Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
He shook his head. “I’ve been on nonstop calls with the insurance company since it happened.”
“You reported it to them already?”
“Of course,” he said, dropping his hand to the leather in a slap for emphasis. “You can’t let thieves get away with anything.”
For someone who loved drama, he had no sense of irony.
“No, you can’t,” I said, more seriously than he could know. “You definitely can’t.” I had no intention of letting the thieves get away with snagging my diamond either.
The office phone rang, saving me from more playacting. I glanced at my watch. Eleven-thirty on the dot.
A few seconds later, Clarissa rapped gently on the door. “I have a phone call for Ruby. It’s Tommy. He sounds…distraught.”
I adopted a look of utter surprise and confusion. “Why isn’t he calling me on my cell…” I fished around in my purse as if hunting for the phone, which was silenced at the very bottom.
Leaving it there, I turned to my stepfather. “I forgot my cell. Is there any chance I could just…” I nodded to the landline on his desk.
Eli rose and gestured grandly. “Of course. Take as long as you need. Let me know when you’re done.”
“Just hit line nine,” Clarissa added, and they left the room and closed the door behind them to give me privacy with my friend. I’d told Jake to act like it was a crisis, and apparently, he’d nailed it.
As soon as the door clicked, I raced over to lock it, then marched to the desk and picked up line nine.
“Hello?”
Melodramatic sobs greeted me. “I’m so sad. I’m all alone and I’m having a snorkel-gear crisis I can’t possibly resolve without your advice.”
“Hold, please,” I told Jake, then set the receiver on the desk. I was alone in Eli’s office with the artwork. I was within reach of solving the mystery. My fingers tingled with excitement, and I all but skipped over to that wall.
The frame was about eighteen inches square—big enough to hide something but not so big I couldn’t handle it. Literally. I stood on the couch and lifted the art off the hook. As I moved it, something rattled.
A focused thrill pinged through me. I wondered if this was what Jake felt when he recovered what he was after. No wonder he loved his job.
Stepping down, I put the frame on the couch, the back turned toward me, and examined the sturdy paper backing. With the pocketknife from my purse, I carefully sliced the paper along the bottom so that I could turn back the corner.
My heart nearly rocketed to the moon. There it was. A black plastic cylinder the size of a travel toothbrush taped to the inside of the frame.
Wow.
Carefully, I reached in and peeled off the tape to take out the tube. Something rattled inside.
I pulled off the cap, held my breath, and tipped the contents into my palm. A whole handful of…nuts.
46
DOUBLES MATCH
Jake
“What did you find out?” I asked my sister, as I sat on a bench at the edge of Seven Mile Beach, getting her report over the phone and trying not to grind my teeth.
“Nuts.”
“Nuts?”
I didn’t know how Ruby was managing to keep it together over lunch with her stepfather.
My first reaction had been bafflement as to why anyone would smuggle ordinary cocktail mix inside framed art. Then I realized they must have been a decoy. Somebody wanted people to assume what Ruby had—that there were diamonds hidden safely away.
On my first visit to Sapphire, I’d spotted Nigel crunching on cashews as he left Eli’s office. Had he planted the nuts for Eli, or had he found the nuts the way Ruby had? Was the snake tattoo guy working for Eli or against him?
No idea, so I homed in on my sister as she began her debrief. “Nigel Harris has worked in the nightclub business for eight years. He managed that property under its previous owner, and when Eli bought the club and renamed it, he kept Nigel on to run things. He helped with the renovation, with hiring, and with lining up security.”
“Is he local?”
“No. Born in the UK. Oldest of six siblings. Looks like he sends money to support his widowed mom.”
I sympathized with the guy, but that was powerful motivation for supplementing his income with opportunistic theft. “What about the tattoo? Any significance there?”
“Apparently, he has pet snakes.”
My stomach curdled at the thought, and I moved to the next name I’d given Kate to check out. “What about Tristan O’Doole?” I asked. “Tell me about the restaurant guy.”
“Ah, Tristan. He’s from Boston, been on the island over fifteen years. His Boston restaurant had a big opening and early success, but failed due to debt. He started Tristan’s fifteen years ago and it’s been moderately successful. From my research, he’s considered a solid chef, but his Boston restaurant failed because he put his money in a house brand of coffee and liquor drinks that didn’t work out. Looks like a pattern. A year ago, he tried out some strange chocolate drinks at Tristan’s that didn’t quite win any fans.”