Author's Note - Thank you to Cherylann, Paulina, Max2013, and EvergreenDreamweaver for the kind reviews on the start of this tale. Although this is set several years forward from the other stories I'm posting now, I thought I could use a few chapter breather.
Chapter 2
"Gah – You reek!"
Joe slammed the passenger door of the rental sedan as he swung in, scowling. "I love you, too, Frank."
"Yeah, great… just love me from as far over on your half as you can." The elder of the siblings cracked the window on his side, grateful for the biting night air. "What is that, anyway? Lavender water, eau du cigar, daiquiris, and, uh, ben gay?"
Joe couldn't stifle a grunt. "Probably. With a little cold cream and talcum powder thrown in."
"Tell me you didn't …"
"What? Of course not!" Joe scrunched down in the vinyl seat, leaning his head against the upholstered door. "But it got a little closer than I cared for."
A loud laugh shook the car as Frank pulled into the sparse three AM traffic. "Ah, little brother. At least tell me you weren't the one drinking the daiquiris."
"I think they were margaritas and something called a bocce ball, actually. And no, I didn't drink them, or anything else for that matter, I'm working. Although I may have left some very tipsy potted plants digesting some exorbitantly expensive scotch."
"Glad to know you didn't turn into a lush just because you smell like one. Course you also smell like a…"
"If you're interested in ever seeing another sunrise, do not finish that thought." Joe closed his eyes, blocking out the prolonged evening. "Can we just head back to the hotel already?"
"Going as fast as I can get by with now, unless you really want to get pulled over and explain to some nice officer why you smell like you slept with his grandmother…"
"I did not sleep with Millicent Fields."
The blunt delivery caught Frank off guard. "Hey, I was kidding, Joe, you know that."
Joe didn't budge, but a slight frown suggested he was still listening.
"Joe?"
A long sigh followed. "Sorry. It's the middle of the night, I'm exhausted, I've been playing tonsil hockey with the queen of the cougars, and I didn't find what I was after… God, I miss Vanessa."
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The next morning found the younger of the detectives in a posh downtown high rise, looking out over the frosty city. He'd settled into the left of a pair of deep cordovan leather wingback chairs, waiting with all the patience he could muster. Which unfortunately wasn't a lot.
Perusing the oversize desk in front of him provided meager entertainment. A gold-gilt frame encased a portrait of a gray-haired gentleman standing on the front steps of the building with a massive black dog, a magnetic cluster of paperclips on a star shaped base formed a disjointed miniature sculpture, and a leather edged desk calendar covered a sizable portion of the wood surface but had only a single note written on it for a date four days past. 'Milo's four o'clock.' That seemed potentially interesting until a quick phone search identified Milo's as a local dog groomer.
He prodded at the paperclips, achieving a more precarious but taller tower and turned his attention to the remaining desk toy. The seven polished silver balls hung neatly in a horizontal row, waiting for someone to set their predictable clacking in motion. The name of the item escaped him, but Joe had certainly played with these on at least six dozen other desks, including his father's. The only thing unique about this set was their unusual diameter, the typical marble sized spheres replaced with something more akin to golf balls. Shrugging, he pulled the end one to the left as far as he could and let it go.
The resulting clang was much louder than he expected. Joe grabbed at the moving balls, intent on stopping the racket. Probably would have been more successful had he not managed to smash his fingernail between them, eliciting a sharp yelp.
"Oww, ow, ow, ow." Joe stood up to pace, left hand wrapped around his right index finger. "Ow. Good grief, it's a fingernail, not an amputation. Why is it so touchy?"
A faint knock gave him a second's warning before the door opened.
"Did you need something, Mr. Hardy? I thought I heard talking?" The young secretary from the outer office stepped in, tugging slightly at the hem of her sunny yellow peasant blouse. It flowed over a full skirt that seemed to be composed of calico patchwork, resembling an antique quilt more than anything else. Red boots peeked from underneath and a somewhat floppy denim hat topped off the ensemble over a long brown braid, tiny silk sunflowers woven both through the plait and around the brim of the hat. She matched the sleek modern office about as well as aardvark in a tutu would have.
Consciously returning his hands to his sides, Joe shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Thank you."
"I was sure I heard… oh, look at that! What did you do to your hand? Oooh, goodness… I can get ice…"
Joe gave a startled glance at his finger, surprised there was anything to see. His fingernail did have a darkening arc across it, and the tip of the finger was reddened, but for no more than inch at the most. It certainly wasn't impressive, or even noticeable for most people.
"No. No thank you. It's fine. Really." He would prefer to look more composed whenever his client finally arrived. The message summoning him here hadn't been polite.
"Hot tea, then. That helps everything." She was out the door, mumbling under her breath faster than he could decline.
Quickly setting the desk items to order, Joe took a deep breath, wondering about the oddly dressed assistant . Everything here screamed corporate except for her. A family member that didn't have to adhere to the rules, or a temp staff, perhaps? Curious.
Maybe the tea would actually be of some use. The headache he'd been nursing all morning appeared to be picking up steam. He leaned his head backward, closing his eyes.
Flower child, inc. chose that moment to reappear behind him, reaching an old-fashioned china cup and saucer across his shoulder just in time for him to raise his head and send it flying. Hot tea splattered across the desk blotter and the lower half of Joe's shirt and tie.
"OOH! I am so sorry! Oh dear. Sorry! Sorry!" Her apology was accompanied by fluttery hands swatting at the tea droplets remaining on the shirt and rapidly heading southward into his lap.
Joe stood, the tip of his finger no longer the only thing that was flushed red, catching her wrists. "I'm fine. Stop, it's fine. Stop! I'll get it."
She froze, realizing exactly where her hands were, suddenly as red as Joe. "Ahem. I'll, ah, get a towel."
"Fine. Thank you." He stood a little straighter. "Actually, if you could point me toward the restroom?"
"Oh. Of course. Second door on the left side of the hall."
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Joe made an escape, hoping his late meeting partner would find it in his heart to be a little later. He stopped in front of the mirror, leaning on the polished stone counter. The tie was a complete loss. He untied it and laid it on the granite, surveying his shirt. Fortunately, his jacket had been open and was mostly spared. If he could get a few of the higher spots dried out of the shirt, then button the sport coat over the rest, it might not look too bad. As long as he could sit down and hide his pants, anyway. He had spare clothes in the car, but wasn't sure if he had time to get them. Sighing, he took off the shirt, figuring he'd make the best of spot cleaning it here.
"Mr. Hardy? I thought you might want to…" A denim and calico blur spun into the bathroom, waving a white shirt and then coming to an abrupt halt.
"OH! Sorry again! I didn't realize you were, ah.."
Joe counted to five in his head. I will not be angry with Mary Poppins. I will not be angry with Mary Poppins…. "Well, this is the men's room. I wasn't expecting you." As calmly as possible he rezipped his pants and reached for his belt, discarding the handful of paper towels he'd been blotting along his waistband. His shirt, unfortunately, was well out of reach.
"Umm."
"The shirt." Joe pointed at the item in question. "Is that for me?"
"Um, yes. Some of the junior staffers keep spares here. I think this one will fit you."
"Thanks." Joe waited, but she didn't budge. "I can take it from here all by myself."
His hapless helper blushed even more. "Right. Excuse me."
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Ten minutes later he was back in the elegant office, a borrowed manila folder carefully arranged in his lap. He certainly didn't feel composed, but he could fake it. Princess sunshine miraculously was nowhere to be seen, and she'd somehow managed to remove the shattered cup and ruined calendar in the interim.
"I have to say I'm disappointed, Mr. Hardy." The gentleman from the photograph strode into the room, shaking his head, having kept Joe waiting well over an hour.
The young detective shifted in his seat, stifling a frustrated groan. How can you possibly have the post party hangover without any of the night before drinking? Apparently, the horde of monkeys drumming inside his skull didn't understand the necessary connection.
"As am I, but the stone simply wasn't there. Given the other jewelry I found, Millicent Fields has some connection to these robberies, but your diamond remains missing."
"Remains missing is not a phrase I especially want to hear from someone I hired to retrieve my property." The older man in the room leaned against the ostentatious carved desk, tightly crossed arms wrinkling a tailored grey suit that probably cost more than the rental car Joe drove over.
"And I can appreciate that, Mr. Causman. However, this investigation isn't closed and I'm not saying it's a lost cause. This is a status update, nothing more."
"Very well. Perhaps you'll have more useful information tomorrow." Edwin Hubert Causman the Fourth opened the door to his thirtieth-floor corner office, effectively concluding the meeting. "I'll expect you at four."
"I look forward to it." Joe rose gracefully from his chair, shaking the offered hand and conjuring a confident smile. No sense in broadcasting that he thought his employer was a grade A jerk.
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"You going to eat that?" Joe raised his fork, vaguely jabbing toward a cup of pasta salad Frank had banished to the edge of his plate.
"No, go ahead." Frank grinned. "Assuming you still eat anything as plebian as pasta salad."
"I might be able to make due if they're out of caviar – and hey, I just finished off three chili dogs. I am not hung up on fussy highbrow food, no matter how many diamond draped blue hairs I have to wine and dine for this case." Joe shoveled an enormous bite in, barely swallowing before starting to talk again. "Although you could stand to eat a little more, Frank."
"Crud, Joe, you sound like Mom. She's been trying to stuff me since I got home." Frank's smile faded and he made a reluctant search through the bread basket, selecting the smallest slice. He'd been on a solo assignment for weeks and lately he'd been living mainly on coffee. "So, I lost a pound or two. So what?"
Joe plucked a much larger piece of the still warm sour dough and smeared it with butter before shoving it toward his sibling. "Can't keep trading coffee for food. Eat."
"How'd you know I..." Frank broke his sentence off, reluctantly grabbing the bread. "Fine. You're annoying, you know that, right?"
"Of course. It's my job."
"Terrific. What happened to your shirt? That's not the one you left the hotel in."
"Yeah, about that…"
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"Did you know the Star of India is 563 carats?"
Frank rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, groaning. "No. Did you know that it's four seventeen AM?
"Hmm? Oh, yeah. I did." Joe shuffled another piece of paper on the stunted hotel table before squinting at his laptop. The glowing screen provided the only light in the room aside from the partially obscured red numbers emanating from the nightstand. Frank formed a rather amorphous lump in the queen size bed between Joe's chair and the clock.
A lump that had already rolled over, back now to his sibling, the thick comforter yanked over his head.
"It's a sapphire, though. Now the Centenary Diamond is 273.85 carats and flawless… reportedly insured for a hundred million dollars, too. Nobody knows where it is at the moment. It's South African in origin and was on display at the Tower of London for a decade, but it was sold… probably to a collector but DeBeers won't confirm that. The Great Chrysanthemum Diamond is a brown pear shaped modified brilliant cut that measures 104.15 carats in size. Huh, didn't know diamonds came in brown."
"Do I have to care about that right now?"
"Uh, not really but um, grouchy much?" Joe shook his head, aware Frank probably couldn't see it in the dark.
Frank propped up on an elbow, exasperated. "I'm not grouchy. It's four twenty three in the morning, an hour that I got to enjoy with you yesterday too, I might add, and you're talking. Out loud. In my room."
"Sorry. Something's nagging that's all. Go back to sleep."
"Um hmm, already doing that…" The brunette's words trailed off into a drowsy slur as he flopped back down, tugging the pillow over his head this time too.
The Golden Maharaja has an unknown past… The gem made its first modern appearance in 1937 at the Paris World Fair. It was on exhibit at the Museum from 1975 to 1990 when it was sold for 1.3 million…
The Idol's Eye diamond origin is something of a mystery. Many claim it was the eye of an idol or statue from a temple in Benghazi. The diamond was purchased by a Spanish Nobleman who kept it in London. The gemstone remained hidden until after World War II when a Dutch Merchant acquired it and sold it to Harry Winston… resold several times…The Idol's Eye diamond is a triangular old mine cut measuring 70. 21 carats and has a slight bluish color…
The Heart of Eternity diamond is one of the most famous fancy blue diamonds. It came from the premier mine in South Africa which has the largest production of fancy colored diamonds… of the ten highest priced diamond sales, six of them were blue. The Heart of Eternity is the sister stone of the Millennium Star which were both cut from the same stone… The gem is 27.64 carats and is classified as fancy vivid blue.
The Orlov diamond is another old diamond with an exact history that is somewhat sketchy. The diamond was said to be one of the eyes of a religious statue of Lord Ranganatha in the Temple of Srirangam. A deserter from the French army purportedly converted to Hinduism and eventually secured enough trust to be allowed to worship the statue. One night he pried one of the diamond eyes from the statue and escaped with it. The stone made its way to England and after several sales ended up in the possession of Count Grigory Grigorievich Orlov. The count wanted the stone to curry the favor of an old love… who went on to become Catherine the Great of Russia and named the stone after him and had it set into the Imperial Sceptre. The Orlov Diamond measures 189.62 carats.
Joe's eyes blurred slightly as he scanned lines of text on the screen, not sure what he was looking for, but convinced there was something to find. "Somehow there's something here instead of in the case notes. Just not sure what…"
"Joe." Somehow his name came out as a growl. "You have a room of your very own. One floor down from here. Just one. I can draw you a map if you like. Maybe call the concierge to guide you there."
"Oops. You awake again, Frank?"
"Arghh." The elder Hardy rolled toward him with an audible thunk. "Whatever gave you that idea? Forget the map. Your room's under this one. I can just throw you out the window."
"Geeze. I'm just reading." Joe shoved the laptop aside, keeping it open to cast a dim light on the file folder he selected.
The Regent Diamond… according to legend it was discovered by a slave in a diamond mine in 1692 in India. The slave was killed on a ship and the captain took the diamond. It was sold to Thomas Pitt, a well-known merchant trader in India. He finally managed to sell it to Philippe II, Duke of Orleans in 1717. It was set in a Crown for the Coronation of Louis XV and then in another crown for Louis XVI in 1775. He gave it to Marie Antoinette who added it to her jewelry collection. It then found its way into the hands of Napoleon Bonaparte in 1801. It was set into his sword until his death when it was sent to Austria. It was eventually returned to France and was set into the crowns of Louis XVIII, Charles X and Napoleon III. It was then set in a Greek style Diadem crown for Empress Eugenie where it remains today, and is displayed in the Louvre Museum. The diamond measures 140.6 carats and is a cushion style cut. It is white with a slight blue tint in color…
A slave on a ship? Wait…wait, wait, wait, no that's not… right… or…
"Frank?"
"Kill me now."
"Frank? You awake?"
"For the love of God, Joe, yes, I'm awake. Not by choice."
Joe glanced at the clock. Five forty three. "Sorry. You're usually up by six, anyway, though. I'm the one that ought to be whining about the hour…" Joe included a hint of contrition, a hint of humor…
…And it worked. Exhaling a resigned breath, Frank sat up again, flipping on the light and reaching for the pants draped across the foot of the bed. "Whatcha got?"
"Not enough, yet, but in ten hours I'm going to need a plan for telling our high society client that I won't be locating his diamond."
It wasn't like Joe to give up on a case, particularly without a very compelling reason. "Why not?"
"Because it doesn't exist."
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to be continued...