Blackbird 02 - Dead Girls Don't Wear Diamonds by Nancy Martin Page A
Authors: Nancy Martin
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I nudged him away with my foot. It wasn't a kick. Just a nudge. Really.
Sidney used a double key system to open one of the heavy metal drawers in his vault. He withdrew a tray and carried it ceremoniously to the coffee table in the shop. He put the tray beside the footed sauceboat and turned on a Waterford crystal lamp. Then he opened the mint-green velvet cover on the tray. Three diamond rings lay on the velvet. Sidney picked up the largest of the rings. Lamplight flashed in the thousands of facets of the enormous emerald-cut diamond that was the centerpiece of the ring.
"I knew you'd be moved by this piece," Sidney said, seeing my tears.
"Sidney, it's beautiful." I wasn't exaggerating. I used my handkerchief to hold back an allergic gush from my itchy eyes and bent to get a closer look. The huge diamond was surrounded by sprays of smaller stones that managed to soften the shape but increase the dazzle of the primary jewel.
"The young man wanted something outstanding, so I found this. It was created in the twenties, can't you tell? The workmanship! But he wasn't looking forward to ending things with Laura, let me tell you. He said she was going to go ballistic."
Maybe their breakup had turned into a murder scene?
Sidney looked at me sagely. "You see? Your jeweler knows everything."
I was trying to come up with an acceptable way of asking who Yale's most recent fiancee was when Jean Pierre leaped up onto the table. His hind paws landed squarely on a velvet-wrapped bundle.
"Oh, Jean Pierre, be careful!" Sidney cried. He snatched up the bundle, but the wrapping slipped and out onto the table slid a glittering silver gun.
I gasped.
"Don't be nervous." Sidney picked up the weapon with terrifying clumsiness. "I don't keep it loaded. I must have a gun, you know, for security reasons. But the bullets are in a drawer."
Jean Pierre leaped onto his master's lap and nudged the gun aside. He braced his front paws on Sidney's chest and began to lick the dribbled marmalade from Sidney's chin. "Darling boy," Sidney cooed.
I ruined the moment by exploding with a gigantic, splattering sneeze.
Chapter 7
When I got back to the farm late that afternoon, Emma was there trying to unload a horse trailer by herself. I thanked Reed and sent him on his way, then walked across the lawn to the paddock. My sister was perspiring as she held a thick rope with both hands. The other end of the rope was clipped to the halter of one very annoyed horse that refused to exit the trailer.
"Need some help?" I asked.
"Not from you," she replied, not tearing her gaze from her adversary. "You'll muss your hair. This one bites and kicks."
I looked into the trailer where the wild-eyed animal stood glaring at us and dripping sweat, just like Emma.
"He's pretty," I said.
"He's a son of a bitch," she said. "But he's going to learn to jump tall buildings in a single bound."
"Only if he learns to get out of a trailer first."
"Well, yes."
"What's his name?" I asked, thinking something dramatic and inspiring like Sheik or Apollo might fit.
Emma spoiled my fantasy. "Mr. Twinkles."
I leaned on the fence to watch, careful not to get my St. Laurent coat dirty. "Em, what do you know about Yale Bailey?"
She quit glaring at Mr. Twinkles and came over to the fence. With one hand, she swatted a cloud of dust from her riding breeches. Then she bent down and retrieved a beer can from the grass. She took a thirsty slug and lit a cigarette. "Why do you want to know? God, he didn't ask you out, did he?"
Tartly, I said, "Is that such an impossible idea?"
"He's hardly your type."
"Rumor has it he was seeing Laura Cooper before she died."
"Doesn't surprise me. Yale goes after anything in pink panties."
"Including you?"
She blew smoke. "My panties aren't pink. And I'm not an idiot."
"You think Laura was?"
"You tell me."
"She was unhappy with Flan, I know. But why take up with a social climber like Yale?" I sighed, unable to make sense of it. "Unless it was the
Sidney used a double key system to open one of the heavy metal drawers in his vault. He withdrew a tray and carried it ceremoniously to the coffee table in the shop. He put the tray beside the footed sauceboat and turned on a Waterford crystal lamp. Then he opened the mint-green velvet cover on the tray. Three diamond rings lay on the velvet. Sidney picked up the largest of the rings. Lamplight flashed in the thousands of facets of the enormous emerald-cut diamond that was the centerpiece of the ring.
"I knew you'd be moved by this piece," Sidney said, seeing my tears.
"Sidney, it's beautiful." I wasn't exaggerating. I used my handkerchief to hold back an allergic gush from my itchy eyes and bent to get a closer look. The huge diamond was surrounded by sprays of smaller stones that managed to soften the shape but increase the dazzle of the primary jewel.
"The young man wanted something outstanding, so I found this. It was created in the twenties, can't you tell? The workmanship! But he wasn't looking forward to ending things with Laura, let me tell you. He said she was going to go ballistic."
Maybe their breakup had turned into a murder scene?
Sidney looked at me sagely. "You see? Your jeweler knows everything."
I was trying to come up with an acceptable way of asking who Yale's most recent fiancee was when Jean Pierre leaped up onto the table. His hind paws landed squarely on a velvet-wrapped bundle.
"Oh, Jean Pierre, be careful!" Sidney cried. He snatched up the bundle, but the wrapping slipped and out onto the table slid a glittering silver gun.
I gasped.
"Don't be nervous." Sidney picked up the weapon with terrifying clumsiness. "I don't keep it loaded. I must have a gun, you know, for security reasons. But the bullets are in a drawer."
Jean Pierre leaped onto his master's lap and nudged the gun aside. He braced his front paws on Sidney's chest and began to lick the dribbled marmalade from Sidney's chin. "Darling boy," Sidney cooed.
I ruined the moment by exploding with a gigantic, splattering sneeze.
Chapter 7
When I got back to the farm late that afternoon, Emma was there trying to unload a horse trailer by herself. I thanked Reed and sent him on his way, then walked across the lawn to the paddock. My sister was perspiring as she held a thick rope with both hands. The other end of the rope was clipped to the halter of one very annoyed horse that refused to exit the trailer.
"Need some help?" I asked.
"Not from you," she replied, not tearing her gaze from her adversary. "You'll muss your hair. This one bites and kicks."
I looked into the trailer where the wild-eyed animal stood glaring at us and dripping sweat, just like Emma.
"He's pretty," I said.
"He's a son of a bitch," she said. "But he's going to learn to jump tall buildings in a single bound."
"Only if he learns to get out of a trailer first."
"Well, yes."
"What's his name?" I asked, thinking something dramatic and inspiring like Sheik or Apollo might fit.
Emma spoiled my fantasy. "Mr. Twinkles."
I leaned on the fence to watch, careful not to get my St. Laurent coat dirty. "Em, what do you know about Yale Bailey?"
She quit glaring at Mr. Twinkles and came over to the fence. With one hand, she swatted a cloud of dust from her riding breeches. Then she bent down and retrieved a beer can from the grass. She took a thirsty slug and lit a cigarette. "Why do you want to know? God, he didn't ask you out, did he?"
Tartly, I said, "Is that such an impossible idea?"
"He's hardly your type."
"Rumor has it he was seeing Laura Cooper before she died."
"Doesn't surprise me. Yale goes after anything in pink panties."
"Including you?"
She blew smoke. "My panties aren't pink. And I'm not an idiot."
"You think Laura was?"
"You tell me."
"She was unhappy with Flan, I know. But why take up with a social climber like Yale?" I sighed, unable to make sense of it. "Unless it was the
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