Thieves Like Us (3 page)

Jack’s composure slipped into a slight frown. “That doesn’t count. It wasn’t real for at least a week.” Seeing Rocky’s smile, he apparently thought better of using the details of his impromptu engagement to Ellie as a shining example of restraint. “Come on, Rocky. Ellie has a point. I know you’re putting your life back together. You’ve done a good job of it, too, starting the business with Ellie and going to law school. But you don’t have to have everything all at once. You can’t just go out and get an instant wife and family.”

“What family? Janet doesn’t have kids. And I’m not looking to marry her, just
be
with her. Minus her clothes.” Crude guy humor was safer than admitting the truth, that he just might want something more with this woman.

Jack snorted. “It doesn’t all happen that fast just because you want it to. And you can’t expect her to accommodate your accelerated schedule.”

“Overlooking the fact that it happened exactly that fast for
you,
I have to repeat, I’ve known Janet for a year. Hell, I knew her six months before I even kissed her. That’s beyond patient for me. I’ve never even had a relationship that lasted that long.”

Jack’s brow lifted. “You kissed her?”

“You mean it wasn’t a household news flash? She didn’t tell Ellie? Those two talk about everything.”

Jack waved it off. “I’m sure she told Ellie. But no one told me. When did this happen?”

He didn’t even question his friend’s intrusion on what he might normally consider private business. He’d met Jack in jail, where privacy was nearly impossible and personal issues were discussed openly. Jack Payton was closer to him than his own brother. “Here, at your New Year’s Eve party.”

Jack made a scoffing noise. “New Year’s kisses don’t count.”

“It wasn’t like that. And believe me, this one counted.”

Jack gave it a moment’s consideration. “Still, I gotta trust Ellie on this. You might be moving too fast. If she’s not ready, you’ll blow it.”

It was a valid point. Janet had been uncertain and scared after her disastrous marriage to Banner. But her confidence was back now: She laughed a lot and had plans for her future. He needed her to know he wanted to be part of that future.

“I think she likes me.”

“Right. That’s why she acts like she wants nothing to do with you.”

He looked down the street toward where Janet’s car had disappeared, smiling as he thought about it. “That’s what I’m hoping.”

I
t was unusual for her doorbell to ring on a Tuesday morning while she was getting ready for work. It was even more unusual to find two uniformed police officers on her front porch.

“Are you Janet Aims?”

She glanced at their photo IDs and blinked in confusion. “Yes, I am. What can I do for you?”

“May we come in?”

Her gaze automatically flicked past them to the lawn outside her condo. Sprinklers swished across green lawns, and someone walked by with a dog, glancing curiously at the patrol car, then at the officers in her doorway. “Sure.” She stood aside and closed the door behind them, suddenly filled with dread. Didn’t the police always want to talk to you in private when they delivered bad news?

“Did something happen? Was there an accident?” Her mind raced through the possibilities before they could answer. Her parents lived in Arizona—could there have been a medical emergency? Her pulse shot up. Or Elizabeth, who seemed perfectly healthy, but was getting to that age when . . . Oh, God! Ellie and Jack were getting on a plane today. But it wouldn’t have left yet, would it? Her mind whirled and her stomach tightened, bracing for bad news. One of them spoke, but her frantic pulse was so loud in her ears she didn’t catch what he said.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” She gripped her hands together to keep them from shaking.

The officer—Furley, according to his name badge— spoke more slowly. “Miss Aims, did you sell some pieces of jewelry yesterday at Portman’s Jewelers?”

“What?” She must have looked as dumbfounded as she sounded. Relief washed through her like a cool wave as she tried to concentrate on what he’d said. “Yes. Yes, I did. Why?”

He pulled a piece of paper from an inner pocket in his jacket, unfolding it to reveal a picture. “Do you recognize this?”

One corner of the white paper showed a computer-generated digital picture. But not that of the diamond ring she expected to see. Instead, it was the pearl-studded chain and the ugly gold pendant with the embedded red stone. Curiosity was overcoming surprise as she met the officers’ expressionless gazes. “Yes, that’s my necklace. I mean, it was. I sold it to Mr. Portman.”

Furley shot a quick glance at the other policeman, making Janet tense up. “What’s wrong? Has there been a robbery or something?” Not that it should involve her, but maybe Mr. Portman needed her to verify his inventory.

Something flickered in Furley’s eyes and he looked more alert. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I don’t know why you would ask me to identify the necklace, unless to verify that Portman’s had it.”

But that wasn’t it, she could tell from his blank expression. Another thought struck her—what if Mr. Portman had discovered that it wasn’t nearly as valuable as he’d thought, and wanted his money back? Would he call the police for that?

No, of course not. But the thought did nothing to allay her heart-pounding panic. There was still something wrong, and the police had come to
her
house, looking stern and implacable. That couldn’t be good.

When Furley didn’t say anything, she tried a direct approach. “Why are you asking me about the necklace?”

“Miss Aims, how did you acquire the necklace?”

The same thing Portman had asked.

“My ex-husband gave it to me for my birthday. I don’t know where he bought it. I already told Mr. Portman all this.” If she knew what they were getting at, she could be more helpful, not to mention a whole lot less nervous. It was amazing how being questioned by the police had a way of making a simple transaction sound terrifying.

“Do you have a sales receipt for it?”

“No, it was a gift.”

“Do you usually sell expensive gifts from family members?”

Nerves gave way to annoyance. He’d just hit what was still a very sensitive spot. “No, I don’t. Officer, do you know who my ex-husband is?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do. Banner Westfield, currently awaiting trial on charges of drug running and money laundering.”

“And attempted murder. Of
me.
” She let it sink in. “And you wonder why I don’t want to keep a memento of our wonderful time together?” She nodded at the picture. “Besides the fact that it’s ugly. Just look at it. Frankly, I don’t know if Portman’s can find a market for it. No one makes necklaces like that anymore.”

“No ma’am, they don’t. Not for the past several hundred years, since the time this one was made.” He held the photo out again.

She gave the picture a careless glance. So it really was an heirloom. Old, but probably cheap, being so unattractive. It wouldn’t be fair to keep the ten thousand dollars, but right now she felt like she deserved something, if only because her breakfast was now a hard lump in her stomach. Maybe fifty dollars. Portman
had
agreed to buy the thing, after all. “It’s old. So what?”

“The senior Mr. Portman identified it as soon as he saw it. He showed us a detailed drawing of it in a book. The necklace is part of a jewelry collection that was owned by a museum in Germany until it was stolen in”—he looked at something scribbled on the back of the photo—“1788.”

Her uncharitable thoughts about Portman came screeching to a halt. “Wait. It was stolen? From a museum?” She had no idea how Banner ended up buying it more than two hundred years later, but that wasn’t her problem. If it had been stolen, that meant it had to be returned. No one got to keep the necklace. Which meant she couldn’t keep the money. She sighed, prepared to deal with yet another piece of debris from her disastrous marriage.

“It’s not a problem, officer. I’m quite willing to give Mr. Portman his money back. I’ll just rip up the check.”

“Ma’am, you can work that out with Portman’s later. Right now we’d like you to come to the station with us for a talk.”

She nodded, willing to cooperate, but unsure what more she could tell them. “About what?”

“About why you were in possession of priceless stolen jewelry. And why you were so anxious to sell it.” He raised an eyebrow, the first change in his expression. “Just to clear things up.”

Priceless?
Janet swallowed, and wasn’t surprised to feel a lump in her throat. “Do I need a lawyer?”

“No, ma’am. But you can call one if you’d like. We’ll wait.”

She reminded herself that innocent people providing information didn’t need lawyers. But she’d seen too much TV to think the facts couldn’t get twisted. “Just give me a couple minutes to make that call.”

But not to her lawyer. The woman had done an excellent job of protecting her against Banner’s legal sharks during their divorce, but had no experience with criminal cases. There was only one person she knew of who understood the ins and outs of the legal system and knew something about stolen jewelry— Rocky Hernandez.

With no windows to let in fresh air, the interview room smelled of body odor and stale coffee.

And criminals. She couldn’t help the irrational thought. Her ex-husband had probably sat in this very room with one or two of his high-priced attorneys. This was where they brought their suspects.

They could have talked with her in that bright office she’d passed, but they’d brought her here. Maybe they thought the privacy would make her more relaxed, but it just reminded her that murderers and rapists had sat in this spot before her. Edging forward, she put the smallest possible part of her in contact with her chair.

She nearly jumped up when Rocky came in, followed by Furley and his partner. She half stood, barely having enough time to register her surprise at Rocky’s neatly tailored three-piece suit before he surprised her again by leaning down to give her a brief hug. She realized just how nervous she’d been when she felt herself relax. As they sat, he kept his arm slung across the back of her chair.

“Thanks for coming,” she said.

“No problem.” His hand came up to touch her shoulder and his dark brown eyes crinkled with a reassuring smile before he turned to face the officers across from them. “Let’s just tell them what they want to know, and we’ll be out of here.”

She nodded. The sooner the better.

Furley and his partner were distant but polite as she gave a detailed story of receiving the necklace from Banner, then selling it to Portman’s along with her engagement ring. But it was Rocky’s hand resting lightly on her shoulder that kept her calm and steady. She never realized how much trust and confidence she had in him. Maybe it was the suit. She’d rarely seen him in anything but the ubiquitous Hawaiian shirts and jeans. She barely recognized him.

Unfortunately, it seemed Sergeant Furley did. When she finished talking, it was Rocky who captured his attention. Furley gave him a hard stare that made her shift uncomfortably in her chair again, but Rocky seemed unaffected. “What did you say your name was?”

“Roberto Hernandez.”

“Huh. I’ve heard of you before.”

“Really? I’m sorry I can’t say I’ve heard of you.”

Furley’s brow puckered as he thought. “I’ve seen your picture.”

Rocky gave a modest shrug. “I’m quite photogenic.”

Beckman, Furley’s partner, had said nothing while Janet spoke, and he didn’t move now as he regarded Rocky from his tipped-back chair. After several seconds the stony facade cracked, and a smile that was more like a sneer crossed his face. He whacked his partner in the shoulder. “Rocky Hernandez. Spent some time as a guest of the county.”

Furley brightened. “Right. Now I remember. Burglary, wasn’t it?”

“No.” Rocky corrected him with a tight smile. “Breaking and entering. But it’s nice to be remembered.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Thought you said you were a law student.”

“I am.”

“They let criminals become lawyers?”

“With good character references.” He flashed a smile. “I have an exemplary character.”

Furley smirked. “Ya don’t say.”

Janet gave Rocky a worried glance. He looked unconcerned, even though his steady gaze seemed to hide a touch of annoyance at the line of questioning. Furley, on the other hand, was beginning to look like a lion stalking a zebra. “Rumor has it you’re a pro.”

“You can’t believe everything you hear. And I’ll be glad to chat with you about it later, but my past has nothing to do with Janet.”

Furley ignored the hint. “Jewelry, isn’t it? That’s your thing.” He looked between Janet and Rocky. “And your pretty little friend here was selling a hot necklace. Wouldn’t you call that interesting?”

“I’d say it’s more ironic,” Rocky answered.

Janet didn’t know how Rocky could remain so calm when Furley’s smile had become so predatory. Feeling uneasy, she shifted her gaze to Beckman. He stared back with the same intensity her cat had while watching birds, unflinching and ready to pounce. A tiny whiplash of panic sent her heart racing. “Rocky?”