Monkey business

Detectives are called to investigate a stolen diamond ring—will they be able to bring the thief to justice?

Ipassed the message slip to my partner and watched Fred’s expression change from boredom to shock.

“Mount Airy Heights. I’ve never gone past the gates, Kelly. I hope that bit of emerald you wear on your lapel brings us good luck.”

Q. Why did the baseball coach go to the bakery? A. He needed a batter!

“Now is your chance to fi nd out, Fred.” Our lieutenant shoved a fi stful of case notes at me. “The victim is the chief’s mother-in-law, and she’s livid.”

Fred read the notes aloud as we drove. By the time we reached the wealthy community, we knew that Mrs. Annalee Thompson’s fivecarat diamond cocktail ring was missing, and it was somehow the department’s fault.

I touched my emerald for courage and tried not to gape as I pressed the decorative doorbell. Mrs. Thompson flung the door open. A red flush stained her neck. I expected steam to shoot from her ears. “It’s about time! If you had been doing your job, I wouldn’t have been violated.”

I surreptitiously glanced at the case notes as we trailed behind her. A half hour had elapsed from call to arrival. Chaos greeted us in her library. A safe over a desk gaped open. Papers and the contents of desk drawers littered the floor.

“This is how you found it?” I asked.

She turned her blueeyed stare on me. “No, detective. I searched fi rst. I didn’t want to waste your time.”

Fred stifled a chuckle behind me. I dreaded telling Mrs. Thompson we’d need her fi ngerprints, too. My breath caught as a curtain moved.

“Is anyone else in the house?”

“Certainly not. This is my home, not a boarding house.”

Isidled toward the waving curtain, jerked it aside and saw nothing. The window behind the curtain had no screen and was open about two inches. I turned my head to ask Mrs. Thompson about the window when a look of horror mixed with amusement spread across Fred’s face. Something jumped on my shoulder and raced over my chest. A tiny capuchin monkey grabbed my lapel and pushed his face to mine. The contempt in Mrs. Thompson’s expression was breathtaking. Looking more like a ship underway than a woman, she marched to my side. The monkey jumped into her arms and buried its head in her neck. “Did the silly lady scare you?” she cooed.

Feeling foolish, I asked, “Was this window open last night?”

“Of course, Maggie needs fresh air.” She pointed to a large floor cage behind a folding screen. The monkey ran into her enclosure and jumped into a luxurious sequined hammock.

Shaken, I struggled to take back control of the investigation.

“Do you have photos of the missing ring? When did you see it last?” While I spoke, I gestured for Fred to go outside and check near the window.

Mrs. Thompson walked to the desk and picked up a photo album, fl ipping through it.

“Here,” she pointed. “This is it. It’s insured of course, but it was the last gift from my husband.” Her eyes misted. “It means more to me than its value.”

The ring’s sparkle seemed undiminished by the matte fi nish of the photo. I glanced from the picture to the window. Fred shook his head, and I signaled for him to come back in. I put a fi nger up to fidget with my lapel pin. My hand came away empty.

Aslight gleam caught my eye from inside the lining of Maggie’s hammock. I unhooked the sling, carried it to the desk and tipped it. The cocktail ring, two sets of earrings and my lapel pin poured out. I couldn’t help but laugh. I turned to Mrs. Thompson. “Looks like we found your thief.”