Sue Grafton - V is for Vengeance

“Certainly.” She reached into her bag and took out a ring box, which she handed him.

He opened the box and found himself looking at a radiant-cut pink diamond, flanked by two white diamonds. “Five carats?”

“Five point four six. The setting is platinum and eighteen-carat gold. The smaller stones total one point seven carats. My husband bought it from a New York dealer several months ago.”

“You know what he paid?”

“A hundred and twenty-five thousand.”

“You have the bill of sale?”

“I don’t have access to it. My husband keeps financial records at the office.”

Dante let that pass, wondering if Channing Vogelsang knew what she was up to. “You mind if I get an outside opinion? I’ve got a gal in the office who’s a trained gemologist.”

“If you like.”

Abbie returned with a tray that held a coffee carafe, two cups and saucers, spoons, and a creamer and a sugar bowl. She placed the tray on the glass-topped coffee table and passed Nora a saucer and cup. Abbie filled hers, being careful not to get the steaming liquid too close to the rim. Nora helped herself to milk from the pitcher while Abbie poured coffee for Dante. Before she left, Dante held out the ring box. “Give this to Lou Elle and have her take a look.”

“Yes, sir.” Abbie left the office with the ring box and closed the door behind her.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said. There was silence while she sipped her coffee. He set his cup aside untouched. “You mind if I ask a few questions?”

She tilted her head in a move that he took as assent.

“The ring was a gift from your husband?”

“Yes.”

“I’m guessing an anniversary. Tenth?”

“Fourteenth. Why do you ask?”

“I’m trying to understand what’s happening here.”

“Nothing complicated,” she said. “I’d prefer the cash.”

“And for this, you’d go behind his back?”

“I’m not going behind his back .”

He lifted one brow. “So he knows you’re doing this?”

“I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

“I’m not trying to be fresh. I’m confused. I thought marriage was about having someone you rely on. Someone you can say anything you want to. No secrets and no holding back. Otherwise what’s the point?”

“This has nothing to do with him. The ring is mine.”

“He won’t notice you’re not wearing it?”

“He knows I don’t care for it. It’s not my style.”

“How much are you asking?”

“Seventy-five.”

Dante watched her face, which was more expressive than she knew. In her life, for some reason, the stakes had gone up. He waited but she didn’t expand. “I’m surprised you’re willing to part with it. No sentiment attached?”

“I’m not comfortable discussing it.”

He smiled. “You want seventy-five grand and it’s not worth a conversation?”

“I didn’t mean it that way. It’s personal.”

He watched her with interest, amused at her refusing to meet his eyes. “Must be very personal to have you salting money away.”

Startled, her gaze came up to his. “What makes you think I’m doing that?”

“Because you sold two other pieces of jewelry. Nothing as pricey as this from what Maurice says.”

“I had no idea he’d discuss it with you. I consider that indiscreet.”

“What, you think there’s a confidentiality clause in a deal like this? Business is business. I figure you’re stockpiling cash and I’m curious.”

She hesitated, not meeting his eyes. “Call it insurance.”

“Mad money.”

“If you like.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

Dante’s phone rang. He reached over to the end table and picked up the handset, saying, “Yes, ma’am.”

Lou Elle said, “Can I see you in my office?”

“Sure thing,” he said and hung up. To Nora, he said, “Would you excuse me? This should only take a minute.”

“Of course.”

He closed the door behind him and proceeded to Lou Elle’s office in the same corridor. She’d been the company comptroller for the past fifteen years. He found her sitting at her desk, the ring box open in one hand. She held it up. “What’s the story?”

“Lady in my office is selling it.”

“How much?”

“Seventy-five. She tells me her husband bought it from a New York dealer for one twenty-five. No bill of sale, but she seems sincere.”

“Guess again. It’s bullshit. The diamond’s flawed. It’s been subjected to a process called clarity enhancement, in which a resinlike material is used to correct imperfections. If he paid one twenty-five, he was robbed.”

“Maybe he didn’t know.”

“Or maybe he paid less and lied to her. The color’s bullshit too. The diamond probably didn’t score well so it’s been irradiated, which gives it the pink tint.”

“We’re still talking five point four six carats.”

“I didn’t say it was junk. I said it wasn’t worth seventy-five.”

He smiled. “How much did I pay for your training?”

She handed him the ring box. “Nineteen thousand for the certification as a gemologist, with an additional thirteen grand for certification in colored stones.”

“Money well spent.”

“At the time, you complained.”

“Shame on me.”

“That’s what I said.”

He put the box in his suit coat pocket and patted the bulge. “Remind me and I’ll give you a bonus at the end of the year.”

“I’d rather have it now.”

“Done,” Dante said. “Give Maurice Berman a call and tell him what you told me.”

When he got back to his office, Nora was standing at one of the circular windows, watching the pedestrians passing on the far side of the street.

“Good for spying purposes,” he said. “Glass looks opaque from the outside, smoke black.”

“I’ve seen the windows from the street. Odd to be seeing them from this side.” She smiled briefly and returned to her seat. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. This was another matter altogether. Nothing to do with you.”

He stopped at his desk and removed a big padded mailer from the bottom drawer and then crossed to the side wall and triggered the panel that concealed his office safe. He shielded the contents of the safe from view while he removed seven thick bundles of hundred-dollar bills bound in packets. He added one smaller bundle and placed all eight in the mailer. He returned to his seat before he gave it to her.

She opened the mailer and glanced at the contents. She seemed startled and the color rose in her cheeks.

“Seventy-five,” he said. “It’s all there.”

“I expected a wire transfer or maybe you’d pay by check.”

“You don’t want seventy-five grand showing up in your bank account. A deposit that size generates a report to the IRS.”

“Is that a problem?”

“I don’t want to create a paper trail that starts with me and ends up with you. I’m under investigation. The IRS finds out you’ve done business with me, they’ll beat a path to your door. You don’t want our association coming to light.”

“There’s nothing illegal about selling a ring.”

“Unless you sell it to a guy the Feds are hot to prosecute.”

“For what? You said you were a private banker.”

“A private banker of sorts .”

She stared at him. “You’re a loan shark.”

“Among other things.”

She held up the bulky mailer. “Where did this come from?”

“I told you. I operate a number of businesses that generate cash. I’m passing some of it on to you.”

“That’s why you didn’t haggle. I said seventy-five and you never batted an eye. You’re laundering money.”