by Ward Wagher
“Margravine.” He stood and gave his little bow.
“Precious,” Frank said. “I seem to have gotten myself into a bit of a pickle.
“I am not in the least surprised.” She grinned at the jeweler. “He gets himself into a pickle on a daily basis. The man cannot function without me.”
Frank stood up, walked around the desk and slipped the wooden box into her hands. “Happy Birthday, my dear. I know it is early, but I needed some help here.”
She looked at him curiously, then looked down and opened the box. “Oh! Oh my,” She said softly. She looked up at the jeweler. “Did you make this?”
Goldsmith nodded.
“This is… I am just speechless. I have never seen anything more lovely in my life. Your work is simply remarkable. Oh, Frank. This has got to be just about the nicest thing you have ever done.” She leaned over and kissed him. “By why are you doing this early?” She looked at him suspiciously. “What have you done, now?”
“My dear, we were having a discussion about the price and I realized I needed your advice.”
She looked at the jeweler and her eyes opened wide. “Is my husband trying to screw you out of a generous wage for this piece? Because, if he is, he will live to regret it.”
“Oh, no, my lady. He did not feel I was charging him enough.”
“Frank said that? Mister tight-wad? How much did you charge him?”
“Three-hundred-fifty…”
“Centaurans???” Wendy shouted. She took the box and set it on the desk, then pulled the necklace out and examined it more carefully.
Frank interjected himself back into the conversation. “I thought maybe you ought to take a look at his current stock and perhaps give him some advice on pricing. He told me the tourists just about cleaned him out.”
“We have got to fix that,” she said. “Starting with this piece. Frank, I am guessing this necklace would bring five and a half on Earth, wholesale.”
“Five and a half…” Goldsmith started.
“That is fifty-five hundred Centaurans, Mr. Goldsmith,” Frank helped out.
The jeweler sat down again quickly, and slapped his forehead. “Mazel tov,” he whispered. “I could send my girls to college. That is my dream.” He looked down at his lap.
Frank caught Wendy’s eye and held up one hand open with five fingers splayed, and three fingers on the other. She nodded.
“Mr. Goldsmith. I would like to pay you eight-thousand for the necklace.”
“Oh, no, no no. We had an agreement that it would be a few hundred Centaurans at most. I could not do that to you.”
“But I did not know what you would be making. It is only fair.”
He muttered almost inaudibly to himself while shaking his head. “Too much. Too much.”
“Name a price,” Frank said.
The jeweler looked up. “Maybe… four?”
“Four-thousand?” Frank said loudly.
“Okay, okay. Three.”
Frank leaned over and put his hand over his face. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Wendy smirking at him. He sighed. “Gerry, make out a letter of credit to Mr. Goldsmith for five-thousand Centaurans. UBS is opening a branch here in the village next week. They should be delighted to accept Mr. Goldsmith’s deposit.”
Goldsmith looked up at Frank again. “Thank you, Sir. I do not know what else to say.”
“No need to say more. Do not think of yourself as a burden to me. I view you as an asset to the community. You are creating wealth for all of us. That is what will make Montora successful. Wendy will help you set a foundation for your pricing as we move forward. I think you will be surprised at how well you do.”
“Thank you, Sir,” he said again. “Could I trouble you with one other thing… well two?”
“Of course, jeweler.”
“I have the last gold for the season with me. The river is too cold now for panning.”
“That makes sense. The river is probably too cold for me in July.”
Goldsmith chuckled slightly. “My insulated waders keep me comfortable.”
Now Frank laughed. “I keep underestimating you, Goldsmith. Anyway, go on.”
“I was working the river and noticed one of the villagers watching me, Aaron Shover.”
“Shover, Shover,” Frank snapped his fingers.
“He’s the one with the mouth,” Wendy said. “Kept asking questions when we were working on the road.”
“Oh, yes,” Frank said. “I remember him now. Kind of a creepy guy, if you ask me.”
“Well he asked me what I was doing,” Goldsmith said. “I told him I was looking for gems. ‘Right,’ he says. ‘You is panning for gold.’ I just looked at him and then he said, ‘If’n you share with me I won’t tell nobody.’”
Frank closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. “What did you say, then?”
“I told him I would have to ask you about that. He shut up then and left.”
“I’ll just bet he did.” Frank looked over and met Wendy’s eyes. He looked back at the jeweler. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will most certainly look into that. Let’s take care of your bullion and then you can be on your way.”
After lunch, Frank and Wendy were relaxing in the downstairs sitting room at the keep. Unlike most fireplaces, the one here threw most of the heat into the room. It was a cozy place to hide on a cold winter day.
“Do you think Aaron Shover has some friends in Cambridge?” Frank said.
“How would he communicate with them?” Wendy replied.
“A good question. But it makes me uncomfortable.”
“If the word gets out and we have a gold rush here, we will have the devil’s own time containing it, Frank.”
“That worries me too, Precious. In fact, I wonder if that isn’t what’s driving the duke. If he has come to the conclusion there are large amounts of gold under Montora, his greed could be driving him to make decisions which are stupider than usual.”
“Do you think that is it?”
“I don’t know. Goldsmith thinks there is a pile of it under here; probably gems too.”
“How long have you known?” Her voice sounded slightly threatening.
“I started thinking about it when the jeweler brought me his first shipment. It does make sense.”
“And what about the jewels? Those are sapphires in the necklace, I think.”
“I really doubt he found those by panning. I think he has a place up in the hills where he is digging them out. I do know he wanders around a lot. You know, my dear, we could be sitting on a treasure trove of minerals and precious metals.”
“Just another item to liven things up,” she said. “This place has not been boring.”
“For sure.”
“One other thing, Frank.”
“What’s that?”
She got up and walked over to slip into his lap. “Thank you for a wonderful gift. You are so thoughtful.”
Frank chuckled. “Believe me, it was my pleasure.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Harmon Eckert left the tavern later than usual. It was Friday night and he had been paid that day. He felt the need to celebrate. The ‘consulting’ contract with the Baltic Regiment kept him in beer money and allowed him to continue fixing up the house he had appropriated. Like many of the other buildings in Montora Village, it had been constructed as a decoration to add ambiance to the village. The interior was completely empty of completed walls, insulation, and utilities. However, the exterior of the house was attractive in a ginger-bread sort of way, and the roof didn’t leak.
The stone chimney on one side of the house included a completed fireplace, so Eckert had a modicum of heat. However, the lack of insulation and nature of most fireplaces to suck the heat up the stack made for an uncomfortable winter. The arrival of the Baltic Regiment had contributed to a paucity of building materials, and Eckert was to the point of giving up on the renovations until spring.
Several ind
iscretions had resulted in his arrival on Hepplewhite and now things were breaking his way for a change. He was doing useful work, people liked him, and he was able to live comfortably. Previous misfortunes had driven the demons from him and he was happy for the first time in his life. The consulting work with the Regiment was child’s play. All he had to do was wander around and give advice as they built their base on the slopes above the shuttle port. They seemed pathetically happy to receive his instruction on grading, foundation laying and the myriad other tasks required for their new home. Their retired combat engineer had died several months previously and they were without heavy construction experience.
Eckert never got drunk, however tonight he had a pronounced buzz and was therefore less aware of his surroundings than usual. So he was completely surprised when a pair of hands grasped each of his arms and marched him down the walk towards his home.
He looked back and forth and recognized his captors. “What is going on here, gennelmen?”
“You are going to stay quiet until we reach your house,” Sergeant Smith said. “Then we will have a conversation.” As usual, Jones said nothing.
Jones reached out and tried the door. It was locked. “Key in your pocket, Harmon?”
Eckert felt an arm released and reached in his pocket for the key card. “Right here, Sarge.”
“Let me do that,” Smith said. “Your breath would probably melt the thing.”
With a click, the door released and the men walked inside. Eckert tried to reach for the light switch. “Let’s just leave that, okay?” Smith said. “We would rather not be seen here and I don’t think you want people asking you what we were doing here either.”
A cold wind of fear finally penetrated the fumes surrounding Eckert’s brain. “I am happy to talk to you gennelmen, but if I don’t visit the fresher, there is going to be a terrible accident.”
Smith put a finger on Eckert’s chest to restrain him. “We won’t keep you that long, Harmon. We just need to have a word.”
“You’d better start talking, then, because I am about to wet my pants.”
“Jones and I are sure you don’t want the margrave to find out about your background.”
“What are you talking about?” Eckert fervently hoped Smith & Jones didn’t know what they were talking about.
“Skipped out from Caledon. Left charges behind you and a bondsman out of about ten K.”
“Sweet Queen of Heaven, who else knows about this?” Eckert was badly frightened now and completely sober. A small dribble of urine ran down his leg, and encouraged him to keep his legs together.
“It is not widely known, Harmon. We aim to keep it that way. You been keepin’ your nose clean since you been here and people like you. We been watchin’ you and decided we could trust you.”
“But…” Eckert waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Ah, the rub,” Smith said. “You got arrested for Breaking and Entering.”
“My girl friend… my ex-girlfriend took… well… you probably know all about it.”
“I would say to tell it to the judge, but we don’t plan on getting you in front of a judge.”
Eckert sucked in breath and felt the hands on his arms again.
“Relax, Harmon. All we need is for you to do a little B & E for us.”
“Are you crazy? You will get me thrown into the margrave's dungeon; or sent back to Caledon. Going back to the Commonwealth would not be healthy for me.”
“Nobody is going to know. You got arrested only once, after a thirty year career in the business as they say. But it seems you have retired.”
“Oh, bless you, yes. They put the fear of the Maker in me, they did. Decided, I did, that it was time to hang up my hat while my head was still attached.”
“Like I said, Harmon, we are really happy with your retirement here. The margrave would not be happy with me if I let something happen to you. So, Jonesy and I will keep an eye out for you while you take care of our business.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“We need you to slip into somebody’s house for a look around and then get out again without anybody knowing somebody was there.”
“Does this somebody have a name?”
“I knew you would see reason. Yes, we need you to look around in Aaron Shover’s house.”
“Shover is an idiot,” Eckert said.
“We are not convinced of that. We think he might be funneling information back to the duke.”
“That weasel! Okay, I’ll go in anyway. But I’m counting on you two to keep me out of trouble. When do we do this?”
“He is still tanking at the tavern,” Smith said. “Tonight is as good a time as any.”
“Okay, just… please, let me go to the fresher,” Eckert said.
“Sure,” Smith laughed. “You have great bladder control, Harmon.”
“Not exactly.”
Smith & Jones both laughed.
The streets were quiet as the three men walked towards the south side of the village. The looming shadow of the newly completed sewage treatment plant provided a deeper darkness. The crenelated structure mimicked the architecture of the village and keep.
“I am surprised it was so easy to talk you into this, Harmon,” Smith said.
“Let me clear up a misunderstanding. I am not a burglar.”
Smith snorted. “The Callie Police were certainly misinformed then.”
“That was the only time I ever stole something, and it was mine to begin with. The little wench cleaned out my personal jewelry and cash stash. I simply retrieved it.”
“And they found an entire museum of burglary tools at your home too. Give me a break, Harmon.”
Eckert stopped walking with a sigh. “Let me tell you about my hobby. I was a general contractor, right? I had a thirteen or fourteen million Pound business.”
Smith whistled. “What’s the exchange rate?”
“Oh, about four-fifty or four-seventy-five Centaurans to the Callie Pound. As I was saying, when I was young and foolish, I once had to retrieve some tools I left on a job. Rather than bother the owner, I thought, why not just let myself in and get the things. Nobody was any the wiser. And you know, I got a rush out of that.”
“I can understand that,” Smith said. “We’ve done a lot of sneaking and peeking during our careers.”
“Well that was my problem. It became a challenge, you see, to slip in and out of a home or a business without leaving tracks, as it were. Then I would slip in while people were home and asleep. You have no idea what it is like to ghost through somebody’s home while they are asleep. It’s like you own the place.”
Jones stared at Eckert in the dark. “Eckert, you are one strange dude.”
Eckert giggled nervously. “And you know what the ultimate rush is? When you can sneak through someone’s house during the daytime, when they are up and about.”
“And you did this for what?”
“About twenty-five years. Never got caught.”
“Until you burgled your girlfriend.”
“Nope. Got in and out with no problem. Oh, I was tempted to leave a little calling card, or something, but decided that would be unwise. No, she knew about my little hobby, and when the things disappeared from her apartment, she called the police on me. They found my little tool room, and that, my friends, was that.”
“A good lesson on not telling your secrets to people,” Smith said.
“There is that. Samantha and I had been together for five years. I thought we would spend the rest of our lives together. Having a relationship like that come apart on you tends to affect your judgment. I should have left well enough alone.”
They began walking again.
“I do trust you have not been exercising your little hobby here in Montora,” Smith said.
“Oh, believe me, while slipping through peoples’ houses is a thrill, having the Police pull you in with the threat to deprive you of your liberties – that is terrifying. Let’s just say,
I don’t go there anymore.”
“Except tonight.”
“This is under duress, Sergeant.”
“You didn’t seem to need a lot of duressing.”
“Right you are. I figure I am under the protection of the law tonight. If we get into something you cannot handle, I am sure the margrave will straighten things out.”