Hidden Gems (19 page)

But she’d changed.

She closed her eyes, silently thanking Jamie for widening her focus beyond her job and helping her to understand the value of keeping a good character. She’d do the right thing, but she wouldn’t end up in a Miami storefront either.

“Then you should be the one to handle her. Either you make nice—” Howard’s pause was punctuated by a thump against the door frame “—or you see that she stays out of our business. Permanently.”

The ruthlessness from a man she’d trusted was too much. With a gasp, Marissa bolted upright. The instinctive reaction almost made her drop her shoes and bag. She clutched at them, biting down on her tongue to keep from making another sound.

Thankfully, the men hadn’t heard her. They moved away, breaking off the conversation and going in separate directions. After several minutes she crept to the doorway and peered along the corridor. Her heart was still pounding. Her mouth tasted like cotton.

The door to Paul’s office was closed. She couldn’t see Mr. Howard’s spacious corner office from her vantage point.

She hesitated, contemplating the distance through the reception area and out the doors. Five seconds and she’d be free, if she ran. But strolling would look less suspicious. Either way, if they saw her, she was toast.

The hell with it. She ran.

Smack-dab into Jamie, coming through the doors from the other side.

“What’s going on?”

She threw him a quick hug, then pulled away to thrust her brief-bag into his arms. “Elevator first.”

He punched the call button.

While waiting for the elevator to arrive, she hopped from one foot to the other, shoving her feet into her shoes. Jamie kept asking her what was wrong.

“Just hold on.” She threw a nervous glance at the doors, fearing they’d open at any second. “I’ll explain everything as soon as we’re out of here.”

Jamie also looked back. “I was coming to see Paul.”

She blinked. “What for?”

“Uh. I was going to—”

“Beat him up for me?”

“Verbally, maybe. I thought it was time I confronted him head on. Put a stop to his harassment, and a few other things too.”

“And so you made an appointment?” That was Jamie all over.

“Not really an appointment. I called, but he refused. So I came anyway. I figured at the end of the day, with less people around—”

She broke off the explanation. “Listen. After what I just overheard, that might not be a good idea. I’ve had quite an education.”

“What do you mean?” He looked into her eyes and was alarmed by what he saw there. “You’re scared.”

She swallowed, but the words tumbled out anyway. “I made a big mistake going to Thomas Howard with my suspicions. Part of it was that I was trying to save my job, but I also thought that I could trust him to do the right thing. But he’s involved in the scheme—whatever Paul did in the Caymans. I did get confirmation that they hired the burglar.”

The elevator chime went off. The doors slid open. She stepped inside. Jamie did not.

“Come on! We have to go now.”

Just then Paul emerged from the office doors, looking pleased with himself until he saw Jamie and Marissa. His face darkened. “I told you I have nothing—”

He never got to finish. Jamie took him down with one well-placed blow to his perfect cleft chin.

Leaving Paul groaning on the floor, Jamie stepped into the elevator car. He shook his hand, as casually as if he played prize fighter every day before dinner. “Where to?”

This time Marissa didn’t hesitate. “Take me to the police.”

The sudden violence had startled her, especially coming from Jamie. But as they descended to safety, she decided that there was a great deal of ironic satisfaction in seeing Paul Beckwith fold like a cheap suit.

MARISSA PUT HER resignation in the mail the following morning. Then she sat on the sofa and looked around her apartment, trying to decide what to do. For the first time in ten—no, almost fifteen years, she had nothing to do.

Searching for another job could wait until Monday.

As much as she itched to call Ophelia to get the gossip from the office, she stopped herself. Guilty conscience, perhaps. Her decision to go to the police might result in innocent employees losing their jobs. O’s position was almost certainly in jeopardy. If at all possible, Marissa would employ her friend in her next position.

If she got one.

She jiggled her foot. Her nails bit into her palms. Future employment was debatable, especially after the word got out that she’d become a whistleblower.

The police hadn’t been overly impressed with either her tale of skullduggery at the law firm or the photographic evidence. A daunting white-collar crime to investigate, they’d said—and off-shore, too—especially when no one knew if there’d really been a crime. Officer O’Connor had promised to notify the proper authorities, which could include the IRS, the New York State bar association, even the Feds, if her suspicions of embezzlement or money laundering were true.

The cops’ first cursory check on Belbano had revealed not only that he had a record of embezzlement, but that he’d made frequent trips to the Caymans in the past two years. Whether he was employed by one of the firm’s clients, or even by the partnership itself, remained a mystery for now.

The officers had brightened when she’d given them the private investigator’s name as the link between the thug Freddy Bascomb and Howard, Coffman, Ellis and Schnitzer. Even if the other investigation went nowhere, it was almost certain they would find evidence of complicity in the breaking and entering of her apartment. Perhaps even of Bascomb’s murder.

McArdle had been brought in for immediate questioning. Inevitably, the trail would reach Paul and the partners, particularly if Shandi agreed to give a statement about how Paul had asked her to snoop.

Marissa winced. The partners would be enraged with her for turning over the evidence. Even Shandi might be a reluctant witness.

Stop beating yourself up. The forthcoming mess at the law firm was not her fault. Nor Paul’s, entirely.

Thomas Howard was ultimately to blame, and any of the other partners who were involved. She sincerely hoped they were not. Other concerns aside, she was appalled that Mr. Howard had used a false paternal relationship to fool her into believing he was a man she could trust.

She’d been so sure of herself, so set in her path, that she’d badly misstepped along the way.

Thank heaven for Jamie. She smiled, just thinking about how he’d punched Paul in the jaw then swept her off to the police station. The boy next door had grown up and become the man she’d been looking for.

Something unique and wonderful had happened between them. She couldn’t say how or why, beyond there being a vague sense of destiny involved.

Harry walked in and cocked his head at Marissa. The tip of his tail twitched. She recognized the signs—he wanted to jump into her lap. Was probably only hesitating because it was so unusual to find her at home during the day, sitting and doing nothing.

Enough thinking! She stood with a, “Sorry, Harry.” Suddenly she knew what she had to do: clean house.

She’d already begun, clearing out and fumigating the closet after Harry had used it for a litter box. Now she wanted to continue, to sweep all her old junk out and make way for a fresh, new life. She wasn’t going to transform into an uber-housewife, that was for sure, but she needed to make a positive start on the future.

The kitchen was in pretty good shape, so she made a pass through the living room, bundling up magazines and mail-order catalogs for recycling, dusting the electronics, fishing out the items that Harry had batted beneath the bookshelves. She washed windows. Vacuumed up cat hair. Then went on to scrub the bathroom.

She moved to the bedroom, followed by Harry, whipping his tail in agitation. Since the closet was clean, she started under the bed, pulling out various items until she got to the empty suitcase. Her carry-on bag fit inside. She went to push them back under the bed.

Bad mojo.

She’d kept her bags packed, figuratively speaking, throughout every relationship of her life, even when it came to how fervently she’d wanted to get away from her father. This time, with Jamie, she’d do it right.

Feeling slightly silly, she carried the suitcases to the closet, stretching on her toes to place them on the top shelf. They tilted precariously, canted on her fingertips. She rose higher. One more inch.

Harry yowled from his perch on the radiator. She lost balance and dropped onto her heels, the suitcase coming down on top of her. It glanced off her head and thudded to the floor. The flap popped open.

“Crap.” Marissa knelt to zip it up. Beneath the bed, a small white object caught her eye. She reached for it. A piece of jewelry. “Where did this come from?”

Not your average necklace, she saw immediately. It appeared to be antique—a piece of ivory carved in the shape of a star. At first she was almost leery to touch it, poking at the piece with only one finger. She realized that she was holding her breath.

The pure white star was too lovely to resist. She picked up the fragile treasure, studying it in the palm of her hand. The ivory was set in gold with a hollow at the center.

So beautiful. She wanted to string it as a necklace and wear it for Jamie.

Marissa cupped it against her chest. The piece was tucked in her palm, the fit so precise, the feel so right that she wished she could keep it forever.

But she couldn’t. The star wasn’t hers.

What was it doing under her bed, hidden by the bag? Could it have fallen out of the suitcase?

The trip to the Caymans, she thought, remembering how she’d joked about discovering that she’d smuggled in a valuable item. ¡Dios mio! Had she?

But the burglar had been after the photos. Paul had admitted as much.

Marissa opened her hand. Warmed by her skin, the star seemed to glow. It had to be rare. Valuable. She must get it evaluated by a professional. And find the rightful owner.

But for now, she owned it, at least for a little while. Why not try it on?

She found a ribbon and threaded it through the small hole in the star, then slipped the necklace over her head. After she’d pulled her hair away from her neck, the star came to rest just below the hollow in her throat.

She went to look in the mirror, taken with the timeless beauty of the piece.

She’d wear it tonight, she decided. For Jamie, the man I love.

HE’D EXPECTED that she would have crashed by now, the reality of her situation hitting home like the crack of a baseball bat. But no. She opened the door, smiling and beautiful in a sleeveless white dress that skimmed her body from a scooped neck that showed off the tops of her breasts to a hem that ended inches above her bare feet. Her hair was up in a neat little braided knot.

“Quitting your job seems to agree with you.”

“Oh, that,” she said airily, lifting and cocking her head.

He thought she wanted him to kiss her cheek, so he did. She gave off a fragrant warmth, like a woman fresh from an exotically spiced and scented bath. His constant desire for her flared higher.

Her lips were puckered. Her eyes were large, expectant, framed in thick black lashes and a stroke of smoky color. He sensed she was waiting for him to comment, like a woman with a new hairstyle.

His eyes swept her, lingering over her sleek curves, but stopping on the necklace.

He stared, slow to comprehend because he’d only glanced at the Sisman’s story in the paper.

Damn. Did she know?

She stroked her collarbone. “What do you think? Do I do it justice?”

He nodded.

“I found it. Under my bed. When I was cleaning.” She laughed, twirling on her bare feet like a young girl. “Unbelievable! All of it.”

“Do you know what that is?”

“The necklace?”

“The White Star,” he said.

She faltered. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you hear about the auction house theft from a while back? Skip Sisman’s been covering the story for the Village Observer. One of the stolen items was the White Star amulet.”

“You can’t think this is the White Star!”

He shrugged. “Looks like it to me.”

“Oh, come on.” She twisted her neck, trying to look at it. “How can you tell?”

“Well, I could be wrong. For sure, I’m no expert.” He remembered the newspaper folded under his arm and shook it out. “Today’s edition. They finally ran Sisman’s update on the theft, with a sidebar on the history of the amulet.” He folded open the paper, stopping twice to stare at the alluring ivory star around her neck. It caught the eye. “That’s got to be it. The freaking White Star!”

She touched it tentatively. “That’s crazy. I found it in my suitcase.”

He handed her the paper. “Take a look.”

She examined a grainy black-and-white photo that accompanied the article, a thirty-year-old shot of an heiress wearing the amulet to a society party. “I’ll concede that there’s an obvious similarity. Both amulets are the same shape, of course, but this photo isn’t clear enough to make out the details. I’m probably wearing a knock-off version.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I’m not sure.” She touched the star’s face. “The quality is too fine and, well, this might sound preposterous, but it feels real.”

“And you found it in your suitcase?”

“No, the star was under the bed. I saw it after I moved the bag. I think it had fallen from an outside pocket.”

“When Shandi searched your belongings for Paul.”

“Maybe. There’s no way of being certain how or when it happened. I just know that I had no idea I was carrying a valuable amulet.”

Jamie spoke slowly in disbelief. “Someone else must have put it in your bag.”

“Could it have been Paul?”

“I don’t see it.”

“Me, neither,” she agreed. “For one thing, the burglar he hired would have known exactly where to look.” She returned to the article in the paper. “They’re speculating the amulet is from an ancient African civilization,” she mused. “Three thousand years old! Incredible.”

“Stolen property. We have to call the police.”

“They must be sick of me by now. Can’t you just see O’Connor’s face when I tell him this story?” She touched the amulet again, unable to resist even though she knew she should take it off immediately. Just in case. “I thought that I’d get an expert’s opinion first and then…” She sighed.