Free Alex Ames - Calendar Moonstone 01 - A Brilliant Plan by Alex Ames

usual on Mr. Altward’s desk, the assistant burning midnight oil, false alarms, lights flickering at night, anything?”
    “I don’t know what exactly you want to hear. I mean there was always something going on. My dad always brought home some tidbits about new artwork, photos lying around or pinned on the walls. He was very much interested in art; I got the bug from him.”
    “These are your paintings?” I asked.
    She nodded, seemed glad to leave the subject of her dead father. “Some of my early works. I am in a more figurative phase right now; most of the new works are in my loft downtown.” Classy, two places in La Jolla, apartment and loft in S.D.
    “You have representation?”
    She gave a sad smile. “I had for a while, but it had to close down. The art business is not so good. I am negotiating with two galleries now. You like the works?” She turned around and spread out an arm toward the paintings behind her. The turn offered a better look at the golden necklace she wore, a small piece of stunning beauty.  
    “Yeah, I do,” I lied, conjuring the first most abstract painters from the back of my memory. “I like Gottlieb, Rothko and the lot. I am an artist myself, doing jewelry.”
    We chatted for a few minutes about the superficial aspects of our creative jobs, Ron patiently sitting there.
    Phoebe eventually glanced at him and then at me again and said, “Excuse me, Detective, we got carried away here.”
    Ron smiled. “No problem, Miss Eastman. It took your mind off your father for a moment. Miss Moonstone is hired especially for the case to support me in the artistic aspects of the theft.”
    “Oh yes, something was stolen, too.” Phoebe remembered, looking at me.
    “An eighteenth century set of jewelry by a craftsman called Patrice Montenhaute,” I explained.
    “Never heard of her.” Phoebe shrugged.
    “Don’t worry about it, only the jewelry collectors’ scene knows and values him.”
    “Can I do anything more for the lady and gentleman of the police?” Phoebe asked.
    Ron stood up, I followed suit. “If you have any questions or remember anything, please call me or my partner Juanita Garcia anytime. You met her yesterday, you have our cards.”
    We somberly shook hands and left Phoebe Eastman in her Thanksgiving misery.

    “Can I buy you lunch?” Ron asked. “Least I can do for a highly valued consultant.”
    “By the way, don’t you have funds for this?”
    “Lunch?”
    “No, consulting.”
    “Well, now that you ask, we may.” Ron scratched his sexy chin in embarrassment and put on a boyish charm face. Cute.
    “Bring the paperwork if you want any more qualified answers.”
    “And I thought I could save a little budget here.” Ron sighed. “But I had already wondered when you would ask.”
    “Really?”
    “Would have been suspicious if you hadn’t.”
    “Really?”
    “Really! Do you know the Crab Shack at La Jolla Cove?”
    “I think I got my first real kiss on that parking lot, ages ago.” I remembered with dread.  
    “Today’s offer would include a portion of fries and unlimited Coke.”
    “That’s exactly what I wished for after that kiss.”

    The Crab Shack may have had crab dishes way back when there were still crabs to be found in the waters of South California, but nowadays, it specializes in everything but crab. It also serves some legendary cheeseburgers that only the stray tourist would order accidentally, but only once.
    Ron and I parked the car, went over to the shack and ordered the fried fish of the day with fries, mushrooms and Coke. After we were served, we settled at one of the wooden camping table-seat combos planted unceremoniously on the parking lot tarmac and enjoyed the vista of a silver Pacific Ocean in the low midday sun. And the food.
    “So, what do you think about Miss Phoebe Eastman?” Ron dipped a piece of fish into the sauce.
    “Did you notice her necklace?” I asked.
    “What necklace?”
    “See, that’s why you hired me. The