The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,20
reached over the edge of the boat and gave the piling a shove. The boat drifted away from the dock.
Sara keyed the engine. It rumbled to life, idling in the water. She waited until Ian sat down to ease away from shore, then took her own seat. “My father gave me the necklace. It’s important to me.”
True, he was sure, but not the whole truth. Sara stared forward along their course, spine rigid, mute as a statue. He rubbed his shoulder. It still prickled, more a discomfort now than actual pain. “I’ll bet. That’s why we’re rushing off to Mainland.”
She answered only by opening the throttle. The boat shot forward. Ian sighed and held on for the ride.
****
The Mainland telephone directory listed four jewelers in their vicinity. The first was closed. The next two refused to do the work in less than a week. The fourth shop didn’t look promising, either.
Ian mistrusted the appearance of the people passing back and forth along the street in front of the shop. Most of them streamed out of a sad-looking pub two doors down. He didn’t want to speculate on the nature of the other buildings mashed together cheek by jowl on either side of the jeweler. “I’m guessing this part of town isn’t in the tour books.”
The grimy shop window bore a sign that read Buy, Sell, Repair in faded red script. Its door hung open as if waiting for them. Sara headed across the street with a decisive gait. He shook his head and followed.
Inside, the shop didn’t improve upon first impressions. They rounded a short counter just inside the doorway. Clutter of every sort swarmed along the shelves and cases. A radio stuffed between stacks of old books droned out a staticky racing broadcast.
The weedy, grizzled man behind the counter glanced up when they entered, then went back to puffing on his cigarette over the newspaper. Ian saw a few gruesome knives in the cases and speculated at their previous use. He bent close to Sara’s ear and whispered, “If this is a jeweler’s, I’m the king of England.”
Sara turned her back on the shopkeeper and murmured, “Just follow my lead, okay?”
She turned around again, and Ian wondered why she didn’t move forward. She stood still a moment, just looking at the shop’s proprietor. He was about to ask why she waited, but she walked to the counter, withdrew a leather billfold from her pocket, then slapped it down.
The man snapped to attention and dropped the stub of his cigarette on the paper. It began to singe a hole in the sports page. He patted at it with frantic motions, gave up, then doused it with the half pint of beer sitting beside the cash register. “Whassis?” he blustered, sopping up the mess with a dirty handkerchief plucked from his belt.
“This should be sufficient to pay off your substantial gambling debts, plus a little more to renew your good standing at the pub, Mister MacRae.”
The man’s bloodshot eyes narrowed at her. “Why?” he shot back, which Ian took to mean Why would you want to help me?
Ian would have liked to know that and more, himself. How the hell did she know the shopkeeper had gambling debts?
“Let’s just say I know your creditors, and I’d hate to see them ruin your good looks. Do you want it, or not?” she asked.
Ian watched the man’s gaze shift from the billfold to the gap in the counter, and then to the shop door. He slid into the gap and blocked it with a casual air. When the man gave him a dirty look, Ian answered it with a philosophical tilt of his head.
MacRae turned his sneer back on Sara. “What do you want out o’ me?”
Sara set her locket on the counter, followed by another, golden one. She reached into her pocket once more, then set the last item down. Her hair swung forward so that Ian couldn’t see her eyes. She took her hand away. The stone necklace rested on the stained wood. “I want you to fix this.”
MacRae peered at the amulet as if he expected it to jump up and bite him. “What kind o’ trinket you got there?”
She showed her teeth. “A birthday present.”
The man grunted and scooped up the lockets.
“I want you to melt those down into oval beads,” she said. “One goes in one side of this necklace, and one in the other. You give me my present back in one piece, and”—she picked up the