Chapter Sixteen
Jonas was more helpful than Jack had been. When I told him where I was he had mumbled a few sentences in Yiddish. I picked up goyim and moshuganah. "I'll call my brother, Tommy, and we'll be there in twenty minutes. Stay strong, kid. And don't say anything stupid before we got there, huh."
Polaski returned me to the room where Shapiro was waiting. I sat down at the table, and Polaski closed the door. No doubt, he returned to his stance guarding the door.
"My attorney will be here shortly," I said.
"And I don't suppose you're going to say a word until he arrives?"
"Not anything you want to hear," I said.
We sat in silence, staring at each other, until the door opened half an hour later.
When Tom Silvers walked through the door, he immediately took command, ushering Shapiro out of the room with no ceremony, and pulled a chair around to my right.
Tom was an older version of Jonas, with the same thick white hair and the same short, stocky build. They could have been identical twins, were it not for fifteen years separating their births. Tom was more outgoing than Jonas, if such a thing was possible, and I would have called him pushy if he had not had such a genuinely kind nature.
"Jonas told me what's going on," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Hard to believe that something like this can go on in America, isn't it?"
For a minute, I was afraid he was about to launch into one of his notorious tirades about Nazi concentration camps or any one of a dozen other topics he so loved talk about. Once he got started, there was no stopping him.
"They read you your rights," he asked.
"No," I said, a little relieved.
"Good. And I didn't ask you that question. Got anything you want to tell me?"
"There's nothing to tell."
"That's good. I dealt with Corky Shapiro once before. He's a pussycat if you know how to play him right."
"Corky," I said, laughing.
"Don't let him hear you can him that. Remind me and I'll tell you later how he got the name. Now, that's quite a story."
"I'll bet it is," I said. Even if it wasn't, Tom would turn it into one.
Tom put his fedora on the table and hung his trench coat over the back of his chair. Then he went to the door and called Corky back into the room.
Shapiro resumed his seat across the table from me. Tom stood behind me with his hands on the back of my chair. I was impressed with this tactic. By standing, he was keeping command of the situation to himself. By standing where he was, he was telling Shapiro that we were more than attorney and client. We were a united front, a team that was to be reckoned with and not taken lightly. I made a mental not to add this to my repertoire.
"Why are you holding my client?" No preliminaries. Lets get this over with.
"I have reason to believe that she is responsible for the robbery at Crown Jewels," Shapiro said. He tried to assume a confident pose, with his head held perfectly straight but he had to look up slightly when he spoke to Tom, and it ruined the illusion.
"I've heard about your so called evidence. You got anything I don't know about?"
"I don't know what you know."
"Of course not." Tom walked to the end of the table, and Shapiro had to turn his gaze away from me to look at him. He positioned himself so that he could glance at me without being obvious. "Let's start with the ring. Would you say that Pagan Brock is a stupid woman?"
"Not at all," Shapiro said, a little confused.
"No, she isn't or she wouldn't have gotten as far as she has in her career. But it would be stupid for a person to wear something that could easily identity them when they're committing a crime, wouldn't it."
"Yes. But there's no other explanation for finding the ring where we did."
"You found its location unusual?"
"Very unusual."
"Its a jewelry store. You think its unusual to find a ring in a jewelry store?"
"The ring was found with the body of the murdered security guard."
"You were aware that the ring had been lost for a couple weeks."
"Yes. She must have found it, put it on that night, and if it fell off once, it could have fallen off again. That makes sense, doesn't it?"
"Not a bit."
"Well, maybe she left it there on purpose. To throw us off."
Shapiro apparently thought that made sense. Tom looked at me and shrugged. The guys crazy, he was saying.
"Are you going to charge my client?"
"I can hold her here for twenty-four hours before I have to make that decision."
Tom nodded sadly. "Yes, you can. I hope for your sake that you don't make the decision to do that."
Shapiro turned back to me. "Tell me this, why were you meeting with a jewelry fence earlier today."
I was glad that Shapiro had addressed that to me, and wasn't looking at Tom, whose eyes got very wide. You had nothing to tell me, eh?
"What jewelry fence," I asked.
"Vince Scarpelli."
"As for as I know, Vince Scarpelli is a legitimate diamond broker," I said.
At the mention of that name , Tom turned on his heel. I thought he was going to start banging his head against the well, but he just rested his forehead there for a moment. Shapiro didn't take his eyes off me.
"And I suppose the same is true of Shelley Rowson and Norman Lucas?"
Shapiro must have been following me all day, although I hadn't seen him.
I thought Tom was going to walk out of the room, but instead he came and took a seat next to me.
"What are you getting at, Shapiro," he asked.
"I'm waiting for an answer."
"You don't have to say anything, Pagan," Tom said, and suggested with his eyes that I take his advice.
"I know their reputations are a bit tarnished," I said. "But they do have legitimate connections. Replacing the amount of merchandise that was lost in a short period of time is not an easy task. It requires taking advantage of some unorthodox approaches."
"Unorthodox. You mean illegal," Shapiro said.
"No, I mean unorthodox. I have never and I will never employ illegal tactics, particularly when the reputation of Crown Jewels is at stake."
Chapter Seventeen
Corky Shapiro kept us at the police station for two more hours, asking the same questions and going over the some things time and time again. In the end, he seemed fairly confident in his belief that I had intentionally left the ring in the vault to throw him off the track. He even suggested that it had never been lost in the first place, and that claiming it was had been a part of my devious plan.
Eventually, he had no choice but to let me go, with a warning not to leave town and an insinuation that he would not rest until he saw me in prison.
Jonas, who had been waiting the whole time in the lobby of the police station, drove me back down to Clairmore Boulevard to pick up my car. He didn't ask what I had been doing in that neighborhood, and I didn't volunteer the information. In fact Jonas said very little on the long drive, which was fine with me, even if it was rather unusual. I settled back into the plush seat of his Lincoln Town Car and tried to relax.
I couldn't help noticing that he seemed preoccupied. I considered asking him what was wrong, but if that was something that he wanted to share, he would do it without any prompting from me. I decided that he was probably worried about Crown Jewels, as I was, and no one could blame him for that.
It was already starting to get dark when Jonas turned off of Clairmore into the parking lot where I had left my car. He pulled into the space next to it, shut off the ignition, and turned in his seat to look at me.
"Tell me that you are going straight home, and that you're not going to get into anymore trouble tonight," he said.
"I promise," I said. "All I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep for about twelve hours."
"Good," he said. He turned to face forward and ran his finger lightly over the leather covered steering wheel. "Are you going to feel up to working tomarrow?"
"I don't see why I wouldn't," I said.
"Good. I think I'll take the day off. Maybe I'll try to get in a golf game, get my mind off things for a while."
"That would probably be a good idea," I said.
"You're better at handling business matters anyway. Don't know what I'd do without you, Kid."
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," I said, "for everything."
"Bah. Think nothing of it," he said, dismissing my gratitude with a wave of his hand.
I should have known better than to say anything. Jonas was a man who would give you the shirt off his back if it was the only one he had, but if you were too appreciative, he would loose a measure of respect for you. Nonetheless, he had been there for me when Jack had refused, and that deserved some recognition.
I got out of his car and into my own. Miraculously, after being parked in this neighborhood all afternoon, the Mercedes was still in one piece. But then, it had been in the Scarpelli Enterprises customer parking space, and that was better protection than the most sophisticated alarm system.
Chapter Eighteen
It was fully dark by the time I got home. There was no moon that night, and a storm front had moved in with thick black clouds that obscured the stars. The first drops of rain began to fall as I walked from the garage to the front door, and by the time I locked to door behind me, the rain was coming down in relentless torrents.
The house, too, was completely dark. Turning on the light sounded like too much work, so I felt for the staircase in the dark and started up. Just as my foot landed on the third step, a light come on in the living room behind me. I turned around, startled. Jack was standing in the archway, leaning against the wall and staring at me.
"The prodigal wife returns," he said. The hate and scorn in his words and in his eyes gave me chills.
"Does that mean you're going to slaughter the fatted calf and have a feast in my honor," I asked. Jack was not amused.
"Where have you been?"
I told him that he knew damned well where I'd been, and I went upstairs. Jack followed me into the bedroom and slammed the door.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on or do I have to wait for someone else to tell me?" He stood in front of the closed door, guarding my only route of escape.
"Well," I said calmly, "the neighbors seem to be doing a pretty good job of keeping you informed about my life. Why don't we just wait until they find out."
"I want to talk to you about that."
"I thought you might," I said. I stood in the middle of the room. He wasn't going to pin me against anything like he had the other night.
"I have a reputation to protect, Pagan, and whatever you're involved in isn't helping. I realize that you were never really committed to this marriage..."
"What?"
"Why else would you have kept your maiden name?"
"Pagan Ramsey sounds just a little too Satanic, okay."
"But if you are bent on destroying my reputation, you're going to have a fight on your hands. Frankly, I don't care if you go down, but I'll be damned if I'll let you drag my name through the mud with you."
"The words of a truly committed man."
"You have no place criticizing me, Pagan." He was almost screaming. "I have never done anything to hurt you or to harm you professionally. In fact, I've done nothing but support you every step of the way."
"Oh, right" I said. "By letting me keep my job."
"Exactly. But what have you ever done for me? Just name one little thing that you have ever done to help me in my career. That's all I want. One thing."
"I have sat for hours at your stupid banquets, listening to one boring speech after another about nothing at all. I have come home after a long, hard days work and played hostess to a hundred of your friends and associates. I have put up with Alex Baron pinching me on the ass and I never so much as said a word. I have fixed dinner for your unexpected and unwelcome guests at a moments notice. So don't you tell me that I've never done anything for you. I have done everything you have ever asked of me and more."
"You don't even understand, do you. Alex Baron's wife has a lot of influence over him. It was your responsibility to get to know her. Talk me up. If you had been willing to do that one little thing, I would probably have been made a partner a long time ago."
"Lunches and tennis at the club, then we go down for a massage and I say, 'By the way, Jack is very fond of your husband, Tiffi, has nothing but the highest praise for him.'"
"Exactly."
"That's not me, Jack, and you knew that from the start. I am an independent person. Not some decoration, a trophy wife for you to flaunt to your friends. That is one role I absolutely refuse to play. Besides which, you're forgetting one thing."
"What's that?"
"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be living this life that you've grown so accustomed to. You wouldn't have this house to entertain in. You wouldn't have that Porsche out in the garage."
"Right. I could never provide a life for us, could I?"
"That's not my point," I said. "What we have, we've built together. Neither of us could have done it alone."
"You always have to throw that in my face, don't you," he asked. "Okay, you make more money then I do."
"You aren't even hearing what I'm saying, are you," I asked.
"Fine. You're the provider. Is that what you want to hear?""
"No, it's not. I want to hear what I wanted to hear from the beginning. That we're partners. That we can work together to get where we went to go. I want us to stand side by side as equals. I want a little kindness and a little romance. Is that really too much to ask?. "
"You only get back what you're willing to give."
"I've tried. I've been trying for eight years. I don't know what more you want me to do."
"Can't you listen? That's what I've been trying to tell you. I want you to be the kind of wife I need to get ahead. I want you to be around when I need you. Dammit Pagan, I haven't seen you for two days."
"Hey, I cant help it you were asleep when I got home last night."
"You probably planned it that way. Who were you with?"
I couldn't answer that. Anything I said would be the wrong thing. And saying nothing was worse.
"Who Is he, Pagan?" Jack started, pacing the floor. He was breathing hard and his face was bright red with anger.
"There's no one else, Jack," I said as calmly as I could. It was the truth, but it felt like a lie. "I went to dinner with some people from work."
"Okay, and what did you talk about?"
"How we're going to go about replacing the stolen merchandise and how soon we can expect to reopen." It wasn't exactly a lie. Schuyler and I had talked about that briefly.
"Very good. Of course, you've had all day to come up with that."
I shook my head. "Believe what you want to. I really don't care right now."
That made Jack even angrier. He stopped pacing and stood by the dresser. His face had gone utterly blank. There was no emotion there. I had seen that look more and more in the last few years. I searched his eyes for some small glimpse of the man I had married.
He had been happy in the early years. Always quick with a joke and seemingly exempt from the fifteen minute rule that says you always come up with the snappiest comeback when its fifteen minutes too late. He had never wanted me to work, that part hadn't changed, but in the beginning, he had understood that I needed to.
That man was gone. The person standing before was someone I didn't know. Someone I didn't want to know. I had been holding on to the hope that he could become that person again, but I was beginning to see that such a transformation was no longer possible. He had fallen too deep into a pit of anger and self-pity, and no rope I could throw him was long enough to reach the bottom.
I wanted him to love me, in the way I had once loved him, or at least thought I did. I saw now that he was incapable of that. He couldn't love another person when he was feeling so much hatred of himself. There just wasn't that much room in his heart.
He was a man to be pitied, a shell of person in whom none of the vitality or substance of humanity remained. The essence of Jack Ramsey was gone. It was time to mourn the loss and move on.
None of this served to lessen my anger. Instead, it turned some of the anger inward. I wondered if I had seen this sooner, would things have been different? I decided that they wouldn't. But it was something I could never know for sure.
"What are you looking at," Jack bellowed.
I wasn't sure how long I had been staring at him. "Nothing."
"You were staring at me."
"I guess I was. Sorry."
"Why," he demanded. He took a step closer.
"Jack," I said, "I have to ask you something. Did you ever love me?"
It seemed to happen in slow motion. He crossed the space between us, coming at me with that blank look on his face. He stopped about eighteen inches away from me. Then he raised his hand. I had more than enough time to grab his wrist and prevent him land from making contact with my face. I didn't. His open palm caught me hard on the right cheek. I didn't turn my head to absorb the blow. Instead, I tensed the muscles in my neck and took the full force of it.
My cheek felt hot, and the stinging sensation was so strong that tears came to my eyes. But I was too angry to let them flow.
"I told you the first time that happened that if you ever hit me again, I was leaving you." I opened the closet, grabbed a few of the hangers on my side at random, picked up my purse and heeded for the door. "Good-bye, Jack."
I glanced at him as I walked out the door. There was finally some expression in his eyes, although his face was blank. That look would stay with me for a long time. It was utter disbelief and hopelessness.
Chapter Nineteen
When I woke up the next morning, it took a minute or two to realize where I was. Even as I sat up and looked around, the setting was unfamiliar. Only as I become aware of the throbbing in my cheek and the relentless pounding in my head did the events of the night before come back to me.
I got out of bed, wrapped the sheet around me and went into the bathroom. When I looked in the mirror, I saw that what had been a little red spot last night had turned bluish-purple and spread over most of the right side of my face. I touched the bruise gingerly. Even that light touch sent sharp spears of pain through my entire body.
The hotel I had checked into was fortunately one of those that still left the complimentary toiletries in the rooms. I picked up the little bottles of shampoo and conditioner and stepped into the shower. As if the bottles weren't small enough, they were half full. Great for people with crew cuts, but my hair hung half way down my back, and by the time I got the shampoo watered down enough to do the job, it was more or less pointless. I rinsed my hair, careful not to let the stream of water touch my face, and got out.
I dumped the contents of my purse out on the bed and started sorting through it. I found an old tube of make up base that had been the right shade last summer when I had a tan, an eye shadow compact, the contents of which had turned to powder, some blusher that was in the same condition and seven tubes of lipstick. I could make do.
I thought about trying to cover the bruise with make-up, but I couldn't face the pain of having to touch it. I put on the rest of my make-up, completely avoiding the right side of my face. To tide the bruise, I parted my hair low on the left side of my head and brushed it so that it cascaded down from the center of my forehead, covering my right eye like a brunette Veronica Lake. The style made it difficult to see where I was going, but it did what I wanted it to do.
I called room service and ordered a pot of coffee, plenty of cream and sugar, scrambled eggs, bacon and whole wheat toast. I had decided to take advantage of the chance for a decent meal, because, considering how the last few days had been, I didn't know when I would have another opportunity.
While I was waiting for breakfast, I checked the clothes hanging in the closet. Considering I had made a blind grab, I hadn't done too bad. I put on a burgundy suede suit which I rarely wore because the skirt was shorter than I was
comfortable in, and a white blouse.
After breakfast, I checked the mirror one more time. Not too bad considering what I had to work with this morning.
I slipped the room key in my purse and left for work.
Chapter Twenty
I spent most of the day on the phone with the insurance company. Cindy, one of the girls in shipping and receiving, had put the iventory into the computer and sent off the necessary copies for me. To save time, she had relied heavily on the series of code numbers assigned to the missing pieces and had forgotten the descriptions entirely. I spent nearly six hours trying to straighten everything out.
After that I started on the stack of purchase orders that had piled up in my inbox. Review it, sign it, white copy to the seller, pink copy in my files, yellow copy to receiving. I had gotten only a few done when the phone rang.
I hit the speaker. "Crown Jewels, Pagan Brock speaking."
"Hey, kid, how ya doing?"
"Fine, Jonas. Knee deep in paper work, but getting by." I signed a form separated the copies and picked up another.
"That's good," he said. His voice was strained and wavering. "Listen, kid. I been thinking. Under the circumstances..." He stopped.
"Under the circumstances what," I asked. I froze with my pen positioned over one of the purchase orders. There was something in his tone.
"Look, until this thing gets cleared up," he said, and paused before he finished the sentence, "I think it would be best for the company if you ... took a leave of absence. Just for a little while, of course."
I didn't know what to say, and even if I had, I was too stunned to say anything. I picked up the phone and turned off the external speaker.
"It's not personal, kid. Just. Well, you know, if people should start talking, and you know they will, it could get pretty rough on you."
"So this is to spare my feelings," I asked. "If that's the case, you don't need to worry. I can handle a little suspicion."
"It's partly that, yeah. As I said, when this is all behind you, you come back. No big deal. I gotta think about the business."
"You've got to cover your ass," I said. "Well, what about me? Jonas, I can't believe you would do this."
"I hope you understand."
I didn't understand. Not at all. "I guess I'll just finish what I'm doing and go," I said. "Is that all right or do you want me to leave now?"
"Try not to take it too hard, kid. You know I love you like one of my own."
"Do you," I asked.
"Yeah. Bye, kid." The line went dead.
Chapter Twenty-One
I called down to the guard and told him that I would be working late. Then I sat in my office, staring out the window until I was sure that everyone had left for the night. I didn't want to see anyone.
At six-fifteen, I locked my office and went down the hallway to the sales floor. I stood in the doorway for a long time, looking at the place that had been like a second home for ten years. It felt like I was looking at it for the last time. I assured myself that this was not the case , but the thought lingered in the back of my mind.
Every corner of Crown Jewels, every display case, every chair, held a memory.
I walked to the back of the store, running my fingers along the cool glass of the display cabinets as I went. I had seen them standing empty thousands of times before. But always I knew that in the morning, trays of jewelry would be brought out on rolling carts and in a matter of minutes, everything would be back to normal. Just as it should be, with thousands of gemstones sparkling under the halogen lights.
It wouldn't be that way tomorrow, or the next day. Then again, I wouldn't be here either.
I stopped at the watch counter, went behind it, and stood where I had seen Schuyler stand almost every day for the last four years. Here, he stood with his forearm on the counter, chatting amiably with the customers, as comfortable with a college kid looking for a cheap Timex as he was with one of society's grande dames who thought nothing of dropping a charge card on the counter without asking the price.
He was here every time I needed to talk to someone, and he seemed to know, on those occasions, just what I was feeling. He always knew the right thing to say. How many times had I gone out of my way to walk by here just to smile and say hello?
Next to this was the counter that housed the wedding sets. That was where I had worked for my first ten months at Crown Jewels. I was nineteen then, and still naive enough to believe in love, to believe in the fairy tale endings where everyone lives happily ever after. It was during this time that I had met Jack.
He had come into the store, looked around for a while, then set down at my counter. He asked to see one of the rings and I took it out of the case. While he examined it, I asked him about his fiancee.
"I don't have one," he said. "I just came over here to meet you."
Nineteen years old and innocent to most of the ways of the world. Maybe I was just flattered that this handsome, much older man was interested in me. Whatever it was, I said yes when he asked me to dinner.
Suddenly, I realized that this was the first time all day that I'd thought about him. And then only in connection with the store. Was that normal?
On the wall near that counter was a display window. It started about a foot off the ground and ended about the some distance from the ceiling. Over the years, it had been the home to many spectacular displays. When I had started here, there was a display showing the steps that a rough diamond went through to become the perfect, cut and polished gem. I had glanced at it many times. I remember thinking that a finished stone must be the ultimate work of art. Each one has evolved to it's highest point. It is as perfect as it can ever be. It has reached its final destiny.
The items on display now had been spared in the robbery, although they were perhaps the most valuable items in the store. It had been put in while I was on vacation last year. On the morning I returned, Jonas had met me at the door, more excited than I had ever seen him.
"I have to show you something," he'd said. He took me by the hand and pulled me to the window.
Inside, on a background of royal blue silk, were six Faberge eggs. They needed nothing else with them to make a display. They were exquisite all by themselves.
I touched the glass of the case. When I thought about it hard enough, I could almost feel those eggs under my fingers. The smooth surface of the enamel, the point where it changed to the rough of the gold latticework and gemstones.
I closed my eyes, and for a moment was transported back in time to the splendor of Imperial Russia. Outside the palace, the masses were starving and ready to revolt but I was inside, safe, at least for the moment. Gold shimmered all around me, from the chandeliers to the detail work over the doors. A grand marble staircase led to the second floor, high above.
The image faded. I tried to get it back but the effort was in vain.
God, I would miss this place. I'd always hated to be away from it. More than once, Jonas had nagged me for months before I would finally give in and take a few days off. Now, when I walked out tonight, I wouldn't know when I was going to be back.
I laughed. I would even miss the stupid logo on the sign over the front door. The "o" In Crown Jewels was in the shape of a solitaire diamond ring, tilted forward a little so that you could see the table of the simple eight-cut diamond, and there was a little crown hanging off the top of the "J". I wasn't alone in thinking that the store needed a new logo, but it had had this one since the 1940's and no one felt that it was their place to change it.
"I thought you went home already."
I turned around. Schuyler was standing in the middle of the room.
"How long have you been there," I asked.
"Not long. Sorry I startled you. Where were you anyway? You looked like you were miles away."
"More like years," I said. "I was just remembering."
Schuyler came over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. "You want to talk about it," he asked.
You know me too well, I thought. I bit my lip and nodded. He took my hand and led me to the chairs at the wedding counter. He helped me into one of them, then turned another so he could sit facing me.
"I know this is a difficult time for you," he said. "But everything is going to be all right." He took my hand and held it between both of his.
"No, its not," I said. I told him about my phone call from Jonas. "I don't understand. He's been so supportive and now this. And he didn't even have the courage to talk to me face to face.. That's what hurts the most." I took another look around. "I never thought I would have to say good-bye."
"Don't think of it as good-bye. Think of it as so long for a while."
"Can it ever be the some, though? What's done can't be undone. Even when I've proved my innocence, there's going to be this cloud of suspicion following me everywhere I go."
"No one thinks, you did it, Pagan. No one. That cop is a fool. Nothing more. And before long, he'll realize it, too."
That made some sense. After a while, when nothing could be proved, Shapiro would have to start looking at other options, and if he didn't do it on his own, his superiors would make the decision for him.
"I guess you're right."
"Of course, I am. Now why don't you go home and try to forget all of this for a little while?'
"I can't do that," I whispered. "I left Jack."
Schuyler looked at me as though I were speaking in a language he didn't understand. When it began to sink in, he reached out to touch my cheek.
"I'm sorry. I..."
Almost before his fingers touched me, I pulled away and gasped, closing my eyes tightly and clenching my teeth to fight the pain.
Schuyler was on his knees next to me in the same instant. I opened my eyes. I was trembling as he reached out his hand to push my hair back from my face.
Schuyler stared at me for a full minute, his fingers hovering just inches from my cheek.
"That bastard," he hissed.
Chapter Twenty-two
"I don't want to hear anymore arguments," Schuyler said as we walked to the parking lot. "You're not staying in a hotel when I have plenty of room at my house." He had his arm around my waist, holding me up. I was emotionally drained and exhausted, but still strong enough to stand on my own. I didn't tell Schuyler that. Having him there to lean on felt good, and I wanted that feeling to last as long as possible.
"That is, is you don't mind the dogs," he said.
"I love dogs," I said, "But..."
"No buts," he interrupted.
"It just wouldn't look right."
We were standing next to his Jeep now. He let go of me and propped me against the side of the car.
"Maybe it wouldn't. Do you really care?"
I shook my head. I had to admit that I didn't. And I didn't want to be alone. I couldn't think of another reason to refuse.
Chapter Twenty-three
Inside, the house reminded me of a log cabin, with rough unfinished oak walls and a big stone fireplace in the living room. The floors throughout the house were dark wood, covered here and there with the kind of knotted cloth area rug you would expect to see in an old time farm house. The sofa and chairs in the living room were dark oak covered in a muted plaid upholstery. There were sliding glass doors at the back of the room that opened onto a deck. Beyond this, an open doorway led to the dining room and kitchen.
Schuyler showed me to the guest room at the end of the hall and invited me to make my self at home while he changed. A few minutes later, he came out of his bedroom in jeans, a red plaid shirt and cowboy boots. He went outside to tend to his horses, Swatch, a white and rust colored paint mare, and Ebony, a black gelding with three white socks and a white star on his forehead. While he was outside, I put together a semblance of a dinner from the scant selection of scraps and leftovers in the refrigerator. Sadie, a young and enthusiastic Irish setter, helped me in the kitchen, and Duke, the elderly black lab, watched me suspiciously from his place on the sofa.
After dinner, Schuyler told me all that he had learned from his discreet questioning of his co-workers. Exactly nothing.
"I wish I could have come up with something for you," he said. "But I didn't want to push too hard."
"No," I said, "of course not." I told him that I really didn't feet like talking about Crown Jewels. The truth was, I was afraid I would start crying if I had to think about it for too long.
He asked me if I wanted to talk about Jack.
"The marriage was over a long time ago," I said. "I just didn't realize it. Things just kept getting worse and worse, and I didn't see it."
"You didn't went to?"
"Not exactly. I just submerged myself in my work and didn't have the time to notice."
"Do you still love him?"
"No. The strange thing is, I don't feel anything. I'm not relieved. I'm not sad. It's just over."
"And you don't want to talk about that" Schuyler said. Then he smiled.
Suddenly I was feeling very nervous. I stood up and started to clear the dishes from the table. Schuyler caught up to me in the kitchen.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"It's all right" I said, scraping the dishes into the sink. I turned to look at him. "This was a bad idea. I should just go back to the hotel."
"Don't," he said. He caught my hand as I tried to walk past him. "I want you to stay. I promise, I won't try anything."
I looked into his eyes and spoke without thinking. "Unless I went you to?"
"Do you," he asked.
"I'm not sure," I whispered.
Slowly, he pulled me close. And he kissed me. It was gentle at first, almost tentative. For a moment, I couldn't respond. Then my body seemed to melt into his and instinctively, my arms went around him and I began to kiss him back.
We kissed for a long time. He ran his fingers through my hair, touching the heel of his hand to the bruise on my face. I hardly noticed.
Then, I felt his hand unbuttoning my blouse. I had every intention of letting him continue, but I suddenly felt myself pushing him away and I heard my own voice, disconnected from my body, saying, "Stop."
He took a step back. We were both breathing hard.
I leaned against the sink and tried to catch my breath. "I can't do this," I said. "It's too soon. I don't want to rush it, Sky."
He nodded. "You're right. I understand. Excuse me."
He turned and left the kitchen, disappearing around the corner and down the hall. A minute later, I heard the shower running.
I got the rest of the dishes from the table and took them into the kitchen. I turned on the water, picked up a glass and started to rinse it. I dropped it and it shattered in the bottom of the sink.
Not really comprehending, I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. I could still feel Schuyler's lips on mine, his body pressed against me. I shut off the water and left the kitchen.
As I rounded the corner into the hallway, the bathroom door opened. "No, I don't understand," Schuyler said. "You've been sending out signals all week."
"I know," I said. I fell into his arms and we sank to the floor.
Later, Schuyler built a fire and we sat in front of the fireplace, wrapped in each other's arms, my head rested against his shoulder. Duke wandered over and curled up next to us. The warmth of the fire was good for his arthritis. The setting was perfect.
"Harvey's funeral is tomorrow morning," Schuyler said.
I could tell that he hated to bring it up, but nothing could spoil my mood. "Are you going," I asked, moving a little closer to him.
"I thought I ought to. You?"
"Yeah. I guess I am," I said.
Schuyler once again seemed to guess my thoughts. He leaned over and kissed me lightly. "Don't worry, Pagan," he said. He turned my head so I was looking at him. "I don't believe in one night stands. I care about you. And, I know it's too soon to say it, but I hope that you and I can have a future together. I think that's what you want, too."
"Yes," I said. "I do. I just never thought it could happen." I laid my head on his shoulder again. "The last few days have been so crazy. I'm scared, Sky. I can't help thinking that this is just a part of the craziness."
"Don't say that." He slipped an arm under my legs and pulled me onto his lap. "How long has this been going on? How long have we been lovers, in our hearts?"
I could have answered that question with an exact date. "You're right," I said.
"Besides, now, when you get back to work, you won't have to make excuses to walk by the watch counter all the time."
I blushed. "Was I that obvious," I asked.
Schuyler stroked my hair. "Not so that anyone else would notice. But, I suppose I was looking for it."
Chapter Twenty-four
There were only thirty people in the church. Amelia sat in the front row. She was wearing a cheap and ill fitting black dress and a hat with a veil that completely obscured her face. Sharon at on her right, staring blankly at the plain wooden coffin that sat near the altar. To Amelia's left were a man and woman, both in their early twenties, whom I did not know. I assumed that they were her grandchildren.
The others were scattered here and there throughout the nave. I know almost all of them. Charlie Howard and Jerry Dinsmore, who were both security guards at Crown Jewels, sat closest to the front. Jerry's wife, Elaine was sitting with them. Carole Lefler, Andy Fishburn, and Sara Lewis, all department heads, sat together in the middle of the church. I recognized several members of the Crown Jewels sales staff, some of whom I knew by name, and others who had been with the store only a few months and whom I hadn't gotten to know yet.
Schuyler and I sat In the back row. He had his arm around my shoulders. He had tried to talk me out of coming. He knew that seeing these people would be hard on me. No one would know yet about my leave of absence. But someone was bound to start talking to me about some trivial matter of business that had come up. I wasn't quite sure how I would handle that, and Schuyler didn't think I should have to. But Harvey had been part of the Crown Jewels family, and that meant that I counted him a member of my family. I owed it to him to be here.
I was watching the people. Did anyone look like a remorseful killer, here to pay his last respects to his victim? Was anyone conspicuously absent?
I made a mental list of people I wanted to talk to. Charlie left just before the robbery. He told me that he hadn't seen anything, but he might have seen something that didn't seem important at the time. He may even have picked up an accomplice, gone back to the store and done it himself. Sara Lewis had only been with the store for a year, and she never really took the job as seriously as she should have. Maybe she took the job just to get the combination to the vault
Andy leaned over and whispered something into Carole's ear, then they both laughed. Unusual conduct at a funeral. I would talk to them, too.
I felt Schuyler's muscles tighten. I looked up in time to see what had caused the reaction. Jonas had arrived. He, his wife, Merry, and their daughter, Rebecca, who was home for summer vacation from Harvard business school, took the pew directly across the aisle from us.
Jonas looked over at me, then quickly away when he saw that I was looking at him.
"Don't let it get to you," Schuyler whispered.
I wanted to talk to Jonas, too, but for a different reason. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind. And maybe a swift kick if he didn't apologize in a timely and groveling manner.
"You don't have to worry about me," I told Schuyler.
"Someone has to," he said, and kissed me.
Jonas had been watching this and nodded his approval. As furious as I was at him, his approval meant a lot to me. He had given me an opportunity that few others would have. He had taken me under his wing and personally groomed me to take over as the manager of Crown Jewels, despite the fact that I had no college degree and no experience managing anything, my own finances included. He had chosen me over his own son and daughter, who had worked in the store off and on for several years, and he had paid for that choice. It had nearly destroyed his family. His son, Jonathon, had moved to California and gone into business for himself, operating on borrowed money and loosing it all in the first three years. Rebecca, who was much younger than her brother, took it better, but she had told me once that it would be a long time before her father retired, and I could count on the fact that, by then, she would have seen to it that she would be the one to take over the business. And when she did, she said, there would be no place in it for me.
Through all of this, Jonas had stood by me. And for that, I owed him more than I cared to admit. Yes, he had treated me like yesterday's garbage. But it was one incident in ten years. If he was big enough to apologize, which, I was sure, he would eventually do, I could be big enough to forgive and forget.
The service was short. The minister spoke of a man who was deeply loved by his friends and his family, though by watching the so called mourners, I could find no evidence of that. If it is true that a man's worth is judged by the turnout at his funeral, then Harvey Bannister hadn't been worth much.
At the end of the service, the minister said "Go in peace," and the congregation seemed to take this as an order rather than as a suggestion. Everyone headed for the doors in a rush.
Outside, everyone gathered on the steps. Only the immediate family would be going on to the graveside. This was the time to offer the family condolences.
Fortunately for me, everyone seemed to be in too much of a hurry to get away to want to stand around and chat. Everyone from Crown Jewels said hello to me. Many of them looked at me a little strangely, but that was probably because Schuyler was holding my hand.
Jonas was the exception to both of these. He kept his distance and didn't say a word to me, but when I did catch his gaze, he was very obviously pleased to see us together. In looking back, I think he must have seen through Jack from the beginning. When I had first told him the exciting news that we were getting married, he had not said congratulations, he had said, "Are you sure?"
It was my turn to speak to Amelia. She looked very tired, but better than the last time I had seen her.
"Thank you for coming, Ms. Brock," she said. "Have you met my grandchildren, Annie and Frank?"
"No," I said, and shook hands with the two who had been sitting with her.
"Grandma told us that you stopped by the other night," Annie said. "That was really nice of you."
I shook my head. "The offer stands," I said. "If there's anything any of you need, call me."
"That's really sweet," she said, and looked around. Frank and Amelia were busily chatting with the last of the guests, and Sharon was standing between them, staring at the cranberry bush In the courtyard. "There is something," she said quietly. She motioned for me to follow her and we walked down the sidewalk just out of earshot of the rest of the small crowd.
Annie was a tiny women, about five feet tall, and maybe ninety pounds. She had long blonde hair that hung in a thick braid down her back. She was wearing a simple black tunic blouse over black leggings and she looked more like someone on the way to a rock concert then a mourner at a funeral.
She seemed nervous. She stood with her back to the others, and constantly looked over her shoulder as she spoke. "I need to talk to you," she said, "about Grandpa."
"Okay."
"Not here. Do you know a place called The Coffee Bean?"
I said I did.
"Good. We should be through at the cemetery by noon.. I'll have to stay with the family for a little while. Can you meet me there at two?"
"Sure," I said, intrigued.
"Thanks. I really owe you one."
Annie rushed off to rejoin her family, leaving me to wonder just why she owed me one.
Schuyler, who had been talking to Amelia all this time, shook her hand and walked to where I was standing.
"What was that all about?"
"I have no idea," I said.
Schuyler pressed a key into my hand. "I've got to get going," he said. "I'll be home about six-thirty. That's my only key so you better be there to let me in."
He kissed me good-bye and headed off toward his car.
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