Chapter 3 - The Man Behind the Black Suit
Iris took the telephone.
"Hello?"
Breathing.
Then a woman's voice.
"Don't trust anyone named Vale."
Iris looked at Adrian.
Then Preston.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Mara Bell."
Preston closed his eyes.
Iris tightened her grip on the receiver.
"What happened to you?"
"I tried to prove where the diamonds came from."
"Where are you?"
"Not safe."
"Why contact me?"
"Because they did to you exactly what they did to me."
The line crackled.
"Who is they?"
Mara hesitated.
Then said, "Check the clasp."
The call ended.
Iris lowered the phone.
"What does that mean?" Eleanor asked.
Iris was already moving toward the display case.
Adrian followed.
Preston blocked the office door.
"Don't."
Iris stared at him.
"Move."
"You're panicking."
"No. I'm finally asking questions."
Adrian said nothing.
He didn't need to.
Preston moved.
The necklace remained sealed inside its illuminated case.
Iris opened it with Eleanor's key.
She lifted the piece carefully.
The clasp was her own design: a concealed double-lock mechanism beneath a diamond-set platinum shell.
She had assembled it herself.
Except—
"No."
She turned it beneath the light.
There was a scratch.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
Someone had opened the housing after final polishing.
"When was this out of your possession?" Adrian asked.
"Certification. Insurance photography. Tonight's transport."
"Supplier?"
"Before assembly."
She carried the necklace to a worktable.
"Do you have tools?" she asked Eleanor.
Ten minutes later, Iris removed the clasp housing.
Something fell onto the black velvet.
A microSD card.
Nobody spoke.
Preston lunged for it.
Adrian caught his wrist.
The movement was so fast Iris barely saw it.
"Let go," Preston snapped.
Adrian did.
But the card remained on the table.
"Why did you reach for it?" Iris asked.
"I didn't know what it was."
"You knew enough to want it."
Preston's jaw worked.
Eleanor shut the office blinds.
"We need a computer that isn't connected to the gallery network."
Adrian produced a small laptop from one of his men.
Iris looked at him.
"Your bodyguards carry laptops?"
"They're not bodyguards."
"What are they?"
"Tonight? Apparently technical support."
Despite herself, she nearly smiled.
The card contained six folders.
Invoices.
Photographs.
Shipping manifests.
Gemological reports.
And one video.
MARA_BELL_FINAL.
Iris clicked.
A woman appeared.
Mid-thirties.
Dark hair.
Tired eyes.
"If you're watching this," Mara said, "then someone found the necklace I never finished."
Preston turned away.
Mara explained that eight years earlier she had been commissioned to create a diamond collar for a Vale family charity auction.
The stones came from Vale Heritage Imports.
She discovered certification numbers had been altered.
When she confronted management, she was told there had been a clerical error.
Then her studio was burglarized.
The unfinished necklace disappeared.
Her insurance company accused her of negligence.
Clients abandoned her.
She left the city.
"I thought Preston helped me," Mara said on-screen.
Iris stopped breathing.
"He told me he believed me. He said he'd investigate his father's company."
Preston whispered, "Turn it off."
Nobody did.
"But three days later, the police received anonymous records suggesting I had sold three stones privately."
Mara's voice broke.
"I didn't."
Iris stared at Preston.
He wouldn't look at her.
The video continued.
"Years later, I discovered someone had used the same system with other independent designers. Valuable stones went into legitimate commissions. Paperwork was manipulated. When questions came, the designer took the blame."
Adrian's expression became lethal in its stillness.
"My father's company," he said.
Preston snapped, "Our father's company."
"Not anymore."
Mara leaned toward the camera.
"If Iris Dunn ever sees this, tell her I'm sorry. Her name appeared in the records two years ago."
Iris froze.
Two years.
She and Preston had divorced eighteen months ago.
Meaning—
"My name appeared while we were still married."
Preston said nothing.
She looked at him.
"You knew."
"I knew there were discussions."
"What discussions?"
"Your business was struggling."
"So?"
"I was trying to help."
"By putting my name into a diamond laundering operation?"
"I didn't know what it was then!"
Adrian stepped forward.
"When did you know?"
Preston's silence answered.
Iris felt something inside her become very calm.
The same calm that came when a setting cracked under pressure.
Panic ruined metalwork.
You stopped.
You looked.
You found the break.
"Why me?" she asked.
Preston finally looked at her.
"Because you were talented."
The answer hurt more than an insult.
"You knew my work would sell."
"Yes."
"You knew wealthy clients trusted Eleanor."
"Yes."
"And because I was your wife, you had access to my invoices."
He whispered, "Yes."
Eleanor turned away in disgust.
Iris took off her wedding-band-shaped workshop ring, an old habit she had kept after the divorce, and placed it on the table.
"I spent years thinking you didn't believe in me."
Preston's face tightened.
"You were wrong."
"No."
She looked at him.
"You believed in me enough to exploit me."
That landed.
Adrian closed the laptop.
"We need Mara."
"She's been hiding eight years," Eleanor said.
"Then somebody frightened her."
Iris looked at the microSD card.
"She called tonight."
"Which means she's watching," Adrian said.
"Or nearby."
Preston suddenly moved toward the door.
Adrian's men stopped him.
"I'm leaving."
"No," Iris said.
Everyone looked at her.
She surprised herself.
"No more disappearing when questions become uncomfortable."
Preston stared.
"You don't control me."
"No. But the police might want to know why you were inside the electrical corridor during a deliberate blackout."
His face changed.
Good.
Let him feel it.
Adrian's phone buzzed.
He read the message.
"Police are downstairs."
Preston looked alarmed.
"Who called them?"
"I did."
"When?"
"Before the lights came back."
Iris stared at Adrian.
"How?"
"I wasn't entirely pretending to be security."
That almost made her laugh again.
The police interviewed everyone.
The necklace was transferred into evidence with Eleanor's consent.
Iris watched it disappear inside a sealed case.
Nine months of her life.
Gone behind plastic.
Adrian stood beside her.
"You're allowed to be angry."
"I am."
"You look calm."
"That's because if I start screaming, I'm not sure I'll stop."
"Fair."
She looked at him.
"Why were you really here?"
His expression shifted.
"I received information that S-417 would surface tonight."
"You knew something would happen."
"I knew someone connected to the missing stones might attend."
"So you came personally."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Adrian hesitated.
"My mother designed jewelry."
Iris blinked.
"Preston never told me."
"He wouldn't."
"Why?"
"Because she wasn't his mother."
There it was again.
The wound between the brothers.
Adrian explained that Celeste Vale had been their father's second wife.
She had built a small jewelry studio before marrying into wealth.
After her death, their father absorbed her collection into the family holdings.
Adrian suspected some of it had later been sold illegally.
"Your mother made jewelry?"
"Mostly rings."
"Do you have any?"
He touched his right hand.
A simple silver band.
Iris had noticed it earlier.
"My first lesson from her."
"She made that?"
"I did. Badly."
Iris examined it.
"It is slightly terrible."
He looked offended.
"Slightly?"
"The solder seam is a crime."
For the first time, Adrian laughed.
It transformed his face.
Iris forgot for half a second that the evening had collapsed around them.
Then Eleanor approached.
"Police want Preston downtown."
Iris looked toward him.
He was arguing with an officer.
Good.
"Are they arresting him?"
"No. Interviewing."
"That means he'll be home in an hour."
"Probably."
Adrian looked at her.
"You're not going home alone."
"I have locks."
"So did this gallery."
"I can't afford your real rate."
"Four hundred."
She stared.
"What?"
"You already hired me."
"Under false pretenses."
"Technically, the false pretense was mine."
"You are impossible."
"So I've been told."
Eleanor touched Iris's arm.
"Go somewhere safe."
Iris wanted to object.
Instead she looked at the shattered champagne glass still glittering beneath a table.
Someone had planned tonight.
Someone had watched her arrive.
Someone had hidden evidence inside her necklace.
"Fine."
Adrian escorted her to his car.
Not a limousine.
A black sedan.
"Disappointing," she said.
"What?"
"I expected something more dramatic."
"I left the helicopter at home."
She looked at him.
He was joking.
Maybe.
At her apartment building, Adrian inspected the lobby before allowing her out.
"You're taking this bodyguard thing seriously."
"I have professional pride."
They rode upstairs.
Iris unlocked her door.
Nothing looked disturbed.
Then she noticed the light in her studio.
She never left it on.
Adrian moved ahead.
"Iris, stay here."
"No."
"That wasn't a suggestion."
"Neither was my answer."
They entered together.
Her workbench drawers had been opened.
Tools scattered.
Sketches dumped across the floor.
Nothing expensive appeared missing.
Then Iris saw the wall.
Every photograph had been removed except one.
Her wedding photograph with Preston.
Someone had pinned it above the bench with a jeweler's awl.
Across Preston's face was a black X.
Across Iris's was a red circle.
Beneath it lay an envelope.
Adrian opened it with gloves.
Inside was a single photograph.
Mara Bell.
Taken tonight.
Standing across the street from the gallery.
On the back were six words:
SHE KNOWS WHO ORDERED YOUR NECKLACE.
Iris looked toward the window.
Across the street, a woman stood beneath a streetlamp.
Dark hair.
Pale coat.
Mara.
Iris ran toward the door.
By the time she reached the street, the woman was gone.
But something had been left on the hood of Adrian's car.
A small velvet jewelry box.
Iris opened it.
Inside was a diamond ring.
She recognized the workmanship instantly.
Not hers.
Celeste Vale's.
May you like
And beneath it was a note.
ASK ADRIAN WHY HIS MOTHER REALLY DIED.
