Page 58 of The Expat Affair

“What time was the call?”

“Just after midnight.” Thomas’s answer is immediate. He doesn’t pause to think about it, doesn’t hesitate even a split second. He’s probably thinking the same thing I did earlier, that there’s no use denying it. The detective will already know this from Xander’s call logs.

“That’s awfully late to be calling an employee.”

“True, but there were some issues at one of the Asian labs and they needed immediate sorting out.”

“What kind of issues?”

“A shipment with more diamonds than we ordered, stones that were unaccounted for on the waybill. Things like that.”

The detective swings an ankle onto his knee, trying to get comfortable in a chair that was built for a man half his size. “Real diamonds?”

“Lab-grown diamondsarereal, Detective. They are optically,chemically, and physically identical to their mined counterparts, virtually indistinguishable from the stones miners pull from the dirt. The only difference is in how they’re created, by pressure deep in the earth’s mantle or by a scientist in a laboratory.”

“But the diamonds we’re currently talking about, these ‘issues’ you mentioned, they were with lab-grown diamonds?” He pauses for Thomas’s nod. “And you thought Xander might be behind the mistake.”

“It wasn’t a mistake, Detective. It was fraud. The lab was sending two, three, sometimes four or more of the same stone but only listing one on the waybill, the same stone that would make its way into our inventory. The others disappeared into Xander’s pocket.”

“And you know this how?”

“Because it didn’t happen with just one shipment, but many, and for who knows how long. You saw where Xander lived, in a building that commands the highest prices per square meter in all of Amsterdam. He drove a custom Bentley and owned a collection of art and watches that went far, far above his pay grade. He couldn’t have afforded all those things, not with what I was paying him.”

“So basically, you called to accuse him.”

“No.” Thomas clears his throat. “I called to fire him and tell him I’d be pressing charges.”

“Interesting timing.” The detective leans back in his chair with a loud creak. “Xander died before you could press charges, but you also didn’t file a police report.”

“I have a diamond house to protect, Detective. After the Cullinan theft and now these two murders, it seems prudent to just... accept the loss and move on.”

Detective Boomsma scratches at a cheek. “I’ll have my people take a closer look at Xander’s financials, but if he’s behind the scam with the Asian lab like you suspect, he was likely moving money around via nontraditional methods. Cash, hawala, Bitcoin. Thosediamonds and whatever money he made selling them on the black market, it’s likely untraceable.”

Thomas gives him a resigned nod. “Like I said, it’s best to put this behind us.”

“But this bracelet.” The detective taps a finger to the desk, rattling the links. “Are you absolutely certain yours is in the safe?”

Thomas looks to me for the answer, and I nod, then just as quickly shake my head. “I—I can’t remember the last time I opened the safe, honestly. I don’t go in there all that often.”

It’s one of the few things my mother-in-law can’t detest about me, as much as she doesn’t understand my unwillingness to let Thomas drape me in diamonds. The wife of a diamond heir who doesn’t love the bling? Anna finds it utterly incomprehensible at the same time she secretly admires me for my modesty—a trait the Dutch love in spades. It’s hard to accuse me of being a gold digger when the only diamond I ever wear consistently is my engagement ring.

Thomas flips on the desk lamp, a fluorescent jewelers light with built-in magnifying glass. He points to the bracelet. “May I?”

With a shrug, the detective pushes it across the desk.

“I made this bracelet, Detective. I built it with my own hands. I spent five months drawing it, first on paper, then with 3D renderings, printing the wax model, casting it with metal. None of our master jewelers helped me with this piece. I did all the work myself. I selected and set every one of the hundred and twenty-three stones, including the last remaining Cullinan.” He taps the center stone then flips the bracelet over, holding it under the desk light. “See here?For my wifeon the occasion ofour fifth anniversary.This is it, Detective. This is the bracelet I made for her. A one-of-a-kind piece.”

I press my lips together, staying silent. Yes, Thomas did all thosethings. He spent all those months tinkering away on the factory floor in order to build what is undeniably a masterpiece, a stunning swirl of hundreds of flawless diamonds. The result is a piece that belongs on a princess or in a museum, sitting on a velvet pillow behind a case of bulletproof glass. Not on an arm. Certainly not onmyarm. The bracelet is so delicate, its stones far too priceless—and Detective Boomsma was just carrying it around in his pocket. Thomas is right; it is an absolute work of art.

If only it were a work of love.

But also, I didn’t miss that word—3D. Thomas has a 3D printer at work. He used it to make this bracelet, and maybe a gun.

“How did it get from your safe to Xander’s desk drawer?”

Thomas shakes his head. “Impossible. None of the house staff can open the safe. Only Willow and I know the code.”

“And you’re sure this is the one you made and not a copy.”

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