Gemstone Butterfly

Then Peggy dialed the number of the police headquarters and asked for Detective Fred Nelson, who happened to be in. “This is Peggy Castle,” she said. “Oh, it’s you, hello,” his voice was warm and friendly, more than she had expected. “I have a lead on the Stella Lynn case.” “Yes, I know,” Nelson said, “you have many leads, you’ve caused quite a stir, haven’t you?” “Oh, what do you mean?” “Very dramatic,” he said, “the results were fantastic. The grief-stricken husband, nearly mad with sorrow, stumbled into the morgue, weeping, to claim Stella Lynn’s body, saying she was his wife. The press loved it! They called me right there in the morgue.” He paused, and Peggy remained silent. “Are you listening?” “Yes.” “Oh, why aren’t you talking?” “You’ve been talking non-stop. I called to tell you something. Let me know when you’re ready to listen.” He laughed, “Okay, I’m all ears now, but don’t think I was born yesterday. I’ve seen a thing or two.” “I have no doubt about that,” Peggy said, “As I was saying, I have a lead on the Stella Lynn case.” “What is it this time?” Peggy said, “Stella arranged to meet Don Kimberly at the Royal Pheasant nightclub because she wanted to inquire if it was possible to negotiate the return of the Garrison robbery jewels.” “What!” Nelson exclaimed. “Bill Everett, Stella’s former boyfriend, was involved in that robbery, and now he has a fortune in jewels he can’t fence. You know what happens in situations like that. He wanted to find out if he could make a deal with the insurance company.” “Who’s this guy that pulled off the heist?” “Bill Everett. He has a record; he was caught for robbing a gas station in Cofferville.” “Hmm, go on.” “I’ve made an appointment with him, he’s going to give me the truth. Hey, if you want to cooperate with me—” “I’m sorry, Miss Castle,” Nelson interrupted. “You’ve overstepped. Cooperating with you would only improve your company’s situation while leaving the police department with the blame. If you want to play with fire, find another cat’s paw.” “But don’t you want to recover—” “I just want to recover from some of these sneaky attacks,” Nelson said, “You didn’t know if Bushnell’s marriage to Stella Lynn was legal, yet you had it splashed across the front page of every newspaper, along with a photo of the heartbroken husband. I think I don’t like being someone’s cat’s paw. Where’s this Bill Everett?” “Find him yourself if you’re smart enough.” She was furious and slammed down the phone. She quickly drove onto Elmore Road, heading towards Adams Road, slowing down, and waiting. Sitting in the dark, she felt a profound sense of loneliness. The car cooled down, the engine ticking sharply. Five blocks behind her was a straight highway, and the sound of passing vehicles had become faint by the time it reached her ears. A man passed by but didn’t seem to notice the car; he was in a hurry, his heels tapping on the sidewalk as if he was rushing somewhere. Peggy waited another 5 minutes, then suddenly felt a shadow by the right rear fender, then the right door opened, and a man cautiously climbed in beside her, saying, “Okay, start the car.” Peggy asked, “Are you—” “I said, start the car,” the man told her, “Hurry the hell up.” Peggy started the engine, pulling away from the curb. The man beside her twisted around to peer out the back window, observing the street behind. “Turn right on Adams Road,” he said. Peggy turned right. “Left at the next intersection.” Peggy followed the instructions. “Hurry,” he told her, “Don’t dawdle. Speed up, turn right at the next intersection… left… okay.” Finally, the man settled back into a more comfortable position, no longer looking back, but now staring at Peggy. Peggy felt an obvious unease and a strange fear, what if things went wrong, what if… “It’s your turn to talk,” the man said, “Speak up.” Peggy knew she had to get him talking; so far, she had managed to bluff her way through with guesswork and bravado. Now she needed facts, and the man beside her was her only source. The man continued, “What’s the deal? First, tell me who you are. I’m Bill, who are you?” Peggy slid her hand into the opening of her blouse, took out the jeweled butterfly, waved it in front of him, then quickly tucked it back in. “Hey, wait,” he said, “Where the hell did you get that?” “Where do you think?” “Here, into this alley,” Bill said, “We need to talk.” She felt something poking her side, glanced down to see a gun. “Go there, turn into the alley.” His shoes pressed her feet against the brake pedal. She let out a small cry of pain, yanked her foot away, the car swerved, the gun pressed tightly against her ribs: “Turn into the alley.” She bit her lip, suppressing the pain in her foot, and turned into the alley. Bill leaned over, turning off the ignition. “Alright, honey,” he said, “If you try anything funny, your fate—” Suddenly, the car was illuminated; another car, with its lights off, had been following them and now suddenly turned its headlights onto the parked car. Bill quickly stuffed the gun back into his clothes. “If that’s a police car,” he warned, “if you make any noise, I swear I’ll kill you—” A figure jumped out from the car behind, striding over. A man with a sarcastic tone said, “Oh, Bill, trying to cut a slice of the cake for yourself, are you?” Hearing this voice, Peggy saw Bill’s face contort with fear. He squirmed in his seat. “Butcher!
He called out, then after a while continued, “I’m glad to see you here! I caught a woman who tried to play tricks on us.” “Well, you seem quite pleased to see us,” Butcher said. Another man appeared on the other side of the car, standing by the open window on Peggy’s side. He was very tall, gaunt, with thin lips that made his mouth look like a cut made by a razor blade on his face.