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There, nestled in silky black velvet, rested her most prized possession. The one thing that she hadn't gotten rid of during her transition from the wrong side of the law to the right. The reason that Marco had been chasing her and causing so much trouble.
The Comtesse De Vendome—116 diamonds— perfect, stunning examples of what the gemstone should be, in twin ropes converging onto the showstopper. The centerpiece, a 125-carat diamond. The necklace glittered with icy fire and flashes of color even in the limited light.
"Holy shit," her husband whispered.
"The allure was the status of owning the piece. Like, the pendant belonged to royalty, then to the Pink Panther. So, he needed to take it from the owners. Needed to boast and flaunt his abilities in the hopes that people would talk about him." She looked at him then. "I stole it before he could. Whenever someone talks about the necklace, or reports list the item as still missing, my name is the one whispered, not his," Staring at the shimmer of diamonds, Blue remembered the meeting like it was yesterday.
*****
HE SAT PERCHED ON A ratty chair across the round table, slim figure folded almost daintily. Slicked and shined, the oil in his hair reflected the swinging light bulb hanging from the ceiling. He looked as pale as Gomez Addams, with a mustache and suit like the character's.
Blue rolled her eyes, dropping into another chair. "Are we slumming today, Marco?"
"Your actions have forced us to adjourn to such an establishment." His tone sounded clipped and cultured, dripping with displeasure.
Blue snorted, eyebrow raised. "Laying it on thick too, I see. I delivered the ring early, I might add, which should net us a delightful bonus. The news says the cops are no closer to securing suspects than they were in the beginning. What's the problem?"
"The risks you take are unnecessary, and they reflect poorly on me. You work under my name, as my apprentice and partner. There are standards we must adhere to. This will be your last chance. If you don't complete this task in the appropriate fashion, I will terminate our business dealings." Marco slid a file across the table to her.
"Tell me about the job," Blue said, bringing them back to the task on hand. She didn't bother to pick up the manila folder, trying to contain her irritation, but failing. She ignored him as he ever so slightly glanced down at her bouncing foot. She wouldn't have been able to read the file in the dimness, in any event. He can just tell me, she thought.
"A thirty-million-dollar necklace called The Comtesse De Vendome is being kept in a penthouse here in Vegas. The Pink Panthers stole it from a Tokyo jewelry boutique in 2004. While some believe that the idiots broke up the diamonds and sold the individual pieces, I have word, on good authority, they left it intact. They gave the police a merry chase until they sold the pendant to Yusuf Mousavi, a collector from Tehran. A big deal in real estate, Yusuf came to Las Vegas looking to own the American Dream—a casino. The main selling point for the Persian was their circus. Belly dancers, fire breathers, leopards, camels and a showgirl who he called the Diamond of the Desert. He gave his diamond, Avery Bishop, the necklace. A smart business woman, Avery's lawyers included the Comtesse into her prenup as the piece was part of her costume and persona. They divorced not long after," Marco drawled.
"A shrewd woman." Blue admired that.
"A stupid man," Marco countered.
Blue shrugged. Men often were, usually with something else on their mind when in the presence of the opposite sex. Marco had his bouts of idiocy when women were involved as well. Herself included, in his list of bad decisions.
This case presented itself as being perfect, but Blue made sure to not show her interest. She wanted Marco to think this was just another job. She had another plan, a plan that had been circling in her mind for months. For now, the idea belonged to her and would stay her little secret.
*****
SHE CAME BACK TO HERSELF as Nash ground out, "Bluebell Storm, I could strangle you."
She didn't mention the slip, his use of his last name as her own. Instead, she laughed, closing the lid, once again hiding the necklace in darkness. "Do me a favor. Don't tell Marco I still have it when you go to re-interview him. I don't want him trying to find me here. Take Butters with you."
"You want me to just leave you alone in this apartment... with stolen merchandise?" Nash gaped.
Lifting her shoulders, she said. "I don't know why not. What good does having the necklace—what are you going to do with it right now? If you take it, hide the thing in evidence or whatever you do with things like these, behind your walls, it's going to end the game. Marco will have no reason to stay."
She watched him struggle. He tucked his hands in his pockets. With his hands buried in his pants, he looked like he was struggling to ignore the tiny voice in his head—demanding he yank the case from her hands. The move also stopped him from doing something else—like arresting her on the spot.
Which, Blue thought, was exactly what he wanted to do right at this moment. The only thing stopping him was that he knew she spoke the truth. He also wouldn't want Butters to beat the shit out of him so he couldn't finish this case. "I suppose, on one condition. You give the necklace to the museum when the case is over. They can track down the rightful owner. I'll allow you to do whatever you want....whatever anonymous fashion you prefer." He looked like he’d swallowed a lemon making the deal with her.
"It's one of the most famous jewelry pieces in history," she said simply, knowing that the museum would want to hang on to the Comtesse if she gave it up.
"Is it?" He stepped further back from the counter. "I don't want to hear any more."
"Plausible deniability?" she chuckled. "Something like that. It'll be bad enough that it turns up right after all this is over. I'm leaving the damn thing here, for God's sake! People will speculate."
By people, Blue was sure that he meant his bosses and team. The people in his life that really meant something to him would be suspicious—no longer trusting. "Remember, I could make you famous for finding this great missing treasure. Your reputation will go through the roof, special agent. Signing autographs," she teased.
"Don't threaten me, Blue. Auto... No. Don't want to even consider it," he griped on the way out. "Not going to do it."
Blue ran toward the door and called out into the hall. "Hey, do you want to talk about anything else?"
Butters stood stone still, looking forward in military rest, watching their drama and holding the elevator door for her husband.
"Hell no. Not right now!" Nash called back as the two entered the box and the doors slid closed, so she could no longer see them.