THE ANTIQUE DRAGON

The twins were watching the news in 1991 when the story broke. A burglary had occurred at the Rhys estate. According to the police, a masked intruder shot both people in the home. The mother died at the scene. Her seven-year-old daughter was rushed, badly hurt, to the Houston Methodist Hospital.

“What a disgrace!” Josephine Ryder said. “Crooks like that give burglars like me a bad name.”

Becky Ryder nodded from her wheelchair. She was a gentler and frailer version of her athletic twin. “You’re right, Sis,” Becky said. “All thieves have a duty to avoid violence.”

The sisters, who were thirty-five years old, differed in one major respect. Becky was born with spina bifida and could not walk. Jo ran daily as a child and became a star gymnast in college. If not for the hole in Becky’s spine, the two would have been identical at birth.

The pair owned an upscale jewelry business. Jo, who served as chief of procurement for the firm, was also a part-time burglar. She stole gems and gold for use in her sibling’s creations. Becky was president and a celebrity jewelry designer. She found and researched targets for the thefts. Because of the stream of pilfered goods, the company rarely had to pay for its expensive materials. As a result, the business, though small, was highly profitable.

After viewing the broadcast on the Rhys slaying, Jo prepared for a heist. She dressed in black and removed the bullets from her pistol. To avoid shooting someone in a crisis, she never carried a loaded gun on crime capers.

“Remind me about the loot,” Jo said to her sister. “What should I look for at the Feldmans’ property?”

“The wife owns a diamond tiara with matching earrings, a ruby bracelet, and a sapphire brooch,” Becky replied. “She stores her jewelry in the study behind the Alamo painting. The whole family is on a cruise.”

“Good, since we’re getting low on diamonds. But you know we never rob our clients. Didn’t Mrs. Feldman purchase a necklace a month ago?”

“Yes, except she returned the piece the next day. So she’s fair game.”

At 3 a.m. Jo broke into the Feldman mansion through a third-floor window. However, she could not crack the safe, a new model. Disappointed, she slipped away leaving no trace.

The day after, there was a news update on the Rhys burglary. The purloined items included a stunning medallion called the Antique Dragon. The pendant, which was covered with gems and jade, depicted the fiery beast. Laurie, the child victim, was fighting for her life.

That evening Becky attended a charity dance. She wore a blue ballgown and emerald jewelry from her collection. Her celebrity status made her popular at high-society events. They provided an opportunity to show off her creations to prospective clients and to identify potential targets - wealthy people adorned with gems - for future thefts by her twin.

Becky sat on a sofa at the ball, her wheelchair nowhere in sight. She was happy. For a few hours she would pass in public as able-bodied like her peers. Her emeralds sparkled in the light of the chandeliers.

A stranger with a gem-studded belt buckle and large pinky rings caught her eye. He invited her to fox trot. After she politely declined, they began to converse. His name was Jake Gantz.

Later a friend told her the man was a rich creep and a big-game hunter. Gantz was leaving in a month for a jaguar hunt in the Amazon. Becky, who disliked him and admired jaguars, added him to her list of burglary prospects.

* * *

Soon the newspapers published more details on the Rhys case. Tex Rhys, the father of the slain woman, had built a fortune in the oil industry (sometimes by illegal methods). He was offering a million dollars to whoever located the killer. His granddaughter Laurie would survive, but her legs were paralyzed.

The part about the child upset both twins. Becky took it harder. She knew what it meant to view the world from a wheelchair. The difference between life with impaired legs and life with nimble legs was clear whenever she compared herself to Jo.

That week the sheriff showed up to question Becky. She was seated behind her large desk.

“There’s been a leap in jewelry heists in the past ten years,” he said. “I’m not accusing anyone - yet. But I’m curious about something. Your name keeps popping up in my investigations. After break-ins, we ask the targets of the crime to identify everyone who knew the location of their safes. Many victims put you on the list. Allegedly, you wanted to know how they protected their jewels. Some people even told you the type of safe.”

Becky rarely made a mistake. In her interview with the sheriff, she made two.

“I often ask my clients about their safekeeping practices,” she answered airily. “I give customers advice on how to secure what they paid for.”

“That explains nothing. No victim who named you ever bought from you.”

Becky, flustered, mentally cursed the twins’ rule against robbing their buyers. After a moment she said, “However, that person could be a future customer. I adore gems and love talking about them. So sometimes I might discuss safes.”

The sheriff replied, “That raises another odd point. Whenever we asked victims where they got the missing gems, they named firms like Tiffany and Bvlgari. Why are you the ONLY supplier of big-bucks jewelry in this area whose products never get filched?”

Becky said, “That’s probably because, as I told you, I give my clientele suggestions on how to safeguard their purchases.” Then she rolled her wheelchair out from behind the desk.

Seeing the sheriff’s look of surprise, she added, “Do you really suspect ME of being a cat burglar? Of climbing up gutter pipes and sneaking in through an upstairs window?”

The man responded, “Almost every jewelry caper in this region in the last decade involved entry through an upper-level window. We withheld that information from the public. So how did you know the crook was a cat burglar?”

Hiding her dismay, Becky said, “I guessed it. None of the recent news reports mentioned a damaged door.”

The sheriff left, silenced by Becky’s physical condition. She feared he would find out about her incredibly fit twin.

* * *

To rob Gantz, the siblings picked a date that fell during his trip to Brazil. On the chosen night, Jo studied the premises from a distance. She saw nothing to deter her.

The yard had separate fenced sections, including one with goats. While crossing another part in the dark, Jo stepped on dung. “Just another day in the ‘glamorous’ life of a lady thief,” she thought wryly. “Becky forgot to warn me that Gantz has a large dog.”

Jo felt the usual thrill when she breached the mansion through an attic window. It was exciting to invade a stranger’s home. It also gave her insights into the owner. This house featured macho furniture and rugs.

The woman searched the main bedroom first. She discovered a few precious stones in an easy-to-open safe. They looked cheap, unlike the ones Gantz wore to the charity dance. Doubting that he packed his jeweled belt buckle for a rainforest hunt, she kept exploring.

Five minutes passed before Jo entered the man’s big-game room. Its walls were decorated with the heads of animals from different continents. The creatures included a lion, a two-horned rhinoceros, a moose, and a Komodo dragon. Only the boar’s head came from Texas. The room also contained leather chairs, primitive weapons, and a shelf of fat books.

Based on what she had learned about Gantz from snooping and Becky, two things seemed out of place. First, the trophy room, unlike the rest of the dwelling, had a linoleum floor. Yet Jo suspected that this was the hunter’s favorite spot. Second, the volumes on the shelf had titles such as Advanced Trigonometry and Physics for Physicists. Nothing else suggested that Gantz was a scholar.

Jo picked up the math tome. It was hollow and filled with ruby, diamond, and pearl jewelry. The science book held Gantz's gem-studded belt. How to Teach Philosophy to College Students yielded gold coins and precious stones.

Unbeknown to her, the shelf included a pressure-sensitive device. Thus, three things happened when she lifted the trig textbook. Due to links to the device, a camcorder concealed in the boar’s head started filming, the door of a steel cage opened in the basement, and a tape recorder above the cage played the song “Eye of the Tiger.”

Jo heard the rousing music after she raised the first volume. Quickly she emptied the valuables into her backpack without pausing to examine them.

Then she detected a closer sound. Something was bounding up the staircase. She turned, expecting to see Gantz’s dog in the doorway. There stood a Bengal tiger!

When the woman saw Zimba, she leaped for a brass lamp hanging by a chain from the ceiling. Terrified the beast would pounce, she used the light fixture as a wild trapeze. The tiger clawed her right leg on one of the swings.

Just before the chain snapped, Jo somersaulted from the lamp to the lion’s head. She huddled behind the animal’s mane, saved by her acrobatics training.

But Zimba knew how to jump. Jo kicked the tiger as it attacked her. It slashed her left leg. Next she grabbed some of the booty in her pack and hurled it at the creature. Then she vaulted from her unsafe perch to the rhino’s head.

For hours the rhino horns served as a shield. Jo stayed behind them while Zimba glowered below. The long wait gave her time to work out why Gantz kept goats and wanted an easy-to-clean floor in the trophy room.

“They were for his pet tiger,” she told herself. “It was trained to run here at the sound of that blasted song to capture and kill prey. Gantz doesn't need a security system to protect his property because he owns that monster.

“Becky and I messed up. We know Texas allows residents to have a pet tiger. Texans like to brag that there are more tigers in our state than in India. Yet Sis and I never once thought to check for jungle cats when plotting heists.”

Around 9 a.m. Jo heard someone calling Zimba. With one last growl, the creature stalked off to join its trainer. Jo slipped, bleeding, out the window and down the drainpipe. Most of the treasure was still in her knapsack.

On the way to her car, she hid in a gully while police cars raced by. She finally made it home to Becky’s loving care.

* * *

Back from his travels, Gantz was in a vile mood. He had played the camcorder’s videotape and had studied the burglar’s face. He was sure Becky Ryder, the jewelry designer from the ball, was the culprit. In the video the woman looked sturdier than he remembered, but the features were the same.

He turned on his computer and entered her name. The first thing listed was the website for Ryder Elite Jewelers. None of the photographs of Becky showed her wheelchair.

* * *

The sheriff held a televised press conference the following day. He said, “Mr. Gantz confirmed that no items were stolen from his mansion during the break-in. A blood test and the location of the blood spatters at the scene prove that the intruder was female and a superb athlete. You’ve heard of the Rhys assaults. Due to similarities between the Gantz and Rhys cases, we believe that our suspect is the murderer.”

A journalist asked, “Is it true that the theft was foiled by Zimba, Gantz’s pet tiger?”

“Yes,” the sheriff answered. “And if more Texans owned a tiger, there would be less crime.”

“Do you think the woman accused is armed and dangerous?” another reporter shouted.

“Aren’t all prudent Texans armed and possibly dangerous?” the sheriff replied, to the laughter of the crowd.

The twins were in shock after watching the broadcast. Jo was wanted for felony murder!

Seven days had passed since Jo was mauled, and she was still recovering from her wounds. That week she had used the sport wheelchair of her twin and pretended at society functions to be her. Becky, wearing Jo’s clothes and addressing the company’s employees from a chair, had posed as Jo. Due to the ruse, nobody guessed that Jo was injured and the object of a manhunt.

The hoax had temporarily forced the twins to live each other’s life. Jo confessed to being rather jealous of Becky’s creative ability, jewelry design awards, and celebrity status. Becky admitted to feeling the same about her sibling’s physical freedom.

After the sheriff’s speech, Jo said, “At least the police can’t accuse me of robbing Gantz. He claimed nothing was missing. Yet his valuables sit in my car. I forgot about the loot in all the chaos.”

When Becky retrieved Jo’s backpack, gold and jewelry spilled out. The pieces included a medallion whose picture had appeared in an article on the Rhys attacks. The twins were looking at the Antique Dragon!

“No wonder Gantz didn’t report the loss of this treasure,” Becky whispered. “He’s the brute who stole the Antique Dragon, killed a mother, and maimed her daughter.”

Jo answered, “He must be searching for the thief who spotted the pendant and uncovered his deadly secret. Gantz could prove more dangerous than the police.”

Days later Becky received a parcel. The note inside read, “Here’s a copy of a videotape. Jake Gantz knows nothing about it. In return for the original, I demand all you took and the emerald jewelry you wore at the ball. To accept this offer, post on Monday on your website: gems can be delivered. Then I’ll mail you a locker key for the exchange. Cooperate - or the police will view the video.”

“Obviously Gantz wrote the blackmail message,” Jo said.

“And he plans to erase me after getting what he desires,” Becky replied, shaken. “That fiend thinks I’m the burglar and the only person who can pin the Rhys homicide on him. He doesn’t want me in jail. He wants me - but really us - dead.”

The twins discussed the disaster deep into the night. It was Jo’s idea to smuggle the Antique Dragon into Gantz’s house and somehow alert the police to its presence. “That will establish that he’s the Rhys slayer,” she said.

Becky disagreed with the proposal. After pointing out several pitfalls, she added, “If Gantz is arrested, he’ll blame you for the Rhys shootings. He already told the police you stole zero. He’ll now claim that you planted the medallion in his home back then to incriminate him. The authorities have your blood DNA. They’ll prove through a DNA match that they found their female suspect.”

“But, Becky, Gantz thinks YOU were his cat burglar. He’ll accuse you, and nobody will believe him."

“When the story breaks, people will point to my agile double. You’ll be charged with the homicide.”

“I could offer the video as evidence that he lied about not being robbed.”

“Confirming you’re a burglar won’t exonerate you. Gantz will take you down with him. He could say both of you pulled the Rhys job, but you shot the mother and child. He’ll argue that you later stole his share of the haul and planted the Antique Dragon. At the murder trial, he might end up with a light prison sentence in return for testifying against you.”

The twins went back and forth, discussing different options. The main problems were that Gantz was an expert marksman, he had the original videotape, and his mansion was guarded by Zimba. In the end, the sisters agreed on only two things. Gantz would hide the video in a booby-trapped place in his house, and on Monday the Ryder Elite Jewelers website would announce that gems can be delivered.

Afterward Becky knew without being told what her sibling had decided to do. From childhood, Jo had been the protector of physically challenged Becky. Jo would never betray her or leave her at Gantz’s mercy. Instead, she would insist on dealing with the man and would ultimately sacrifice her life by pretending to be her twin. It was Jo who needed protection now.

To save her, Becky devised a risky, secret scheme. She finagled a Monday appointment with Tex Rhys, the father offering a reward in the Rhys case. The meeting started off poorly.

“So you’re the famous jewelry designer,” Tex said. “Let me guess. You’re claiming my daughter ordered customized jewelry from you.” He sneered. “You expect me to pay the bill to honor her last wish to present it to her girl.”

“No,” Becky said evenly. “I don’t play scams on grieving relatives of murder victims. However, as I informed your secretary, I do have something your child wanted little Laurie to receive.”

When she held up a pendant, Tex was shocked. He said, “You have the Antique Dragon! You know who shot my beloved daughter and my precious grandchild. Tell the truth, and the $1,000,000 reward is yours. What is the killer’s name?!”

“I don’t want money,” Becky answered. “One way or another, I could raise that amount for lawyers to defend my sister Jo against a murder charge. Instead, I came here to negotiate a deal to rescue her.”

She paused. “Specifically, I’m asking you, a very powerful man, to do all you can to protect my twin. You could use for that purpose part of the million dollars you just saved.”

Next Becky recounted her sister’s saga (without identifying Gantz). She ended by saying, “Jo is unlikely to survive her suicidal plan to impersonate me. If she does, I expect to see her wrongly blamed for the unspeakable crimes against your family. Because of the blood DNA and other clues, she’ll be sentenced to death or, at best, life in prison, including years for her own burglaries. I’ll give you the assassin’s name. In return, you must use your resources to shield Jo by any means you can.”

Tex and Becky stared hard at each other. Then they shook hands on the deal.

On Wednesday morning there was a news flash. According to the reporter, a fire had engulfed the residence of big-game hunter Jake Gantz. A mangled corpse, thought to be his, had been discovered in the ashes. Soon after, Gantz’s tiger was found wandering in the neighborhood. The Antique Dragon was dangling from Zimba’s collar.

Two weeks later the sheriff held a press conference, with Tex on the stage. Becky, dressed in red, sat in a wheelchair apart from the crowd.

The sheriff said, “We have established that Jake Gantz committed the Rhys burglary. He shot little Laurie, left her paralyzed, and murdered her mom. As you’ve heard, he had a tiger with the Antique Dragon attached to its collar. The autopsy revealed that the beast slaughtered him. The perp perished before a blaze destroyed his home. The fire was caused by Gantz’s lighted cigar.”

A journalist yelled, “What about the female suspect you were pursuing? Was she his accomplice?”

“After reviewing the evidence,” the sheriff responded, “we are convinced the lady is innocent. She invaded Gantz’s house. But the woman broke no doors or windows to enter, and she stole nothing. She was just a trespasser.”

Tex stepped forward and expressed his gratitude. Then he said, “Our sheriff, as an officer of the law, can’t spend my million-dollar reward on himself. That’s tough - he would love to buy a Lamborghini! However, he and his staff solved every question in this devilish case through flawless detective work. Therefore, I’m donating the money to his department for the purchase of the latest high-powered weapons.”

After the applause, a man in the audience shouted, “So Gantz got rubbed out by his own tiger. It almost looks like frontier justice.”

With a grim smile toward Becky, Tex answered, “Or the law of the jungle.”

And Becky smiled grimly in reply.

Renée Henning is an attorney and an international author. Her written work has appeared in her book Mystery and the Adopted Child and in other publications in North America (e.g., Spadina Literary Review), South America (Salto Al Día), Europe (e.g., Oslo Times), Asia (e.g., ActiveMuse), Africa (e.g., Modern Ghana), and Oceania (e.g., Freelance). One of her short stories was nominated for a Pushcart Prize.