Stumble Stones

by Marilyn Baron

  It was a tearful reunion. His mother had been right. He was the image of his father and, for the first time in his life, he began to feel comfortable in his own skin. Strong and invincible. Fierce and unapologetic.

  His father was no longer living in the house in Dahlem. He’d sold that property and moved on to a more impressive mansion. But he never stopped talking about the lost fortune in diamonds that he believed was or had been in the house. After many years, he had given up on that dream, realizing Julian Hirschfeld must have been telling the truth, that he didn’t have the diamonds in his home that morning he came for the family or that Eva, the woman he thought had been his wife, had most likely stolen them when she left him.

  But Julian’s mother hadn’t mentioned anything about diamonds, and he knew his mother had left the marriage with nothing, that it was his stepfather who had supported the family all these years. Julian reported he knew nothing about any diamonds. They had lived a comfortable life. He was, or had believed he was, the son of a banker, but they didn’t live in a palace or a castle, and they weren’t fabulously wealthy by any standards.

  But, in the back of his mind, he dreamed he would one day find the hidden treasure and keep it for himself. It was his legacy. And he wanted to make his father’s dream come true.

  Julian was happy to know his real father was wealthy, and he had no qualms about going into the very lucrative family import/export business. He learned about the warehouses of goods of questionable provenance that had to be sold to the highest bidder. From his father he learned to appreciate art, not the painting itself, but the value a painting could bring. There was no shortage of masterpieces he could procure for wealthy clients—individuals, art dealers, galleries, auction houses, even museums. Anything from Italian Renaissance—Botticellis, Titians, Tintorettos—and Baroque—Vermeer, Velazquez, and Klimt—to nineteenth century—Renoirs and Van Goghs. The list was endless. Of course, the transactions were not conducted on the open market. They were done in back rooms. On the black market. There was an entire shadow world of commerce to which he, Julian Hoffman, now had an instant entrée.

  He was introduced to the dozens of families who were part of the illicit but profitable and now global network. They had been trading off the misery of Holocaust victims for decades. It was the gift that kept on giving. And, like his father, he saw nothing wrong with the basic premise of the enterprise.

  His father was glad to welcome his son into the family fold, since his generation, once the pride of Germany, was aging and it was time for the sons to inherit. Julian changed his last name to Hoffman and never looked back. Herr Hoffman had never remarried. Julian found a willing Fräulein to warm his bed and cook his meals and bear his children. She was pretty enough to look at, but he didn’t trust her. He didn’t trust any woman. Women were always hiding something, and they were quick to betray. So, if he beat her occasionally, it was only to put her in her place, to keep her in line.

  One day, on the way to visit his grandchildren, the elder Herr Hoffman was run over by a streetcar. Julian was devastated. He lamented the lost years with his father. And he blamed his mother—for everything.

  After the funeral, Julian placed a call to his mother, the first in almost a decade, to report that her husband was dead, so she could make her marriage legitimate by marrying his stepfather. He thought he was being quite generous to legitimize his half-brother and sisters. One day he would make the bastards pay. He’d make them all pay. And he would get his due. He was determined to track down the missing diamonds.

  Chapter Ten

  Alexander

  After dinner and an exhausting but magical tour of St. Petersburg, Alexander opened his laptop but was almost too tired to concentrate.

  He reviewed the day. And the night before. He had been in bed, on top of Hallelujah, ready to take the plunge, so to speak, the next step in their relationship, and, although he detected desire in her eyes, she had stopped him. For some reason, she was hesitant, and he had to respect that. But he was patient, and he was willing to wait for her to love him.

  On the highlight of their tour, their excursion to the world-class Hermitage museum, with its nearly three million priceless works of art and jewelry from the private collections of Czarist nobility, he and Hallelujah had seen splendor everywhere they looked. They’d rushed from room to room to see works by Matisse, Renoir, Van Gogh, Picasso, Titian, and Rembrandt. They couldn’t possibly see every piece of art there was to see. And the real masterpieces weren’t even on the walls. They were the rooms in which the paintings were housed. All the while the diamonds in the suite’s safe had been on his mind. Were they still there? Had someone used their time away from the ship to steal them?

  They’d been impressed with the beautifully painted baroque palaces and gilded domed churches, the Neva River, the stately squares and monuments scattered throughout the spectacular city.

  Tomorrow they would travel outside the city to visit Catherine Palace, with its beautiful blue façade, and the next day they’d see the fountains and pavilions of Peterhof. The cruise was first class, and so were the tours. He was comfortable with Hallelujah. Although he had no first-hand experience with matrimony, he actually felt married, or what he thought it might feel like to be married. Unfortunately, Hallelujah’s marital experience had been a disaster. He was determined to show her another way.

  “Today was lovely,” Hallelujah said. “St. Petersburg is so unexpected. It’s the most amazing place. I’m glad I got to see it. And we have two more nights here.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” Emphasis on the nights.

  They had been on a whirlwind schedule. During the day there were fascinating and exhausting excursions, and at night they’d sampled each of the ship’s gourmet specialty restaurants, listened to bands, comedians, pianists, and watched the talented ensemble of singers and dancers at the nightly extravaganza production shows. They’d had late night snacks, as well as drinks at every opportunity, and had explored almost every inch of the ship. They’d even taken a tour of the galley. He was wearing her out and hopefully wearing her down. If she was overtired, she might not overthink her situation.

  There were a few more stolen kisses that heated up his blood. She’d seemed responsive, but something was holding her back. Perhaps she didn’t quite trust him. Whatever her reasons, she wasn’t quite ready.

  “Have you had any luck in your search?” she asked, twirling a lock of her hair.

  Alexander turned back and tried to focus on his computer and not the nearness of her and her alluring scent. “I’ve been doing some research, and I found out that a man named Franz Hoffman owned my house during the last years of the war and then sold it to a family who owned it before they sold it to me. I did some digging and found that Herr Hoffman was a high-ranking SS officer, a Sturmbannführer, during the war. Quite a nasty fellow. Was never arrested or prosecuted for his crimes. As a matter of fact, they even did a profile of him in a respectable magazine. He died a very wealthy man.”

  Hallelujah observed the screen over Alexander’s shoulder. “How does someone start out in the military during the war and end up one of the wealthiest men in Berlin? I guess all is forgiven if you’re rich.”

  “That’s not as uncommon as you think. A lot of Nazi officers walked off with priceless paintings, jewelry, and property from Jewish families who were ripped from their homes and never returned. The Nazis viewed the belongings of Jews, and their bank accounts, as German property. I can’t imagine he could have prospered as much as he did unless he was up to no good, though. I’m sure he was dirty, but he probably had some powerful friends in high places so he couldn’t be touched. He met with an unfortunate accident a number of years ago—it says here he was struck by a streetcar—so he couldn’t be the one after us. They published a picture taken at his funeral. According to the papers, the mourners were a veritable who’s who of the Nazi regime.

  “I’m going to do some more research about the family that owned t
he house after him. They seemed like a nice family. The husband passed away and the family couldn’t afford to pay the taxes, so they needed to sell in a hurry. I got a break getting into that house and that neighborhood. But somebody who was around during the war knows about those diamonds and knows I have them. I’m not sure it’s just one person. There could be an entire network of people with eyes on that house, just waiting until it was sold to get their hands on what was hidden there.”

  “But if that were true, why didn’t they just buy the house after Herr Hoffman died?”

  “They didn’t have to. They, whoever they are, arranged to rob the house. They didn’t have to go to the expense of buying it. I’m convinced someone has been waiting a long time for this.”

  Hallelujah wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

  “Are you cold?”

  “Just spooked, I guess, to think that someone is lurking around, just waiting for you. Can’t you go to the police?”

  “What if they’re involved?”

  “Then someone else in the government?”

  “I don’t trust them, in this case. We’re talking about a lot of money, and people can easily be bribed.”

  “What if you had been home and not at work when they broke into your house?”

  “I’d have been collateral damage. Whoever it was knows I’m in the habit of working late. They’ve probably been watching my house. I thought it might have been the construction crew that dug up the lockbox from under the stairwell. But they never saw me open the box.”

  Alexander rubbed his mouth and avoided looking at her. “The truth is, they came back and roughed me up a bit. They didn’t want to kill me. They wanted to scare me. It worked.”

  “You never told me that!” Hallelujah exclaimed. “Look at me, Alexander.” He turned to her, and she placed her palm on his face. “Don’t shut me out. We’re in this together. You’ve got to tell me everything. Did they hurt you?”

  “Not much, but that’s when I knew I had to run. I couldn’t depend on the police to protect me.” He covered her hand with his. “It’s nice of you to worry.”

  “I do worry,” she admitted. “I am worried. You said the robbery happened after you had the diamonds appraised. Most likely it was someone from the jewelry store who tipped off the thief.”

  “That makes sense. I’m convinced that’s what triggered recent events. I need to trace the ownership of the jewelry store, track down those possible connections.” His fingers continued to fly across the keys. Suddenly they stopped.

  “What is it? Did you find something?”

  “It may just be a coincidence, but the jewelry store where I took the diamonds to be appraised was once owned by Julian Hirschfeld, before the war.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences,” Hallelujah said. “I think this merits further investigation.”

  “I’m already on it,” Alexander said, continuing to tap away at his keyboard.

  Chapter Eleven

  Julian Hoffman

  “Are you sure you have the name correct? Alexander Stone? And he was the man who brought in the diamonds to be appraised?”

  “Absolutely sure. I’ve never seen diamonds like this in my life. They were large and flawless and brilliantly cut by a master diamond cutter. As a matter of fact, I recognize the mark. It’s a Hirschfeld cut. There have been diamond cutters in his family for generations. He had a royal warrant from the Queen of England. She favored his designs.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s the mark of quality. These diamonds are worth a fortune. I’m positive these are the diamonds your father was looking for. They’re very distinctive. Your father told my father to call him if any Hirschfeld diamonds ever surfaced or came into the store. Hirschfeld used to own this shop. He sold it under duress to my father, a casualty of war.”

  “Did he say where he’d found them?”

  “He’s the new owner of a house in the neighborhood, the house your father used to own in Dahlem. He was doing some remodeling when construction workers unearthed it. He was shocked and wanted to know their value. I think I was more shocked than he, when I saw them. We’re just lucky he brought them into my shop.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That they were priceless.”

  “Well, who is this Stone fellow?”

  “Says he’s some kind of hedge fund manager in Berlin. I gave him an appraisal, and he took them back. I can give you his address.”

  Julian wrote down the address, and thanked his friend, but he already knew the address. It was his father’s old address. The house he should have been raised in. The house he would have inherited if his father hadn’t given up on the diamonds and sold it in favor of a more elegant lifestyle.

  He picked up the phone and issued an order.

  “Yes, I want you to break in. I’ll make it worth your while. Don’t worry about the police. I have that covered. Break down the door with a battering ram if you have to. I need those diamonds before he moves them.”

  He listened and then said, “Try to break in when he’s at work. But if he’s there, get rid of him. Do whatever you want. I don’t care. Just get me the diamonds.”

  ****

  The next day, Julian had paced his office like a caged tiger. “What do you mean they’re not there?”

  “We broke in while he was at work, like you said. We tore the place apart. There were no diamonds there.”

  “If I find out you’re lying…” Julian put the threat out there.

  “I had my best men on it. We left no stone unturned. There are no diamonds in that house. We even went back the next day, even though he had filed a police report. We roughed him up a little, held him at gunpoint. I even put a bullet in the wall. The kid was scared out of his mind. He said the diamonds were in a safe deposit in his bank. He was telling the truth.”

  “Did you bring him to the bank?”

  “No, the situation was too hot. The police had just been there. He told us to meet him at his office the next morning. We left and waited for him at his office, but he never showed up to work. I called the office and his secretary said he had flown to Rome to deliver a speech and then he was taking a personal holiday. I met him at the airport. He hooked up with a woman, and they left together on a motorcycle. I tried to shoot at them, but Stone stole my gun and they got away.”

  “You lost them?”

  “Herr Hoffman, I did the best I could.”

  “Not good enough. I want you to track them down. You have his name. Find out where they went, and bring back those diamonds. He must have them on him. Kill him if you have to. Just get those diamonds.”

  “What about the woman? Do you want me to hurt her?”

  “What do I care about the woman? If he won’t talk, make her talk. Or bring them to me. I’ll make them talk.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Hallelujah and Alexander

  AS THE PLANET SPINS SCRIPT EXTRACT

  BY HALLELUJAH WEISS

  SCENE 4.

  THE LIVING ROOM OF THE WINTRHOP ESTATE.

  PARKER: Polly, I want to start again.

  POLLY: You want a do-over?

  PARKER: Exactly. Like the time you slept with Lance behind my back and I forgave you.

  POLLY: I had amnesia. When I woke up from my coma, I thought Lance and I were still married.

  PARKER: Why do we keep hurting each other?

  POLLY: I wish I knew the answer to that question.

  PARKER: I’ve turned over a new leaf. I promise I won’t cheat.

  POLLY: Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

  PARKER: You have to trust me.

  POLLY: No, that’s the thing, Parker, I don’t trust you.

  PARKER: But you love me.

  POLLY: I wish those feelings weren’t mutually exclusive.

  PARKER: [GRABS POLLY AND KISSES HER] Remember what it felt like when we were happy? We were happy together, Polly.

  POLLY: [BREATHLESS] I can’t stop r
emembering. I keep thinking—

  PARKER: Stop thinking and kiss me, Pollyanna.

  ****

  Hallelujah woke from a deep, drugging sleep, warm and…happy, and tingly, down to her toes. The European down comforter was cozy. She didn’t want to leave the bed, but a rosy light streamed laser-like through the picture window. She’d overslept. Her eyes rose to the mirror on the ceiling.

  Correction. They’d overslept.

  Alexander was wrapped around her like an octopus. He was snoring slightly, and as she moved, he tightened his grip on her. She didn’t know what she thought about that. Had they slept together last night? Hopefully not in the biblical sense. They’d both had too much champagne, but she would have remembered that. He had given her a chaste kiss on the lips in the circular bed, and that’s the last thing she remembered. But now, and there was the evidence right there on the ceiling, they were tangled together, arms and legs intertwined. Apparently, they had turned to each other in the middle of the night and found the position comfortable. Chalk it up to gravitational pull—or the rocking motion of the ship—that had brought them together.

  “Alexander,” she whispered loudly. “Alexander, are you awake?”

  He issued a muffled sound. His mouth was up against her lips, and he shifted and kissed her. She could feel his erection. Apparently he went from zero to sixty on the arousal meter in about two seconds. She had been wearing a sheer negligee, and it was slightly off her shoulder. One breast was exposed, and when his mouth latched on to her nipple, still half asleep, she shivered.

  “Alexander, get off me. I can’t breathe.” She tried to shift away from his body but found herself trapped in the circular bed with a naked man she hardly knew. Well, they were married, but still…

  His mouth moved back to her lips, and she felt him smile, but he didn’t loosen his grip.

  “I’m pretty comfortable at the moment.”

  “I feel like I’m wrapped in a cocoon. I can’t move.”

  He kissed her again gently on the lips and whispered, “I’ve got you just where I want you.”