CHAPTER NINE

THAT EVENING WHILE MARY was at her knitting group, Abby tried to call the Durangers, the current owners of the house in which Liberty Washington and her husband had once lived. She let the phone ring a dozen times, but neither a live person nor an answering machine picked up, which wasn't surprising, of course. When the weather turned bad, the population of Sparrow Island tended to drop as people scurried back to the mainland for the winter, even though statistics showed the San Juan Islands had considerably less total precipitation per year than Seattle. Many people did return for an occasional weekend, but it was possible the Durangers wouldn't be back until spring.

By the following morning, the wind had dropped to an occasional gust, but dark clouds now hung low over the island. They obscured not only the island's highest point, Mt. Ortiz, but Arrowhead Hill as well. In some places even the treetops disappeared into the misty fog as Abby drove through Green Harbor. She turned up the heater in her car. Rain had begun by the time she parked outside the museum, but Abby never found rain depressing, as some people said they did. Everything was so wonderfully green and fresh. Hugo's car wasn't in the parking lot yet, but he passed her open office door a few minutes later.

“Hugo, when you have a free minute, would you let me know?” she called. “I need to talk to you about some details on the new exhibit.” Although she was uncertain how to do it, she hoped she could work in an assurance that he needn't feel uncomfortable around her about a romantic involvement with Dr. Randolph.

Unexpectedly Hugo turned into her office right then. “No time like the present,” he said.

Abby hastily dug out her diagrams and plans. This exhibit was to be glass enclosed and not a hands-on type of exhibit. She showed him the layout she had in mind and also mentioned that Bobby McDonald might be supplying a model of an ornithopter.

“It's probably not going to be a totally professional job, even though Bobby is extremely competent for his age,” she said. “But I think that's okay, because some of the early attempts at flying with wing movements like a bird's were definitely on the primitive side.”

“Sounds good to me. I think something about hang gliding or parasailing should be included, since they also use the lifting power of air to stay afloat.”

“Good idea.” She jotted down a note.

“I’m sorry I’m not as involved with this project as I should be. I’ve been distracted by a personal matter. In fact, I’ll probably be spending another day over in Seattle.”

Another getaway day with Dana Randolph? Abby tried to think of some tactful way to let Hugo know that he didn't have to hide the romance from her. She didn't want to come off sounding nosy about the relationship, but she did want him to know she cared and wanted the two of them to be happy.

“Hugo, I, uh, realize that something's been troubling you lately. And I just want you to know that I care and I’m concerned, and you can count on me to help anyway I can.”

Abby couldn't think how she could possibly help in his romance with Dr. Randolph, unless it was to make certain other people knew she didn't disapprove. And to keep to herself those unattractive moments of disappointment and jealousy she’d experienced.

“Thank you, Abby. I appreciate that. It's been a difficult time and your caring means a great deal to me.” He absentmindedly picked up a paper clip on her desk and twisted it into a new shape. “I’ve taken it to the Lord, of course.”

“That's good. I have too.”

“You have?” He looked surprised. “But how did you know? Dr. Randolph surely didn't tell you. That would be a violation of professional ethics, and Dr. Randolph would never—”

He sounded upset, then broke off as he realized Abby was looking at him with a bewildered expression.

“Dr. Randolph didn't tell me anything, but there is talk around town.”

“Talk around town?” Hugo repeated. “Abby, what are we talking about here?”

“You and Dr. Randolph,” she said.

Hugo gave a small groan and then laughed and shook his head. “Don't tell me you’ve heard that rumor that's going around.” He peered at her across the desk, his eyebrows lifted into an inquiring line. “Yes, you have heard it, haven't you?”

“Rumor?” she repeated warily.

“The ridiculous and totally unfounded rumor that Dr. Randolph and I are engaged in some torrid romance.”

“You’re not?”

“Of course not!”

“But you and Dr. Randolph had dinner together at Winifred’s, didn't you?”

“Oh well, yes, that's true.” Hugo nodded. “But it had nothing to do with romance. Mitch called while I was waiting to see Dr. Randolph—”

“Mitch?” Abby interrupted. She was feeling as if she needed a program to keep all the players straight here.

“Mitch Ziegler, the man Dr. Randolph's been seeing for some time. He's in insurance, I think. Over on Lopez. I’ve never met him.” Hugo waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway, they had reservations at Winifred’s, but some emergency came up at Mitch's office and he couldn't make it. He called while I was in her office. Dr. Randolph said they’d already asked the chef to make a special scallop and crab dish they both like, and it was a shame to let that go to waste. So then, quite impulsively, I think, she asked if I’d like to go with her. Which I did. That's where apparently half the town saw us and jumped to the foolish conclusion that we are seeing each other,” he added with a palms-up lift of his hands.

“But I saw you together too. Walking down the street together, looking very engrossed in each other,” Abby blurted before she could stop herself.

He tapped the paper clip on the desk, his unfocused gaze squinting at the window and drizzling rain. “I don't remember . . . Oh yes, I do. It was that day it rained so hard, wasn't it?”

“Yes, it was raining. You were, um, sharing an umbrella, in fact.”

“I don't remember seeing you.”

“I was across the street, just coming out of Siebert's Jewelry.” Hiding behind my own umbrella so you wouldn't see me.

“I had an appointment at the medical clinic for X-rays late that afternoon and then I ran into Dr. Randolph as we were both leaving the building. She had forgotten her umbrella at home. We both had errands to run, so I shared mine with her and we walked downtown together. And what we were talking about was a new surgical technique she’d read about, which I have to admit I did find engrossing.”

“Surgical technique?” Abby repeated, feeling she’d somehow lost the focus of this conversation. “X-rays?”

“I have prostate cancer,” he said bluntly.

Abby's hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. “Oh no …”

“Dr. Randolph was reasonably certain I have it, but she wanted me to consult a specialist in Seattle. That's why I was there overnight, to have a biopsy.”

“Oh.” Abby repeated. She felt dazed and a little ill herself because of the guilt that suddenly deluged her. Cancer. A trip to Seattle to see a specialist for a biopsy. And I’d foolishly thought—

Hugo leaned forward in the chair. “Surely you didn't really think I was involved in some big romance with Dr. Randolph, did you?” He sounded as if he couldn't decide whether to be astonished or amused.

“I’m sorry, Hugo. It didn't seem an unreasonable possibility.”

For a moment she thought he might be angry that she had so misinterpreted the situation, but instead he laughed with his usual good humor. Then his expression turned serious as he studied her thoughtfully. “And you were willing to do whatever you could to help?”

“Of course. You deserve happiness and a full life. If you could find it with Dr. Randolph, I wanted to be supportive.”

“You’re a good woman, Abby.” He nodded as if affirming something he’d always known but perhaps hadn't fully appreciated. “And a generous one too.”

“For a short time I did have a twinge of, oh, something other than supportive feelings,” Abby admitted, wanting to be honest without going into embarrassing details. “Now I’m just so terribly sorry that you’re facing this. Was the specialist in Seattle helpful?”

“He confirmed Dr. Randolph's diagnosis. For the time being I’m on medication, but it may go beyond that. There are various options for treatment, of course. Surgery, radiation, the implantation of radioactive seeds, chemotherapy. I can't say that I’m looking forward to any of them. I just hope the medication does the job and nothing else will be necessary. One blessing is that the cancer hasn't spread beyond the local area. Dr. Randolph caught it early.”

“She's a fine doctor. I have every confidence in her.”

“So do I, as well as in the specialist she sent me to. I just hope she doesn't hear that ridiculous rumor. Can you imagine what she’ll think? She’ll be horrified.”

“I doubt she’ll be horrified,” Abby said. “But if you’re concerned, perhaps you should tell her about the rumor yourself. Then if she does hear it, it won't come as such a shock.”

Hugo blinked, as if that straightforward approach hadn't occurred to him. Then he smiled and nodded. “You’re right, of course. That's exactly what I’ll do. You’re a smart woman, Abby. About people as well as birds and science. You see beneath the surface.”

“Thank you.”

“I should have confided in you from the very first. But sometimes men have this stubborn pride.” He lifted his big shoulders as if bemused by his own actions. “I should have known, given the way you’ve taken Mary's accident in stride and all you’ve done for her, that I could count on you.”

“Is there anything I can do, Hugo?” She searched her mind for possibilities, knowing full well he wasn't apt to come up with something himself even though he’d now confided in her.

“I can handle whatever needs to be done here at the conservatory and museum if you’re hospitalized or need recovery time,” she went on, “so you needn't worry about that. I can be with you at the hospital. I can provide transportation to and from the hospital, or around here, whatever you need. I’m not the world's greatest cook . . . Mary does most of the cooking at our house now . . . but I can come to your place and see that you don't go hungry.”

“Thanks, Abby, I appreciate this more than you can know.”

“Or if there's something else I haven't thought of ?”

“Actually, at this point, I have no idea how things will work out or what kind of help, if any, I may need. For now it's just a matter of taking my medication and twiddling my thumbs until the experts decide what, if anything, comes next.”

Not easy for a man of action like Hugo, Abby knew.

“Just talking with you and not trying to carry it around by myself is a big help,” he added.

“Are you in physical pain?” she asked with concern.

“No. Physically I feel fine. But up here—” He tapped his temple. “Up here I don't do as well. I suppose some of it is that I keep remembering that prostate cancer was what ended my father's life.”

“I’m sorry, Hugo. I didn't know that.”

“And, looking back, although no one ever mentioned it at the time, I’m reasonably certain now that my grandfather also had prostate cancer.”

No wonder he’d been so distracted and troubled. “I wish you’d told me,” she said softly.

“I wish I had too. I’d have made things easier for myself.” His smile was rueful. “I’m afraid it took me a while even to take it to the Lord. Behaving like what some young people would no doubt call a stubborn old geezer.”

Abby smiled. Hugo may have taken on a few years and he could be a bit stubborn, but he was a long way from geezerhood.

“From what I’ve heard, the cure rate for prostate cancer is now quite high when it's caught early. Treatment is much more advanced than it was back when your father and grandfather died.”

“I’m counting on that.”

“And prayer never hurts.”

“I’m counting on that too.” He stood up, looked at the twisted paper clip in his hand as if he didn't know where it had come from and tossed it at the waste basket. He headed for the door, then stopped and turned, a mischievous twinkle in his usually dignified blue eyes. “Actually, I’m quite flattered that you thought there even could be a romance between the beautiful young doctor and me.”

“I won't comment because you might get a swelled head,” Abby teased.

Hugo laughed again and turned back to the door, head shaking back and forth, although she didn't know if that was bemusement at the rumors or at what she’d just said.

ABBY TRIED TO CALL the Durangers on both Tuesday and Wednesday evenings. Again no response. No news from Henry, either. Nothing from Gordon Siebert. Sometimes it felt as if the necklace had simply materialized out of thin air and somehow attached itself to her desk. One matter did get resolved, although it was unrelated to the necklace. Thursday morning Hugo stopped by her office.

“I did what you suggested and mentioned that rumor to Dr. Randolph.”

“Had she heard it?”

“No, not yet anyway.”

“What was her reaction? Was she upset?”

“Not at all. She just laughed and said she was flattered that anyone might think that.”

“That sounds like Dr. Randolph,” Abby said.

“Well, flattered as I am by the rumor, if you hear it again, just stomp on it, okay? Really squash it.”

“I’ll do that.”

ABBY SETTLED INTO HER OFFICE and worked solidly throughout the morning. When she finally took a break and went out to see if the museum had any visitors today, she realized Ida Tolliver was at the front desk this afternoon. She was surprised. Ida usually peeked in to say hi when she arrived.

“Hi, Ida. I didn't know you were here. I spotted you at Little Flock on Sunday but didn't get a chance to talk to you. Have you heard about a Claudia?”

“Not so far.” Ida briskly walked over to straighten brochures and postcards on the rack, her back to Abby.

The situation regarding Claudia and the necklace was certainly consistent, Abby thought with frustration.

“Well, keep your ears open,” she said finally.

“Something may turn up now that everyone knows,” Ida said.

A definite tartness in Ida's tone made Abby look at her sharply. She realized that Ida was acting rather miffed. “Everyone knows what?”

“About your desk. About the necklace. About the curse, and even I didn't know about that.” Hands on hips, Ida flashed her an accusing look.

“Ida, what are you talking about?”

“You warned me not to tell anyone about the necklace and I haven't said a word, not a single word to anyone. But you’ve been blabbing all over town about it! You could at least have told me about the curse.”

The accusation about blabbing was such a gross inaccuracy that Abby was momentarily indignant. But a mental picture of herself running around town and “blabbing” to people on every street corner struck her as funny, and she laughed even as she tried to figure out what had prompted the accusation.

“Can you be more specific about my blabbing?” Abby inquired. “‘Everyone’ is whom?”

“Well, maybe I shouldn't have called it blabbing. You’re not a blabber. I’m sorry,” Ida apologized. She tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “It's just that everyone does seem to know. One of the other waitresses told me. She said the necklace even has a name. The Blue Moon.”

“Actually, a blue diamond, not an entire necklace, is named that. But we haven't determined that the diamond in the necklace I found is definitely the Blue Moon. It's merely an interesting possibility.”

“But if it is the Blue Moon, it has this curse on it right? People have died strangely. Whole towns have been wiped out.”

“Ida Tolliver, do you actually believe such a thing is possible?” Abby demanded, hands on her hips.

Ida slid a brochure back into its proper slot. “Well, no, I guess I don’t,” she said slowly, as if she was perhaps only now straightening this out in her head. “It's more like a superstition than a Christian belief, isn't it?”

“It's definitely not Christian.”

“I’ll point that out to Aaron.”

Abby groaned. “Aaron knows about this too? You told him?”

“I didn't tell him.” Ida sounded defensive. “He’d already heard it. I told you, everyone knows. And some people are scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“Julie, that's the friend who works with me at the café, had a copy of something that told all about a whole town where the diamond was kept for a while that burned down. Although I don't think that's going to keep her from calling you. She said her grandmother used to have a blue necklace, but no one knows what became of it and she thinks this one you found might be it. Julie's nice. She works double shifts sometimes, trying to pay off some medical bills from when she had an ear operation.”

Abby felt leaden. Just what she’d feared. That the true owner's identity would get lost in a tangle of phony claims. People might be afraid of a curse, but the prospect of three million dollars tended to embolden even the apprehensive.

She marched back to her office, looked up a number and dialed. Gordon Siebert's suave voice answered.

“Siebert's Jewelry. May I help you?”

“This is Abby Stanton. I’ve just heard there are all sorts of rumors and gossip flying around town about my having a valuable necklace with a curse on it in my possession and that the ownership on it is up for grabs.”

There was a moment of startled silence and then Gordon said stiffly, and with an almost palpable hauteur, “And you think I am behind these rumors?”

“As far as I know, you’re the only person outside Sergeant Cobb and Hugo Baron who originally knew about this.” A second thought reminded her that not even Sergeant Cobb knew about the supposed curse. “There are apparently even copies of that computer printout I gave you floating around.”

“I assure you I haven't said a word, and the computer printout is still in my desk where I put it after you left. In fact I’ll check, just to prove it to you.”

Silence, as he put her on hold. He returned a few moments later.

“I have the computer printout you left with me right here in my hand. I haven’t, as yet, even had an opportunity to contact other jewelers concerning it.”

“I see. And do you have a copy machine?”

Another silence, one that seemed to hum with tension until Gordon said stiffly, but with considerably less hauteur, “I’ll have to get back to you on this.”