The Golden Gift: Part 2

 While Smasher returned somewhere around his usual time, it always felt longer to Crispin whenever he had a client waiting to see him. The big lug could sense the air of impatience as he strolled into the shop with his board. He put his board away and started to stroll over to the counter where Crispin was eagerly waiting.

 "You alright, man?" Smasher asked.

 "I'm fine," Crispin said, "How were the waves?"

 "Totally rocking, man." Smasher said, with a smile. "I hated to leave them."

 "Sorry to hear that, but I'm glad you did," Crispin said, tossing him the keys. "I gotta jet. There's a potential client waiting for me in the office."

 "Really?" Smasher said, rather surprised. "This early?"

 "I'm as surprised as you are," Crispin said, as he was walking backwards to the office. "We'll catch up over lunch, and it might be my treat this time!"

 "I'll believe that when I see it," Smasher replied, rather smugly.

 Crispin disregarded the comment as it was a well-deserved jab, as Smasher covered enough lunches to earn the right to be skeptical. There was on the other hand something more deserving of his attention, and the prospect of work showing up this early in the day excited Crispin enough to not let any barbs get to him. Addison Jones was on her smart phone checking something when Crispin strolled into the room and closed the door behind him. It was a typical office set up with a big desk, and two chairs in front of it for clients to make themselves comfortable. Addison had already parked herself into one of the chairs, but put her phone away when he arrived, and looked ready to discuss business immediately.

 "What brings you to my office, Ms. Jones?" Crispin casually asked.

 "It's Mrs. Jones, actually," she corrected him. "I may no longer be married, but I prefer it out of habit."

 "My apologies, Mrs. Jones," Crispin said, taking a breath. "What can I do for you?"

 "It's my son," she answered, "William is my youngest of three boys, and he's been in and out of rehab with dreadful drug issues. While I'm happy to have him home for the holidays, something has recently happened that concerns me a great deal."

 "Tell me what happened," Crispin asked, despite having an idea. He wanted to give her a chance to get it off her chest. Hearing it in her words was also very important to him.

 "A few expensive pieces of jewelry have gone missing from my bedroom," Mrs. Jones replied, "I can't help but fear the worst, and it's upsetting me a great deal."

 "You're afraid he stole them to get drugs," Crispin said, "And you want me to look into this to confirm it?"

 "Not exactly," she said, wiping a tear away. "I'd like you to find out if its true or not first. I don't want to confront him if there's a chance someone else stole them. Find out where my jewelry went, and if it turns out to be my son, then I'll burn that bridge when I get to it."

 "I think I understand," Crispin said, offering her a tissue, "You don't want to make accusations without credible independent evidence to back the charge. You want to be sure before you confront him."

 "Exactly," Mrs. Jones said, wiping her cheek, "Find out what happened to them, and then I can deal with it. I actually hope it isn't him, because I was looking forward to our first Christmas together in over a decade. This was the last thing I wanted to deal with. I might actually celebrate if you find out it was the pool boy or some common thief."

 "Have you filed a police report?" Crispin asked.

 "No, not yet," she answered, "I didn't want to put William in that position."

 "Fair enough," Crispin said, "Do you have any pictures of the missing jewelry so that I can try to find them for you?"

 "Yes, I brought a few." Mrs. Jones said, as she dug into her purse and fished out a few pictures of the missing pieces. "There's also a recent picture of my son. I'm not trying to be materialistic bitch, Mr. Mills, I'm more concerned about my son. I want to make sure he's alright and not fallen off the wagon and is using again."

 "Fair enough," Crispin said, "I'll do my best to recover them, but at the same time I'll identify the thief and bring anything I find to you first before going to the police."

 "I appreciate that," Mrs. Jones said, and as she stood up, she pulled a small brown envelope and held it out for him. "Here is payment upfront. I can and will pay more at the end of your investigation if I'm satisfied with your work."

 "Thank you," Crispin said, taking the envelope. "I'll get to work on it immediately."

 "Thank you, Mr. Mills," Mrs. Jones said, "I'd like to know the truth before the holidays so that it doesn't ruin them for the entire family. Everyone has been looking forward to the whole family being together this year."

 "That's less than a week away," Crispin reminded her, "But I don't think I'll need that much time to figure this out. I should have little trouble meeting your deadline."

 "I'm glad to hear that," Mrs. Jones said, and without even saying goodbye, she strolled right out of the office and quickly for the shop's front door.

 Crispin took a moment to count the cash, which there was a lot of, and that confirmed to him that Mrs. Jones was more concerned about her son than her own jewels. She could probably afford get then replaced anytime she wanted, for she was clearly loaded. Her kids on the other hand, were irreplaceable. He respected her for that and slowly strolled out into the shop to see Smasher.

 "Dude, did she hire you?" Smasher asked. Usually when clients stormed out of the shop like that, Crispin has usually done or said something to ruin the opportunity.

 "She sure did," Crispin said, showing him the envelope, "And she paid up front, which means lunch is on me after all."

 "Whoa," Smasher said, as he felt his heart skip a beat. "Usually the miracles occur on Christmas, not before them."

 "You're an atheist," Crispin reminded him, "You don't believe in miracles."

 "And yet here you are," Smasher joked, "Money in hand, ready to buy me lobster rolls."