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“But we found them, right?”
“Let’s talk to the owners, and I’ll explain the situation.”
“Okay.”
I heard the sound of a door, and then Yolanda said, “They have all been located,” before it went to speaker mode and a jumble of people all talking over one another came over the line. “I have someone who’d like to explain,” she said over the group.
“You’re on speaker, Adam,” she said.
“And who is this?” a gruff male voice asked.
“FBI,” I said. The room quieted.
“I want my necklace back. I should never have agreed to this,” Mr. Gruff said.
“What happened to them?” a scratchy woman’s voice asked. She was followed by a few more similar questions, everyone speaking over each other.
I waited a few seconds for the ruckus to die down. “If you will all be quiet for a moment, I’ll explain the situation.”
“I want my necklace,” Mr. Gruff repeated.
“And your name is?” I asked.
“Sparks. Jeffrey Sparks. And what is your name, young man?”
I ignored the question about my name, and the implication that I was too young to be taken seriously. “Mr. Sparks, this will go much faster if you let me explain the situation first.” If I’d been physically in the room with him, I would have throttled the guy. Well, probably not, but I would have given him a threatening look to shut him up.
“You can’t talk to me like that,” Mr. Gruff shot back. “And you didn’t tell us your name.”
“I’m the one with the authority to determine when your property is released to you.” A few mumbles came across the line, but thankfully nothing from Mr. Gruff. “And whether that happens soon, or in a few years.”
Mr. Gruff rose to the bait, as I’d expected. “You can’t do that.”
This is where it got tricky. “Your belongings are evidence in an ongoing kidnapping and murder investigation.” That much would have been true if I’d logged the items as evidence already.
Miss Scratchy Voice was the one to speak up. “That doesn’t have anything to do with us.”
“The way the legal system works in this country, the defense has a right to examine the evidence ahead of the trial, which means we can’t release your items until they have had a chance to do so.”
Mumbled concerns were all that came from them after that.
“If you would like to get them back earlier, I do have an alternative.”
“What’s that?” Yolanda asked before Mr. Gruff could get involved.
“To catch the culprit, I need replicas of the jewelry.”
“What difference will that make?” Miss Scratchy Voice asked.
“And I need them tomorrow—all of them—for a ransom drop where we expect to catch the kidnapper. Then your jewelry will no longer be needed as evidence.” I’d voiced more of a hope than a fact.
The other room erupted with multiple voices saying, “That can’t be done,” and “That’s impossible,” and a single “Why?”
“You must have contacts at the studios. Jewelers? Other collectors? Either I get them tomorrow for this exchange and we catch the killer with your help, or our hunt goes on for another year or more, and we’ll need to hold on to your items.”
Their arguments came through the phone, but I ignored them again. “Your choice. Replicas tomorrow, or wait a few years. And one more thing. Nobody can discuss this outside of this group. No wives, no husbands, nobody. If it leaks, it could endanger people on this end, and I will put the full weight of the FBI behind punishing the culprit.”
The room on the other end went quiet, a good sign.
