Page 66

SNEAK PEEK

The back room of the Philadelphia jewelry store was cluttered with files, papers, and glittery dust. Like almost all back rooms of all jewelry stores Cici Wright had seen—and she’d seen her share—the commonplace and the precious shared the space like old friends.

After clearing off the desk, Mr. Delvecchio, the store owner, had told her she could use for the day, she set up her equipment, then selected the first item from the things he’d set aside for her to appraise.

This summer, Cici had spent two weeks in Paris with her mom and her little sister, Delaney, then another week at home with her family.

She was glad to be back at work. She’d spent five days moving from city to city, jewelry store to jewelry store.

She loved nothing more than gazing into some of the most precious jewels on the planet.

Or even the more ordinary ones, like the diamond-stud earrings that were first on her list.

Round cut set in eighteen carat gold. Three-quarter carats each.

Both with faint coloration—nothing the untrained eye would see.

They each had minor inclusions, but again, not anything the average person would notice.

They were just typical diamond studs. She made notes for her report, then set the earrings aside.

She had no time to linger today. It was already late in the afternoon, and her flight to Maine was scheduled for tonight.

For the next couple of hours, Cici made her way through the rest of the batch Mr. Delvecchio had set aside for her. When she finished, she stepped through a narrow door into the store.

It couldn't have been more different from the back room.

The air out here practically sparkled, reflecting the beautiful jewels displayed in glass cabinets all around the room.

Classical music played softly in the background.

Beyond the windows on either side of the front door, well dressed shoppers passed by carrying bags with designer names.

This shop was down the street from the famed Boyds Philadelphia and surrounded by luxury clothing, handbag, and shoe stores.

The owner was wiping down the top of one of the glass cases. He looked up when she came in. “Find any treasures?” He always asked her the same question when she made her monthly visit to Philadelphia. This was one of four stores she had contracts with in the city.

“Not today. I can get started working on the reports, but I think you mentioned you had another lot for me to look at?"

“Ah, yes.”

When she first heard Tony Delvecchio’s name, she’d pictured a bald-headed, round-bellied sort, but Mr. D was tall and slender with only the slightest paunch. He had gray hair, a thick mustache, and a kind smile. He was one of her favorite clients.

"I've barely had a look at it.” He tossed his paper towel in the trash, his mouth slipping into a smirk. “I’m afraid it’s just a bag of junk.

My niece paid fifteen hundred for the lot, but knowing her, it's worth about fifty bucks.” His twinkling eyes told her he didn't really believe that. He hadn’t become one of the the most successful independent jewelers in Philadelphia by making bad deals.

“Let's hope there's something special in it.”

Mr. D followed Cici into the back room, where he dug into an old filing cabinet drawer and lifted out a black velvet drawstring bag about the length of her forearm.

“I've been wanting to go through this bag for…" The doorbell chimed, and he said, “And that’s why I never did. Duty calls.” He handed the bag to her. “Let me know if you find a Captain Hook’s plunder.”

“Will do.” After he left, Cici opened it on her workspace.

She understood immediately why Mr. D doubted the value of the pieces in here.

Some of them were so gaudy they had to be costume.

There was a strand of pearls which looked authentic, and a vintage opal ring.

A sparkle from the bottom of the bag caught her eye, and she pushed the other things aside and tugged it out.

It was a necklace, looked to be circa 1920s, or an excellent replica of the time period. At first glance, she thought it was a very high quality piece of costume jewelry, but when she moved the piece into the light, her breath caught.

These weren’t fakes.

She counted sixty pear-shaped rubies, each at least a carat, separated by marquee-shaped diamonds that were just as large. All set in eighteen-karat gold or better.

Altogether, this necklace had to weigh over a hundred carats. The value of the stones alone would be in the tens of thousands. But in an antique setting like this?

She laid it out and saw the full picture.

She’d seen this before, or something very similar to it.

She pulled out her phone, fingers trembling as she searched for the image she was sure she’d saved.

There it was in an article about the recent happenings in her hometown of Shadow Cove, Maine.

Cici's big sister, Brooklynn, and her new boyfriend, Forbes, had recently exposed the smugglers who’d killed his parents twenty-five years before.

It was a shocking story that’d had the whole country mesmerized for days.

This particular article wasn’t about the murders but about the ruby necklace that was stolen that same grizzly day, a necklace that had remained missing for a quarter century.

Cici gazed at the photograph in the article, which showed Forbes’s mother wearing the beautiful ruby-and-diamond necklace at an event.

The article explained the piece’s provenance.

According to legend, the necklace had been a gift to a Ballentine ancestor from a British Duke as a reward for his help saving the Duchess’s life.

Cici compared the jewels in her hand with the photograph.

This was it. The Crimson Duchess.

This wasn't just any necklace. It had belonged to Charles and Grace Ballentine. Forbes and his newly discovered sister were its rightful owners now.

Not only was it practically priceless, this necklace could lead Forbes and the authorities to the rest of the people involved in the Ballentines’ murders.

Heart pounding, Cici dialed her older sister.

“Hey, sis. You back from?—?”

“I need to speak to Forbes.” She kept her voice low. “Are you with him?”

"It's nice to talk to you too." Brooklynn’s voice held a hint of amusement.

"It's an emergency. Is he there?"

“I think he's at the estate meeting contractors. I'm at the gallery, but I’ll see him?—”

“Text me his number, please.”

“Are you?—?”

“I’m fine. It’s fine. I'll tell you everything, or, probably he'll tell you everything.

But I just need to talk to him right now.

Quickly." Because Cici wasn't sure what to do.

Should she call the police? Should she tell Mr. D?

She had no idea what the procedure was when one found stolen merchandise that might be evidence in a double homicide.

When the text came, Cici dialed.

“Forbes Ballentine.” His voice was deep and tinged with curiosity. Cici assumed Brooklynn had texted him as well, letting him know to expect Cici’s call.

“You won't believe what I've found.”

“What is it?” The amusement was gone from Forbes’s voice. No doubt he’d picked up on her fear.

“It's your stolen necklace. I'm almost positive. Your mother's ruby-and-diamond necklace.”

“Where? How do you…? Are you sure?”

“Hold on.” She snapped a photo of it and texted it to him. “You tell me.”

The doorbell chimed in the store, the sound cutting through the silence as the photo sent. Mr. D buzzed the customers inside.

On the other end of the line, Forbes sucked in a breath. “I don't believe it. How in the world…?”

“Somebody brought it in with a whole bagful of stuff, like it didn’t even matter.”

“I have a photograph of it here somewhere. Hold on one minute.” She heard heavy footsteps on hardwood.

“Hurry. I need to figure out what to do.”

“Good afternoon.” From the other room, a man’s voice was smooth as silk. “I wonder, is your charming young salesperson here? I believe my son did business with her a couple of days ago.”

“Maria only works Tuesdays and Thursdays. What can I do for you?”

“Surely, you're not alone here with all these beautiful jewels.”

“That’s why I keep the door locked and the cameras running. I'm the only one working the counter today."

“Yes.” Forbes spoke through the phone. “That’s it. Where are you exactly?”

“I’m at a store in Philadelphia. What do you want me to do? Should I call the police or?—?”

“I'm going to call my contact at the FBI. But you need to make sure that they don't display that necklace or sell it. Would you be able to do that, or should I make a call?”

“Yeah, I think…”

“Sir, you’re not allowed back here.” Mr. D sounded alarmed—and not a little afraid. “Return to the other side of the counter or I'll be forced to call the cops.”

“Cici?” Forbes prompted.

“Shh.” She crept to the doorway between the back room and the store and peeked through.

A man stood behind Mr. D, his arm around the jewelry store owner’s neck. By the way his body jerked, he was struggling.

Another man stood guard. He was heavy set with black jeans and a tight-fitting black T-shirt. His head was shaved, and he watched the door, blocking the view from outside with his wide body.

Aside from the classical music, the room was silent.

And then, Mr. Delvecchio, the man she’d like so well, collapsed.

What in the world?

She couldn't make sense of it. All she knew was that she had to get out of there. Now.

She shoved her phone in her pocket, scooped up the drawstring bag, necklace and everything that had come with it, and hurried to the rear door.

“Start looking,” the smooth-talking man said. “Find it. Now.”

Heart racing, Cici pushed out the door into the alley and bolted behind the neighboring store and then between the buildings toward the road.

“Stop!” a man shouted after her.

She pumped her legs faster, finally reaching the main road and all the shoppers. Except there weren’t that many, not nearly enough to give her cover.

She’d parked on a side street a few blocks away.

Rather than run—and draw attention to herself—Cici slowed to a fast walk.

She’d worn her hair in a bun today to keep it out of her face while she worked.

She pulled the bun out, letting her long hair fall and hoping the change would throw off the man following her.

She moved up close to a group of women and walked right behind them, trying to look like she was one of them.

But even though it made no sense, she would swear she could hear the footsteps of that heavy-set man coming up behind her.

She couldn’t help it.

She turned around.

And locked eyes with the guard. He was maybe twenty feet back, not fooled by her hair switch at all.

She broke into a run, shoving past the women, moving as fast as her legs would carry her. She dodged shoppers and bicycles and anything else in her way.

At the next corner, she crossed against traffic, nearly getting hit by a car. She passed two storefronts, then dashed down the alley, shoving her hand into her pocket to retrieve her keys. She finally grabbed them and clicked to unlock the car door.

She yanked it open, threw the bag into the passenger seat, and started the engine.

The phone connected to Bluetooth, and Forbes's voice was frantic through the speakers.

"Cici, what's going on? Are you still there?”

The man was turning the corner behind her.

She floored the accelerator and lurched down the alley and onto the next street. "The owner, Mr. Delvecchio. I think…I think he was murdered!” Her voice was too high, the words coming too fast. She sounded panicked. She was panicked. “I have to call the police."

“Are you safe now?”

She checked her rearview mirror. She’d left the guard in the alley. “I think so. I'm in my car.”

Which he’d seen. It was a rental, though. Surely he wouldn’t be able to track it to her.

“Call me back right after you get off the phone with the police.”

“I will.” Cici hung up, her mind racing as she dialed 911.

The operator's voice was calm, asking for details, but all Cici could focus on was the road ahead, the memory of Mr. D’s body falling to the floor, and the fear that she might be next.

She gave her name and the store’s location.

“I think they killed him. I don't know, but I think he strangled him.”

“Who?”

“I don't know! I didn't see their faces. I mean I saw… I saw a little of one side of one of the men. The thing is, Mr. D’s niece is probably in danger. They were asking about her. You need to protect her.”

“OK, ma'am. I'm going to give you the address of the closest police precinct. Go there and make a report. I'm dispatching emergency vehicles to the jewelry store now.”

The traffic was heavy, though it was probably normal for a Wednesday afternoon in Philadelphia.

As she approached a red light, she checked her rearview mirror again.

Unfortunately, she had no idea what she was looking for.

She had no idea what those men were driving, or if they were behind her, or if they were in front of her, or even what their faces looked like.

How was she supposed to know if she was safe?

She plugged in the address the dispatcher had given her and followed the directions to the police station. How had she gone from gazing at the most beautiful piece of jewelry she’d ever seen in her life to…this?