Minerva Clark Goes to the Dogs (15 page)

“Tell me what you did with the diamond.”

“Wow, aren't you a smarty-pants.”

“Look, we don't have time for this. I can get us out of here, but I need to know some things first.”

“How can you get us out of here?”

“I'm not telling, until you tell me some things.”

“Oh, God! Between you and Frank, making everything my fault all the time. It's not my fault. This is not my fault.”

“I never said it was, and I don't think it is. That Frank guy is obviously a wacko.”

“He's my boyfriend,” she sniffed. “We were supposed to get married this fall, on the autumnal equinox.”

“Is that what the diamond was for?”

“God, no. How stupid do you think I am?” Sylvia
started to cry. She wept into her hands. I spied a thread of grit beneath each short nail. She told me the whole story. She met Frank at the shelter when she and Tonio came to adopt Chichi, the black pug. Frank had been so kind and helpful. Sylvia and Tonio were orphans, basically. Their father died in a car accident and as soon as Sylvia turned twenty-one their mother moved back to Puerto Vallarta to take care of her mother, Sylvia and Tonio's grandmother, who had diabetes. Sylvia sent most of the money she made cleaning hotel rooms home to Puerto Vallarta. Frank was a good man, she'd thought. He was so friendly and he loved animals. He also worked for a rich family, the de Guzmans, walking their show dogs.

“Frank got tired of seeing how much people spent on their pets. It was disgusting. Then, he overheard that de Guzman guy talking to his business partner about getting a red diamond for a movie director, the same movie director, Rodney Somebody, who had hired Tonio to play a part in his movie. Imagine, using a real diamond as a prop for a movie. How wasteful, how
sinful
is that? Frank and me, we were disgusted. Frank keeps his ears open. De Guzman talks openly in front of him like he is a piece of the furniture. But Frank is listening, all the time he is listening. It's not just any diamond de Guzman is bringing, it's a red diamond and it's worth a lot of money. Even split three
ways, it is a lot of money. I could get my abuela better medical care, pay off my bills, set some aside for Tonio.” She folded her arms.

“So Frank found out how Mr. de Guzman was bringing the diamond into the country, and sent you to the airport to buy the ring from Chelsea?”

“Frank had ideas about waiting until she was alone and mugging her, but I thought this was a cleaner way. Frank thinks he's like this bad guy—security guard by day, genius jewel thief by night! I knew buying the ring from the girl would work. I love jewelry myself. I remember being a young girl, and how flattered I felt when an older girl liked a necklace or bracelet I was wearing. That rich girl was no different. She would have given me that silly ring if I'd have kept up with the compliments.”

I chewed my thumb cuticle, bounced my legs, tried to process this as fast as I could. I had to get to the bottom of everything, and it had to be soon. I had no idea how much time had passed.

“You said the money was going to be split three ways. You and Frank are only two.”

“I don't know why I'm telling you all this. For all I know, Frank stuck you in here on purpose to find out where the diamond is. You got yourself untied pretty quick like. How do I know it's not a setup? That's something he would do. He thinks he's such an operator.”

I told her about going to the airport and digging
through the garbage at Coffee People to find the receipt that had her drink order and name on it. “You ordered a Double Tall Caramel Soy Extra Foamy Latte.”

“I could say that Frankie fed you that information, but he never gets it right. I been drinking plain double tall caramel lattes all week. He never listens to a thing I say. He's one of those guys who's all into you until he's got you, then he doesn't even pretend to be listening.”

She ragged on Frank a bit more, how he treated her like she was the hired help, how he was jealous of every guy she said hello to while flirting madly with any woman who would look his way, how he lectured her, and now this, this, tying her up in a shed when she wouldn't bend to his will. “My question to myself always is, why am I with this guy? Why do I love a man who is so horrible?”

I could have told her that it was just the mystery of love and attraction, but I was determined not to get off topic.

“So who's got the diamond—you?” I held my breath. It couldn't possibly be this easy. She couldn't possibly have the diamond on her.

“Maybe.”

“Where is it?”

She laughed and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“Who's the third person?”

“You show me how you're going to get us out of
here.” She motioned toward the door with her pointy chin. Sylvia had one of those heart-shaped faces they always call perfect in the beauty magazines, but it was marred by her surly expression.

I laughed. I said sure. I was convinced this mystery was almost solved. As long as I could keep Jupiter out of my mind I was fine.

“Frank threw my phone in the bushes, but he didn't count on me having this.” From out of my pocket I pulled my Bluetooth and hooked it around my ear. With one press of the small button at its center, it would dial out from my cell phone. As long as my phone was closer than thirty feet away, we were golden.

“You going to call the cops?” she demanded.

“I can call anyone I want,” I said.

“Show me,” she said.

“Who's the third person?” I pressed.

“Some guy named McCarthy,” she said. “A friend of Frank's. They've been moving diamond stud earrings for a while now, just small stuff, nothing like this. McCarthy was the original owner of those homing pigeons out there. Frank feeds the diamonds to Oreo, and he flies to McCarthy, then Oreo regurgitates them back up, and McCarthy sells them.”

“Oreo?”

“One of the pigeons. He's better trained than the others or regurgitates on demand, or something.”

“They feed the diamonds to pigeons?”

Sylvia sighed, as if I was slow, as if using stupid pigeons to transport precious gems was as common as using UPS. “They always have small stones in their craws, you know, to grind up their food. If you feed them small gems, the birds treat them as regular stones and put them in their craws. It's the perfect hiding place. Then, when the birds get to where they're going, they're made to regurgitate the gems.”

“How?”

“I don't know. That's McCarthy's job.”

“Where does McCarthy live?”

“Washington or Idaho? Far away from here. I want to say that's why the system is foolproof, but Frank is a fool, he's beyond a fool. He's a loser is what he is.”

“When is Frank sending Oreo out?”

“Friday, the last I heard. What day is it, Tuesday?”

I nodded, trying to add things up as quickly as I could. Frank overheard Mr. de Guzman telling his business partner about bringing the diamond into the country in Chelsea's ring. He'd wanted to mug Chelsea, but Sylvia convinced him that it would be simpler and cleaner to see if she might simply buy the ring from Chelsea as soon as she got off the plane. She knew what Chelsea looked like from Frank's description, and followed her when she got off the plane and into the crowded ladies' room, where she heard Chelsea ask her
mom about stopping at Coffee People for a cappuccino, just as Chelsea and I had guessed. Now, in three days' time, Frank was going to feed the red diamond to a pigeon named Oreo, who was going to fly with it to another state where another guy, McCarthy, would take the gem from the bird's craw and sell it. Then they would all split the money.

I'd started to sweat. I thought about taking my hoodie off, but if we heard Frank return, I'd want to jump back on my chair and pretend my hands were still tied. Putting my sweatshirt back on would take too much time.

“So, you going to call the cops now and get us the hell out of here?”

“In a minute,” I said. There were a few huge holes in the story. Like where was the diamond now, and why had Frank locked Sylvia in the shed?

Sylvia stood up. She was one of those people who seemed taller than she was. “How old are you anyway?” she asked.

“You said Frank stuck you in here because you wouldn't bend to his will.”

Every time I mentioned Frank's name Sylvia exploded. I never really knew what it meant when people talked about pressing someone else's button, but I saw how the subject of Frank was Sylvia's button.

“We were going to split three ways, right? Frank, McCarthy, and me. Then the day I get the ring I come
here and find Frank in the break room, talking on his cell with McCarthy about how maybe they can cut me out once they get the diamond. I hear Frank say he'll give me a little something for my effort, maybe a grand or two, that that's a lot of money for someone like me.

“I say to him, ‘What's to prevent me from just selling the diamond myself?' Frank turns around. He sees me standing there and goes nuts. He can't stand that I've heard his nasty little scheme, and that I still have the diamond and didn't bring it with me. So he throws me in here. He starts telling me that all this is my fault.” She stopped and inhaled, collected her thick hair into a ponytail and tied it in a knot at the back of her neck.

“You can do that, too,” I said. “Tie your hair in a knot.”

“It's hot in here,” she said. Her rant about Frank left her exhausted. She wiped the sweat from the bridge of her nose with her sleeve.

I felt sorry for Sylvia, but at the same time didn't trust her. I didn't know how to say what I needed to say in a way that would convince her of my plan. This was a weak point for me, saying things in a convincing way. The only thing I knew how to do was throw the topic out there and start arguing when the other person disagreed. “Sylvia,” I said, “if you want to get back at Frank for what he's done to you, you're going to have to give the diamond to him.”

She snorted. “There's a fantastic idea.”

“Think about it. If I call the police now, they'll come and rescue us, they'll charge Frank with kidnapping, but you won't be able to tell them about Frank and McCarthy without implicating yourself. You're the one who's got the diamond, after all. Frank will say he knows nothing about it. He'll go to jail for kidnapping, but you'll go to jail for having stolen goods.”

I wasn't too sure about this—someone could argue that she bought the ring from Chelsea fair and square—but at least I had Sylvia's attention now.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“My dad's a lawyer. And anyway, don't you want to stick it to Frank but good?”

I told her my plan. It felt like skateboarding down a new street I'd never before laid eyes on. I made it up as I went along. The plan had two parts. First, I told her, I would phone Chelsea, who would go to Sylvia's apartment, collect the diamond, and bring it to us. Sylvia would hide it somewhere, as if she'd always had it on her …

“Wait a minute,” Sylvia interrupted, “you're calling that rich daughter of de Guzman? No way. She'll probably just take the diamond back to her daddy and then when Frank finds out, he'll beat me but good. We call my brother. He knows where the diamond is hidden and how to get here.”

“Isn't he on the movie set?”

“If I called him, he would come.”

She was probably right. If Sylvia was all he had in the world, he'd be more likely to do what she asked ASAP, even if that meant walking off the set. If I called Chelsea, and she was getting a manicure or riding her horse or whatever, we'd have to wait. And we couldn't afford to wait. I had to take the chance.

I reached beneath my hair, felt for the button on my earpiece. Sure enough, my cell phone was close enough to pick up the signal. I voice dialed the number Sylvia gave me and handed the earpiece to her.

She fumbled as she hooked it around her ear, but caught on to how it worked quick enough.

“Tonio? It's me!” She started to cry again, waterworks city. In all my life I've never cried as hard as Sylvia did that moment. We needed to get out of here, and fast.

She spoke to him for a few minutes in Spanish.

Then she hung up and handed me the earpiece. I wondered why she looked so smug. “He's coming immediately. Now it's your turn.”

A bad feeling swept over me. Something had shifted. Now Sylvia seemed like the adult that she was and I was the stupid kid. I was in eighth grade. I still had a bed time. I had been in control, and now Sylvia was in control. On the Scale of Scared, I'd inched up to an eight. What I was about to do next was not going to turn out
well—the second part of my doomed plan—calling the police.

The not-very-well-thought-out idea was that they would arrive just after Tonio had showed up at the shelter and turned over the diamond to Frank. Then Frank would be in possession of the diamond, and Sylvia and I would still be locked in the shed, kidnapped, held hostage against our will, our lives endangered, and a bunch of other charges that would put Frank in jail for a long time.

I called 911.

My heart lifted a little when I didn't recognize the voice of the operator who answered. It was not the lady with the deep musical blues singer voice, but some woman, probably Sylvia's age, who sounded as if she was from Texas or somewhere.

“I'm being held captive at the animal shelter,” I said.

“What is the address,” said the operator.

“The address? I don't know. Isn't there only one animal shelter in Portland?” Panic danced in my stomach. “Look, a guy who volunteers here locked me in a shed with another girl. My name is Minerva Clark and—”

“—one moment please,” said the operator, cutting me off in mid-sentence.

Then I knew I was doomed. Another person came on the line, my old familiar operator with the old-timey blues singer voice. “Minerva Clark, you've got to stop this. Now
I'm serious, honey. I think you should get yourself some psychological help.”