So eventually, Mrs. P got her diamond necklace, the biggest sale Luce & Fremlin had ever made and due to me. The final cost of the necklace was one million eight hundred thousand dollars.
Mrs. P. and the necklace got a big press coverage. There were photographs of her in the papers wearing the necklace with her husband hovering in the background, looking as if he had bitten into a quince. She showed off the necklace at the Casino, the opera, the Country Club and had a ball. Then a month later one of her closest friends who owned a diamond necklace that I wouldn’t have offered to any of my clients, got knocked over the head and the necklace snatched. The woman never recovered from the attack and had to be taken care of by a nurse.
This attack scared the pants off Mrs. P. who only then realised that her one million, eight-hundred thousand dollar string of diamonds could be a source of lethal danger. She promptly put the necklace in a safe deposit box at her bank and refused to wear it.
All this took place five years ago, and now, according to Sydney, she wanted to sell the necklace.
I knew, as Sydney knew, that during the past three years, Mrs. P. had become a compulsive gambler. Every night she was to be found at the Casino, plunging. Her husband let her gamble because, apart from selling large slices of Florida and putting up skyscrapers wherever there was a space for them, he was a ram. While his wife was spending most of the night gambling he was in the hay with any girl who caught his eye. But Plessington looked after his money, and every so often he would check up on his wife’s gambling debts and crack down on her. Mrs. P. never won. Knowing this background, it wasn’t hard to see that she must now be up to her eyes in secret debt and had decided to sell the necklace before her husband found out what she owed.
‘Larry?’ Sydney’s voice crackled over the line. ‘Are you listening?’
I didn’t give a damn about Mrs. P., the necklace nor come to that, Sydney. Rhea was still burning a hole in my mind.
‘I’m listening,’ I said.
‘For pity’s sake, concentrate, Larry,’ Sydney said urgently. ‘Please... for my sake! You must come back! I can’t imagine what you are doing in that dreadful town! Do say you will come back and help me!’
Again the nudge of destiny. A few minutes ago I was thinking of suicide. If Sydney had wanted me to do anything else except try to resell the Plessington necklace I would have hung up on him. But this necklace, up to now, had been my greatest achievement. I had gained my reputation as one of the top diamond men by creating it.
My depression suddenly went away. My mind worked swiftly. Maybe another change of scene would get Rhea out of my blood, but I wanted a back door through which to escape if the need arose.
‘I’m still not right, Sydney,’ I said. ‘I get headaches and concentration isn’t easy. If I come back and sell you-know-what, will you give me more time off if I need it?’
‘Of course, dear boy! I’ll do more than that. I’ll give you one percent on the take and you can have six months off if you want it. I can’t be fairer than that, can I?’
‘What does she want for it?’
He buzzed like a bee trapped in a bottle again before saying, ‘I haven’t discussed it with her. She’s panting for money. I said I would consult you and you would talk to her.’
Again I hesitated, thinking of Rhea, then I made up my mind.
‘All right. I’ll leave right away. I should be with you the day after tomorrow.’
‘Don’t come by car. Come by air taxi. I’ll pick up the tab,’ Sydney said. ‘You don’t know what a relief this is to me! Let’s have a quiet dinner together. We’ll meet around nine o’clock at La Palma... what do you say?’
La Palma was one of the most expensive and exclusive restaurants in Paradise City. Sydney was certainly anxious to please.
‘It’s a date,’ I said and hung up.
During the two-hour flight back to Paradise City, while I was sitting in the little cabin, a thought like a black snake wriggling into a room slid into my mind.
There are old, fat, stupid creeps in this country worth millions.
Rhea had said that.
Why should I wait to become old, fat and stupid?
Why shouldn’t I become suddenly immensely rich?
I thought of Mrs. P.’s necklace. One million eight hundred thousand dollars! In my position as a top diamond man, knowing the big diamond dealers throughout the world, I was sure I would have no trouble in selling the stones, always providing I was careful. These dealers would jump at anything I had to offer. I had often sold diamonds to them for Sydney, who always wanted to be paid in cash. The dealers never questioned this, as when Sydney bought from them he also paid cash, and — what was important — they accepted my receipt.
By breaking up the necklace, selling the stones to various dealers would present no problem. In my position at Luce & Fremlin I would have no need to worry, as Sydney no longer kept contact with these dealers. He left them to me to handle. They would pay me cash, thinking the money was going to Sydney and I would put the money in a Swiss bank. Disposing of the necklace was the least of my headaches, but stealing it so that no one suspected me was something else.
This seemed to me to be a challenge. Maybe I was useless as a hold-up man and gutless when it came to stealing a car, but this operation of stealing the necklace, although a problem, was, at least, in my neck of the woods.
I spent the next hour as the little plane droned on to Paradise City thinking of ways and means.
I found Sydney sitting in a discreet alcove, toying with a double martini. The maître d’ of La Palma restaurant conducted me to him as if I were a member of a Royal family.
As usual, the restaurant was crowded and I had to pause at several tables where my clients greeted me and asked after my health, but finally I reached the alcove and Sydney gripped my hand.
‘Larry, dear boy, you just don’t know how I appreciate this!’ he gushed and there were tears in his eyes. ‘You don’t look well... you look peaky. How are you? Was the flight a strain? I hate myself for bringing you back here, but you do understand, don’t you?’
‘I’m all right,’ I said. ‘Don’t fuss, Sydney. The flight was fine.’
But he wouldn’t leave it alone. First, he ordered a double dry martini for me, and when the maître d’ had gone he asked questions about my health, what I had been doing with myself and finally if I had missed him.
I was used to his buzzing and finally cut him short.
‘Look, Sydney, let’s get down to business. I’m a little tired, and after dinner I want to go to bed, so don’t let’s waste time about my health.’
The dry martini arrived and Sydney then ordered caviar, a lobster soufflé and champagne.
‘Will that be all right, Larry?’ he asked. ‘It’s light and nourishing and you will sleep well on it.’
I said it would be fine.
‘So she wants to sell the necklace?’ I said when the maître d’ had gone away, snapping his fingers at two waiters to ensure we got top service.
‘She came in yesterday... quivering like a jelly,’ Sydney said. ‘I’ve known the poor thing for years, and she regards me as one of her closest friends. She confessed to me she just had to have a large sum of money and Henry mustn’t know. I thought at first she was going to put the bite on me, and my brain was simply spinning to think of an excuse, but she came right out with it. She had to sell the necklace, and Henry must — repeat — must not know. What would I give her for it?’