Анна Керн - Deadly Diamond

“Okay, getting back to what I was saying … here’s what I’m thinking. What if he––this Mark Merkley––stole that diamond from Hall’s and hid it in the desk in our shop, intending to get it later when the heat was off, except we delivered the desk to Althea. He could have been watching and saw where it went.”

“And he went back later to get his diamond and killed Althea in the process,” finished Maggie.

“Exactly. So you think it could have happened that way?”

“It could have, except it sounds too much like the predictable plot of a bad mystery novel.”

Alyx bit her lower lip, “Yeah, I guess it does at that.”

“Besides, how can you approach the police with just a theory? Don’t they have to have evidence before they can investigate?”

Alyx shrugged.

“Did you let on that you recognized him when you were in the bank today?”

“Not outwardly. Don’t worry I’m not going to do anything foolish. Not where that’s concerned anyway. I’m going to tell Smarts about recognizing him, and about the behavior of the man who came in the store after the robbery and who I think he is. Right now, it’s just speculation on my part that he killed Althea, and Smarts may come to that same conclusion. No question though, I do think he stole the diamond.”

Alyx then called Detective Smarts regarding Mark Merkley, the alleged diamond thief. He asked her to come into the station to file a formal statement. I was delighted that she decided to take me along.

At the station, I expected a cool reception and wasn’t disappointed. Smarts practically hissed when he saw me trailing behind Alyx.

“Why didn’t you give us this information about this Merkley character earlier, Ms. Hille?”

“It didn’t occur to me then.”

“What made you think of it now?”

“I guess it was because of his behavior today in the bank for one. I used to make our bank deposits at least three times a week for more than two years, and he––this Merkley fellow––always said hello. I haven’t been making the deposits recently, so I haven’t been in the bank very often and therefore haven’t seen him. Today when I was there with my son, and I saw him, I remembered that he had been in my store the day of the diamond robbery. Secondly, you don’t usually see men in suits wearing dress shoes with no socks, and I remembered that the guy who came in the store after the robbery also wore brown shoes with tassels and no socks.”

“So you think we should question him based on what you just told me.”

“Look, I had information and I gave it to you. You do what you want with it.” She grabbed the purse she’d slung across the back of her chair and walked out, her cheeks red.

Back at the shop, customers continued to trickle in all evening. I sat on the counter carefully monitoring the comings and goings, on the lookout for Mark Merkley.

David Hunter called for Alyx and left a message on the answering machine in the workroom. The message was the same as the one he’d left on the answering machine at home and probably on her cell phone––asking her to call him.

Alyx hesitated a moment, took a deep breath and then called him. I was close enough to hear him say he was hoping to have dinner with her and she could pick the place.

“How about dinner at my house?” she suggested, “Nothing fancy. I’ll make spaghetti and a salad.”

“Okay, I’ll bring the wine and, Alyx…did I tell you how beautiful you looked the other night?”

Her eyes softened. “Yes, several times,” she said.

The bright red-orange glow must have drawn Alyx to the screened porch. The western sky was ablaze with the setting sun. At first glance, one might have thought that the woods in the distance were on fire.

Hunter arrived promptly at six. He uncorked the wine and filled two glasses, while Alyx served a simple dinner of mixed salad greens, spaghetti with homemade tomato sauce and garlic bread sticks.

She let him do most of the talking during dinner, telling her funny stories about other masked balls and charity events he’d attended. Their conversation touched mostly on the surface of things. They finished dinner, and Hunter deposited the dirty dishes in the sink while Alyx put away the leftovers. He refilled the wine glasses and carried them to the living room. Alyx followed and sat next to him on the couch. For a moment, neither one seemed to know what to do or say.

Alyx spoke first. “David, I agreed to see you because what I have to say needs to be said in person… I think you know I’m attracted to you.” He took her hand, and she pulled it back. “The relationship with your wife…”

“Ex-wife,” he interjected.

“Your relationship with your ex-wife isn’t over, and I don’t want to be involved in a triangle.”

She told him about the encounter at the ball.

“Alyx….”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry David––there can’t be anything serious between us with a third party still involved.”

He reached for his glass, “Joann and I have known each other since grade school; we dated exclusively in high school, and married while still in college. She’s been restless for a long time. She doesn’t want me––she just doesn’t want anyone else to have me. Believe me, Alyx, it’s over between us.”

“That’s just it; I don’t believe it is. You have too much history between you. I’m truly sorry, but I can’t deal with it.”

“So, that’s it, we’re finished?”

“We can see each other as before.”

“Yes, we can do that; see each other once or twice a month for coffee. How long do you think we can do that without giving up?”

“For me, it’s until you’re truly free.”

There was nothing left to say. He nodded silently, his eyes dark with displeasure, maybe a little anger, surely not at her. He drained his wine and stood to leave. She walked him to the door and said goodnight. Closing the door behind her, she leaned her back against it. She turned and quickly pulled the door open expectantly but he was gone.

“A cat has absolute emotional honesty: human beings, for one reason or another, may hide their feelings, but a cat does not.”

–– Ernest Hemingway

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: One Less Suspect

The sun streaming in the bank of windows in the kitchen warmed the chilly tile underfoot, making it comfortable enough to sit and watch Alyx eat her breakfast––a bowl of oatmeal and a handful of vitamins. It wasn’t unusual for the temperature to fluctuate dramatically, and according to the weather forecast, it would rise to the low eighties by noon.

The phone rang; I jumped on the chair next to Alyx and heard Maggie’s excited voice.

“Alyx, have you read the paper, yet?”

“No, I haven’t. Why?”

“Mark Merkley was killed last night.”

“How?” she asked, as she unfolded the paper and scanned each page until she found the article.

“Someone shot him. A neighbor heard the shot and called the police. Read the article and I’ll see you at the store this afternoon.”

“Okay, sweetie, thanks for calling.”

By late afternoon we were all at the shop and Alyx had more information on the shooting. A neighbor of Merkley’s had heard shots fired, and when he looked out the window, he saw a car pull away. He didn’t get the license plate number, only the make and color of the vehicle. Other neighbors said they saw that same car parked in front of Merkley’s house several times during the week, and didn’t see anyone getting in or out of the car.

“I heard that the police interviewed his girlfriend,” Alyx was saying to Maggie, “and she told them he was a gambler, got into a high-stakes poker game here in town, suffered a heavy loss, and borrowed money from a loan shark to pay his debt. Word on the street is that he was killed because he didn’t pay them back.”