”
BURY THE WITCH: Book 10 (Detective Marcella Witch's Series) Page 11