Jem Stone's Gemstones

Jerome Stone opened the door to his best friend Hugh Jacksonville with a big smile, and pulled him into a fierce hug.

"Hugh!" he exclaimed, "How are you doing? Not yet fed up with the Arctic?"

"Jem, you're looking well. Happy birthday! You've met Rachel, haven't you?" Hugh's wife, Rachel, smiled and held out her hand. Nearly 60 she may have been, but with smooth, perfectly tanned skin, and her golden hair with only a few threads of grey in it pinned into an elaborate updo, she was still very beautiful. She pecked Jem's worn cheek and made her way into the room.

"I hope you don't mind, but I've invited my children and their families to dinner as well," said Jem, as the doorbell rang, and he hurried to fetch it.

"Not at all, I would be delighted to meet them," replied Hugh, sociably.

A moment or so later, Jem was followed back into the room by a young woman and a tall, dark, silent-looking man. "Hugh, this is my daughter Harriet and her fiance, Mark. Mark and Harriet, this is my best friend, Hugh, and his wife Rachel."

The two couples greeted amiably, and Jem invited them all to a cup of coffee. "We'd better wait for Alan and his family," he explained, as he poured five cups, "And then we'll all go into lunch. I've prepared roast chicken and vegetables!"

The response was enthusiastic, and soon the conversation turned to Harriet's losing her job, the sharp rise in plane ticket prices, and the adventures of Hugh and Rachel on their last few years studying currents in the Arctic. The only person who didn't speak was Mark, who sat sullenly and stroked his moustache.

It was another forty-five minutes before the doorbell finally rang, and a young man and four young children were let in.

"I'm so sorry!" Alan rushed, "The traffic was terrible, we were out a bit too late, and I -"

"Never mind, never mind, you're here now." After greeting his grandchildren and introducing Alan to everyone else, Jem led the way through to the dining room.

After lunch, Jem brought out a small box and a key. Saying nothing as he opened slowly opened it, he captured everyone's attention, even Mark's. Inside the box lay a small black velvet pouch, which made a slight jangling noise when he shook it.

"Okay, whoever can guess what's in here can keep it," he smiled, knowing that no-one would be able to guess. After a few wild guesses from the children, and the odd suggestion from the adults, Jem chuckled and tipped the contents onto the table.

Everyone gasped. No fewer than twenty jewels spilled onto the oak, diamonds, sapphires and rubies.

"Where did you get them, Grandad?" one of the little boys.

"A good friend of mine, Brendan, died a few weeks ago. He left me these. Beautiful, aren't they?"

"Brendan?" Hugh asked suddenly. "I knew him. He went to our school, didn't he?"

"That's right," replied Jem, pleasantly, in answer to Hugh's jealous scowl.

After letting everyone admiring them, he put the jewels back in their box and locked them away, leading everyone through to the living room. Mark, however, lingered a little longer in the room, staring at the little silver box. After a few moments, he joined the others in the living room.

At the end of the day, when everyone had left, Jem was preparing to go to bed. As he walked back through the dining room, he noticed the small silver box, and smiled to himself. Just one more look, he promised himself. They were so beautiful.

But as he was preparing to insert the key, he noticed a small smudge of something bronze-coloured near the lock. He sniffed it. Fake tan? He tried again. There was no doubt about it, it was fake tan. Taking a closer look, he noticed a few scratches around the lock, as if made by a hairpin.

Fearing the worst, he quickly turned the key and yanked open the box. The little velvet pouch was empty.

He took a slow, deep breath. "Okay. I think I can work out who did this."

Answer (highlight to read): It was Rachel. Having spent many years in the Arctic circle, her tan must have been faked. Also, her hair was tied up using hairpins. She needed the money because of the steeply rising plane prices, and her regular trips to the Arctic Circle.