“That apparently did the trick because then Mr. Oke explained that a brooch matching that description had been stolen from a museum’s display of antique Hawaiian royal jewelry on January twenty-fourth. He said if your brooch is the one in question, he’ll have to notify the FBI.”

“Holy cow, Marco. We’ve been treating that brooch as a piece of costume jewelry.”

“It might be costume jewelry. We don’t know yet if your brooch is the same one that was stolen, but I’ll admit the timing is interesting.”

“On the other hand,” I said, “isn’t it kind of far-fetched to think a thief would ship a valuable Hawaiian brooch to New Chapel?”

“Not all that far-fetched. Mr. Oke said there are collectors all over the world who pay exorbitant amounts of money for rare pieces, stolen or not. The collectors go through a middleman who connects them with the art or jewelry they’d like to add to their collections. Some of these middlemen are the actual thieves. They can be notoriously wealthy and are often extremely dangerous. The FBI is working on a case like that in Chicago right now, looking for a man known as the Flame.”

“Art collectors actually buy stolen merchandise?”

“Are you kidding? Museums buy stolen merchandise. There’s a big black market for art and antiquities. But do you understand what this means? If the brooch you found is actually this priceless Hawaiian jewelry, and it came in a shipment that was supposed to go to Tom’s Green Thumb, then someone at Tom’s is in on the theft.”

“How realistic is it to imagine Harding could engineer the theft of a Hawaiian brooch?”

“He might have met someone in prison who told him about the scheme. A lot of that goes on behind bars. If Harding knew he was going to be released for treatment, he could have arranged to be the middleman, or he could have volunteered Honey for that job.”

“Let’s imagine that the brooch came to Bloomers instead of going to Tom’s Green Thumb. Then someone on the other end had to slip it in the box and send it to him, right?”

“You got it. Which tells me the thief would be employed by your supplier, or be the supplier himself.”

“I can’t imagine Mr. Mikala being the thief. Lottie has been ordering from him for a long time and has never had a problem. And yes, I know you can’t judge a person’s moral character by that. So what do we do now?”

“The first step is to take detailed photos of the brooch and e-mail them to Mr. Oke so he can verify its authenticity. I wouldn’t be surprised if the FBI showed up asking to see it, either.”

“My mom still has the brooch. We’ll have to stop by there after work.”

Marco wiped his hands. “Okay, let’s do this. I need to go down to the bar and finish some bookkeeping and cut checks for the crew. After that, I’ll run out to Tom’s Green Thumb and see what else Robin can tell me-like how Charlotte might have gotten anemone petals stuck in her shoe. Then I’ll head over to my apartment to wait for my mom. In the meantime, you call your mom and let her know we’ll be by after five o’clock.”

“That’s my part? Make a phone call?”

“Your part is to stay here where it’s safe.” Marco glanced around to see if the other customers were watching, then leaned down to give me a lingering kiss. “Tonight we’ll go out for a nice meal at Adagio’s and finally have that discussion. How does that sound?”

Better than dining at the country club with the wedding hunters. “It sounds perfect, except for one thing. Your mother will be here. Are you going to leave her at your apartment alone on her first night in town?”

“Oh. Right. Well, we’ll just have to find time to be alone together after dinner.”

“What about your PI case?”

Marco thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “We’ll make it work somehow.”

Unless Marco was a magician, I didn’t see how.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

S itting on a bench on the courthouse lawn, the driver pressed the button on his earpiece to phone his boss. “The boyfriend is on the move. He’s entering the Down the Hatch bar. I can see him walking toward the rear, up a hallway, into a room… and now he shut the door.”

“And what is happening inside the flower shop?”

The driver refocused his small, high-powered binoculars. “Looks like a full house in the coffee shop, a handful of customers in the flower shop.”

“Good. Keep watching the boyfriend and be ready to act. Do whatever it takes to keep him from her. We must make our move today. The risk of discovery is too great to delay any longer.”

“Forgive me for saying so, boss, but how is that gonna happen? You took all the brooches she had, and none of them were the genuine article. You’ve searched the obvious places. She’s gotta have it stashed somewhere safe.”

“I don’t think so. Someone has been making copies for her, and since the original can’t be located, my guess is that it’s being used as the model. Thus, it is a matter of learning the location of the copier.”

“How are you gonna make that happen?”

“My plan is already in action.”

My frustration level rose another notch as I watched Marco head out of the parlor. There had to be something I could do besides make one phone call. Musing, I packed up the leftover pizza and stowed it in the refrigerator, then stopped to check on Tara’s progress.

“How’s it going?”

She sighed and tossed the magazine onto her discard pile. “It’d be going a lot better if you weren’t so picky. Can I take the rest home with me and look later? I’m bored.”

“No.” I picked up the stack and stuck them in my desk drawer. “That’s how rumors get started.”

“Fine. So when do I get my reward?”

“Tomorrow.” I’d have to come up with something quick.

Tara gave me an obligatory hug, took a fresh daisy from the cooler for her hair, and left.

I saw a few orders on the spindle, but knew I could whip them out in no time, so I sat down at the desk to call my mom while she was on her lunch break at school. To reach her, I had to go through the school’s secretary, Midge, and have her paged.

Although I told Midge it wasn’t an emergency, Mom still answered with a breathless, “Abigail, did something happen? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom. I just need to let you know I’ll be stopping by the house later. I have to pick up the anthurium brooch.”

“Today? But I haven’t finished with it yet.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but it’s possible the brooch might be a valuable piece of jewelry stolen from a Hawaiian museum.”

“And I’m making copies of it?” she whispered into the phone. “Am I going to get into trouble?”

Her copies weren’t thatgood. “No, Mom. You won’t get into trouble. But I do need to find out if it is the stolen brooch. So will you have it out for me, say, shortly after five o’clock?”

“I might not be home, so I’ll tell your dad where it is so he can have it waiting. I’m meeting with my dissension team after school.”

“Your what?”

“Dissension team. You know, dissenters. Protesters. I told the other teachers about Uniworld’s plans to open a dairy farm and use bovine hormones on the cows, and all of them volunteered to help. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Help you do what exactly?”

“You’ll see. I’ve got to phone your father before the bell rings. Keep me posted on the brooch, honey. And try to make it to dinner tonight. Bye.”

Mom had a dissension team? At least there was safety in numbers.

Lottie came through the curtain and headed toward the kitchen. “Joe’s here for a UPS delivery. I’ll let him in.”

“Wait. I’ll do that, Lottie. I want to talk him.”

I hurried through the kitchen to the back door and threw my shoulder against it to push it open. Joe, a lanky guy with bushy brown hair, came striding up to the door carrying a huge box.