The Ring

"The ring could be anywhere now," I said, frustrated at the truth.

I had seen a photograph of the once-happy couple, resting on the mantle in Marilyn's house. I had stared at the picture, intently trying to think about what had been in their minds as the picture was taken. Pure love, I was sure. The ring glimmered on Marilyn's slim finger.

The jewel was big-too big to be taken for real-and the setting was a delicate, but elaborate flowery detail.

This ring would stand out anywhere, I was certain.

Quizzing Jack on the details of the sale, I scribbled notes and began my search with a look in the phone book.

The shop where he had sold the ring had long since moved, and was now on a dingy street cluttered with trash, drug houses, and marred too often by shootings.

I took a deep breath and decided I might want to call in help for this part of the search. Tom was the only person I could think of who would help me search in that area of the city without making a fuss over the location.

"Sure you couldn't find a better neighborhood?"

he joked. Still, he agreed to come.

"I'll pick you up in twenty minutes," I told him.

I could have asked Colleen, of course, but I wasn't sure she would go along with the idea. Even Tom wrinkled up his nose in disgust when we arrived at the shop. Bars across the window said it all-we weren't the only ones who were nervous.