Chapter 23
23
That night, I finally got around to emptying my suitcases. I made piles of clean versus dirty clothes and a pile of fishing gear to go back out in the garage. My cell rang.
“Violet? Hi, this is Mrs. Ostranski.”
Oh, shit.
“Hi, Mrs. O. How are you?”
“Fine. Fine, sweetheart. Listen, Violet. I'm with Goldie and Veronica at the store. We were talking about how lovely that necklace you got from Bob was. Goldie was thinking it might be something your sister could wear with that new dress she bought.”
Mrs. O didn't sound right. This was the first time she’d called me. Ever. And she never called me 'sweetheart.' Besides, what was Goldie thinking that Veronica would like the necklace? My sister didn't even own a dress, let alone want to wear one. Unless she was going to be taking communion classes or entering a convent, Veronica would not want to wear a necklace with a large cross dangling from it.
I needed to test the situation. “I didn't know she got a new dress. She's such a clothes horse.”
“Your sister certainly got the high maintenance genes in the family.” Mrs. O laughed shrilly.
Something was officially wrong. Way wrong. She was telling me that and it came through loud and clear. At least to me. Veronica's idea of high maintenance was getting the oil changed on her plumbing van every three thousand miles.
“Goldie and I would love to see the necklace again and show Veronica. Do you think you can bring it to the store so we can see it?”
“Right now?” I asked. The clock on the wall said eight-thirty.
“Right now would be perfect.”
Someone was there who wanted the necklace. They could have it. I hadn't wanted it in the first place. Jubal had said the FBI was going to contact me. I guess they found Goldie and Mrs. O instead. If something wasn't right, though, I needed to tell someone where I was going.
“But, Mrs. O, Mike is supposed to stop by.” Not. He probably was still in New York.
She must have covered the phone with her hand because I heard muffled voices for a moment. “Mike won't care about girl talk. Just send him a text to meet you later.”
“No problem. I'll see you in a few.”
After I hung up, I dashed to my closet for some clean clothes. I pulled out the first things I grabbed, a pair of brown shorts, an MSU T-shirt, pink hoodie. I didn't think now was the time to prove I was the high-maintenance one in the family.
I called Mike first thing. Voicemail.
“Oz, it's me. Listen, something weird is going on at Goldilocks.” I rummaged through my toiletry case for the necklace, found it tangled around a tube of toothpaste. “Not the usual kind of strange. Your mother is there and saying Veronica is going to wear a dress and they want to see the necklace Jubal gave me. I guess the FBI has been talking to Jubal again.” I took a deep breath. “I wanted you to know because something's not right. Okay. You're probably in New York and when you get this I'll be laughing over drinks with your mom about some stupid prank she and Goldie are pulling on me. Whatever.” I found my keys and dashed for the car, necklace dangling from my fingers. “Never mind. Have a nice life.”
I clicked off and drove the ten blocks to the store. Living downtown had its perks. Convenience to all the activities on Main Street and, tonight, to Goldilocks. After riding in the clown car for a week, my older model Audi felt like a stretch limo.
Ten minutes after hanging up on Mrs. O, I walked through the doors of the town's only adult store. I'd only been through the doors as a temporary employee, never a customer. I didn't need Goldie knowing my secrets. That was what the Internet was for. Although, writing a romance novel certainly laid all that out there and my secrets were exposed to not just Goldie, but now the entire world.
The store was small but packed full of sexual treasures. It was tacky, gaudy and so perfectly Goldie. Black and gold industrial carpet like you'd see in Vegas on the floor. A painting of a naked woman on a bearskin rug over the counter. A small chandelier over my head. It wasn't Macy's.
Behind the counter were Veronica and Goldie. On the glass display case was George the Gnome, smiling, clearly happy to see me. Standing next to the section of bachelorette items was Mrs. O. She wore a pair of crisp khakis and a pale pink blouse. A soft yellow scarf was artfully wound around her neck.
Next to her was Laurel. He wasn't as put together. He wore a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee and a red sweatshirt with Alabama written in white letters across the chest. Hardy was nowhere in sight. No customers.
“Violet, I'm so glad you're here,” Mrs. O said, her smile brittle, but she seemed calm enough.
I looked between the ladies. All were stiff, formal. Definitely not the usual carefree environment.
Laurel stepped forward, looked at me, and glanced over his shoulder at Veronica. “She's right. You are twins. You're the one I'm looking for. There was a mix-up with the necklaces and it seems you still have the real one.”
I felt the heavy weight of the jewelry in my hoodie pocket.
“Mix-up?”
Laurel pointed at Goldie. “It seems when this woman here compared the two necklaces that day at Mr. Jgorgen's house, she switched the two back.”
“It was an accident,” Goldie said innocently. “Could have happened to anybody.”
Probably not. Goldie could take something as simple as a necklace swap and turn it into a complete fiasco. It was no big deal. I'd just trade necklaces back. So why was everyone so tense?
“Sure. Just give me the replica and we'll switch it out.”
Laurel's eyes were dark brown. Shifty. There was something I saw in them that was more than just an FBI flub. “I don't have it with me right now, so I'll have to send it to you. Give me the original piece and I can be on my way.”
I felt like I was in a standoff at the O.K. Corral. Goldie and Veronica stood quietly watching. Mrs. O was über-observant as if she were waiting for something.
Why was the FBI wearing an Alabama sweatshirt? Laurel and Hardy hadn't worn suits in Alaska, but they also hadn't proclaimed their allegiance to a college on their chest either. Wasn't the museum that was robbed in Alabama?
“I couldn't find it. I must not have packed it in my suitcase.”
Laurel looked like he was going to stroke out. His face was red, the veins on his neck bulged. “You don't have it? Then where the hell is it?”
This was not the tone, nor the look, of an FBI agent.
“Mike probably has it.”
“Your fiancé?”
I nodded. Darting a glance at Mrs. O, she too, nodded, but at me.
“Why don't you call him, Violet? See if he can bring it in,” Mrs. O suggested. Her expression was unreadable but, if she said it, then she wanted me to call him.
I pulled my cell from my pocket, keeping the necklace hidden.
“Violet, what the hell is going on?” Mike yelled when he picked up. I winced because he came through loudly. I hadn't heard his voice since Alaska and, even with his angst, it sounded good. At least I knew he was alive.
I backed up a step to stand next to the dusting powders. “I'm at Goldilocks and the FBI is here to pick up the necklace I left with you. I guess there was a mix-up. Again.”
“Vi, I don't have?—”
I cut him off. “I know you don't have time to come down here, but since you have the necklace, it would be really helpful.” I couldn't tell him I had a man on the edge standing directly in front of me. Why hadn't Mrs. O karate chopped him yet? Did he have a gun? A knife? It didn't appear so, but the guy seemed imbalanced enough to proceed carefully.
Mike was quiet for a minute. “Shit, Vi. Either you've lost your mind or something's up. Look, I just landed. I'll do what I can.”
He clicked off.
What the hell did that mean? I'll do what I can. Landed where? Was he in New York? Bozeman?
“Well?”
“He's in New York.” I said that with the hopes of delaying this Looney Tune long enough for Mike to catch on we needed the full-blown cavalry.
“New York?” Laurel ran his fingers through his hair, paced in circles. Stopped. “Look, lady. You're coming with me. Your boyfriend?—”
“Fiancé,” Goldie, Veronica and Mrs. O all said at the same time.
“—Fiancé is going to have to trade it for you.”
I took another step back, my heart rate kicking up. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. “Who are you? You're definitely not the FBI.” I pointed down his body.
“I knew those IDs and badges were fake,” Goldie muttered.
Laurel must have finally had enough. Before my eyes, he switched from reasonably calm to irate and very dangerous. He pulled a gun from behind his back. Where had it been, tucked in his waistband? “The necklace was an easy mark. Just go in, swap the replica with the original and be done. But no. My wife Shireen had to get even with me for fooling around with my dental hygienist by selling it to what's-his-face in Alaska.”
“That's the best DEFCON ONE I've heard yet,” Goldie murmured, arms raised.
Veronica nodded her agreement. I didn't say it, but I thought so, too.
“Huh?” Laurel was stumped. He scratched his head with his free hand.
He wasn't the best bad guy, more over his head than evil. But a loose cannon with a gun was extra dangerous, so we all needed to be extra careful. Especially me, since the gun was pointed my way.
“Your wife sold Bob the real necklace?” Mrs. O asked, her voice calm, hands out by her sides.
“It was listed as a replica online, but she sent the real deal to fuck with me. We're divorcing—said I'm a cheating bastard—and wanted to have one last joke on me.”
If he really was a cheating bastard, Shireen did good. If he weren’t standing in front of us having a nervous breakdown, we'd be cheering for her.
“So you went to Alaska to get it back,” Veronica said.
Laurel turned to look at her, waved the gun around. “Yeah. Easy as pie. I just dragged my brother along to look like we were with the FBI. But then this woman had to meddle”—he pointed the gun at Goldie—“and mix the original and the fake. Again.”
Goldie didn't look very contrite for her mistake, or overly concerned by the weapon. In fact, she looked like she was going to call Shireen and ask her why she married him at all.
“Where's your brother?” I looked around for Hardy, hoping he wasn't hiding in the dildo section with his own weapon.
“I killed him.”
Everyone froze. So did my heart for a beat or two. All of his focus was on me. Shit. This wasn't good. “W...why?”
“Because he knew too much. Wanted part of the cut.”
“Cut? It's just a pewter necklace. It can't be worth killing over.”
Laurel rolled his eyes. “Ever wonder why it's so heavy?”
Yes, actually, I did.
“There's a ruby hidden between the two pieces of pewter that makes up the cross. Jefferson Davis had it tucked in there for safekeeping. Insurance if the war took a bad turn.”
The war had taken a turn for him, being on the losing side and all, but it must not have been bad enough to pull out the gem.
“Jefferson Davis' wife wore a cross with a hidden ruby in it?”
“Yes, ma'am,” Laurel said, his true southern accent coming out. “And I want it. You're coming with me until it's time to trade.”
Lesson number one in self-defense. Never go off with someone who's dangerous—and armed. You go with them, you die. Just like Hardy.
“You can't take me.” I shook my head as I said it.
Laurel cocked an eyebrow as if to say 'really?' “And why is that?”
“Because...because...um...I'm having a baby.”
“It's true, she is,” Goldie said, nodding her head vehemently. “So don't get up in her grill like that.”
“You wouldn't want to harm a baby, would you?” Veronica asked.
“No, ma'am. But then your man will run a little faster if he knows his woman and his baby are in jeopardy.” He looked down at my belly.
“Then how do you know we're not messing with you? Maybe she's really the one who was in Alaska, not me.” I pointed at Veronica, stalling.
My sister looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. “It's true. It could have been me. How can you tell? Mike's a hot guy. Maybe we'll both have him. We could switch back and forth and he'd never know.”
Okay, that was a little gross.
“Jesus, you guys are nuts,” Laurel said, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked between us as if trying to figure out who was really who.