Alex Ames - Calendar Moonstone 01 - A Brilliant Plan (12 page)

“Mr. Lee, long time, no see.”

He pulled the magnifying glass from his eye and finally looked at me. Still the same indefinable age, still no gray hair and always the very same beige Charlie Chan style of suit that would have done Tom Wolfe proud. And of course, the same unreadable face. I had learned to read his posture and hands instead. He gave his stones one last glance and pushed the velvet cushion to the side.

“What can I do for you, Miss Calendar?”

“I have a nice collection of the finest diamonds. Best source, most promising quality.”

He laid his hands flat on the table. “Origin?”

“Unknown, you know me,” I gave him a nice Western bullshit smile.
 

Still the impassive look but he folded his hands left over right, right over left. “I am afraid that my hands are tied this time.”

“Why is that? We have done good business before and you never had any reasons to complain. I never offered you red hot stuff.” We never talked about hot stuff because that was what we both dealt in. But ‘red hot stuff’ was a little more difficult to deal with, since the gems were either renowned in the gem community or the former owner was pissed off and wanted to get his goods back. Although I was often tempted to look out for famous stones, as a good thief, you tried to avoid these two cases. But I would never fence red-hot stones with Chong or any other West Coast connection and for that only went through Yehova in Philadelphia.

Again, Chong folded his hands several times. Uncomfortable. “There is word around not to trade. Temporarily.”

“Like a general freeze?”

“Yes. Yes, something general.”

“Like from high above,” I steered him.

“Yes, very much so.” He closed his eyes a little more. “You surely must have heard.”

“That I did,” I imitated his hands to show him that I had him figured out and looked him in the eyes. “Chong, we didn’t do too much business over the years because I prefer to deal with the East Coast. I would be willing, as a gesture, to give you a very good price, makes it worth more for you.” Usually, the type of deal that we made was for comfortable margins on all sides to cover the risks of our trade. But people like Chong were traders at heart and they lived and died for a better margin.
 

His hands grew a little more agitated; his fingers did a little drumming, finally found the pincers again and gladly played with them. “I really appreciate that generous offer, Calendar, you know I do. But please understand my situation. If any word were to get out that I did business against the current market conditions, my business as a whole would suffer.”

“No exception for an old associate? It would be just between you and me,” I tried.

He looked down, torn between danger and greed but danger won. He gave a small shake of the head.

I pounded my fist on the desk and he jumped a little. Then I said softly, “Excuse me, but I see that the decision is very difficult for you. I understand your overall concern.” I gave a small nod that would count as a bow; I would need to deal with him in the future.

“Just tell me one last thing. Was my name specifically mentioned regarding this general…
 
trading embargo?”

Chong shook his head again. “No, Calendar, just a strong hint from above to cease all trading of stones for a while. Until further notice.”

“And the word came with authority?”

He nodded. “The authority we are talking about is beyond reach for a small time trader like me. In this situation, if you want to remain in this business in the future, you generally obey.”

I gave Chong a small nod to indicate that I understood. We sat motionless for a minute, each of us considering our options. For me, there was always the ocean. For the stones, not me.

I changed the subject. “Something completely different. Are you aware of any special Altward Gallery dealings or rumors? Any big artists, discoveries or non-kosher activities?”

A small ambiguous smile played around Chong’s face. I could read it either as irony or as pity. “A not so different subject altogether, my dear.” He said. “Be assured, Mr. Altward is a very honest gallery owner, beyond reproach. He is doing a lot of good for the San Diego art and jewelry community. The theft and murder in his gallery left most of us shocked.”

I had asked about the Altward Gallery in general, he had given the answer for Mr. Altward specifically.

“What about his own current activities?”

“He is preparing something spectacular, or so I heard.” Chong folded his fingers again and continued, “You do know that Thomas Cornelius, the big collector from the East, is in town?”

“We have met at the gallery.” Chong didn’t know, of course, that Thomas Cornelius III was the man that scared him out of his wits as ‘The Fence.’
 

“It is rumored that Altward and Cornelius are preparing the presentation, or let us say rediscovery, of something spectacular,” Chong Lee said.

“Did they acquire the British crown jewels?” I asked skeptically.

“No one is really sure but some of my sources told me that they both did a lot of traveling to Mexico during the last year.”

“Is there a Max involved?”

Chong shook his head. “I don’t know. There are just rumors. And it has to be big. Otherwise Thomas Cornelius wouldn’t bother with our market, would he?”
 

“Is that ‘thing’ they are preparing legal?”
 

Chong folded his hands, caught me glancing at them and then put them back down flat on the table.
 

“Maybe, maybe not.”

THE DRIVE BACK to the House of the Moon gave me some time to think. I wasn’t in desperate need of the money, so I could hold on to the stones for a while and simply wait it out. I could keep them in my hidey-hole until kingdom come. Maybe help Ron and Juanita solve their murder. So far, so easy. The thing that worried me the most was the fact that Thomas ‘The Fence’ Cornelius III and his minions had me pegged for the crime and thought that I had stolen something special. He was turning the heat on, trying to flush me out. This was generally the first stage, blocking all traffic. But even Thomas would need to trade again soon or he would jeopardize his own network. His next step would be to resume trading but block me from it. He had the power to do that, for sure. If I sat still for a while longer, his patience would eventually run out completely and he would start getting physical, forget the old relationship we had. Better not think of that.

It had to be something big that Thomas was after; otherwise, he wouldn’t risk his network at all. But I still didn’t get it. The diamonds I nicked were a simple commodity, available in any jewelry store around the world, in any diamond dealership, from any decent diamond trader.
 

I parked in front of my parent’s house and got out, locking the car. I hadn’t noticed the brownish Oldsmobile parked on the other side of the street. My eyes registered the movement and I looked over to see Billy Bounce, the dumb executor, walking over to me, holding something furry in his giant hands. This time he was alone. The thin slimy man from yesterday’s encounter was nowhere to be seen.

Billy’s voice was a mean mumble, as if he had problems opening his mouth properly or his brains couldn’t coordinate the muscles necessary to form the words. “Miss Moo’shn.” Him being polite somehow didn’t make a difference.

I safely retreated behind the garden door of the House of the Moon, as if it gave any protection against a brute like Billy. I slightly regretted being a non-carrying pacifist.

He approached the garden door. “Me boss want s’mth’g you…
 
got.”

I stared at the small cat in his hands purring away happily, his big index finger stroking it between the ears.

“Whoever your boss is, tell your boss that I don’t have what he wants.” Then I got a sudden inspiration and added, “The Fence should look at Andrew Altward a little more closely. He has something to hide.” My, what a feeble attempt to confuse the opposition, Calendar girl.
 

Billy looked at me with an almost sad expression; I wasn’t sure whether anything that I said registered in his pea-sized brain. If in doubt, repeat. “Excuse me, Miss. Me boss wants something you got. You know what you got.”
 

“Then tell your boss to forget it or come in person.” More courage delivered than felt.

Billy took the cat in two hands and twisted its neck until it broke with an audible crunch, the cat not even beginning the meow it had breathed in to make. He held out the quivering dead body in his open palms to emphasize his message.

Since I needed all my oxygen not to faint in the garden, I didn’t have time to fill my lungs with enough air to scream. The killing of the cat had been delivered so matter-of-factly; I just stood there rooted to the ground, not comprehending the situation.
 

Billy had already turned and walked across the street. He passed the neighbors trash can, pulled open the lid and threw in the dead cat. He got in behind the wheel of the Oldsmobile and started the car.

I heard the front door opening and my father calling out, “Calendar, is that you?”
 

I couldn’t answer, just nodded. Dad stepped out of the kitchen, went down the small front garden and put an arm around me; I held his big bear paw and pulled him close. We looked after the Oldsmobile until it was turning at a corner further down the hill, finally out of sight.
 

“Come on in,” Dad said without further comment or inquiry. I walked by his side, weak kneed.

IF I LOVE any one thing about my dad, it is the fact that from our early childhood, he treated my sister and me as full human beings. When the Moonstone family left the commune and Sunny and I entered real life and the public school system, we ran into quite a culture shock with the superficiality of our peers, the twisted pretenses of schoolmates and, of course, the violence, both physical and psychological. It would have been easy for our parents to mediate each school conflict we bought home with teachers or other parents but Dad insisted that it was up to Sunny and me to solve the conflicts on our own. If we asked Mom or Dad for help, they would give it, but not earlier. Sunny and I developed nice independent minds that way and maybe a hard shell, too.
 

Therefore, I was not astonished that Dad treated the episode as just another Calendar conflict, solvable by her alone. No flippant remarks, no nosey questions.

We walked through the house and into the large back garden where Mom was sitting under the tree, deep into some yoga exercises.
 

“You want to join us?” Dad asked.
 

“You are into yoga, lately?” I managed to ask coherently after I swallowed a few sips of green tea lemonade.
 

“Not any more than you are,” Dad smiled his distant smile. I could see that he was torn between his way of giving his daughters free rein and his duty as a helpful dad.
 

I settled in an ancient deck chair made of driftwood and enjoyed the autumn sun. Dad resumed his book and Mom stretched herself in meditation.

After my nerves had steadied themselves and my heartbeat was back down to normal, I took another swig of ice tea lemonade to see if my hands were in working order. They were.

I sat up and asked, “Where is everyone?”

“Sun and the kids are at Sea World,” Dad sighed. “Probably another way of rebelling against her parents.”
 

“Dad, come on. Keith and Jen are growing up as regular Americans. They just want to have fun and Sea World is as much fun as it can get.”

Dad gave me a long look. “How many times have you been to Sea World or similar parks?”

“Never, I can’t stand to see these beautiful creatures in those bleak surroundings, turning tricks for food.”

“See, with you, our education of basic ethic nature values worked out. With Sunny, it didn’t.”

I hated it when Dad was right, but I had given up fighting Sunny’s Americanization. I sat back again enjoying the garden, Mom and Dad were not making conversation. Suspiciously quiet.

Oh, dammit, I almost forgot. “Where is my boyfriend?”

Dad couldn’t suppress a smile, my parents had the ways and intuition of the KGB and CIA combined. “Your Mundy told me to give you this and he thanked us profoundly for our hospitality.” Dad took out a folded note from his book and handed it to me.
 

‘Dear Callie, thanks for the nice Thanksgiving. Have to work today for the Monday edition of
Redondo Daily
. Regards to your Mom and Dad, Sunny and the kids. They make a great family to marry into. See you around, LOL, Mun.’

“He is gone and he gives his regards,” I simply stated, trying to underplay the situation.

“Is it serious between you and him?” Mom asked from upside down, knotted in a strange yoga-position. No escape.

“Mom, you will be invited to the wedding.”

“Sunny and Mundy make a much nicer pair.”

“You want to test my level of jealousy, Mom?”

“Mundy is a nice fellow. But he is a little bit too…
 
‘Normal’ for your taste. But Sunny and Mundy would be a good fit. Makes a good combination, journalist and lawyer. He pleads the fifth to protect his source and she bails him out.”

“Wouldn’t that have made a great Redford/Streisand movie in the seventies?” Dad said from behind his book, his mouth and eyes hidden from us.

“You didn’t go to the movies once in the seventies!” I exclaimed.

“Weeeelll, you know… ” Dad shifted in his seat.

“We sneaked out of the commune without you hippies noticing,” Mom said, still upside down.

“Really? Don’t shatter my world.”

And when Mom and Dad didn’t answer, “Come on, you did?”

Then both of them started to laugh, Mom crumbling into a heap from her yoga headstand. I crossed my arms and started sulking. “I will pass on Mundy’s number when he and I are through.”

“Don’t be so sarcastic about it. Don’t you love Mundy?” Mom got up and stretched.