Stolen with Style Read Online Free Page B

included that when it was last at auction it set a new world-record price for a black diamond.”
    â€œBut if the diamond is so valuable, wouldn’t it have had its own security guards?”
    â€œArgh! Don’t remind me!” Cazzie said. She started to pace the room again. “This is the bit that kills me. Just thinking about it…” She turned to face me. “Normally the diamond would have had at least a couple of guards with it, but it belongs to a young guy named Noah Tindle. Have you ever heard of him?”
    â€œDid he create Tindle Computers?”
    Cazzie nodded. “Noah is a friend of mine; or more specifically, his wife, Vanessa, is a very good friend of mine. She’s a model and always says that I’m the one who got her career off the ground. So anyway, Noah owns the diamond. In fact, he owns quite a few gemstones. He has one of the largest private collections of gemstones in the world. All of his stones are unique, both because of their cut and color, and because of their provenance. Noah only likes stones that have dramatic love stories behind them.”
    She actually cracked a small smile when she saw my surprise.
    â€œI know—it doesn’t quite fit the image of a computer geek. But since marrying Vanessa—I introduced them, by the way—he’s been refining his collection to include only gemstones like the Black Amelia.
    â€œAnyway, to get back to your question, yes, normally the diamond would have had a couple of security guards with it. But because I’m such an old friend of Noah’s and Vanessa’s, and because they were thrilled that the diamond would be used on the cover of Chic —Noah especially, because like many of these computer types, he’s eager to be seen as interested in more than just software programs—they weren’t particularly worried about the diamond’s security. They knew it would be safe with me.
    â€œThey actually live in California, but Noah has been here for most of the last month, putting together a deal, so he had Vanessa send the diamond to him and he literally handed it to me early on Friday morning before the shoot, on his way to the airport. He was flying back home to see Vanessa and do some work at his HQ, so we made arrangements—thank God—that I was to keep it in the Chic safe for the entire week he’s gone. He’ll be back from California on Friday evening. I have to— you have to—find it by then. I feel like such a coward, not telling him anything, but how can I? How?”
    She stood at the window, watching the traffic far below for a moment before continuing, her voice a whisper. “But if we don’t have it back by Friday evening, then I’ll have to tell Noah and the police—and Sid Clifton, the owner of this building and the magazine.” There was a pause before she turned to look at me, shoulders heavy with fear and fatigue. “Please, Axelle,” she begged, “please, you have to find the diamond. I didn’t steal it, but somebody in the studio at that photo shoot did. And if I don’t get it back…”
    We both left the rest unsaid.
    ***
    Ira was waiting outside for me as promised. I slid into the car, and we continued downtown to Miriam’s agency on Mercer Street. We sped through Midtown in no time, with Ira speaking as quickly as he drove. I was given a running commentary on the city all the way down. The traffic lights remained green for us until we hit Houston, the wide street that bisected the city east to west and that, according to Ira, was the “Ho” in SoHo (an acronym for “South of Houston”). After the brazen scale and slick, shiny facades of the buildings around Times Square, I was unprepared for the super-trendy and almost quaint feel of SoHo. A warren of one-way, narrow streets like the rest of the city, SoHo was pulsating with life—but on a more human scale.
    As Ira pulled up