Shattered Lies
Chapter 40
"We ought to go see Powell," Castle declares in the middle of tearing lettuce for a hastily thrown together dinner salad.
"That old jewel thief? Castle, from what Martha told me, the last time you went to see him he socked you in the jaw. And I was there when he and Martha auctioned you off at the benefit. You're off the block now, Buddy."
"And very grateful I am. The woman who bought me that night kept trying to get her hands down my pants all through our date."
"I don't think you would have minded that at the time."
"Oh come on, Kate. I was already head over heels for you. Why do you think I bought you a Cinderella dress? I couldn't wait to see you in it. But anyway, Powell was helpful on that case. He sent us in the right direction, even if he did have his fun at my expense. He's supposed to be retired, but he can't help keeping up with the business. And he was active when Callie's parents were murdered. If anything was going on then, in the market for gems, he would know about it. We should go after we eat. He still keeps ghost's hours, but he should be awake by the time we get there.
Powell strokes the yet-unshaved white stubble on his jawline. "The Lowells, yes I remember them, Raffi and Clea. They made some nice pieces - not quite in the range my clients were seeking, but exquisite craftsmanship. It is a shame what happened to them. As I recall they were training their daughter, Callie, in the art."
Kate holds out her left hand. "She made this."
Powell's gaze shifts from Kate to Castle, and back again. "Are congratulations in order?"
"To us but not to Callie," Castle replies. "She's dead, murdered."
Powell sighs, shaking his head. "That is unfortunate. Is that why you are seeking my assistance?"
"We suspect that whoever killed her parents, killed Callie," Kate responds, "and we could use your help. Callie believed that someone was using illicitly obtained gems to make jewelry that competed with what her parents turned out and that she died because she was trying to prove it."
Powell runs his hand over his only slightly thinning white mane. "There was a lot of talk at the time of a gang that was targeting pieces with large gems that could be recut and reset so that they would no longer be traceable. It was a travesty, as far as I was concerned. Lovingly created works of such beauty should never be destroyed just to turn a buck. I was always careful to choose clients who would keep the jeweler's art intact."
"So, are you saying that the stones from stolen jewelry could be cut up and used to make new items that could be sold cheaply enough to undersell artists like the Lowells?" Castle queries.
"Mere speculation on my part, my boy," Powell assures him. "I would never sully myself by going near such an operation."
"It is a theory that fits all the facts," Castle persists.
"But if it's true, how would we track the thieves down?" Kate demands.
"If they are still in business, as Callie's sad passing would seem to indicate, the most straightforward way would be to seek out a source of discounted high-end jewelry," Powell suggests. "A young couple in love would be the natural purchasers. Perhaps, Rick, your fiancée could use a necklace? As I recall, Kate looked stunning in Martha's rubies."
"Yes," Castle agrees, "she certainly stunned me."
Jerrold's Gem Galleria is furnished with dark wood chairs and thick carpeting, lending an air of opulence. Kate and Rick are met at the door by a man in a well-tailored vested suit, Italian shoes and who clearly avails himself of the services of a hair stylist rather than a barber. "I'm Harlan Mayfield. What can I show you today?"
Castle takes Kate's left hand and holds it up for the salesman to see. "Well, Harlan, my bride to be wanted this little trinket for our engagement for sentimental reasons, but I think she deserves something more impressive to go with it." He stares appreciatively into Kate's face. "Green would bring out the color of her eyes."
"Not that she needs the enhancement, but they would indeed," Harlan agrees. "Come this way. I believe that we may have just what you're looking for." Harlan leads the way to a locked heavy glass case with necklaces displayed on midnight black velvet. He draws a key from the watch pocket of his vest, and retrieves a necklace made of twisted strands of gold and hung with emeralds.
Castle rubs his hands together. "Just what I had in mind!"
"Would the lady like to try it on?" Harlan offers.
"That would be amazeballs," Kate responds in the ditziest voice she can summon.
Harlan hands the glimmering jewelry to Castle to clasp around Kate's neck. The tip of a triangle of emeralds just brushes her cleavage.
"Perfect!" Castle exclaims, pulling out his titanium card. "We'll take it!" He presses his lips to Kate's temple. "You should wear it home."
"Sure, Baby," Kate responds keeping up her persona.
"Castle, we're not going to keep this, are we?" Kate asks fingering the shiny stones as she slides into the passenger seat of his car.
"Why not," Castle asks, "unless you end up needing it for evidence? Harlan knows his merchandise. It looks incredible on you. I was right; emeralds do bring out your eyes - and complement other parts of you."
"We should show it to Powell right away," Kate decides. "He may be able to figure out where the stones came from."
"Very well, to the master's den we go." He glances at the clock on the dash. "But it's only four o'clock. If we show up at what's this early for him, we'd better stop and get a bottle of Chateauneuf du Pape Beaucastel 1989 to take along as a peace offering."
Powell takes a sip from a crystal goblet. "Rick, as always, your taste in wine is exemplary. And your taste in a gift for Kate is excellent as well, even if the stones were stolen."
"How can you tell?" Castle asks.
"Those emeralds are Columbian in a unique range of color and fire. They have been recut, but I recognize the collection from a piece that was appropriated not long ago from Archambault's wife."
"Archambault, the French president?" Kate asks.
"The same," Powell confirms. "The Archambaults were on a junket to New York. Giselle is a fan of Broadway musicals. The necklace was taken from her as they were leaving the theater by the back door."
Consternation grooves Kate's forehead. "I never heard about it."
"No, you wouldn't have," Powell acknowledges. "Apparently the French were embarrassed that their security was lax enough for the theft to take place. They kept it quiet and Giselle has been wearing a copy ever since. But the story spread through our community. I believe what once adorned France's first lady is now even more attractive on you, Kate, but if you wish, I can recommend a gemologist who can confirm that for you."
"Would that mean we would have to give the necklace back to the Archambaults?" Castle wonders.
Powell raises his glass. "That is a question. It is difficult to return something to an owner who won't admit that it was lost, isn't it?"
Kate's eyes narrow. "If these emeralds belong to the first lady of France, they'll have to be restored to her."
Castle shrugs. "That's what I get for falling in love with a cop."