MOONLIGHT ON DIAMONDS by LYDIA STORM Read Free Book Online Page A

Veronica.”
    “Mm-hmm.”
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t
hear that. Did you say yes?” he asked in the same tone he used to interrogate
the crack dealers and two-bit stoolies who used to make his life hell when he
still worked for the Feds.
    She gave him a look,
and sauntered over to his chair. She plastered on a big smile and stuck her
hand out like a robot. “I’m Veronica Rossmore. I’m so pleased to make your
acquaintance. Thank you so much for coming to see us in our home. We are very
appreciative.” She shook his hand mechanically, dropped the smile, and went
back to her chair.
    “Nice brooch,” he
observed, ignoring her rudeness. “Looks like…,” he thought about it for a
moment, “Gillot or Cartier, early 1900s.”
    She swiveled in her
chair and looked him up and down again. “So, you can do more than point a gun.”
    “Where did you get
it?” he asked.
    She got up again and
slid onto the arm of his chair, unpinning the glittering brooch from the breast
of her cardigan and handed it to him. He took it gingerly. The piece was
exquisitely made up of diamonds and platinum arranged in the shape of a
charming little bow with two pear-shaped stones hanging like teardrops from the
bottom of each ribbon. The value was not in the quantity of diamonds used,
which equaled less than three carats he estimated, but in the incredible
craftsmanship. He flipped the brooch around and checked out the maker’s mark.
Gillot, just as he’d predicted.
    “It was my
grandmother’s,” she informed him proudly.
    He handed it back to
her. “Don’t wear it on the subway.”
    “I don’t take the
subway,” she said rising, all chumminess gone.
    “I was kidding.”
    “Hmm.” She settled
back into her chair by the fire and picked up a book.
    The maid arrived with
a modern set of ceramic cups and a squat teapot on a matching tray that looked
a little out of place in the old-fashioned parlor.
    “Thank you, Iris.”
Veronica ignored the tea and flipped the page of her book.
    “Thank you,” mumbled
John as Iris once more slipped out of the room.
    He sat uneasily in
front of the tea set watching Veronica lazily read as if she were completely
alone in the room.
    “Aren’t you going to
have some tea?” he asked to break the silence.
    “Yes,” she said,
without moving at all.
    John looked at the
steaming pot and looked at her. If she was waiting for him to serve her, she
could wait forever.
    She licked her thumb
and flipped another page.
    “Can I pour you
some?” he asked.
    The book was raised
up higher now covering most of her face and she had turned even more toward the
fire on her swiveling chair.
    “No, thanks,” she
answered after a moment’s pause, as if he had dragged her away from some fascinating
sentence and she needed a moment to compute what he had asked her. She waved a
hand from behind the big armchair, fluttering fingers toward the tea tray.
“Feel free to pour yourself a cup,” she advised him.
    Grudgingly, he gave
into temptation and poured a cup.
    Five minutes or so
passed and he observed, “I feel like I’m in the waiting room of a really
expensive shrink’s office, or maybe the dentist.”
    She smiled in genuine
amusement, whether at his wit or the uncomfortable position she was putting him
in he couldn’t tell, but she put the book down. “I suppose I should be straight
with you.”
    “I would like that.”
John placed his cup on the table now that they were getting down to business.
    “I’m sorry you’ve
gone to the trouble of coming here, but I have no intention of allowing anyone
to babysit me. My father insisted I meet you and see how harmless and
unobtrusive you would be, but it doesn’t matter. I’m a private person.” She
looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t like people hanging around.”
    “You’re kidding?”
John snapped sarcastically.
    “You can wait for my
father, if you like, and we can go through the charade. I promise you, though,
after you leave, I will let