Page 66 of Gem Warfare

“What happens if that’s a dead end too?”

“Then I’ll have to stop searching in the past and see what I can do about the future,” I said, thinking about something Maddox had said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means we need to lure out Ben Rafferty-slash-Gideon Black. Out of everybody that could have been in Charlie Black’s life, I figure Gideon has to know his father best.” However, as I said it, I wasn’t sure that was true. Gideon had been in boarding school for a large chunk of his childhood. Would a child really know what nefarious and illegal activities his father was potentially engaged in? Or did Gideon grow up thinking his father was the salesman he purported to be? The more I thought about it, the more I was certain Gideon knew the real story behind his father. The question was: did he know at the time of his father’s disappearance? Was it possible the jewels weren’t anything to do with Charlie’s death but a son angry at his father? I wished I knew.

Tilden Street was a tree-lined street of brownstone houses with steps leading from the sidewalk up to the front doors, giving them an imposing look.

We parked at the end of the block and walked back, finding our target to be neatly kept with a small magnolia tree in the front yard.

I knocked on the door and waited, Lily hovering behind me.

The man who answered was portly, balding, and holding an excessively fluffy dog with fur the color of gold. If he’d told me it was a lion cub, I would have believed him. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“We’re looking for a man who lived here around twenty years ago,” I said.

“You’re looking at him.” The man eyed me over and frowned.Then the dog did the same. His tongue flopped out and a dribble of drool hit the front stoop. The dog, not the man.

“You lived here twenty years ago?”

“I have. My wife and I bought this house thirty years ago.”

“Then perhaps you had a lodger named Joe Smithson?”

“No, we’ve never had a lodger. We would never have had space for one between the kids and the dogs, and that one time we had a goat.”

“A goat?” asked Lily.

“It lived in the backyard. A whimsy of my wife’s. Good for lawn mowing apparently, although our goat ate everything else. I recommend a lawn mower.”

“Good to know. So you never rented a room or sublet to anyone?”

“No. Like I said, we always had a house full. What’s this about?”

“I’m a private investigator,” I said, pulling out my license to pass to him. He held it between his thumb and forefinger and nodded. “I’m checking into the background details of someone who once listed your address as a previous address of theirs.” The dog stretched his muzzle towards me, took a long sniff, and then continued to stare at me. The man put the dog on the floor, then lifted the glasses resting on a chain around his neck and gazed at the card.

“A PI, eh? Well, that’s interesting. All I can tell you is we never had any tenants. Not now, and not twenty years ago.”

“Can I show you a photo?”

“Of course. I have nothing better to do,” he said dryly. The dog slumped to the floor and rested his jaw on the man’s slipper.

I pulled out my phone, swiping to the one good photo I had. The photo Charlie Black had in his pocket on his death.

The man took my phone in his hand and consulted it. A small furrow appeared on his forehead. “It’s been a long time but Iwould recognize him anywhere,” he said. “You say his name is Joe Smithson?”

“That’s the name he was using.”

“Yes. Joe. I remember him. He tried charming my wife.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, she knocked him back but it didn’t stop him trying. From what she said, I think he was scouting around for a well-off woman who would either house or help him. He wasn’t too impressed when he realized I was around but it didn’t stop him from keeping the sweet talk going. My wife always did like helping people.”

“Did she help Joe?”

“Only with little things. Treated him to lunch here and there, introduced him to people. I think he was new in town. It wouldn’t surprise me if he convinced her to give him a reference. What was it for again? A job?”

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