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Maybe all of the above.
“I’ll take it,” Fiona said. She spoke quickly, as if she knew she needed to lay claim to the stone before she changed her mind.
“Wonderful,” I said. “Let me wrap it up for you. Credit card?”
Since the chunk of citrine was nearly three hundred dollars, I sort of doubted she would pay me in cash. And she did hand over her card, although it was a platinum debit one and not an actual credit card.
Even better. I didn’t like the thought of people going into debt to purchase the pieces they wanted.
I processed the transaction, then got out several sheets of brown wrapping paper and did my best to make sure the citrine would get home safely. After carefully placing it in a heavy-duty gift bag, I set it on the counter.
“Here you go,” I told her. “I hope you enjoy it.”
“Oh, I will,” Fiona replied. “I have the perfect spot for it picked out on my mantel.”
She went out after that, carrying the bag in both hands so there was no chance of the bottom ripping out. I watched her go, feeling oddly happy. And no, it wasn’t just that I’d managed to sell one of the most expensive pieces in my shop. It was more that I knew the citrine had gone exactly where it was supposed to go. Also, Fiona’s husband was a manager at the Fairport mining company, which still operated a huge plant on the outskirts of Globe. I knew she probably hadn’t even put a dent in her discretionary spending for the month with the purchase, so I could bask in the afterglow of the sale guilt-free.
Unfortunately, that afterglow didn’t last very long. About fifteen minutes after Fiona left — and just a little after eleven, the time the shop was officially supposed to open — Chief Lewis came through the front door, wearing the scowl that seemed to be perpetually fixed on his hard features.
Or maybe that was just the expression he always wore whenever in my presence.
“Good morning,” I said politely. “Looking for something in particular? Incense? Essential oils?”
He managed to look even more annoyed, if that was possible. “Tell me what you were doing at the crash site last night.”
“Calvin asked me to come with him, since I knew the victim,” I replied.
His eyes went from flinty to positively glacial. Maybe it was the way I’d referred to Calvin so casually, or maybe it was simply that he didn’t like being reminded that the chief of the tribal police had just as much jurisdiction in the matter, if not more. “Are you a detective, Ms. Marx?” he rasped. “A police officer?”
“No,” I said sweetly. It was a lovely morning and I’d just made a huge sale, so I refused to let him put me off my stride. “But I am a psychic.”
He sniffed. “So you say.”
“It’s more than just ‘saying,’ Chief Lewis,” I told him, picking up exactly why he seemed to be in an even more foul temper than usual. “You’re in a bad mood because you forgot it was your wife’s birthday and she read you the riot act before you left for work this morning.”
His hard gray eyes widened, flickering with disbelief before the familiar scowl clamped back down again. “Josie must have told you that.”
“No,” I said. “Actually, I haven’t even seen her today. And there’s no reason to get that information from her, because I can feel it coming off you in waves. Maybe you should try to make it up to your wife by getting her a nice present. I have lots of lovely jewelry in the case here.”
“Becky isn’t into all this woo-woo stuff,” he retorted. Actually, he practically snarled the words, nostrils flaring in dislike.
“A lot of the jewelry isn’t ‘woo-woo,’” I replied calmly. “They’re items I chose because they’re beautiful. What about that amethyst pendant down there?” I pointed at a really lovely piece, a stylized square cross set with faceted amethysts and smooth moonstone cabochons, with delicate Bali-style beadwork on the sections between the bezels. “Purple’s her favorite color, isn’t it?”
He stared at the pendant, brow still creased with a frown. “It’s a cross. I thought you types weren’t Christian.”
“I’m not,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice as neutral as possible. “Or rather, I believe there’s something of value to be found in all the world’s religions. Jesus was a follower of the light, like many others. So, why wouldn’t I have a cross in my store?”
Obviously, such a confounding thought had never crossed Chief Lewis’s mind. He continued to stare down at the pendant in the case, almost as if that was easier because at least that way, he wouldn’t have to meet my eyes. At last, in grudging tones, “How much?”
“Seventy-five dollars,” I replied. “And I can wrap it up and put it in a nice gift box for you.”
Another long pause. “All right.”
Trying not to smile, I pulled the pendant out of the case, then busied myself with wrapping it up in some of the silvery paper with little white stars blazoned on it that I’d bought exactly for occasions such as this one. I topped it with a neat white bow, and slid it across the top of the display case toward the chief.
He got out his wallet and put down five twenty-dollar bills. Trying to hide from his wife exactly how much he’d spent on her birthday gift?
Maybe.
