Priced to Move

“You’ll be holding cell bars sooner or later,” I mutter as I head for the wooden panel. “How do you intend to find a parcel of rubies in our vault? Do you have any idea how large it is? How many thousands of parcels we store there?”

“I only got a quick look that other day before you barged in.”

“That’s right. You checked it out when you rubbed out Mr. Pak.”

Tiffany rolls her eyes. “That’s nasty, Andie. Mr. Pak was just a problem I had to deal with. Now let’s find the rubies.”

Certain I have no other alternative, at least not right now, I open the vault door. “Knock yourself out, Tiff. Tell me how one parcel looks different from another—unless you know exactly where he put them, what he put them in . . . you get my drift.”

“I know where he was when I found him.”

“Show me.”

“I plan to. You’re going to be the one doing the touching. Not me. I know about fingerprints. I watch CSI.”

But you haven’t figured out they always, one way or the other, catch the crook.

Inside the vault, I flick on the light, and gaze down the length of the vast, shelf-lined room. Multiple millions of dollars’ worth of jewelry and gemstones fill the trays on the shelves.

I gesture for her to come inside. “What do you plan to do with the rubies?”

She motions with the gun for me to go farther in, then pulls the vault door behind her. “Sell them.”

Great. She’s not dumb enough to let me get between her and freedom. I’ll have to keep her talking until I think of something else. “You have a buyer?”

“Roger does. But he chickened out, Roger did. Suddenly he doesn’t want to have anything to do with stolen stuff.”

“And Mr. Pak was bringing the stones for Roger to fence them?”

“Not hardly. There was a bunch of other people after him. Everyone wants those rubies. But he had some crazy idea that you could take them back to Myanmar. He didn’t want the government to say he’d stolen them, and then ban him from the country. His business would shrivel up if they did that.” “Me? Why me?”

Tiffany shrugs. “I guess he figured no one would ever think you’re smart enough to pull off something like this.”

And you’re a rocket scientist, right?

“How did Mr. Pak wind up with the rubies?”

“I’m not sure, but I think they went from the guy who took them, to another guy—a couple more, really—then they went to a cutter in Thailand. Somehow, Mr. Pak got hold of them, and Roger’s wanted them since Mr. Pak first told him about the stones.”

The longer I keep her babbling about how smart she is, the better my chances of Julie getting back here.

“So I was supposed to return them. Because I’m too dumb to steal them. That makes a whole lot of sense.”

Tiffany shrugs. “I never said Mr. Pak was smart. He should have sold the rubies. They’re worth a lot of money.”

“So’s Roger. Why do you want more?”

Her eyes bug out. “Are you serious? There’s lots and lots more stuff I want.”

“So it’s all about what you want.”

“Isn’t that what life’s all about?”

“No. Not really. Life’s about meaning and service and God’s plan.” Where’s my copy of The Purpose-Driven Life when I need it?

“You can do the God thing. I’ll stick to what I can touch and see. And right now, I’m not touching or seeing those rubies. Find them!”

I wave. “See all those racks? They’re full of gemstones. Why don’t you take a bunch? They’ll sell for plenty.”

That was the wrong thing to say. She jabs the gun my way. “Get going, Andie. You know what’s in the parcels. You know they won’t bring as much as the rubies. Find them. I already have that buyer.”

I act helpless—not a stretch right now. “Where do you want me to look?”

She points to a spot on a shelf right by where Mr. Pak died. “There. And don’t waste any more time.”

Things can’t get any worse, right?

Wrong.

The bathroom door opens. Clump-clump, clump-clump.

“Back,” Tiffany says, checking the door. It hasn’t clicked, but to an uninformed onlooker, like Aunt Weeby, it would looked closed.

The cast clumps closer. “You did say she came to put away the pretties she had on the show, right, Max?” Aunt Weeby yells.