V is for Vengeance

“Beats me. She’s a cool customer. Not a lot of small talk and no explanation.”

“Drugs?”

“I doubt it. Could be gambling, but she doesn’t look like the type. I handed her a check for seven on jewelry appraised at forty-two.”

“Nobody ever said you weren’t generous,” Dante said. “Tell me about the pieces you bought.”

“A pair of cabochon sapphire-and-diamond earrings, probably worth seventeen grand, and an Art Deco sapphire-and-diamond line bracelet worth twenty-five easy. The ring, I don’t like.”

“I’m willing to take a look.”

“I thought you’d see it that way. Let me know what comes of it.”

Dante hung up and buzzed Abbie, asking her to bring in Mrs. Vogelsang. He crossed to the door and watched the two approach. When Abbie showed her into the office, he held out his hand. “Mrs. Vogelsang. A pleasure. I’m Lorenzo Dante. My father’s Lorenzo Senior, so I’m Dante to most. Come in and have a seat.”

“It’s Nora,” she replied, and the two shook hands. Her fingers were cool and slim, her grip strong. Her smile was tentative, and he realized she was ill at ease.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Yes, please. I’d like milk if you have it. No sugar.”

“Make that two,” he said to Abbie.

While she went off to the break room, Dante gestured toward a leather-upholstered chair that was part of a seating arrangement in front of the three big circular windows that looked out onto State. She sat down, placing a large, expensive-looking black leather handbag on the floor next to her. She was trim, petite, in a well-cut black suit that suggested more than it revealed. A delicate scent trailed into the room after her. He settled on the couch, trying not to stare. She was so beautiful he could hardly take his eyes off her. There was an elegance about her, a reserve, he found unsettling. He manufactured small talk while they waited for the coffee, happy to have an excuse to study her at close range. Solemn, dark eyes; sweet mouth. Her gaze traveled across the room, which was awash in tones of gray. The upholstered pieces were covered in Ultrasuede in a deep charcoal shade; the rug a softer gray; the walls paneled in whitewashed walnut.

She turned a curious gaze on him. “May I ask what you do? I assumed you dealt in estate jewelry. This looks like an attorney’s office.”

“I’m a private banker of sorts. I lend money to clients who don’t qualify for loans from traditional institutions. Most prefer to keep their finances out of the public eye. I also own a number of commercial businesses. What about you?”

“My husband’s a lawyer in the industry.”

“The ‘industry’ meaning the film business. So I’ve heard. Channing Vogelsang. You live in Los Angeles?”

“Malibu. We have a second home in Montebello.”

“Nice. You belong to the Montebello Country Club?”

“Nine Palms,” she said, correcting him.

“Maybe you know the Hellers, Robert and his wife?”

“Gretchen. Yes. They’re good friends. As a matter of fact, we’re meeting for dinner at the club next Saturday. How do you know them?”

“Robert and I had business dealings in times past,” Dante said.

“It’s possible I’ll see you there.”

“At the club?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised. You’re not the only one with friends,” he said. “At any rate, I talked to Maurice Berman this morning. He says you have a ring you’d like to sell. May I see it?”

“Certainly.” She reached into her bag and took out a ring box, which she handed him.

He opened the box and found himself looking at a radiant-cut pink diamond, flanked by two white diamonds. “Five carats?”

“Five point four six. The setting is platinum and eighteen-carat gold. The smaller stones total one point seven carats. My husband bought it from a New York dealer several months ago.”

“You know what he paid?”

“A hundred and twenty-five thousand.”

“You have the bill of sale?”

“I don’t have access to it. My husband keeps financial records at the office.”

Dante let that pass, wondering if Channing Vogelsang knew what she was up to. “You mind if I get an outside opinion? I’ve got a gal in the office who’s a trained gemologist.”

“If you like.”

Abbie returned with a tray that held a coffee carafe, two cups and saucers, spoons, and a creamer and a sugar bowl. She placed the tray on the glass-topped coffee table and passed Nora a saucer and cup. Abbie filled hers, being careful not to get the steaming liquid too close to the rim. Nora helped herself to milk from the pitcher while Abbie poured coffee for Dante. Before she left, Dante held out the ring box. “Give this to Lou Elle and have her take a look.”

“Yes, sir.” Abbie left the office with the ring box and closed the door behind her.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said. There was silence while she sipped her coffee. He set his cup aside untouched. “You mind if I ask a few questions?”

She tilted her head in a move that he took as assent.

“The ring was a gift from your husband?”

“Yes.”

“I’m guessing an anniversary. Tenth?”

“Fourteenth. Why do you ask?”

“I’m trying to understand what’s happening here.”

“Nothing complicated,” she said. “I’d prefer the cash.”

“And for this, you’d go behind his back?”

“I’m not going behind his back.”

He lifted one brow. “So he knows you’re doing this?”

“I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

“I’m not trying to be fresh. I’m confused. I thought marriage was about having someone you rely on. Someone you can say anything you want to. No secrets and no holding back. Otherwise what’s the point?”

“This has nothing to do with him. The ring is mine.”

“He won’t notice you’re not wearing it?”

“He knows I don’t care for it. It’s not my style.”

“How much are you asking?”

“Seventy-five.”

Dante watched her face, which was more expressive than she knew. In her life, for some reason, the stakes had gone up. He waited but she didn’t expand. “I’m surprised you’re willing to part with it. No sentiment attached?”

“I’m not comfortable discussing it.”

He smiled. “You want seventy-five grand and it’s not worth a conversation?”

“I didn’t mean it that way. It’s personal.”

He watched her with interest, amused at her refusing to meet his eyes. “Must be very personal to have you salting money away.”

Startled, her gaze came up to his. “What makes you think I’m doing that?”

“Because you sold two other pieces of jewelry. Nothing as pricey as this from what Maurice says.”

“I had no idea he’d discuss it with you. I consider that indiscreet.”

“What, you think there’s a confidentiality clause in a deal like this? Business is business. I figure you’re stockpiling cash and I’m curious.”

She hesitated, not meeting his eyes. “Call it insurance.”

“Mad money.”

“If you like.”

“Fair enough,” he said.