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“Snow globes vary in size. Those Sutton House globes are fairly large, but even a large snow globe isn’t much of a hiding place. There’s a potential compartment in the base of the globe and then the globe itself. So whatever it is, it’s got to be something small.”

“Jewels. Gem stones.” Quinn sounded as definite as if he’d just read an actual police report. “Diamonds, probably.”

“Why diamonds probably?”

Quinn shrugged. “Diamonds provide anonymous currency in uncertain times. Times don’t get much more uncertain than these, ergo the diamond market is blazing-hot right now.”

Andy spared a smile. “Ergo?”

“I didn’t sleep througheveryclass, you know. Anyway, it’s virtually impossible to trace stolen diamonds.”

“Is there still such a demand for natural diamonds with the rise of lab-grown diamonds?”

“Yes. For a variety of reasons. In fact, the demand for smalls—tiny diamonds both natural and lab-grown—is at an all-time high.”

Andy considered. “I haven’t heard about any big diamond heists lately.”

“You wouldn’t necessarily. The jewelry industry loses more than a hundred million dollars each year to theft—andthat doesn’t include losses incurred by second parties like pawnshops or individuals. Jewel theft isalwaysbig business.”

“It just seems so…fantastic. The idea that stolen gems could be hidden in a snow globe that somehow winds up in Uncle C.’s tiny, off-the-beaten-track antiques shop?” Andy shook his head. “But someone did break into Time in a Bottle—not once, but multiple times. Someone did nearly kill Uncle C. And Miriam’s collection was destroyed.Andthere was that weird little man in the green fedora.”

Quinn—mid-sip—set his glass down. “What weird little man in a green fedora?”

Chapter Thirteen

“I’m not sure he’s relevant,” Andy said.

“Um…” It was more likeuhhhhhhhm. “Why don’t you tell me about…what was his name?”

“He didn’t give a name.”

“Did he leave a card?”

“No. I had the impression he was a dealer, and he did seem to know something about snow globes. But no, he didn’t leave a card.”

Quinn took that delayed swallow of Sazerac. “What else can you tell me about him?” His green gaze was watchful.

Andy said ruefully, “Maybeyoushould be telling me about him?”

“He does sound like someone I might have run into,” Quinn admitted. “Does he have kind of an accent?”

“I didn’t notice an accent. He had a formal, old-fashioned way of speaking.”

“Can you describe him? How tall was he? How old?”

“Short. Five six maybe? In his fifties maybe. Very trim. Very…dapper. His eyes were dark. They looked black. And he had a Van Dyke beard. The main thing that stood out was the hat.”

“Well, yeah. That’s the point of a green fedora.” Quinn studied Andy. “Any other odd or puzzling things happen in the last twenty-four hours?”

Andy scowled. “Seriously? You’re not going to tell me who the man in the green fedora is?”

“If he’s who I think he is, his name is Cyril Sirius.”

“Cyril Sirius. You’re…”

“Serious? Yes.”

Andy laughed. It was a strange ripped-out-of-his-throat kind of sound, and it startled both him and Quinn. “Sorry,”Andy said. “I’m just…I feel like I’m dreaming. Thiscan’tbe happening. Any of it. Including you. How are you evenhere, Quinn?”