“If you’ll forgive us,” Stone said, “we’re going to go to Jamie’s office so that Holly and Viv can try on the necklace. Would you like to come?”
“Why torture myself further?” Kate said. “It’s all right, dinner will wait for you.”
Soon, Kate made her exit, and with that, others quickly followed. When the room had emptied of guests, Jamie removed the top of the display case, returned the necklace to its beautifully restored rosewood box, and beckoned for Stone’s group to follow him. He led the way to his office, set the box on his desk, and turned. “Who’s first?”
“I’m not shy,” Viv said, stepping forward.
Jamie removed the necklace from the box and unfastened the clasp; then he stopped. “Wait a minute,” he said. “This is a new clasp, and I didn’t approve that. The old one was working just fine.” He turned his desk lamp toward him and looked more closely at the choker. “Oh, my God,” he said.
Daryl and Annie helped clear the room of glasses and serving pieces, then Annie went to the ladies’ dressing room. Daryl retrieved a plastic container from a pile and emptied the leftover guacamole into it from two serving dishes. He found a paper bag for the container, then went to the dressing room and retrieved his clothes, tossing his uniform into a laundry cart. He met Annie at the exit, where they were both given a cursory frisking for stolen liquor, then allowed to go to the service elevator.
“Everything okay?” Annie whispered.
“Couldn’t be better,” Daryl replied.
Jamie took a loupe from a desk drawer and trained it on the necklace. “It’s a copy,” he said, “and not a very good one.”
“Good enough, apparently,” Stone said.
“Who had access to the piece?” Dino asked, suddenly all cop.
“A number of people, but there was always a security guard present, even when it was being cleaned.”
Stone grabbed Dino’s arm. “Come with me,” he said, and sprinted from the office.
“Where are we going?” Dino asked.
They arrived in the display room, where the other pieces were being taken from their cases to be returned to the vault. Stone hesitated, then ran for the kitchen, bursting through the swinging doors. There was one man present, mopping the floor.
Stone turned and ran toward the foyer, then pressed a button for an elevator.
“Where are we going?” Dino asked again.
“To the service entrance,” Stone replied. “It’s a few doors down the street. Give me your backup piece.”
“Are you kidding me?”
The elevator arrived and Stone dragged Dino into it. “All right, all right,” Dino said. As the car started down, he knelt and yanked a Smith & Wesson Airweight.38 from its ankle holster and handed it to Stone.
“Is it loaded?” Stone asked, flipping open the cylinder.
“It’s not a gun unless it’s loaded,” Dino said, taking a 9mm handgun from under his jacket.
The elevator door opened, and Stone ran out, turning toward the service entrance, with Dino hot behind, clipping his badge to his tuxedo jacket pocket. They halted in front of the service entrance, looking up and down the street. Nobody.
“Who are we looking for?” Dino asked.
“A man — no, a man and a woman. Somebody had to turn off the lights.”
“The lights were off no more than half a minute. You think somebody could lift the necklace and replace it in that time?”
“I wouldn’t have thought so, but somebody did,” Stone said.
The service door opened and a man and a woman stepped out; the man was carrying a paper bag.
“Let me do this,” Dino said, “I’m legal, you’re not.” He stepped up to the couple, who stopped and looked at him uncomprehendingly. “Police,” Dino said. “What’s in the bag?”
“Guacamole,” the man said. “I didn’t steal it — the caterer said I could have the leftovers.”
Stone took the bag from him and weighed it in his hand. “Pretty heavy guacamole,” he said. He handed Dino the bag, then reached over and ripped the mustache from the man’s face. “Look,” he said to Dino, holding it up. “It’s removable. Hi, Daryl.”
Daryl drove a shoulder into Dino, knocking him back into Stone, staggering them both, then he ran like hell, with Annie right after him.
Stone pointed the Airweight at the base of a potted tree on the sidewalk. “Stop!” he yelled, then fired a shot into the tub’s dirt.
“Next one goes into your back!” Dino yelled.
They came to a stop.
Dino’s car pulled up next to them. “Anything I can do, Commissioner?” the driver asked.
“Arrest these two,” Dino said. “Grand theft.”
“Very grand theft,” Stone echoed.
Back in Jamie Niven’s office, Dino put the paper bag on the desk, removed a plastic container from it, and popped off the lid. He took a couple of tissues from a box on the desktop, spread them out, then picked up a letter opener and rummaged around in the guacamole. “If it’s not here, this is going to be very embarrassing.” He stopped, then scooped out the necklace and laid it on the tissues. It looked disgusting. “I believe this is yours,” he said to Jamie.
“No,” Jamie said, pointing at Stone, “it’s his client’s.”
“My client would like it to have a bath,” Stone replied.
60
On the appointed day, Stone sat at his desk and stared at his computer screen, which contained an image of the sale room at Sotheby’s. Jamie Niven was at the lectern, and behind him, projected on a screen, was a detail of Klimt’s Woman in Gold painting, showing a close-up of the necklace.
“And now,” Jamie said, “we have the pièce de résistance of today’s sale — the Bloch-Bauer necklace seen in the Klimt painting behind me.”
The phone on Stone’s desk buzzed, and Joan came on. “Sotheby’s for you.”
Stone pressed the speaker button. “Hello?”
The voice of a young woman. “Is this a customer ready to bid?”
“It is.”
“May I have your customer number, please?”
Stone recited it to her.
“Are you ready to bid?”
“I am.”
“Please confirm that your bidding will be capped at ten million dollars.”
“Confirmed.” Stone could see the young woman as she spoke at a table near Jamie Niven.
“This may be the most famous piece of jewelry in the world,” Jamie was saying. “One of a kind, made by Bijoux Blume of Paris, in 1899. It is very nearly beyond price, but who will offer me five million dollars?”
The bidding began and quickly rose at first, in steps of a million dollars, then half a million.
“I have ten million five hundred thousand dollars,” Jamie said.
Stone’s heart sank.
“Who will bid eleven million?”
The young woman came back on the phone. “Bidder, do you wish to increase your bid?”
Stone gulped. “Eleven million dollars,” he said.
“I have eleven million dollars,” Jamie said. “Anything further?” He raised his gavel. “Last opportunity.” He brought down the gavel. “Sold to a telephone bidder for eleven million dollars!”
The audience in the room burst into applause, and Stone fanned himself with a legal pad while he did some arithmetic. He buzzed Joan.
“Yes?”
“Call my broker and tell him to remove twelve million, six hundred and fifty thousand dollars from my money market account to my checking account.”
“There’s a fax from Sotheby’s coming in now, asking for that amount and giving wiring instructions.”
“Type up a letter to my bank instructing them to wire the funds, and fax it to them.”