Goldie Silver stood behind the ancient oak counter in her Silver Spoon Antique Shoppe near the end of South Franklin Street. The old building once housed a high class cat house, but now the only cat in residence was Midnight, her big black ball of fur. He rubbed against her leg to let her know how pleased he was that she had returned home. Rudy grudgingly cared for the lazy feline in her absence, but now—out of guilt for leaving him—Goldie was dishing out extra salmon jerky treats.
The very night she arrived back home, Rudy Valentino, relieved of his caretaking duties, took off early to meet his friend Taku Ted at the Red Dog Saloon. She couldn’t blame him. He was a man with a thirst. Rudy lived above the shop in the converted bawdy house. When Goldie was out of town, he had to stay sober enough to stumble down the back stairs each morning, open the shop, and greet the tourists without a hangover. It was hard on the old transplanted Texan.
Goldie polished a slightly dented brass spittoon as she thought about her handsome husband. Red’s ship had docked in Juneau the day after she returned. The tourist season was winding down and they were able to spend three glorious days with each other before his ship sailed again. After a delicious meal at the Twisted Fish, they attended the play put on by the summer theater class at Juneau-Douglas High. Unlike the mind-boggling array of entertainment available in Los Angeles, a high school play was a big deal in Juneau. That night it was Taming of the Shrew. After three almost sunny days, Captain Red Pepper returned to the bridge of the Aurora Borealis and sailed into Alaska’s late night sunset.
Around noon, Rudy took his post in the back room and tied a workman’s apron over his crisp pinstriped shirt. A polka dot bowtie was arranged neatly under his stubbly chin. “I’m gonna tackle that fancy armoire we got at Skagway Sally’s estate sale. Just needs a fix on that door and a little work on the hardware and such. Boy, howdy! Wasn’t she somethin’?”
Goldie snapped out of her reverie. “She was a piece of work, Rudy. After a lifetime of gold prospecting, dog sledding, bartending, and storytelling, isn’t it strange that she passed away so quietly in her sleep on her 102nd birthday?”
“Well, she had three pieces o’ that artery-cloggin’ birthday cake and washed it down with two shots o’ Kentucky bourbon, so I reckon she went out in a style to which she was accustomed.”
Around four o’clock, Rudy bounded out of his workroom into the main part of the shop, a broad smile lighting his skinny weathered face. “Hey, Goldilocks, come out back and take a gander at Miz Sally’s armoire. If it ain’t one of the prettiest pieces I’ve ever worked on, my name ain’t Rudy Valentino. I done such a nice job on it they should name a street after me. Well, maybe just one o’ them staircase streets like we have on Starr Hill, ya’ know? Rudy Valentino Stairway.” He slapped his knee and let out a guffaw, then grabbed her arm and pulled her into the back of the shop.
Goldie admired the patina on the piece and envisioned the price tag she could put on it. “You sure did a fine job of restoring this, Rudy. Miss Sally would be so happy. I’m thinking about pricing it at twelve hundred dollars, and it will be a real bargain at that. You are such an artist. Tell you what. If it sells for full price, I’ll give you a bonus. That should pay for some fun at the Red Dog.”
Filled with pride, Rudy hooked his thumbs in the plaid suspenders that held up his neatly pressed pants. “Thank you, Goldilocks. But ya don’t have to pay me extra for doin’ what I love.”
“Oh, yes I do. You’re the best helper anyone could have.” She glanced at her 1950s Betty Boop watch. “It’s almost five and there aren’t any ships in the harbor, let’s close a little early. I’m about to fall off my feet.”
They locked everything up and Rudy set off for his favorite drinking spot while Goldie turned in the opposite direction and trudged up Starr Hill. After climbing the ninety steps to her house, she looked forward to a nice warm bath and a quiet evening. Ever since Chili had taken the job as the assistant on Chef Caesar Romano’s popular TV show and moved into her aunt’s Beverly Hills mansion, Goldie had felt an empty spot she couldn’t quite get rid of. She looked around the cozy room and thought of her sister’s luxurious lifestyle. This was home and she wouldn’t trade any part of it. She just prayed Hollywood life wouldn’t spoil her daughter.
After a luxurious bath she wrapped herself in her favorite fuzzy pink robe, fixed a cup of chamomile rosehip tea, and settled down in the wingback chair strategically situated in the bay window overlooking Gastineau Channel. She idly opened the most recent copy of Glitterati Magazine that a cruise ship passenger had left at her shop.
Goldie flipped through the high society rag and laughed at the shenanigans of the rich and famous. All of a sudden something caught her eye and made her turn back a few pages. For a moment she couldn’t recall what she glimpsed, but then she saw it. “Zola Zapata Might Be Involved In More Than Filming,” the caption read above a full page photo of the famous actress. She was pictured in Rhodes, Greece, on the deck of a sumptuous yacht owned by billionaire industrialist Spiro Megalos. The ocean breeze was blowing her hair, her chic white jumpsuit highlighted her curvaceous body. The provocative pose was eye catching, but that wasn’t what drew Goldie’s attention. She took a closer look, just to make sure. There it was! The fabulous diamond and sapphire necklace that Godiva gave Dexter to appraise, sparkling around the actress’s neck. There was no mistake, it was one-of-a-kind. Max DuBois had commissioned it exclusively to be made for his lovely wife, Godiva.
How much more of Godiva’s jewelry did Dexter give this woman? Maybe she’s the reason he disappeared.
Goldie read further. According to the article Zola was madly in love with the Greek industrialist who was financing her new film, Peloponnesian Princess. A quick read convinced Goldie that there was no romantic connection between Dexter and this flamboyant actress. How did she come to have Godiva’s necklace?
Thoroughly confused, she picked up the phone and called Godiva.
“Hey, Sis. I have a free evening and thought I’d give you a call. Is this a good time?”
Godiva said, “Sure. I have about an hour before Caesar picks me up. We’re going to his favorite restaurant, Il Cielo. What’s up?”
After taking a deep breath Goldie answered, “Wait! You go first. What’s this about having dinner with Caesar? Did Chili’s match-making finally bear fruit?”
Sounding a little embarrassed, Godiva said, “Um, sort of—after that awful experience with Dexter, I realized I really did miss Caesar. And, you know, your daughter is just like you, once she gets hold of an idea she won’t let go. So I finally gave in and we’re giving it another try.”
“Well, I’ve always liked Caesar. You could do a lot worse, you know.”
“In fact I did do a lot worse and now I’m so happy to have that behind me. The insurance company sent me a check for my lost jewelry and never again do I want to think about the necklace Max designed for me or that snake-in-the-grass who stole it.”
Goldie’s mind was swirling. Should I tell Godiva about the necklace? She seemed so happy now. Why throw her into a tailspin?
After listening Godiva gush on about her renewed interest in Caesar, Goldie knew what she had to do. Nothing.
They chatted for another fifteen minutes and Goldie listened without saying a word about the magazine article.
Godiva cleared her throat and said, “Listen, Sis, it’s getting late and I have to look beautiful for my date so I’d better sign off.”
“Well, I’m glad I caught up with you, give my regards to Caesar and have a wonderful time tonight.”
Goldie hung up the phone, arose from her chair and picked up the magazine. She tore out the page with Zola Zapata’s picture and drew a circle around her head and neck with a red felt pen. In the margin she wrote, “Godiva Olivia DuBois’s diamond necklace.” Digging around in her tote bag she found Manuel Del Toro’s card, copied the address of the FBI headquarters in San Francisco onto a plain white envelope, and inserted the folded sheet.
***
Jade slapped the latest copy of Glitterati Magazine down on the carved lacquerware table in the glass roofed conservatory where the newly minted Harry Silver was having tea. She opened it to the Zola Zapata article. “Look at this, Dad. Why did she have to wear that necklace in such a public article? Do you suppose Godiva will see it?”
After taking a closer look, Dexter said, “No, I don’t think we have to worry. That self-centered bitch never reads things like this unless they have an article about her. I’d worry more about her snoopy sister, but I doubt that they care much about social gossip up in Alaska. No, my darling daughter, we have nothing to worry about. Would you like more tea?”