When Officer Claire Lambert investigates the case of a stolen locket, she discovers more than she bargained for - a lesson about true love.
Officer Claire Lambert never would have guessed when she arrived at the small ranch house on the outskirts of Philadelphia that Grace Goodhart was the heiress to a fortune.
“Thank you for coming so quickly, Claire,” the woman greeted her. “I only wish we were meeting under more pleasant circumstances.”
“Me, too, Mrs. Goodhart,” Claire agreed as she was ushered inside.
“Please, dear, call me Grace.”
“Tell me what happened, Grace,” Claire began, cutting to the chase. “On the phone you said your caretaker stole a great deal of money.”
“Not money, dear,” Grace said. “She stole a key.”
“A key?”
“That’s right. I kept it in my locket.”
Grace’s fingers reached toward the heart shaped ornament that dangled from her neck on a delicate gold chain.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t follow,” Claire said.
“Have a look for yourself.”
Grace lifted the chain from her neck and handed the locket to Claire.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? It was a gift from my late husband. He had it engraved in Northern Ireland, during the war.”
The pattern on the gold surface was certainly unusual. A series of lines formed angles all around the heart. The lines drew the eye inward toward the distinct shape of a diamond in the center.
“He was quite an artist, my Harry.”
“He certainly was,” Claire agreed, opening the locket. Inside was the imprint of a key.
“Is this the key Linda stole?” Claire asked.
Grace nodded.
“Was she the only other person who knew the significance of the key?”
“There was Harry, of course. But he’s been gone nearly ten years.”
“How much did you tell her, Grace?”
“I told her everything—fool that I am! Last evening at dinner I told her the key opens a lock box in a Belfast train station. This morning both Linda and the key were gone.”
“What’s the name of the train station?”
Grace shook her head.
“I just can’t remember, but I have a shoebox full of letters and maps from Harry’s days in Northern Ireland. Do you think it would help?”
“It’s worth a look.”
Before she left to retrieve the shoebox, Grace said,
“You know, Claire—this isn’t about the money. What I want back is the secret Harry and I shared.”
“Don’t worry,” Claire said. “We’re going to get both.”
***
That night, Claire read and reread every letter in Grace’s shoebox. She was moved by the tale of love the letters told.
As a young American soldier in World War II, Harry had been stationed in Northern Ireland. He resided in a boarding house run by an elderly woman who was so inspired by his words of love for Grace that she left him a sizable portion of her wealth when she passed away. She had never used the money, believing life’s true richness came from love.
In the same spirit, Harry had put the money away for safe keeping. He wrote to Grace that they could withdraw it if they ever needed it, but hoped they never would.
Moving though the story was, Claire found nothing concrete about the train station. No address or box number, not even a name.
She was about to give up when she noticed a small piece of paper at the bottom of the box. Pulling it out to read, she gasped. It was a handwritten receipt for the rental of the lock box, and it contained all the information the Belfast police would need to track down Linda English.
***
The next day, Claire went to the Goodhart cottage with a heavy heart. She had both good and bad news to share.
The good news was that Linda English had been arrested. Just hours after Claire spoke to the Belfast police Linda arrived at the train station to open the lock box with the stolen key. The bad news was that Harry’s fortune, if it had ever been there to begin with, was gone. The police found nothing in the box but a postcard that read, “To Portrush with love.”
“Portrush is the town where Harry was stationed during the war. Didn’t you see the map in the box of letters?”
In her search for information about the Belfast train station, Claire must have missed it. They retrieved the map and opened it, studying the small town in silence. There was something familiar about the pattern of the streets. In the center of the map, someone had drawn an “x” and circled it. All the streets seemed to be angled toward it—
“That’s it!” Claire said, marveling at Harry’s cleverness. “Grace, the key to the money was never inside the locket! The locket itself is the key!”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“The pattern engraved over the heart isn’t Harry’s creation—it’s a map of Portrush! The diamond in the center is the place where Harry put the money!”
Taking a moment to study her locket, then the map, Grace smiled.
“I knew it,” she said. “If Harry said there was money, I knew there had to be. I’m just glad Linda English didn’t get her hands on it!”
“Grace, now that you know where the money is, you should think about moving it closer to home.”
Grace shook her head.
“The money doesn’t matter. It can’t buy happiness, after all. True happiness is free—it comes from love.”
“But what will become of the money if you leave it where it is?”
Grace smiled.
“Do you have any marital prospects I should know about?” she asked with a sparkle in her eye. “Nothing would give me greater joy than knowing the money would be forgotten by another happy couple for the next 50 years!”
Officer Claire Lambert never would have guessed when she arrived at the small ranch house on the outskirts of Philadelphia that Grace Goodhart was the heiress to a fortune.
