Suspicious (On the Run) Read online

  The tenor voice was saying, “…Throckmorton’s assistant was completing her routine check of each display at the exhibit this morning when she discovered the substitution. From the time the Flawless Set arrived here in Rome—when it was authenticated by an independent expert to be the true and rare set of jewels—until this morning, the only person who had full access to the pieces was Signor Throckmorton. He is missing.”

  Jack’s voice cut in sharply, “Missing?”

  “Yes. His hotel room is empty. He is not answering his mobile, and no one has seen him since last night. Where is he?”

  “I have no idea. We were supposed to meet for lunch, but he didn’t show up.”

  “Was that part of the plan?”

  “What plan?”

  “Your plan with Signor Throckmorton to steal the Flawless Set.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.” Jack’s voice had gone to a quiet level that set off alarm bells for Zoe. He only spoke that way when he was angry or upset.

  The other man continued as if Jack had not spoken. “You see, the bracelet in the display case has a complete clasp. It is not broken. The display case has not been opened since last night—we know this because it has a computer sensor attached to it that records all movement, very high tech, is how it is phrased, no? Therefore, a substitution has been made. The real diamond bracelet has been replaced with a fake, as have all the other gems. The necklace, bracelet, and earrings on display this morning are copies. Since the case has not been opened since Signor Throckmorton placed the jewels inside it last night, we must conclude that he made the switch last night during the exhibit opening.”

  “And how could he make the switch with everyone watching him?”

  “Sleight of hand. Even a passable magician can distract. The waiter tripped and dropped his tray. The crash drew everyone’s attention away from the diamonds. Signor Throckmorton palmed the real set and replaced it with the fakes, which he must have had hidden in his sleeves.”

  “But you’re talking about three separate pieces of jewelry—no four, if you count the earrings individually. He couldn’t change out that many separate pieces in a few seconds without someone knowing.”

  “Ah, but there was another disturbance. Remember the ‘accident’ when the worker bumped the display? Perhaps it was no accident? Two interruptions would be plenty of time for him to make the change. None of it—even the earrings were to be displayed hanging. All of it was to rest on the velvet cushions, which would make fast transfers possible. Signor Throckmorton personally arranged for the gems to be displayed in this fashion.”

  Zoe pushed away from the door and hurriedly slipped into her clothes, a pair of white shorts and a lightweight turquoise top. Those accusations were absurd. The idea that someone could switch several pieces of jewelry without anyone noticing was ridiculous. The volume of the voices escalated as she grabbed her towel off the counter to toss it over the towel rack. It caught on her quilted jewelry bag, pulling it off the counter. It hit the tile floor, and her jewelry scattered around her feet.

  As she crouched down to gather up hoop earrings and thin gold chains, she froze, staring at a diamond bracelet that had tumbled from the bag and lay in a sinuous “S” curve on the towel bathmat in front of the shower. The glittering, icy-clear stones sparkled, looking as out of place and foreign as a snake, but still as beautiful and striking as it had last night when she’d looked at it during the exhibit. It was the bracelet from the Flawless Set.

  The tenor voice went up another notch, and Zoe could clearly hear the man say, “Then you won’t object if we have a look around?”

  Zoe scuttled closer to the seam of the door. “Of course not,” Jack said. “But it is ridiculous to even consider that Harrington or Zoe and I could be involved in any way.”

  “And your wife is where?”

  “In the bath. She’ll be out in a moment.”

  A knock on the door caused it to vibrate, and Zoe jumped back, stifling a gasp.

  “Zoe,” Jack said. “We have company. Colonel Alessi from the Carabinieri. There’s been some sort of mix-up.”

  Zoe looked back at the bracelet and licked her lips. “Be right out.” She scrambled around the floor, stuffing her jewelry in the quilted travel bag until the floor was clear except for the diamond bracelet.

  She crawled closer. It couldn’t be the bracelet from the Flawless Set. It just couldn’t. Maybe somehow, someway, an imitation bracelet had gotten in her jewelry bag. She didn’t know how that could happen, but the thought of the bracelet just appearing out of nowhere and now the police were here, talking about missing jewelry…it was just too odd.

  She crouched lower and looked at the bracelet, her nose only inches from the bathmat, and her heart sank. The jewels themselves were dazzling, but it was the clasp that she was fixated on. It was scored and worn and had the ‘R’ inside an oval, just like the clasp on the necklace, and the clasp was broken—just like the piece from the exhibit last night.

  Zoe thudded back on her heels. What was she going to do?

  On the other side of the door, she could hear drawers opening and closing. It wouldn’t be long before they’d insist she come out of the bathroom and let them search. Should she take it out there with her, and say she’d just found it?

  Would the Carabinieri believe her? What if they didn’t? Zoe bit her lip. Worst-case scenario, Jack and she would be carted off to a police station and wrapped up in red tape and probably a jail cell for…well, she didn’t know how long. That didn’t sound like a good plan, but what else could she do? Hide it? From the sounds on the other side of the door, the search was thorough. And then what? Return it—somehow—anonymously?

  They definitely needed time to figure out what do to. Maybe they could go to the American Embassy and have the bracelet returned through official channels. Yes, that sounded much better. At least that way they wouldn’t start out in a jail cell.

  Her gaze darted around, looking for a hiding place, but the bathroom didn’t have cabinets or drawers, just a freestanding counter with a sink, a shower, a towel rack, a toilet, and a bidet. She scrambled to look under the counter, but there were no gaps or ridges where she could place the bracelet. The toilet tank was an old stand-by hiding place that she’d seen used in movies. Surely that was too common and it would be searched. What was left? The shower drain and an air vent were both screwed into place and she wouldn’t be able to get them loose without considerable time and lots of work with a nail file, so those were out.

  “Zoe, you okay?” Jack asked.

  “Yes, fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Her shorts had pockets, but their clothes might be searched as well. She might not have a choice. She might have to turn it over right now. She felt herself breaking out in a cold sweat. She’d been in the position of being under suspicion before, and it wasn’t something she wanted to repeat.

  She scanned the ceiling, saw the light fixture, and was up on the toilet lid before she’d had time to think it through. She couldn’t reach it. She hopped back down, frantically scanning the room. There had to be something—her gaze landed on the travel-size bottle of lotion.

  The bracelet was still on the bathmat. She hesitated a second before picking it up. Touching it seemed like a commitment, a commitment to a path that put them in opposition to the police.

  “Mrs. Andrews,” the tenor voice said, “we request you join us.”

  “Yes. Of course. Sorry.” She quickly unscrewed the cap on the opaque bottle of lotion then used a tissue to pick up the bracelet. She didn’t want even the faintest trace of a fingerprint on the bracelet. It was much heavier than she’d expected. She transferred it to the lotion bottle and was relieved when all the stones slipped easily through the opening. A little lotion oozed over the side as the last diamond went in. Zoe wiped it off, capped the bottle, gave it a few shakes to make sure it was at the bottom and covered by lotion, and then tossed the tissue in the trash. The bottle felt a little heavy
, but she couldn’t do anything about that. She tightened her grip around it for a second, wanting to put it in her pocket, but that would draw attention to it, especially if the police searched her pockets. No, better to leave it in plain sight. She shoved it into the line along the back of the counter with her makeup.

  She massaged the rest of the lotion into her hands then opened the door, and a man nearly fell into the bathroom. He was about Zoe’s height, had a slight build, and his thick eyebrows were drawn together in a scowl that created wrinkles at the bridge of his nose. “Ah, Signora Andrews. Good of you to join us. I am Colonel Alessi.”

  He didn’t extend his hand for Zoe to shake it, so she nodded and moved across the room to join Jack where he stood near the balcony. For someone who didn’t know him, his casual posture of crossed arms as he leaned against the balcony door might have looked relaxed, but Zoe could tell from the glowering look in his eyes that he was furious. “Did you hear what was said?” Jack asked, his voice tight.

  “Enough.”

  A second, younger man accompanied Alessi. He stood up from where he’d been peering under the bed and dusted off his pants. Alessi jerked his head toward the bath, and the young man disappeared through the door.

  “It’s best to let them have their look around,” Jack said. “Then they’ll see we have nothing to hide.”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Zoe said and sent him a warning glance.

  Jack’s didn’t move, but his gaze sharpened on her. He pushed away from the wall. “Since you’ve already searched the balcony, you don’t have any objection to my wife sitting there, do you?” The sentence wasn’t phrased as a question, and Jack was already moving so that Zoe could step outside before Alessi gave a disinterested wave of the hand. He was focused on the award plaque that he’d picked up from the dresser.

  “Do we have something to hide?” he asked in a low voice as she moved by him.

  “Yes,” she breathed. She took a seat and sent a quick, pointed gaze to the bathroom. The shower door clicked as the officer open it, glanced inside, and then closed it. He moved out of their line of sight, and Zoe heard the ceramic toilet tank lid clink as he moved it. Good thing she hadn’t put it in there. More clinking as he replaced the lid. The young officer came into view again, his back to them, as he scanned the counter around the sink. Zoe forced herself to look away, even though she wanted to stare at the lotion bottle.

  She looked at Alessi, who was turning the plaque slowly in his hand, examining each surface. He moved a few steps closer to them and angled it toward the light streaming in through the windows as he ran his thumbnail along the thick edge of the plaque. He glanced at them once, a long measuring glance, then removed a Swiss Army knife from his pocket, extended one of the blades, and inserted it into what looked like a dark thread in the grain of the wood.

  The knife blade twisted, flashing in the sun, and the thin dark line widened into a gap. Alessi worked the knife blade back and forth a few more times, and the gap broadened until he was able to put his thumbs on the edges and pry. The plaque split into two pieces, exposing a foam center with cutouts for a necklace, a bracelet, and two earrings.

  Chapter Four

  Gemma pulled into a slot along the curb across the street from Croftly Jewelers. A dark blue awning shaded the shop’s single front window, which held a display of diamond necklaces and earrings. When she’d met with the informant, he had pushed his long hair back off his face and said, “All I know is me mate said that the guy’s name is Terrance Croftly, and that he’s got a medieval cross that he’s pulling stones out of.”

  A ninth-century jewel-encrusted cross had been stolen from Gilbrand House. Of course the informant hadn’t seen the cross himself and couldn’t describe it.

  “And why would this Terrance Croftly flash around something as distinctive as a medieval cross?” Gemma had asked.

  “He weren’t,” the informant had said. “Me mate, the one who told me about it, saw it by accident. He works the counter, doesn’t usually go in the back. Surprised ’em, I guess.”

  Gemma doubted that was exactly the way it had happened, but regardless, they had the tip.

  The shop looked like the other small-to-medium businesses in London’s diamond district. Gemma tapped the wheel, wishing she could go in as a customer for a quick browse, but that would be a mistake, if she had to go in later undercover.

  She was good undercover. It was how she first connected with the Art Squad. They needed someone who didn’t look or sound like a cop and had pulled her from traffic duty to play the part of a dodgy American dealer anxious to buy a stolen painting. When she met the thieves, her accent and her gender, two things that had often been negatives in her career, worked as assets and had put the criminals at ease. The bust had gone like clockwork. Within a year, she was able to transfer to the Art Squad.

  Gemma returned to the office and pulled everything she could find on Terrance Croftly.

  ***

  Zoe leaned over the table, her gaze locked on Alessi’s face. “I don’t know anything about the plaque, except that Melissa Davray gave it to us at the opening of the exhibit.” The plaque, now encased in a transparent plastic bag, rested on the table between her and Alessi. They were in some sort of police station. Zoe wasn’t even sure if it was a police station or an office of the Carabinieri.

  After Alessi discovered the interior compartment in the plaque, he’d called the younger officer out of the bathroom, which had been a relief for Zoe, but then Alessi had insisted Jack and Zoe come with him and give an official statement. Jack had objected, but Alessi had been firm. They could either come willingly or in handcuffs. Since they didn’t have a choice, they’d gone with him, but Jack had used the cell phone to find a phone number for the American Embassy and had called it while they were on the way. Alessi hadn’t liked that. His frown deepened, but he hadn’t stopped Jack either. Unfortunately, when Jack explained their situation, the American official took down the details and said he would get back to them soon.

  They’d been separated, and Zoe had waited at least an hour in the stuffy room before Alessi threw open the door and placed the plastic bag on the table.

  Zoe rubbed her forehead. “Look, my answers aren’t changing. Your questions aren’t changing. We’ve been over this—many times. We took the plaque back to our hotel room and put it on the dresser. We didn’t examine it or try to pry it open like you did. We just set it down and went on with our sightseeing. Instead of being so interested in Harrington, I’m surprised you’re not asking about Melissa Davray. She was the one who gave it to us.” She considered telling him about Harrington’s theory of a thief in the company, but Alessi’s questions hadn’t gone there yet, and the last thing she wanted to do was give him a new avenue to explore. So far, he was mostly interested in the plaque. And, Harrington himself had admitted that he had no proof of a thief within Millbank and Proust, only a theory.

  She was sure Jack would stick as closely to the truth as possible, but given his recent run-ins with police when he’d been wrongly accused, Zoe was sure he wouldn’t give up the details about Harrington and the real reason for their trip to Rome. If she volunteered the info when Jack hadn’t, it wouldn’t look good for her or Jack. And considering she had stuffed several million dollars’ worth of diamonds into a lotion bottle back at the hotel, she wanted to keep this encounter as short as possible. The less said, the better.

  Alessi said, “Every possibility will be considered, but at this point, you and your husband are a special case. This morning, we received information that you, your husband, and Harrington Throckmorton stole the diamonds. Signor Throckmorton cannot be found, and you and your husband had in your possession a plaque, which you obviously used to remove the diamonds from the exhibit last night, so I’m sure you can understand why we are so interested in you. Tell me, Signora Andrews, was it Signor Throckmorton’s idea? Did he come to you and your husband? Or have you perhaps done this before?”

  Zoe closed her eye
s for a second and fought off the sheer panic that rose inside her. “I’ve told you—there wasn’t any plan to steal anything. Harrington contacted Jack about the award. We didn’t know anything about the plaque being hollow. As I said, we didn’t see it or know about it until Mrs. Davray handed it to us. Harrington only said it was an award. I thought it would be a certificate or something like that.”

  “Ah, but Signora Davray says it was Signor Throckmorton who coordinated everything involved with the plaque. How often were you in contact with him?”

  “Me? Never. He contacted Jack.”

  “And how many times did you meet with him to plan this robbery?”

  Zoe muttered, “It’s like talking to a brick wall.” In her normal voice, she said, “We never met to talk about a robbery.”

  Alessi jumped on her words. “But you said earlier that you met yesterday.”

  “Yes, we met, but—as I also said earlier—we discussed the award.”

  The scowl that seemed to be permanently etched between Alessi’s eyebrows deepened. “It was his suggestion for the company to give you the award and pay for your travel here to Rome. He arranged it all.”

  “But that doesn’t mean he planned to replace the Flawless Set with fakes and smuggle the real ones out in the plaque.” Zoe tapped the plastic bag. “This could be a distraction.”

  Alessi’s frown eased as he leaned back in his chair. “A red herring, you mean? As in a crime novel? No, I am afraid that thieves are rarely as clever in real life as they are in fiction.”

  ***

  After two more rounds of the same questions, Alessi left and a paper with her statement was produced. She signed it and was escorted into a long hallway where a woman barreled out of one of the doors and plowed into Zoe. The woman looked familiar and amid the apologies, Zoe took a closer look and realized it was Melissa Davray. Without her hair coiffed around the diamond-studded combs, it fell flat and straight around her face, which looked plain without the dramatic makeup highlighting her eyes and lips. Her boxy gray suit and plain white shirt were about as far as you could get from the mermaid gown, stylistically speaking.