The Queen of Diamonds Read online

  My coachmen ignored me as I left the public taxi-carriage veiled and dressed in Madame Biltcliffe's mourning garb. Instead of going into her store, I crossed the street, entering Roman Jewelers. Glass cases displayed fine gems and jewelry in the brightly lit room. An olive-skinned, portly man in his fifties with graying dark brown hair sat behind a desk in the room beyond.

  A shop maid stood behind the counter. "May I help you?"

  "I'm here to see Mr. Roman on a business matter."

  Mr. Roman took one look at me and put down his pen. "Come right this way." He ushered me into his office, turned to a black wooden file cabinet trimmed in brass, and took out a folder. "I'm so sorry for your loss, mum. Here is our standard estate sale packet. It has forms to inventory the jewelry you wish to sell —"

  "I'm sorry, but I'm not here to discuss an estate sale."

  He gave me a chagrined look. "My apologies! Please, take a seat." I sat across from him while he closed the door and took his seat behind the desk. "What can I do for you?"

  "I'm here on behalf of Dame Anastasia Louis —"

  At her name, the man paled, then rose, drawing away from me. "Who are you? What's your name?"

  "I can give you a name, but it wouldn't be my real one. Why do you think I came here veiled? Please, sit. I bear you no malice; I'm not with the police. I'm investigating this matter and only wish to ask a few questions."

  He gave me a quick appraisal then sat, the color slowly returning to his face. "Very well. What do you wish to know?"

  "I know the reason you gave Mr. Pike as to why you aren't paying your debts. But I had some further questions."

  He nodded, his eyes taking on an evaluating look.

  "Did Dame Anastasia make any claims as to the use or benefit of these gems when she sold them to you?"

  "She did." He reached into a drawer.

  I felt for my pistol in its calf holster, but he produced a flyer:

  THE MIRACLE GEM

  Dug from the earth

  Blessed by the sacred healing mineral springs of Old Montana

  Cut and polished by master craftsmen

  Benefits physician-certified

  A long list of various colored gems and their uses proceeded forth. The flyer also contained a description of various elixirs, oils, and creams using these gems, "for milder cases", at a lower price.

  "How many gems did you contract for?"

  "One of each, so that I might see their uses for myself. I asked for a trial period, which she agreed to, then gave them a fair trial with myself, family members, and friends. None experienced any benefit whatsoever, even when used as directed."

  This seemed odd, especially in light of the article in the Bridges Daily. And the gems were certified by this Doctor. Could all these men be mistaken? "Why didn't you return the gems?"

  "I tried to a week ago. The clerk told me this wasn't acceptable, that I must pay for the use of the gems since I did not pay on delivery. When I protested, her guards escorted me out. A man came to my home that night and said —" His face turned red, and he looked away. "She's obtained information on a matter I don't wish to become public. This man threatened to use it against me should I speak of this or go to the police. But I no longer care. Tell her what you will. I refuse to pay for worthless gems. If she lies on their usefulness, what else has she lied about?"

  What indeed.

  Mr. Roman said, "What are you going to tell her?"

  "I? Nothing as yet. For you see, she has paid me in gems."

  The man nodded. "Ah. Bring them to me. I'll be glad to appraise them for you, at no charge."

  The thought of Anastasia forging her signature diamond necklace was ludicrous. "Who was this man?"

  "He didn't say. A Diamond man, dressed entirely in white."

  Jack Diamond? In downtown Spadros? How could he have come here?

  "I do have a question," Mr. Roman said. "Why would you, of all people, work for her?"

  I blinked in alarm. "What did you say?"

  "You don't stay alive as long as I have in this city without being able to see who people are behind their masks and veils. You're a young woman, in no grief, yet veiled as in mourning. You carry yourself as an upper, yet your voice is roughened by tobacco and you smell of alcohol. Even if I didn't recognize you by that, and the dress of my friend across the way —"

  I stared at him, shocked.

  "— I would know the ring you wear anywhere —"

  I peered at my hand, in its glove, the outline of the ring plain.

  "— seeing as I made it." He smiled to himself. "Well, I suppose helping a neighbor is as good a reason as any." He paused. "Don't worry, my dear, no one will know you were here."

  I felt relieved. "Thank you very much, sir. I'm sorry to have alarmed you." A thought struck me. "Why did you not tell my husband of this ... Diamond man?"

  He gave me a slight smile. "But I did."

  No wonder Tony was so upset at having Jonathan and Gardena Diamond to our home.

  I walked a block down, crossed the street, into the alleyway, and up to Madame Biltcliffe's back door. But after I gave Madame her dress back, I didn't change into my own. I had one more place to visit: Anastasia's factory, where the gems were being cut and polished. Fortunately, Madame allowed me to use Tenni as a decoy for a while longer.

  I wanted to learn how this all worked, why her costs were so high. I wanted some evidence that she told me the truth.

  The factory was in the Spadros quadrant, a large brown building with "Manufacturing Associates" on the front door. Lights blazed on every floor, and armed men stood watch at every entrance. Horse-drawn trucks came and went, workers carried boxes to and fro. I stood across the street, trying to decide how to approach this. If I asked for Anastasia dressed in Tenni's shop maid uniform, they would surely ask my name. Perhaps I would try another tactic.

  I walked across the street and approached a man counting boxes. "Sir, do you know if they're hiring?"

  "I'm sorry, miss, I don't know. Just making a delivery."

  I went past a guard to the front desk where a young man stood behind a counter. He was corpulent, with big ears and a bigger nose, hair greasy, skin pock-marked, with thick round spectacles, but he stood as if he owned the place. Perfect for what I had in mind. I went to him and curtsied. "I was wondering, sir, if you're hiring here."

  He gave me a self-important smile. "No, miss, sorry. This factory is set to close soon. We're just finishing up the last of the orders. Only a few days yet to go and then we'll close, and maybe a day to tidy up. We have all the help we need right now. But my, aren't you a sweet one for asking."

  I gave him the smile my Ma taught me to use when you're buttering up a mark. "What all do they do here? It seems so busy to be closing."

  His cheeks reddened, and he stood straighter. "Well, we make gemstones. Gorgeous ones, best in the city. The exact replicas of any sort of gemstone imaginable. It's truly amazing what scientific achievement can do these days. You can't tell the difference between them and the ones dug from the ground."

  I didn't have to feign surprise. "Really? That must be so expensive. And difficult!"

  "Not at all," he said. "We have a special patented process. In fact, no one I know of has even thought of creating gems in this way. It's a true miracle." He glanced around, then leaned his arms on the counter. "Do you want to see?"

  I gazed in his eyes in rapt anticipation. "Oh, I would love to!"

  I took his arm, which smelled of sardines, and held it snug. He brought me to a room with boxes of paper masks and hair covers. We put them on, and thin white coats which tied. "This keeps the gem dust from our clothes and lungs," he said with a tone of authority. Then he handed me goggles, which I put on.

  I giggled. "This is fun!"

  He escorted me around the factory, hardly taking a breath between sentences as he explained every detail of the process. Even if I wanted to speak, I couldn't have.

  But I truly didn't want to: I felt amazed at
the display before me. Huge machines held bubbling liquids, and extruded bars of clear material, which went to cutters and polishers. Beautiful cut gems of all colors came out the other end.

  I smiled up at him. "This is so wonderful!"

  "Hey!" A middle aged man pointed at us. "You there. You aren't allowed here on the floor."

  "Yes, sir," the young man said. Then he turned to me. "He's a right bear, he is. But no worry; he can't do a thing to us. Let's go back out."

  We took off our goggles, hats, coats and masks, and he escorted me outside in the courtyard.

  I gazed up at him. "Oh, it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I hope you won't catch trouble?"

  "No, no. He can't do anything to me," the young man said, with much bravado. "He has no real power; he's just jealous that you're with me. Some men can't get a woman, and they have a fierce hatred and jealousy for anyone who can. But the real reason he can't touch me is that I'm related to the owner. She's my great-aunt, Dame Anastasia Louis herself."

  I made my eyes wide as a schoolgirl. "Really? You're an important man, then."

  He grinned, as if to a small child. "I am." He put his arm round me. "She's going to make me famous, she said, teach me everything she knows. Did you know she was a famous actress? She did a show that was the talk of the town. Played the Queen of Diamonds, because she was the understudy and the woman who played the part suddenly took terribly ill and later died! Her role was controversial. It was quite the scandal back then, seeing as she was an aristocrat and all — and she didn't look the part, she had to wear special makeup, but she didn't care. From all accounts, she performed magnificently! Even the President of the Feds came to see her at the show in Hub! What an honor for our family."

  What an idiot you are. I snuggled up beside him, there with workers going all around us, and gazed up at him with wide trusting eyes. "There's one thing I don't understand, though. Doesn't making gemstones cost a terrible large amount?"

  "Oh, not at all! It's fairly amazing; each gem costs us less than a penny, once you factor in the materials, the shipping them in, the labor. And then last week the price was $10 each!" He laughed. "And then you know all the elixirs and such?"

  I nodded, lips parted, as if I had never heard such wisdom.

  "They sweep the floor every night, and all that gem dust gets washed and separated out, and it goes into the next day's mix. Costs us nothing extra!"

  "Oh my," I gushed. "How wonderful for you! You must be a very rich man."

  He preened. "Well, I do all right. All the workers get equal shares, so as long as the business does well, we do well. But I'm just starting out. In a few days, we'll be off to set this up in another town. Our business partner is injured, well, there's rumors he and my great-aunt are to be married soon, which is only proper for a woman, you know, to be married and have her husband run the business, but he'll be along as soon as he's recovered."

  "Oh? Injured? How terrible!"

  "Yes, it is, isn't it? Shot in the leg by a competitor! You wouldn't believe how many people are jealous of our operation. But to shoot him? Utterly despicable! Why, this man is of the highest caliber, a true gentleman. 'My boy,' he said, and he actually put his arm on my shoulder — imagine! A great man like him, putting me as his equal — he said, 'when we're done here, I'll get rid of these lowlifes lording over you and promote you to where you can do some good in the company.' Can you believe it? I'm going to run a factory of my own, get my fair share of the profits: the upper crust, so to speak. It's wonderful that my great-aunt met this man!"

  He paused, his face changing, as if he had an idea. "You want to come with me? I'll marry you right proper. You don't need papers to marry on the zeppelin, once you're free of the aperture."

  I glanced away, trying not to laugh. We've been talking for twenty minutes and he proposes marriage? "Why, sir, I don't even know your name. And I could hardly leave my elderly widowed aunt. I care for her nights."

  "Well, we could bring her too," he said. "And my name is Trey Louis. What's yours?"

  I tilted my head to look up at him. "Eunice Ogier."

  "Ah, Eunice, what a lovely name. And a lovely girl you are, too." He paused. "You come meet me at the zeppelin station on the first of March at 3 o'clock. Gate 19. It's the last zeppelin leaving before the show, leaving at half past three, and I'll be glad to be rid of this place. Get there at three, and I'll buy two more tickets — one for you, one for your aunt — once you arrive."

  I leaped away from him, jumping up and down clapping. "Oh, just wait until I tell my auntie!"

  Fear crossed his face. "Now you can't tell everyone, love, especially not with Dame Anastasia's name used. No one must know. She plans to leave quietly."

  "I understand. Not a soul." I put my finger to my lips. Then I took his hands. "Oh, Trey," I said with passion, "I'm so happy! I'm to marry a rich man. Who would ever have thought?"

  He beamed at me. "I'll show you the best time, my sweet. You and your auntie. You'll see." He glanced at his watch. "I better get back. How about a little kiss for your affianced?"

  "Oh," I said, fanning myself. "I wouldn't want you to think me a loose woman, kissing you here in the street." I moved close to him, and embraced him, nuzzling his cheek with mine. "Give you something to think of between now and the wedding."

  The same middle aged man bellowed from the door. "Louis! Where the hell are you? We got deliveries here!"

  "My love, I must go," he said, and ran off.

  I left the area as fast as I could before Trey changed his mind.

  Was I wicked, to tease him so? Perhaps. But I had learned more truth in a half hour than I might in weeks of investigating.

  Dame Anastasia was running a scam.

  The Ploy

  Soon I was back home, and so was Tony. He was taking his coat off when I came inside. "How was your visit with Miss Kerr?"

  Pearson must have told him. "She was anxious about our good graces," I said. "And Joe has been asking about us."

  Tony nodded. "Tomorrow we can pay a proper visit."

  "I'll write her at once. After luncheon, perhaps?"

  "Yes, that would be good."

  After changing into house clothes, I returned to my study and wrote to Josie.

  Then I brought out my list and studied it again. I was beginning to see another pattern: this "business partner" of Anastasia's, who she was to marry, sounded suspiciously like Frank Pagliacci. And Frank seemed to also be Zia's lover — at least in her mind.

  When a man is proven to be a kidnapper and strangler of boys, it shouldn't be surprising to find him a cad as well.

  I wrote notes to my informants asking for any details on Anastasia they might glean. I handed the stack to Pearson and went upstairs to dress for dinner.

  While Amelia fussed with my dress and hair, I considered Anastasia's scam. A penny a gem, sold for ten dollars — a sweet little set up. It sounded as if the workers were in on the scam as well. Splitting the profits gave them sure motivation to keep quiet.

  Then to lie about the benefits ... unless this whole list of men were mistaken, this Dr. Gocow must be in on the scam as well — if he were even real. I touched the moonstone hanging between my breasts, wondering how much Tony paid for it.

  I needed to talk with my contact at the newspaper. How did these articles get into the Bridges Daily if they were false?

  ***

  The next day, the Bridges Daily had this as its top story:

  STABLE-MASTER MURDERED

  The Bridges stable-master was found strangled in his bed upon arrival of his taxi-men this morning. Market Center police have evidence of multiple persons involved in the murder.

  Memorial services will be announced after the police investigation has completed.

  Shock, recriminations, and vows to fight crime filled much of the rest of the article.

  Melancholy swept over me. What more could I have done? I gave the letter to Madame Biltcliffe — did she send it? Did it reach the st
able-man? Did he take the warning, or toss it aside?

  The fact that this man died of strangulation — just like those boys — chilled me. Had Frank Pagliacci healed enough to resume his killing spree?

  Amelia came in. "Mum, I must have dropped this on the way up. I'm sorry."

  I took the envelope from her and opened it. Large, child-like printed handwriting on cheap paper greeted me:

  j-bird they wan to kill yur ma to. i walk pass the pokit pare home from work at 7 then down the side.

  marja

  J-bird was Marja's name for me when I was a little girl.

  The Pocket Pair was my friend Vig Vikenti's establishment. How did Marja know that I would know where it was? Very few people knew that I even knew the man, much less visited him.

  I looked at the envelope but other than my name on the front, it held no other information.

  "Amelia, ask Pearson to come here."

  "But mum, you're not dressed."

  "I'll get my robe."

  She went out, closing the door behind her. I threw the note in the fire, watching it burn. I got my robe then sat back at my tea-table and finished my toast while I waited.

  The door opened. Pearson peered at me. "Yes, mum?"

  "The letter which came this morning. Who brought it?"

  "One of the usual messenger boys, mum. Do you need me to call him back?"

  I handed Pearson the envelope. "Find out who sent this, or at least the location it came from, as quietly as possible."

  "Yes, mum." Pearson was the perfect man to choose if you wanted something done discreetly.

  They want to kill your Ma too.

  "What time does the morning paper print?"

  Pearson hadn't moved, which surprised me when I realized it. "Early, mum. It's here at half past seven. Even if the truck came here first —"

  The Bridges Daily office was on Market Center. I nodded.

  "— perhaps five? Or earlier, if they're to have them all wrapped and ready." He paused. "I never considered the matter before." For the first time in my life, John Pearson sounded surprised. "They must be up half the night."

  So Marja hadn't seen the paper yet — she heard this last night. They want to kill your Ma too.