Alex Ames - Calendar Moonstone 01 - A Brilliant Plan

by Alex Ames

  “OK, that is fine with us, we didn’t want to put you in a spot,” I soothed him. Jesus, are there any honest people left in this world? “Go on, Faulkner called…”

  “Right, Paul explained that his gallery wasn’t going well and that they needed to enhance a certain situation in order to get some insurance money. All I had to do was stage a believable break-in to the safe room of the gallery. Altward himself would be my contact.”

  “And you agreed?”

  “Sure. After the conditions were settled, I drove down to San Diego to the gallery. I met Mr. Altward in the backyard and he explained the situation to me. I was to stage a break in. The safe had been opened earlier in the night; I had to remove the traces of that, too.”

  “So it would appear that your break in was the first opening of the safe that night?” Mundy concluded.

  “Exactly. Altward and I went up to the back-office; it was in the dead of the night. There were no cars and no people around. Altward let us in and I did my magic.”

  “Hard to do?”

  “Moderately, if you know the code and the protocols. I opened the door and reset the logs. It took about 30 minutes in all. Add ten more minutes to window-dress it.”

  “Like?”

  “The ripped out control panel, the crossed wires, stuff like that. You know, to confuse the cats from CSI and my old colleagues.”

  “What did you do in the safe room?” Mundy asked.

  “I never entered the safe room. I wrapped up my laptop and cables and Altward let me out. Drove back to Mom’s.”

  “You didn’t even take one glimpse?” Mundy asked.

  “No, the door opened a crack and Altward stopped the door right then. No light in the safe room anyway. No, Sir, didn’t see anything, not the dead night watchman… ” It must have been ages since someone had called Mundy ‘Sir.’

  “Did that come as a shock to you the next morning?”

  “You can say that. Had a late breakfast of Mom’s herrings and glanced up to see the local news channel and bang, there was the Altward Gallery and the police and the coroner’s van.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “Switched off the TV and started planning my exit.”

  “That sounds very prepared.”

  Hans shrugged. “I could see it coming. Did some minor crooked things before and had already prepared some getaways in case of cases. Like new ID, access to fast money… ”

  “So you stole the money from the accounts of your former co-workers, closed your apartment and took a ride.”

  “That’s about it. Took me about two days to settle everything, a little risky, but it worked out.” He grimaced. “Or so I thought.”

  I reassured him, “Don’t worry, I played unfair in order to find you. The authorities will take longer. But you better start moving again, Polter.”

  After we left Hans Polter’s hideout, Mundy said, “I don’t think we will meet the esteemed Mr. P. at this address again.”

  “Me neither,” I supported his opinion.

  “Don’t you think we should contact the authorities?”

  The thought had never crossed my mind, probably because thieves honor prohibited it. But now that Mundy mentioned it. I bit my lip. “Think so?”

  “Come on, he is a crook. I wonder how his former co-workers will manage with their savings looted, the name of the company discredited… ”

  “Can we do it anonymously? Let’s give him until tomorrow, and then you send an e-mail to the police. OK?” Close to home.

  Mundy nodded and looked unhappy.

  “Maybe you can spring a story out of it? ‘A meeting with my murderer!’”

  Mundy’s look stopped me from evolving further.

  Chapter 38

  IF IN DOUBT, meditate. I spent another whole day working out, testing my limits, building my confidence. In the evening, I spread a blanket in front of my pool, lit some scented candles and relaxed. Concentrated on my inner self, tuned myself in to the deeper layers of my consciousness, tried to block the obvious and unblock the hidden thoughts that went around in my brain. Breathing in and out, breathing, easily, listening to random sounds, thinking random thoughts, forming random theories. About the case. About the jewels. About my role in this case. The cloud, the spirit, the matter, the space in between.

  I went to bed around two o’clock that night. Woke up at nine in the morning. There was a plan. Kind of.

  I spent the next days at the shop. Immersing myself under as much work as possible to get my mind off the details of the case and to let the thoughts and creativity flow. Mundy called and I gave him some homework to do regarding the case. He agreed willingly. The evening news reported on an escalation in the Mexico City political situation, more and more people were jumping on the colonialisation/exploitation bandwagon. There was even a small demonstration in front of the History Museum. It was rumored that Director Vasolar was going to be forced to resign soon, meaning that he was close to being fired.

  Ron called Thursday noon. “I am under pressure.”

  He didn’t sound his usual flippant self so I just gave him a careful “Yee-es?”

  “To retrieve the Maximilian Jewels. And to find the killer.”

  “Sounds to me like the priority flipped,” I stated dryly.

  “That’s why I said there’s pressure. The pressure I am talking about comes from very high up, from the State Department all the way down to Detective Ronald William Closeky.”

  “Is your name really Ronald?”

  “Not any more, if we don’t crack this case very soon, my boss will make me a Rhonda.” A very reassuring ‘We.’

  “Is there a reward for returning the stones?” I asked.

  “Yes, actually there is, our friend Fowler Wynn saw to that. But not for officers of the law or sworn-in consultants. Jesus, you are preoccupied with money like no other woman I know,” he exclaimed.

  “I am a business woman, remember? And I never was formally deputized or engaged. How much time do we have?”

  “I hoped to drop by tonight and you would tell me.”

  I looked at my work desk, checked the results with my eyeglass. Removed my eyeglass. “OK, Ron. I am ready whenever you are.”

  “You mean it, you have a plan?” Poor puppy, he sounded so hopeful.

  “Something like that. Can we meet in San Diego? My parent’s home.”

  He quickly agreed, what choice did he have?

  I had asked Ron for Fowler Wynn’s number and dialed it next.

  “Wynn?” his mock British accent clipped into the phone.

  “Moonstone,” I didn’t intend to mimic him, but it came out accidentally.

  After a few moments of icy awkward silence, his manners took over and he asked, “What can I do for you?”

  “I want to crack the case tomorrow. Would you consider joining me tonight in San Diego?”

  He wasn’t sure whether I was pulling his leg or not. “Sounds intriguing. I bet you will tell me what’s going on when I arrive and not a minute before?”

  “Yes. We will meet at my parent’s house tonight around eight. Please, one more thing. Please don’t tell anyone. With the media circus already surrounding this affair, my plan wouldn’t work out in the open.”

  “See you then.” After a polite second, he added, “Thanks for inviting me.” Little victories.

  Next call, House of the Moon. Mom took the call, was delighted to see me again so soon.

  I chewed my lip. Several loose ends in my mind were dangling. The drive to San Diego was uneventful, far from the hell ride three weeks ago.

  We had the house to ourselves, Mom and Dad had gone out, doing good things, their daughter staying home, doing bad things. Fowler arrived first. He rang. I opened the door, invited him in and gave him refreshments. We felt uncomfortable with each other so we didn’t talk at all.

  Ron and Juanita arrived a few minutes late, apologized and Ron pecked me an innocent kiss on the cheek.

  Greetings all arou
nd.

  We sat around the big kitchen table, three pairs of eyes on me.

  “OK, we are here and hooked. Shoot,” Ron said.

  I opened one of the table’s drawers, took out a black velvet jewelry pouch and a large brown envelope. I put both on the table and shut the drawer slowly to emphasize the activity.

  I took a deep breath. Showtime. “This may come as a surprise to you all. It was I who stole the Maximilian Jewels.”

  Chapter 39

  MY WORDS ECHOED silently in the big kitchen.

  Fowler, Juanita and Ron all had their mouths open—staring at me. The only sounds you could hear were the kitchen appliances making their mysterious noises and the tree creaking in its rooting.

  Ron started to say something. I could almost hear Fowlers insurance detective brain singing ‘I knew it, I knew it, I have her, I have her… ’ Juanita probably knew that there had to be a punch line somewhere.

  I raised my hand. “You never heard that confession. I acted alone. Tomorrow I will contact Andrew Altward and sell the jewels back to him.”

  All three were still looking at me, not saying a word. I wondered if Ron was already Mirandizing me in his mind.

  Fowler found words first. He spoke very carefully as if any wrong word would blow like a landmine. “And you think that Altward will buy them back from you?”

  “I will make him a very attractive offer. He can haggle a little but I don’t plan to ask for more than two million dollars. Consider it a ransom, a commission, whatever,” I shrugged.

  Again the calculated words of Fowler, “And Mr. Altward can then resell them to one of his ‘collectors’ for around ten million. Maybe even more, now that we all found out that the Maximilian Jewels are the latest national treasure of Mexico. A sensible price.” He treated me like a little child, still not knowing where this was leading. “However, it remains a mystery why you trade in ten million from ‘The Japanese’ against two million from Mr. Altward.” I just shrugged.

  A minute more of silence.

  Fowler again. “And how would you convince Mr. Altward that you are in possession of ‘The Max?’”

  Now for the dramatic part. I slowly took the envelope, opened it and put a glossy, high quality studio photo of the necklace I had seen around Phoebe’s neck onto the middle of the table.

  Fowler was still not convinced. “You really think Altward will deal with you on the basis of a single photo you cooked up with a Photoshop computer program? Come on, girl.”

  “So far, no one ever has seen a photo of any of the pieces. Looks convincing to me,” Juanita threw in.

  Ron wagged his head. “I have to agree with Fowler. The real thing would be much more convincing.” He turned his eyes at the small velvet pouch and then toward me.

  I unknotted the ties, opened the pouch carefully. With two fingers, I slowly pulled out the Maximilian necklace. The very same necklace that I had seen around Phoebe’s neck and on the expertise drawings. I smoothed the little pouch on the table and carefully laid the necklace on it. The gold shone dully and the sparks were flying from the precious stones. Magnificent. Spectacular. “If you can’t be convinced by the photo alone, here is the necklace. Please do not touch.”

  Fowler held his breath, studied it carefully, not touching it.

  Juanita had her nose close to it, too, checking it out. I could see the female longing for beautiful jewelry in her eyes. Ron was the usual slob and tried to touch it. I quickly hit his fingers and he pulled back.

  Slowly, it sank in.

  “Bloody brilliant,” Ron muttered suddenly and started to smile. “This is bloody brilliant.” He began laughing for two minutes. He took my hand. “You are a gem, Calendar Moonstone.” Laughing again. “For a minute, you almost had me.” Wiping the tears from his eyes, he turned serious again, turned to Fowler. “You got it, yet?”

  Fowler gave him a bland look, clearly not. Juanita hadn’t figured it out either.

  “We searched Altward’s homes and the gallery, didn’t find the gems,” Ron looked at Fowler for confirmation and Fowler nodded.

  Ron continued. “So, assuming that Altward has the Maximilian Jewels in his possession, what would he do if somebody showed him a piece of his carefully guarded secret?”

  Fowler looked at Ron, then at me. “Hang on; Calendar just confessed that she stole the Maximilian Jewels. Why bring Altward in again? He didn’t do it, it was her!”

  Ron started again, like explaining it to a child. “Assume that you, Fowler Wynn, stole the Maximilian Jewels and you hid them well. Calendar shows you the photo of one of your pieces that you thought was in your possession. What would you do?”

  “I would immediately check to make sure they are still in their hiding place,” Fowler said, slowing down as he spoke. Looking at me, the photo and me again.

  “Exactly,” I helped him. “All we will do after I meet with Altward is follow him around San Diego. He should lead us to the Maximilian Set.”

  Ron looked at me. “Would the David Copperfield of the gem trade tell us how the trick works?”

  “I knew there had to be a punch line to this,” Juanita added.

  I winked at her. “There is, of course. To make the plan work I had to produce some bait. Since I am one of the few living people who, in recent times, have even laid eyes on an original piece from the Maximilian Set, I took the liberty of creating a copy.”

  After Fowler made sure that I really had said ‘copy,’ he inched up to the necklace to examine it. “I didn’t want to mention it. But from first glance, it lacked the certain ‘magic’ that I had come to expect from the formidable description everyone was giving me, 333 gold?” He looked at me.

  “Yeah, that’s all that I could scrape together from my stock in that quantity. Don’t turn it over. It looks like a Mattel die-cast model from the other side.”

  Fowler then studied the facetted stones in the necklace more closely.

  “Fake?” Ron asked.

  “Au contraire! Most genuine,” Fowler corrected him with a slightly shocked expression.

  I nodded. “I had to make it look as close as possible to the original and the only way to do that was by using the best material available. The guy at the photo studio did some hue and saturation tricks with his equipment to buff the photo, you were right about the Photoshop trick.”

  Fowler gave a weak smile. He briefly looked at me and told me telepathically that he would catch up with me the next time. “Fine, I buy that.” He said.

  Ron nodded. “Now that you mention it, I may remember the necklace around Phoebe’s neck, which brings us to our other question. Who killed Wally Eastman? Who killed Phoebe Eastman?”

  I raised my hands. “Hey, I am already doing my best to trap the thief. You can do a third degree, or whatever, on him after we have him booked.”

  Ron looked at me. “OK, Calendar, you have the floor and you are running the show. How do we proceed tomorrow?”

  “You should arrange for a surveillance of Andrew Altward, of course. Some of your colleagues can trace him and we will follow at a safe distance.”

  “What else?”

  “There is one more thing that will be revealed tomorrow. Please instruct your people not to interact. Simply watch and tell us.”

  “You wouldn’t tell us about your other ace in the hole?”

  I shook my head, smiling.

  I said. “Just to be on the safe side, could you arrange for a surveillance of that UCLA history professor, Benito Salanca?”

  Ron raised an eyebrow. “Suspicious, aren’t we?”

  “Let’s not underestimate the university connection. Benito has gone in and out of that museum many times. Stephano Toledo could have been a good buddy of his.”

  Chapter 40

  I WOKE UP after a short night’s sleep, my alarm clock pinging away. Mom and Dad were having breakfast in the kitchen.

  “You were out late, Hon,” Mom said.

  “Yeah, my policeman took me out,” I lied easily.r />
  “Something developing?” Dad munched over his paper.

  “Difficult to say with Mundy still around and all.” I poured an herbal tea and dipped a croissant into it, regretted it immediately.

  “Will you be in for dinner tonight?”

  “Can’t say yet. Have to catch a double killer first.”

  We changed subjects after that.

  Ron picked me up around ten and gave me the go-ahead.

  “Our men are in position. You can start your little game,” he said. We drove toward the gallery and Ron let me out two blocks before we got there. “Break a leg,” he said and I walked the last few yards.

  I took a breather, checked myself briefly in the gallery door reflection and entered the lion’s den.

  The air was considerably cooler than outside, maybe it helped to sell the art. The assistant left another buyer for a second and walked over to me. His face didn’t register any recognition and I asked him to meet with Mr. Altward. He phoned up and Altward came walking down the stairs of the safe room a minute later.

  I stepped forward and held out my hand.

  “Good morning. My name is Calendar Moonstone. We met briefly a few weeks ago.”

  “Ah, yes, the jewel craftswoman. Still looking for my Montenhaute? Still holding my Calder!” His voice had a slightly annoyed undertone as if he didn’t take me serious as he looked me up and down.

  “Mr. Altward, I am calling on you because I have something that belongs to you.”

  “Yes?”

  “I am in possession of an item from the Maximilian Set. And I am willing to sell it back to you.”

  Altward looked left and right to check whether the other people in the room had noticed but I had spoken in a low tone. He moved me over to the opposite side of the room where we had more privacy. “The Maximilian Set? How interesting. I read everything in the paper about it.”