Secure Location - By Beverly Long Page 0,25
information, what time are you leaving the office?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t being too obvious.
“By four. I need time to get dressed for the dinner. I’ll have to take a cab to the event since my car is still out of commission.”
She wouldn’t be in the cab alone. But he didn’t want to have that argument now. “Okay. I’ll see you later,” he said.
He programmed the address of Smitty’s Gemstones into his GPS. Blakely had worked security for Smitty’s before joining BJM. The store was in downtown San Antonio, nestled between other small retailers. When he opened the door, the lighting was dim, the carpet had seen better days and the man standing inside, arms folded across his chest, didn’t look friendly.
Cruz ignored the guy and walked toward the older woman standing behind the counter. Here the lighting was a little better but dim enough that a customer might have difficulty picking up any flaws in the massive amount of jewelry and loose gemstones stuffed in the glass display cases.
“Can I help you?” she asked. Her tone was businesslike, indicating she liked buyers, not lookers. She was on the downside of fifty and had rings on every finger.
“I hope so,” Cruz said, flashing her a smile. “I’m looking for somebody who used to work for you. Troy Blakely.”
The woman frowned. “A friend of yours?”
Cruz went with his instinct and shook his head. “I’ve never met him. But I want to talk to him about some trouble a friend of mine is having.”
“Is he behind this trouble?”
“I don’t know,” Cruz said. This woman looked like she could smell a line a mile away.
“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was. I think the guy has a screw loose. But I can’t help you. I haven’t seen him since he quit a year ago.”
“What did he do to make you think he had a screw loose?”
The woman shook her head. “I caught him going through my files, writing down home addresses of people who’d left jewelry here to be appraised. When one of those houses got broken into, I figured he needed to go.”
“Did you tell the police?”
The woman shook her head. “First of all, I didn’t have any proof. Second of all, it would have been bad publicity for the store.”
Cruz wasn’t surprised and truth be told, not overly critical. He understood why people didn’t want to become involved. Maybe the woman had been afraid of Blakely and worried that he’d turn on her if he suspected that she’d reported him to the police. Certainly odder things happened. Every day. “And you haven’t seen him since then?”
“Nope.”
It was another dead end. He was getting tired of them. “Thank you for your time,” he said.
“No problem.” The woman floated her hand in the air, gesturing toward the display cases. “Nobody at home you’d like to buy a small gift for?”
Over the years, he’d bought Meg an engagement ring and maybe a few pairs of earrings for Christmas or her birthday. He could certainly have done better. He glanced around, and walked over to a case where the lighting was better, the presentation nicer. A necklace caught his eye. It was a large blue stone, surrounded by small diamonds.
“That’s my good stuff, honey. I hope she’s worth it.”
Twenty minutes later he was back at the hotel. It was ten minutes before four. He parked, practically jogged to Meg’s office, and didn’t really relax until he saw that the security guard was still sitting outside. “Hi, Tim,” he said. “How’d it go today?”
The young man shrugged. “Fine.”
“Nothing unusual?”
“No, sir.”
“Okay, I’ll take it from here,” Cruz said.
“Sounds good to me. I always like getting out a little early on Friday nights.”
Cruz opened the office door. Charlotte was standing at the copy machine, her back to the door. She glanced over her shoulder. “Mr. Montoya?” she said, her tone even more severe than when Meg had introduced them this morning. “I didn’t realize that Meg expected you back.”
“I got done a little early and thought I’d check in. Everything okay here?”
“Yes,” she said, as if terribly insulted that he thought that she was lax enough to allow anything bad to happen on her watch. She waved her hand toward Meg’s office. “She is just finishing up a meeting with Mr. Slater.”
Cruz glared at the closed office door. Yeah, meeting. Right. “Mind if I have a seat?” he asked, nodding his head toward one of the leather chairs in the small waiting area.
“Of course not,” she