The Wicked Wife (Murder in Marin Book 2) (20 page)

“Sometime, I think you are more crazy for your dollars then you are for me.”

Willow stopped herself before she confirmed for Viktor what to her was the obvious truth. Lovers come and go, but with a small amount of care and attention, great fortunes will be with you a lifetime.
 

Instead, she took his famous features in her hands, kissed him tenderly first on his cheeks, and then hungrily on his mouth.
 

Elated to be with her and disappointed that it would not be for longer than a few hours, Viktor lifted her up in his arms and carried her back to bed.

At five-thirty in the morning, Willow told Viktor to dress and rushed him out of the room.
 

“I don’t need the maids or the staff running into you on your way out my door and selling a phone camera photo of you to the tabloids.”

“You treat me like a peasant,” he said indignantly, as he searched in and around the bed for his underwear.

“You’re being ridiculous, Viktor! I don’t let peasants anywhere near me!”

Willow left a wake-up call for two o’clock that afternoon, and instructions to the housekeeping staff that she not be disturbed. The only item on her calendar was a late afternoon meeting with Allard.
 

Down in the lobby, Parisian private investigator Roger Guilbert waited patiently for the celebrity model with the famous face to come down from her room. As in all surveillance jobs, the greatest challenge is to stay on duty and remain alert while waiting seemingly endless hours for your target. He watched the lobby, the exits, and the elevators, shifting his eyes and letting them rest in one place for only a few moments.

At three-fifteen, more than seven hours after he arrived, Guilbert’s patience was rewarded as he observed Willow carrying a green clutch, and strolling confidently across the marble and gold accented lobby, out into the street and into a waiting car.
 

Guilbert went to the third floor storage room, where a ladder and coveralls identifying him as a member of the hotel’s maintenance staff was waiting.
 

Using a passkey he had paid a hotel security staff member one thousand euros to borrow for twenty-four hours, he entered Willow’s room and placed a ladder near the foot of her bed. Carefully, he removed the smoke detector. Guilbert then went into the lavishly appointed bathroom, contorted himself in order to reach inside a discretely placed storage cabinet that held a variety of scented candles and scented soaps, and removed the room’s actual smoke detector, which he then snapped back into place.

Leaving his maintenance uniform and ladder back where they belonged, and after exchanging pleasant nods with two members of the hotel’s cleaning staff, Guilbert left the hotel, confident that his hidden camera and audio recording device had captured a show worthy of the fee he had been paid.
 

Willow was delighted to find Jacques alone. The last thing she needed was the talkative and ever-curious LeBon.
 

Jacques escorted her up to the small, elegant apartment that he kept above his retail jewelry shop. The two shared a passion for precious stones and the bold designs of Bulgari, a topic they had often discussed backstage while watching LeBon prepare for yet one more of his elaborate Paris events.
 

As Jacques handed her a small glass of sherry and they toasted to “all things beautiful,” he showed her a few of his favorite creations from the massive books he had on jewelry design, half of which were devoted to the long history of Bulgari.

“Well, as you may have heard, I’ve come into a little money lately,” Willow began.

“Ah,
oui
, I recall hearing or reading something about this,” Jacques said, as they exchanged knowing smiles.
 

“So, I have spent some of my money collecting several older estate pieces. Here, let me show you.” She opened up her green clutch and removed three glittering necklaces, and an assortment of other pieces—mostly rings and pendants, all of which had been separately wrapped.
 

Of the dozen pieces, undoubtedly, the two most outstanding were Pamela’s necklace of diamonds, emeralds, and rubies, and Julia’s beloved piece handed down from her grandmother, the sparkling bracelet adorned with multi-carat diamonds and sapphires.

“My goodness!” Jacques exclaimed, as he examined each piece carefully with his jeweler’s loupe. Willow could tell that he was impressed with the array of handsomely cut gems, mostly set in gold and platinum.
 

“All of it is lovely,
mon cherie
. The sapphires, emeralds and rubies are all dazzling. Have you looked at the cut of this four-carat diamond? It’s beautifully done. Where did you say you acquired these pieces?”

“I have a trusted broker who locates them for me, everywhere from London to Los Angeles. He’s very good and very discreet. After all, if someone learns that Willow Adams is the customer, the price suddenly doubles.

“That is very important…you would want all of it to have been obtained honestly from a broker you can trust.”

“Oh. absolutely!”

“So, I’m sure that, between your love of precious stones and your broker, you did not come to me for another appraisal.”

“No, you silly boy!” Willow tapped his lap playfully. “I want you to use these stones to design exciting new pieces.”

“Really?”

“Why not? Nearly all these are vintage designs, and I want something modern, dazzling, and…”

“In the spirit of Bulgari,
mais oui
?”

“But of course
,
monsieur. You know me too well.”

“I imagine you know that it would be more economical to just acquire the gems that you want for the piece that you are designing than to purchase antique pieces such as these.”

“Yes. At first, I thought about doing just that. But a few of these I’ve had for many years. When I first acquired pieces like this antique necklace and bracelet, I thought I’d like to keep them as you see them now. But then I fell wildly in love with Bulgari, and I thought I’d be a lot happier if I had all these pieces reinvented in tribute to his genius.”

The truth was that the few pieces that did not belong to Julia, Pamela, or other friends and family were merely subterfuge to provide cover for her cache of stolen jewels.
 

“How soon could you transform these into new works?” she asked.

“We’ll start with some design sketches, and go from there. Once you approve my concepts, we’ll settle on a price. I can have the sketches to you in two weeks.”

“Wonderful! Let’s shoot for September. I want to have new pieces by the time William and I celebrate our first anniversary.

I will make it my top priority.” He reached for her hand. “Willow, thank you for entrusting me with all these beautiful gems.”
 

“Jacques, think nothing of it. Where would we be without friends we can trust?

At the very same moment that Willow and Jacques were busy discussing how the numerous precious stones she had brought could be placed in new settings, Guilbert was back in his office examining the result of his faux smoke detector’s video recording.
 

He was so amazed at what he saw that he picked up the phone to call his client almost immediately.

“This video of Willow and Kozlov is stunning,” Guilbert explained in the perfect English he acquired as the result of being raised in London by a French father and an American mother.
 

“It’s really that good?” his employer asked.

“That good? I could sell this on the open market as a porn video, that’s how good it is!” Even the detective was amazed by the quality of the picture captured by a tiny camera inside the non-working clone of a faux smoke detector.
 

“Make me two copies on SD memory cards and send them to me at my office. I’ll wire you the balance of your money the moment I receive your package. Remember to send me your out of pocket expenses, too. I only want there to be one more payment exchanged between us.
 

“Done. I’ll put it in an air-express pack for shipment tonight.”

Guilbert had no reason to doubt his client. He had worked for him in the past, usually in the area of corporate espionage.
 

As he uploaded the digital file onto two empty memory cards, it was very hard for him to resist the urge to make another copy. What a handsome price this video would bring on the open market!
 

But Guilbert took his responsibilities seriously. As tempting as it was, he knew that the product of both his risk and ingenuity would remain locked away in his safe to be removed only for his own viewing pleasure.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Willow laid peacefully in the fully reclined sleeper seat on her morning nonstop flight aboard Air France to San Francisco. She was pleased with the trip. The public appearances went well, and the
Georges Cinq
was the perfect reward for two days of long hours. As she told William on her call right before takeoff, “I don’t know what I find more exhausting—the fans or LeBon.”

Predictably, William told her what he had before, “You could always put an end to your modeling and traveling days. God only knows, you have the money to never work another day in your life, if you chose to do that.”

“I know, dearest. But I’m just an old fashioned working girl. I’ll give it up one day, I promise.”

“Well, hurry home. I miss you.”

“You’re all I’ve thought of every moment since I landed in Paris.”

Of all the highlights of her brief trip, however, the afternoon she spent with Jacques pleased her the most. She happily enjoyed visions of the gorgeous new jewelry she would be showing off at her first Belvedere Ball. Poor Pamela and Julia would be sick over the loss of their favorite pieces, never suspecting that their missing gems would be there that night…hiding in plain sight.
 

Willow smiled with delight. It was all such great fun!

James finally had what he wanted. And best of all, it cost him only five thousand dollars. By the time he came into the office on the morning after speaking with Guilbert, the two SD memory cards he had ordered were already sitting on his desk. The package contained a vinyl binder labeled, “Confidential - Business Prospectus”