The Chocolate Falcon Fraud (15 page)

“I really wanted to win the contest for $5,000 though, so I decided maybe I ought to visit the Falcone place personally and get a look at everything they had. But I had no address for them, just a zip. And that zip code takes in a lot of Michigan.”

Joe looked a little more interested. “I assumed you had used a credit card to buy from them.”

“Yeah. But the information on my bill was vague.”

“Then how'd you find the place?”

“I'm not sure I did! I don't remember going there. But I tried to find it. I called Visa and complained that someone had charged something on my bill that I hadn't ordered. The Visa lady told me where the charge had been handled. It was a post box number in Dorinda, Michigan. So that way I got the name of the town. Then I told Visa that I just hadn't recognized the charge and apologized for bothering them.”

“But knowing a town doesn't tell you where to find them.”

“Right.” Jeff grinned. “So the first day I got here, the morning of the day I went by to see Lee, I went over to the Dorinda Post Office and asked the postmaster where Falcone Memorabilia was. He told me he didn't know, since the box holders picked up their mail at the office. Then he grinned at me and
said, ‘Information central for this town is the Dorinda Donut Shop. Go out the door and turn left.'”

Joe looked at me, and we both laughed. “There are no secrets in a small town,” I said. “Did the doughnut shop tell you?”

“The cashier didn't know, but one of the customers did. He said it was ‘the old Valk place.'”

Chocolate Chat

The most famous name in American chocolate is, of course, Hershey's. Here's their recipe for fudge.

Hershey's Old-Fashioned Rich Cocoa Fudge

3 cups sugar

2⁄3 cup cocoa

1⁄8 teaspoon salt

1½ cups whole milk

¼ cup real butter

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Line 8- or 9-inch square pan with foil. Butter foil. In large, heavy saucepan, stir together sugar, cocoa, and salt. Stir in milk, using wooden spoon. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until mixture comes to full rolling boil. Boil without stirring to 234 degrees F on candy thermometer. This can take 20 to 30 minutes. Remove from heat. Add butter and vanilla. DO NOT STIR. Cool at room temperature to 110 degrees F, or lukewarm. (This may take two to two and a half hours.) Beat with wooden spoon until fudge thickens and loses some gloss. (This much beating is work. Find a partner.) When it begins to look more like frosting than like syrup, pour into prepared pan. Cool before cutting into squares. Best made with whole milk and real butter.

Jeff spoke again. “I honestly don't remember finding Falcone's. All of you are sure I went to this place out in the boonies, but it's a mystery to me.”

I ignored that and asked the question we were all thinking about. “Okay. In that final e-mail, just what did the Falcone man tell you?”

“He claimed that a third falcon does exist, just not in the form we all expect. It would be an incredible find, if it's true. But I have my doubts.”

“In this situation,” I said, “you're probably wise to be cautious. This certainly could be a setup for a con job preying on noir fans.”

Then I felt embarrassed. After all, Jeff was a big-time noir fan himself. Would he take offense?

But apparently my remark hadn't upset Jeff. “You're totally right, Lee,” he said. “Someone like Grossman could easily simply be a con man.”

“What makes you suspicious of a prominent collector like Grossman when it comes to a movie prop?” Joe asked.

“The Maltese Falcon props are so well-known—they're documented upside down and backward. It's just not possible that a third falcon
of the same
type exists. But when Grossman talks about another falcon, he could mean something different. I'm sure I wouldn't be able to buy it, but I'd sure like to see it.”

“I heard what Grossman said about the contest he was sponsoring,” I said. “ He didn't offer a hundred thousand for the statuette. He offered the money for a clue to where it could be found.”

Jeff grinned. “Oh. If that's the case, I might win the money. All I have to do is find out if Falcone has a real falcon and then let Grossman know.”

I crossed my eyes. “But you said it didn't exist.”

“Something
like it
might exist.” Jeff sat forward and dropped his voice. “If a movie prop man was given the job of creating a falcon, wouldn't he test several designs? See which one he liked? And see which one the director liked?”

Joe nodded slowly. “So you mean the falcon Grossman is talking about might not look like—I guess we could call it the ‘Bogart falcon'?”

“Exactly! If you look at the first edition of the book, for example, the falcon on the cover is nothing like the movie falcon. It's slimmer, more art deco. In fact, there's long been a belief that Hammett got the idea to use the falcon as the MacGuffin from a real jeweled falcon owned by a British nobleman.”

Joe shook his head. “Okay. You lost me. ‘Use the falcon as the MacGuffin'? What does that mean?”

Jeff looked pained, so I answered Joe's question. “Jeff taught me that term when he was fourteen. Let's see if I remember. A MacGuffin is a plot device. It's the object that everybody in the movie is after. It's the thing that makes the plot move along.”

That made Jeff look a little happier. “Right, Lee! And it can be anything.”

Joe looked even more confused.

“Joe,” Jeff said, “what's your favorite movie?”

“I don't have one.”

“Try
The Maltese Falcon
itself,” I said to Jeff. “Since Joe and I watched it recently.”

“Okay. In
The Maltese Falcon
what are all the characters trying to get hold of?”

“A statue of a bird.”

“Right. But what if it had been a statue of something else? A saint, maybe. Or an elephant. Or a Roman Venus. The movie plot would still work.”

“I see,” Joe said. “Because the movie isn't really about the falcon statue. It's about the characters and the choices they have to make as they try to get hold of it. Right?”

“Exactly! And it's especially about Sam Spade and the choices he makes. That's what makes it such a great film! The statue is just the device Hammett picked to motivate the characters.”

“And movie fans call that the MacGuffin?”

“Moviemakers and movie fans. Sometimes writers. Everybody at this film festival would know what a MacGuffin is. And Hammett could have used a million different things. A fabulous diamond. A prize racehorse. The heir to a throne. A twelfth-century map proving that Erik the Red discovered America.”

“But Hammett picked a falcon.”

“You got it! And one of the guesses as to why he chose a falcon is that he was inspired by this actual jeweled bird, very historic.”

“I see.”

Jeff gestured vigorously. “So, if you were a movie prop designer, and you had to make a statue of an ancient jeweled bird for a film, how would you start?”

“Well, I'm a lawyer. We start by researching. I'd try to find out what actual bird statues of the appropriate time period looked like. Then I'd probably make a model. I'd either draw one or make one out of clay or some other inexpensive material. I'd get an okay from the producer before I made the real one.”

“Exactly! And I think that's what the Falcone guy has. A model of a proposed falcon. Probably one the producer turned down.”

“That could be.”

Jeff went on, but his voice sounded a bit weaker. “Someplace I've got a picture of the famous jeweled statue . . . It's in a well-known collection of art in England. The falcon in it is much more lifelike than the Bogart falcon, which is stylized. And it's definitely covered with jewels.”

“Did the Falcone guy describe his falcon?”

Jeff sat silently, rubbing his forehead and frowning. “I can't recall exactly what he said.”

Suddenly we all remembered something more important than a jeweled falcon. Jeff was recovering from a concussion.

Tess jumped to her feet. “Jeff! Honey! You lie down.”

“Yes, Jeff. We've tired you out,” I said.

In five minutes we had Jeff tucked in bed, had consulted the nurse—who wasn't real happy with us—and had dimmed the lights.

“I guess I
am
getting tired,” Jeff said. “But I wish I could remember just how he described the statue. I need my computer.”

This time I didn't feel as if he was using his injury to keep from talking to me.

Tess, Joe, and I settled in the empty waiting area across the hall. Tess and I grabbed a couch, and Joe moved to a corner and pulled out his phone, saying he needed to check in with his office.

He had barely put his phone to his ear when Tess turned to me. She spoke quietly. “Lee, I'd like to ask you a personal question.”

What was coming? “Sure, Tess.”

“Is there something wrong with Jeff's daddy?”

“Not that I know of. What brought that on?”

“I mean . . .” She wiggled uncomfortably. “I know it's none of my business, Lee, but Jeff said something about ‘why you walked out on' him.”

“Oh. Well, if you're going to join the family, I guess you deserve to know the family secrets. Rich didn't beat me or anything, Tess. We just weren't happy together. We were both seeing counselors more than we were seeing each other.”

She didn't look satisfied. And maybe she did deserve a better answer. The problem was, I wasn't sure I could give her one.

“Let me think a minute,” I said. And I took a full minute to try to analyze what I wanted to say.

Finally I spoke. “As they say, Tess, it was as much my fault as Rich's. See, my parents were always hard up, and they were always arguing about money. Then they divorced, and I thought it was because of their money problems. So when I met Jeff's dad, part of me may have thought, ‘Well, at least we won't have to worry about money.' But I also fell for Rich big-time! I would never want you to think I married him for his money. I was crazy about him. But after we were married—well, it's the way your
dad figured it—Rich saw money as control. He wanted to make all the decisions, and not just the financial decisions. He wasn't mean about it; he just thought he knew best. If I tried to talk to him, then he saw that he'd hurt my feelings. That made him feel bad, and he wanted to apologize. But instead of trying to understand my viewpoint, he'd buy me a new car or a piece of jewelry.”

Tess made a sympathetic noise. “And that wasn't what you wanted.”

“No. I didn't want
things
. I wanted some—respect, I guess. He wanted gratitude. And he wanted to show me off as if I were a possession. Neither of us was getting what we wanted out of the marriage. It got to the point we were at odds all the time. And I don't want to live like that. So I left.”

“Jeff told me you refused any kind of financial settlement. Why?”

“I felt that money had been at the center of our problems, and I wanted Rich to see that I loved
him
, not his money. Which turned out to be dumb, because Rich didn't catch on to what I was trying to say.”

I patted Tess' hand. “Anyway, after we split Rich kept up with the counseling and eventually he and Dina were able to make it up, and they got married again, which is great. And I found Joe, and I'm happy, too, so it all worked out.”

It all worked out after a lot of heartburn, but I didn't go into that. I just pulled out my own phone and checked with my office, promising Aunt Nettie I'd get there sometime.

Tess sat quietly while I was on the phone, but as soon as I clicked off, she had another question.

“Lee, did you and Joe live together? Before you got married, I mean?”

Oh, ye gods! Was she going to ask me about the birds and the bees next?

“I never moved in with him,” I said. “It just never was convenient. But we're normal people, Tess. We spent a lot of time together.” I winked at her. “Planning our wedding.”

She smiled. I looked across the room at Joe, and I noticed that he was holding his phone to his ear with his left hand, but he had covered his eyes with his right one. And he was shaking all over.

The rat! He was laughing at me.

I shook my finger at him. “And when Tess gets her gun back, I'm going to borrow it and shoot somebody. Right in the patootie.”

Joe looked at me then, and we both began to laugh. Poor Tess was embarrassed. She excused herself and went to get some lunch. We were all tired of that hospital lunchroom, but she promised not to leave the building—even to go across the street for a hamburger.

As soon as we were alone, Joe came over, sat beside me, and gave me a real kiss. Then he spoke softly, right in my ear. “These kids just don't know anything about it, do they?”

“I guess they'll find out.”

“At least you didn't tell her the first piece of furniture I ever bought was a king-size bed.”

“I thought you needed that bed because you're tall.”

“I had a tall girlfriend, too. With the old twin, I was always nervous about one of us landing on the floor at a crucial moment.”

We stopped with the snuggling then, because after all we were in a public hospital waiting room, and we might be alone
at the moment, but we could be interrupted anytime. And we were. Hogan came in.

He looked the area over. “Are any of these chairs comfortable?”

“The gray recliner's the best,” Joe said. “Did you get anything out of the girl at Valk Souvenirs?”

“Nope. In fact, I didn't talk to her.”

“Why not?”

“She's hightailed it. The place was deserted.”