Snake in the Glass (10 page)

“Not word one. Fine pair we make, misplacing our relatives like that.”

They had misplaced themselves, deliberately, but I didn’t see any point in mentioning that. “You have time to talk, Frank?”

“If you’ve got a beer handy.”

I went to my fridge and came back with two cold beers, handing him one. He took a long swallow, then turned to me. “Worries?”

I settled myself in a chair and took a long swallow too. “Denis—the professor guy renting my kiln—has asked for more time this week.”

“That a problem?”

“No, not really. I mean, he’s paying me, and I don’t need the color kiln very often, and there are plenty of times when the studio’s available, when I’m not using it. I’m wondering why this is so important to him. I mean, is it just the mystery of stones, or something deeper?”

“Can’t tell you. The stones aren’t worth all that much, unless he makes them turn pink or something, and they still wouldn’t be much more than a novelty then. So no way he’s going to get rich fast with peridot.”

“He said he didn’t have anything to do with the Gem Show this year. But maybe he’s got a buyer lined up, someone who’s in town for the show? Does that fit?”

“Could be. There are plenty of dealers here, and some of them aren’t too careful about their sources. Hard to track gems, sometimes.”

“I hadn’t even considered that aspect. Are you thinking that maybe Denis stole them and he’s trying to disguise them?”

“Ah, Em, don’t be seeing criminals under every rock. Chances are he’s just what he appears to be: an ordinary guy who’s playing around with an idea and has a little time and money to put into it. Wouldn’t be the first to be seduced by pretty stones.”

“I’m still embarrassed that I didn’t know about the local mines. I guess I’ve been so busy in the years since starting up the studio and shop that I’ve never really had time to explore things around here. Heck, I haven’t even seen Tombstone, and that’s just down the road.”

“You know the phrase, ‘All work and no play . . .’?”

“I hear you. Maybe when things settle down again, and I get my staffing sorted out, I can take a little time to play.” I wondered when, if ever, that would happen. Nessa was wonderful, and she knew my wares and she was an excellent salesperson, but she wasn’t getting any younger. Allison had kind of fallen into my lap and luckily had worked out well as a part-timer in the shop, relieving Nessa, but I had never assumed that I could count on her for the long term, and that was before she had pulled this stunt on me in Ireland. I wanted her to build a life of her own, and I wanted her to have options beyond working in a small craft shop. All of which suggested that I should start thinking about finding some long-term prospects for staff. Maybe I could offer an internship. . . .

I think my eyelids must have drifted down. When I opened them again, I could hear Frank in the shower, whistling, and Fred and Gloria were stationed at my feet, looking at me expectantly.

In short order I was making the rounds of the neighborhood with the dogs, and I paused in front of the street-side windows to my studio. Denis was hunched on the stool, rocking slightly back and forth, staring at his notebook as though it held the secrets of the universe. He didn’t look happy. What was so urgent about fiddling with a pile of stones? Something was definitely wrong, but what? And was it any of my business?

The dogs pulled me away then, in search of good smells. When I got back, there was still no word from Cam.

 

 

Wednesday Nessa was in the shop when I came downstairs. “Do you expect that man Denis back again?”

“Looks like it—he said he wants more hours, and he’s burned through a lot already. He’s really in a hurry, although I have no idea why. He was here last night late.”

I immersed myself in my work and gave no more thought to Denis until after lunch, when I found Nessa hanging up the phone in the shop. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Denis’s check bounced.”

“The bank called?” I had made of a point of using a local bank, and Nessa and I were on a first-name basis with most of the tellers.

“They did. Will you talk to him, or shall I?”

“I’ll do it. I’m the one who gave him the go-ahead, and there’s no reason why you should do my dirty work.”

Frankly, I was pissed at Denis for taking advantage of me—and it served me right for taking his check and letting him go ahead. I didn’t like being used.

The guilty party chose that moment to walk in the shop door, looking harried and disheveled. He stopped dead at the sight of the two of us glaring at him. “What?”

“Denis, there’s a little problem with that check you gave me. It bounced.”

He grew a shade paler, something that wasn’t easy to do when you spend any time in the Arizona sun. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry. Look, I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

I tried to feel sorry for him but failed. I was running a business here. “I expect you to. We had an agreement. And I can’t give you any more time until you pay me—cash.”

“I’ll be back, I promise.” With that he turned on his heel and left abruptly.

I turned to Nessa, who said, “That man seems very upset.”

“You’re right. Embarrassed maybe? I suppose if his bank account’s empty he may have good reason to be, but that’s not something I’m supposed to worry about. Maybe this whole gem thing was nothing more than a get-rich-quick scheme. And as far as I know he hasn’t come up with any useful results. Think we’ll see him again, or should we just write him off?”

Nessa smiled. “Maybe he’s gone off to rob a bank, so he can pay you.”

“Heaven forbid! Well, I’ve got work to do. Let me know if you hear from anyone.”

“Like Cam? Still no word from him?”

“Not a peep. I know he’s a big boy, but it’s not like him not to get in touch with me.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Nessa said reassuringly. “I’ll let you know if he calls.” She hesitated before adding, “Nothing new from Allison?”

“Nope. Frank hasn’t heard either?”

“No. Well, there’s not much to be done about it, is there?”

“Sad to say, no. Let me know if things get busy.” I could hope.

I went off to the studio and immersed myself in hot glass—well, not literally. But each time I opened the furnace for a gather, I found myself looking at the little kiln, which still held Denis’s crucibles. I wasn’t about to mess with it. If he really wanted his stones back, I could hold them hostage until he paid me what he owed.

I was still in the studio when Denis reappeared. The man was crumbling fast: now he looked both pasty and sweaty. Without preamble he thrust a handful of crumpled bills at me. “Here. There’s more than $800 there, and I can get you the rest by tomorrow. But I really need to use the kiln. Just a couple more runs. Please?”

I was torn. It seemed so important to him, and it didn’t mean that much to me. I stuck out my hand and took his money. “Okay, but no additional studio time until you pay up. Got that?”

He bobbed his head. “Thank you, thank you. Oh, can I get last night’s batch out now?”

“I guess.” I stood aside, watching him as he took the tongs and extricated a crucible from the kiln. He set it down gently on the metal surface of the marver and stared into its depths.

Then his expression changed. He peered around, then picked up a pair of metal tweezers and poked at the little pile of stones in the crucible. He picked one out and set it reverently on the marver, then turned to me.

“Look at this. Please.”

I moved next to him and looked at the stone he had set apart. It did look darker than it had the day before, but I was no expert. “It’s darker, right?”

“Yeah. But look more closely. Wait.” He fished in his backpack and pulled out a small, high-powered magnifying glass. “Use this.”

I took it from him and held it over the stone, which was suddenly much bigger. “What am I . . . oh.” Yes, the stone was a richer green, but deep inside there was a sort of golden glow. “The gold color?”

“Yes. Yes! I knew it. I knew it was possible. Nobody’s seen anything like this. Em, please, you’ve got to let me have more time with the kiln. This is just the start. I’ll pay you, I promise. When I show people what I’ve done, it’ll be worth plenty. Just a couple of days. Please?”

Now I was on the spot. He had undeniably changed the stone, but I had no idea what that meant—or what it might be worth. It was intriguing, but I had work to do, and he was annoying me. “Listen, Denis. I agree that it looks like you’re onto something, but you still owe me. You come back tomorrow with the balance of what you owe me so far, and we can talk.”

Denis looked like he wanted to burst, but after a long pause he said, “Okay. I’ll be here in the morning. I promise. Oh, and keep this quiet, please?” He swept up his stones, then scurried out the back door like a man chased by demons.

Somehow I was not surprised to find Denis waiting
yet again when I got downstairs on Thursday morning. Mutely he thrust more bills at me. “This should cover it. Can I work today?”

“This morning, I guess. If you want to leave stuff in overnight, that’s okay.”

He nodded, more to himself than to me. “Good, good. Longer seems to work better. I can do that.” Then he focused on me again. “Thank you, Em. I mean it. I’m close, I know it.”

Yeah. Whatever. Still, I’d been paid. I let him into the studio, then went up to say good morning to Nessa. I handed her the wad of bills. “Count this, will you? He says we’re square. But I’m not sure I want him around once he’s used up his first twenty hours.”

The day passed quickly, even without the usual browsers and buyers. I booted Denis out of the studio after lunch, made a few pieces myself, grabbed a bite, took care of the dogs, and worked some more. Finally I straightened up the studio and went around turning things off—the glory holes, the lights. It had been a good day, and things felt almost normal. Maybe I had finally licked the jet lag. I left the kiln on, since I assumed Denis wanted that. I took one last look around, then exited through the front, leaving on only the lowest of security lights in the shop. I made sure the door was locked, then went around the side of the building to the stairs.

I almost jumped out of my skin when a figure materialized out of the dark, and it took me a moment to realize that it was a familiar one. Allison McBride.

“Allison? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” I tried to see her face in the dim light. Did I want to hug her or punch her?

“Oh, Em—I was afraid you’d . . .” She took the decision away from me when she wrapped her arms around me and held on tight.

I realized that I wasn’t really mad, so I hugged back. But I let go before she did. “Why don’t we take this inside? How long have you been back? Where’s your stuff?”

She took the easy answer first, as I fumbled for my keys. “The plane got in a couple of hours ago, and I dropped my bags at my apartment. And then I came straight here.”

I managed to get the door open, only to be swamped by the dogs, who were not in the least interested in me. They swarmed past me to greet Allison, who, to give her credit, knelt down and did right by them. I moved into the room and tossed my keys on the table, and looked up to see Frank standing in the middle of the room. Allison finally disentangled herself from the welcoming committee and followed me, then stopped dead at the sight of Frank.

“Come give your uncle a hug, for all that it’s been no more than days since I’ve seen you.”

Allison complied, but I noticed she glanced around the room and looked disappointed when she saw no one else. Aha. So she’d hoped to find Cam here.

I gave the happy reunion another ten seconds, then said briskly, “Okay, Allison, are you hungry? The food on those flights is pathetic.”

“I could do with something, if it’s no trouble,” she replied. “I hoped you’d still be up.”

“And starving,” I said promptly. “How about you, Frank? You need anything?”

“A beer if you’ve got it. Other than that, I’m good. Sit down, Allison—you’re making me nervous with your fidgeting. He’s not here.” Clearly Frank had seen what I had.

I rummaged in my refrigerator and came up with salsa, guacamole, and chips. And more beer. That would have to do. Allison sat down at the table, looking rather dazed, and Frank settled himself beside her. I dumped all the food and bottles in the center and sat down myself. I didn’t see any point in formality. “So you haven’t heard from Cam?”

Allison turned to me eagerly. “I tried to call when I reached the States, but all I got was his voice mail. Have you . . . ?”

I took my anger out on a tortilla chip loaded with salsa before I answered. “Yes, I passed on your message, and he took it just about the way I expected. He said something about a project he was working on and disappeared, last Saturday. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Oh my.”

When I stopped to count, I realized it had been five days now since I’d heard from Cam. “Did you try to get in touch with him to tell him you were coming back?”
Or that you were sorry, or that you loved him?

Allison stared at her hands and shook her head. “That I didn’t. I hadn’t made up my mind, you see, until yesterday, and then I’d just had enough, so I called the airlines and they cobbled together some flights for me.”

“So you’d had your fill of the McBrides?” Frank asked, a grin on his face.

“Well, they were all very nice, but . . .” And then she smiled ruefully. “Yes, a little of them goes a long way. Do they never stop talking?”

“Never. Why do you think I fled to Australia?”

Happy families, yadda yadda. I broke in on their warm and fuzzies. “Are you planning to stick around this time, Allison?” I was too tired to beat around the bush.