Alex Ames - Calendar Moonstone 01 - A Brilliant Plan (34 page)

“No, I simply left her there,” Benito lied unconvincingly; he was trying to make it sound more like an accident. Just like Altward did with her father.
 

“You killed her,” Ron stated.

“No,” I said, tired. “It was me who killed Phoebe, somehow.”

“Explain please.” Ron commanded.

“When I talked with Benito the first time, I mentioned my observation of the necklace. That made him start adding things up and decide to meet with Phoebe.” I looked at him and he nodded weakly.

“That son of a bitch Altward. We guarded the Maximilian Jewels very carefully, not to leak details to the community. It was supposed to be a ‘whisper,’ something the big collectors spoke in hushed tones at gallery openings and auctions. And there Phoebe was, exhibiting the stones like a simple fashion piece, according to your description. She was endangering the mission.”

The mission, killing for the mission, he sounded like something out of a bad Tom Cruise movie.

“You thought that Phoebe had stolen the stones?”

“It crossed my mind, yes. Altward had told me that they had been taken during the heist. Phoebe was trying to talk it off but she didn’t deny that she had worn them. How was I to know that Altward himself had taken the jewels in order to do his own little business? Phoebe wouldn’t tell me a thing. She thought my whole visit was ridiculous and unnecessary. Which it probably was. But we had put so much effort into the plan and I was mad about the fact that it was unraveling, the break-in at the gallery, the dead night watchman, and the jewels missing. And I was sure that somehow Phoebe was the link to the jewels.” He looked at us, pleadingly. “But you must understand, please, it was an accident.”

“Doesn’t sound like that to me, you enraged and all,” Ron remarked dryly to flush Benito out more.

“I argued with her, she feigned innocence, even laughed at me and my suspicion. And slapped me when I got physical. We fought and she died.”

“And did you find the Maximilian pieces in her apartment?”

“Of course not. There wasn’t a trace. She was dead and I found out that she must have spoken the truth, she had given the necklace back to Altward after all.”

“How did you find her in Newport?”

“After Calendar left me and I had done my math, I called Phoebe. I had her number because Altward had called her cell phone several times from my line. I reached her in Newport and this is where we arranged to meet the same day in the afternoon.”

“Was she part of the plan, did she play a part in ‘the mission?’”

Benito shook his head. “No, she was Altward’s girl, that’s all.”

“Who took part in your little sting?” Ron asked.

“Stephano Toledo and myself. I had the idea in the early stages of my thesis research. We contacted the artist to produce the jewels. He received a good fee for his silence.”

“And got killed for it?”

Benito shook his head. “We will probably never know. All I do know is that I was definitely not involved. And Stephano himself is dead.”

How convenient for both of you crooks.

“What about Altward and Faulkner? Were they in on the fake?” Ron got back on track.
 

“No, that was the beauty of it. From their perspective, they were dealing with the real Maximilian Jewels, arranging the deal with some collectors. It was shady, they knew it and their provision was accordingly. Stephano knew Faulkner from earlier. He brought them in. That’s it.”

“What about the artist, Ignacio Hermosa? He knew about it?”

“Don’t know his degree of involvement, we will probably never know.”

“You didn’t know that Ignacio Hermosa was killed shortly after delivering the jewelry?”

“No, I wasn’t involved in the details of the Max production at all. Just saw the results. Stephano later sent me the link to the news-stories on the net.”

“Anyone else involved? Any other names we should know?” Ron looked up from his notes.

Benito shook his head and I was relieved that Thomas’ name hadn’t come up.
 

“What did you do after you killed Phoebe and searched the apartment?”

“Nothing, I took a dish towel and wiped the places where I thought I had touched something. And then I left.”

“Then why dump her body into the ocean?” Ron asked.

“I didn’t.”

A thought occurred to me. “What is Paul Faulkner’s role in this great jewelry swindle?”

Gotcha! Benito started moving on his seat even more. “He was involved, of course.”

“Did you call him after you had killed… ”

“I told you it was an accident!” Benito protested.

For the sake of argument, Ron continued, “After Phoebe had died in that accident? Did you call Faulkner?”

Silence.

“Come on!” Ron led him a little bit. “The thing is, we are pretty weak on evidence of Mr. Faulkner’s involvement in this case. Your statement could help us to build a better case. And the judge would look favorably on that.” Ron dripped honey by the pound, favorable judges, my ass!
 

After a few more moments of silence, Benito sighed. “Yes, you are right, I called Faulkner afterwards. He told me to leave everything as it was, get out of Newport, and back to L.A. in order to get a good alibi.”

“And you followed that advice?” Ron asked.

“I did. And that was that. The next thing I heard of Phoebe was when her body washed ashore.”

The interview had gone too far already without proper procedures. Ron formally arrested Benito, read him his rights and handcuffed him. Benito clammed up right away. We sat around until the press conference was over and we were able to break up our little group without attracting too much attention. At police headquarters, they continued to question Benito and a lawyer was soon involved. Ron and Juanita were fidgety because the case we had against Benito was pretty weak. But it appeared that his bad conscience had won out and he stuck with his accident-story from before.
 

Ron personally took my statement while Juanita was preparing the paperwork for Benito’s arraignment. Rather formal on both sides, I told what I had deducted, and what I had seen today. Ron took it down, poked here and there for details, no smiles and no personal words between us. A certain kind of spark was missing. It was early evening when we finally finished, already dark outside. Ron took me to a sports bar a few doors down near the Gaslight Quarter. The crowd was strictly after-work people and some tourists thrown in but no tables or booths were left. We sat down at the bar, mounted our stools silently, studied the menu, and then ordered brew and food.

To make at least a little small talk and help over the awkward atmosphere, I began. “How are things from your perspective, Ron?”

“Not too bad. Benito sticks with his accident version, which we both know is the way he wants us to see his deed. But we just got started with the case. The crime scene unit will fine-comb Altward’s Newport apartment. Blood patterns, the fight choreography, residue. And the findings will collaborate with Benito’s story or they will prove murder. And the more lies we find, the less the jury will like our little criminal historian. Maybe we can play Altward against Benito against Faulkner and see who dishes up more dirt. We just started. The cases get stronger from here on as we now know what to look for and what questions to ask.”

“You think Faulkner dumped Phoebe’s body into the ocean?”

Ron eyed the television where we could watch the press conference and the handing over with subtitles. “Either Faulkner. Or Billy Bounce.”

“Why him?” I asked, slightly confused.

“He could be Faulkner’s executioner. Billy was the one going after Altward. And who else could have given him the orders?”

I mulled that over. I always had Billy Bounce as working for Thomas Cornelius and somehow it seemed that my old revenge-love-hate relationship with Thomas had clouded my judgment. Ron was right, Faulkner as Billy Bounce’s boss made sense. So did other players. “Billy could work for one of the potential buyers, too,” I pointed out. “Like for our friend, ‘The Japanese.’”

Ron gave a quick smile at me. “Wait just a little longer and we may find out. The case is cracked and is cracking further open by the minute.”

“My patience with mysteries has run out on this case,” I said, tired. I felt sick to the bones. All this killing.

Our food arrived and we busied ourselves with it for a while. I thought about home. It suddenly appealed to me tremendously, Redondo, the beach, my neglected business and Mrs. Otis. And Mundy taking me to dinner, still hoping for a foot in the door.

“Do you think it could still work out for us?” Ron asked, shaking me out of my dream state.
 

I looked at him and his still very handsome and sexy face. Mom’s words rang in my ears, “A good man to let your guard down with.” But then, what had she known about all the background noise.
 

Ron waited patiently for an answer but I didn’t give him the satisfaction. I put away my fork and my napkin, straightened my hair and stood up. Went out of the restaurant. Out of his life.

SPRING IS HERE again. Shortly after the Maximilian affair, I was offered a new commission. Some European royalty needed something spectacular for their daughter’s engagement with another future royal head of state. It kept me busy for a little while, allowed me to immerse myself into work, work, work, forgetting all the bad things that had been happening in my life lately. Working for hours without end made me realize what was truly important in my life, what I liked. I visited Mom and Dad over Christmas and even took that dreaded short trip to visit Sunny and the kids in Dallas during the convention in February.

Andrew Altward, Paul Faulkner and Benito Salanca were all awaiting trial. Altward was looking at ten years jail time for manslaughter; Benito Salanca twenty years for murder, the pre-trial judge hadn’t really bought the accident story, especially after the crime techs found the bathtub evidence I had seen with my own eyes. Faulkner made a deal with the state, accessory to manslaughter, two years. Billy Bounce had to spend a year in a California state prison for the stunt he pulled in San Diego. They had tried to tie him to the Mexico City murder of Ignacio Hermosa but it didn’t come through; there was not enough evidence. Billy was professional through and through and he never told anyone whom his employer was.

Ron hasn’t called once. We were over each other.

The Maximilian Jewels were stolen from the Museum of History in March, after one month on public display. The scandal flew cloud-high. The loss of the newly found treasure of Mexican collective memory. A bold break-in had managed to bypass all the security measures and removed the Maximilian Jewels. ‘How could this happen?’ had been the choir of the national and international media. ‘Inside job, again’ had been the rumor in the investigative papers. Director Pedro Vasolar, already in the process of handing over the museum business to his successor, lost his job faster than anticipated. Serves him right to have made it so easy for me.

To top it all, it turned out that the Maximilian Jewels had been specifically excluded from the insurance coverage of the museum. I did not receive a thank-you note from Fowler Wynn. But I did not receive a visit from the local police with him in tow, either. We were even on this one.

Thomas Cornelius sent me a thank-you note and a little package, delivered by a courier. It contained one perfectly cut DeBeers diamond of the highest quality, five carats, so pure and so white, the true definition of a ‘gem.’ Something I always had a good use for. And my favorite charity was uberhappy over a large donation, a very large donation, received by an unknown benefactor

I visited Phoebe Eastman’s grave and placed a flower on the headstone. I didn’t kill her but I was instrumental in trigging the events that led to her death. We had only met once, briefly, and I hadn’t had a relationship with her. By exposing Benito as her murderer, I probably reduced my guilt a little bit. But no matter how I rationalized it, I could not, would not call us…
 
even. Her dead face under plastic wrap in my nightmares made sure of that.

And thus became a part of me.

###

Thank you…

…for taking the time to read this book. Personally, I have the policy to stop reading a book if I am not hooked after the first fifty pages. You made it this far, so I assume that I passed this test.

If you enjoyed Calendar’s adventures, please shout it from the rooftops or recommend the book to family and friends and maybe give me a “Like” on my author facebook page. And buy my next book!

E-Mail: [email protected]

Web:
 
http://alex-ames-writing.blogspot.com

About the author:

Alex Ames always dreamed but never dared to become a famous jewelry thief or computer hacker or super spy. After some consideration the only morally feasible option was to become a writer and create „To Catch a Thief meets Stephanie Plum”.

He is the author of the “Brilliant - Calendar Moonstone” cat burglar adventures and the “Troubleshooter - Paul Trouble” corporate thrillers.