Gentlemen Prefer Nerds (6 page)

“What’s happening there? I hope you didn’t leave him alone with the stone.”

“Of course not. The Rose is back in the safe. You are way off the mark with your accusations. Goodbye.”

She turned off her microscope and the gooseneck lamp and disarmed the electronic lock on the alley door, letting Rolf out ahead of her. Outside, a light rain was falling, the droplets visible in the cone of the security light. Maddie paused in the doorway and glanced back into the workshop; everything was in order. She closed and locked the door, then reset the alarm. Only when she fell into step beside Rolf did she realize her skin was damp with perspiration. As much as she loved the Rose, she would be glad when the responsibility was off her hands.

She drove Rolf back to his hotel, chatting on the way about the university and Willa’s field trip to the outback. Rolf seemed distracted and slow to answer. But then he was jet-lagged. Finally she gave up and they rode in silence until she pulled under the porte cochere.

Rolf’s pale blue eyes glowed behind his glasses. “Tonight was wonderful. Thank you. For everything.”

Maddie smiled. Not many people she knew enjoyed dinner and a look through a microscope as much as she did. “I had a great time too.”

He leaned over and kissed her again, softly and briefly. Okay, his kisses didn’t leave her breathless but he liked her, and if she gave him half a chance she might like him too. At least she was making an effort. Grace would be pleased.

Rolf got out of the car, lifted his hand in a clumsy wave and pushed through the revolving glass door into the brightly lit lobby.

Maddie’s phone rang. “Hello?”

“You shouldn’t let him kiss you.”

“Oh my God! You
are
stalking me.” Maddie jerked her head around, searching the ornamental shrubs for a tall figure in a perfectly cut suit. Then she glanced in the rearview mirror. A sleek black sports car was parked behind her. “Is that you in the…whatever-it-is?”

“Maserati Spyder. Never mind that,” Fabian replied impatiently. “Are you absolutely certain it was the Rose that went inside the safe?”

“I put it in the locked box myself. The key is in my purse.” She slid her fingers inside the small zippered pocket in the lining of her purse just to be absolutely sure. The key was there.

“Go back to the shop and check.”

“I’ll do nothing of the kind. I’m going home to bed. I have a big day tomorrow.” She started to hang up, then added, “Don’t follow me.”

“It’s not you I’m interested in.”

Nice. “You might have charmed the socks off my aunt but you’re not winning any brownie points with me, buster.”

His low chuckle sounded close, as if his mouth was right next to her ear, sending a shiver across the back of her neck. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Not if I see you first.” Maddie clicked her phone off and tucked it back in her purse. She drove out of the circular driveway and paused at the street. Nagging doubt almost made her turn the car back toward the jewelry shop. No, why should she listen to a man she knew nothing about? Indicating left, she headed for home. For all she knew, he might be trying to set a trap, getting her there alone so he could steal the diamond.

* * *

Fabian shook his head as she turned in the wrong direction. He didn’t know why her inexplicable antipathy bothered him so much. She was hardly his type. He preferred more sophisticated women. But her dislike was more than a prick to his ego—it was a nuisance. It also made her a liability if she continued to do the opposite of everything he told her.

If he could have managed this operation without her, he would have. Unfortunately, he needed her expertise if he was going to thwart the Chameleon in his latest caper.
Caper.
The word had a jaunty ring to it that belied the dark currents driving the jewel thief. If only—

Fabian broke off that thought before it could take hold. Dwelling on the past was futile and would to nothing to solve the present crisis.

Turning the key, he restarted the thrumming motor of the powerful car and experienced a thrill of satisfaction that was unabashedly testosterone-fueled. A rental vehicle that blended into the Ford and Toyota streetscape would have been more suitable but not nearly as much fun. Powerful cars were his weakness, his guilty pleasure. Someday the getaway speed might save his life.

His phone rang as he put the car into gear. Shifting back into neutral, he slid the BlackBerry out of his pocket and glanced at the familiar number on the screen. He’d wondered how long it would be before she tracked him down. “Hello, darling.”

“You’re not to call me that,” a deep voice purred seductively in direct contradiction to her words. Her voice was so low she was sometimes mistaken for a man, a mistake never made when confronting her in person. And definitely not when lucky enough to be taken to her bed—as Fabian had good reason to know, though it had been five years since he’d enjoyed that privilege. “You must be feeling guilty. Men are nicest then.”

“I never waste time with guilt, you know that. Anyway, I’m not at work now so I can call you anything I like.” Which of course wasn’t true.

The purr disappeared, replaced by cool, efficient tempered steel. “You’re in Melbourne, Australia. 85 Collins Street to be exact. What I don’t know is why you’ve gone AWOL. And why you neglected to inform me of your departure.”

“It’s a pet project of mine.” He paused before adding, “I need you to do something for me—find out when a man named Roland Price left Cape Town, where he entered Australia and what his movements were in between.”

“Who is Roland Price?”

“He’s a British subject living in South Africa.” Fabian slipped his hand into his pocket to touch the smooth gold case of the engraved cigarette lighter she’d given him after their first year together. It had been nearly a decade since he’d smoked but he kept it as a reminder of their lost love. And of who owned who. Although, like all relationships, it was more complicated than that.

“You don’t have time for pet projects. I have a new assignment for you.”

He brought out the lighter, flicked open the lid and rolled his thumb over the striker. A lick of yellow flame shot up in the plush darkness of the car’s mahogany and leather interior. He stared at it until dots danced in front of his eyes. She didn’t like being told no but he could bring a hint of metal to his voice too. “The assignment will have to wait.”

“You presume too much on our friendship.” Now the cold steel had frosted over with ice.

Fabian remained mute. There was nothing to be said.

“Why?” she demanded.

Why was he refusing her? What could possibly be more vital than the task she had for him? They were valid questions. “I can’t tell you.”

There was a long wintry silence, giving him ample time to reflect on how much he missed their hot-blooded trysts. Since they’d ended—and if it had been up to him, they never would have—the heat between them had been subsumed by professionalism, replaced by a cordial amity. At the slightest discord even that surface friendliness sealed over with a layer of ice. Did she ever regret breaking off their relationship?

Finally, she said, “You have three days.”

Three days. Fabian shut his eyes, the metal cigarette lighter cooling in his palm. It wouldn’t be nearly long enough.

Breathless from running, Maddie flew through the alley door into the workshop at ten-fifteen the next morning. Quickly she reset the security alarm and flung her purse onto the bench. Late, late, late… From the shop came the buzz of dozens of voices.

“Where have you been?” Grace demanded, hurrying in from the shop. “Everyone’s here—reporters, photographers, customers—we’re all waiting for you.”

“My alarm didn’t go off. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Maddie began digging in her purse for her brush. “Has Kim already set the Rose? I wanted to be here for that.”

“We were running out of time so he went ahead without you. The diamond is in the display case, all ready for the unveiling. Hurry, the crowd is getting impatient.”

“You should have started the press conference without me.” Maddie pulled her hair into a ponytail, anchoring it with an elastic band.

“You’re the gemologist. I know the basics but only you can answer technical questions.” Grace picked a speck of lint off Maddie’s pink sleeve. “Where did you get this awful jacket? Look at those wide lapels!”

“It was Mum’s. I love it. It goes perfectly with my outfit.” She smoothed the hem on the patterned sweater vest she wore beneath the jacket and over a flowered dress.

“Never mind,” Grace said, waving away her niece’s fashion horrors. “We have good news. The Sultan of Brunei made an offer from photos and grading reports alone. William Franklin accepted. They signed an agreement and a deposit has been made.”

“So exciting!” Maddie squealed, hugging Grace. “Is the deal being made public?”

“William is giving a press conference later this morning. He said we could ‘allude’ to an impending sale.” Grace stepped back to look at her and brushed a loose hair off her sleeve. With a gentle shove, she said, “Hurry, now.”

Maddie was propelled into the store, Grace at her heels. A TV camera swiveled in her direction. The crowd surged forward. Half a dozen cameras were held on high as journalists jockeyed for position in the roped-off area around the Rose’s display case. Curious onlookers stood four deep behind the media.

Maddie took a deep breath and smiled nervously. When she found herself scanning the crowd for the sight of a dark head above an impeccably cut suit, she told herself not to be an idiot. If she wanted anyone here, it was Rolf.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Grace announced loudly. The hubbub settled to a low hum then became quiet. “I’d like to introduce our resident gemologist and diamond expert, Dr. Madeline Maloney, who discovered the rough diamond from which the Rose was cut. It’s thanks to her and Ogilvie Diamonds that Grace Jewelers is able to display the most magnificent fancy pink ever to come out of Western Australia or, indeed, the world. Without further ado, here’s Maddie to tell you about the unique qualities of this special gemstone.”

Maddie smiled at Grace and thanked her then turned to the crowd. Camera lights popped, blinding her. She raised her voice above the murmur. “The Rose is the rarest and most valuable pink diamond known. At 28.2 carats it’s one of the largest flawless fancy intense pinks in existence. A bid has recently been made for this unique diamond worth over twenty million dollars. In a moment I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have about the stone but for now, I give you—” she whisked away the mantle of black silk, “—the Rose!”

Oohs and ahhs rose from the crowd as the huge pink diamond, set on its black velvet background, glittered and sparkled beneath the fiber-optic light. Camera flashbulbs popped and the corded purple rope holding the crowd back strained at its posts as people pushed forward to see better.

Over the top of the display case Maddie exchanged a triumphant smile with Grace. She’d never had such a magnificent gem in her care and, given the rarity of the Rose, probably never would again. Pride filled Maddie’s chest as she glanced down at her diamond.

She gasped.

“It is fabulous,” Grace said, seeing the direction of her gaze. “What a success!”

Maddie’s skin turned to ice. She could hardly hear what Grace was saying for the ringing in her ears. Stunned, she raised her eyes to Grace and opened her mouth but nothing came out. A second later, when she could speak, she whispered hoarsely, “That’s not the Rose!”

Grace’s joyous smile froze. She sidled closer to Maddie so no one could overhear their whispered conversation. “Of course it’s the Rose.”

“It’s a fake!” Maddie insisted in an undertone, agonizingly aware of the photographers snapping pictures of the two of them standing behind the display case, ignoring the shouted questions of the reporters. “It’s the right size but the color is too light. It’s more grapefruit than raspberry.”

“How can that be?” Grace clasped her hands together so hard her knuckles turned white. “It looks right to me.”

Maddie shook her head. “I’ve spent countless hours with that stone and I’m telling you, that is not the Rose.”

“Kim didn’t say anything.”

“He wouldn’t know.”

Grace stared down at the diamond. “Well, if that’s a fake, where is the Rose?”

Maddie tasted bile and swallowed hard on the upwelling from her empty stomach. She rubbed her arms, trying to warm herself. “It must have been…stolen.”

“Stolen!” Grace exclaimed, forgetting to whisper. Her face paled to paper white. Her knees started to buckle beneath her.

Maddie caught her just before she hit the marble tiles and half led, half dragged her behind the counter to a chair. “Quick, Tiffany! Call the police!”

A buzz went up in the crowd. The word
stolen
was repeated over and over until it was a roar. The restraining rope was knocked over and people spilled into the space around the display case, trying to get a look at the phony diamond. Tiffany spoke urgently into the telephone.

“Please, everyone, stand back.” Maddie waved her arms, trying to get the crowd away from the display case.

More flashbulbs popped. In the distance, police sirens wailed.

Cold and shivery, Maddie hugged herself.
Rose, where are you?

* * *

Across the street, Fabian cursed himself for failing to prevent the theft. Since he was no diamond expert, he’d had to take Maddie at her word last night that the real Rose was locked inside the safe. But he’d followed that up by camping in the warehouse across the alley and keeping close watch on the shop door. No one had entered all night. He would have sworn on his ancestral home that the pink diamond was safe.

Clearly, he’d been wrong. It rankled—badly. The Chameleon could not be allowed to best him.

With a pair of small binoculars he discreetly kept tabs on what was happening inside the shop. After taking statements from everyone in the store, the police had moved the public out and locked the doors. Officers in white overalls were dusting the shop for fingerprints, spreading white powder everywhere. A male cop was checking the windows and doors for evidence of a break-in, while the lone female was taking a statement from the man from the security firm who’d arrived ten minutes ago.

Grace was still slumped in a chair behind the counter holding a damp handkerchief to her forehead. A young female assistant, her platinum hair streaked pink—presumably in honor of the occasion—hovered nearby looking like a scared rabbit. A Korean gentleman paced silently, an impassive expression on his moon-shaped face. No doubt he was the illustrious Kim of tai chi fame.

Seated at a desk, Maddie had been on the phone for fifteen minutes, her cheeks blazing red as she angrily wiped away the occasional tear with the heel of her hand. She was probably conveying the dreadful news to the owner of the Rose, William Franklin of Ogilvie Diamonds.

Fabian lowered the binoculars. The crowd who’d come for the unveiling hung around outside hoping for more excitement. The media, used to long sieges, had set up camp on the sidewalk outside the perimeter of the checkered police tape. One of their group had gone on a coffee run and was handing around foam cups with curling wisps of steam rising from holes in the lids. Passersby, seeing the police cars and the gathered press, stayed to find out what was going on. Instead of dispersing, the throng was growing.

An unmarked police car pulled up and a plainclothes detective got out. He was in his fifties—short, gray-haired and tending to bulk around the middle. Not exactly stooped, he had a forward lean as if he spent his days hunting the ground for clues. With a mild expression on his pudgy face, he glanced around at the chaotic scene on the footpath. Then, ignoring the clamoring reporters, he entered the store with an expectant air, like a kid about to purchase a new toy.

Maddie, the phone pressed to her ear, went over once more for William Franklin the few facts she knew. She could picture him in his corner office overlooking the Swan River in Perth where she’d first met him. A large, good-natured man, he’d reminded her of Baby Huey. Now she could sense his shock, disappointment and fury beneath the reassuring words. His anger wasn’t directed at her but even so the knot in her stomach grew. She’d been entrusted with the most valuable pink diamond in existence and she’d let everyone down.

“I’ll get the Rose back if it’s the last thing I do,” she promised. Though how she was going to accomplish that she had no idea. A man in a beige trench coat had slipped through the police barricade and entered the store. From the way the cops were deferring to him she decided he must be the detective in charge. “Excuse me, William, I have to go.”

The detective glanced around the shop with large pale blue eyes. He said something to a uniformed cop—something funny apparently. Then he chuckled at his own joke while the cop smiled dutifully. Great, the biggest crisis of her life and the man was a joker.

A vein pounded in Maddie’s temple, bringing bright stabs of pain with every beat of her pulse as she tried to figure out what had happened. The only person beside herself who’d had access to the diamond in the past twenty-four hours was Dr. Hauzenegger. He wouldn’t have stolen the Rose. He couldn’t have. She was with him the whole time. But he might have seen something last night that she’d missed. Some clue.

Reaching for her cell phone again, she dialed Willa’s number at the university. Rolf was likely there now, getting ready for his lecture. She should let him know the police would probably want to speak with him. His alibi would be that he was with her most of the evening. And the night clerk at the Sofitel might have noticed him entering the hotel.

While she waited for Willa to answer, Maddie walked over to the plate glass window. A news van emblazoned with the logo of a national television station had just pulled up. A cameraman and a female reporter got out and started filming outside the store. Maddie’s empty stomach churned. Instead of the positive publicity they’d hoped to get from displaying the Rose, Grace Jewelers would forever be known as the site from which the largest fancy pink diamond in the world had been stolen.

Willa’s phone went to voice mail and Maddie was asked to leave a message. “It’s Maddie.” Her voice was high-pitched, stretched tight with anxiety. “Call me as soon as you can.”

She hung up and stayed at the window rather than face what was going on in the shop. Her gaze drifted over the crowd, across the street. Beneath a bare-limbed tree stood Fabian. His charcoal gray suit fit as if it was custom-made, as she had no doubt it was. A gold cuff link glinted in the pale morning sun as he pressed buttons on his phone. As annoying as he was, Maddie found it hard to take her eyes off him. He was, quite simply, gorgeous. Elegant yet intensely masculine, sophisticated yet dangerous.

And he’d been right. Someone had stolen the Rose.

Fabian’s gaze lifted and he looked straight at her. The phone in her hand began to ring. Maddie jerked back, out of sight. “Hello?”

“What have you told the police?” Fabian asked.

At the sound of his voice, her heart began to race. “Nothing about Rolf, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said, instantly defensive. “I don’t know who stole the Rose but it wasn’t him.”

“The detective in charge of the case will suspect you.”

“You mean the doofus with the googly eyes?” Maddie asked scornfully. While the detective spoke to Grace he idly twirled a rack of costume jewelry necklaces. There was something creepy-scary about his mild expression.

“Don’t underestimate him,” Fabian warned sharply. With a click, the line went dead.

Maddie tucked the phone into her pocket and wiped her damp palms on her dress. Fabian had accused Rolf of being the Chameleon but hadn’t wanted to go to the police. Why? Had he changed his mind now that the Rose had been stolen? Oh, what did she care what he thought?

The plainclothes detective left Grace and ambled over to Maddie. He flashed a badge and identified himself as Detective Sergeant Billson. “Madeline Maloney?”

On the other side of the store Grace was being led away by two policemen.

Maddie yelped. “Where are they taking my aunt?”

“Down to the station to help us with our inquiries.” The detective’s big-eyed gaze bobbed around a bit then came back to her. “There’s no sign of forced entry. According to your aunt, nothing else has been stolen. And the security around the diamond’s display case hasn’t been tampered with.” His large eyes widened as he studied her face. “Do you have any idea who could have substituted the fake diamond for—what do you call it—the Rose?”

Over and over again in her mind she’d replayed the previous evening in the workshop. The lighting had been too dim to tell the Rose from a synthetic but she’d only taken her eyes off the diamond for a moment when Rolf kissed her. And he’d been occupied too, with his hands all over her. He’d have to be a magician to make a substitution under those circumstances.

Fabian Montgomery, on the other hand, had somehow overridden the alarm system. What was to stop him from doing so again and entering her workshop undetected after she and Rolf had left? The words he’d used to describe the Chameleon’s modus operandi came back to her.
Right under her nose.
A chill crawled up her spine. She glanced out of the window and across the street.

Fabian was gone.

“Well, Ms. Maloney?” Billson tore open a stick of gum and folded it into his mouth. He gazed at her placidly, chewing steadily in a bovine manner. The sickly sweet scent of fruit-flavored gum emanated from his breath.