Kill Me If You Can by James Patterson Read Free Book Online

magnets in the area. Heading west on 47th Street, I entered a completely different world, where Hasidic Jews in long black coats haggled in a language I couldn’t understand, making deals on the sidewalk and cementing them with handshakes.
    The Diamond District. I’d been here before but never on business.
    I walked into the National Jewelers Exchange at 2 West 47th Street. Hundreds of vendors, each with his or her own little booth, were buying and selling gold, silver, fine jewelry, watches, and, of course, diamonds.
    Chana Leventhal, a broad woman in her sixties, caught me staring at the diamond rings in her showcase. “You look like a young man in search of an engagement ring,” she said.
    “Just the opposite,” I said. “I just got one returned to me.”
    “Oy, she dumped you?”
    I nodded.
    “But she gave you the ring back.”
    “I think she did,” I said. I reached into my pocket and held out one of my five stones. “She only gave me the diamond, and I don’t know if she switched the real one for a piece of glass.”
    “Let me see,” Chana said. “I know a professional.”
    She took the stone from me before I could answer. “Shmuel,” she said to a man sitting at a jeweler’s workbench facing away from the counter. “He got jilted. Give a look.”
    She handed him the diamond and he put a jeweler’s loupe in his eye and studied the stone for about twenty seconds. He stood up and walked toward me. He was short, with a neatly trimmed gray beard and the yellowed teeth of a longtime smoker.
    He handed me the diamond. “You can relax,” he said. “It’s kosher. Where did you buy it?”
    “Colorado.”
    He shrugged and looked at his wife.
    “You should have come here,” she said. “Colorado overcharges.”
    “What did you pay?” Shmuel said. “Fifteen thousand?”
    “Sixteen plus tax,” I said.
    “Goniffs,” he said.
    Chana looked at me. “It means ‘crooks,’ ‘robbers.’”
    Shmuel shook his head. “It’s a decent-quality stone, about a carat, maybe a carat and a quarter, good color, and very slightly included—which means I can tell it’s not perfect, but you can’t. I would have sold it to you with a nice setting for twelve thousand.”
    “How much would you pay if I wanted to sell it to you?” I asked.
    “Half. Six thousand.”
    “Thank you,” I said. “You’ve been very helpful. I’ll think about it.”
    “Better you should keep it,” Chana said. “You’re a good-looking young man; you’ll find another girl better than the first one. Bring the diamond back and Shmuel will make a nice ring for you.”
    I thanked them again, walked across the street, and started the process all over again.
    I talked to ten diamond dealers so that each of my diamonds got two opinions. The diamonds were all in the one-to-one-and-a-half-carat range and all about the same quality. Nine of the dealers quoted me a price that averaged out to sixty-two hundred dollars. The tenth guy told me my diamond was a fake and offered to take it off my hands for a hundred bucks. I guess there are goniffs wherever you go.
    I figured there were about twenty-one hundred diamonds in the bag. If I could sell them for sixty-two hundred bucks a pop, I’d wind up with about thirteen million dollars. But I wasn’t greedy. I’d happily take less for a quick sale.
    I stood on the corner of 47th Street and Sixth Avenue and called Katherine. “I’ve got great news,” I said.
    “Tell me, tell me.”
    “I’m throwing a party. Tonight. Eight o’clock.”
    “What are you celebrating?”
    “I’ve got thirteen million reasons to celebrate,” I said.
    “I’m busy,” Katherine said. “Give me one.”
    “I’m in love with the most wonderful woman in the world.”
    “That’s terrific,” she said. “I’d love to meet her. I’ll see you tonight.”

Chapter 18
    I couldn’t tell people the real reason I was throwing the party, so I e-mailed and texted everybody I wanted to see that night. And a few I