A Cadgers Curse

by Diane Gilbert Madsen

  "So handwriting, paper, and ink all check out as bona fide."

  "Positively original. I also researched Book Auction Record and American Book Prices Current. There's no record of this poem or of the glass ever having being sold."

  "Thanks for checking. That's important."

  "Remember I told you about that Burns scholar in Scotland? I e-mailed him and he got back to me. He hadn't heard of anything either, and he is very excited to see if these are genuine"

  "So...?»

  "So I'm still running the last few tests, but you must know what this means, DD."

  "That these things might be genuine?"

  "I think so. And I believe I can cautiously estimate a sale price of three to four million."

  "Dollars or pounds?"

  "Oh, good old USA dollars."

  "Whoa. In a way, that's why I'm calling. I hope the Watch Wolf's doing his job, because my office just got ransacked."

  "Oh, no. What happened? What'd they take? Are you okay?"

  "I'm okay, but I don't know who did it, and I don't know yet what they took. I can't find anything missing. It probably has to do with one of my other cases, but somebody might be after the Burns stuff. I wanted to warn you just in case. Maximum security's in order."

  "Even as we speak, all doors and windows are locked securely, the alarm is on, and Wolfie's on the sofa."

  "Good. And don't feed him too much, just in case somebody does break in. Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you, my librarian friend at Grey Towers researched Katherine Bruce for me. Burns visited her at Clackmannan Tower right after he'd broken the window. I think those initials 'KB' might be hers. I'll forward her email. Oh, and one last thing, Tom."

  "Yeah?"

  "I'll be moving into your spare office later today if it's still okay with you."

  "Let's do it."

  "And I'll have my phone number call-forwarded"

  "Sure. And I already made another key for you. I'll be here till about ten tonight. It's best you come while I'm here, or Wolfie might eat you. He's housebroken, but he distrusts strangers."

  THIRTY-SIX

  I HUNG UP, WONDERING if I'd made another wrong decision. I had the feeling Tom wasn't completely joking, and I wasn't exactly looking forward to meeting the Watch Wolf.

  Sighing, I picked up the dreaded brown envelope. I hoped the phone would ring again or someone would come to the doorsomething, anything to keep me from having to open it. I knew it held secrets, and I was afraid of the past, afraid of opening the wound that would never fully close.

  I held it up, thinking and remembering. Inside were copies of the police reports on Frank's suicide, the autopsy report, and the few personal possessions he'd had on him that awful night. I had remained unwilling all this time to open it and confront the unthinkable.

  But the thought of Frank's family ring had been nibbling at my subconscious. Maybe this was a sign, as Auntie would say.

  I took a deep breath, opened it and reached in. The first thing I pulled out was Frank's Maurice Lacroix watch. Flares went off in my head. He'd loved that watch. The hands were stopped at 7:49. I held it a long time before I put it down and took out the file. It was labeled "Case Number 06-05-0113."

  The top page was a police intake form which logged in three calls reporting a body falling from a balcony at Frank's address and recording subsequent dispatch times of patrol officers and emergency personnel to the scene.

  Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I tried to keep my heart from racing as I read over the incident report signed by Detective Marvin Stamler.

  "On May 13th at 19:52 hours, I was dispatched to the above address in response to reports concerning a jumper. On arrival, the lifeless body of a male Caucasian, 45-55, was on the ground, face down, with the top of the head pointing east. The body appeared to be fully dressed wearing a blue shirt, beige slacks, black socks, and one shoe on the left foot. A matching shoe, right foot, was five feet south of the body. Blood and brain matter had coagulated around the head."

  Jerked back into the old nightmare, I could hear the crickets, smell the verbena in the night air, feel again the happiness in my heart as I unloaded packages from the car. Then suddenly the horror engulfed me again when I saw ... what I saw.

  I shook my head and forced myself to continue reading Detective Stamler's report. "I directed the Crime Scene Unit, under supervision of Investigator Edmond Casserly, to make a full investigation and to check whether the victim had any trace evidence under his fingernails or on his clothing. (See Report.) I asked to be immediately informed if there was any identification found on the body.

  "I directed other assigned officers to canvass the apartment building while I went to obtain statements from the four individuals who had reported the incident: Doris Coker, Ted and Lucy Melton and Rebecca Rose Chamberlin. All these witnesses live at the above address and were parking their cars when they saw a body fall to the ground. None was able to identify which floor the body came from. None of them knew the victim. (See Statements.)

  "The Crime Scene Unit brought to my attention a wallet removed from the body containing a current Illinois driver's license of Frank Gordon, residing this address, Apartment 1888. The description appeared to match up with the victim. The face was unrecognizable.

  "After obtaining this information, I called for a search warrant on his apartment while the Crime Scene Unit continued searching the scene, collecting evidence and making sketches and triangulations and sweepings of the area. A Miss DD McGil arrived on the scene at 20:15 hours. She stated she had been shopping at Water Tower Place and claimed she was Frank Gordon's fiancee. When asked to make a personal identification of the body, she agreed and confirmed it was Frank Gordon. She was treated by the EMT unit on site. I later got a statement from her as to Mr. Gordon's habits, present state of mind and health, as well as any business or personal dealings which might impact his sudden death. She told me he had no known enemies and was in an excellent frame of mind, as they were to be married shortly. She adamantly denied he would commit suicide. She provided a list of acquaintances and relatives of the victim. (See Statement.)

  "I then asked Ms. McGil to unlock the door to Apartment 1888 at 20:28 hours with her key. There was no sign of forcible entry. I entered alone and searched the entire unit. There was no evidence of any disturbance in any room. Sliding glass doors leading to the balcony were open. There was no sign of a struggle or any disturbance on the balcony. There were no apparent markings on the balcony balustrade. There was no suicide note in plain sight.

  "Ms. McGil was then asked to accompany me through the apartment. She knows his possessions well and could check for possible robbery. She told me everything seemed to be accounted for and in its usual place.

  "I next directed the Crime Scene Unit to photograph the entire apartment and balcony. I asked them to search for fingerprints due to possibility of robbery and to also search for any suicide note. (See Report.)

  "I accompanied the body to the Coroner's office and met with the pathologist, Dr. Brian Pines. (See Report.)"

  Something wet hit the report. I realized it was the tears trailing down my cheek. I wiped them away as I perused each of the witness reports. Then I picked up the twelve-page Crime Scene Report done by Investigator Casserly. It cataloged all the items of evidence and scrapings and combings that had been collected and fingerprints that had been taken to be transmitted to the State Crime Lab.

  The laboratory report from the State Crime Lab was attached. It recorded each piece of evidence, then listed the results of all the examinations made on the evidence. Much of it was too scientific for me to understand. But some of it was easy, like the information on Items 06-05-0113-M2 and 06-05-0113-M3 that recorded the scrapings from under Frank's fingernails and concluded: "No foreign material found."

  I remembered it had been that very piece of evidence that had helped clinch a verdict of suicide at the Coroner's Inquest. That, and Ken's testimony. I went through the file and located his Witn
ess Statement, feeling sick all over again at what he'd said. And what he'd implied.

  Ken testified that Frank had told him on more than one occasion that he did not want to marry me. Frank, he said, had confided he was terrified he might become impotent because of the prostate cancer. According to Ken, Frank was despondent and wanted to call off the wedding, but didn't know how. Ken believed suicide was Frank's way out.

  The police, the coroner, the news media, all Frank's university colleagues, everybody in fact believed it. Everybody but me. I would never believe it. We'd been too close, too happy. Yes, he had prostate cancer, but I told the cops to check with Frank's doctor. His doctor had given him a clean bill of health. When the cops did check and confirmed what I told them, they insisted that, despite the good prognosis, many men harbor irrational fears of impotence. The cops also made a big deal about Frank not using his insurance to pay off his medical bills. I explained that Frank was a private person. I explained he didn't want his colleagues at the university to know about the cancer. For me, this issue of Frank's strong desire for privacy was what convinced me he could never have jumped off a balcony and smashed himself to kingdom come on the pavement in front of our building, in front of me.

  At the time, I'd wondered why Frank had confided in Ken. They'd never been close. I wondered about it again now. No suicide note was ever found, and I could never accept that he wouldn't have said goodbye to me. Which, the cops said knowingly, is exactly what loved ones say in cases like this.

  I removed the band around the photographs taken that night at the scene. The shot of one of his shoes on the pavement made me choke on my tears.

  I gathered up the broken watch along with his key chain, comb, wallet and handkerchief and dropped them back in the envelope. His ring wasn't with the other contents. I searched through the mess on the floor, sifting through everything, but still didn't find it. Starting over, I went through every scrap of paper, every rubber band and every paper clip, careful not to overlook anything. His family ring, given to him by his father, had meant a great deal to Frank, and he'd worn it always. But when I finished my search, it was still missing.

  I carefully reviewed the police report cataloging the victim's personal possessions. The ring wasn't on it.

  Damn those crooked cops. One of them must have stolen it. I threw the report across the room.

  Furious, I studied all the photographs again, this time focusing on Frank's hands. The large ring with its distinctive square black stone should have been visible, but I didn't spot it either on his hand or on the ground. If he wasn't wearing it, then maybe the cops hadn't stolen it. But Frank never took the ring off. So if he wasn't wearing it, what the hell had happened to it? It wasn't in the apartment. I'd gone through there personally. So where was it? That ring on Ken's hand had looked so much like Frank's. Yet Frank had told me his ring was one of a kind, handed down from his great-great grandfather through the eldest sons.

  I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, but still no real answers. Only more questions.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  I PACKED THE REST of the files and books and took one last look at Frank's file before adding it to the others. That missing ring kept rankling, but right now I had to move out of Consolidated.

  After getting my number call-forwarded, I unplugged everything and boxed the phone, coffeepot, and computer. Then I trudged back and forth, packing the car with boxes until there was barely enough room for me to slide into the driver's seat. I was leaving my old chair and desk, an empty file cabinet and two trash cans. Scotty, I hoped, would help me move them later tonight. I shut the door for the last time and saluted my old office good-bye with none of my previous sentimentality. I added an extra "good riddance" to my closet, feeling confident that Auntie's vision had been the terrible mess and nothing more sinister. Moving would, hopefully, effectively block any other possible problems from that quarter.

  I downshifted into a U-turn out of my parking spot and realized I couldn't see out the rear-view mirror or any of the windows for that matter. For once, I'd have to drive defensively.

  I nearly yelled for joy when I spotted a parking space on the street near Tom's shop. I juggled the heavy boxes of files as I approached Tom's door, and the top one tumbled off, banging into the gray steel door. A deep, throaty growl pierced my ears and stopped me in my tracks. I froze, trying not to move and not to drop everything.

  The barking stopped as Tom opened the door. I peeked around the boxes. Standing next to him was a hundred-and-ten-pound wolf with yellow eyes. I thought of the Hound of the Baskervilles. The wolf was now growling, a deep, low sound. I could see its sharp front teeth. I don't mind saying it was scary as hell.

  "Don't worry," Tom said, smiling and patting the wolf's head. "This is Wolfie. Wolfie, this is DD McGil. I told him you were coming.

  The wolf stopped growling but still fastened on me with those yellow eyes.

  "Say hello to him, DD."

  "Hi, Wolfie," I murmured softly through my teeth, careful to not upset the delicate social balance we'd apparently reached. I made no moves and kept my eyes lowered, just like they'd taught at the insurance investigator's safety class a year ago, although admittedly that had dealt with ferocious dogs, not wolves.

  Wolfie picked up a stuffed dog toy between his very sharp teeth. His fierce expression didn't change, however.

  "He's usually gentle as a puppy. Right now he's a little agitated because a rude customer just left. He doesn't bother anyone unless they get aggressive."

  I glanced again at Wolfie and wasn't convinced. He'd look more at home carrying a ten-pound chunk of bloody meat instead of that stuffed dog toy.

  I dumped the boxes near the door and stayed right there. "Is it true," I asked Tom, "that all dogs are descended from wolves?"

  "It is," Tom confirmed as he shifted my boxes into the little back room cum my office. "Canis lupus, aka the grey wolf, the timber wolf and the tundra wolf, has been on this earth some 120 million years. The order Carnivora."

  "Loosely translated-meat eaters, right?"

  "Not loosely, DD. Expressly. Wolves and dogs are in the same family-Canidae. They all have fangs or pointed canine teeth, sharp claws, and simple digestive systems."

  "Simple digestive systems? Wait a minute. Didn't you tell me Wolfie ate pizza?"

  Tom laughed and petted Wolfie. "Well his brain is highly developed. He's intelligent enough to make good diet choices. In fact, we're ordering pizza tonight for our dinner from Salerno's. He likes sausage, pepperoni, hamburger, and bacon-no anchovies. Let's see, what do you want on yours?"

  I knew Tom liked Salerno's. Less than two blocks away, they always delivered his favorite thick crust Chicago-style pizza piping hot out of the oven because he was such a good customer. I wondered how the delivery boy was going to like Wolfie.

  "Sounds like fun," I said wryly, "but I can't. Scotty arrived unexpectedly last night, so I'll take a rain check."

  I was not going to be unhappy about leaving posthaste. I'd never met a wolf up close and personal before, and I wasn't sure I wanted to ever again. I was impressed that Tom and Wolfie seemed to understand each other. As to whether this was a good thing or a bad thing, I'd have to give that some more thought.

  "I can't wait to meet your mystery man sometime," Tom said as we stepped around Wolfie and stacked my boxes in the back room.

  "He wants to meet you, too," I said, eyeing the wolf cautiously and hoping he wouldn't suddenly decide that he didn't like my scent or my smile or my whatever.

  "I'll unpack tomorrow." My hand was on the doorknob. I was anxious to leave.

  "Wait a minute," Tom called. He pulled out a chair and motioned me over to a table where the Burns artifacts were displayed next to a high-power microscope. Nervously, I inched over and sat down. Tom sat beside me. Wolfie, the stuffed dog still between his teeth, curled up on top of my feet.

  "See, DD. He likes you."

  Wolfie was heavy and my feet were quickly losing thei
r feeling. I took a deep breath and tried to remain motionless. I was afraid to ask Tom what else the wolf liked to eat.

  "Go ahead, pat him on the head."

  "Tom, don't push it."

  "Are you regretting your decision to move in?"

  "Let's just say I'm having second thoughts. Wolfie's a lot to get used to. By the way, he needs a bath. He smells like the great outdoors."

  "Yeah, he gets a bit gamey. Meant to do that before you got here, but time got away from me. He likes his bath, you know.

  "Now about Robbie Burns et al." He lifted one of the pieces of glass and studied it with a magnifier. "I've completed all the research I can, DD, and like I told you on the phone, to me, the poem and the glass both appear genuine."

  "Wow. That's absolutely incredible. I don't even know what to say. So La Dragon didn't get taken?"

  "I'd say these artifacts are real treasures. I think you and your Auntie should put them in a safe deposit box and take out an insurance policy. I can't keep them here, even with Wolfie guarding the place. I don't want to be responsible for a treasure like this getting stolen or destroyed."

  He carefully placed all the glass pieces into the bag and turned everything over to me along with the letter. "These truly are a marvel," he said. "Tell your Auntie it was an honor to see them."

  I promised I would and put them gingerly into my briefcase.

  "Do you think you could tell Wolfie to move? My feet are numb from his weight, and I've got to get going."

  Tom stood up and called, "C'mon boy, treat" Wolfie got up immediately and followed Tom behind a curtain into his tiny kitchenette.

  I stood up and stretched, finally relaxing with Wolfie out of sight. I was feeling a little lightheaded, looking forward to seeing Scotty.