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

him know in no uncertain terms that I am not
interested in…”
    But she stopped
midsentence at the sound of the door closing downstairs. John and Veronica
stood awkwardly as Buzzy Rossmore climbed the steps to the parlor.
    The archeologist had
a bright, welcoming smile on his face as he entered the room. His manner was
warm and jovial. John liked him on sight. Buzzy was clad in an older style,
gray flannel suit with a crisp white handkerchief poking out of his breast
pocket, which nearly matched the shock of hair that stood out on his head. His
sparkling blue eyes radiated intelligence and had a certain childlike innocence
to them.
    “Well, John, I’m so
glad you could make it!” exclaimed Buzzy, as if they’d been buddies for years.
    “I’m glad to meet
you,” said John politely.
    Buzzy kissed his
daughter on the cheek. “Hello, sweetheart.” Veronica lifted her brows and threw
herself down on the couch, apparently resigned to the ordeal ahead of her.
    “Please make yourself
comfortable.” Buzzy sunk into the seat by the fire which Veronica had vacated.
    John accepted the
invitation and sat down.
    “So, you’ve had a
chance to meet Veronica.” The old man smiled in his daughter’s direction.
    “Yes,” John said, not
knowing if he should elaborate.
    “Well, Lillian says
you’re a retired FBI man. Though I must say, you look pretty young to be
retired. You must have been doing something right!” He laughed at his own joke
and continued. “Anyway, Lillian said before you left the FBI, you specialized
in catching jewel thieves.”
    It took John a moment
to figure out who Lillian was, until he caught on that the old man was talking
about the First Lady. “Yes, I followed the Ghost around for several years. It
didn’t get me very far though. He’s still at large.”
    “But you captured
several other notorious thieves,” Buzzy commented, enthusiastically.
    “I did help bring a
few people down,” admitted John.
    “Well then, what we’d
like you to do should be child’s play for someone with your background. We
don’t want you to catch any thieves, just make sure no one gets their hands on
any of Veronica’s treasures.”
    John looked over at
Veronica. She sat tight-lipped with her arms crossed over her breasts, her
Gillot brooch shimmering like fairy dust in the late afternoon sunlight.
    “I’d like to help
you, Mr. Rossmore,” John said, trying to be polite. “But your daughter says she
doesn’t want a bodyguard.”
    “It’s true, Daddy,”
she said quickly. “If you’d just spoken to me about this before dragging…,” she
looked at John, obviously trying to remember his name.
    He helped her out.
“John.”
    She ignored him. “You
know I hate having people around. I’ll have no privacy at all.”
    As John watched her
try to convince Buzzy, he remembered something from his doings with the
Manhattan blue bloods. During his time tracking jewel thieves, it was
inevitable that he would pick up a little Park Avenue gossip. It must have been
about three years ago that he had heard about Veronica and her husband who had
thrown her down the grand staircase at the Metropolitan Museum’s Costume
Institute Ball in a jealous rage. There had been lots of pictures of the event
floating around the tabloids. That year the ball’s theme had been ‘Goddesses’
and Veronica had come dressed as the Egyptian deity Isis. She had adorned
herself in a vintage 1930s beaded gown and piles of the gems her father had
given her during their time on archeological trips to the East.
    There had been one
particular photo of Veronica lying unconscious at the foot of the staircase
with her ball dress fanned out all around her, her shapely legs exposed, and
her head thrown back showing off a swan’s neck encased in an exotic necklace.
She had looked like a fancy broken doll flung on the ground by a careless
child. Standing over her was her drunk husband, his black bow tie hanging loose
around his neck, his jaw