Diamonds and Daggers

by Nancy Warren

  “And I’ll make sure I’m close by,” Rafe said. “As I believe I’ve told you many times before, Lucy, when you question someone who could be a murderer, you must expect danger.”

  Chapter 14

  I nodded. Maybe at one time I’d believed he was overprotective, but I no longer did.

  I yawned. I hadn’t been sleeping well, for obvious reasons, and it was getting late. Rafe glanced up at me and then said to Theodore, “Let’s go through the rest of these fairly quickly so Lucy can get to bed. After that, you and I will go through each frame and see if we can identify who else Bryce Teddington spoke to, Patricia Beeton spoke to, and the mysterious young woman who didn’t seem to belong there at all.”

  We both agreed—Theodore because he normally did agree with Rafe, and me because I was dying to go to bed. Nothing too startling emerged as we went through the last fifty or so photographs, except that the young woman who had been seen in that first photograph talking to Bryce appeared several more times. Three times she was in the background talking to Bryce Teddington. In one frame, she appeared just behind Patricia Beeton’s right shoulder. Had they just turned apart from an intense conversation? Or was it purely coincidence? She’d spoken to Lord Pevensy, and there was a photograph where Annabel was turning away from her with an irritated expression on her face. I wondered what that was about. Maybe she’d discovered the woman had no business there and was going to throw her out.

  She didn’t seem to be having a good time. I never saw her with a drink in her hand. In fact, her behavior was in every way suspicious. Twice Theodore said, “I wish I could place her. I know I’ve seen her somewhere.”

  I said, “We need somebody who watches a lot of TV who might recognize her.”

  They looked at each other and, as one, said, “Hester.”

  They agreed that Hester would be the next person to see the movie and the stills, but I warned them that they had to do it when Sylvia was nowhere to be found. “Better if Hester comes here. If Sylvia walked in and saw a movie of me wearing these jewels looking so glamorous… I’d rather talk to ten murderers than have to deal with the consequences.”

  I went to bed. I was so tired, I thought I’d drop right off to sleep, but my mind was racing. It was as though I was looking at those photographs all over again. Mostly I saw the jewels in all their very many poses, so clearly the star of the show.

  Gran had tactlessly mentioned them being broken up, and I’d assumed that’s what would happen to them too, but I thought back to Sylvia going to those auctions of pieces she had no intention of buying—well maybe she had, I don’t know—pieces also by Cartier, her favorite jewelry designer. She’d kept the auction programs. Part of the reason she’d kept them was that she liked to collect her favorite designer.

  I sat up in bed. What if the thief was a collector? What if it was one of those obsessed fans who had the kind of money that they could afford to buy something never seen outside their own walls?

  I threw my clothes back on quickly and ran back to the office. Theodore and Rafe were still staring intently at the screen. And I thought in that moment that if anybody or any being could solve this puzzle, it would be them. They were completely focused and intent. And it wasn’t just the thrill of the chase. I knew that they genuinely cared about Sylvia and wanted her to have her property back. Also, they genuinely cared about me and didn’t want me to have my head ripped off or my throat ripped out or whatever Sylvia could do at her worst. I knew that they mostly stayed away from the old ways of feeding, but I hadn’t forgotten that it was Sylvia who had turned my grandmother into a vampire. I knew she’d done it with the best of intentions, but that also meant that she was perfectly willing to fall back on the old ways if need be. I suspected, when consumed with rage, she might also do something she would later regret.

  Naturally they heard me coming and both looked up inquiringly. I told them about Sylvia keeping all those programs, and immediately Theodore looked at me like I’d brought him a bouquet of flowers. “Of course, Lucy. Why didn’t I think of that? I’ll look at all of the purchases in the last fifty years. See if there’s anybody who stands out.”

  Rafe nodded. “And what’s the location of all those pieces? Anyone can use an agent to buy for them. It would be interesting to know where they are.”

  Once more, Theodore made a note in his little book, and as I turned away, Rafe said, “Get William to make you some warm milk.”

  I shook my head. “It’s okay. I have some herbal teas of my own that I packed. I’ll brew up one of those.”

  His face softened into an almost smile. “And have a magical night’s sleep.”

  Exactly.

  The following day, I felt a bit stronger. Theodore and Hester came by, and we sat in Rafe’s gorgeous library.

  The pair had been busy. Between Theodore’s good, old-fashioned legwork and Hester’s computer skills, they had quite a bit of information on what had happened to the jewels designed by Jacques Cartier.

  Theodore explained, “There were three Cartier brothers. Jacques is the one who moved to London. He famously became associated with British royalty and movie stars. He designed jewels for Merle Oberon and Elizabeth Taylor, as well as much of Wallis Simpson’s collection.” He looked at me. “Wallis Simpson, Lucy, was the wife of Edward VIII. Well, he would have been Edward VIII, but he ended up abdicating in order to marry the divorced American.”

  I actually did know this and the scandal that had ensued.

  “Wallis liked the finer things. After she died, most of her jewelry was sold off in 1987. Much of it’s never been seen again. That’s the thing with these iconic jewels; they’re often bought by collectors who keep a very low profile,” Theodore said.

  I nodded. Having had firsthand experience of how dangerous it was to display the things in public, I completely understood. “It’s not like you can wear them to the grocery store or go out to the movies.” I paused and felt like a vise was squeezing my ribs. “You can’t even wear them to a gala event without danger and murder and theft.”

  “You’ve got to stop beating yourself up, Lucy,” Hester said. It was so unlike Hester to be supportive of anyone that my jaw just about dropped. We all looked at her, and she shrugged. “It’s true. Everybody makes mistakes. Lucy’s was just a bit more expensive a mistake than most of them.”

  She had that right.

  “These collectors,” Rafe said, “do you have any way of finding out who they are?”

  Theodore and Hester exchanged a glance. “Most auctions these days are online, of course, but even in the last few decades, it’s been very common for people of note to either send an agent to do the bidding for them or bid over the phone. Elizabeth Taylor famously bought a Cartier piece over the phone while sitting by her pool in Beverly Hills,” Theodore said.

  It was something I could imagine Sylvia doing.

  “And, speaking of Elizabeth Taylor, after her death, her jewels went on sale at auction. In 2011, the auctioneers expected to raise thirty million dollars, but the total that night was more than one hundred and fifteen million dollars,” Hester added. It was obvious she was enjoying helping with the research.

  “That’s a lot of money,” I said faintly.

  “A Cartier set, not unlike Sylvia’s, though made with rubies instead of emeralds, sold for five and a half million,” Hester continued.

  “In 2011.”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think Sylvia’s set would go for today?”

  Theodore looked at me with pity. “Well north of ten million.”

  Oh, dear.

  “Is there any chance that the set might come up for auction?” I knew it was a faint hope, but grasping at straws had become my new pastime.

  Three faces looked at me with disbelief. Theodore finally said, “A reputable dealer like Christie’s or Sotheby’s wouldn’t touch these things. It’s well known that they’ve been stolen.”

  “Sylvia has catalogues from auctions going back fifty
years, more probably, of Cartier pieces that she’d coveted. No doubt she’d bought some of them. Why don’t you ask her for them?”

  He and Rafe both turned to look at me with identical Are you kidding me? expressions.

  “Right. Better not remind Sylvia of what she’s lost. But there’s a reason that Sylvia went to those auctions and not auctions for other jewelry designers. Cartier was her passion. Maybe other collectors have similar passions. I think you should find out who’s been buying these things. Is there one name that keeps coming up?”

  Theodore nodded. “I’ll do some research.”

  “Was it a theft to order?” Rafe asked.

  I felt like I’d found out I had a stalker. Someone who’d followed me for those jewels. The idea made me shudder. “But if that’s true, they had to pull it together in a pretty short amount of time. The gala was only announced a few weeks ago, and did they even publicize that I’d be wearing the jewels?”

  Hester rapidly did a Google search and then shook her head. “The first time it’s mentioned publicly is when they were stolen. I can’t find any mention before the gala.”

  Theodore said, “That would be common practice. Only a fool would make public that such an expensive set of baubles was going to be within reach of any thief who cared to have a go.”

  “And there was security all over the place.”

  “It was a daring heist, I’ll give them that,” Theodore said with what almost sounded like admiration.

  “So where does that leave us?” I asked, feeling more frustrated by the minute.

  “It narrows down the field of plausible thieves quite a bit,” Rafe said. Was he trying to make me feel better? But he didn’t do that. If Rafe said something, he usually genuinely believed it to be true. He said, “It had to be someone who knew about the gala or had heard gossip about it from someone in the production company. Who knew that the jewels would be there that night?”

  Theodore made a note. “People in the production company, certainly, key people in the security company…” He paused to think. “I’ll find that out.”

  “Bryce Teddington must have known,” I said.

  Rafe nodded. “Then, once the thief, whoever it was, knew the stones would be there that night, they had time to put a plan in place.”

  He glanced at Theodore, who nodded. “But the execution was so simple, it could have been carried out in an instant.”

  Which left us no further ahead.

  Chapter 15

  Detective Inspector Ian Chisholm asked to meet me at St. Peter’s College. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I knew he’d be handling the homicide investigation, but somehow I had hoped that I could be kept out of it. Naturally, that wasn’t possible. I thought it was strange that he wanted to meet at the college, but I didn’t want him hanging around the shop scaring away the customers, so I agreed.

  I wasn’t working in the shop very much anyway. Between Violet and the vampires, I was pretty much at loose ends. I loved that they were all trying to protect me from Sylvia’s wrath, but the shop was my purpose, my routine. Not having it left me feeling sort of adrift and with way too much time to sit around feeling both guilty and sorry for myself.

  Nyx didn’t help. My black cat familiar stared at me through green eyes that I felt sure were accusing. Like she was saying, If you were a better witch, you’d have this thing figured out by now.

  I knew, now that I had free time, that I should be doing all kinds of activities I normally didn’t have time for. I could cook, for instance, and fill my freezer with nutritious meals for when I was too busy. I could get a handle on my knitting. That would be an excellent use of my time, considering I ran a knitting shop. It wasn’t that I wasn’t improving. I was. But it did not come naturally to me.

  I had another task that I should be using my free time for, and that was to become more familiar with my athame and start using the ceremonial dagger properly. I’d barely touched it since I’d brought it home.

  I considered all my options, and meeting Ian at the college to walk through a murder actually seemed like a good use of my time.

  I decided to walk to the college. It would take me about twenty minutes, and at least I could chalk that up as exercise. The day was cloudy and cool, so I donned a moss-green sweater over jeans and comfortable, suede walking shoes. I tied my long, blond hair back in a ponytail and set out. I loved Oxford. I especially loved walking through the oldest part, where the ancient colleges had oftentimes been built on top of even older colleges. So much had happened here. The tunnels that the vampires roamed were part of what was basically a city beneath a city. Time had a way of piling up until one civilization was buried and another just carried on over its remains. A bit like the icehouse where Bryce Teddington had been found.

  I tried to shake these somber thoughts as I headed through town, dodging students and tour groups, cyclists and residents.

  When I got to the college, the porter let me in. He was beginning to know my face now. He said, “The copper’s waiting for you,” like he needed to warn me. As though I might enter a free woman and leave in handcuffs. Which maybe I deserved.

  I found DI Chisholm inspecting the open door of that secret cupboard where the ancient chamber pot still sat, while his detective peered at him from the other side of the alcove.

  The director of security stood behind them as though he didn’t quite know what to do. When he saw me, he looked positively relieved. “Lucy. I’m so sorry you should have to come back here again.”

  I felt the same way. But I tried to put him at his ease and tell him it was no bother. At the sound of my voice, Ian closed the cupboard and stood up.

  He nodded his head. “Lucy. I wonder if you could walk us through the events of the other evening. Remembering everything you possibly can.”

  I nodded. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been obsessively reviewing the evening in my mind. No doubt he also had copies of the short movie and all the photographs that had been taken that evening. I went through, once again, every step I’d taken and every person I’d met. And then I told him about Bryce Teddington and his cryptic comments. “He said, where was the director, and something about the budget, and he seemed concerned about the movie stars. I wasn’t quite sure what he was on about, but he kept saying there was no balance. There ought to be balance. And then he got really squirrelly and asked me to meet him in a quiet alcove. He had something important to tell me.”

  Ian was trying to hold on to his impassive cop face, but I knew him quite well. He was looking at me like he couldn’t believe I’d done anything so stupid as to slip down a corridor to meet a virtual stranger while wearing millions of dollars’ worth of jewels. Of course, in retrospect, it’s always easy to see that you did a dumb thing, but at the time, Bryce Teddington had seemed sincere and nervous and just a guy trying to do the right thing.

  And I suppose in that moment, I’d forgotten that I was carrying a fortune in jewels. I’d only wanted to make sure that Sylvia wasn’t getting involved in something that would end badly for her. I didn’t bother telling him all that. It only made me sound even more of a simpleton than I already felt.

  “You agreed to meet him.”

  “Yes. I agreed to meet him down a quiet corridor near the ladies’ room. Or at least I tried to.”

  He nodded. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

  I began to walk him through it. “There was a trolley with a huge hanging container of laundry, pulled up against the wall by the ladies’ washroom. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.”

  “But you’re sure it was there?”

  “I am.” I remembered seeing the laundry because I’d had to step around it. Like so many things, I hadn’t really noticed it at the time, but when I recollected, I had remembered it being there.

  “Did you see anyone pushing it or standing beside it?”

  I shook my head. I’d racked my sore brain trying to recall anyone or anything out of the ordinary. “A woman came out of the lad
ies’ room, but I think she was a waitress.”

  His gaze sharpened at that. “Would you recognize her again?”

  “Maybe.”

  “If you saw a photograph?”

  “I only saw her briefly. I remember the flapper outfit. I’m not sure I really noticed her face.” I hadn’t seen her in any of the photographs of the evening.

  And then I went through again how I had showed up for my appointment with Bryce Teddington and he hadn’t been there and I had been hit over the head and so on, right up until the moment that we’d found Bryce.

  He’d been watching my face intently the whole time I related the ordeal. “Did you think that Bryce Teddington had stolen the jewels?”

  It would be too easy to say yes. And really too easy to say no. I’d felt conflicted. I said, “I thought he was genuinely trying to do the right thing. Did I think that he was maybe a little overanxious? Yes. Did I think he was a crook who was out to steal? No.”

  “And when his body was discovered?”

  “I suppose the easiest solution was that he’d been part of a theft ring and when he’d done his part, they got rid of him.”

  “You don’t sound like you really believe that.”

  I shook my head again. “I think he was a dupe. If my instincts are right, he was a good guy. Somebody overheard us agree to meet and took the opportunity to hit me over the head and steal the jewels.”

  He then got me to walk him through the day that we had found Bryce and then asked the question I’d been asking myself since this happened. “Do you have any idea who might want to steal those jewels?”

  I felt so frustrated I could scream. “No. It’s not like a smash and grab at the local jewelry store. These things are iconic. I’m worried they’ll be broken up and sold as pieces and then Sylvia—” I scrambled to reformulate that sentence and came up with, “And then Sylvia’s memory would be tarnished. People won’t remember her as this amazing actress but somebody whose most famous jewels were stolen. And right out from under my nose,” I concluded bitterly.