"Absurd,” Theo said.
"Skeptic,” Sadie said, wagging her finger back and forth in front of her face. “I learned this when I was in training. I haven't made anything up. It's the way it is."
"Maybe you should rewrite the book."
"There is no book."
"Then how do you know you're doing it right?"
"Quit asking questions.” Sadie stood and moved back into the driver's seat. Turning to look at Theo she said, “Tell me what's in the briefcase."
Theo ran his hand across the leather. He placed his finger on the gold numbers and rotated three dials in sequence to complete the combination. The clasps snapped open.
Sadie rose and stood on her tiptoes. She peered over his shoulder. Theo unfastened another clasp and slid his hand into a silk pocket lining the lid.
He removed his hand and held up a small, four-inch-square black bag. He grasped it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger before cupping it in his other hand.
"You've been protecting your briefcase because of a little black bag? What's in it?"
"Diamonds,” Theo closed the lid. “Diamonds worth a fortune."
Sadie dropped into the seat across from him. “My Lord,” she gasped. “Are you sure?"
"Would I protect this briefcase if I weren't sure? Of course I'm sure."
Sadie reached for the bag. “What will you do with it?"
"I'm not giving it to you, if that's what you think. This bag is going with me.” He placed the velvet bag back in the case. His tone oozed bitterness as his resentful glare settled on Sadie.
No wonder the man wore black. It matched his disposition. “You can't do that. Give it to your family. We'll make up a story and I'll make sure they get it."
"That's out of the question. I refuse to let them benefit from my hard work."
"Do they know about the diamonds?"
"They do. But they'll never get their hands on them. That's the good thing about my death. I was upset when my wife found out a client left me an inheritance. That was supposed to be my secret. My private bankroll. After I claimed the inheritance and had the diamonds valued, I hung on to them for several days trying to decide what to do.” Theo spun the combination and checked the clasps to see if they had locked.
"If you remember, I told you I couldn't divorce my wife. Because I received the inheritance while we were married, she's protected under the fifty-fifty divorce statutes. My wife gets half. There's no way to fight it. She and those self-seeking ingrates of hers would drain me financially all over again."
Theo set the case on the floor. “Then I had a change of plan. I decided to cash in the diamonds and file for divorce. They could have their half and I'd enjoy what was left after taxes. I'd be rid of those egotistical leeches and have funds left to live out the rest of my life. That decision was like a last-minute reprieve from the death penalty."
"Give it to charity. Give it to a church,” Sadie said. “At least you'd know your life was worth something."
"Like I said before, that's out of the question. I clawed my way to the top by sheer determination and I'll be damned if I'm going to share it with anyone."
"But Theo…"
"I don't want to hear it. People have taken advantage of me all my life. I'm sick of it. My wife and her children lived beyond our means and expected me to cover their debts. I was forced to do it so I wouldn't become the joke of the judicial system.” Stabbing the air with his finger Theo said, “I lived nine years of pure hell because of those bastards."
"Can't you draw up another will and back date it? I'll take it to your attorney. He won't know the difference. As long as your signature's on it, it's valid."
"Sadie. Shame on you.” Theo grinned. “I could do that, but I won't."
"You can't cash them in the parallel world."
"Do you know that for a fact?” Theo asked. “Nevertheless, my satisfaction lies in the knowledge my wife won't get her hands on the money. My will stipulates I bequeath the balance of my holdings to my wife. When she finds out there are no holdings left, my revenge will be complete. All that spending will come back and bite her in her greedy Gucci pocketbook."
A crooked smile formed on Theo's lips before he broke into a broad grin. “I think I'll compose a letter telling her I've hidden the money in one of my law books. I'm gambling she got rid of them. She hated that library. We had many a squabble over the hours I spent in there."
"That's downright mean,” Sadie said.
"It is, isn't it? Let them pine over the missing money.” Patting his briefcase he said, “These gems are going with me."
17
Carl and Paul leaned against the hood of the patrol car. Waves of heat emanated from the vehicle, adding to the discomfort of the humid summer afternoon. Carl pointed at the marker indicating the resort's boundary line and fanned his arm the entire length of the beachfront. “Then starting right there, the next hundred feet of shoreline belongs to the mortuary. When Judge Kimmer rules in my favor, I'll own that, too.” Carl rubbed his hands together. “It can't happen soon enough for me."
A green Buick slowed to a stop. The driver leaned out and asked for directions to the lodge. “Make a right at the next driveway. You can't miss it. Enjoy your stay, it's a great place,” Carl said.
Paul elbowed Carl. “Now that's good marketing. A thumbs-up from a man in uniform should bring them back next summer."
"You know that book you told me about? I bought it last week. I can sum it up in two words."
"Two?” Paul asked. “That's all you got out of it was two words?"
"Kiss butt. Customer service means kissing your customers’ butts and doing it with a smile."
"I suppose you could look at it that way. Your customer is your meal ticket. Don't ever forget that. The resort business is a service industry and your customers expect to be waited on."
"Bull,” Carl spat. “My staff is going to do the butt-kissing. I'm going to sit behind that big oak desk and give orders."
A truck towing a boat trailer edged its way to the far side of the parking lot before backing down the access ramp. The passenger got out and gestured directions to the driver. As Carl approached the truck, the driver shouted, “Are they bitin'?"
The passenger tugged on the boat to loosen it from the trailer. He guided the boat toward the dock.
Carl reached out and flagged his hand, indicating he wanted the man to throw him the rope. He pulled the boat to the dock and secured the rope.
"I saw some big fillets coming out of the cleaning shack,” Carl said. “Some of the biggest I've seen this summer."
"Hot damn. We drove all the way up from Minneapolis. Them babies better be hoppin’ in the boat."
Carl pointed to one of the two large, red tackle boxes sitting on the boat's floor. “With that gear, you won't have any problem."
"We're not coming in till we catch our limit,” the man shouted over the roar of the motor. He fastened his life jacket, pushed the lever forward and glided past a row of yellow boundary floats.
"Good luck,” Paul shouted, joining Carl at the end of the dock.
Paul pointed at the sign over the marina. “The first thing you need to do is get rid of that sign."
"Why? I like it."
"'EAT, GET GAS AND WORMS’ isn't exactly a great endorsement. I'm surprised anyone dares stop."