The bag of gem stones

A dog is the star in a mystery.

THE BAG OF GEM STONES

 

The sea was quite brisk that morning in spring when Morton took his grey and white husky, Shadow, for a run on the beach. The dog was happily running in and out of the sea and enjoying himself, after a long hard winter and going for limited walks. Morton was a man who was at that time going on for sixty, and apart from Shadow he was alone at home. He had children, but they had gone long ago, and his wife too, with a man she had met on an all-inclusive holiday she had been determined to go on. Morton was quite happy with his lot in life. He ran his own jewellery shop and his daughter, Lesley, worked with him. They got on well together, and Shadow spent the weekdays and Saturday mornings loafing around in the shop. Morton was a creative man, and loved designing anything that later he sold in his shop. Apart from Lesley, he also employed Connie, as a shop assistant. Whenever he wanted to take Shadow for a walk he felt assured the shop was in good hands.

 

Shadow was barking madly, and Morton ran up to where his beloved dog was standing in the spot where the sea was just touching the sand. Morton asked Shadow, “What’s all the scandal for?”

Shadow stared down at the sand, and it was then Morton saw the little bundle almost covered by the sand and water. He moved the bundle, and realized it was a small drawstring bag made of chamois leather. Morton put it in his pocket and the two, master and dog, made their way home. Morton was rather surprised by the reaction Shadow had experienced on seeing the small bag. Shadow was given a bowl of water and Morton made himself a mug of coffee, then he sat at the dining table. By that time, Shadow was lying down on his bed falling asleep. Morton took the bundle out of his pocket and examined it. The contents were, as far as he could make out, scruffy looking gem stones. He went into the kitchen and washed them carefully, making sure none of them got lost down the drain. Morton had a room that was a mixture of office and business centre in his home, away from the shop. From out of an antique cupboard he removed scales and a magnifying glass, in order to examine the stones as best he could.

Morton had a suspicion of the origin of the stones, and took it upon himself to find out whether they had been stolen, or had been lost by the owner. In his personal computer, Morton had programmes relating to the world of jewellers, and what they were selling and buying. There were also articles on burglaries and thefts that were carried out by employees, but were difficult to prove.

Morton scrolled through all the names and e-mail addresses he had, without coming up with anything of interest to him and the stones. He examined them under the magnifying glass and then began polishing them. They were uncut, so what were they for? One by one, the brilliance of their colours shone like fires on his desk. There were diamonds, topazes, amethysts, emeralds sapphires, rubies, and an opal. As he wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere, Morton began playing with the first letters of the gem stones’ names. When lunchtime came he was no nearer to solving the ‘gem stones mystery’, as he had called the finding of the drawstring bag.

Before making his lunch, he rang his daughter, Lesley, at the shop. She answered on the third ring, “Hello, Dad, are you all right?”

“Yes, I am. Actually, I want to know about any jewel robberies or burglaries that have recently taken place. Do you know of any?”

“I haven’t heard of any, and there haven’t been any reported in the papers, and none of our associates have said anything about any untoward incident. Why are you asking?”

“If you pop round when you finish work, I have something I’d like you to see.”

“All right. I’ll come round at the time you suggest. See you later, bye.”

“Bye, Lesley, and don’t tell anyone I rang you, please.”

“I like the air of secrecy. It’s time we had a mystery, don’t you think?”

“If you say so.”

Father and daughter finished their conversation, and went back to what they had been doing before.

Lesley arrived at her father’s house at six o’clock, after bolting the shop door behind her and pulling the metal blind down and locking it to the ground. She drove to her fathers’ house and drew up on the short driveway. Lesley was twenty-eight, and lived in a small flat that at times she shared with a partner, until she got fed up with them. At the time of the finding of the gem stones, she was living alone, and therefore didn’t need to give explanations to anyone about where she’d been or who she had been with. She opened the door with the key her father had asked her to keep, just in case he fell ill and needed to call for her help.

“Come in, and take a look at these,” Morton said, as he urged Lesley into his private room and pointed out the gems on his desk.

Lesley walked to the desk and stared down at the gems. “Where did you get this lot from?”

“Shadow found them down on the beach at the shore edge. They were inside this bag, that’s why I rang you, to see what you know about any jewel thefts. I really can’t imagine how they got onto the beach.”

Lesley spent some minutes just taking in several facts about the gems. The most important for her, was that they weren’t cut. The questions to ask: what were they doing on the beach and how had they got there?

“Dad, I think the gems might have fallen off a boat or out of someone’s pocket. Another thing, nobody goes around with uncut stones on him, unless he’s going to get them cut or sell them. They might have been stolen, have you thought of that?”

Morton hadn’t stopped thinking since he had opened the drawstring bag and seen the contents. He wasn’t happy about having the stones on his property. “I think we should take them to the police station as soon as possible.”

“Very well. I’ll come with you,” Lesley said.

Morton put the stones into the little bag he’d found them in, and calling Shadow, the three left the house. Morton didn’t know why, but he felt he ought not to have taken the bag of stones home with him. The police station was reached in minutes, and they all went inside. The sergeant behind the desk saw Shadow and bent over and stroked him, saying, “Good evening. You’ve got a good dog there. What can I do for you?”

Morton told the sergeant the whole story, and Shadow’s part in it. He also mentioned how he had tried to clean the stones. When he had finished, the sergeant took the bag with its contents and placed them in an evidence tray. “I’ll take this, Sir, and if there’s a reward for its having been found, we’ll get in touch with you.”

Morton said he thought it was all right, and Lesley and Shadow left with him. They walked out into the cold spring air with a happy Shadow, who was not usually out so late. “I’m not sure I trust that young man. What do you think?”

“Dad, he’s a policeman, and he’ll have to be honest. Anyway, he gave you a receipt, didn’t he? So, don’t you worry about not getting a reward - if there is one.”

 

In spite of having a jewellery business to run, Morton had a deep interest in the contents of the little bag Shadow had encountered on the beach. He had written down the names of the different stones. He then discovered that the first letters of the stones could refer to ‘terms of endearment’. The nineteenth century saw a rise in the use of gem stones to make an item for a loved one. The stones were usually made into rings of a simple design set in gold. Morton played with their initial letters, and made out the following names of old-fashioned jewellery: d-e-a-r-e-s-t, r-e-g-a-r-d-s, a-d-o-r-e. There were various problems with that: first of all, the stones were uncut; and where had they come from; and who did they belong to? Morton rang Lesley and told her what he had discovered with the initials of the stones. Lesley was at an auction of antique jewellery, and told her father not to get too excited.

In the meantime, the local police were making a detailed effort to try and discover more about the gems, and the bag they had been found in. The cloth was sent to be examined by forensics who dealt with such matters. It was found to be of chamois leather, which could only be found in certain areas. The police began looking on the internet for any information.

 

Morton asked Connie, who was always in the know about fashionable goods, where he could find a chamois leather bag. Connie’s reply, when it came, was rapid, “On Saturdays, in the market, there are stalls that sell mediaeval style goods. I’ve seen some chamois pouches there. If you want to get one, why don’t you go to the market next Saturday?”

“I wonder if the police know about the stall in the market,” Morton mused, more to himself than to Connie.

The police had come to the same conclusion as Morton that the pouch, might be found locally.

 

Next Saturday morning was wet and miserable. However, the weather didn’t deter in any way Morton and Shadow from setting out to visit the market. Detective Graham Griffiths, who’d been put in charge of the case, was to be found at the market too. Both the jeweller and the detective were looking for a stall that made its own chamois goods. There was a lot of pushing and shoving, even though the ground underneath everyone’s feet was muddy and slippery. The stall they were looking for was called, “Mediaeval Arts, Leather Craftsmanship.”

Morton and a rain-soaked Shadow, saw the lettering above the plastic awning that helped the owner and the goods to keep dry. There were two people standing behind the stall, a woman with pink-streaked hair, and a man who wore a small pillbox hat on his head.

“Good morning. Have you got any chamois leather drawstring pouches?” Morton asked.

“We’re out of them at the moment, but we should get some in soon.”

“Do you know where I might be able to buy one?”

“No, sorry. But there are other markets and shops that sell them.”

“Well, that’s very kind of you. Bye.” Morton and Shadow moved off.

The stall holder went on his mobile, “I think the man you’re looking for has just been in here. He’s got a lovely husky.”

Detective Griffiths then approached the stall and glanced at the chamois products on sale. He wasn’t sure about the stall having sold the pouch, because he was only slightly suspicious. He saw Morton and Shadow walking back to the car park. He decided to follow them, as there seemed little hope in getting information that morning.

 

That evening, Lesley and Connie went out for a drink in a nearby pub. The evening was as horrid as the rest of the day had been, but they refused to let it get them down. They sat at a table and let their eyes pass over a varied selection of the general public. “If we don’t strike it lucky in here, we should do all right in another pub,” Lesley said.

“That’s what we always end up doing, every Saturday evening. I sometimes get to thinking we’re wasting our time. After all, what are we hoping to find?” Connie responded.

“Hey, wait a minute, there are two ‘things’ walking towards us. You never know, they might just be all right. Well, at least for five minutes,” Lesley told Connie.

“Hello, Ladies, I’m Colin and he’s Guy,” the one called Colin said, pointing to the man at his side. They were both around thirty-five and not badly dressed, but none of it fooled Connie or Lesley, who both had bad histories with men. They had been burnt too often.

“Would you like to dance?” Colin asked them.

“Not tonight, thanks, we’re just leaving,” Connie said, standing up.

In the street, Lesley turned to Connie and said, “What was wrong with them?”

“I had the feeling they were not there just by chance, that they had picked on us by design.”

“So, what do we do now, the evening’s still young?” Lesley asked.

“We could go to the cinema, or we can go home and see a DVD. It’s too wet to stay out late, even though tomorrow is Sunday.”

They got into Connie’s car and carefully drove off. They were unaware of the car following them, containing the two men they had met in the bar. Lesley got out at her address and went indoors. One of the men took down Lesley’s address. They left Connie out of it, and drove off to another pub. Connie went home and watched a DVD.

 

Sunday was a washout too, and Morton and Shadow limited their morning constitutional to a walk to the nearest park, where they got wet feet and paws. They had lunch in the dining-room and then both had a nap. Lesley spent the day on her mobile, and cleaning up her home. Connie did the same.

 

Monday brought finer weather, but still with cloudy skies. At eleven o’clock, the two men from Saturday night entered the shop. They had followed Lesley from her home. Shadow was lying down behind the counter and out of sight of the men. Shadow started barking as loud as he could, and appeared from behind the counter. The two men tried to escape, but Morton asked them what they wanted. They blustered their way out of it, saying, “We’ve come to the wrong shop, sorry,” and they shot off.

“Why did Shadow bark like that?” Connie asked.

Morton replied, “That’s what he does when he recognises the scent of a person, and he must have associated them with something. I bet it’s that pouch with the gems he found on the beach,” Morton declared.

Morton rang the police, to let them know that Shadow had recognized their scent.

 

The two strange men were driving away from the shop. They were talking, “Colin, that husky knows who we are, and that’s got me worried,” Guy commented to his collaborator.

“Don’t worry about the dog, getting the gems back is more important. What d’you say to entering the old man’s shop when they’re out?” Colin suggested.

“Fine by me,” Guy said cheering up.

The two frustrated gangsters, were still in ignorance about the location of the gems. They only knew one thing - that they had to retrieve the gems as best they could.

 

The police made enquiries with reference to the gems, and received no reaction whatsoever. An expert, who was called in to carry out an in-depth examination of them, said, “They’re genuine all right, but not of any real value because they all have flaws, which means they wouldn’t fetch much on the open market. I doubt whether a jeweller would be interested in using them.”

Griffiths and the commander were in the latter’s office. “Well, what shall we do with the stones that don’t seem to have an owner?” the commander commented to Griffiths.

“Why not let Morton have them. When you think about it, his dog Shadow found them, and we haven’t found anything else to do with them.”

The commander sat and thought for a minute, and said, “There’s some truth in what you say. The only intriguing thing about this case is, we never found out where the pouch was from.”

“I’ve often had the idea that the pouch and the gems were related somehow.”

“You mean the pouch makers were dealing in stolen gems or falsifying them.”

“Yes, Sir, but the expert said they were genuine but not of a great value.”

“What he meant was, that they would sell at a reasonable price, making them accessible to the man in the street. I don’t see anything wrong with that. Who’s going to look at anything high priced nowadays? I think we should let Morton have the gems. They’re not doing anything while they’re in the safe here.”

“Yes, Sir, and as we don’t know their origin, we might as well concentrate on the pouch. What do you think?”

“That’s a good idea, get a couple of plain-clothes down in the market, with the order to keep an eye on the mediaeval part, where the pouches are sold. All right, now we can get on with more urgent business,” the commander finished the talk with the detective.

 

Lesley was visited by Griffiths, who carried the bag of gems on him. “Hello, is your father here?”

“Yes, he’s in the workshop at the back,” and to Connie, “Connie, could you get my father please?”

Connie stopped polishing a piece of jewellery, and replaced it in a safety cabinet, and then went to get Morton, who was in his workshop with Shadow, who was keeping an eye on everything.

“Morton, Detective Griffiths is here to see you.”

Morton left off work and entered the shop. “Good morning, how can I help you?”

Griffiths told him of the decision the commander had made regarding the gems. Morton was very happy, and as Griffiths was handing over the stones, Shadow began growling and barking. Standing outside the shop were two men wearing black masks and carrying heavy bars in their hands, ready to break the door down, and take anything the shop had that was of any value. Griffiths’ driver rang the station for back up, and in a few minutes before the delinquents had managed to break into the shop, the sound of police sirens was heard. Shadow was getting angrier and angrier, and those inside the shop watched as the men’s masks were pulled off, and they saw the same men who had gone into the shop a few days before. When Morton opened the door to thank the police, Shadow launched himself at the two men, and bit one of them on the leg. Everyone laughed at that, except the one bitten.

 

After a long and lengthy interview, they both declared that the pouch was used to carry anything clandestine from one country to another. Neither of them knew where the gems had come from, only that they had to pick them up from the beach. They had been told a small boat would drop the pouches off. Detective Griffiths asked them, “Are you telling us there were more pouches? That this one wasn’t the only one?”

“We were told that a small boat would be bringing a load of pouches carrying different goods.”

 

The police raided the mediaeval market stalls that made chamois leather pouches all over the county. They came to the conclusion that the pouches were being sold to anyone who wanted to smuggle small objects, such as gems, into the country. A few arrests were made, but nothing of great importance was discovered.

 

Morton made the rings after the stones had been cut and polished. He made different settings for the different messages, and they sold very well. He had them displayed in the centre of his large shop window, which attracted the attention of the general public that passed by.

 

Shadow was treated with great respect, and anyone who entered the shop, stopped to pat him.

 

Detective Griffiths was one of the assiduous passers-by, but his interest was in getting to know Lesley!