The Chocolate Falcon Fraud (19 page)

Of course, as we ate breakfast we didn't know the day was going to be as full of threats and thrills as any noir movie. No, we talked about mundane things.

Tess was delighted to have her car back, and Jeff was eager to get a look at his. Joe, who was the only one of us who had seen the car, warned him that the damage was extensive.

“It may be totaled,” he said. “Whoever wrecked it ran it right off into the woods and into a ravine. Who carries your insurance?”

Jeff found his insurance cards, and they called the Dallas insurance agent to tell him what had happened. Joe promised me he'd help Jeff get action under way and would not let him become too exhausted by the process.

As we finished eating, Hogan showed up. He accepted a cup of coffee, and the six of us sat around the breakfast table while he gave us instructions. That was when Jeff and Tess first heard about the possibility of a kidnapping plot.

Tears welled up in Tess' eyes, but she didn't say anything.

Jeff blustered, “That's stupid! My dad wouldn't give a nickel for ransom. Not for me. It can't be true!”

We all ignored that remark. Obviously Rich would give every cent he had in the world if Jeff were in danger. And in his heart, Jeff knew that.

Hogan kept talking. “A kidnapping plot makes more sense than thinking someone simply tried to kill you, Jeff. Unless you're involved with some activity that would tempt someone to blow you away?”

Jeff looked mystified. “What do you mean?”

“Have you been selling drugs?” Hogan asked. “Robbing banks? Drugging women at parties?”

“No! I wouldn't do anything like that. I lead a dull life. I volunteer at the museum. I swim a couple of times a week. I work in an antiques shop, for God's sake! And I sell movie memorabilia. Tess is the only thing interesting in my life. There's no reason for anybody to kill me.”

“But those things happened. If nobody wants to kill you, it could be they wanted to kidnap you.”

Jeff frowned, but he didn't say anything more.

Hogan spoke firmly. “Kidnapping makes more sense than anything else, Jeff. I want all of us to act as if it's true. Now, this doesn't mean you have to sit in your room surrounded by armed guards. No, we want to fool these guys, make them think none of us suspects anything. If they come up and speak to you, try to act normal. For example, this Noel Kayro claims to be a friend of yours.”

“There was a volunteer at the museum, Hal, who did a Joel Cairo impersonation,” Jeff said. “I wouldn't say we were close friends, but I worked with him. Sometimes we had coffee or something.”

“I think that's the guy who's here for the festival. He may be
on the up-and-up, but he could be in with the bad guys. Now, I assume you'd like to go to the film festival. If Kayro wants to talk to you there, can you respond the way you would normally?”

“I can try.”

“Good! If you have trouble, tell him all about your concussion. Blame that. In fact, it would be good to tell him you've lost your memory.”

“Which I have. Pieces of it.”

“I know. But play it up big. And treat the rest of the group the same way. Grossman and the girl, whatever name she's using today. Act as if you don't suspect anything.

“And, Tess?” Hogan shifted his attention. “Can you act normally?”

“I can try,” she said. “If it will help catch them.”

“Good girl! But if Kayro or anybody else wants you to wander off with them, don't go!”

We all laughed at the thought of wandering off with a potential kidnapper.

“Don't laugh!” Hogan's voice was firm. “Be cautious. It's like telling children not to get into cars with strangers. If someone comes up to a child and says, ‘Your mother sent me. I'm supposed to bring you home,' children don't see the guy as a stranger. Experiments have shown that most kids will get right in the guy's car. Jeff, you're not dumb, but if they try to entice you away, they'll have a plausible story. Maybe ‘Tess needs to talk to you' or ‘You've got a phone call from your mom.' Savvy?”

We all nodded solemnly, and Hogan went on. “Don't even walk across the room to buy a Coke with one of these guys. And don't drink a Coke, or even a glass of water, one of them brings you. Don't fall for it.”

I think he put a scare into all of us. Anyway, he made me think.

As soon as Hogan left, Joe and Jeff took off to see about the car. Bodyguard Bob went along.

Tess was fretting to go, too, but settled for doing a little laundry and pacing the floor. However, Jeff and Joe and Bob were back by noon. Jeff shook his head at the state of his Lexus, but the adjuster was to take a look at it that afternoon, and Jeff had been able to get some of his belongings out of the trunk.

“Hey, Tess!” he said. “My merchandise is okay. Maybe I can open up a booth at the film festival.”

“Great! But I don't want you to work too hard.”

“I may not be able to afford to deal,” Jeff said. “If the booths are expensive . . . well, there's no point in losing money. I didn't bring very much stock.”

I called to check on the price of a small booth, and Jeff decided it wasn't too high. The dealers' room was to open at one o'clock, and Mary Kay McCurley said she'd put Jeff's name on a table.

So Jeff, impatiently claiming he wasn't tired, left for the film festival, this time accompanied by Tess and Bodyguard Bob.

Tess and Jeff seemed to be content, but I wasn't. I wanted to know what Hogan was doing about arresting this bunch of con men and crooks who, we believed, had come to Warner Pier with a complicated plan. First, they were trying to make money by fooling a young collector and dealer. Next, they were trying to make a lot more money by kidnapping him.

Naturally I tried asking Joe if he knew what was going on. He merely pleaded innocent.

“Lee, I feel sure something is going on. If Hogan sees danger
to Jeff, he's not going to stand by and let it happen. But he hasn't confided in me.”

With everybody else gone, I decided to go to the office. Which was useless, as it turned out. I was so keyed up about what was going on elsewhere that I got no work done. I just ate a chocolate malt truffle (“milk chocolate filling rolled in a milk chocolate shell and decorated with a dusting of malt cocoa”). Then I sulked and felt sorry for myself.

Finally, about three o'clock, I gave up and told Aunt Nettie and Dolly Jolly I was going to check in on the film festival. I made up a box of four truffles for Mary Kay. She'd mentioned she was partial to the combination of chocolate and ginger, so I picked two Asian Spice (“milk chocolate inside and out, with a dusting of ground ginger”) and two Ginger Wasabi (“dark chocolate filling enrobed with more dark chocolate and embellished with crystallized ginger”).

The film festival was being held at the Warner Point Convention Center. This center had originated as a house built by Joe's first wife, Clementine Ripley, a nationally known defense attorney. When she died without signing a new will, her entire estate went to Joe, who was also named executor.

Joe did not receive the property joyfully. In fact, he was mad as hops and considered the inheritance a pain in the—well, in the patootie.

At the time Clementine Ripley died, she and Joe had been divorced for two years, but some of their property issues had not been settled. Joe had been trying to break any final ties with her. He and I had just met, and he told me at the time that having her very complicated estate dropped into his lap was a
nightmare. Simply refusing to accept the property wasn't legally practical, so he had to step in and settle things, but he resented it.

Among her holdings was the Warner Point property, located on a peninsula extending out into Lake Michigan. This included acres of valuable lakefront land, a large house, and several smaller buildings. It was worth millions, but it was also heavily mortgaged. It took another two years for Joe to get the property free and clear. He then presented it to the City of Warner Pier on the condition that his name never be publicly disclosed as the donor. He said he just didn't want to think about it ever again.

Lots of people knew the story, naturally, since there are no secrets in a town the size of Warner Pier. But most folks were polite enough not to mention the situation to either of us.

The city made the property into a convention and workshop center. A small auditorium was added to make it useful for meetings, and it now attracted many small conferences each year.

It had a good restaurant as well, but Joe didn't like to eat there. The property was an unhappy memory to him.

But that afternoon Warner Point had a festive air, although its main decorations were black-and-white posters of movie stars of the thirties and forties garbed as private eyes and gangsters.

The memorabilia dealers were set up in a room off the lobby of the theater. The films, of course, were being shown in the theater itself.

As I limped across the parking lot, someone called out, “Lee! Mrs. Woodyard!”

Looking around, I saw Noel Kayro falling in beside me. I gulped. I was facing one of the suspected bad guys. Could I do as Hogan had instructed us? Could I act as if I didn't suspect
him of plotting a crime against Jeff? I tried to smile, but my face felt stiff.

“Oh, Mr. Kayro. How are you doing?”

“Just fine.” His voice was Peter Lorre's whisper, and his eyes were the size of tennis balls. “Is your weather always this lovely in west Michigan?”

“Now and then we have a blizzard. But have you seen Jeff?”

“Jeff?” Kayro stopped abruptly. “Has he shown up?”

“Yes. He's been discharged from the hospital, and he's here.” I smiled. “Or mostly here. He had a concussion, and he has big gaps in his memory.”

Kayro's eyes widened, and when eyes that are already the size of tennis balls get even wider, the effect is striking.

“Jeff should be in the dealers' area.” I gestured toward the door to the auditorium. “It's the room to the left of the foyer.”

Kayro's eyes stayed enormous, and he came to a complete halt. “The dealers' room?”

His reaction was fascinating. “That was where he said he'd be. Let's find him.” I stepped forward and motioned for Kayro to follow me.

He didn't. He looked at his watch. “Unfortunately,” he said, “I can't do that right now. I have to run an errand. But I'll be right back.”

He turned back toward the parking lot and walked away rapidly. He called to me over his shoulder, “Right back! Right back! It will only take a few minutes.”

My eyes probably got larger than his as I watched him go. I'd run into Noel Kayro several times over the past few days, and each time we met he had emphasized how eager he was to
see Jeff. Now, when I told him Jeff was in close proximity, he turned and ran in the other direction.

What was going on?

Kayro's reaction had made me almost worried about what was going on with Jeff and Tess in the dealers' room. But when I went into that room, all seemed to be well. Jeff was talking to a fan dressed in a trench coat, Tess was selling a blond moll a paperback book with a blond moll on the cover, and Bodyguard Bob was standing against the wall, looking the crowd over.

If there was anything wrong, it was that Jeff looked a bit tired.

I looked his stock over until he and Tess were both through with the fans, then asked how things were going.

Tess answered, and she spoke firmly. “Jeff's tired.”

Jeff denied it, but I thought she was right.

“I can stay for a while,” I said. “You could take a rest, Jeff.”

“No, no. I'm fine.”

I looked around the room and saw a sign saying N
OW
P
LAYING
. Under it was a big movie poster. “Oh, Jeff! It's
The Big Sleep
! That used to be one of your favorite movies.”

“Yeah. Bogart, Bacall, and Philip Marlowe. Hard to beat.”

“Well, here's a plan. You and Bob go see it. Tess and I will mind the booth.”

It didn't take too much to convince Jeff. I thought that proved he was quite tired. After all, he'd spent the past few days in bed. Just walking around probably took some energy.

It looked as if Tess and I wouldn't have much to do. As the showing of the classic movie started, much of the crowd left the area. Two not very comfortable folding chairs were behind the small table, and Tess and I sat down.

“Whew!” she said. “I'm surprised at how much business Jeff and I have done. I haven't even had time to visit the ladies' room!”

“Well, go!” I said. “Jeff seems to have marked all his prices plainly. I think I can handle it for a few minutes.”

“I'll be right back.” She got to her feet and went toward the lobby, where the restrooms were located.

A fan wearing an old-fashioned police uniform came up, and I turned my attention to the box of vintage paperbacks. Together we found three he wanted, and I took his money. Fifteen bucks toward Jeff's booth rental. I glanced at my watch. It had taken me ten minutes to dig through the paperbacks and convince the costumed film fan that he wanted them. But there was no sign of Tess. I would have expected her to get back from the ladies' room more quickly than that. After all, the restrooms were not far away.