“Dr. Poolittle indeed,” Odelia grumbled, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. Judging from the whiteness of her knuckles Dr. Poolittle would find no support from his daughter in his new endeavors, even though I had no doubt she would watch his future career with interest.
“So when are you going to talk to Wilbur?” asked Dooley. “And offer him some relationship advice?”
“Frankly I don’t give a hoot about Wilbur or his relationship,” Odelia muttered as she resolutely steered the car right past the General Store, where presumably Wilbur was still bombarding his latest conquest with hundreds of messages, and set a course for the police station instead.
Life is about priorities, after all. When you have a story to write about a precious diamond, and your dear old dad has decided to burn his career to the ground, the love life of Wilbur Vickery has to take a backseat. Collateral damage, I think some people would call it.
We’d arrived at the police station, and Odelia parked her car, then got out, allowing us to hop down to the ground to follow her inside.
We passed Dolores, the precinct’s crusty dispatcher, who waved to us in greeting while barking into her phone, “No, ma’am, this is the police, NOT the DMV!”
And then we found ourselves in Uncle Alec’s office. The big man was behind his desk, looking a little frazzled. His hair was standing in all directions—or at least what little hair he had left on his wide cranium, and when we entered he was on the phone, gesturing for his niece to take a seat. “No, Charlene, I don’t know when the Sheikh will arrive. Oh, he’s already here? Well, he sure as heck didn’t tell me. An official reception at Town Hall? Do you really think that’s necessary? Keys to the city? Are you sure… Yes, Charlene. If you think it’s a good idea.” And after adding, “Yeah, love you, too,” he hung up. Somehow that last sentence hadn’t sounded as loving as it could have.
“Did I hear you correctly?” asked Odelia. “Is Sheikh Bab El Ghat in town?”
The Chief nodded, then dragged ten weary digits through the devastated area that was his scalp.“The town council wants to organize a reception for the Sheikh, the whole nine yards—champagne, canap?s, invite the whole town, the works. As if I don’t have enough on my plate already.”
Odelia gave her uncle a strange look.“I just had the Sheikh’s insurance guy at the house and his expert, and they didn’t mention anything about the Sheikh being in Hampton Cove.”
“Maybe they didn’t know. Guys like that don’t exactly like to make their travel plans known to the whole world. No, yeah, the guy arrived late last night. Wants to meet the Wynns and thank them personally for finding the stone. He’s staying at the Star—apparently renting a suite on the top floor for him and however many of his wives he decided to bring along on this trip.” He tugged at his nose. “I just hope no nutters get it into their nut to camp out in front of the hotel hoping to catch a glimpse of the Sheikh or, worse, decide to try and shoot the guy.”
“Shoot the guy? Why would anyone want to shoot the guy?”
“Because that’s what people do!” said the Chief, throwing up his hands. “They like to shoot at stuff, just because they can. Now why are you here? Did we have a meeting? I can’t remember.”
“I’m here to talk about the investigation into the disappearance and recovery of the Pink Lady. I want to find out how that diamond got into that safe deposit box at the Capital First Bank.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. So I talked to the bank—”
“And they told you that that safe belonged to Craig Bantam.”
The Chief stared at his niece.“How…”
She smiled.“Oscar Godish told me.”
“Who’s…”
“The Sheikh’s insurance guy. Works for a company called Milestone Partners.”
“Okay. So your Mr. Godish is correct. The safe deposit box was registered to a Craig Bantam. Now, Mr. Bantam died a couple of years ago, but he had a daughter, and that daughter has kept on paying for that safe, which is why your best bet would be to talk to the daughter. I’d do it myself, but nobody has asked me to investigate, and frankly I don’t have the time or the manpower to launch a full-scale investigation into that darned rock. Honestly I’ll be glad to be rid of the thing.”
“No worries, Uncle. I’ve got plenty of time, and the best thing is that nobody has to tell me to investigate this strange business. Iwant to investigate it—in fact I can’t think of anything else!”
“Good for you,” grumbled her uncle. “And if this Bantam woman gives you any grief, just flash them this badge.” And he pushed a small badge across his desk in Odelia’s direction.
Odelia stared at it for a moment.“What’s this?”
“I just thought I’d make it official that you’re a police consultant—not a cop, mind you, but still working for me.”
“Why, thanks,” she said, and looked extremely touched by this sign of trust.
“Oh, and also there’s this,” said Uncle Alec, and slipped an envelope across the stable, following the same trajectory as the badge.
Odelia frowned as she checked the contents of the envelope.“What…”