Alex Ames - Calendar Moonstone 02 - Brilliant Actors (33 page)

No reason to beat around the bush. “Listen, when I finished my apprenticeship with you, you expected me to take over your business in New York, didn’t you?”

Mortimer sighed. “Yes, you know that I would have loved to put it into your very capable hands. Your creativeness and the customer base would have made a great combination, but of course you had to do what you had to do. The young women of today have their own heads. Plus, your parents are way out west, and you are doing very well on your own.”

“Are you mad at me?” I asked him carefully to keep the trap open.

Mortimer laughed six thousand miles away. “No, my child, I am not mad at you. Not at all. It was just a business in the end, and I had a fulfilled life with it. And now I have a fulfilled life on the Mediterranean, looking at tourists and beautiful French women over a strong coffee.”

“Glad that you see it that way, Uncle Mortimer.”

“Is that all I can do to keep your uneasy conscience at rest, Calendar?” Mortimer asked.
 

“Yeah, that’s it,” I cooed. “Maybe I will come over one day and see how you are doing. Would that be okay?”

“Sure, you are invited, anytime you like. I would love your company.”

Time to snap the trap. I said, “Listen, one thing I was always puzzled about: when I finished my apprenticeship and moved back West, you didn’t close down your business immediately. I mean, we didn’t have much contact back then, but I was under the impression that you conducted business for a few more years.”

Uncle Mortimer was silent for a second and then said carefully, “Yes, that is true. I kept the business running for three more years.”
 

“Three years, a full apprentice cycle?”

“Calendar, is there anything you want to ask me directly?”

“I know that we had an agreement never to talk about the apprentices that were there before me, but if we consider this the fine print: what about any apprentices that came
after
me?” Now it was out.

Longer silence. “What do you say?”

“The case you read about in the papers? The suspect that was finally arrested was a young man called Rip Delaware. It is probably not his real name, but that doesn’t matter. Fact is, I saw…,” I had to choose the right words here; you never knew who was listening in, “…parts of his working style, and I noticed striking similarities to my work and your work. And after careful consideration, I came to the conclusion that Rip Delaware, or whatever his name is, was an apprentice of yours, just like I had been a few years earlier. And he is about four years younger than me, so his age fits, too.”

Mortimer suddenly chuckled. “Dear, dear Calendar, do I hear jealousy in your voice?”

“Am I right, Uncle Mortimer?” I asked him.

“Calendar, just to put your mind at rest: you have always been my best and most creative pupil, always. Your work will probably last the longest of all the pupils I have had over my long career. But that young man you are talking about, yes, he was an apprentice, too. Coming right after you, as you assumed correctly. And that young man, Robert Dee, as I know him—though I doubt that this was his real name either—he was the most driven one. Where you were happy with a fulfilled task, he wasn’t satisfied. It had to be better, more perfect, more daring, and more dangerous than before.”

I sat in my home, stunned from what I heard from Uncle Mortimer.

“And I find it extraordinary that your paths are crossing now and that you managed to put him away twice.”

“I only put him away once after his break-out attempt and the stupid car chase,” I corrected Mortimer.
 

He chuckled again. “Come on; allow me the bold assumption that the first time also had your touch. That boy was reckless, and you turned that fact against him. He probably deserves this.”

“Hope you don’t mind me catching him. I mean, it was either him or me to go down. Sounds corny like an old Western movie. For me, only the first outcome was acceptable,” I apologized.

“Oh, no excuses, Calendar, but don’t you think that the end game of your little play is over, yet. Robert, or Rip, has good resources and incredible patience. And he is usually prepared for any unforeseen eventualities, so don’t count him out, yet.”

“That’s what I feared.”
 

We chatted a few minutes more about this, that, my parents, and my sister and then said goodbye.
 

I hung up and made a fist in the air. “Rip Delaware, Robert Dee! One of the chosen!”
 

When I did my apprenticeship in jewelry crafts and cat burglary with Uncle Mortimer, we never talked about all the cat burglars before me. It had been an unspoken arrangement. I had been his first female apprentice, and I had to overcome his inhibitions. I had probably only gotten the job because I was one of the family and he had liked my mother. I had always wondered what had happened to the other artists and burglars. Had they ever been caught at the game? Were they still sitting in jail? Or had they opened small jewelry stores and never used their special skills again? For me, the power it had held in the beginning had never worn off over the years, and maybe I had even become addicted to it. The power to move into other people’s lives and steal precious, unique things had been irresistible, and it was hard to imagine that my fellow apprentices had not felt that way toward their newly perfected skills. But then, I had been in a very special situation at the end of my apprenticeship, a very skilled girl at crafting—and pregnant, only to lose my unborn baby and my lover at the same time before moving back to the West, hiding, and building a new life. Maybe that’s why it had become more than a game to me. And maybe Rip had similar motives.
 

And then: how many cat burglars could coexist in the tight market called the USA? Mortimer had kept his business over a span of almost forty years. Maybe he had churned out five or six apprentices over the years, but how many could have been active without crossing paths?
 

And Rip and I had quickly crossed swords, in a matter of four years after he had finished his apprenticeship.
 

The ringing phone brought me back from my thoughts into the present world. I had established my hunch as correct; Rip had taken over his style from the same master that had taught me the tricks of our trade.

I picked up the phone. It was Henry, calling to tell me that Rip had escaped. Again!
 

He wanted to send over an escort to guard me, as it was expected that Rip would get into contact with me. Henry was embarrassed to no end; fortunately, it hadn’t happened on his watch. And he was worrying about me—that was a nice thing, too. I assured him that I didn’t think that Rip was the grudge-holding type.
 

After we hung up, I stared at the phone.
 

And had to laugh aloud. Couldn’t stop laughing. This had turned out better than planned.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Won’t be fooled again!

After life had returned to normal, I picked up my routine—doing morning runs and gymnastics on the beach, spending the day in the workshop, lunching with Mrs. Otis or Mundy, crafting the new collection, and honing whatever skills in the evening.
 

About two weeks after Rip’s getaway, I was jogging on the beach toward Redondo pier and passed a group of surfers who were tending their boards and waiting for surf up. One blonde surfer dude got up when I came closer and started jogging alongside me.
 

“This supposed to be a come-on?” I puffed and continued running.

“Hey, babe, want to take a ride on my surfboard?”
 

“That pickup line must work with your teenage target group, but not with me. Beat it, sweetie,” I said.

“I knew it,” the Dude mumbled. “She was only in it for my beautiful black curls.”

I stopped and stared at him. “Rip! Robert! Whatever!”

“Hi, Calendar, doing all right?” Rip sported bleached blonde short hair with blackened tips here and there. His chin was underlined by a fashionable goatee, and his eyes were hidden under Ray Bans. Not even his mother would have recognized him.

“Should I be afraid? Should I scream for help?” I moved my right arm in a wide arc to indicate that there were people around and inconspicuously moved my left hand to my pepper spray hidden under my running shirt.

“Fear nothing, Cal. I just wanted to congratulate you for your sky high victory. Nice going with the mailbox office. My client was surely pissed off when I couldn’t deliver the Acura.”

“Of course, I have no clue what you are talking about, Rip.” You never knew who was wearing a wire these days.
 

“Come on; you did it. I heard it from my East Coast connection. You ever dealt with ‘The Fence’ organization?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing illegal for me.” I looked at the ground modestly and drew a line in the sand. “I have to say, the whole affair was unexpected and a shit hard piece of work and nerves, but I managed. Some victories are sweeter than others, but let me congratulate you for the clean getaway.”

“Piece of cake, the police department where they kept me before going to court was overpopulated with a group of raving techno-hippies after an ecstasy drug bust. No one cared about a well-groomed, well-dressed young man after twenty minutes of chant and trance time. I only had to walk out.” Rip smiled.

“You still planning to hit the LA area, or are you done here?”

“I am out of here for a while. Haven’t decided yet what to do next. I will miss the nice ladies in LA, though.” He smiled sheepishly, and I had to smile back. He looked over the waves as if to conjure surf. “All in all, apart from the Swan Collins disaster, it had been a good run in LA’s movie scene.”

“You can keep the proceedings from my safe as a tip,” I said. “I am good with the insurance money, and my new collection is coming along great.”
 

 
“Hey, Calendar, here is to crossing swords again sometimes. Give my regard to the old man if you should talk to him.” Rip gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, saluted me, and jogged back to the surfer posse. No need to call the police; Rip was much more valuable free and roaming than locked away and clearing up the Hollywood break-ins completely. Security by obscurity.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Cat, Dog and Mouse

“Swan, are you there? Swan?” Nicole Berg called through the large living room where I had spent part of that Oscar after-show party. That party! Seemed like ages ago, now.
 

“Oh, hi there, Nicole. What brings you here?” I stood up from the large, sprawling sofa where I had idled and browsed through an Italian high gloss fashion magazine that sold for twenty-eight dollars.
 

“I don’t know, frankly? Swan called me yesterday and invited me for a casual lunch. Told me some other girls would be there, too, but I didn’t expect you here.” Nicole looked a little bit confused. “Swan’s not here?”

“She just stepped out for a moment. Her agent called with something urgent, contract stuff, it seems. She just drove down the road for a quick fix and will be back in a minute,” I explained.
 

Nicole stepped up and sat down close to me. “Strange, an invitation from Swan for lunch. I mean, we are not exactly BFFs.”

“Even I had noticed,” I admitted. “Drink?”

“No, if there’s lunch soon, I can wait. Had a workout this morning and drowned myself with European spring water afterward.” She looked around. “Are we alone, or is someone else invited?”

I shrugged. “I forgot to ask. The patio is set for four, so maybe someone else will be coming in.”

Nicole looked at me curiously. “You look very calm, my dear. I heard in the news that your party boyfriend and cat burglar Rip Delaware escaped a few days ago while he was being transferred to the court house.”

I sniffed. “Yeah, pretty annoying business. I had to catch him—”

“And what a catch that was, honey,” Nicole interrupted.

“They let him escape again, but I am not worried. They cleared me of the Swan Collins diamond theft completely, and Rip doesn’t gain anything by hounding me,” I said easily.