Thieves Like Us by Starr Ambrose Page B

into the deserted hall, she hurried to a locked room at the far end. Using the key she’d taken from the custodian’s desk, she slipped inside. The room housed a collection of unused furniture, accessories, and electronics, along with seven nondescript cardboard boxes containing the personal effects from Banner’s office.
    She’d seen what was in them. Heck, she even helped pack them. But she’d been married to him at the time and had had a right to handle his possessions, even if she’d done it in the presence of his attorney. Now she was his ex-wife and the future star witness in the government’s case against him. Getting caught searching through his personal belongings probably wouldn’t be a good thing.
    She was also breaking Rocky’s and Ben’s stern warnings to stay home. That part couldn’t be helped—she had a business to run and a crime to solve. If she got back to Elizabeth’s before six as planned, they’d never even know.
    That gave her an hour to go through the seven boxes again. When they’d packed them away she’d only made sure they didn’t contain personal items like photographs or credit cards. This time she was looking for receipts or jewelry boxes, anything that might be related to the Pellinni Jewels.
    She dragged a chair to the boxes, opened the first one, and dug in.
    Forty minutes later Janet sighed with frustration as she opened the last box. At least this one didn’t have any tedious stacks of paper or loose leaf binders. It also didn’t have any likely connections to the missing jewelry. One by one, she lifted out the knickknacks that had decorated Banner’s desk and shelves—a chunk of polished stone littered with trilobite fossils, a broken piece of Aztec pottery that probably belonged in a museum, a trophy won in a sailing race on Lake Michigan, and a half dozen other unsuspicious mementos.
    She pulled out the last object—a wooden humidor, inlaid with ivory. She’d seen it before, it was where Banner kept his cigars. This time it rattled when she picked it up. She held it on her lap and yanked at the tight lid. It opened with a pop, spilling the contents into her lap—eight golden golf balls.
    She picked one up. It was obviously gold plated; it felt too light to be solid. A tiny flat base allowed each ball to sit so that the black lettering across the top could be read: Westfield-Benton Charity Golf Classic. Souvenirs for the top players at the company-sponsored annual golf event.
    Disappointed, she gathered the balls and put them back in the box. One dropped from her lap and rolled across the cement floor. Janet muttered a curse as she retrieved it from beneath a desk, blowing off dust and cobwebs. She rubbed her finger along a dirty line, but it wouldn’t come off. Using her fingernail, she scraped it. Her nail caught in a groove.
    Hope fluttered in her chest as she wedged her thumb nails into the groove and pried. The ball fell open in two halves, revealing a hollow interior. No secret prize, no hidden jewelry. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting; it wasn’t big enough to hold one of the ornate Pellinni Jewels, anyway. It was just another cheaply made promotional gift.
    To remove any doubt, she opened each one. All empty.
    Disappointed, she packed them away with the other items. Closing the last box, Janet sighed. Whatever had happened to the rest of the Pellinni Jewels, Banner didn’t seem to be involved.
    She returned the key and headed to her rental car. The Westfield-Benton parking lot had emptied considerably, and only one other car pulled out when she did—a black Escalade that turned in the same direction. When she stopped for gas, it kept going.
    She filled her tank and got back on the road. She looked in her rearview mirror as she changed lanes and noticed a black Escalade a couple cars back. When she turned onto the I-75 entrance ramp, she watched the mirror again. The Escalade was still there.
    That didn’t mean it was following her, she told