Page 11 of Resolution

Chapter Three

MIGUEL

We rode the elevator up to the twentieth floor of a gleaming marble and glass building in downtown L.A. just before one o’clock. The suites of Brown, Butterfield, and Spaulding Insurance encompassed the entire top floor. When we walked through the glass double doors and strolled up to the smiling receptionist sitting behind a curving, rose-colored, marble desk, I gave our names. We were directed to take seats in the lobby.

“By the way, whoisBrian Leopard?” Raven asked while we sat waiting for Tomlinson to come out of his office.

I glanced over. “I left a message. I thought I told you that.”

“I probably wasn’t listening,” Raven said, looking slightly awkward. “Sorry. I can’t get my brain wrapped around this new development.” He waved around the expensive lobby with the smooth marble walls, Persian rug covered floors, and pricey vases of fresh flowers on glass tables. He’d just opened his mouth to say something when a man suddenly appeared.

Tomlinson was exactly the kind of man I expected. He was short and slightly bald with a comb over and horn-rimmed glasses. He wore a business suit, black wingtips, and a wide smile as he walked over and reached out a hand to shake.

“Thank you for coming this afternoon. I know you’re busy but, in any case, my boss wants this necklace found as soon as possible,” he said as he led us back to a private, windowed office.

Raven sent me a secret smile then returned to taking in the place again. I noticed that all the recovery agents had richly appointed, private offices. Raven was probably comfortable in this setting since GMS was just the same. I’d been in a lot of insurance company offices including GMS, picking up checks for bounties I’d earned when their in-house recovery agents had failed at their jobs. But I was never greeted with anything other than curt nods and sneers as I walked into their offices. I felt a small stab of guilt. Raven had a really good job and made terrific money before deciding to leave a cushy office to go into business with me.

“We’d like to help any way we can,” I heard Raven saying. In Tomlinson’s plush office, we were waved to chairs in front of his desk. He sank into his own comfortable chair, immediately sliding a folder across the desk to us.

“Our client, Mrs. Bryant James, is the owner of the necklace and like I told you on the phone, she’s very anxious to get it back. In any case, I hope you don’t mind me picking your brains about your progress in finding the Flores ruby pendant, because I think the two recoveries might be connected.”

We suspected theywereconnected, but for many reasons, we couldn’t go into detail about how we knew that. For one thing, Sutter’s disappearance in a sandstorm and reappearance as a kidnapping victim was classified. We could only talk in generalities. We’d decided we had to probe Tomlinson for as much information as possible, while trying not to anger him that we didn’t have a whole lot either. We knew about the threatening letters Benedict Flores had received, and now, the murder of his attorney’s investigator but it was a bit of a balancing act.

I opened the file, holding it so that Raven could see. The first page was the BBS appraisal. It showed an enlarged picture of a massive diamond necklace with five nearly-perfect dark green, pear-shaped emeralds resembling teardrops. There were a multitude of baguette and marquise-shaped diamonds making up the neckline of the piece. The stones were set in either platinum or white gold, meaning if the emeraldswerea part of the original cache of stones Filmore was trying to find, they’d been reset prior to the auction.

In the Middle East, the gold would have been almost coppery in color, either eighteen or twenty-two karat, not the standard fourteen karat found in most jewelry manufactured in the U.S. Fine jewelry makers rarely used white gold in that region. It was considered inferior because the gold content was usually 58.5 percent, versus 75 percent in eighteen karat gold. Platinum was almost unheard of in the Middle East. The total diamond weight was listed as ten carats, with a VVS1 clarity. The emeralds had the same clarity and were sixty-five carats in total.

I whistled. “That’s quite a piece,” I said as Raven flipped the page. The next page of the appraisal went into greater detail about each diamond, with pictures of other similar necklaces and their relative value. They ranged in price above and below the one Tomlinson’s client owned, with the most expensive being a Harry Winston showpiece, retailing for 350,000. The next page in Tomlinson’s folder listed other jewelry and unset stones of every variety, most of them very large diamonds. The corresponding owners and the companies they were insured by, were typed beside each one. I recognized a couple of the owners and wasn’t surprised to see that a large number of the pieces were insured by either GMS or BBS, the majority in fact.

Charlotte Mulberry and Tawny Flores were listed beside their respective missing gems. I wanted to clap at Tomlinson’s diligence. The man had been doing his homework. Clearly, the rest of the fine jewelry items had to be other high-value stolen items. I wondered how many of them might be connected to the cache of stolen jewels the rogue CIA cell claimed as their own. I scanned the list again, dragging my finger slowly down the page. When I got to one name I recognized, I stopped, swallowing hard as I glanced over at Raven with wide eyes. He had a surprised expression on his face too.Brian Leopard.

“Something interesting?” Tomlinson asked.

I cleared my throat as I tapped the page, hoping Raven would catch on. He gifted me with a minute nod in silent agreement. I instantly relaxed. My man was so perceptive. I loved him so much. “Oh,uh…I see that you’ve listed Charlotte Mulberry’s diamond here as well. We’re familiar with that recovery.” Nowaywas I going to give away the fact that Brian Leopard was the name whichreallypopped out at me or that his piece had also been insured by BBS.

“Oh?” Tomlinson turned in his desk chair and started tapping keys on his keyboard. He leaned forward reading the screen before glancing back at us with pen and paper in hand. “Indeed. Would you mind telling me something about it?”

I glanced at Raven. He cleared his throat and launched into the explanation about how we’d both been pursuing the recovery prior to opening our business and how he’d been working as a recovery agent for GMS, which had insured the diamond.

Tomlinson interrupted by raising his hand as he smiled. “So, you were rivals at the time?”

We both nodded and I smiled back, hoping it didn’t look as contrived as it was. Raven continued. “We’d both come to the same conclusion that the diamond had been stolen by Lyle Trench, a petty criminal, who’d been caught on traffic cameras and identified as the thief who’d accosted Charlotte Mulberry outside her bank. He snatched the bank bag she’d been carrying and had gotten away with her diamond.”

He looked up at me from his furious scribbling, gesturing me to continue. Most likely, this was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to the pencil pusher.

“Miguel and I both learned that Trench was scheduled to meet with a record producer at the Capitol Records building and we literally bumped into each other.” I glanced over at my beloved and he smiled at me before we turned back to Tomlinson. I shrugged. “The police arrested him since they knew he’d stolen the item. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the diamond on him at the time of arrest, and the LAPD couldn’t locate it anywhere in his home or possessions.”

Tomlinson’s eyes widened and he scribbled more notes. He looked up after a minute. “So, the diamond was never recovered?”

“No, we check GMS’ available online recoveries all the time. The bounty is still active.”

“And Trench? He’s not talking?”

“Lyle Trench was murdered in prison, so he won’t be talking to anyone,” I said. “At least…anymore.” I shook my head. “He never gave up the location of the diamond before his death.”

“This is very good information. Thank you,” Tomlinson said, looking almost breathless. I was sure the man had begun to sweat. “Now, I’d really like to know what you can tell me about Mr. Benedict Flores’ ruby. I know you said you haven’t been able to recover it so far, but I’d really like to know how far you’ve gotten. You see, BBS is very interested in that stone’s recovery as well. It was also insured by GMS, as I’m sure you know.”

That’s because the two companies seem to be at war in the same small pool of insanely wealthy clients. “Yes, we do.”

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