“It’s exceptional,” the jeweler says, rolling the pearl between finger and thumb as he examines it through an eyepiece. “If it’s what I think it is, it’s very rare indeed.”
I produce the necklace in its clam case. “Could it have come from this?”
He takes the case and nods approvingly at the Japanese characters. “Kokichi Mikimoto. You don’t see these very often.” Lifting out the necklace, he holds it up to the light, comparing it with the loose one. “Yes, it’s a definite match. As I thought, they’re keshi pearls.”
“ ‘Keshi pearls’? What does that mean?”
“Saltwater keshi are the rarest pearls of all, particularly when they’re almost round, like these. They come from oysters that had more than one pearl—twins, in other words. Because they have no nucleus they acquire this unusual, glowing luster. And as I said, extremely rare. At some point, I imagine, the necklace snapped and the pearls came off. The owner had it restrung, but he or she missed one.”
“I see.” At least, I understand what the man’s saying. But the implication—that Edward gave me a necklace he’d previously given to someone else—is going to take rather more digesting.
As I leave the shop, I reach for my cellphone.
“Simon,” I say when he answers. “Do you happen to know if Edward Monkford gave Emma a necklace? And if so, whether it ever got broken?”