Part 3 of 4

Three weeks later

It's the talk of the town! It's buzzing up and down the streets, in and out of establishments, up and over the back garden fences. Money! A great deal of money – falling right down out of the clear blue sky – and no one knows where it came from. But everyone knows who got it.

The Owens. And that poor deluded mad girl Abigail Lightfoot.

"Lightfoot", is snorted in more than one hair salon, "more like light-headed, if you ask me! Imagine her keeping his name after everything he put her through. And the brass of the woman, sponging off the couple her husband ruined with his stupid ways? Oh, I always knew those brothers were a bad lot!"

The whole town held its collective breath waiting to see if any more largess dropped out of nowhere – but it didn't, so after a week things calmed down a bit.

In town.

Up on the hill, Camille Bordey frets and paces, sits down then stands up again. She's been having bad thoughts… and not the usual bad thoughts. No, these were the opposite of those good bad thoughts, these thoughts are about this mysterious money and it hurt. She's made lists, crossed them off, made more lists, read over the applicable case notes on the sly, and she's no closer to an explanation than before.

Finally, she has to admit the truth. She can't crack this puzzle without DI Poole's help… and he's the source of her problem… so you can see the problem she has. Every day she nerves herself up to approach him and every day she chickens out. Maybe if she reads the case notes again? But no, her doubts won't go away and now she can't sleep, so today is the day!

He comes in, looking calm and collected, maybe just a tad satisfied, and so she wades in.

As he unpacks his briefcase, she sidles up to his desk and lowers herself gingerly into the facing chair, "Um, you've heard about this money the Owens got anonymously? The $25,000?" He looks up and nods. "And Abigail Lightfoot, her 25 grand as well?" He nods again and tucks the briefcase away. "Well, there's all kinds of speculation swirling in town over it. Do you know anything about it?"

He sits and boots up his computer, "I know those people deserved a break and Fate provided. Didn't you say so only a few weeks ago that you wished there was some way to help? Well, someone found a way and now they're saved from the brink of ruination."

"Yes, but…"

"Anything to report in the way of our actual jobs?" he asks rather testily.

She gives him a narrow look. Was that a deflection? Is he trying to change the subject? Her instincts kick in and she stays on course. "Not that it has anything to do with anything but Dwayne's report says there were 12 or 13 big 'stones' in Mark Lightfoot's aquarium when it was brought into the station. Fidel's evidence report says there were 12 stones in total, including the one in Benjamin's throat."

She notices how still Poole is suddenly. Even his eyes look like deep dark forest pools. Normally such a thought would amuse and beguile her… but not today… not now. She's venturing out onto very thin ice and she isn't sure how he'll react. If he reacts badly, this could kiss any romance goodbye… but she has to know… and then she has to make him understand that it didn't matter. And why.

Very carefully she whispers, "Both Dwayne and Fidel remember you reaching into the aquarium to hold up a stone – which you subsequently dropped back in – but did you? Or did you palm it and drop in a worthless bit of gravel from the parking lot?" Her question floats between them like harsh smoke before smothering in the silence radiating out of him.

She draws in a ragged breath and says, "Did you sell that diamond and give the money to the Owens and Mrs. Lightfoot?"

They sit across his desk from each other and you could hear a pin drop. He's a graven image, not even his eyes are moving. Is he even breathing? As she waits, she hopes like mad that she hasn't ruined her career and her life all in one fell swoop.

Finally, he shifts in his chair, clasps his hands over his waist, and pierces her with a stab of green, "Have you reported these suspicions to the authorities?"

She grunts in disgust and throws up a hand, "We ARE the authorities! And, no, of course not. Abigail Lightfoot and I are as different as night and day but we have ONE thing in common." His eyebrow quirks at this and she almost falters then decides to risk it. She takes a deep breath and says it. "We would do anything for the men we care about, help them, protect them…"

The other eyebrow quirks as he murmurs, "Really? Even to the point of covering up a crime?"

She can't meet his intent gaze, drops her eyes, and nods miserably.

The silence spins out. She doesn't have to look at him, she can feel him thinking. About what, she dreads to find out. Hopefully he will tell her soon, this agony will end, and she'll discover if her dreams are ashes or not.

END – part 3