CHAPTER NINETEEN: Dizzy with Delight
Blair was happy to have the chance to sleep in a bed for a change. Street living had allowed him the opportunity to appreciate the little things, like being able to sleep without worrying about getting his brains bashed in over a sandwich stashed away in his pocket, or freezing to death on some deserted street corner. Hopping onto the bed like a schoolboy and lying on top of the covers, he crossed his legs and rested both hands under his head. The mattress was firm, like the kind he’d been dreaming of for the past six months. Finally being able to kick off those confounded dress shoes made the moment a perfect one.
The pine desk, with its matching chair and hutch standing against the far wall, made the room feel homey, as did the subdued light coming from the lamp on top of it. Lace doilies placed under the books on the hutch and on each arm of the chair were a nice touch, most likely Ingrid’s.
When he heard the bathroom door open down the hall, he couldn’t resist sliding over to the door and peeking out. It was Ingrid, that sleek, golden-haired goddess, smelling of lilac soap and herbal shampoo. Her pink robe was well above the knee and from where he was standing, those legs of hers were more of a paragon than the hunks of corundum downstairs could ever be. His hands were by no means burly, but he was sure that he could hold that diminutive waist of hers with no problem at all. Blair shook his head with a sigh; he couldn’t understand why Thomas hadn’t taken it upon himself to marry the girl. There was a fool for every season, but some folks insisted on making it a year-round thing.
Ingrid paused and turned around; perhaps his sighing had attracted her attention. Even at that distance, her eyes met his with a most magnificent sparkle. Her blonde hair, all wet and slicked back, appeared darker and therefore intensified the blue in her eyes. Seeing those long lashes and cute lips wrestled the breath from his chest, making him dizzy with delight for a moment. She even allowed him a glimpse of that elusive smile of hers. To say she was merely a gorgeous creature wouldn’t have done her the justice she so richly deserved.
“The bathroom’s free,” she said. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.”
“See you in the morning,” she whispered, her soft, seductive voice drifting down the hall as if on a cloud. Of course she could’ve been nicer, but what she lacked in the niceties she more than made up for in those winding, twisting, complicated curves and that irresistible ambience of pure, primordial sex appeal. She waved goodnight before closing the bedroom door.
“Yeah,” Blair said. Becoming aware of the goofy-looking grin perched on his face, he cleared his throat and then wiped his mouth.
Blair found his rundown Loafers next to the desk and put them on. Stepping into the hallway, he could hear Ingrid’s hair dryer behind the master bedroom door. As he went downstairs, he paused to look at the rubies resting on the desk in the living room where Thomas had left them. He went over and picked up the matrix, admiring the crystals in the light from the hall.
The gems, like Ingrid, looked lovely in any light. Even unpolished, the ruby crystals were saturated with a fervent, incandescent red. How could aluminum and oxygen ever mesh into such brilliance? Just point one percent of chromium oxide nestled deep within that crystalline alumina. If it were a car, it would have been a Rolls Royce; if a woman, Marilyn Monroe.
As Blair palmed the crystals, he glanced around. Every window seemed to have someone standing there watching him. What he had must’ve been worth millions, yet it rested on a desktop as if it were just another paperweight. The thing should’ve been locked up in a vault somewhere, with perhaps a barbed wire fence around it, a hundred watchdogs, and several dozen national guardsmen at the ready. But alas, there was only Blair Vaughn to make sure it stayed safe and secure and that was funny, especially since he’d proven time and time again that he couldn’t even take care of himself, let alone something of value.
He walked out of the front door and stood on the step. After shutting off the yard light, he gazed up at the familiar sky, the very one he’d slept under innumerable times in the past, and smiled. A cool breeze touched his face, and he drew in a deep breath. The familiarity of it all gave him such a feeling of serenity.
Remembering the stones in his hand, he tested their weight. Perhaps the crystals could set him straight again; having them could buy him a new beginning. He squinted out into the darkness as if a hundred thieves were lurking in every shadow. Where could he hide something he held almost as dear as life itself? His daddy always told him to stick something of value in a spot so unusual, so utterly ridiculous, that no one would ever think of looking for it there. “Think like an idiot, my son, and geniuses won’t even come close.”
The black mailbox next to the door caught his attention almost instantly; anyone crazy enough to put something valuable in an unlocked box should be confined to a very small room with bars on the windows. But doing absurd things seemed to come naturally for Blair. Looking down the driveway, he noticed Thomas’s roadside mailbox. Obviously the postman didn’t use the one next to the house anymore, so why not?
Taking the handkerchief out of the breast pocket of the suit he was wearing, he used it to wrap the rubies up. Then he put them in the mailbox and closed the lid. Patting the top of it and shaking his head, he truly believed he was the most foolish man on earth. Still, he left the rubies in there and actually felt comfortable with the decision.
Blair went inside the house and closed the door behind him, making sure it was locked and chained. Since willpower was something from his past, his mind drifted to Thomas’s liquor cabinet. Common sense always got in the way, especially when he needed a drink.
Practically tiptoeing into the kitchen, Blair found the liquor cabinet exactly where it had been the last time he’d visited. It hadn’t budged an inch. Waiting forever for Thomas and Ingrid to settle down for the night would be worth it if he could just find a bottle of anything in there. Trying the knob, he got angry when he discovered it locked. Thomas and Ingrid didn’t have any children, so the only reason Thomas locked the cabinet was because Blair was there. Thomas was treating him like a child, and he resented that.
Blair grabbed the knob and yanked on it, thrashing the door against the metal lock, trying to rip it right off its hinges or away from the wall, whichever gave way first. Realizing all the noise he was making, he stopped and listened carefully. If Thomas had heard the commotion, he would come down those stairs for sure. Then Blair wouldn’t have a prayer of getting a decent drink. When Thomas didn’t show himself, Blair heaved a sigh of relief.
Blair crept through the kitchen like a thief, rifling through drawers to find something that would help him open the cabinet. The drawer filled with cutlery came to him like a beacon shining on a foggy night. Picking up the largest knife, a brown-handled carver at least nineteen inches long, Blair wedged the end of the blade between the cabinet door and the frame, but it was too weak to get the job done.
“Damn it!” Blair said, tossing the knife onto the counter and going back to the drawer. There was no time for civility; he needed a drink and he needed one now. Grabbing a meat cleaver and forcing it between the opening in the door, Blair had to admit that fine oak cabinet gave a good fight, but he finally managed to get it open. The lock didn’t break, but he sent the wood around it flying. He used the cleaver to chip away at what was left that was still holding the door closed.
When he opened the cabinet, he rejoiced on seeing three bottles at his disposal: a tall bottle of burgundy, a bottle of seltzer water, which didn’t count at all, and behind that was a most glorious bottle of gin.
Blair grabbed the gin and swept some of the wood fragments under the edge of the lower cabinets with his foot. He also closed the liquor cabinet, as if hoping that Thomas wouldn’t notice the gaping, unvarnished hole around the lock. Blair felt bad about destroying Thomas’s things, but he would make it up to him somehow.
Sitting down and then easing back on the sofa in the living room, Blair removed the twist top and took a big swal
low. Burning as it went down, the liquor felt like acid against his lips and throat. A bottle of Taquernay gin and a woman from anywhere had always been enough to drive men to war and to conquer their neighbors. Who was he to insist that he was better than those who came before him?
Pulling Vinnie’s map and notes out of his pocket, he started reading more of the information. Evidently Vinnie had taken a few photographs of the place where he’d found the rubies. Each of four photographs were described in detail in the notes, with simple diagrams noting the direction of the view. On the first two pages, he’d made sketches of outcrops and other relevant features of the discovery area. Vinnie had used coordinates to locate the outcrop, obviously using compass bearings on prominent landmarks around the area so that he would be able to find it again.
It surprised Blair to discover the mention of a 35.62 carat star ruby that had also been found during one of Vinnie’s trips to North Carolina. A side note said that Quentin Latrice had been the one who’d cut it. Latrice had elected to make it cabochon, an oval, domed-shaped cut with a flat bottom. That explained how Latrice first got involved in all of this.
Looking up from the pages, Blair held them against his chest. As he took another drink from the bottle, he closed his eyes and concentrated on how good the liquor made him feel. Deciding between priceless rubies and a bottle of gin was easy: he would take the gin any day.