My heart jumped. Mrs. Ross could call any minute now, and I didn’t have the necklace. I forced myself to sound calm. “Don’t worry about it, Angela. I’ll talk to her when she calls. Is everything else going well there?”

  “Oh, Susan, thank you for not being mad,” she said sounding as though she was fighting back tears. “I wish I had stood up to her, but she seemed so mean. And yes, everything is going well. We signed four more people to full programs in just the last two days.”

  “Good job, Angela,” I told her. “I appreciate how well you take over the center, and I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Susan.” I could hear the relief in her voice. “That means a lot to me. I won’t disturb you again, and I’ll see you on Monday.”

  We hung up. I looked at the clock; it was 12:30. I didn’t want to talk with Mrs. Ross. It was time to go see Detective Bentley and fill him in on what I knew.

  I took a few minutes to wash my face. My hair brushed, I quickly applied mascara and lip gloss. I was still in my black mood. I changed from my old cleaning clothes into a pair of Levi jeans and a black-and-white, horizontal stripe, long-sleeved sweater. I pulled on a pair of black slouchy boots, and grabbed my short, black, fitted leather jacket. The jacket would help to cut the chill in the air.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread as I drove into downtown Carbide City. Normally I loved going downtown and enjoyed the architecture and the shops of the 150-year-old city, but everything was drab today. I drove slowly down Main Street and saw that, for once, I was in luck. There was one parking spot open on the street across from the Police Department. I pulled into position to parallel park. Before I had completely pulled the front end of the Chevelle into the spot, a car sped by. It was an old, rusty Caprice. It almost hit my car! Who would speed in front of a police station? I sat for a moment wondering at their stupidity and then tried to steel myself for my meeting with Detective Bentley.

  I grabbed my purse, stepped out of my car, and promptly proceeded to jaywalk across the street. Just as I was mid-way, a car came careening wildly around the corner of the next block and was speeding directly at me. It was the Caprice.

  For a second, I couldn’t move, and I felt my heart flop. I could easily see it was Indiana Jones driving the car with Mrs. Ross in the passenger seat. I didn’t have time to fully process the thought, but I knew they were trying to scare me and keep me from going into the police station. Racquetball had taught me to move on a dime, and I bolted the rest of the way across the street and through the front doors of the station. I never looked back.

  The desk officer was frowning when I ran through the doors. “Almost get hit jaywalkin’, did ya?” he asked. “I saw ya runnin’ across the street.”

  “I’m sorry, officer. I won’t do it again,” I said trying to look sheepish. “I’m Susan Hunter. Detective Bentley asked me to stop in to see him.”

  He continued to frown, probably contemplating whether or not to write out a citation for the jaywalking. “Have a seat,” he said as he motioned to a bench. He picked up the telephone, punched a button, and simply said, “Susan Hunter.”

  I sat on the bench and waited. Fifteen minutes later, Detective Bentley, dressed casually in jeans and a black pullover sweater, strode across the large lobby toward me. I stood up, aware my palms were wet with perspiration, and hoping he wouldn’t want to shake my hand. At a height of over six feet, he presented an intimidating figure, and my heart immediately started to pound.

  He stopped several feet in front me. “Susan Hunter,” he said coldly, “walk this way.” He spun on his heel and headed back toward the hallway.

  I swear the man thought he was a comedian. Who says walk this way? At least he didn’t break into an Egyptian walk or, worse, a duck walk.

  We entered his office. He motioned for me to take a seat, and he sat facing me on the edge of his desk. Even though I had done nothing wrong, his close proximity made me even more nervous. I felt cold and clammy over my entire body. My mouth was dry and swallowing was difficult.

  He was staring intensely at me with his smoldering blue-gray eyes. His square cut jaw with the cleft was clenched. I could feel his anger. He finally spoke. “Soooo …,” he drawled. “The F.B.I. tells me you were the last person to see Bernardo Angelo alive, and now you’re a murder suspect.” He deepened his frown.

  What?! A murder suspect! No one said anything about me being a suspect. My mouth fell open, my eyes popped out, and no words came out. I was pretty sure my heart stopped. I gripped the edge of his desk for fear I would pass out.

  Suddenly, Detective Bentley stood up and laughed. “Susan, you gotta stop comin’ in here being so scared. It’s just too easy to mess with you.”

  I put my hand on my heart, and screeched at him, “What is wrong with you?! I swear I’m going to get an attorney and sue you for trying to induce a heart attack!” I stood up to walk out of his office. There was no way I wanted to talk with this jerk.

  “Oh, settle down,” he said still laughing at me. “It was all in good fun. Come on. We didn’t send men out to arrest you, we simply asked you to come in and talk to us. Every time I see you, you look guilty, like you murdered someone.” He leaned toward me, “Did you?”

  “For crying out loud,” I snapped at him. “Of course not! And you know it!” My voice was still raised.

  Not able to contain his smile, he pointed to the chair for me to sit down again. He walked around his desk and sat in his chair. “Ok, Susan, let’s hear it. What do you know about this case that I don’t know?”

  I took a couple of deep breaths. This man sure knew how to push my buttons and not in a good way. I simply did not get his sense of humor. “I only know a few things that might help,” I told him. “I overheard a man in New York say something to Bernardo about a river. He may have been threatening him, but that’s speculation. I heard Bernardo say very clearly, ‘Armand doesn’t know.’ I also know the F.B.I. is looking for the U.S. contacts who delivered the merchandise on a regular basis to Bernardo.” Detective Bentley nodded his head at this comment. I leaned in toward him, and said, “And I know where they are.”

  “You do?” He furrowed his brow at me for real this time.

  “Yep.” I leaned back in my chair and said smugly, “Right here in Carbide City.”

  “How do you know that?” he practically growled at me.

  “Because they’ve been following me and threatening me, that’s how,” I said

  Detective Bentley had the good sense to look shocked, and his mouth fell open. He immediately sent for a stenographer, so she could take my statement. I told him everything I knew right down to the car trying to run me over on my way into the station.

  He had to tell me several times to quit calling the man in the hat Indiana Jones, but I didn’t have another name for him. “Try Mr. Ross, or the man in the hat,” he had barked at me. The only information I held back was when I would be getting the necklace from my mom. There was no explanation for it, but something deep in my core told me to keep that one tidbit of information to myself.

  “The necklace is the key to all of this,” Detective Bentley told me after hearing my story. “You said there was a gold piece on top of the jade?”

  I nodded and said, “Yes, an ancient Chinese musical symbol in gold.”

  “Susan, this doesn’t leave this room,” he said. “I’m guessing all of the information is in a microchip under the gold piece. That necklace may have all the information the F.B.I needs to bring this ring down. That’s why they’re desperate to get it back. Has your mother already shipped it?”

  “She should have mailed it this morning,” I told him. It was a truthful answer.

  “It’ll probably be here Friday or Saturday,” he said. “I’ll send a man down to the post office Friday morning. If he misses it, and it comes to you instead, you call me the minute it hits your hands. You understand?”

  “I understand,” I told him.

  Detective Bentley had already put out an all-points bulletin for the Caprice, Indiana Jones, and Mrs. Ross, when he asked an officer to walk with me across the street to my car.

  “You go right home, ma’am,” the officer told me. “Lock your doors and stay put. Detective Bentley thinks you’ll be fine if you stay at home. We’ll send a car by later tonight to keep an eye on your place.”

  I thanked the officer, jumped in my car, and headed for home. I had been at the police station nearly three hours. I was tired, but alert. I watched anxiously for any sign of the Caprice.

  My awareness continued, and I felt silly sneaking into my apartment building. I crept softly up the stairs looking carefully to be sure no one was in the hallways. When I reached the top floor, I knocked on Darby’s door. I really wanted to talk to him about Detective Bentley’s theory about the necklace. I knocked again. No answer. He hadn’t been home all day.

  Safely locked in my apartment, I looked around. I checked the closets and peered under the bed. Everything was fine. I walked into the living room and stood for minute wondering what I should do next. My phone rang.

  The number was unknown. My heart jumped into my throat. I didn’t want to, but I had to answer it. “Hello?” It came out as a whisper.

  It was a woman’s voice with an English accent. Mrs. Ross, of course. “Listen to me you stupid bitch. Your friend is as good as dead if you don’t do ‘xactly as you’re told. If you make a move toward the cops again, you’re both dead.”

  If I wasn’t in such good health, my heart would have surely exploded. My chest was tight, I couldn’t breathe, and my mouth felt like it was full of cotton. I could barely get my words out, but finally squeaked, “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you have the necklace?” she snapped.

  “No, not yet, but it’s on its way,” I said, my voice shaky.

  “You have one more day. Bring it to the Smokey Bridge tomorrow night at 7:00. If you don’t have it, Darby dies. If you don’t show, Darby dies, and we’ll hunt you down. If we see any sign of the cops, you both die.”

  “You have Darby?” I asked incredulously.

  “How stupid are you?” she asked. “No cops, and you both go free when we get the necklace. Tomorrow night. Smokey Bridge. 7:00.” The phone went dead.

  I knew the Smokey Bridge. It was on the northwest end of town in one of the city’s many parks. I sat down on the sofa and put my head in my hands. I spent the next several minutes rocking back and forth. I was on the verge of a breakdown, and I had no one to talk to.

  I picked up my phone to call Detective Bentley, but put it right back down again. I simply couldn’t call him. The F.B.I. wasn’t here yet, and I didn’t feel I could trust the local police to deal with these people. If the thieves spotted any police at all, they would kill Darby, and I absolutely couldn’t let that happen under any circumstances. I had to get the necklace and take it to them. I had to get Darby back. I wanted to cry, but I was done crying. Now was the time to be strong and not do anything other than what I was told to do.

  The necklace would be at the post office in the morning and delivered sometime in the afternoon. I knew my mail carrier, Kathy. We had graduated from high school together, and I sometimes saw her when she delivered the mail. I went to the pantry cupboard in the kitchen. I kept menus, recipes, and an old telephone book on the top shelf. I took down the telephone book and flipped through it, hoping Kathy and her husband still lived over on Elm Street and were listed. I found the number and punched it into my phone.

  “Hello?” asked a female voice.

  “Kathy? Hi, this is Susan Hunter,” I said.

  “Susan! Hi!” she said cheerfully. “How are you?”

  I forced myself to put on my own cheerful voice. “Really well, Kathy. How are Steve and the kids?”

  “Everybody’s great,” she chirped. “The kids run me ragged sometimes, but they’re happy, doing well in school, and that’s good enough for me. What’s up?”

  “Kathy, my mom is sending a package to me from Texas,” I told her. “It’ll be at the post office tomorrow. Would you do a favor for me and leave it at the post office, so I can run in and grab it in the morning? I don’t want to have to wait for it to be delivered in the afternoon.”

  “Sure, Susan, no problem. How are your parents doing in Texas?” she asked.

  “They love Dallas, and they’re happier than I ever dreamed they would be,” I said. “I’m going to fly down to be with them for Christmas.” I paused for a few seconds. “Kathy, I’m sorry, I have to run, but let’s get together soon. It’ll be fun to catch up with each other.”

  “That would be great,” she agreed. “By the way, I saw in the paper you won a racquetball tournament down in Centertown. Congratulations. You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

  I tried to sound cheerful and hoped it didn’t sound forced. “I will, Kathy. Thank you, and thanks for setting the package aside for me. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I hung up the phone. Now I needed to come up with a plan. Before I could put any thoughts together, my phone rang again. It was Samantha.

  I answered the call. “Hi, Sam.”

  “Hi, Susan. Are we still on for racquetball tonight?” she asked. “I think Husky’s expecting us, too.”

  “Oops,” I said. “I completely forgot about it, and I’m not sure I can make it.”

  “That’s perfectly ok by me,” she said sounding relieved. “I’m not in a good mood anyway. I’m upset about the charges against Larry and Ron and the guys from Barney’s. It’s going to cost us a fortune.”

  “I haven’t heard anything about it,” I told her. “What’s going to happen to them?”

  She didn’t answer. “What are you doing right now?” she asked.

  “Nothing at the moment,” I hedged. “Why?”

  “How about meeting me at Bud’s in an hour. We can talk there,” she said.

  I hesitated for a moment. Detective Bentley wanted me to stay locked indoors, but staying alone in the apartment would only intensify my angst, so I agreed to meet her. “Ok, Sam, I’ll see you there.”

  Bud’s is a little hole-in-the-wall bar only a few minutes down the street from the racquetball club. It would be good to fill Samantha in on my situation and get her perspective. I knew I could trust her, and I wanted to know what she would do if she were me.

  When I arrived, she was already sitting at the far end of the bar. I perched on the stool beside her, and she leaned over to give me a hug. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” she said.

  “I know,” I said hugging her back. “I feel the same way.”

  Bud walked over to us and asked, “What’ll it be girls?”

  “Shots,” said Samantha. “Something strong, and keep ‘em comin’.” I raised my eyebrows at her. “Bud will call a cab for us if necessary,” she said with a little smile.

  “Ok, what’s up?” I asked her. “Why are you so upset?”

  She hung her head for a second, then looked up and sighed. “Well, it was funny at the time,” she said. “But Larry and the guys are facing fines of up to $2,000.00 each and six months in jail. Those nasty Blakelys next door are pushing the issue and wanting the maximum penalty. Now, Larry wants to move, and I don’t know if I can talk him out of it.”

  Bud set the first two shots on the bar. We threw them back. Whatever it was tasted awesome. It was sweet and tart at the same time and went down smooth with no burn at the back of my throat.

  “Sam, I’m sorry,” I said reaching over to pat her arm. “Good grief, there’s no way the Blakelys saw anything but naked butts running down to the lake. Did the guys walk naked back up to the house?” I asked her.

  “No,” she said while shaking her head. “When the police showed up, I sent Connie into the house for towels, and they all wrapped themselves up before coming out of the water. The Blakelys are hateful people and just won’t let this go.”

  Bud set two more shots down on the bar. We threw them back.

  “What about all of the pictures you took?” I asked her. “Did you get any full frontals?”

  “Nope,” she said shaking her head. “They were in front of me and running away from me all of the time. Even when I turned around to get pictures of Lou and Jeff, they passed by me so quickly, I only got their behinds.”

  “Sam, I think that’s your defense,” I told her excitedly. “Show the judge all of the pictures. You were taking so many it has to be obvious there wasn’t anything worse going on than a moon. That horrible Mrs. Blakely has been telling people we had a naked orgy.”

  Her eyes lit up. “That’s a good idea,” she said, “because I’m not moving. Larry and I are arguing over this, and we never fight. I love where we live, and I’m not letting mean and nosy neighbors force me out of my home.”

  “I agree,” I said nodding my head. “Fight this, Sam. You and Larry both need to fight this. Everybody at the party will testify they didn’t see anything.”

  “Did you?” she asked me.

  I tried to contain a smile. “Well, they did come running right at me from around the garage. I couldn’t help but to take a look at Ron. He’s such a player, and I’ve always wondered what he’s selling to all the girls.” I could no longer contain the huge smile and the accompanying blush.

  Her mouth fell open in astonishment, but only for a moment, and she burst out laughing. “I was thinking the same thing,” she said, “and I tried hard to get a look at him, but never did see. What’s he like?”

  Bud set two more shots on the bar. We threw them back.

  “They’re getting their money’s worth,” I said. We both broke out into uncontrollable laughter. I saw Bud turn his back to us, but not before I caught him laughing with us. We were obviously entertaining him tonight.

  Before I knew it, my laughter nearly turned to tears. Why does that happen? I needed to pull us back to more important matters. I lowered my voice and said, “Samantha, I really need to talk to you about something.” I never call her Samantha, and I could see alarm in her eyes. She knew something was wrong.

  “It’s way too long of a story,” I told her, “but let me give you the short version.”