Chapter Eighteen

“Garrett, we need to talk!”

“We can do that soon. I found Kelvin Huff.”

“That’s great news. I think. When are we going to see him?”

“Now.”

“I’m with Lily.”

“She can’t come.”

“I heard that,” said Lily.

“Am I on speakerphone?”

I darted a glance at the phone, just to check, then to Lily. “No?”

“No,” said Lily.

“Ears like a bat,” said Garrett. “She still can’t come. I only got you and me on the schedule and I only got that because I really piqued the warden’s interest.”

“What am I supposed to do?” asked Lily.

“Can you watch the Dugans’ house?” I asked.

“Surveillance?” I thought Lily’s face would fall with disappointment but her mouth split into a broad smile. “I can do that! I have snacks and water already in my car. Drop me back at my house and I’ll head over.”

“Okay,” I said, confused at how easy that was.

“Your mom can help,” she added.

“Great idea!” I gushed. Not only would my mother love that but she would also feel involved in the case she’d landed in my lap. Plus, she knew everyone in the neighborhood so if a single stranger stood out, she’d notice. Even better, Mom would be involved in the case far from where she could do any damage.

“You can tell me why Lily and Mom are doing that when you get to me. Meet me at the station,” said Garrett.

“Police station?”

“No, the train station. Of course the police station,” Garrett grunted before he disconnected and before I could tell him about the fake Joe Junior’s lies to Bea.

“Glad I’m not spending all that time in a car with Detective Grumpy,” said Lily, pulling a face.

“You volunteered to be with Mom.”

“And a bag of candy,” Lily reminded me. “And I already have my binoculars in my car so I’m good to go. Can I borrow the fancy camera the agency loans you for these kinds of tasks?”

“Yes.”

Lily beamed. “My day is made.”

“Do you know how to use it?”

“I will by the end of the day.”

I wished my day had been made but so far, it looked like it was unraveling. The possibility that Gideon Black was in town was disconcerting and I knew he had to have more up his sleeve than simply finding out what happened to his dad. Of course, it could be that he just wanted to bury him but I’d met Gideon in his Ben Rafferty guise. I’d read the dossier Garrett put together of his other identities. If there was a sniff of big money, there was no way he’d disregard it.

No, he had to be here for the jewels.

They had to be what he’d told Bea he was here to claim. Since he’d made up a ruse to visit her, I had to wonder if he’d try and infiltrate the Dugans’ home too.

Thankfully, the jewels were safe in MPD’s evidence locker where Ben couldn’t get to them. Or could he?

He’d stolen from under my nose before. There was no way I should underestimate him.

Yet I was certain he was up to something and I was going to stop him.

Right after I found him.

Right after I got back from my trip with Garrett.

I returned Lily to her house so she could get her car, and passed her the camera with its fancy zoom lens that I’d stored in my trunk since I last used it, along with instructions of whom to look out for. By the time I pulled away from the curb, she was already on the phone, breaking the good news to my mom.

Garrett waited in his car outside the police station, the engine idling at the curb. He barely moved a muscle as I hopped in, only breaking away from staring at his phone screen for a moment.

“We need to get going,” he said, reaching for the parking brake. “Tell me your news.”

“Charlie Black’s son is probably, almost most definitely, in town,” I said, filling him in on Mom’s comment and my subsequent visit to the retirement village.

“Probably almost most definitely?”

“One of those. Let’s go with definitely . At least the man Bea met with is purporting to be he. I don’t have a recent photo of Ben/Gideon so I had nothing to show Bea. Bea used to live next door to the Dugans’ house but she says she doesn’t remember the boy even though he claims to remember her.”

“I feel like you told me that story back to front. Should we look at Bea for any of this? Perhaps as an accomplice?” asked Garrett.

“No, I’m sure of that. She’s got sore hips and memory issues but she doesn’t strike me as a mastermind jewel thief.”

Garrett raised his eyebrows. “Did you show her the high school photo?”

“No, I wouldn’t trust a recent identification from that. It’s too old and Bea’s memory is a little hazy.” I paused, thinking. “I keep wondering if Gideon knew about the jewels before the newspaper story was published, and, if so, does he want them? Bea made it sound like the police contacted him about the discovery but you didn’t mention anything. Has he come to see you?”

“No.”

“Made any kind of contact with you?”

“Also no.”

“If he were here purely for his dad, I would think he’d make contact with you,” I said.

“Not if he’s afraid we’d arrest him.”

“For you to arrest him, he would have to know that we know who he is, and that would mean he had insider info. I can’t see how he would have that connection.”

Garrett shook his head. “I can’t see him ever planning on coming back here after that case where you nearly caught him. I can’t rule it out but I can’t see it either. Even if we didn’t know a thing about Gideon Black, we do know about Ben Rafferty.”

“That’s fair,” I agreed, “but it’s still suspicious that his first action in town is to track down his father’s neighbor and not check in with the coroner or you. What kind of son doesn’t claim his missing father’s remains?”

“If it’s really him,” Garrett reminded me, “we need to get verification. I’ll alert my team to be extra cautious about any contact or tipoffs. The tip line has already been ringing off the hook since that newspaper article was published. We’ve had a few claims to be sons or siblings but when challenged, they didn’t even have the basic facts.”

“I guess people will always try. Garrett, I wonder how Gideon got here so fast. Even if he were tipped off, do you think he was nearby?”

“Could be. He might maintain ties to Boston. Maybe here too if this was the last place he knew his father lived before he disappeared. Or he could be in any number of cities within driving distance.” Garrett paused to navigate a turn, his fingers tapping the steering wheel in the way that told me he was thinking. “He might try and find out what we know before he dares to approach. I’m not entirely sure I know what to tell my team to look for. A Caucasian male in his thirties or appearing to be in his forties, possibly dark hair, doesn’t narrow it down by much.”

“I have Lily and Mom parked outside the Dugans’ in case he goes there,” I said. “Bea told him everything was thrown away so he knows there’s nothing left there of his father’s.”

“Can’t imagine he will but at least we know where Mom and Lily are.” Garrett cracked a smile.

“He might suspect something else is hidden there. After all, his dad’s body was secretly buried there for years and the article revealed the jewels. I’m surprised we don’t have fortune hunters digging up the Dugans’ whole backyard.”

“We’ve had plenty of hopefuls call our tip line with descriptions of anything from a bag of diamonds of undetermined number to missing engagement rings. According to the tip line, this guy could have been responsible for every jewel theft across the state in the last fifty years.”

“He probably was responsible for some of them,” I decided. “Where are we headed anyway? You said we’re going to see Kelvin Huff?”

“I did. As we thought, he’s still serving time but officially only has a few months left to go. Since he’s been a model prisoner these past few years, he’s getting a few months shaved off and will be out next week. He got transferred to a facility closer to his girlfriend, preparing for release. Took me a while to find him as his name was spelled incorrectly in the system. Or we had it incorrect. I don’t know. Anyway, good news is it will only take us ninety minutes to get to Barnham Correctional Facility and the meeting has been cleared with the warden. I asked him not to give Huff a heads-up as I don’t want him over-thinking his answers before we get there.”

“Or lying.”

“That too. The warden says Huff’s not all that smart and mostly keeps his head down. He’s not violent and looking forward to getting out. I don’t think we’ll have any problem interviewing him. He’s probably been stewing on his misdemeanors for years so I hope we find him chatty about his life before. There’s a file on the backseat with his info. I didn’t turn up anything on Timothy Wright.” Garrett nodded over his shoulder without taking his gaze off the road. “And there’s an appraiser coming from Rachenstein in a couple days to take a look at the jewels to see if they’re the real deal.”

“What happens if they are?”

“They’ll eventually be repatriated.”

“And if not?”

“Come up with a convincing enough story for the tip line and they could be yours.” Garrett winked and I laughed. “Apparently, the bounty for any leads resulting in their return is still active.” Garrett named a figure and I whistled.

“The Dugans will be interested to hear that,” I said, “and Ruby too.”

The drive to the jail was uneventful and not long after we hit the freeway, I stopped looking over my shoulder for possible tails. Eventually, with the traffic flowing and the radio turned up and pumping out pop songs, I relaxed. By the time we arrived, turning into the parking lot and showing the guard our credentials, I was in a positive mood. If Kelvin Huff knew anything about the jewel heist, and how he might have been used as a chump, I felt sure he would tell us.

Instead of the general public’s visitation room, a guard showed us into a small meeting room with a table bolted to the floor and a window eight feet high in the wall. Probably at the time of building the facility, the room was painted cream and now it had a smattering of scuff marks, a panic button, and was entirely devoid of anything pleasant to look at.

As Garrett placed his file on the table — the only thing we hadn’t logged into the guard’s possession — he indicated I should take a seat and he did the same. Then we waited.

Finally, the door opened and a ratty-looking man with a receding hairline, dressed in a gray sweat-suit, entered.

“You must be Kelvin Huff,” said Garrett, extending his hand to the man as soon as the guard removed his handcuffs.

The man shook his hand, eyeing us both wearily. “I am. And that would make you?”

“Lieutenant Garrett Graves and this is Private Investigator Lexi Solomon,” said Garrett as he flashed his badge.

I opened my mouth to correct my surname then realized Garrett had omitted half of it purposefully, not giving our sibling relationship away.

“Take a seat,” said Garrett. “Can I get you anything? A coffee? Soda? Candy? Cigarettes?”

“Yes to the soda and candy. No to the cigarettes. Never could stand the things and I don’t care to use them as currency either.”

“I’ll be right back,” I said and headed to the door to retrieve the items, pleasantly surprised that no misogynistic comments followed me. I knocked and the guard unlocked the door, watching me as I slid money into the vending machine further down the corridor. I retrieved a Coke and two candy bars and he let me back into the room.

“Thanks,” said Huff when I deposited them in front of him. He reached for the Coke, snapped open the ring pull, and took a long glug. “To what do I owe this pleasure? I know I’m not in trouble for anything so I guess you’re looking for information on something or someone?”

“Smart guess,” said Garrett, nodding congenially. “You’re right.”

“Go ahead. If I can answer, I will. I figure you know already that I’m getting out soon so I don’t need to trade for any favors but if you feel like adding to my commissary account, I’d be obliged.” He leaned back in his seat, his hand wrapped around the can, looking entirely at ease.

“I’ll see what I can do. Have you got somewhere to go?” asked Garrett, his voice far more casual than his question but Huff didn’t appear to notice as he nodded.

“Man, I have plenty of places to go. I’ve been locked up a long time and I’m looking forward to seeing the world again.” He gave me a tight smile before returning his attention to Garrett. “So what can I help you with?”

“We’re looking at a cold case from New York, almost twenty years ago,” said Garrett.

Huff held up a hand and nodded. “The museum,” he cut in. “That was a big story back then. How come you’re asking about it now?”

“How’d you know that was what we were asking about?” I asked.

“Ah, she speaks. Figured you might be the bad cop,” said Huff with a wink. “Literally nothing else of interest happened in my life there except all that to-do with the museum and that unfortunate incident of grand larceny. I’ve almost done my time on the second so it had to be the first.”

“You’re a smart guy,” said Garrett.

Huff nodded sagely, his face serene like he’d heard that all the time. “I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on my life and get a little education in here,” he said, spreading his hands like he was a guru talking to a rapt assembly.

“What can you tell us about the museum theft?”

“I’m sorry to waste your time but not much.” He reached for a candy bar, peeling the wrapper slowly like he wasn’t so uncouth as to rip it off and eagerly devour the contents. I would have if I’d served as long as he had, with little access to the commissary. I’d have bitten my hand off for it. “A detective interviewed me back when it happened. I don’t remember his name but there will be a file somewhere that’s better than my memory.”

“Detective Phipps?” asked Garrett.

“Could be,” said Huff. He shrugged and refocused his attention on the candy bar, savoring every bite.

Garrett opened his file, appearing to read, although I was sure he’d memorized all the pertinent details. “I have here that you were on the maintenance crew the museum hired for a refresh prior to an important exhibition.”

“That’s right. I was on the painting detail. Walls, ceilings, woodwork, I can do it all.”

“And you worked with a guy called Timothy Wright.”

Huff shrugged. “I’m not so good with names unless they’re on a paint can.” He laughed.

“Says here you got Wright the job.” Garrett tapped the file.

“Nice of me.”

“So how did you know him?”

“Who?”

“Timothy Wright.”

“Oh, hardly at all, I think. It’s coming back to me. I think he lived down the street from me. There was a bar on the corner, crappy, little place but the beer was cheap. Probably a Starbucks now. We got to talking one day and Tim asked what I did for work on account of the paint splashes on my hands. Said he was looking for a job if there were any openings. Figured he was an okay sort of guy so I told my supervisor and Tim got called in. They didn’t want to put him on the museum job and he was kind of grousing about it, then the day before the job starts, one of the guys had an accident and they needed to fill his spot.”

“An accident?” I asked.

“Got jumped. Broke his arm. Can’t paint with a broken arm.”

“That’s unfortunate,” said Garrett, glancing at me.

“Right.” Huff nodded and shrugged as he swallowed the last bite. “That tasted so good,” he said, heaving a sigh while he crumpled the wrapper. “When I get out, I have to avoid going nuts on these things or I’m gonna end up the size of a house in six months.”

“So Timothy Wright gets the job in the museum. Did you work with him the whole time?” I asked, moving Huff along before he forgot what we came here to talk about.

“I don’t recall. I guess so. He was painting, just like me.”

“Were you working in the same room?”

Huff shrugged and his gaze shifted to the remaining candy bar. “Maybe. Some of the time, for sure. I think he did some woodwork stuff too.”

“Did you notice him leaving for any lengths of time or doing any tasks he wasn’t assigned to be doing?” asked Garrett.

“No, I don’t think so but I was concentrating on my work. It was a high-end job and they pay better so at the time, I suppose I was seeking more of them and wanted to do a good job.”

“What can you tell us about Timothy Wright?”

“Nothing much. Okay guy. Put his hand in his pocket so he was popular with the guys. You could rely on him to get you a beer or stand you lunch if you forgot yours. He’d take an extra shift if one of the guys needed to swap too.”

“Sounds like a nice guy.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What happened after?” asked Garrett.

“What do you mean?” asked Huff.

“After the robbery at the museum. You all got interviewed. Did you stay in the job?”

“Yeah, I did. We didn’t get any more high-end stuff though, what with the hit to the firm’s reputation. Just shop fitting and house painting and stuff like that. Easy in, easy out.”

“What about Timothy?”

“I don’t recall. Hey, maybe I remember he got a job out of state a couple months after, said he was looking for a change. Gave his week’s notice.”

“Did he say where he was going or anything about the job he took?”

“No, I don’t think so. Or maybe he did, and I don’t remember.”

“Did he show a lot of interest in the jewels at the museum?”

Huff took another long slurp of Coke. “I think everyone was a little curious but I don’t recall Tim being any more so than anyone else. There was a lot of specu.. Speckle… what’s the word?”

“Speculation,” I supplied.

“Yeah, that. A lot of spec-u-lation afterwards,” he said, careful to pronounce the word. “I gotta write that one down. I’m trying to improve my vocabulary.”

“The file says you were talking about leaving and buying a boat somewhere,” said Garrett.

Huff laughed and spread his arms out. “How do you like it?” he asked, then shook his head. “A pipe dream. I talked a lot of crap back then.”

“Where did you plan on getting the money for a boat?”

“I didn’t really think about it much. Like I said, my pipe dream. I don’t even like the sea that much but I did like playing the lottery.” He unwrapped the second candy bar and bit into it, making “Mmm” noises. “So why all the questions about Tim? Did he have something to do with it?”

Garrett ignored that, asking instead, “Did he ever mention having a kid?”

“I have no idea, man.”

“You had a little girl, right? You never spoke about your kid?”

“My little girl is all grown up now. You know how many times she’s come to visit me? None. Her mom poisoned her against me a long time ago.”

“Sorry to hear that,” said Garrett. “So you never sat around chatting about the kids?”

“I don’t know, maybe. It was too long ago. I couldn’t tell you what I asked the guard twenty minutes ago. I sure as heck can’t tell you what I had a conversation about twenty years ago.”

“Did Timothy leave you a forwarding address?”

“Can’t say he did. He never came back to the city to visit either but we weren’t best buddies. I don’t think I’d even seen him for a while before I got pinched.”

“So he left the crew some time between the museum robbery and you getting arrested for the paintings theft? That was, what…” Garrett flicked through the pages casually, “a few months later?”

“Uh… I don’t know. I guess so? Maybe? You should try asking one of the maintenance crew supervisors. Even better, ask Tim!”

“We would but we recently found a body that we believe to be his.”

Huff stopped chewing. “How’d you know it’s him?” he asked, his mouth full.

“We were able to make a match from a medical database as he had a pin in his leg.”

“How’d he die?”

“He was shot.”

Huff pushed out his jaw, pursing his lips, and nodded. “That’s rough. Like I said, he never visited so I can’t tell you what he’s been doing or who he’s been hanging around with. You know, now I think about it, he did have a few rougher friends. Those loan shark kind of guys. Fancy themselves as the mafia. Yeah, I reckon I saw him hanging with some guys like that back in the city. Maybe he owed them money or something. Or had a thing with one of their wives. He was a charming guy. My mom, rest her soul, would say he was the ‘smooth-tongued sort.’”

“And you didn’t think to mention it earlier?” asked Garrett.

“It’s been a long time and I’m telling you now. Guess you just jogged my memory.” He seemed to remember the candy bar he was holding and took another bite, pointing the reminder at me. “Mighty nice of you to get this for me. Wish I could be more helpful. Sorry to hear that about Tim. You said he had a boy? Can’t be nice for him. Can’t say I know why you’re asking me all this stuff though. I’ve been inside for a long time. Maybe you should find someone who knows him now.”

“Timothy Wright was killed a long time ago.”

This time, Huff’s head shot up. “Say what now? That so? Guess those Mafia guys caught up with him. Yeah, I think he might have taken out a loan with them or maybe he was gambling down in Atlantic City. Yeah, that’s right. He’d taken a loan out and they kept hiking the interest. The crew and I went down to Atlantic City a couple times after we got our bonuses. Maybe Tim came with us. I know I didn’t have any luck. Guess I never do.” He shrugged. “So I’m here thinking you’re asking me about Tim and the museum robbery for a reason. Do you think he did it?” He studied the candy bar like he was calculating exactly how many bites he had left, apparently more interested in that than the question. Yet I was sure he watched us from under his lashes.

“It looks that way. He was buried in a shallow grave,” said Garrett.

“Horrible way to go.”

“A pouch of jewels was found on him.”

Huff froze. “Uh huh?” he forced out.

“They look very similar to the stolen, unrecovered jewels from the museum.”

“That so?”

“We think whoever killed him didn’t realize Timothy had the jewels on him.”

“Then they’re a damn fool,” said Huff softly before he crammed the rest of the candy bar into his mouth.