The Red Sapphire Secret

By BJ Winters

Miranda St.James is a multi-talented, multi-tasking woman with inexhaustible energy and an equally insatiable appetite for adventure. Her physic instinct more often than not gets Miranda into trouble and even danger. In this case, a chance encounter with a reclusive and very wealthy widow leads beyond a mysterious, un-solved murder and thrusts Miranda into the attention of a serial killer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503541429

BJ Winters

Born in Fort Worth, Texas, raised in a rural suburb with the comfort and security of a working dad and stay-at-home mom, Ken always knew who he was and where he was going. Growing up in a relatively big house at the top of the hill, “Kenny” walked to school on sunny days, took piano lessons on Wednesdays and played outside after his homework and piano practice were done. Most nights, after dinner, he and his little sister would spend some time “watching the lights” from the wonderful view from the front porch. Most of the lots along his side of the street were two or more acres each, which provided plenty of extra space for things like a three-level tree house complete with a “crows next” high above the main levels and behind the over-sized, two-car garage, a special room for his “laboratory” and “radio shack”. His mother seemed oblivious to some of his less-than-safe adventures and his father encouraged his insatiable appetite for mechanical and technical projects. As a teenager, he build a corral for his beloved Palomino horse out of 8-foot railroad crossties and an underground bunker complete with fire pit and chimney. Despite the dangers of falling out of a 50-foot-high tree house, electrocuting himself playing with electricity, experimenting with chemistry making rocket fuel and nitroglycerin and suffocating from smoke inhalation or cave-ins, Kenny somehow survived his adolescent years and over time he came to realize that despite his mother’s seeming nonchalant ignorance of his adventures, she always knew exactly where his was and what he was doing. This was to prove later to be an important factor in forming his character. The other side of Ken’s character was formed by his father’s strong-silent-type persona. J.E.”Dutch” Winters was one of the best-known and most-respected members of the Texas Judicial System. Ken’s dad was a civil law attorney, later a prosecutor for the Tarrant County District Attorney’s Office and finally a Criminal District Court Judge. And although fascinated and keenly interested in his father’s work, Ken’s own career interests favored science and engineering. He attended Arlington State College until it became the University of Texas at Arlington. There, Ken learned “outside the box” as he participated in the Vaqueros Rodeo Club, discovered he could earn college credits bowling and was graduated with more than the basics of his formal curriculum. It was his diversified interests across several disciplines that drove Ken’s success over his 30-year career in the computer business. Ken spent a couple years as a research technician working with lasers and holography in the early 1960’s. He earned a U.S. Patent and prided himself on being “The first person to ever brand cattle, peel potatoes and pop popcorn using a laser.” He participated in the official opening of the final section of the LBJ Freeway loop around Dallas by setting up and executing a ribbon-cutting ceremony using a high-powered laser to cut the ribbon. The publicity and notoriety of getting his name and photograph published in the Dallas Times Herald was only the beginning. He later authored three magazine articles, published two books and was interviewed by all three national network television affiliates for his knowledge in communications and computers. Ken always had a passion for writing and his favorite part of his job as a computer systems consultant was writing proposals, operating manuals and other such technical documentation. He always took great pride in making highly technical information easy to read and understand by the layman, so, it was no great leap for Ken to step into the world of writing fiction. His broad background across many different areas gives him a Tom Clancy-like style that lends realism to his stories.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

If he had thought of everything, he and his wife would have their fortune for life, or if he had overlooked one detail, never. As he limped into the hallway adjacent to the kitchen he was met by his employer. You brought the car up, Guillermo? I would have gotten it myself.

"Si, señor. It is ready for you."

Do you need anything else from town? I’m going to try to beat this storm. Better get off that leg. Rest it.

"No, señor. We have everything we need."

Or soon will have, Guillermo thought as the first heavy drops of rain began to fall.

The servant stood watching under the porte cochere until the car was out of sight. May that be the last I ever see of you.

As the man drove down the steep drive and turned on to the winding country road that led to town, his thoughts were of his three-week-old son. Every phase of my life is different now. Everything is easier now. Now I can entertain in my home and accept invitations to my colleagues’ homes. Now I can face the world. I can go on Sunday outings with my new family and enjoy the sunshine once again—

His thoughts were interrupted by the feel of the mushy brakes that failed to slow his speed, which increased on the slick downward slope. As he fought to keep the car on the narrow dark lane, it hydroplaned and flew straight off the curved road into blackness. He realized his life was over and his last thoughts were of his son. I will never see him grow up now—

Four hours later the manservant’s wife watched the driveway as the sheriff’s patrol car approached. "La policia, they are coming now," she said to her husband. When the woman answered the front door, her husband stood a few feet behind her.

Ma’am, we’re with the Tarrant County Sheriff’s Department. Is this the residence of Howard Clifton Collier?

Yes, officers. Please come in. What is happening?

Are you employed by the Colliers?

"Si, señor. For many years. Mrs. Collier, she is upstairs. She is weak. She has a new baby."

I’m sorry, ma’am. We’ll have to speak to her. Can she come down?

"Si. I will bring her down to you."

"Officers, por favor, follow me," Guillermo requested as he showed the deputies into the parlor.

Thank you, we prefer to stand, the older deputy said, lowering his head in a solemn gesture that signified they were there to carry out an official task.

Upstairs, the young woman received the news of the deputies downstairs with alarm. What do they want? Tell them I can’t come down yet. Can’t you please get rid of them somehow? she said with growing hysteria.

No, I do not know why they are here, the servant lied. "You must come. We have no choice. You must be tranquila por su bebe. Su leche will dry up if you act so nerviosa. Reaching into her pocket she withdrew a ring with a blood-red center stone encircled with diamonds, and instructed her mistress as she slipped the ring on her finger, Here, put on your wedding ring. I am sure your fingers are not still swollen up. See, it is completely clean, like new."

The servant led the woman, who was stiff from terror, into the parlor. One deputy stepped forward. Mrs. Collier? he asked, then continued when he saw the fear in the mute young woman’s eyes. There’s been an auto accident. I’m sorry, ma’am, your husband has been killed. Is there a relative or someone I can contact with the details?

"Dios mio. Yo tengo la culpa. It is my fault, the servantwoman cried, If mi Marido had not hurt his leg, he would have picked up the box of groceries I ordered instead of poor Señor Collier. Now just look what I have caused."

The manservant grabbed his mistress as she fainted and laid her on a couch. While his wife attended the unconscious woman, he said, "My wife and I will call Señor Collier’s partner in his law business. We will take care of everything. Thank you, officers, for coming. We were afraid something had happened when he was gone so long. How did the accident happen?" he said, pleased that he had thought to ask.

His car went off the road about three miles from here and crashed onto the rocks below. The car blew up on impact. There’s not much left, the officer added, obviously relieved not to have to give the details to the young wife lying on the couch.

"La señora will be well. There is no more family to call. I will call Señor Collier’s partner now. He will know what needs to be done. I am sure he will call you," the servant said, remembering to limp as if in pain as he showed the two deputies out. As he returned to the parlor he assumed a somber attitude. The woman who was coming to on the couch did not see the conspiratorial look exchanged by Guillermo and his wife.

That night as the couple prepared for bed in the servants’ quarters, they talked of the new life they would have.

"Mañana por la mañana we will hire the men to build us our own casa. Mañana por la mañana we will hire more people to help us with la casa grande, the man said to his wife. We work too much here. Now we can have an easy life with all the money and everything we want."

"And el niño?" his wife asked.

"Si, if that is what you want."

"Si. We can spend our evenings sitting by our own fire in our own casa pequeña. And I will sleep well now. Now I will have no more pesadillas. Now we have proven our loyalty. Dios, grant us peace."

CHAPTER ONE

Miranda kept her steps purposefully slow as she walked down the block to Katherine, who was waiting in the van. Turn around in this driveway and go back the way we came in case they’re looking out the window, she instructed as she climbed in beside the older woman. His mother claimed not to know where he’s living, but his little sister was rolling around on the sofa playing with a dog and chanting, ‘He lives at number 59. He lives at number 59.’ She heard her mother lie to me about not knowing where her son lived. I bet that kid’s getting throttled now. I kept smiling at the mother as if I couldn’t hear the little girl and prayed I looked innocent, Miranda recounted.

You haven’t looked innocent since the day I caught you and the neighbor boy naked in the creek, Katherine delivered dryly.

Ancient history. I am grateful you didn’t tell Grandmother.

About the creek or what you do now? Katherine asked with a gleam in her eye.

Now, Katherine, don’t threaten me. You don’t want to upset her any more than I do.

That’s right. I didn’t tell on you for her sake, not yours, Ms. Priss.

The guy’s mother phoned him while I stood there with a frozen smile on my face. He asked to speak to me. I gave him the whole spiel and he seemed hooked. Anyway we’ve got to get over to his apartment before he has time to get suspicious. Can you believe he wants me to go to a phone booth and call him before he tells me where he lives? And I’m supposed to act like that’s perfectly normal, like all the gifts I deliver are to people that won’t give out their addresses. I hope he doesn’t decide to meet me at the pay phone instead of letting me come to his apartment.

After driving to the area of the suspect’s apartment, Miranda and Katherine chose a meeting place.

I’ll get out over there and walk to the gas station so he won’t see the van, Miranda said, gesturing to the corner of a busy intersection. She walked to the phone booth as the man had instructed and shuffled papers in case she was being observed. Hello, this is Paige Turner. I just talked to you from your mother’s—

Yeah, you got the pearls?

Uh, yes. Can I bring them to you now? I’ve got other prizes to deliver this afternoon and my feet are killin’ me.

Is that you in the pink top and jeans?

Yeah. Hey, man, where are you? Miranda asked as she looked to the apartments.

That’s me walkin’ out the front door with the cordless phone, the man said. Come on over.

Miranda gave him a wave of her clipboard and started to jog across the boulevard. She caught herself and slowed to a steady walk, giving credence to the feet are killin’ me story. The more vulnerable she seemed, the more strangers trusted her. She puffed as she neared him, as if out of shape.

My friend’s givin’ me a ride and she went to the mall, so I had to walk. I hope she doesn’t run off and leave me, she delivered to the unkempt young man with no pupils. You Mr. English?

Yeah, he said as he turned and walked through the open front door.

Oh, yes. Miranda cheered to herself. I’m in.

Hello, Miranda delivered to the hard-looking young woman who was leaning just inside the door.

Hi, the girl returned with a glazed expression.

This here’s my old lady, the young man said.

Miranda introduced herself to the heavily made-up young girl who was wearing a royal-blue, skin-tight satin dress, and pegged her for a topless dancer at one of the nearby bars.

Keeping a running prattle so Jerry English wouldn’t have time to think, Miranda went into her act, Ms. Sutter from Sutter’s Jewelry down at the Trader’s Village wants me to get your signatures on this release so she knows I didn’t pocket the prize myself. I guess she just don’t trust me.

I don’t remember signing up for any contest, the man mumbled.

You said you were from Traders’ Village flea market? the girl asked.

Yes. Actually, Sutter’s Jewelry booth. You must have entered some months ago, what with giving your mother’s address and all. Well, anyway, Ms. Sutter was ill and wasn’t able to have the contest when it was scheduled. I never met her. I just answered an ad in the paper and she sent the stuff over with the instructions, Miranda said, pretending to be thinking of what to do next. Oh, here. As you know you won the opera-length strand of pearls with matching earrings. Let’s see, I’m supposed to present them to you now, she said, as if to herself. Taking the black velvet bag out of her satchel, she made a show of letting them see the fancy wrap as she unrolled the bag and held the pearls up to their greedy gazes.

How much are they worth? the girl asked.

Well, between you and me, about fifty dollars, Miranda answered, receiving the deflated response she’d expected. But Ms. Sutter claims they’re genuine cultured pearls worth three-hundred dollars. You’re supposed to be able to tell if they’re real or not by their roughness. See those little bumps? Maybe they really are worth three hundred. I don’t want to lose my job.

Miranda took quick glances around the apartment as their attention was diverted. Nothing. A lamp. A sofa. And this rickety table and chairs. And even these appear to be the standard sets that come with furnished apartments. Nothing personal. No magazines. They could be moving in or out, or just walked in off the street with the clothes on their backs.

As she continued to carry on with frivolous talk, her chest tightened as she heard the sound of a baby’s cry from the kitchen. She appeared to ignore the baby lying in a carrier on the filthy floor and smiled as the girl stuck a dirty bottle in its mouth. I promise I will get help for you, little one. Hang in there, she vowed to the innocent victim of ignorance and drugs.

Miranda held the pearls up and proceeded to place them around the girl’s neck. Now I have to get a picture of the winners with the prize so I can collect my money. I won’t get paid without the picture and your signatures, Miranda pushed as she held her breath. Here, you pose by Mr. English so I can get both of you in the picture. This statement says you got the prize and whether Ms. Sutter can tack up your picture in her booth or not. Miranda smiled as Jerry English and Renee Reynolds signed their names.

Thank you, Mr. English, and I hope you’ll enjoy your prize. And don’t forget to visit Ms. Sutter’s the next time y’all are at Traders’ Village, Miranda chanted as if remembering her script. I hope my ride hasn’t left me. If I have to call a cab that’ll take all my profit for delivering the prizes, she said, continuing the harmless-me act.

As Miranda briskly walked to the van, Katherine could see the satisfied smile of mission accomplished on her face. She started the van and drove off the minute Miranda slipped in.

Double back to the service station and watch the driveway. He’ll take the pearls straight to his fence ’cause he’s ready for a fix. You should have seen that place. Empty. Nothing personal. Just a sofa, lamp, table and chairs, and one dirty six-month-old baby lying on the floor.

I’ll call it in to Child Protective Services. Don’t worry, Katherine assured her.

I needn’t have been so concerned. He was so stoned I could’ve been wearing a badge and he wouldn’t have been suspicious. He probably wanted to make sure I wasn’t a process server, but his greed overcame his caution. It works every time. Their greed always does them in. I got both their names by way of signature. Hers is fake. It’s probably her stage name, but I got their fingerprints too. Now, if they’ll be so kind as to show us where their fence or dealer works from, we’ll have that, plus their names, address, phone number, picture with her sitting in his lap, and tag number.

That’s all? Katherine mocked.

I didn’t want to push it. He looked desperate and I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. And besides he’s not our man.

How come?

My informant, a.k.a. Janet’s husband, Robert, lied. He told me he saw Jerry English leaving their apartment complex driving a yellow hatchback and he was with a girl with long blonde hair. Well, a year ago that was true, which is probably the last time Robert saw Jerry. Now Jerry drives a red mini truck and his girlfriend is a natural brunette. They’ve been together for nearly one year. Robert stole Janet’s stuff. Why else would he send me on a wild-goose chase? He probably had the TV, VCR, and stereo in the trunk of the car he was leaning on while I was standing there listening to his lies.

You learned all this in fifteen minutes. That’s a record.

Talk, lead, and listen, that’s my specialty. Get ready. Here they come now.

Why do we still need to follow this guy if he isn’t the one that stole Janet’s belongings?

Because this guy is obviously guilty of something. I’ll bet there’s a warrant waiting for him at the police station. And maybe there is some connection between their fence and Robert. Anyway, I want that girl to know she has to take care of that baby or CPS will take it away. Tonight I’ll stake out Janet’s apartment and catch the real thief.

Now, Miranda, forget it. You know I don’t want you out with everything that’s goin’ on.

I’ll take protection and I won’t have to wait long. Robert’s gonna come running to collect his stuff from the parking lot and I’ll speak to him then.

How are his—never mind. I don’t want to know. He’s gonna be real mad.

You mean angry.

No. I mean mad, a drug-crazed maniac angry at you.

It’s not like it’s the first time. I’ll be careful. Promise.

CHAPTER TWO

The next morning Katherine sat at the large wooden kitchen table making the new work schedule for St. James’ Place residents, or guests, as Georgia St. James, Miranda’s grandmother, preferred to call them. The private mansion sheltered, educated, and rehabilitated as many as six battered and abused women and their children at a time. When Miranda entered the huge sunlight-filled kitchen from the side entrance, Yolanda, a former resident and now the cook, didn’t turn from her task at the stainless-steel sink, but her shoulders told Miranda she was miffed.

Katherine pulled her reading glasses down, and with a conspiratorial smile, peered at the cook’s stiff back and then up to the copper clock above the sink, telling Miranda that Yolanda was upset over her late arrival.

Miranda smiled and greeted Yolanda with, Do I smell my favorite banana-nut muffins? You did save me some, didn’t you, Yolanda? she asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee from the insulated carafe.

Yolanda took a deep breath and pulled her shoulders up in a gesture of lifting a heavy burden before turning to receive Miranda’s apologetic smile. "All the other señoras have eaten and are working. But si, I save some muffins for you."

Miranda didn’t get home till after three this morning, Yolanda. She was helping Janet relocate, find a new home, Katherine added, trying to placate the sensitive woman.

"Si, si. She is safe now?"

Yes. She’s in her new apartment and loves it, Miranda told her.

And her mister, did he go?

He left and took his belongings and has no idea where to find Janet. Everything is fine, Miranda said for Yolanda’s benefit as Katherine hid her smile in her paperwork.

You’re on kitchen duty tonight, Katherine informed Miranda as she handed her the worksheet.

Miranda skimmed the schedule, looking for the menu. I’ll pick up some orange roughy or flounder on the way home. Do you need anything from the store today, Yolanda?

"No, just el pescado, the fish, gracias."

I’ll be back by four, or rather we, if you can join me, Katherine? I’m picking up the, uh, pictures and delivering them, Miranda said, letting her voice trail off as she concentrated on her coffee and muffin.

Yes, I’m free today, Katherine told her, and I want to check out an estate sale. Do you have time for that?

Miranda nodded, adding, I’ve got to stop at Ransom’s to look at some stones he called me about a couple of days ago. I want to get first pick and I need to order something special for a new client.

Yolanda, let the answering machine handle the phone calls please and don’t open the gate for anyone, unless they’re in a fire engine.

I remember, señora. I no answer. I just ignore the bells and ignore the rings like no one home.

No, Yolanda. The machine answers and it’s very polite. Please don’t worry about it.

I know the danger, Miranda. Remember why I come here, Yolanda addressed Miranda by her name, signaling she felt insulted.

Of course you do, Yolanda. I didn’t mean to preach. Have a good day and don’t work so hard, okay?

"Si. I go look at the rooms de las señoras now."

By the time the six women residents of St. James’ Place left for work or job training, their beds were made and everything was picked up and in place, but Yolanda liked to think they wouldn’t do their work unless she made sure.

As soon as she left the room, Katherine said, Okay, Miranda. What happened last night? And don’t skip a single detail.

I’m dying to tell you, but wait till we’re in the car. I’ve already showered, so I’ll run and change clothes and meet you in ten minutes. Okay?

Make it twenty. Your grandmother is up and wants to see you. In a dress for a change?

All right, Katherine. I’ll wear a dress.

After visiting with her grandmother, Miranda found Katherine in the van waiting for her. Well, did you remove Robert from your apartment?

For the most part. When I got to the sofa I needed help. Everyone was watching me throw his things into the parking lot and every time I heard a crash of glass or a crack of wood breaking I felt better. He came along about one and threatened, I quote, ‘to have my ass thrown in jail.’ I told him to go ahead it was my apartment and I had served him written notice thirty days ago to vacate. I won’t repeat what he said to that news.

So did he ask where Janet was or what?

No, but he figures I have her hidden. He was more worried about getting what was left of his things into his friend’s pickup before the other tenants took them. He seemed to be looking for something in particular, which he won’t find unless he falls into the sewer, which is where he looks like he belongs.

Miranda you didn’t. He won’t stop till he knows for sure if you took his stash. What did he have?

I don’t know one white powder from another, but it had to be worth a lot. He had too much for personal use. He had to be dealing. It was in the false-bottomed cleanser cans just like Janet said.

You can’t do things like this, Miranda. There’ll be other people involved who might’ve had a stake in it. They’d kill you for much less, and it makes things more dangerous at St. James’ Place for everyone.

Should I have given him his drugs and said, ‘Now be a good boy and don’t bother Janet anymore please.’ I kept my windows up and I had Little Pearl lying on the seat beside me, and I made sure he knew what I would aim for first. It would have been safer to have the police come out and bust him for possession, but that was my apartment, remember? It’s just a matter of time before they get him anyway. He’ll be too busy trying to lay in another store to try to get even with me.

I’m not scolding, Miranda. When it came time to choose between waiting to get him busted and saving Janet, you made the right choice. And like you said, it’s just a matter of time before the police or DEA catch up with him. They probably know more about him than they let on.

They’d have to know more than they let on. Miranda laughed.

CHAPTER THREE

Miranda picked up the developed film from Chuck, her photographer friend. Upon returning to the van, she showed Katherine the photos of Jerry English and his girlfriend before placing them in a mailer envelope with the report she had compiled.

Her sitting on his lap was a nice touch, don’t you think? Miranda said, smiling. I hope they don’t show him this picture when they arrest him. He’ll never connect the prize-winning event with being found otherwise.

Renee Reynolds, what a stagy name. Oh, I called CPS this morning and they’re going to send someone out to check on the baby, Katherine told her.

Thanks.

We’ve done everything but handcuff him and bring him to them. I wonder what he’s done.

Probably a little of everything that’s illegal.

I assume you want to drop this off at the downtown station.

Yeah, the sooner the better. Hopefully he hasn’t had time to think and will be home when the police call. Drop me off out front and circle the block. I’ll leave this with the desk officer and catch you at the southeast corner. If I’m not there circle again. No use advertising my identity, knowing how they hate interference from amateur sleuths.

Hey, we’re not amateurs.

Yeah. That’s another thing I don’t won’t them to know.

Katherine stopped at the red light in front of the police station. As Miranda climbed out of the van she felt someone watching her and glanced at the passenger of the car behind them. Seeing the plain gray car, she turned away and quickened her pace.

Sergeant Jonathan Dean, a homicide detective, admired Miranda’s legs first as she climbed out of the van and her topaz eyes next as she glanced behind her before stepping onto the sidewalk. God, I’m desperate, he said to his partner, Sergeant Dennis O’Brien. She’s probably carrying bail money for her boyfriend.

Hey, watch it. She could be a cop’s wife, Dennis said. As the van moved forward he glanced to the right to see the object of Jon’s attention. That wasn’t lunch in that envelope. She wasn’t dressed like a secretary. No hose. Flat heels say she’s not lookin’. No courier service. So?

So do you want to know who she is or what? I made the tag.

You think I’m so desperate I started picking up women off the street?

Yes.

No thanks, pal.

Miranda climbed the steps, went straight to the front desk, and handed the envelope to the young officer. Will you see that Burglary gets this please? I don’t know which sector it belongs to. It’s just some information on a possible wanted person. It’s self-explanatory, she said as she opened the envelope to show it wasn’t a letter bomb. She waited for eye contact before delivering a pleasant, Thanks. She turned and was walking away before the officer had time to ask questions.

Miranda was waiting at the corner on Katherine’s first six-block loop. In the downtown area there was no such thing as around the block anymore. The one-way streets required you to drive four to six blocks for a circle.

Any problems? Katherine asked as Miranda climbed into the van.

I hope they don’t just throw it away.

I wouldn’t be surprised. They’ll probably think I’m just another kook or scorned woman. Oh well, whatever. We did our best. Now let’s go look at those stones. I’m anxious to get started on my new commissions.

The interior of Ransoms’ Jewelers was quiet and understated. Miranda sat at a table working intently at matching rainbow-colored pools of semiprecious gems to rough sketches that were spread before her. The drawings were of rings she was planning to have developed and made by Jim, the owner’s son. He made the detailed designs on his computer and faxed them to her to make sure he had every detail exactly the way she wanted them. Miranda selected shape, size, and color of the minerals. Finding matching stones in the numbers she needed was the hard part. Most of her first selections were left on the sketches as final choices. A few she immediately pulled with a firm, No, those aren’t the color I saw.

Miranda wore clothes to showcase her jewelry, unlike most women who bought jewelry as accessories. The matching rings of pink cabochon tourmalines set in gold flowers with carved leaves of pale-green peridot on the middle finger of each hand sparkled beneath the bright showcase lights as her hands searched the tiny piles of stones. She had begun her collection of matching or coordinating rings two years ago. These pink flowers with green leaves reflected the print of her summery dress.

After purchasing stones for the dozen designs she had brought with her, she ordered a seven-karat watermelon tourmaline for a client who wanted something none of her friends had, and tiny baguette-cut blue topaz, amethyst, and aquamarine for the shades of blue, purple, and aqua for the channel-band designs she was having made for herself. Katherine and Miranda were sitting with Jim having a cold drink when a middle-aged elegantly dressed woman came into the shop accompanied by a small foreign-looking lady.

Oh, Mrs. Collier, Jim called as he rose to greet her. Excuse me, girls, he directed to Miranda and Katherine. How may I help you today?

Jim seated the lady and her companion at a table next to Miranda and Katherine. Mrs. Collier opened her handbag and withdrew an antique brocade ring box, which she opened to reveal a large round-cut ruby encircled by diamonds set in platinum.

I’m afraid I dropped my ring on the marble floor of my bath. Would you please check it to see if any of the stones are loose and make sure my red sapphire isn’t cracked or chipped, Mr. Ransom?

At the mention of red sapphire, a misnomer, Miranda’s attention was captured. Red sapphire? Who called a pigeon’s-blood ruby a red sapphire? Miranda shook her head at Katherine’s head-gestured motion toward the door that asked if she was ready to leave. Miranda studied the two women. She listened without appearing to do so and analyzed their clothes, mannerisms, accents, and facial characteristics. Miranda’s curiosity was the reason Katherine preferred to drive. Miranda would take them miles out of their way to tail a suspicious person. Luckily she could concentrate on her driving when necessary because she often drove women and children to safehouses in the middle of the night.

While working for Tom Scott, Katherine’s husband, who had become a PI after retiring from the police force, Miranda had taken a chauffeur’s defensive driving course. She was married to Mike Turner then and had hoped to get her private investigator’s license, but changed her mind after Tom died of a heart attack and her marriage to Mike fell apart. Miranda and Katherine had wanted to right some of the wrongs in the world and the idea of the women’s shelter came about from a case. Katherine had