Under the Cajun Moon (53 page)

Turning around, I leaned against the counter and looked through the kitchen window at the glistening sand and the blue-gray expanse of the Pacific Ocean beyond. I thought how very far I was—both literally and figuratively—from the gentle plains and rolling hills of Amish country back home.

“That is not all,” Lydia added before I could form my response, and from the tone of her voice, I could tell the situation was about to get more complicated.

“Okay, then wait a second,” I said, once again almost unable to hear thanks to the clunking noises Kiki was making upstairs. I couldn’t fathom what she was doing, though from the bumps and scrapes, it sounded as though she was rearranging the furniture. If so, that was a good thing as it meant I’d still have a chance at carpooling. I asked Lydia to give me the number she had called from, explaining that I needed to switch our conversation over to my cell phone. We hung up, and immediately I retrieved my cell from the charger, turned it on, and called her back.

“Sorry about that. Go ahead with what you were telling me. There’s more?”

“Yes. All night, I have been thinking about the apartment, about the mess that had been made, about our things. I worried that whoever had been there
did
take something.” She hesitated, and as I waited for her to go
on, I assembled our lunches into brown paper bags and set them near the door along with my purse, keys, and sunglasses. “Bobby has a metal box filled with all of our important papers: birth certificates, marriage license, things like that. Early this morning I started thinking about that box, that maybe they took our papers, our information. A woman at the bridal shop where I do alterations had identity theft once, and I worry that we might have that too. So when Caleb went over to the apartment a while ago to fix the lock, I asked him to bring back that box. I knew it had been gone through, because last night it was open on the floor in front of the cabinet.”

“And?” I prodded, leaving the kitchen and moving through the living room toward the stairs.

“And Caleb brought me the box and everything was there, even our Social Security cards. Even the credit card we keep for emergencies. Only one thing was gone. I am so sorry, Anna.”

I paused halfway up the stairs as her words sunk in.
Why was she sorry?

“It was a sealed envelope. Inside was your new name, your address, your phone numbers. When Bobby put it in there years ago, he told me what it was but said I was never to open it unless something happened to him and I needed to contact you. That envelope…it is gone, Anna. Someone took your information. If he had not given me this number last night over the phone, I would have had no way to reach you.”

“Lydia, hold on a minute,” I managed to say.

“
Yah,
sure.”

As she waited, silent, at the other end of the line, I walked slowly up the rest of the stairs, trying to understand the implications of what had happened—and what I could do about it now. I needed to think.

When I reached the top, I took a deep breath and knocked on Kiki’s door, intending to tell her I was running late and she would have to go to work without me. Getting no response, I crossed the hall to my own room and reached for the knob. It twisted, but the door wouldn’t swing open.

“I’m sorry, Lydia. Keep holding,” I said into the receiver. Then I tucked the open phone in my shorts pocket so I could use both hands and a hip
to work open the door that was always getting stuck. More than anything, I needed to sit in the privacy of my room, finish this call, clear my head, and
think.

“Come on,” I whispered, jiggling and pushing until the door finally broke free.

As it swung open, I stepped inside, startled when my foot caught on something—something big and warm and lying on the floor. Before I could stop myself, I was falling. My knees and hands hit the ground as the phone shot from my pocket and skittered across the room. I turned to see what had tripped me and gasped. It was Kiki, lying on the floor, her eyes closed, her face covered with blood.

Trying not to scream, I turned back around, and that’s when I saw him, a man standing across the room dressed in black and wearing a ski mask. At his feet was my open cell phone.

Without a word, he reached down with a gloved hand and gave the phone a push so that it slid back across the room to me.

“Finish your conversation and hang up,” he said softly, his voice menacing and unfamiliar. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. Slowly, I picked up the phone, weighing my options.

“Anna?” Lydia’s voice was saying over the phone line. “Anna, are you still there? Please do not be too upset. I do not know why anyone would go to such desperate measures to find you after all these years. I just wanted you to know that someone might call you.”

I tried to reply, but my voice was lost somewhere deep in my throat. I swallowed again, watching with wide eyes as the man pointed a gun straight at me.

“Anna? Are you there?” Lydia persisted. “I’m sorry, but I suppose it is possible that someone might even come looking for you.”

I cleared my throat and took a deep breath.

“You may be right about that,” I said finally into the receiver. “More than you know.”

With the man’s gun still pointed toward me, I somehow managed to conclude my call, promising the distraught and confused Lydia that I’d
be in touch as soon as possible. As I disconnected, I wondered if I was cutting off the one chance I had to scream for help and be heard. Then again, how could she possibly help me from an Amish farm three thousand miles away?

“Who are you?” I asked as I put the phone in my pocket and tried not to sound as scared as I felt. “What have you done?”

Instinctively, I reached for Kiki’s wrist and felt for a pulse, which was faint but still there. Turning my attention to her face, I pushed back her hair to find the source of the bleeding. I expected to see a bullet wound, but instead it looked more like a gash, the result of being hit in the head by something hard and sharp edged, probably the butt of his gun.

“Your friend didn’t want to cooperate,” the man said. “Maybe you can learn by her example.”

He took a step closer, and as he did, I stood, anger and adrenaline pumping through my veins.

“What do you want?”

“I think you know what I want,” he replied, his eyes boring into me through the holes in the ski mask. “I’m here for the rubies. The whole set.”

“The
rubies
? What rubies?”

He took another step toward me, with something like excitement flashing in his eyes.

“The Beauharnais Rubies. I know you have them.”

He might as well have asked me for the Hope Diamond or the Crown Jewels. I had no rubies in my possession—and no idea what he was even talking about.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said earnestly, stepping backward and nearly tripping again over Kiki’s body. “I drive a car that’s held together by duct tape. I have less than a hundred dollars in my checking account. Do you really think I’d be living this way if I had something as valuable as rubies?”

“Who knows why anyone lives as they do?” he replied. “Get them. Now.”

“This is crazy,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re crazy. You have the wrong person, the wrong house.”

He spoke evenly, cocking his gun.

“Your name is Annalise Bailey Jensen, currently going by the name of Anna Bailey. You are the sister of Robert ‘Bobby’ Jensen, the daughter of Charles Jensen and a descendant of Peter and Jonas and Karl Jensen, among others. I’m in the right house, and you’re the right person. Now hand them over.” Whoever this guy was, he knew more about my family tree than I did. But what he was asking for was ridiculous. I had never owned any rubies—and doubted I ever would.

Looking around, I tried to decide what my chances would be if I made a run for it. He was tall and looked strong under the form-fitting black shirt—though the ski mask could become a bit of an impediment. Unfortunately, as he spoke his steps had closed much of the gap between us.

“I’ll ask you one more time, and then I’ll have to get serious,” he said, coming to a stop in front of me and resting the gun barrel against my temple. “Where…are…the…rubies?”

Discover the Smart Chick Mysteries

by Mindy Starns Clark

The Trouble with Tulip

Josephine Tulip is most definitely a smart chick, a twenty-first-century female MacGyver who writes a helpful-hints column and solves mysteries in her spare time. Her best friend, Danny, is a talented photographer who longs to succeed in his career…perhaps a cover photo on
National Geographic?

When Jo’s neighbor is accused of murder, Jo realizes the police have the wrong suspect. As she and Danny analyze clues, follow up on leads, and fall in and out of trouble, she recovers from a broken heart, and he discovers that he has feelings for her. Will Danny have the courage to reveal them, or will he continue to hide them behind a facade of friendship?

Blind Dates Can Be Murder

Blind dates give everyone the shivers…with or without a murder attached to them. Jo Tulip is a sassy single woman full of household hints and handy advice for every situation. Her first romantic outing in months is a blind date—okay, the Hall of Fame of Awful Blind Dates—but things go from bad to worse when the date drops dead and Jo finds herself smack in the middle of a murder investigation.

With the help of her best friend, Danny, and faith in God, Jo attempts to solve one exciting mystery while facing another: Why is love always so complicated?

Elementary, My Dear Watkins

When someone tries to push Jo Tulip in front of a New York train, her ex-fiancé, Bradford, suffers an injury while saving her—and the unintentional sleuth is thrown onto the tracks of a very personal mystery.

Jo’s boyfriend, Danny Watkins, is away in Paris, so she begins a solo investigation of her near-murder. What secret was Bradford about to share before he took the fall? And when Jo uncovers clues tied to Europe, can she and Danny work together in time to save her life?