The Ending of Chapter 5 

Twenty minutes later, a man's shadow appeared on the frosted glass. Lance held his breath as someone jiggled the door handle. Goosebumps spread up his arms. Trembling, he swept the box's contents off the desk into the top drawer, praying it was Bennie outside. Looking around, he grabbed his letter opener as protection.  

"Lance, you in there?" Bennie tried the doorknob again and pounded on the door, yelling, "Why the heck is your door locked?" 

Lance leaped from his chair, dropping his weapon, and flew across the room. His trembling hands fumbled with the lock. When it clicked, Lance opened the door, grabbed Bennie's shirt, and yanked him inside.  

Lance's actions stunned Bennie. "Have you gone mad?" He removed Lance's fingers from his shirt and gave him a shove. "Why would I be followed, and what's with the locked door?"  

A tongue-tied Lance stepped aside, and Bennie spied the bottle of bourbon and empty glass on the desk. "Kind of early for that stuff, isn't it?" He studied his cousin's troubled face and changed his tone. "Maybe you better pour both of us a glass and tell me what's got you tied in knots." 

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CHAPTER 6 

"Drink first, and then we'll talk." Lance rummaged through the drawer for another glass. He wiped the inside of one with the bottom of his shirt and then filled it and his with bourbon, collapsing into his office chair. "I'm glad you're here." 

"Me too! Sorry, I yelled at you on the phone. I should have recognized how stressed you were." 

"You're here now, and that's what matters." Lance raised his glass toward Bennie. "To family." 

"To family." Bennie sipped his drink, scrutinizing his cousin. Finally, he leaned across the desk and asked, "Now, you want to tell me what's got your gut so twisted? It sounds mighty important." 

Lance poured another glass of bourbon but left it sitting on the desk. He walked to the window and stared down the street. Then, with his back to his cousin, he spoke, "Remember that client I told you about, the one with deep pockets and what appeared to be a small request?" 

"Yeah, Black or something?" 

"Blackwell." Lance sighed. "Mr. Rupert Blackwell died." 

"Didn't he want you to empty a safe deposit box when he died?" Bennie smiled. "Sorry for the old man, but that means a good payday, right? You should be celebrating." 

"I got the call from the bank yesterday. They informed me Blackwell passed a few days ago, and it was time for me to go to the bank, which I did early this morning." 

"Well, that sounds great. Is that what this is all about?" Bennie gave his cousin a quizzical look. "I don't understand, Lance. What are you leaving out?" 

Lance shuffled back to his desk and drank a long slug of bourbon from his glass before reaching inside the desk drawer to recover its contents. Loose jewels and jewelry spilled from his hands onto the desk. The sparkle was blinding. 

Bennie's eyes flew open, and he jumped to his feet, sending his chair sprawling across the floor. Lance continued to toss items on the desk. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" 

Bennie picked up a few pieces of jewelry. "This — this is what you found in the box?" He rolled some loose jewels around in his hand. "Wasn't the man's house crumbling into pieces?" Shaking his head in disbelief, he gulped and looked straight at his cousin. "Man, did you have any idea? How? What? Oh, man!" 

Bennie paced in front of the desk. "What are you supposed to do with them?" 

"I don't really know." Lance put his hand inside the desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. "I'm guessing my instructions are in here." He tapped it against his desk. "It was with the jewelry." 

"Open it, man. Maybe Blackwell says where all this came from or what happens next." Bennie snatched the envelope from his cousin's hands. "Give it to me." 

"Wait!" Lance yelled at Bennie. "There's something more you should know."  

"More? What could be worse than all this?" 

Lance reached into the drawer and pulled out a black velvet bag. He untied the string and dumped the bag's contents in the middle of the desk. There, in all its magnificent splendor, lay the missing diamond necklace Frank O'Hara had planned to buy his wife on the day of the famous jewel heist. 

"Oh, my God." Bennie slumped into his chair. "Tell me it isn't —" 

"The one O'Hara was buying his wife? The root of Boston's bloodiest gang war? I'm pretty sure it is." 

"We've got to get rid of it fast." Bennie jumped from his chair and paced the room. "If anyone learns about this —." 

"Yeah, I know. We're dead men."   

Bennie came back to the desk. He picked up the envelope and ripped it open. "I don't know how this guy got his hands on this stuff, but I sure want to know how he expects us to get rid of it without getting killed." 

Inside the envelope, he found two sheets of expensive writing paper. He unfolded the first one and read, "Mr. Fenway, my apologies for dropping this bombshell in your lap. Since you are reading my letter, I've succumbed to death, and I have only my Maker to answer to concerning the jewels." 

"Bombshell?" Bennie lifted his eyes from the page to look at Lance. "A bit of an understatement. Apologies not accepted." 

Lance nodded but didn't say anything. Blackwell's choice of words was accurate, and the young man had no idea what he was to do about it. 

Bennie unfolded the other letter and scanned the contents. "This one appears to be your explanation."  

"What does it say? What am I supposed to do?" 

Bennie read the letter aloud:  

"Dear Ethan, 

"We never had the opportunity to meet, which I regret, but I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Rupert Blackwell, and I am your grandfather. Jenna, your mother, was my daughter. 

"She was sixteen and pregnant. I didn't handle it well. After a heated argument, she packed her things and disappeared. Years later, a nurse posted a letter addressed to me. She explained Jenna had asked her to send it upon her death. It was postmarked in Trenton, Tennessee. The name Ethan Blackwell was scribbled across the paper, nothing else. 

"I always intended to look you up, but life had other plans. A man in need of cash visited me one night and offered information about Thomas Smith, someone I knew to be your father. He was willing to keep his mouth shut and not tell the police for the right amount. Foolishly, I listened. 

"When your mother disappeared, I thought she'd chosen to leave with Thomas. After years, it surprised me he'd returned to our fair city, but he was my only connection to you.  

"I paid the money and learned of Thomas' plans. The man told me that one night, in a bar, your father was extremely drunk. His loose lips asked a drinking buddy, the man who visited me, if he wanted in on a robbery, one that would make both of them rich. He bragged about how he was going to change his kid's life. The man declined the offer and came to me instead. I guess he thought I was less of a risk. 

"My common sense went out the window. I told myself it was my chance to make things right. I was going to prevent your father from destroying his life and yours. I could foil his plans. I offered the man more money if he could get me more details, which he eagerly provided." 

"I was in the shop on the day of the planned robbery. I hadn't expected Frank O'Hara and his family to be there. When Thomas entered, flashing a gun, I froze. He ordered the shopkeeper to throw all the jewelry in a bag and then pointed the revolver at O'Hara's family. Frank pushed his wife and daughter to the floor. His guards must have seen the commotion because all hell broke loose. At that moment, without thinking, I grabbed Thomas' arm. We struggled, and the weapon fired. I didn't realize I had shot him until I saw the red stain on his shirt.  

"He stared at me for a second. Then he grabbed the bag and hurried out the back door. Bullets were flying, riddling the shop. Several of Frank's men crashed through the door, grabbing Frank and his family. Other men were returning fire toward the café. It all went down in a matter of minutes, but bodies littered the street. The shop owner was lying on the floor, and I moved him into the office. I held him until he passed. When the police officers arrived, they had their hands full and didn't have much interest in me or the dead jeweler, just the gang war outside. They escorted me to the back door and told me to leave. No questions asked. 

No one had to ask me twice. I hustled out of the shop and down the alley as fast as I could. I saw a trail of blood first and then Thomas's body lying amongst some garbage cans. There was nothing I could do for him. I found the gun in his pocket and took it.  

As I turned to leave, I saw a corner of the bag beneath his long black coat. I don't know what I was thinking at the time; actually, I wasn't thinking. I grabbed the bag and rushed home.  

As my numbness receded, full-blown terror set in. Not only had I delivered the fatal shot, killing Thomas, but I'd started a gang war in the streets of Boston. In fear someone might recognize me, I stayed inside my home.  

"After weeks of scouring every published word about the robbery and the bloodbath that occurred, I decided they had no clue about Thomas or me. They listed him as an unfortunate vagrant in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was no mention of me at all, which pleased me, of course. 

"Satan, my lifelong confidant, took the bag to the bank for me. He put the jewels in the safe deposit box, where they have remained until my death." 

With regrets, 

Rupert Blackwell

Bennie tossed the letter on the desk. "Was this guy crazy? He was involved in the biggest jewel heist in the history of Boston, killed a guy, started a bloody gang war, and now expects you to drive across country, and secretly hand it all over to a grandson he never knew." 

Lance shrugged his shoulders. "That was his plan, I guess." 

Wheels began to spin inside Bennie's head. "Do you realize the amount of money on your desk?" He picked up a gold ring with a black onyx inset and a diamond in the center and slipped it on his finger. "Nice!"  

"Maybe I should go to the police." Lance didn't like that idea, but he had no answers. 

Bennie shook his head. "That's a sure death sentence. There are more crooked cops on the force than good ones. You might as well call Costello and tell him yourself." 

"Yeah! Well, we could pack up and get out of town. Take the jewelry and find this guy in Tennessee." Lance sighed. "I know I'd feel safer anywhere but here." 

Bennie couldn't stop touching the jewelry. He picked up a pair of diamond earrings and a pearl necklace. "Of course, the guy would never miss a bauble or two since he doesn't know they exist, would he?" 

"What are you saying? We're not thieves, Bennie." 

"Do you understand how this could change your life? Think about it! We could tuck a few things away for a rainy day. Maybe take a trip to New York or Miami, someplace where people don't ask questions. It's up to you, cuz. I'm just saying you deserve it. After all, I suppose you are risking your life — and mine." 

Lance ran his fingers across a few of the pieces. "You're right about risking our lives. I know the Costello family wouldn't hesitate a second about whacking both of us if they had any idea about the jewelry." 

"That's for sure. Whatever we decide, we need to do it fast. Has it crossed your mind that someone at the bank might know a little about what was in the box?" 

"There was a teller. I could tell she was dying to know what was in there." 

"If word gets out, the decision might not be yours for the making." Bennie scooped up a handful of loose diamonds. "Can you imagine wearing cuff links made of these babies? Or me sporting this gold ring?" Bennie held up his hand with the ring on it. "Cashing in on a nice nest egg sounds appealing. I'm not saying to keep it all, but in my way of thinking, we're taking all the risks." 

"I get it! But I took an oath to uphold the law, and I'm sure that doesn't mean helping myself to the jewelry."

"I'm just saying you should think about it." Benny refilled their glasses. "A toast to a better future." No closer to a decision, they raised their glass, imagining a better life."