by Cassie Page
Olivia stared at him until she understood. “Oh, you mean you’re going to come clean with her. Yes, that is a good idea.”
“But I can’t tell her what I hid in the plant. No one must ever know I have this stone and that the sheik wants it. That is how some collectors are. They are too afraid of thieves coming after their treasures or threatening their lives, so they keep their best pieces a secret.”
He seemed to relax a bit now that his own secret was out.
“But Xavier, why didn’t you just put it in a safe deposit box in the bank?”
“Jes. Why didn’t I think of that instead of my stupid plan? But I didn’t. Then when you said you gave it away I thought my life was over. It was the worst moment in my life, Olivia. The absolute worst.”
Olivia could only imagine her friend’s shock when he realized that he had probably lost a priceless gem. Now Olivia understood it all, except for one last detail. “How did you ever find Bonnie and Ron?”
“I was a mad man. I did not eat. I did not sleep. I din’t answer my phone.”
“How well I know. The whole town was looking for you.”
“Nothing mattered to me except getting the De Beers back. You said he was an electrician. I was on the Internet looking for every electrical shop in the Bay Area. I finally found them. Bonnie and Ron. It cost me $2,500 to buy it back.”
Olivia stared at him, her mouth hanging open. “Twenty-five hundred? Bonnie is some negotiator, but it was a bargain. But one last thing. Where is the De Beers now?”
“You promise not to tell anyone?”
She stuck out her hand. “I pinky promise.”
Explaining what she meant got too complicated, so Xavier just opened a storage closet in his office. “I only keep junk in here. So no one comes in here, not my staff, not Martin. No one. It is the perfect place.”
He pulled out a plastic trash bag. He unknotted it and Olivia took one sniff and recoiled.
“I don’t believe it.”
“Jes, you can thank Lola for giving me the perfect hiding spot. Nobody’s going to look in this. It’s what I scoop out from her litter box.”
Olivia howled. “Don’t tell the sheik where it’s been or you’ll lose your deal.”
Her curiosity was killing her. “Xavier, can I see it?”
He swallowed hard, closed his eyes, then said, “Okay, but you must promise . . .”
“I will tell NO one.”
Xavier nodded, then reached into a desk drawer for his jeweler’s tongs. He dug around until he came up with a small plastic freezer bag. He shook it loose of cat litter, then set it on a magazine in his inbox. Inside was a small package wrapped in Xavier’s letterhead and, like a Russian doll, inside that was a black velvet box. Olivia held her breath as Xavier opened it. He removed the jewel from its satin cushion and placed it in her palm.
Her heart all but stopped. There it was. The De Beers.
The history of this huge, rare yellow stone was palpable as she felt its heft and coolness in her palm, the incredible brilliance magnifying every beam of light in the room. More than two hundred carats. When it was found, it was the seventh largest diamond in the world, now ranked at twenty-sixth. She imagined its beginnings deep in the earth’s crust, then working its way up to the farm of two humble Afrikaner brothers over a hundred years ago. From there, the stone found its way to the Maharaja’s collection to be set in the Patiala necklace surrounded by 2,700 impeccable smaller stones, the gem world’s greatest creation. The necklace then disappeared when it was caught up in India’s struggle for independence, mysteriously reappearing and possibly being sold at auction, depending on whose story you believed. Once again, it slipped underground, eventually hiding in Lola’s excrement before resting in Olivia's hand.
Olivia did not say a word, but simply drank in its beauty and power. Finally, she offered it back to Xavier and watched him rebury it.
“After all this, my friend, I think you need a drink. I’m going to meet Matt and the others at Hugo’s for dinner. Want to come?”
Chapter Thirty-Six: Hello Kitty
Hugo’s bustled with servers setting up tables and adjusting chairs in the dining room, preparing for the dinner crowd that would start trickling in at five-thirty. Matt, Cody, Tuesday and Mrs. Harmon had staked out a claim at the far end of the bar. Olivia and Xavier headed for their friends, squeezing past a few customers nursing drinks.
Xavier caught sight of Mrs. Harmon and whispered in Olivia’s ear. “You did not tell me she would be here. We have not scrubbed things up yet.”
“I didn’t know she was coming,” Olivia whispered back, smiling as she waved to her friends. “Say hello but don’t kiss her on the cheek.”
Mrs. Harmon gave Xavier a chilly greeting and explained her presence. “Matt saw me leaving Paymoor’s and insisted I join you.”
“And I’m so glad he did, Elise,” Tuesday enthused with her arm around her shoulder. “We can catch up.”
Olivia noticed the half empty glass of white wine at Mrs. Harmon’s elbow, no doubt accounting for the glee with which she leaned into Tuesday and returned the affection.
Mrs. Harmon asked Matt why he hadn’t invited Taz. She was equally attached to both sister and brother, having been friends with them before Olivia’s time.
“I would have, but she’s got some new guy she’s flying out to see. Or maybe he’s coming here. I can’t keep track.”
Olivia said, “You told me they’re going to South America.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s it,” he said. “She’s flying down to Rio.”
Mrs. Harmon, apparently the only one to get the pun, waved her arms in an impromptu samba.
After the lamentations on Tazmania’s absence, the hellos and air kisses that welcomed Xavier to the party, the search for an extra stool for him, Matt motioned Olivia over and pointed to a glass of Pinot Noir.
“Thanks, but I’m not ready for wine just yet.” She called to the bartender, a new guy Olivia had not seen before, and asked for sparkling water and a glass of Malbec for the jeweler.
“Coming up,” the young man said with half an eye on the TV at the end of the bar streaming the latest basketball scores.
“Put your money away,” Olivia said when Xavier reached for his wallet.
The sports update was interrupted by a news bulletin. The anchor promised to switch to live news from the Darling Valley Police Department in a few minutes.
They’d picked Hugo’s to watch the press conference because of its 55-inch screen.
The bartender grumbled, “Who cares about the one percent killing each other off. It’s the playoffs, man.” He uncapped a bottle of water and poured it into a tumbler for Olivia.
Olivia scowled at him, then whispered to Matt, “That press conference should be your gig.”
Matt had an elbow on the bar, his back to the TV. “Yeah, but I’m not officially on the case, remember? I just happened to be at the hospital this afternoon on a routine call when we just happened to see the earring that allowed us to nab Payne. By the way, I told Johnson to change his jacket for the cameras. He dresses like we don’t get paid enough.”
Olivia settled on to a stool. “You don’t. Can we expect anything new for the cameras?”
“I don’t think so.” Matt was letting his Pinot sit. It was still early for him to imbibe, even his beloved red wine. He was not a daily drinker; Olivia had seen him order a glass just to be sociable and then ignore it for the rest of the evening.
He reminded her, “You set up the arrest. You know as much as we do. Except for the coroner’s report.”
“And motive,” she reminded him. “And whether his father was involved. Or anyone else.”
“Yeah,” Matt agreed. “A lot more questions.”
Cody put his soft drink on the bar. He was still a little loopy from pain pills and had refused Matt’s offer of a beer. He shushed everyone. “It’s starting.”
Ignoring Matt’s sartorial advice, Johnson stood in front of the police station in hi
s tried and true sagging, shiny, blue serge sport coat. Inside the glass lobby behind him, his staff pressed their faces to the six-foot windows to photo bomb the cameras.
Johnson checked his electronic notepad, then stuck it back in his pocket. Clearly ill at ease, he stood at attention with his hands crossed in front of him, as rigid as if he were in the secret service guarding the president.
The news that a member of one of Darling Valley’s wealthiest families was accused of murder drew an impressive turnout, with some familiar faces from national news outlets among the local reporters. Johnson began his prepared speech.
“I want to assure the residents of Darling Valley that we have in custody the killer of Jocelyn Payne. Dr. Arthur Payne, the deceased’s stepson, will be arraigned in the morning on charges of first-degree murder, breaking and entering, felony trespass and armed robbery. Other charges may also be filed. We are also questioning Dr. Payne’s father in connection with this case, though we have not filed any charges against him at this time. He is not under arrest, but still hospitalized for a recent heart attack. Because we have not completed our investigation, we cannot release certain details to the public. However, I will take your questions and answer them as best I can.”
An overzealous reporter pushed his way to the front of the pack and jammed a long, furry microphone into Johnson’s face. “Can you tell us the evidence you have against JR Payne?”
Johnson leaned into the bank of microphones. “The suspect was found with the cause of death.”
Reporters pressured him to reveal the cause of death. “Next question,” was all he said.
From the back of the crowd came another query. “Sir, is Olivia Granville still a suspect in the case?”
Olivia knew the answer, but nevertheless, she breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Johnson’s reply.
The detective squinted into the cameras and said curtly, “No, she isn’t. A search of Dr. Payne’s computer has led to evidence that completely exonerates her.”
Despite being pressured to reveal the evidence, he again refused to amplify his answer.
“What about Detective Richards, sir. Is he a suspect?”
“There is nothing to suggest Detective Richards was connected to the deceased, except in an official capacity.”
“Can you explain what those official duties were?”
“As you know, from time to time the Darling Valley Police Department interacts with members of our community as it pertains to law enforcement. There was a call about a suspected burglar at her address a while back to which we responded. I believe Detective Richards may have been part of the response team. That would have been the extent of his involvement with the deceased.”
A reporter from a network evening news program shoved her phone into Johnson’s face, photographing and recording him at the same time. “Sir, I saw you pick up some items in front of the hospital this afternoon. Care to elaborate what they were?”
Johnson said, “No comment,” thanked them and walked back inside the station. The press folded their tents and began filing their stories. The bartender perked up when the newscast returned to sports.
Mrs. Harmon slammed her hand on the bar. “Could he be more unhelpful? What do we know now that we didn’t know before? The public has a right to know who is preying on us and why. Less than useless, that’s what that press conference was.”
Matt defended his partner. “Johnson can’t spill the beans on the case, Mrs. Harmon. You know that. If he gave away all the evidence, the defense attorney could have a field day and might get Payne off before there is even a trial. But we have our own sleuth who provided the clues that led to the arrest of JR Payne. Maybe she’ll tell us how she solved the case.”
The spotlight took Olivia by surprise. She sipped her wine for a little liquid courage and returned her glass to the bar before addressing the eager faces of her friends.
“First of all, Matt gives me too much credit. I had a pretty strong motivation to find out who killed Jocelyn when I became a suspect and Awful Arlo kept trying to pin the murder on me. I couldn’t figure out why I was on his radar, or why Matt was, for that matter. We didn’t know him.”
Cody called out, “You put that guy out of business yet, Matt?”
Matt raised his glass. “I’d love to, but the first amendment and all that.”
Olivia took advantage of the interruption to salute Cody. “Our intrepid amateur detective here gave me some important tips. I don’t want to name names, but Cody discovered that the deceased had made a few enemies, which led me to investigate possible suspects. Google helped me figure out how Jocelyn died.”
She went on to describe neostigmine, a drug often used by anesthesiologists.
“I’d heard so much about the medical research JR Payne was conducting that could save lives all over the world. He’s one of several scientists on the hunt for a safe, cheap, easy-to-administer treatment for snakebites, which occur in huge numbers, mostly in the wild, far from medical treatment that needs to be administered swiftly to save the patient.”
Tuesday blurted out, “Hmm, tell me again what we found in your tea leaves, Ollie Mollie?”
Olivia acknowledged her with a happy nod.
“You can imagine the impact a successful treatment would have on countries with large rural populations. Hundreds of thousands of victims are recorded each year. And many more victims living in remote villages are not counted. A staggering number of them succumb, either from the venom or the treatment, which can be very toxic.”
From the looks of repugnance on the faces of her audience, Olivia realized she was sounding like a science report. Slow it down, she told herself. TMI. Outside of Garden of Eden stories, most people shied away from the subject of reptiles. But she had them leaning in to learn why they needed to know all this.
“It was JR Payne’s approach that made his treatment successful. He put neostigmine and some other drugs into an atomizer. The kind you use when you have allergies. This made emergency treatment cost effective and something people could carry in their pockets and administer themselves even if they were miles away from a medical facility. Other researchers had come upon this regimen, but JR had devised a drug cocktail that was far superior to anything else being developed. I didn’t know what to do with this information until I saw a side note about the treatment. An overdose could cause a heart attack. And that’s what the coroner claimed was the cause of death. A heart attack. But since the drug wouldn’t be detectable during Jocelyn Payne’s autopsy, I didn’t know how to prove he did it.”
Her friends were once again rapt, so she delved into the next lucky break. “Then the most important clue literally fell at my feet.”
She described bumping into Brooks Baker outside of The Salted Caramel, crossing her fingers when she called him a friend.
“One of us was clumsy. I’m nailing him because he’s back in LA and can’t defend himself,” she said, getting a laugh. “I accidentally knocked his briefcase out of his hand. The lock popped open and scattered the contents. I was helping him scoop up papers and the like from the sidewalk when he mentioned that the briefcase belonged to JR. They had identical cases and Brooks had picked it up by mistake and was on his way to return it to the rightful owner.”
Olivia had everyone’s puzzled attention. “Little did Brooks realize that the accident exposed his friend JR as the killer. The key piece of evidence was lodged in the bottom of the case, where clearly JR hadn’t seen it or he would have disposed of it. I recognized it as soon as I saw it. The opal and diamond earring that matched the one found on Jocelyn.”
That got her a round of applause. The folks at the other end of the bar thought it was her birthday and toasted her.
“Not only that, he had an atomizer in the case. Probably the one he used to kill Jocelyn. But I still had a problem. Brooks walked off with the case and the evidence. If I reported it to the police, Payne might discover it on his own and dispose of it before a search warrant was issu
ed, or his lawyers could fight a warrant or something. The police had to find the briefcase on their own, in his possession, discover the earring and atomizer, then nail him, but how? There I walked into a wall. I had no idea how to make that happen.”
She paused to sip her water as her throat was getting parched from her long dissertation. Mrs. Harmon snapped, “Well, get on with it. Are you going to keep us hanging or do we have to get a crystal ball to find out what happened next?”
Olivia flashed on her conversation with Xavier about accepting her testy tenant as she was. Careful what you ask for, she told herself as she acknowledged Mrs. Harmon with a smile.
Cody interrupted with a leading question to keep the spotlight on Olivia, the one he had posed when she explained her plan to nab JR. “But couldn’t he have explained away the earring? She was his stepmother. She could have accidently dropped it in the case back at the house or something.”
Olivia smiled triumphantly. “Yeah, but that’s where we got him. Xavier told me that he had to do an inventory after the murder to see if anything had been stolen. Everything was accounted for except that second earring. The only place she would ever have worn it was the night she was killed at Xavier’s Gems. The police said it hadn’t been found on her body. When I saw it in the briefcase that Brooks dropped, I realized what had probably happened. On the night of the murder, there was a lot of jewelry scattered around. Jocelyn was wearing some of it and some of it seemed to have just been dumped on the floor. The earring somehow got lodged in his briefcase. Probably when he opened it to retrieve the atomizer with which he killed her. We had to nab him with the briefcase before he found the earring and disposed of it. He couldn’t have explained it away because it belonged to Xavier.”
Xavier raised his glass to her. “So case closed. Jes?”
Olivia said, “Not quite. I was still stuck with those incriminating texts on my phone and the photos circulating on TV. I wasn’t off the hook yet.”
She tried to make the next piece of the puzzle short and sweet. How Cody had assured her that, though he didn’t know the exact technology, an outsider could plant texts on her phone. Hunting down that hat trick became an obsession.