The Cherbourg Jewels by Jenni Wiltz Read Free Book Online Page A

an orphan at the age of eight—she was afraid he’d make some snide comment like, Oh, that explains a lot .  Besides, she’d built her whole life around the search for her father’s killers.  If she told him any tiny detail about it, he could deconstruct her life into all its parts .  H e’d know everything about her, instantly. 
    She thought about something the museum talked about:  diversification.  Maybe she should have diversified her life a bit more, developing friends and interests that had nothing to do with gems and jewelry and murderers.  But she hadn’t.  She’d been a lost, lonely little girl and now she was a lost, lonely grown-up girl.  She didn’t even know what she would do if she weren’t searching for her father’s missing stones.  What was it that normal people did…go to the movies?  Walk on the beach?  Learn to knit? 
    I ’ll do those things when the man who pulled the trigger is behind bars , she thought.
    “Did I bring up a touchy subject?” he asked.
    “No,” she answered quickly.  “I was just trying to think of a polite way to tell you it’s none of your damn business.”
    From the corner of her eyes, she saw him smirk.  “Ms. Wilcox,” he said, “one of these days you’ll learn that is the polite way.”
    She turned her head quickly to hide her smile .
     

Chapter Five
    Sébastien sped from Russian Hill to the Tenderloin, a few shady blocks that held more than their share of homeless people, drug addicts , and thieves.  The Cherbourg Foundation owned and operated three halfway houses in the area, where he sometimes recruited for jobs as part of a charitable welfare-to-work program. 
    He rarely ventured into the neighborhood himself, but like anything else that affected his family, he knew everything about the properties he owned, from the current residents’ names to the crimes they’d been convicted for.  He remembered that one of the Turk Street buildings had rented a room to a man named Eddie DiMarco, recently released after a ten -year stint in Folsom Prison for grand larceny . 
    DiMarco had been in the building for three months, long enough to have a feel for the area—and for who a more experienced thief might turn to fence his stolen goods.
    As he drove, he tried to avoid making eye contact with Ella.  He’d come close to losing his temper with her in the kitchen.  Too close.  Usually, it was easy for him to keep his feelings behind a wall of disdain or disinterest, but something about her was getting under his skin. 
    He couldn’t tell whether it was the way she pelted him with questions, the way she stood up to him or the silent fear that never left her eyes. 
    She didn’t seem to be afraid of him the way most people were, yet something obviously had her spooked.  What was it?  And where had she learned to stand her ground like that?  Half of the board members of his foundation were too afraid to challenge him or ask him to explain his reasoning.  She’d already done more than they ever had, and for what?  To defend her favorite coat? 
    It made no sense.  She made no sense.  If she had that much instinct and initiative, why wasn’t she a high-powered executive?  Why was she wasting her time looking at old pieces of jewelry?  Everything with her only led to more questions.
    He pulled up in front of the halfway house, a two-story ochre brick building with a white porch and cornice.  “This is it,” he said.
    “What are we doing here?” Ella asked.  “This place is kind of creepy.”
    “We’re going to talk to someone.  Come on.”  He got out of the car and hurried around to open Ella’s door for her.  Nuisance or not, she was still a woman and Cherbourg men opened doors for women. 
    He grasped her arm as she exited the vehicle, both to make sure she stayed safe and to make sure she didn’t run away.  He hadn’t forgotten that she might be the thief, after all.       
    “Are you sure you’re comfortable