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“Should I call Lily?” I wondered, knowing I would never, ever hear the end of it when I did.

“Not yet,” said Solomon, who didn’t appear at all perturbed by Lily’s potential reaction. “It would be good to complete the surveillance and identify as many customers as we can. If the elderly ladies do appear suspicious, it would be wise to discuss her perspective, but we should complete other tasks first.”

“We need more information about the ring too,” I said. “There was only one picture in the packet you gave us.” I hadn’t studied it carefully but it was a pretty gold band with a large sapphire surrounded by diamonds, old-fashioned but in a desirable, vintage way.

“Laura’s on her way,” said Alan. “She bought the ring from one of her contacts so she’s in a better position than me to give you more information. We should have given you all the information yesterday evening but we were in too much of a hurry to find help. I’m not sure if my sister even listed it on our website yet so I suppose she’s pulling together all the details. Laura felt it was remiss of us and I agree.”

“Don’t be,” I said. “We’ve only just begun the investigation. This is part of discovery.” As I said it, I wondered how much I was reassuring Alan he hadn’t done anything wrong, and how much of it was for my own benefit. I couldn’t help feeling guilty I hadn’t taken Lily more seriously yesterday. Could we have prevented a crime? Surely, those old ladies were witnesses, not thieves.

A buzz sounded in the small room and I turned, looking for the source of the noise.

“That’s the shop floor buzzer,” said Alan, opening the door. A pair of voices seeped through as another door opened: Jonathan and a woman. “Here’s Laura now,” he added. “Jonathan probably buzzed to let us know she was coming through.”

“Does everyone come through the shop’s front door?” I asked.

Alan nodded. “We prefer it that way. There’s an emergency exit at the back but we decided entry from the front is better for security.”

“Alan showed me before you got here,” said Solomon to me. “I agree it’s a sensible protocol to use one entrance and exit given the value of items in the shop.”

“Hello,” said Laura when she appeared in the doorway of the small room, followed by my dad right behind her, making it feel a touch claustrophobic. “You don’t know how good it is to see you all at work already. I spent half the night fretting about the theft.”

“Theft can be unsettling. You remember our consultant, Steve Graves?” said Solomon.

“Of course. Mr. Graves was telling me about his detective days,” Laura said, nodding.

“And that I’m very happy to assist on the case,” added Dad. He wore a button-down shirt and jeans, every inch the retired detective. “I’m sure I’ll get up to speed quickly.”

“I’d really like to talk to you about the ring,” I said to Laura. “It would be great to get a few more details about it.”

“Anything to help,” she said, without trying to step inside. “This room is a little too cramped for all of us. Would you like to come into the office?”

“Please,” I agreed, already rising. “We won’t take long.”

“Take as long as you need,” she said pleasantly.

The four of us followed Laura to the end of the short corridor, past the closed door to the restroom, the small breakroom—the kitchenette little more than a fridge, microwave, sink and coffee pot all squashed together in one unit—and into a room twice as large as the security room and considerably plusher than the breakroom.

The office was furnished with a large, antique desk with scrolled legs and a thick top, behind which was a modern, ergonomic desk chair, and further on, two occasional chairs opposite. The credenza displayed several antique magnifying glasses and weights, while the walls had framed posters of gems with diagrams for cuts and clarity, both artistic and practical. Filing cabinets took up another wall, a new printer on top.

“Do you have any suspects yet?” asked Laura as she sat down in the desk chair. Solomon and I took the occasional chairs, Dad propped himself against the filing cabinets, and Alan leaned against the wall between us, folding his arms and crossing one ankle over the other.

“With Alan’s help, I’ve whittled down the customers we’ll concentrate on,” said Solomon. “But now, we’d like to know more about the ring that was stolen.”

“Alan tells us you make the purchases,” I added.

“That’s right. The ring was in our vintage section. We have a small display for vintage jewelry and we’re currently carrying a dozen rings of various styles, amongst other pieces, a few necklaces, and a couple of bracelets. Vintage jewelry is a passion of mine but there’s only so much I can buy for myself and sometimes, I see a good piece that isn’t my taste or size but I know will sell. My brother indulges my passion since it’s proven profitable.” She flashed a warm smile at him.

“I hardly call it indulging,” said Alan. “Laura is being modest but the vintage pieces produce a good turnover. She has a great eye and many of our customers want something that has a story attached, or feel it’s more ethical not to buy new.”

“What can you tell us about this particular ring?” I asked.

“It came from a private seller in Europe a little over a month ago,” said Laura. “Family heirloom, now unwanted. They didn’t have a receipt but I wasn’t concerned about that. It’s often unlikely the seller has one if it’s a family heirloom passed down through generations. All kinds of things happen over the years from poor record keeping to fire, water damage, and my least favorite, rats. However, they provided a picture of their mother wearing the ring back in the forties and another photo at a gala in Paris a decade later. Since it was made roughly in the 1930s, the photos were a good indication of how long it’d been in the family.”

“Nothing earlier? Before the 1940s?” I asked.

“Unfortunately not, although photographs are, of course, rarer the further we go back in history and, like I said, record keeping isn’t always possible. I was satisfied with the provenance, and after examining it, I was assured of the ring’s value. It was a stunning, eight carat sapphire, beautifully cut and set, with round-cut diamonds. I paid forty thousand for it, and we listed it for sale at fifty thousand,” said Laura.

“Wow,” said Dad, the only word he’d uttered since we’d entered the room.

“A lot of people hear ‘vintage’ and think ‘cheap’ but I see marketable history. We prepared a sales pack with copies of the photos for the eventual buyer. There’s an online listing too but the sellers’ photos aren’t available there.”

“How soon did you market the ring for sale?” asked Solomon.

“Almost straightaway. It’s a big investment for us. We cleaned it and put it up for sale within the week.”

“Have there been any inquiries? Or anyone asking to try the ring on?” I asked.

“No to the latter, and yes to the former. A woman called last week to ask if we still had it for sale. I remember because I was pleased there was interest. I said we did, told her the same information I just gave you, although it’s all on our website, and also that we would include secure shipping if she chose to pay online. She declined.”

“Did she say why?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. I just told her it would be available as long as the webpage was live. After that, I said it was unlikely we’d secure something similar any time soon. It really is a one-off piece. I was glad to acquire it.”

“What do you remember about the caller?”

“Aside from being a female… American. Young-ish voice. At least, not elderly and not a teenager either. Why? Do you think that’s significant?”

“We’re covering all the angles,” said Solomon. “Did she say where she was calling from?”

“No, but I remember the call came from an international number. It might still be logged. Should I take a look?”

“Please,” said Solomon.

Laura reached for the desk phone and scrolled through the digital panel. “I think this is it,” she said, grasping a pen and notepad. “The number starts with a 49.”

“That’s Germany,” said Solomon.

“Is it?” said Laura.

“Let’s dial it,” said Solomon, holding his hand for the phone. Laura pressed the display and then put it on speakerphone. A moment later, someone answered.

“Guten tag! Hotel Ingrid. Kann ich ihnen helfen?” came a strong male voice.

Solomon deposited the handset back in the cradle without saying anything and contemplated it for a moment. “We’ll make a note of that and see if we come up with a connection to Germany or Hotel Ingrid,” he said.

“So it’s not a dead end?” Laura brightened.

“Not entirely, no.”

“Have you bought anything from the sellers before?” I asked, struck by a new line of thought while Solomon mused over the phone call.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Did they approach you, or you them?”

“They approached me via another contact who knows I have an interest in vintage jewelry. That’s not uncommon,” said Laura.

“I think we should speak to the sellers,” I said. “Can we have their name and number?”

“Of course, but I’m not sure how it helps. They sold the ring fair and square and I made the bank transfer myself.”

“We’re just covering all the angles,” I said.

“Okay, but please be discreet. I don’t want them to think we’re accusing them.” Laura opened her phone, tapped the screen and a moment later, wrote a new number on the notepad. Tearing the sheet off, she passed it to me.

“What’s the next step?” asked Alan.

“I’d like to see the display case where the ring was lifted. I assume it’s just as it was yesterday,” said Solomon, rising. “Understanding where the case is situated and how customers are able to view the items will help us when we review the security footage again.” I got to my feet, and Dad straightened, ready to follow us.

“I’ll take you through to the shop,” said Alan. “Jonathan will be able to help with that.”

“I’ll be here for a while if you think of anything else,” said Laura.

We followed Alan back along the corridor to the shop floor and waited as he disengaged the lock and opened the door. Only Jonathan was inside the shop, buffing the glass display tops with a microfiber cloth, glancing up as we trooped in.

“Jonathan, the investigators would like to talk to you about yesterday,” said Alan.

“Of course.” Jonathan stowed the spray bottle and cloth under the unit that held the cash register, walked around the displays to the right side, and tapped on the glass lid. “The ring was in this case. The vintage section. I’ve been thinking about it and I’m sure the only people I got the case out for yesterday were the old ladies, the deli guy, and the dad. I know those descriptions aren’t helpful but I’m sure I can point them out on the recordings.”

“That could narrow things down significantly,” I said. “We can confirm they were the only customers to see the case through the video playback.”

“That’s what I figured. I could be wrong, of course, but I can’t see how anyone else could have gotten into the case without employee access. No matter what else I was doing, I would have noticed if someone leaned over the counter, picked the lock, and pulled out a display,” said Jonathan. “It’s not an easy or quick thing to do.”

“I have no doubt,” agreed Solomon. “So we’ll work with the theory that the case was open and the jewelry was available to the thief.”

“I feel awful about it,” said Jonathan suddenly. “We’ve had attempted thefts before. Sleight of hand, distractions, but I’ve always spotted them. I feel terrible that I didn’t this time.”

“You’re only human,” said Dad and I nodded in agreement.

“Jonathan, we don’t blame you at all,” said Alan. “Laura and I talked about it. You’ve been here longer than us and we don’t want you to feel under any suspicion.”

“I appreciate your trust in me but still… this was on my watch and such an expensive ring too!” said Jonathan as he unlocked the display and pulled out the tray to place it on top of the glass.

I stepped closer and gazed at the display of vintage rings with all kinds of stones, some engagement style, others cocktail rings, plus, several necklaces, bracelets, and two brooches. “Are they all acquired the same way? Do you ever buy from walk-ins?” I asked.

“No, we’re not a pawn shop and we wouldn’t want to encourage anyone to think we are,” answered Alan. “Laura finds them usually. She’s a big fan of antiquing and has a good eye. Exhibitions are the most expensive since those items are being sold by dealers, and they’ve already done their due diligence, but she also picks them up at estate sales, house clearances, or smaller shops. Sometimes on one of her trips overseas. She likes being able to examine and pick things up and she can often spot a real gem, if you’ll excuse the pun, that the owners have ignored. She’s even purchased some from the internet and online auction sites although that’s a little riskier.”

“Why’s that?”

“To value a stone, it really needs to be in your hand. Anyone can put a picture of anything on the internet or give any kind of description or authentication. You don’t necessarily receive what you think you’ve bought. But Laura has a small network of sellers whom she trusts and they have their own networks to scour.”

“Reynolds’ isn’t a big vintage dealer so Laura only buys a few pieces a year,” added Jonathan.

“What’s the market like for vintage items?” I asked.

“Solid. Like Laura said before, some people like to have an item with history, or be one of a kind, rather than mass produced. The earrings, brooches, bracelets and necklaces are reasonably easy to sell. The downside with the rings is that it can be difficult to resize the bands as the stones can be so delicate, so it’s usually on a wing and a prayer to know if the piece a customer falls in love with will actually fit.”

“What about provenance?” I asked. “Is every piece checked?”

“Laura keeps track of where she finds things, whom she bought it from, how much she paid. Then she authenticates it, decides the retail value, based on current market trends, and gets a second opinion to confirm. Sometimes there’s a maker’s mark, or a style that ties it to a particular era or company like Cartier. Beyond that, it can be hard to pin down who bought the piece originally, and for whom, and how it was passed down unless it comes from a family clearance with paperwork. If there’s scant or no information, like with the missing ring, Laura tries to build up a file.”

“Such as using the photos of the sapphire ring?” I asked.

“That’s right. Sometimes the sellers don’t want people to know they’re selling off family jewels, especially when the item is as distinctive as this ring but she always promises discretion.”

“Why?” asked Solomon.

“We’ve often found sales are due to a change in fortunes. Inherited wealth can disappear with profligate lifestyles and bad investments. Selling off jewels, art, and furniture keeps some old families afloat.”

“Laura said you’re advertising the ring online,” I said. “The sellers don’t mind?”

“We try and remain discreet but they don’t have much recourse regarding what we do with it after they sell it. Plus, with the difference in countries, there’s plausible deniability. Maybe it was their ring, maybe not,” said Alan with a shrug. “We all have access to the shop site but Laura is responsible for adding our inventory.”

“What about any regrets? What happens if the seller wants to buy the piece back?” asked Dad.

Alan shifted his attention to my dad. “Like, I said, we’re not a pawn shop. We’ve never had an issue with any of the pieces Laura buys and she always makes sure to either get a receipt or give one, just in case,” said Alan. “In the instance of this ring, we haven’t had any contact with the sellers since so there’s nothing that indicates they regretted selling it.”

Solomon nodded thoughtfully. “Had anyone made any inquiries in person about it?” he asked.

“Not to me. And I don’t recall any emails or other calls about it either. Laura would have mentioned if there were anyone else. Jonathan?”

“I don’t recall anyone asking,” said Jonathan with a quick shake of his head, “but there’ve been plenty of people through the shop in the past month and I must have lifted this particular tray out multiple times.”

I picked up a delicate silver necklace, the chain interspersed with tiny gemstones while Solomon reached for the matching bracelet. “It’s gorgeous,” I said, turning it over in my hand. “I can’t imagine how you make such a piece.” I set the necklace back on its velvet pillow and Jonathan adjusted the pins holding it in place. Solomon deposited the bracelet.

Jonathan hesitated, then he said, “And the ring please.”

Solomon opened his palm, revealing it empty.

“Oh, c’mon,” said Jonathan, patiently.

This time, Solomon grinned, flicked his fingers, and there was a ring. He handed it to Jonathan who slipped it over a pin, then locked the whole display away under the counter where light fingers couldn’t make fast work.

“That was amazing,” I said. “I didn’t even see you lift it.”

“But he did,” said Solomon, nodding to Jonathan.

“I’ve seen all kinds of tricks and I have a lot of experience,” said Jonathan, a trace of amusement in his eyes at catching Solomon’s trick.

“Which means our thief has even more,” said Solomon.