“No, but two other employees are here under observation. Just like you.”
My curiosity raises its head. “Any reason why some are just fine and others of us aren’t?”
“I’ve been listening to the three of you all this while,”
Wilma, the nurse, says. “Y’all are fascinating. But I didn’t have anything to add to what you’ve said up to now. Now, I do. Have something to say, that is. Some folks are just more sensitive to any particular toxic substance than others. It seems you’re more sensitive to natural gas than these two here.”
“Figures,” I mutter.
“Is that all you learned?” Aunt Weeby asks. “In all this time? What were you and your boys doing, Donald? Playing Barbie’s gone to Malibu with those stupid Capri things Mona ordered for Danni’s show?”
The chief, Barbie dolls, and Danni’s spandex Capris in one sentence is too much for me. I howl. And then my sore throat makes me hack.
Chief Clark does not approve. “No, Miz Weeby, I weren’t playing dress-up and neither were my men. We went over that there building of Mona Latimer’s inch by inch. And, if you really want to know, we found plenty.”
I lean forward. “What kind of plenty did you find?”
“It wasn’t just the tampered gas line we found. We found a rummaged mess everywhere else. Whoever trashed the place knew what he or she was doing, and worked mighty fast, since he only had the time while we got everyone out and settled with the EMTs and ambulances.”
Rummaged. “Come again?”
“It’s not so hard, Miss Andie,” the lawman says. “Someone ransacked the studio. And they didn’t miss a room.”
It’s all about the rubies. The missing Burmese rubies.
After the chief dropped his bombshell, I didn’t say much more. What could I say? And even now, hours later, I still don’t have much to say; I don’t have a clue how to go about this business of figuring out who, what (well, I know what), when, where (know that too . . . sorta), and why. And that last one, the why of it all, is the real doozy.
Why did anyone do any of this? Well, stealing a fortune in legendary rubies is a no-brainer for the shadier element among humankind. But nothing else is.
At least, nothing else is easy for me or the chief or Aunt Weeby. Not for Miss Mona either, and forget about Max.
I do know who knows what it’s all about, but he’s not talking, not loud enough for any of us to hear, at any rate. As I always do when I’m in a mess, I reach for my faith, and give him a ring on my prayer line. But as usual, God’s keeping his peace.
When too much thinking makes my head hurt, I doze off. Later, beats me how much later, the phone rings. Even in the hospital, and half dopey from sleep, a call-deprived woman like me can’t let a call go by. “Hello?”
“It’s Peggy. How are you? Is everyone okay? The gas leak’s all over the papers and the evening news.”
“I never aspired to fifteen minutes of this kind of fame.” I crank up the bed, and this time only wince at the slight dizziness. “Everyone’s okay. There are three of us still in the hospital, but mostly for observation.”
“I hope they keep a good eye on you, woman. You’re a magnet.”
“Don’t you start with that. I do a good enough job of beating myself up.”
“What do you mean? Why would you beat yourself up?” “Look at all the trouble that follows me.”
Peggy doesn’t answer right away, and I realize I haven’t talked to her since I got back from Myanmar. “You know what? You’re at a disadvantage here. You don’t know what happened on our trip.”
She chuckles. “Well? Are you going to tell me?”
I do. Once I’m done, she says, “Who do you think stole the rubies?”
“So you agree that’s the key to everything.”
“Hello! Two plus two still equals four.”
I sigh. “I don’t know what all’s going on. And I don’t know who stole the rubies. I can’t see Mr. Pak taking them. He always struck me as the most honest man. But . . . who knows? Maybe he did. And if he did, why? Why would he do something so unlike him?”
“Could he have stumbled on them? You say he travels all over the world. It’s not impossible that he . . . I don’t know. Saw them, identified them, and snagged them.”
“I suppose he could’ve found them somewhere where they shouldn’t have been. Maybe he was trying to return them to the rightful owner—I suppose that would be the government of Myanmar. But then, why did he come here? Why didn’t he just take them back to Myanmar?”
“How about this? What if Mr. Pak was killed by mistake? Could someone have fought him for the stones, bashed his head in to get the stones from him but killed him instead, and then taken off to avoid getting caught?”
“Are you saying someone followed him? Or do you think some garden-variety thief found out he carried gemstones with him and pulled off a plain old robbery?”
“Either one could work.”
“Aaarrrgh!” I don’t do frustration well, as I’m sure you know by now. “Okay, okay. How about this? If Mr. Pak did have the rubies, and if he was bringing them to . . . I don’t know, maybe sell them, who was he supposed to meet? You know it wasn’t me. No matter what that dopey cop thinks.” Peggy giggles. “Chief Clark’s okay. He
