The Lost Souvlakis Mystery: Epilogue

Epilogue

            The Bonney Boys were the guests of honor at the Grand Reopening of the National Gem Collection just before Christmas. The Director of the Museum presented them with lifetime memberships to all the Smithsonian museums. As the boys turned the little laminated cards over in their hands, they caught the eye of Detective Deffenbaugh standing in the back of the room. “You’re right,” they said, “it’s pretty nice.” He grinned at them and took a big bite of a frosted pastry that he’d swiped from the dessert buffet.

           

            All the gems had been returned to their places and the exhibit looked beautiful. Meyers, whom the boys had come to like during the time they’d spent with him during the Franklin trial, told them the stories of the various stones. “One of the ironic things about these is,” he said, “when they were in private hands, they were never worn. The owners would commission jewelers to make perfect replicas for them to wear out in public. The real ones usually never left the safety deposit boxes. And yet it’s the stories of the thefts and curses and famous defacements that give them their names and to a large extent, their values.”

            “You’re just telling us this to justify having a fake Hope Diamond in the main display case,” grinned Quinn.

            “Maybe,” said Meyers. “Or maybe knowing that there will be another chapter in the story of the Tavernier Blue isn’t such a bad thing.”

           

            Two letters arrived at the bookstore the following same day, just two days before Christmas. Both were addressed to the Bonney Boys.

            The first was postmarked from an island they’d never heard of in the South Pacific. When they opened the envelope, the stationery was a familiar shade of blue. And the handwriting was instantly recognizable. It said,

            “I have enjoyed following your adventures in the newspapers, but I long for something else to read. Through all these months, I have held out hope that you might have kept my collection intact. If you have, please ship any and all of it to the address below. Many thanks, for what you have done and for what you are surely still to do. Most Sincerely, Anthony Souvlakis.”

            The other letter was a Christmas card from Otis. There was a photograph of him and his wife at a formal ball of some sort, both of them dressed to the nines. Inside, there was no handwritten message, just a preprinted Christmas greeting, “Wishing you and yours a Happy Holiday Season, Peace on Earth, Goodwill toward man. Love from Otis and Grace.”