Purrfect Sparkle Read online

  The Pink Lady was finally going to be handed over to its rightful owner.

  21

  “Is this it—she—her?” asked the tall man. He wore spectacles and had a russet little beard going, and possessed a sort of bouncy, peppy energy, like a puppy. A gangling human puppy. Behind him, a second man had entered at a slower pace. He was short and stocky and had a more meditative air about him, his dark eyes flitting about the room, taking everything in. He had a thick mustache and a weathered sort of face, as if the elements had had their way with it from an early age, and he looked exactly how I imagined a Pinkerton detective would have looked traversing the wild West and collaring the scum of the earth.

  “Yes, that’s the Pink Lady,” said Chase as he handed the little box over to the tall guy.

  The insurance man opened the box and regarded the diamond in silent admiration. Sunlight hit the stone just so, and splashed a burst of iridescent sparkles on his face, and his mouth actually opened to release a small ‘Oh!’

  Turns out even tough and hardened insurance people aren’t immune to the allure of an exceptionally pretty pink diamond.

  The second man now spoke up for the first time. “A good afternoon, one and all,” he grunted as he went to stand next to the tall man and checked the stone. No little ‘Oh’ sound of admiration escaped this man’s lips, and in fact his hardened features didn’t even change expression at the sight of the Pink Lady. He clearly wasn’t impressed.

  “So you’re the expert?” asked Chase, who’d gotten up and walked around the table to greet the men.

  “I’m the expert,” said the tall man, who’d taken out a small loupe, and was studying the stone from up close and personal.

  “I’m Oscar Godish,” said the Pinkerton detective. “I work for Milestone Partners. And this is Dwayne Late, the world’s foremost diamond expert.” He’d hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, and I found myself wondering where he kept his revolver and his Pinkerton badge.

  “So what’s the verdict, Mr. Late?” asked Odelia as the tall man shook his head.

  “It’s an exquisite specimen,” he murmured reverently. “Flawless in spite of the unfortunate conditions to which she was subjected. Carried to Mexico and back in the sole of a shoe. Callous, Mrs. Poole. Extremely callous.”

  “Yes, it’s a small miracle the stone survived.”

  “Found in a pile of sand on the beach, mh? It doesn’t bear thinking what would have happened if that little girl hadn’t found her when she did.”

  “Probably washed away into the deep and never seen again,” said Mr. Godish.

  “So who is the rightful owner?” asked Chase.

  “Well, Sheikh Bab El Ehr, ruler of Khemed, was the original owner,” said the insurance man as he placed the stone back in the box, “but he died in 2015. His eldest son Bab El Ghat became the new ruler upon the death of his father, and so he’s the rightful owner of the Pink Lady.”

  “What about the Sheikh’s wife Laura Burns?” asked Odelia. “The stone was set in the engagement ring her husband the Sheikh gave her, so isn’t she the rightful owner?”

  “According to Khemed law upon marrying the Sheikh his wives lose all claims to any personal possessions they may have accumulated up to that point, so even though Sheikh Bab El Ehr gave her that ring, it remained his private property when the marriage was officiated. So this little beauty,” he said, tapping the jewel box affectionately, “will finally go home to Khemed.”

  “You know, Mayor Butterwick called me this morning,” said Odelia, “and she suggested that we turn the handing over of the Pink Lady into an official event at Town Hall. That way you’d be able to meet the girl who found the diamond, and perhaps give her some kind of token of the Sheikh’s appreciation—her parents would also be there, and the media would of course be represented.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” said Mr. Late. “You mean like a photo op with Mr. Godish and myself?”

  “It would give you an opportunity to officially thank the Wynns,” said Chase.

  “I think that’s a great idea. Don’t you, Oscar?”

  “Sounds swell,” said Mr. Godish without much enthusiasm. Then again, your Pinkerton detective just likes to get the job done without too much fuss—or some Town Hall shenanigans.

  “Isn’t that nice, Max?” said Dooley. “There’s going to be a big going-away party for the Pink Lady and we’ll all get to say goodbye.”

  “Maybe they can thank Johnny and Jerry while they’re at it,” Brutus grunted.

  “Oh, of course,” said Dooley. “Johnny did keep the stone nice and safe in his shoe, after all.”

  “Oh, Dooley,” Harriet sighed.

  “The full story is still not completely clear to me,” said Odelia, the reporter in her stirring itself. “The stone disappeared, when exactly?”

  “I’m afraid that part of the history of the Pink Lady is a little opaque, even to me,” said the world’s foremost diamond expert. “Either the diamond was lost or stolen, nobody seems to know for sure. But at any rate, it was thought lost forever, until it resurfaced in Hampton Cove—one of those mysteries of history, I guess. And perhaps we’ll never really know what happened.”

  “Any idea how it ended up in a safe deposit box at Capital First Bank?” asked Chase.

  “You looked into that side of the story, didn’t you, Oscar?”

  Oscar Godish nodded. “I talked to the bank manager. A Mr. Brady Dexter. And he told me the safe it was stolen from belonged to a man named Craig Bantam. Unfortunately Mr. Bantam died a couple of years ago, and so far I haven’t been able to contact his relatives.” He shrugged. “Look, the most important thing for Sheikh Bab El Ghat is the safe return of the Pink Lady. He’s not looking to launch a full-blown investigation into the circumstances of the diamond’s disappearance or reappearance. So as far as we’re concerned, Mr. Kingsley—our work is done.”

  Odelia looked a little disappointed by this. She, of course, had every reason to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the precious rock. She had an article to write, after all.

  “But if you do manage to find out what happened, perhaps you’ll give the Gazette the scoop?” she asked now.

  The little man’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t do scoops, Mrs. Poole,” he said in a measured tone that left no room for doubt as to how he felt about journalists. “No scoops, no snoops.”

  After the duo had left with the Pink Lady, Odelia turned to Chase. “No scoops, no snoops—that was a dig, wasn’t it? A dig at me, because he thinks I’m some kind of snoop?”

  “Or maybe he simply meant it in general,” said Chase. “At any rate, the diamond is finally gone, and now we can rest easy again.”

  “Maybe you can rest easy, but I want to find out what happened, and if I understood that insurance guy correctly, I won’t have to expect any help from him.”

  “Isn’t your uncle still involved? He said he was going to try to get to the bottom of this business, wasn’t he?”

  Odelia gave her hubby a grateful smile. “Thanks, babe. Looks like I know who to call first.”

  “Odelia, before you do that,” I said. “Can you talk to Wilbur Vickery? He went on two dates with this woman Loretta Gray, and since she walked out of their last date she hasn’t been answering his calls or messages and he’s feeling really down in the dumps.”

  “Loretta Gray?” said Odelia. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “The book your mom is reading,” said Chase.

  “What book?”

  “The book about the Pink Lady. The writer is also named Loretta Gray.”

  “Do you think they’re the same person?”

  “Probably. She’s definitely in town, since your mom met her yesterday, so maybe she’s dating Wilbur now?”

  “Dating Wilbur,” said Odelia, then shivered slightly. “Imagine that.”

  “Oh, and we just found out a big secret about Tex,” Dooley piped up, “but since it’s a secret we’re not supposed to tell an
yone. Just thought you’d want to know.”

  Odelia slowly turned to Dooley, then said, “Dooley, is this a joke?”

  “No joke,” said Dooley with a smile. “A secret.”

  Odelia now took a seat on the sofa right next to my friend, looked him straight in the eye and said, “Tell me everything. Right now.”

  22

  “You know, Max,” said Dooley, “instead of becoming a vet, maybe Tex should become a hairdresser. Now that Fido is gone he could take over the salon.”

  “I think that’s a great idea, Dooley.”

  We were traveling in Odelia’s car in the direction of the police station, and we were just passing by Fido’s salon. A For Sale sign had been placed in the window, a sad testament to the notion that Buster might never return, and would spend the rest of his life with the flat earthlings of Mount Shasta, California. Okay, so maybe that hadn’t been my best idea ever. You can’t hit them all out of the park!

  “I still can’t believe Dad would want to stop being a doctor and become a vet,” Odelia said. She hadn’t responded well to Dooley’s news.

  “But he seems to be very good at it,” I said. “Sam the pigeon was very satisfied with the services Tex offered him. If it hadn’t been for your dad, in fact, Sam might be dead right now, so that’s at least one pigeon’s life saved.”

  “No offense, Max, and I know this Sam is probably a good friend of yours—”

  “More of an acquaintance than a friend, but go on.”

  “—but I care more about the health and safety of the people of Hampton Cove than that of a single pigeon.”

  “Oh, but Tex saved a lot more lives than just Sam’s,” said Dooley. “In fact if Sam is to be believed, he’s like Hampton Cove’s very own Dr. Dolittle.” He turned to me. “I just thought of a joke, Max. Should I say it?”

  “Go ahead,” I said.

  “Tex could call himself Dr. Poolittle. From Poole and Dolittle—get it? Poo-little.”

  “Oh, I get it, Dooley,” I said with a small smile.

  “Dr. Poolittle indeed,” Odelia grumbled, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. Judging from the whiteness of her knuckles Dr. Poolittle would find no support from his daughter in his new endeavors, even though I had no doubt she would watch his future career with interest.

  “So when are you going to talk to Wilbur?” asked Dooley. “And offer him some relationship advice?”

  “Frankly I don’t give a hoot about Wilbur or his relationship,” Odelia muttered as she resolutely steered the car right past the General Store, where presumably Wilbur was still bombarding his latest conquest with hundreds of messages, and set a course for the police station instead.

  Life is about priorities, after all. When you have a story to write about a precious diamond, and your dear old dad has decided to burn his career to the ground, the love life of Wilbur Vickery has to take a backseat. Collateral damage, I think some people would call it.

  We’d arrived at the police station, and Odelia parked her car, then got out, allowing us to hop down to the ground to follow her inside.

  We passed Dolores, the precinct’s crusty dispatcher, who waved to us in greeting while barking into her phone, “No, ma’am, this is the police, NOT the DMV!”

  And then we found ourselves in Uncle Alec’s office. The big man was behind his desk, looking a little frazzled. His hair was standing in all directions—or at least what little hair he had left on his wide cranium, and when we entered he was on the phone, gesturing for his niece to take a seat. “No, Charlene, I don’t know when the Sheikh will arrive. Oh, he’s already here? Well, he sure as heck didn’t tell me. An official reception at Town Hall? Do you really think that’s necessary? Keys to the city? Are you sure… Yes, Charlene. If you think it’s a good idea.” And after adding, “Yeah, love you, too,” he hung up. Somehow that last sentence hadn’t sounded as loving as it could have.

  “Did I hear you correctly?” asked Odelia. “Is Sheikh Bab El Ghat in town?”

  The Chief nodded, then dragged ten weary digits through the devastated area that was his scalp. “The town council wants to organize a reception for the Sheikh, the whole nine yards—champagne, canapés, invite the whole town, the works. As if I don’t have enough on my plate already.”

  Odelia gave her uncle a strange look. “I just had the Sheikh’s insurance guy at the house and his expert, and they didn’t mention anything about the Sheikh being in Hampton Cove.”

  “Maybe they didn’t know. Guys like that don’t exactly like to make their travel plans known to the whole world. No, yeah, the guy arrived late last night. Wants to meet the Wynns and thank them personally for finding the stone. He’s staying at the Star—apparently renting a suite on the top floor for him and however many of his wives he decided to bring along on this trip.” He tugged at his nose. “I just hope no nutters get it into their nut to camp out in front of the hotel hoping to catch a glimpse of the Sheikh or, worse, decide to try and shoot the guy.”

  “Shoot the guy? Why would anyone want to shoot the guy?”

  “Because that’s what people do!” said the Chief, throwing up his hands. “They like to shoot at stuff, just because they can. Now why are you here? Did we have a meeting? I can’t remember.”

  “I’m here to talk about the investigation into the disappearance and recovery of the Pink Lady. I want to find out how that diamond got into that safe deposit box at the Capital First Bank.”

  “Uh-huh. Okay. So I talked to the bank—”

  “And they told you that that safe belonged to Craig Bantam.”

  The Chief stared at his niece. “How…”

  She smiled. “Oscar Godish told me.”

  “Who’s…”

  “The Sheikh’s insurance guy. Works for a company called Milestone Partners.”

  “Okay. So your Mr. Godish is correct. The safe deposit box was registered to a Craig Bantam. Now, Mr. Bantam died a couple of years ago, but he had a daughter, and that daughter has kept on paying for that safe, which is why your best bet would be to talk to the daughter. I’d do it myself, but nobody has asked me to investigate, and frankly I don’t have the time or the manpower to launch a full-scale investigation into that darned rock. Honestly I’ll be glad to be rid of the thing.”

  “No worries, Uncle. I’ve got plenty of time, and the best thing is that nobody has to tell me to investigate this strange business. I want to investigate it—in fact I can’t think of anything else!”

  “Good for you,” grumbled her uncle. “And if this Bantam woman gives you any grief, just flash them this badge.” And he pushed a small badge across his desk in Odelia’s direction.

  Odelia stared at it for a moment. “What’s this?”

  “I just thought I’d make it official that you’re a police consultant—not a cop, mind you, but still working for me.”

  “Why, thanks,” she said, and looked extremely touched by this sign of trust.

  “Oh, and also there’s this,” said Uncle Alec, and slipped an envelope across the stable, following the same trajectory as the badge.

  Odelia frowned as she checked the contents of the envelope. “What…”

  “If you’re going to be an official police consultant, you’re going on the payroll. On a freelance basis.”

  “But… this is too much,” said Odelia, probably the first time in the history of the world anyone had said that after receiving remuneration for services rendered.

  “It’s fine. I discussed it with Charlene, and considering all that you’ve done for this town, we think it’s only fair. And now you better scram, honey. I’ve got a ton of work, a Sheikh to protect from the crazies, and I don’t even know where to start!”

  “Uncle Alec?” said Dooley. “When do we get our badges as official consultant’s consultants?”

  “And our paycheck?” I added. “You can pay in kibble—we don’t mind.”

  Odelia smiled, but decided not to translate our words this time. Her uncle had enough on his
plate already. And besides, have you ever seen a cat wear a badge? Where would they even pin it!

  23

  “Don’t you think you should have told Uncle Alec about what happened with Johnny and Jerry last night?” I asked once we were back in the car.

  “No, I don’t,” said Odelia. “We gave our word we wouldn’t tell my uncle, and I intend to keep it.”

  “Do you really believe they’ll go out of their way to investigate what happened to that diamond?”

  “You never know, Max. Something I learned from my mom: she always sees the good in people. Maybe Johnny and Jerry will surprise us.”

  “They definitely surprised your parents when they broke into their bedroom last night.”

  We were on the road to Craig Bantam’s daughter, Craig being the man who rented that safe deposit box, and I wondered what we’d discover. This diamond business was easily as baffling as any mystery I’d ever encountered, and so far I couldn’t see where it would lead.

  “We saw Johnny and Scarlett kissing on a bench,” Dooley announced. “Do you think that’s part of his investigation, Odelia?”

  Odelia looked thoroughly surprised by this development. “Johnny and Scarlett? No way.”

  “Oh, yes,” I said with grim satisfaction. “So it looks like our boys aren’t exactly taking their investigation seriously.”

  “He could be investigating Scarlett,” Dooley said. “And hoping she will give up a few clues.”

  “Scarlett will give up something, all right,” said Odelia, “but it won’t be clues.”

  “It might be a clue how to get into her—”

  “Max!” said Odelia.

  “—confidence!” I finished. “She is, after all, Gran’s best friend, so maybe this is all part of a scheme to get their hands on that stone somehow.”

  “If it is, they’re barking up the wrong tree, since by now that stone is safe and sound in the hands of the Sheikh.”

  Just then, Odelia’s phone chimed, and she placed an earbud into her ear, then pressed a little button. “Odelia Poole.”