Page 32 of Family Jewels

“But someone must want to pay him for it. Why else would he have hired us? He’s already put down a five-hundred-dollar deposit. He can’t be looking for that necklace just because it’s a family heirloom. Raddy Dyer doesn’t seem the sentimental type.”

“No. He’s not,” she scowled.

“Do you think he’s up to something?” I asked. “Is his momma involved? Rayna said she showed up asking for the jewelry.”

She shot me a glance. “Maybe we can find out when we pay Mable Dyer a visit.”

“You know where she lives?”

She groaned. “Please . . .”

It had been something of a crazy question—when it came to Fenton County, Neely Kate knew everything and then some. “Do you think we should talk to Rayna again?” I asked. “We paid one hundred and twenty-five dollars for the brooch. How much do you think she sold it to him for?”

She shrugged. “Ten? Twenty? It couldn’t have been much if she was convinced it was cut glass.”

I gave her a dubious look. “Could you really tell they were rubies? Or were you just goin’ along?”

“I’m pretty sure they’re real.” She paused. “I think Mable Dyer should be our next stop.”

Chapter 8

Mable’s housewas off County Road 110, not too far from the Sinclair station. The house was tucked in the woods, about a quarter mile off the county road. Based on the few pieces of stone in the path, the lane was supposed to be covered in gravel, but most had either been washed away or flung into the encroaching woods. I was glad my truck was four-wheel drive, but Neely Kate didn’t seem to have any trouble navigating the bumpy drive. As soon as the ramshackle house came into view, a dog released a tirade of vicious barks.

“No sneaking up on ’em, huh?” I asked.

“Mable’s husband is one of those off-the-grid kind of guys.”

“What exactly does that mean?” We were known to have an off-the-grid militia hiding in the wooded hills, but as far as I knew, none of them ventured this close to town.

“He’s just a wannabe. No electricity. No gas. They have a wood stove.”

A woman appeared on the front porch with a shotgun pointed toward the sky.

“And ready to shoot intruders?” I asked.

“Apparently. Let me handle this,” she said as she reached for the door handle.

“Be careful, Neely Kate,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket. I drew up Joe’s number, ready to call him as backup if necessary.

Neely Kate opened the door and leaned her head in the opening between the door and the truck. “Mable? It’s Neely Kate Rivers, Minnie Sue Rivers’ granddaughter. I’m here because of Raddy.”

“What’s that boy up to now?” Mable shouted, lowering her gun but still looking on guard.

“Nothing. Me and my friend Rose just want to ask you a few questions for him. Will you talk to us?”

“You’re really Neely Kate?” the woman asked, squinting. “Last time I saw you, you were sportin’ pigtails and overalls that made you look like you were ready to wade in high water.”

I had a hard time picturing Neely Kate in overalls. I’d have to ask for photographic evidence later. Knowing her, she’d found a way to glam them up.

“I’m all grown up, Miss Mable,” Neely Kate said cheerfully.

“Well, I guess you is.” Mable turned sideways. “If you wanna come in, I ain’t gonna stop you.”

She disappeared into the house, which looked like it had once been white. Judging from the sporadic patches of paint, it might have been when lead paint was still in vogue.

“Do you think this is a good idea?” I asked.

Neely Kate made a face. “Mable Dyer’s harmless.” She left the keys in the ignition and got out of the truck before adding, “It’s her husband Homer we need to worry about.” Then she shut the door.

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