Buch lesen: «The Diamond Secret»

ONE

Somewhere in the Quarter, a lonely saxophone wailed a bluesy tune.

Esther Carlisle listened to the sweet notes hitting the late-afternoon wind, then glanced at the pendulum clock ticking away the seconds behind the counter. Soon all of the clocks would start chiming the top of the hour.

Time to close up shop and go home. Or maybe, go upstairs to the apartment she’d inherited along with this shop after her father had died last year. She’d managed to avoid the apartment for months. But Carlisle Collectibles had become her life lately. Royal Street had always been her street anyway since she’d grown up hanging out here in this big, rambling shop. She knew the shopkeepers, and even the homeless people, by name. And she could set her own antique pendant watch by that saxophone player’s daily schedule. Harold was a war veteran. He slept until the sun started settling behind the buildings then got up to fill the night with notes. His soulful melody merged with the sound of voices carrying out on the street and the honking of horns up on Canal.

He’d probably never understand why Esther prayed for him on a daily basis. But he did seem to understand that she was aware of him, since she often placed dollar bills in his open saxophone case. Her devout father had taught her the golden rule, after all. In return, because Esther tried to be kind to all she met, the rough, quirky crowd in the Quarter watched over her.

“Another quiet summer day in the French Quarter,” she said, the echo of her statement hitting the high rafters and the tall windows to reflect back on her while the clocks kept on tick, tick, ticking all around her.

The pendulums would always swing back. Tomorrow, she’d have some time off to work in her big studio in the Garden District, to create art out of broken pieces of life. One of her sculptures was on display in the front window of the shop. The whimsical piece she called Wasted Time was made from old watches, ancient keys and intricate antique glass doorknobs of various shapes and sizes. It represented missed opportunities and time passing without change.

It also represented her mood these days.

The phone rang, jarring her back to the here and now.

“Esther, how was your day?”

Mr. Reynolds, from next door. He always called to check on her. Especially when he knew her assistant, Ted, wasn’t in.

“I’m good. A slow day here. How about you?”

“A few takers,” the distinguished history buff replied. “Sold a few soldiers. Had a few lookers—one in particular. Bought a nice 1858 Remington revolver.”

“Wow, that’s a true gun buff, Mr. Reynolds.”

They had a friendly competition going since they both carried antique weaponry.

“Yes. He was a very interesting man. Surprised he didn’t come down your way.”

“Nope. I’m about to close.”

Esther hung up, then finished tallying the receipts of the day, worried because she’d had so few visitors. But things would pick up later in the season. Right now, she only wanted to lock up and head home for some dinner and a cup of tea. Maybe she’d read that book she’d found at the bookstore down the way. Or maybe go into the tiny courtyard studio she’d set up out back and work on one of her less complicated pieces. She could go to the potluck supper held in the tiny chapel near her home in the Garden District. Or she could tackle all the papers and unopened mail that had been piling up on her father’s rolltop desk.

Humming “Unforgettable” along with the saxophone, Esther walked up the planked aisle, her footsteps marking time along with the clocks, and pushed at the rickety old glass paneled door.

A hand shoved at the outside knob.

She glanced up to see the silhouette of a tall man wearing a snazzy fedora. A chunky cover of dark bangs hid his eyes, but she didn’t miss the flash of a smile and the gleam of white teeth. “Wait, may I come in?”

Esther stopped, stared, shook her head. “Sorry, I’m closing for the day.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s five o’clock.”

The man stood back to read the sign on the door. “You close at five. It’s five till.”

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Esther stepped back. “Give me a break, will you? I’m tired. I’ll be back tomorrow at nine, I promise.”

He put his arms across his chest, his biceps bulging with authority against his black T-shirt. “Give me a break. I’ve traveled a long way to get here.”

Okay, he had an intriguing accent. Irish maybe? And he did have that whole Indiana Jones thing down pretty good. The fedora was classic and classy and old and worn enough to be endearing. The black T-shirt looked to be made of silk. And the slightly worn khaki cargo pants could have stepped right out of a J. Peterman catalogue. As well as the buttery leather travel satchel swung over his shoulder. His broad, nice-looking shoulder. Which was underneath his interesting, scarred face and ink-washed black hair and those oh-so-gray-blue eyes that seemed to zoom in on Esther. And how could she miss the self-assured grin he wore with all the finesse of a pirate.

An adventurer? A pirate? Or someone pretending to be something he could never be? Like her dear, departed father.

“We’re closed,” she said again. But she didn’t try to shut the door in his face. His bronzed, sun-crinkled, mighty fine-looking face. Was she so pathetic that she’d fall for that face and let him in so he could spend an hour of her precious time walking the aisles in search of something old that he wouldn’t buy anyway?

“I need to ask you a few questions, Miss Carlisle.”

Shocked, she stood her ground. “You know my name. Why don’t I know yours?”

He shot her a swagger of a grin. “Probably because I haven’t properly introduced myself. Cullen Murphy.” He glanced up and down the busy street, intensity misting around him like humidity. “May I please come in? I’ll only be a minute or two.”

“Uh-huh.” She’d heard that before. Collectors, by nature, could never spend a minute or two in an antiques shop. Carlisle Collectibles had a good reputation for carrying the finest antiques, estate jewelry and trinkets, so anyone coming here would want to explore until their heart’s content.

But she wasn’t sure yet about this one. Did he have a heart underneath all that manly ruggedness? Or had she read one too many romance novels?

He didn’t move to leave.

She didn’t move to let him in.

“This is really important,” he finally said, edginess cutting through his voice. “I can’t come back tomorrow.”

“What exactly are you looking for?”

“Who said I was looking for anything?”

“You surely didn’t come here to chat with me, right?”

“Uh, no. Not that that wouldn’t be pleasant. I’d like to talk to you, but I’m kind of in a rush.”

She waited.

“Okay, I need to see your vintage diamond collection.”

That surprised her. “Which one? We have several.”

“Persia. Circa 1500 B.C.”

Something akin to a warning tickled her spine. Esther stepped back a pace and the door creaked open before she could stop it. “That is way vintage. You must be joking.” She hoped so. She didn’t like where her thoughts were taking her.

He was inside before she even blinked. “I can assure you, I’m not.” He immediately started looking over her, around her and through her. “I’ll only take a moment.”

“Yeah, I got that.” With a sigh and a bit of curiosity, she allowed him to stay. But she locked the door and put out the Closed sign anyway.

* * *

Cullen Murphy scanned the big, tastefully cluttered shop that was reputed to be one of the premiere antiques stores in New Orleans, maybe in the South, according to everything he’d heard from Jefferson Carlisle. But Cullen didn’t care about dainty teacups or two-hundred-year-old sideboards. He only had one prize in mind. This woman’s father had hidden that prize and Cullen had to find it before anyone else did. And since he had some very nasty people hot on his trail, now would be a good time.

If he could get past Lady Golden Eyes. She obviously had no clue why he was here. That was good, for her sake, at least. Giving her another covert glance, he noted that behind those granny glasses, she did indeed have golden eyes. And a cute little tulip of a face. Her long hair, tucked back from her face in an oh-so-proper coil at the nape of her kissable neck, sparkled with all the color of rich, shining copper while the scent of jasmine and spice sizzled all around her in an intoxicating cloud.

Why did he have to stop and smell the perfume?

No time for that kind of entertainment, however. He’d prepared himself for getting to know Esther Carlisle, but now he reminded himself he didn’t like emotional entanglements. So…on to the job.

He needed to find that diamond.

“If you could tell me why you’re here, Mr. Murphy…” she said from behind him, that exotic scent making him think of faraway places.

He turned, brusque and to the point. “Cullen, please. I’m an archaeologist and I also enjoy collecting rare jewelry, specifically diamonds.” Thankfully, these days he collected exotic gems the old-fashioned way—legally.

“You did mention diamonds,” she said, hurrying to the long jewelry counter, her every move as tightly coiled as the annoying, whining clocks lining the walls and shelves. “I’ll show you what I have and then, I’m closing. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said, holding out his hand.

She took it, stared at it as if it were a snake and then shook it, her tiny grip surprisingly strong. “You said you’d come a long way?”

“Aye. All the way from Dublin, luv.”

Her catlike eyes widened at that. “Dublin, Ireland. Well, we have a couple of exquisite pieces reputed to be from Persia, very old and amazingly huge, but I don’t think we have anything dating back thirty-five hundred years. Most pieces such as that belong in a museum. Exactly what kind of diamond are you looking for?”

Cullen whirled and took off his hat, then dropped his satchel on the counter. “A chocolate one.”

* * *

Chocolate?

He did mean business. But surely he couldn’t be searching for the one diamond Esther had put out of her mind long ago. Chocolate diamonds, a rich sparkling golden-brown in color, were very rare indeed. Rare and beautiful. Her father had been fascinated with a certain rare chocolate diamond.

Esther pointed to her diamond collection on display in a glass-sealed, secure case. “I don’t know if I have any chocolates. They’re extremely hard to come by.”

While her handsome guest studied the sparkling jewels inside the locked cabinet, she studied him. He was all alpha male, stalking the jewels like a big cat. He seemed to fill the huge vastness of her shop, making everything shrink.

Especially her.

Esther felt tiny and invisible with such raw power crashing into her staid, boring world. The sound of the ticking clocks seemed to vanish into the dusty recesses of the building, only to be replaced with the drum, drum, drumming of his fingers against the double-paned glass. Was she having an incredible dream or was this man really flesh and blood? And could his purpose for being here center on a crazy folktale?

The very folktale that ultimately destroyed her father?

Confused but calm, she blinked and tried to assert her authority. “Can you describe this particular diamond?”

He stared into the lit showcase, the glow from the spotlights causing his dark face to look almost sardonic. Almost.

“It’s close to fifty carats, loose, not set. Rectangular in shape. Possibly a ragged-type rectangle.” He stood to turn toward her. “Have you ever heard of the chocolate diamond that was supposedly a part of the treasure the pirate Lafitte hid somewhere on Barataria Bay?”

Esther’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh, that diamond.” Her worst assumptions had been confirmed. She grew warm. Her pulse beat a rapid path against her temples.

Her father had been obsessed with the stories of the ancient fifty-carat diamond. But he’d never been able to find it. Mainly because he’d never actually searched for it. He’d mostly enjoyed speculating about the myth and the legend of such a jewel, to the point of becoming completely obsessed. And quite ill before he’d died. How could she have forgotten all of his late-night stories and conspiracy theories?

Maybe because she’d blocked a lot of unpleasant memories? She’d certainly tried to put that particular bedtime story away for good. And that was the main reason she’d stayed away from his office upstairs.

“That’d be the one,” Cullen replied, intensity oozing out every pore. He studied her as if expecting her to jump up and down in delight. “I’ve done a lot of research and traced it back to Louisiana. Do you know of it?”

Esther almost giggled, but it was nervous laughter not happiness. “Everyone around here knows of it. But that’s a legend, part of the folklore that swirls around Lafitte.”

“I believe it exists,” Cullen said, his tone serious.

“I can see that,” Esther retorted, tired of this foolishness and determined not to get sucked into the absurd story again. “It might exist, but I can assure you I don’t have it here.” If her father had ever gotten up the gumption to search for the elusive diamond and if he’d found it, she would have known.

“I was told—”

Her heart did a little spin of a warning. “Whoever sent you here was mistaken.”

“Are you sure about that? I mean, this is a very important diamond, a true piece of history.”

“I understand that, but I don’t have it. I’ve read about it, mostly from books and research my father gathered. He enjoyed musing about the diamond. It’s reputed to have possibly been one of the jewels on the garment of one of the high priest from the Twelve Tribes of Israel—the Levi tribe, I believe. In fact, my father called it the Levi-Lafitte Diamond.”

His eyes widened in appreciation. “You do know your stuff. While that has never been substantiated, there was a diamond on the second row of each of the breastplates. This particular chocolate could have been light in color, but still it’s what we now call a chocolate diamond.”

“Thanks,” she said with a tad more sarcasm than she’d intended. Of course, she knew her stuff. Her father had breathed these types of ridiculous tales and he’d often told them to her, always stressing that she shouldn’t repeat his theories. Her father, rest his sweet soul, had always been a speculative dreamer.

And so was the treasure seeker standing beside her. He leaned close, his eyes going velvety dark. “It’s rumored that Lafitte discovered that very diamond in his travels. Maybe stole it from a king or some exotic Persian prince. That’s the last place it was supposedly seen, hence the circa 1500 B.C.”

“And you think I have it because…?”

Cullen turned to stare at her, his fingers still tapping on the glass counter. “Because I knew your father. He was a brilliant historian and also a collector. I corresponded with him a lot before he died. He enjoyed discussing the possibilities of the diamond’s existence.” He paused. “I was sorry to hear of his heart attack.”

Touched, but shocked that this man had known her father and hadn’t told her that right away, Esther looked toward the back of the cavernous building. “Thank you. He got so sick, but he wouldn’t go to the doctor. He died here in the office, late one night.” Esther ignored the shiver moving down her spine.

Cullen glanced toward the door down the aisle. “A few months ago, right?”

“Yes. Back before Christmas of last year. A heart attack.” Why was he staring at her like that? And how did he know so much about her father?

“And you’re sure it was a heart attack?”

Growing more perturbed, she said, “Yes.”

“Did the authorities verify that?”

“Yes. He had a history of heart problems. What are you suggesting?” Esther didn’t want to discuss the details of her father’s sudden death with a stranger. Uneasy, she moved away. “I really need to close up now.”

Cullen glanced toward the front. “Please listen to me. Your father and I corresponded in detail about this diamond. Right before he died, he hinted that he might know its location. He planned to give me the details. But I never heard from him again and then I found out about his death. Did he ever mention anything about this to you?”

Angry now, Esther moved away. “You should have mentioned that you knew my father. But since you didn’t, I’ll fill in the blanks for you. Even though he did extensive research on it, I don’t know anything about this diamond. My father enjoyed theories, but he never actually went about trying to find the chocolate diamond. I think you need to leave, Mr. Murphy.”

She started toward the door.

Cullen grabbed his hat and bag and followed her. “Do you have another showcase? A hidden one? Or a safe where you keep the really good stuff?”

She did. But she wasn’t about to open it up to the likes of him, especially when she didn’t have her assistant here to watch the shop and serve as a protector. Besides, this man was too demanding and nosy. He made her uncomfortable. Chills chased the cold sweat running up and down her backbone.

“I don’t have the diamond you’re searching for,” she said, turning to hold the door open for him. “My father never mentioned finding it, so even if he did discover the diamond, as I said, I don’t have any information on it. I don’t even know if it’s real. I’m sorry you had to come all this way for nothing.”

He didn’t move to leave. “I have some of your father’s letters in my bag. I thought you might like to have them.”

Esther’s heart crashed and thumped. Her father, a faithful man and the only parent she’d ever known since her mother died during Esther’s birth, had made his living here in this dusty old shop, but he’d also had an adventurer’s soul. And yet he’d never traveled afar, because he couldn’t leave this shop or his daughter. Esther knew this, even if Jefferson Carlisle had never once said the words out loud.

She cleared her throat. “He used to read to me every night, grand adventures. Gulliver’s Travels, Sinbad, Homer’s Odyssey, The Three Musketeers, and Treasure Island, of course.” She looked at the battered bag, remembering how he used to call her a princess. A princess who lived in the white swamp. She pushed away the memories. “I would imagine his letters, even if technical, would be very colorful.”

“And very thorough,” Cullen replied. “I had to meet the daughter he loved so much.”

And find a diamond worth millions.

Maybe she had jumped to the wrong conclusion about him. Esther stood there, pondering what to do or say. She wasn’t used to a handsome stranger rushing into her shop, demanding rare fifty-carat diamonds. But she had heard her father mention the Levi-Lafitte Diamond over and over again. And always with that faraway look of adventure and intrigue in his eyes. He’d seemed frantic and obsessed with it in his last few months on earth. What if he had discovered something right before his death but hadn’t had a chance to tell her? Why had he never mentioned Cullen Murphy?

“Maybe you can come back tomorrow. If my father had the diamond or even knowledge of where it might be, he never indicated it to me.” Jefferson Carlisle hadn’t talked much about anything else other than business. Not even to his daughter. Besides, this particular diamond would be worth millions. Why would her father keep something so significant from his only daughter?

Cullen Murphy rocked on his worn boots. “I was hoping I could poke around tonight. If I find the diamond, I’m willing to make a deal with you regarding its worth.”

“I don’t allow poking around in my shop after hours, Mr. Murphy. And if I did have that diamond, it wouldn’t be for sale.”

His eyebrows dipped at that declaration. He put his hands on his hips, his gaze sweeping the shop with the sharpness of an eagle. “It is rather hard to see everything in this growing dusk. But you seem to have some wonderful collections. I’d like to go through those toy soldiers, too. And I see you also have a nice gun collection. I suppose I could come back tomorrow.”

Glad he seemed reasonable, Esther nodded. “We keep the low lights on all night. And the alarm.”

That made him grin. “Warning me against coming back later?”

“Just letting you know I have several security measures.”

He leaned close, his inky eyes swallowing her in a blue haze. “I’m well aware of your security measures.”

He had his nerve. As if she’d let him take a huge hunk of an historical diamond, anyway. A gem that rare and large would be worthy of some serious negotiations. Esther could barter and bargain with the best of them, so if he thought he could fool her, he was badly mistaken.

“Why don’t you come back tomorrow then? My assistant, Ted Dunbar, will be here, so I’ll be able to leave the front and help you. That way, you can spend all day ‘poking around,’ as you put it.”

“Thank you,” Cullen said, a look of relief washing his features. His eyes turned smoky. “It was nice to finally meet you.” He turned to leave then pivoted and dug inside his bag. “Here, the letters. This isn’t all of them, but he mentions you a lot in this batch.” Pulling out a leather pouch tied with a string, he handed it to her. “Your father adored you, you know.”

“I adored him, too.” Esther took the letters, her fingers touching on the leather. “Thank you.”

The bundle smelled of leather and musk. Moved to tears at the thought of reading her father’s words, she stiffened and waited for Cullen to step out, then went to lock the door once again, her brief brush with mystery and intrigue over for now. “I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe.”

But Cullen suddenly shoved his way back in and grabbed her so fast, she spun around like a ballerina in a music box.

Giving him a push, she shouted, “What are you doing?”

He balanced her against his chest. His warm, broad chest. “We have a bit of trouble, luv.”

“Trouble?” Esther couldn’t comprehend what the man was talking about. She was too caught up in the worldly, earthy smell of him and his travel clothes. Heady stuff, this. Rich and dark and spicy—and dangerous.

Cullen kept moving her ahead of him. “Men, two of them. Big, ugly, mean men, coming up the street. I’m pretty sure they have guns.”

That got her attention. She pulled away and quickly locked the door.

Cullen tugged her toward the back before she could set the alarm. “We need to hide.”

“What? Why?” Her voice lifted with each tug of his hand. Clutching tightly to her father’s letters, she asked, “What do they want?”

He shot a covert look over his shoulder. “Me.” Then he whispered close, “Oh, and they might be looking for that diamond, too.”