Treasure Hunt (Part V)

Not wanting to arouse Sylvester's curiosity, I veered to other topics. My thoughts, however, were still on his comments when I left. The statue was small and light enough to be concealed in a supposedly empty box.

It wasn't much of a lead. Even if the statue had been smuggled out in the truck, it wouldn't be there now. Still, a conversation with this Jerry might provide a clue.

I'd gotten to know the caterer's secretary well enough over time that she didn't even question my wanting Jerry's home address. Once the museum closed, I headed for the working class neighborhood where he lived.

As I traveled off the main road, the modest one-family dwellings gave way to turn-of-the-century Victorian houses whose turreted upper stories had been converted into apartments. The one in which Jerry resided was in the middle of a block. If anything, it was more forlorn than the rest. The peeled paint and sagging steps spoke of low rent and hard times.

I parked the car behind a panel truck and made my way to the side entrance. Twilight had descended, forcing me to pick my way cautiously along the narrow, uneven walk.

The bulb over the door was barely bright enough to make out Jerry's last name above one of the bells. As my finger pressed the buzzer, I knew a moment of panic. Suppose the man I was about to face turned out to be the thief? What chance would I have against him? All at once, I found myself wishing for Andy's comforting presence.

It was too late to run. More lights came on, the drawing of the bolt sounded in the lock, and the door slid open.

No wonder Jerry had been the one to deliver the caterers' heavy equipment. He would have been at home on an Olympic gymnastics team. His muscular frame all but filled the doorway. I could read nothing in the level gaze he gave me under thick, black brows. His greeting held more caution than warmth. “Yes? What is it?” he asked.

The gentle technique I had seen Andy use to question Tom was not going to work here. Only by direct attack could I hope for answers, much less a confession. Before my courage left me, I rushed on. “My name is Kathryn Gilliam. That panel truck out front is yours?”

“It belongs to the outfit I work for, but they let me use it to come home.” His face registered suspicion. “What's it to you?”

I ignored his question. “You were driving it last Thursday.” The door jerked slightly. “That afternoon you dropped off some catering equipment at the Vista Linda Museum .”

The door started to close. “Lady, that's my job. I go where I'm sent, I deliver what I'm told. Now, if you don't mind...”

“Why were you so anxious to get those empty boxes loaded on the truck? Were you afraid someone would try to stop you?”

The door ceased to move. A muscle in his cheek jerked nervously. “I had several stops that day. We were on a tight schedule."

My tone was mild. “It was nearly six o'clock . That was your last delivery, surely.”

“Like you said, it was late. I just wanted to get home.”

I took a wild chance. “But you didn't go straight home, did you?”

A tiny flame—of apprehension?—flickered in his eyes. “Okay, so I used the truck to go someplace. What of it?”

“I have reason to believe that truck was used in the commission of a theft.”

“I wasn't stealing...” The denial was out of Jerry's mouth before he thought. A nervous hand brushed through the thick, curly hair. His inner turmoil was evident in the conflict of emotions that tore across his face.

All at once, the hard shell of resistance cracked. “Okay. I took it. But I wasn't gonna keep it. If you'll just give me a chance to explain.”

I must have nodded, for he opened the door wider and stepped back to let me in. I hesitated, realizing I could be walking into a trap. The sounds of other tenants in the building reassured me. If he were to threaten me, I could always scream.

I let him lead the way up the narrow set of stairs to an attic apartment. The room I entered was sparsely furnished. The sofa to which he directed me had been covered with a throw, no doubt to hide its worn upholstery. A small, round table beside it held a reading lamp. The stack of modular plastic crates that served as a wall unit held a black-and-white TV and a cheap cassette player, against which were propped some snapshots of a wedding. The bride's white suit was wide-shouldered and straight-skirted, its tailored simplicity softened by a lace platter collar. As I drew closer, it was easy to see that her square chin and dark brows were feminine replicas of Jerry's.

“My sister, Nora,” he explained. “She and Ben got married Saturday.” Taking a print in his massive fist, he reminisced. “She had just gone off to college when Mom and Pop died. I was ten at the time. My younger brother and sister were in first and second grade. Nora quit school and came home to take care of us. All those years she held down a job and cooked and cleaned and saw to it that we did our homework, and she never once complained.

“Then Ben came along. Nora didn't think it fair to saddle him with raising three rambunctious kids. Especially when he needed to be concentrating on establishing his lumber business. They waited to marry until we all had finished high school and were on our own.”

His gaze was defiant as he turned to me. “Nora said she didn't want any fuss; just a quiet ceremony with the family present. But she's done without for so long. She deserved something special. The rest of us got together and planned a celebration."

For the first time, his expression softened. “You should have seen the look on her face when she walked in and saw the linen cloth on the table and the trays of fancy sandwiches and the china plates and the silver and the coffee service. I took those things. For Nora. So she'd have something nice to remember.”

Carefully, he set the photo back in its place. “I don't expect you to believe me, but I only intended to borrow them. The silver's been polished and the cloth washed and ironed. They're ready to go back to the caterers' tomorrow. You can check if you want to see that nothing's missing.” He pointed toward the opening that led into a kitchen. Even without that kind of evidence, I believed him.

“I should have asked,” he said, “but the boss is pretty hard-nosed. I was afraid he wouldn't agree. Are you gonna turn me in?”

“Well,” I answered judiciously, “I guess we can overlook it this time. But, mind you, every bit of the property is to be returned in the morning. It will be easy enough to check, you know.” The smile that spread across his face was young and vulnerable. I knew I had made the right decision.

“It'll be there,” he assured me. “I wouldn't want Sis to find out I'd taken the stuff without permission. She'd be awfully upset.”

Jerry would keep silent, and certainly I wasn't going to tell, I thought as I made my way to my car down the darkened street. I was glad Andy wouldn't be likely to find out. It was hard to know which would be worse: having to endure his lecture when he discovered I'd ignored his instructions, or bearing the brunt of his teasing when he learned I'd chased after the wrong thief.

With Andy and his likely reactions occupying my thoughts, I failed to notice the car's partially opened window as I slid behind the wheel. During my drive out, it had been closed to take advantage of the air conditioning. Only a slight sound alerted me to the presence of an intruder in the back seat. I had only time to gasp for breath before a hand closed over my mouth and an icy edge of steel pressed against my throat.

“Just in case you didn't understand the message when we arranged that little accident this morning,” a sinister voice breathed into my ear, “perhaps I should explain more clearly. We do not like people who meddle in our business. If you wish to remain healthy, it would be prudent to forget about the statue.”

The hand across my face jerked tighter, pulling me hard against the seat. “Should you require further persuasion, let me remind you. We know who you are. We know where you live. We can find you any time. So be a good little girl and stop interfering. Otherwise...” The erudite language made his threat all the more frightening. The side of the knife blade moved slowly over my throat. “Now,” he advised, “I suggest you sit here quietly and ponder my words.”

Only after he took his hand from my mouth and stepped out behind me was I aware of the car that had pulled up alongside. Its passenger door slammed and the driver accelerated. Not until then did he switch on his lights.

I didn't move. I couldn't. It took several minutes of deep breathing before my nerveless fingers were able to turn the key in the ignition. With that menacing voice echoing in my mind, I wanted nothing more than the security, however illusory, of familiar surroundings. As though by rote, I turned the car toward home.

The sight of its yawning black windows and darkened entrance only increased my apprehension. I pulled into the carport thinking to seek Tom's comforting presence next door, when I recognized the ringing of my phone.

Perhaps if my mind had been functioning normally, I would have chosen to ignore the call. Instead, I flicked on the kitchen light and made my way to the persistent sound in the hall. As I was lifting the receiver from its cradle, my heart lurched. Suppose it were my attacker, with a further threat?

A voice jumped out at me before I could gather my thoughts. “Just where have you been?” it demanded. “I have been trying all evening to reach you.”

“Oh, Bruce!” I cried. “You don't know how glad I am you called. I just this minute got in. This man...”

“You can tell me about it later, Kathryn,” he cut in.' “But,”

“I haven't the time. Now, pay attention. We have an emergency on our hands. The theft of the Estatua has been leaked to the press. Tomorrow morning I will be expected to issue a statement.”

“But that shouldn't be difficult,” I told him. “Just give them the facts. Some person, or persons, unknown has stolen the Estatua de la Villa Rica, and the police have been called in to retrieve it.”

“I don't think you understand.” Bruce's tone was impatient. “There are bound to be questions about security arrangements. You'll remember that I originated the procedure. I'll be seen as the one responsible.”

“Oh, Bruce, the entire incident will likely be forgotten as soon as the statue is found.”

“Perhaps, but by then it will be too late. My reputation will be damaged. That thieves could so easily circumvent security and walk away with our most important exhibit certainly makes me look foolish, if not incompetent.”

“But your arrangements were well thought out. The insurance company said you'd covered all contingencies.”

“All but one; that a member of the staff would fail to follow procedure. If Tom Burkett had been at his post as he was instructed, this never would have happened. I intend to make an example of him. Tomorrow I shall announce that he has been dismissed.”

“But even being placed on suspension has nearly destroyed him! I hate to think what will happen if you make the firing permanent.”

“And I hate to think what will happen if I don't! Kathryn, the Society's steering committee has kept it secret, but they are choosing their new Executive Director at the business meeting they're holding here this week. I'm being seriously considered for the position. The job calls for decisiveness and leadership. I need to demonstrate that I possess those qualities. Taking action against a staff member who has violated carefully laid down rules will substantiate that. Don't you see? My entire career is at stake here.”

“But, Bruce,” I protested, “these thieves were professionals!” And they were ruthless, I knew.

Bruce gave me no chance to explain. “Supposedly, Tom was a professional, too. His conduct in this case would bring that into question. My decision is final, Kathryn.”