In a small room next to the auction gallery, Princess Karima watched the activity from behind a large window that appeared to be a mirror in the auction room. Her heavily made-up eyes gleamed darkly as they focused first on Ramtane Tadjer, who was seated in the rear of the auction room, and then the young woman with the strawberry blond hair, seated near the front. She flicked the ash off her cigarette into the porcelain ashtray at her side, then took a long draw of it, before exhaling a plume of smoke through her nostrils.
Who is she? she wondered, although she was certain she knew the answer to her question. She was obviously American, and she was no doubt bidding for a rich American. But who could that American be?
A long, lacquered nail tucked a stray hair into the cream cashmere turban that was wrapped around her head, completely concealing all but an inch or so of black hair at her forehead. She wore it with a deceptively simple but elegant cream cashmere suit from Valentino Couture. Small pearl studs adorned her ears, and a simple gold watch was at her wrist. Otherwise, the princess wore no jewelry. In her lap were black calfskin gloves and a black alligator pocketbook, both from Hermes, and her feet were shod in medium-heeled black alligator pumps. From one hand dangled a pair of large, dark sunglasses in black frames, and in the other was her cigarette.
On one side of her sat Prince Albert de Guermantes, a jewelry specialist with Dufour, who remained quiet but attentive during the auction, his focus on the princess rather than the auction itself. The prince, who despised cigarette smoke, sniffed and shifted in his seat, but endured the princess's noxious fumes. He was there as a representative of the house should the princess have any questions or any special needs. Should she want a drink, for example, the prince would scramble to accommodate her.
On the other side of her sat the Honorable Marcus Setville-Penhurst, a handsome, darkly tanned, and much sought-after bachelor in his forties. Scion of a venerable British family that had managed to hang on to a grand country house, a town house in London, and a fortune in art and antiques—despite the burdens of death duties and taxes—he was one of Princess Karima's most frequent companions, although it was well known among their set that he preferred the company of men after dinner parties had ended and the long dark hours of the night began. He was watching the proceedings without much real interest, thankful that he'd swallowed a two-milligram Xanax before escorting the princess through one of Dufour's rear entrances.
Princess Karima slipped a cell phone out of her alligator bag and flipped it open.
'Who the devil are you calling?' Marcus asked, looking at her.
'Mimi,' she replied without returning his glance. 'I forgot to give her some instructions.' She dialed her housekeeper's number.
'But now?' Marcus said incredulously.
She waved him to silence with a hand. 'Mimi,' she said into the cell phone, 'we'll be going to the country this afternoon. Get everything ready.' She listened a moment, then said, 'No, it won't be long. That jeweler from Jules Levant—you know the one—and a young American woman are bidding against one another. I don't know her. She's attractive, thirtyish, all in black with strawberry blond hair. But I must go. See you soon.' She flipped the phone closed and replaced it in her handbag.
'What the hell does that old hag care about all this?' Marcus asked, staring at her with curiosity.
'Shhhh, cheri,' Princess Karima chided, putting a finger to his lips. 'We must see who gets my emerald ring, mustn't we?'
Allegra desperately wanted to see who was bidding against her but didn't dare take her eyes off the auctioneer. Was it just one person? Two or three? She had no idea, but she kept her paddle high.
'Quarante-huit.'
She held her breath.
'Quarante-neuf.'
The room fell totally silent.
'Cinquante.' The auctioneer surveyed the room over the rims of his half-moon glasses, a serious expression on his face now. Finally his gaze fell on Allegra and rested there.
'Cinquante et un.'
There was a collective gasp; then Allegra heard the hammer fall with an explosive bang on the lectern.
'Vendu!' exclaimed the auctioneer. 'To the young lady in the second row.'
Allegra realized that he was smiling at her from behind the podium. Oh, my God, she thought. I got it. I got it. I got it! She heard the wild applause from the audience and, looking around, saw that all eyes were upon her.
Lowering her paddle, she picked up her shoulder bag, shrugged into her coat, stood up, and, putting a smile on her face, quickly walked up the aisle toward the back of the room, aware of the sea of eyes that still stared at her with curiosity and of the many whispered comments traded behind hands held at mouths. She failed to notice the only person in the room whom she had previously met, and didn't see him leave his seat as she hurried out of the room into the hallway. She had to pick up the ring and get it to the bank right away. In the hallway she pressed the elevator button. Yesterday, she had neglected to ask where the cashier and pickup areas were, but she assumed they were downstairs.
On the ground floor, she went to the information desk. The young blonde, Hermes scarf tied around her neck, looked up at her. 'Mademoiselle?'
'Le caissier?' Allegra asked.
Pointing a finger down a hallway, the young lady replied, 'Down the hallway to the end, then to the left. You can't miss it.'
'Merci,' Allegra replied.
She turned and followed the young lady's directions, aware of the guards and staff staring at her and whispering as the crowd had upstairs. Then she saw the video monitors that were mounted on the walls, televising the auction upstairs.
Aha! So they know I'm the woman who just dropped about sixty-five million bucks on an emerald ring, she thought with amusement.
Turning left where the young lady had indicated, she saw the long mahogany cashier's counter straight ahead. An elderly woman, heavily made- up and with hair dyed a pitch black and pulled back into a bun, looked at her through the thick lenses of her glasses. Her eyes were magnified into huge, almost frightening black saucers. 'Mademoiselle?' she said in acknowledgment, her garish red lipstick clownish in the way it attempted to create lips where there was nothing more than a thin line.
'Lot vingt-quatre,' Allegra said, smiling and trying not to stare.
'Oui, mademoiselle,' the woman said with a nod. 'You wish to pay for it?'
'Oui,' Allegra replied, placing her shoulder bag on the counter. She reached inside it and withdrew the envelope with the check she was to use.
'Un moment.' The woman turned and went to a long counter with an array of computer equipment behind her. Underneath the counter was a lengthy row of filing cabinets. The woman began pushing computer keys, slowly, looking from the keyboard to the monitor with every tap of a key.
Allegra riffled through her shoulder bag for a pen and didn't see the man who had followed her from the auction room. He stood just around the corner of the hallway, his eyes riveted to her back. Her fingers found a pen, and she pulled it out of the bag, then stood patiently waiting while the elderly woman did the necessary paperwork. She didn't know what the total charge would be after the tax and buyer's commission were added.
After what seemed an interminable wait, the old woman turned from the counter with a sheaf of papers and stapled them together in front of Allegra with a heavy pound of her fist. She laid the papers down so that they were facing Allegra. Then with a long, red-lacquered fingernail she tapped at the total amount due at the bottom of the top page.
The amount was so unreal to Allegra that she almost laughed. Instead, she wrote out the check, and handed it to the woman. The woman gave it the briefest of glances, as if she saw checks for such astronomical amounts every day, then looked over at Allegra, her purple-shadowed eyes steely.
'I must call your bank, Mademoiselle Sheridan,' she said, 'to make certain that the funds are available.'
'Of course,' Allegra said agreeably. 'If you ask for Monsieur Lenoir, he can take care of it immediately.'
'I'll only be a moment.' She turned and went down to the end of the counter and through a doorway, closing the door behind her.
Allegra heaved a sigh. She turned and looked around, propping her elbows on the counter behind her. She was glad to see that the pickup area was a short distance down the hallway. Hopefully, she would be finished with her business at Dufour in a few minutes and would be on her way back to the bank.
'Mademoiselle?'
Allegra turned and faced the elderly lady, who held the paperwork and check in liver-spotted hands. 'Yes?' she said.
'Everything is settled,' the woman said. She tore off a copy of the invoice and handed it to Allegra.
Allegra took the invoice from her. 'Merci,' she said, noticing for the first time that the woman wore a ring on nearly every finger, each one of the rings enormous and several of them loose on the woman's aging fingers.
'Oh, I love your rings,' she said, peering at them more closely.
'Merci,' the old woman replied, spreading her hands. 'There were all gifts, cherie. From lovers.' She winked at Allegra conspiratorially, her eyelashes so heavy with mascara as to appear spidery.
Allegra laughed. 'You must've had quite a few.'
'One can never have enough,' the old woman said.
Allegra smiled. 'I guess not,' she said, humoring the woman.
'I know it to be true,' the woman said. She leaned on the counter. 'Now, then,' she said, 'I know you must be in a rush to show off your new bibelot. Pickup is just down that hallway.'
'Merci,' Allegra said.
The old woman nodded. 'Enjoy it, cherie. Life is short.'
Allegra turned and went down the hallway to the pickup counter. There was one man behind the counter, and two or three others in the room behind him, putting together boxes and filling them with various kinds of padding.
The counterman looked at her appraisingly. 'May I help you?' he asked in English.
'Lot vingt-quatre,' she replied, handing the man her invoice.
He looked at it, then looked at her. 'It will only take a moment,' he said. He walked over to a small safe, unlocked it, and searched inside, then withdrew a small box.
Allegra recognized the box immediately. It was the same pinkish beige that Jules Levant Joaillier still used.
The man brought it to the counter and opened it. 'Is this the lot you placed the successful bid on, mademoiselle?'
Allegra glanced down at the ring. The same simple but elegant yellow gold setting, and the same beautiful dark green stone. She took her loupe out of her shoulder bag, then picked up the ring. With her loupe in her eye, she brought the emerald toward it. Expecting nothing out of the ordinary, she was stunned when she saw that the emerald was virtually flawless.
What the hell? she wondered. She looked at it again, closely scrutinizing the stone from various angles. She could only come to one conclusion, and a ripple of fear ran up her spine. This is definitely not the same emerald I was shown at the exhibition. What's going on here? If anything, this stone probably had more intrinsic value than the emerald in Princess Karima's ring. Only its value was a fraction of what Princess Karima's ring was worth because it had not belonged to her.
I can't believe this, she thought.
There was only one thing she could do, and that was protest. 'Monsieur,' she said, taking the loupe from her eye and setting the ring on the counter. 'There has been a mistake.'
'A mistake?' the man said. 'What do you mean, mademoiselle?'
'What I mean,' Allegra said, 'is that this is not the same ring that I saw in the auction preview. This is not Princess Karima's ring. It is not the ring I was bidding on.'
'But that is impossible,' the man replied.
'I want to see an official of Dufour immediately,' Allegra said in a no-nonsense voice. 'Preferably a jewelry expert.'
'Certainly, mademoiselle,' the man said.
'At once,' Allegra emphasized, her brain swirling with questions.
The man picked up a telephone at one end of the counter and dialed a number. 'Monsieur Lorrain,' he said, 'this is Rene in pickup. We have a problem that requires your immediate attention.' He listened for a moment, then replaced the receiver in its cradle. 'Monsieur Lorrain, one of our jewelry specialists, will be down momentarily,' he said.
'Good,' Allegra said. Jesus, she thought. Why did I ever agree to such a harebrained scheme as this? And what in the hell will I tell Hilton Whitehead? Her mind was still swirling with a multitude of questions, and there had better be some answers forthcoming.
'Mademoiselle Sheridan?' A distinguished man of sixty in a handsome chalk-striped suit and gray tie approached her. He extended a hand. 'I am Edmond Lorrain. I understand there's a problem?'
Allegra shook his hand. 'Yes,' she said. 'There has been a mistake. This is not the same emerald that I saw in the preview.'
Monsieur Lorrain shook his head. 'Oh, but you are mistaken, mademoiselle. I don't see how that is possible.' His reply was cool in the extreme.
'I don't know how it is, either, Monsieur Lorrain,' she said, 'but it is true. This is definitely not the same emerald. The setting is identical as far as I can tell, but this is not the same stone.'
'Mademoiselle Sheridan,' he said with the patience of a parent dealing with a recalcitrant child, 'what you are saying makes no sense. Now, why don't you—?'
'It certainly doesn't make any sense,' she said angrily, 'but I am a gemologist, Monsieur Lorrain. With a great deal of experience, I might add, and I won't have my knowledge insulted by you or anyone else when it comes to gemstones.' She pointed at the offending box that held the ring. 'I'm telling you that this is not the same emerald. I will swear in a court of law that it's not. The inclusion that defined Princess Karima's stone is not there.' She looked at him with fiery eyes. Does this pompous ass think I'm an idiot?
'Oh, so you're a gemologist,' he said. 'I see.' He looked at her with interest. 'And you were bidding for yourself, mademoiselle?'
'That's none of your business, Monsieur Lorrain.'
The man swallowed and his face reddened.
'Excuse me,' a man's voice interjected. 'Perhaps I can help?'
They both turned toward the dark, handsome man standing behind them, a smile on his sensuous lips. 'Ah, Mademoiselle Sheridan,' the man said. 'I thought I recognized you.'
Allegra was so surprised to see the handsome jeweler that she stammered, 'Oh, uh, well, it's nice to see you again, too.'
'Monsieur Tadjer,' Lorrain said, offering his hand. 'You know this young lady, I take it?'
'Indeed, I've met the very beautiful and charming Mademoiselle Sheridan,' Ram replied. He turned his attention to Allegra. 'Are you having some sort of difficulty, mademoiselle?'
'I'm here to pick up lot twenty-four,' Allegra replied, relieved by his sudden appearance, 'and the stone in the ring is not the same stone that I saw in the auction preview.'
'I saw the ring at the preview as well,' Ram said. 'What if I take a look? You don't mind, Monsieur Lorrain, do you?'
'Certainly not,' Monsieur Lorrain replied stiffly, 'but I can assure you that Mademoiselle Sheridan must be mistaken. We've never had such a problem here at Dufour.'
Ram removed a loupe from the breast pocket of his suit and picked up the ring. After positioning the loupe in his eye, he brought the emerald up to it, in exactly the same manner Allegra had. After a moment his mild expression became puzzled, and then an angry scowl contorted his features. He removed the loupe. 'This is definitely not the same emerald,' he said, looking at Monsieur Lorrain, his dark eyes flashing. 'It is certainly not Princess Karima's emerald. There is no question about it.'
Monsieur Lorrain looked crestfallen. Under no circumstances could the opinion of Ramtane Tadjer of Jules Levant Joaillier be dismissed. 'I—I can't imagine what has happened,' he said. 'This . . . this ... I— I ... if you'll give me just a moment, allow me to call upstairs to the department.'
'Of course,' Ram said.
Lorrain turned and we
nt through a doorway in the pickup area, closing it behind him.
Ram turned his attention to Allegra. 'It's so lovely to see you again,' he said.
'I'm certainly glad to see you,' she replied. She meant what she said and realized that it wasn't only because of the ring. 'I don't know what's going on here, but this Mr. Lorrain sure isn't in any hurry to admit that Dufour has made a mistake.'
'It is very curious,' Ram replied, delighted with her distress since he could take a part in her rescue. 'But whatever the mistake is, I'm sure that Dufour will rectify it. They have a reputation to protect, after all.'
'What could have happened?' she asked, looking at him quizzically. 'It's ... it's crazy. The stone is so easily identifiable with its inclusion. This makes no sense. Anybody who knows anything about gemstones would be able to tell the difference right away with one glance through a loupe.'
Ram shook his head thoughtfully. 'No, it doesn't make any sense, I agree. It'll be interesting to see what Lorrain has to say.'
'I can't imagine,' Allegra said, still anxious and cross with Monsieur Lorrain's condescending manner.
Ram smiled and took one of her hands in both of his. 'Don't worry,' he said. 'They'll straighten this out. I'm certain of it.'
Allegra was surprised by his familiar gesture, but a frisson of excitement surged through her at the feel of his warm hands on hers. She had to admit that she liked the feeling. It was reassuring and protective, and she could use a little protection right now. She made no move to disengage her hand from his. 'Thanks for your support.'
He gently squeezed her hand, then released it. 'It's nothing. But what a surprise to see you here,' he said. 'And bidding on Princess Karima's most famous ring. You are a very surprising and, I think, clever young woman.' He smiled again. 'You were trying on jewelry in my shop yesterday and didn't even mention that you were here for this auction.'
Allegra was temporarily speechless. 'I... I didn't deliberately mislead you,' she finally said. She wanted to change the subject because she didn't want to explain why she was here or whom she was bidding for. She knew that there was going to be a lot of speculation in the Parisian press concerning the mystery woman who had successfully bid on Princess Karima's ring and whether the ring was for herself or someone else. She wasn't about to explain the circumstances to this man or anyone else. That was up to Hilton Whitehead to do after delivery.
Parisian Affair Page 15
