~ Deadly Diamonds ~

by

Judith R. Parker

I knew which records Marc was referring to although I had never seen them. After the war old Auguste Dymond had tried to trace the remnants of his family and old friends. Very few had escaped Hitler’s death camps. When he had done what he could to trace the living, he and a few colleagues, tried to trace their gem collections purloined by the Germans. The record of their efforts were in the attic. Most of the world knew about the efforts made to find and restore stolen works of art, but as far as I knew, only small effort had been made to retrieve and return the jewelry collections of individual families.

I had met Marcus Greenbaum a couple of times at jewelry shows and remembered him as a man well into his seventies, a friend of Auguste and Bernard. Marcus had worked with Auguste in compiling those files.

I went back inside, poured another cup of coffee and carried it to the attic. Auguste had remodeled one corner into an office with an adjoining bathroom. From what I had heard, he spent a good deal of the last two years of his life in this room. It had been locked for as long as I could remember, and I’d never been in it.

It was still locked and I had no idea where to find the key. I sat down on an old trunk, stared at the door and sipped coffee. Was the mystery of the missing necklace related to something in that room? A room that probably hadn’t been opened in at least forty years? Hardly likely, still I wanted to get in, to look at those files, and yet I dreaded it. It seemed indecent, somehow, like breaking into a sepulcher.

I finished the coffee and stood up. There was nothing I could do tonight. Tomorrow I would call a locksmith.

I locked up, took a long, hot bath, crawled into bed and slept like the dead until the alarm awakened me. I jumped out of bed full of anticipation that puzzled me until I remembered that Walter Fish was checking out Henry Black and would be calling me that evening.

I slipped into sweats, and for the first time in months, went down to the small gym off the den and worked out. Lieb followed me down, carrying his leash and paced the room impatiently until I finished exercising. He barked excitedly and practically dragged me out the door when I snapped the leash on his collar. Maria was waiting at the door with a piece of toweling, when we returned, and set to work cleaning Lieb’s paws. I asked her to call a locksmith. I debated waiting for him, but decided I’d go crazy sitting around the house. I told Maria to call me at the office as soon as she talked to the locksmith and I’d come home.

At the office I had a hard time settling down, but the gems finally worked their soothing magic, and it was noon before I knew it. Together, Alma and I left the office for lunch.

We’d barely started up the street when Sergeant Berg appeared and fell in step at my side. "I have a few more questions, Mrs. Diamond."

I felt my hackles rising. "Can’t this wait until after lunch?"

"I’m afraid not."

Alma, whose glances were shuttling between us like a ping pong ball, interrupted, "Then why don’t you join us for lunch, Sergeant? I’m sure you must be hungry, too."

I shot her an angry look but before I could speak, Berg grinned and accepted. I clamped my mouth shut and stalked up the street, leaving them to follow. If Alma wanted to invite him to lunch, then she could entertain him.

The hostess greeted us and, at my request, showed us to a table in a small alcove where we could have at least a modicum of privacy. Berg held my chair, an act that surprised me. I hadn’t expected that kind of old fashioned courtesy from him. Nor did I expect his first question.

"So how do you think MacMillan compares to George Karl?"

"He seems to be getting the team together. Think they’ll make it into the playoffs this year?"

Berg, it seemed, was an ardent Sonics fan. Somehow it didn’t surprise me and I found myself warming toward him as we discussed the game.

"So you really are a Sonics fan. Was your husband a fan, too?"

I bit my lip in disgust. I’d almost allowed him to lull me into relaxing. Damn the man! Well, it wouldn’t happen again. "Not particularly. We watched the games on TV occasionally. Was that what you wanted to ask?"

"You know it’s not. You said--"

He stopped speaking as the waitress brought our food. I’d been hungry when I ordered, but now I picked at the taco salad, my throat dry and tight. I saw him watching me and speared a forkful of salad. I’d be damned if I’d let him see that he was upsetting me. I stuffed the lettuce in my mouth and began to chew, caught his eye and nearly choked. The damned ape was grinning. And it wasn’t a friendly grin.

I watched in fascination as he devoured a taco salad, double order of enchiladas and a side order of frijoles. When he had wiped the plate clean and devoured the last tortilla, he leaned back and sighed contentedly, looking for all the world, like a sleepy teddy bear. I decided I didn’t like him after all.

He caught my look and, I could swear, blushed. "When you’re as big as I am, it takes a lot of food to keep you going." He straightened, the grizzly coming to the fore. "Now, let’s get down to business."

He pulled a book from his pocket and I recognized it as the appointment book David kept on his desk. He laid it on the table and drew out a notebook and pencil. Flipping open David’s book and looking at Alma, he said, "I noticed these large X’s, blocking out several hours. Did that mean he was out of the office at those times?"

Alma glanced at the book and shrugged. "Sometimes. He usually did that when he was going to be out of the office, but occasionally it meant he just didn’t want to see anyone."

He turned back to the first page, January first then flicked through the next three pages, all crossed out. "Vacation?" I nodded. He continued turning, stopping at each X’d out page. Alma was able to fill him in on most of the times until the twentieth of January.

Alma looked at the three afternoon hours that had been crossed out and shook her head. "Mr. Diamond went to meet an out of town client. He didn’t mention any name or anything about the meeting."

Three days before his death, David had blocked out the afternoon and left without telling Alma where he was going. Berg turned to me. "He didn’t mention any of these meeting to you?"

"No. He could have been doing an appraisal or meeting with someone who wanted to invest in gems."

"Is that usual?"

"Certainly. Frequently people don’t want to let their jewelry out of their possession. I’m doing an appraisal at a bank on Friday for Tony Di Marco."

He flipped to the day of David’s death. Most of the day had been X’d out. "How about this time period? Where was he? Who did he meet?"

I shook my head and looked at Alma. She avoided my eyes as she answered, "I have no idea."

"But he was out of the office?"

"Yes."

Berg continued to stare at her for a moment, then turned back to me. "How about nights, Mrs. Diamond? Was your husband often gone at night?"

"Occasionally. Particularly if it was a buyer from out of town or someone who wasn’t free during the day."

"Did he carry gems on his person?"

"Very rarely."

"What about the night he was killed. Would he have been carrying anything valuable?"

"I don’t know. He called about eight to say that he had to meet an out-of-town client and that he might be late. He said not to wait up, that he’d eat out."

"Was he dining with the client?"

"He didn’t say, but I got the impression he was not."

"Why such a late meeting?"

I shrugged. "I have no idea. If the client was driving or flying in and not arriving until late, and if he was bringing something valuable, he might want it out of his possession and into our safe as soon as possible."

"Is anything missing from your safe?"

The question sent shock waves racing up and down my spine. Did Berg know about the two necklaces? How much did he know? Or suspect? Was he just fishing? I answered as truthfully as I could. After all, I didn’t know anything was missing. I only had my own unconfirmed suspicions. "Not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?"

"Because whoever killed your husband ripped the lining out of his suit coat and slashed the hems and waistband of his pants. Why would a thief go to that much trouble and still leave a valuable watch and ring?"

I stared at him my throat dry, unable to speak. For a split second, I thought his gaze softened, but I must have imagined it. There was nothing soft about his voice. "Mrs. Diamond, why don’t you tell me the truth? You’re going to have to sooner or later. It will go a lot easier on you if you tell me now."

I spoke slowly, forcing the words through gritted teeth. "I did not kill David." I slammed the palm of my hand on the table nearly upsetting my water glass. "Do you hear me, Sergeant? I...did...not...kill...my...husband!" Anger churned in my belly and I began to shake. "Damn you. When are you going to start looking for the person who did kill him?"

"Relax, Mrs. Diamond. I didn’t say you killed him, now did I?" He stood, picked up the check and tossed a couple of bills on the table. "It’s been an interesting lunch. I’ll look forward to seeing you ladies again." He moved away then turned. Until that moment, I had never believed that brown eyes could be so cold. "When I do accuse you, Mrs. Diamond, I’ll do it with a warrant in my hand."

When, not if.