Diamonds and Cole: Cole Sage Mystery #1

by Micheal Maxwell

  Cole decided on a low-tech approach to finding Richard Anderson. Taking a phone book from the dresser drawer in his motel room, he turned to A. There, he saw Richard and Eloise, 2118 Meadowview Court. He jotted the address on a motel notepad and fell back across the bed, falling into a deep, exhausted sleep. The next morning he rolled into a bright shaft of light that leaked through the curtains, and awoke with a start. The cheap plastic clock on the nightstand read 9:30.

  At a quarter past eleven Cole pulled up in front of the Anderson house on Meadowview. Located in an upscale development of custom homes, the lawn showed the crisp edge of being freshly cut, and the bushes were all newly trimmed, but the house nearly shouted “no one home.”

  Several minutes passed after the doorbell rang out “The Entertainer” before Cole heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The large oak and stained glass door opened to reveal a large, fleshy woman. She wore a white sleeveless knit top stretched over the large stomach that protruded far past her breasts. The black shorts that stopped just above her dimpled knees weren’t the best choice to achieve the “black is always slimming” look. Her large legs ended in bare feet and toes stained from freshly mowed grass.

  “Sorry I took so long. I cain’t hear the door bell in the backyard. I needed to rake. The gardener left grass all over the lawn. What a mess.” Her soft voice betrayed a Southern lilt.

  “Mrs. Anderson?” Cole asked.

  “Yes, what can I do for you?”

  “I would like to speak with your husband if I may. Don’t worry, I’m not a salesman.” Cole turned on his best smile.

  “He’s not here.” She said unfazed by the smile. Her tone turned cautious and unfriendly.

  “Oh, okay.” Cole scrambled for an approach.”Will he be back soon? A friend said he might be interested in buying my wife’s car. Original ‘65 Mustang; it’s a cutie, belonged to her mom. The original little ol’ lady who only drove it to church and the grocery store. My wife wants one of those big ol’ SUV things.” Cole pointed to his own vehicle.” That’s a rental, mine’s in the shop.”

  “Richard is uh, he uh...” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “He’s gone, isn’t he,” Cole said softly. “Look, I’m not here about a car. Can we chat a minute?”

  “Are you a policeman?”

  “No, just trying to get some information before somebody gets in trouble.”

  Eloise Anderson lifted her chin and looked deeply into Cole’s eyes. “You’re not a con are you.” She offered this as a statement more than a question.

  “No, I work for the The Sentinel in Chicago.” Cole knew the truth would be his best bet.

  “Guess you better come in out of the sun.” She opened the door wide and stepped back. “I’ll get us some lemonade. We can talk in here.” She pointed to a large, high-beamed room.

  The room, as well as its furnishings, was very large. Heavy, overstuffed leather sofas lined the walls and a floor-to-ceiling fireplace dominated the far corner. The wall closest to Cole contained a gallery of several dozen photographs of a much younger, much thinner Eloise and a tall, handsome man he took for Richard Anderson. In the pictures, they stood with presidents, politicians, musicians, movie stars and televangelists—the rich and powerful smiling, arm-in-arm with the handsome young couple. On a small shelf at the center of the gallery were two Grammy awards and three Dove awards for gospel music. To the left of the shelf were three gold record awards, all presented to Eloise Anderson.

  A Steinway grand piano stood majestically to the left of the fireplace. Next to a bench stood a small mahogany table covered with what looked to Cole to be sheet music, blank sheet music.

  In the center of the ceiling, suspended from a dark walnut stained beam, hung a projection TV. The room was everything Cole always dreamed of; dark, masculine, and comfortable. He traced the beams with his eyes, trying to figure out where they hid the screen for the TV, when he heard footsteps behind him.

  “Here we go, Mister...” Eloise looked at Cole quizzically.

  “I’m sorry, forgot to properly introduce myself. Sage, Cole Sage. What a great room! I have always wanted a room like this.”

  “Make me an offer,” she said softly, almost to herself.

  “Your piano is magnificent. Are you doing some writing?” Cole grasped for something to put Eloise at ease. “I saw your awards. Wow, you’re famous!” He felt like a babbling idiot.

  “A long time ago.” She took a deep breath and seemed to straighten herself. “Mr. Sage, my husband is gone. Three days ago I came home to find his clothes missing and a letter on the kitchen table. He won’t be coming back.”

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with you, does it?”

  “No,” Eloise said softly.

  “Is he in trouble?”

  “He will be if they find him. Do you know about him? His history?”

  “Until last night I never heard of him. Look, I’m not after him or looking to turn him in. Quite frankly, I don’t care what he’s done. I mainly want to find out his connection to a man named Allen Christopher. Does your husband’s disappearing act have anything to do with him?” Cole could see her need to talk.

  “In the letter, Richard said he made the score of a lifetime and he loved me but he could never see me again. I’m not sure exactly what he did, but he said he paid off the house and left a key to a safety deposit box. He said I would be set for the rest of my life.” Tears began to stream down her cheeks. “He is my life. I would rather visit him in prison than never see him again.”

  Cole took a long drink of his lemonade. “Did you see the diamonds Mrs. Anderson?”

  The large woman shifted her weight on the couch. She stared at the fireplace and didn’t speak for nearly a minute. “Richard always thought I knew nothing of his business. He said if I didn’t know anything I would never get in trouble. Then he would tell me little bits and pieces here and there. He just can’t keep a secret. Did you know he used to be a preacher? The devil got a hold of his heart, though. He’s not like other men; lust of the flesh isn’t his problem. He has always been faithful to me. Richard fell for another love, the root of all evil. He promised me he would give me the world. When he found he couldn’t do it the right way, he did it any way he could. I never wanted to be rich.” She began to sob softly.

  Cole felt deeply saddened as he watched her thick shoulders move up and down. Her pudgy fingers covered her face. She wiped her eyes and let out a shuddering sigh. “He told me the diamonds were legitimate. ‘Bought and paid for’, were his exact words. Were they stolen?”

  “I don’t think they were stolen. At least,” Cole paused, “until he took off with them.”

  “Who do they belong to?”

  “I have a feeling that Allen Christopher may have financed this scheme somehow.”

  “Why are you involved in this?” For the first time Cole sensed her suspicion. “Who is this Christopher guy to you anyway?”

  “He has hurt someone I love almost as much as Richard has hurt you. Look, I need to connect Christopher to these diamonds somehow. Not any of this is my business. I am very sorry your husband is gone. I know how it must hurt, really I do. A long time ago I loved someone very much, but I let her get away.” Cole took a deep breath. “She has a horrible disease killing her inch by inch. Christopher is her husband. He got her to sign a power of attorney order playing on her weakness. She really didn’t know what she signed. He put her in the filthiest rest home you could imagine, to die. She asked me to protect her daughter’s inheritance. Christopher is trying to get it.

  “With the power of attorney, when Ellie dies, he gets everything. He can rewrite their will, change documents, bank accounts, whatever he wants. All she wants is to go knowing her daughter will get her inheritance handed down from her parents. I have got to do this for her. I have failed her in so many ways. Do you understand?” Cole felt this thread to the diamonds slipping away.

  “I don’t see how Richard fits in.”

  �
��Did he say how the diamonds were paid for? Please think, is there anything you remember? Whether you understand it or not. Anything?”

  “One night Richard told me that a real estate agent helped him buy these diamonds. He would front the money; Richard planned to buy cars, boats, motorcycles, anything of value with the diamonds. He said the beauty of it is that the diamonds were bought and paid for. He said there is a huge mark up in their value, so when they bought the stuff with them they made even bigger profits when they resold it.”

  “So why did he leave, do you think?”

  “Because he is Richard. He put one over on somebody.”

  “Like what? What’s his game? How could he con Christopher?”

  “Leverage.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Using other people’s money. Richard has never learned that if you borrow you must pay back. He must have built up the purchases then used the track record to get a line of credit. He makes several purchases, pays on time, then lowers the boom.”

  “He has done this before?”

  “Oh, Mr. Sage, my Richard has spent many years behind bars trying to find the perfect ways to leverage other people’s money to be able to get someone else’s money.”

  “So, you think he bought the last bunch of stones on credit, then took off?”

  “Probably with your Mr. Christopher’s credit.”

  “Did you ever see any diamonds?”

  Eloise smiled.”Richard has a good heart, really. But down deep he is a show off, like a little kid. One night, he spread diamonds out on a black velvet skirt of mine. ‘Know how much these are worth?’” she said in a deep throaty imitation of her husband, “‘A million dollars!’”

  “So how much of a mark-up is there? Three, four-hundred percent?”

  “Six,” Eloise said flatly.

  “So, if Richard takes off with a million in stones, Christopher is left holding the tab for, what? A hundred and...?”

  “One hundred and sixty something thousand. Math’s always been my strong suit.” She smiled in a girlish way.

  “How long did he do all this diamond swapping?”

  “About six months, maybe a year. Like I said, I only get bits and pieces of Richard’s business.”

  “So he paid for your house out of the profits from the ones that were paid for. Slick.”

  “He said we could take this business anywhere. But I like it here, it’s home. Our boys are here. I didn’t want to leave.”

  “Will you play me something?”

  “What?”

  “On the piano, something you wrote. It isn’t every day I meet a famous songwriter.”

  She stared at Cole for a long moment. He looked away as she struggled to lift her weight from the low-slung couch. As she crossed the room, she turned and gave Cole a puzzled look, then smiled. The heavily padded leather bench creaked softly as she seated herself. Flipping through the notes and sheet music on the table next to the piano, she chose a doublewide sheet and placed it on the piano. The music that rose from the Steinway, as she began to play, was so light and airy it seemed to float around the room. Such a sentimental melody, and yet somehow familiar, like something from a 1940’s musical. As she played, Eloise Anderson’s spirit rose with the notes and, as she closed her eyes, Cole quietly slipped out the front door.