And Thereby Hangs a Tale Read online

  Jeremy had a feeling that Mr. Crombie might just have delivered that line before. “No doubt there’s a quite unique price to go with it.” He handed the ring to Crombie, who placed it back in the box.

  “Eight hundred and fifty-four thousand pounds,” he said in a hushed voice.

  “Do you have a loupe?” asked Jeremy. “I’d like to study the stone more closely.” Arabella had taught him the word diamond merchants use when referring to a small magnifying glass, assuring him that it would make him sound as if he regularly frequented such establishments.

  “Yes, of course, sir,” said Crombie, pulling open a drawer on his side of the table and extracting a small tortoiseshell loupe. When he looked back up, there was no sign of the Kandice Diamond, just a gaping space in the top row of the box.

  “Do you still have the ring?” he asked, trying not to sound concerned.

  “No,” said Jeremy. “I handed it back to you a moment ago.”

  Without another word, the assistant snapped the box closed and pressed the button below his side of the table. This time he didn’t indulge in any small talk while he waited. A moment later, two burly, flat-nosed men who looked as if they’d be more at home in a boxing ring than De Beers entered the room. One remained by the door while the other stood a few inches behind Jeremy.

  “Perhaps you’d be kind enough to return the ring,” said Crombie in a firm, flat, unemotional voice.

  “I’ve never been so insulted,” said Jeremy, trying to sound insulted.

  “I’m going to say this only once, sir. If you return the ring, we will not press charges, but if you do not—”

  “And I’m going to say this only once,” said Jeremy, rising from his seat. “The last time I saw the ring was when I handed it back to you.”

  Jeremy turned to leave, but the man behind him placed a hand firmly on his shoulder and pushed him back down into the chair. Arabella had promised him there would be no rough stuff as long as he cooperated and did exactly what they told him. Jeremy remained seated, not moving a muscle. Crombie rose from his place and said, “Please follow me.”

  One of the heavyweights opened the door and led Jeremy out of the room, while the other remained a pace behind him. At the end of the corridor they stopped outside a door marked PRIVATE. The first guard opened the door and they entered another room which once again contained only one table, but this time it wasn’t covered in a velvet cloth. Behind it sat a man who looked as if he’d been waiting for them. He didn’t invite Jeremy to sit, as there wasn’t another chair in the room.

  “My name is Granger,” the man said without expression. “I’ve been the head of security at De Beers for the past fourteen years, having previously served as a detective inspector with the Metropolitan Police. I can tell you there’s nothing I haven’t seen, and no story I haven’t heard before. So do not imagine even for one moment that you’re going to get away with this, young man.”

  How quickly the fawning sir had been replaced by the demeaning young man, thought Jeremy.

  Granger paused to allow the full weight of his words to sink in. “First, I am obliged to ask if you are willing to assist me with my inquiries, or whether you would prefer us to call in the police, in which case you will be entitled to have a solicitor present.”

  “I have nothing to hide,” said Jeremy haughtily, “so naturally I’m happy to cooperate.” Back on script.

  “In that case,” said Granger, “perhaps you’d be kind enough to take off your shoes, jacket, and trousers.”

  Jeremy kicked off his loafers, which Granger picked up and placed on the table. He then removed his jacket and handed it to Granger as if he was his valet. After taking off his trousers he stood there, trying to look appalled at the treatment he was being subjected to.

  Granger spent some considerable time pulling out every pocket of Jeremy’s suit, then checking the lining and the seams. Having failed to come up with anything other than a handkerchief—there was no wallet, no credit card, nothing that could identify the suspect, which made him even more suspicious—Granger placed the suit back on the table. “Your tie?” he said, still sounding calm.

  Jeremy undid the knot, pulled off the old Etonian tie and put it on the table. Granger ran the palm of his right hand across the blue stripes, but again, nothing. “Your shirt.” Jeremy undid the buttons slowly, then handed his shirt over. He stood there shivering in just his pants and socks.

  As Granger checked the shirt, for the first time the hint of a smile appeared on his lined face when he touched the collar. He pulled out two silver Tiffany collar stiffeners. Nice touch, Arabella, thought Jeremy as Granger placed them on the table, unable to mask his disappointment. He handed the shirt back to Jeremy, who replaced the collar stiffeners before putting his shirt and tie back on.

  “Your underpants, please.”

  Jeremy pulled down his pants and passed them across. Another inspection, which he knew would reveal nothing. Granger handed them back and waited for him to pull them up before saying, “And finally your socks.”

  Jeremy pulled off his socks and laid them out on the table. Granger was now looking a little less sure of himself, but he still checked them carefully before turning his attention to Jeremy’s loafers. He spent some time tapping, pushing, and even trying to pull them apart, but there was nothing to be found. To Jeremy’s surprise, he once again asked him to remove his shirt and tie. When he’d done so, Granger came round from behind the table and stood directly in front of him. He raised both his hands, and for a moment Jeremy thought the man was going to hit him. Instead, he pressed his fingers into Jeremy’s scalp and ruffled his hair the way his father used to do when he was a child, but all he ended up with was greasy nails and a few stray hairs for his trouble.

  “Raise your arms,” he barked. Jeremy held his arms high in the air, but Granger found nothing under his armpits. He then stood behind Jeremy. “Raise one leg,” he ordered. Jeremy raised his right leg. There was nothing taped underneath the heel, and nothing between the toes. “The other leg,” said Granger, but he ended up with the same result. He walked round to face him once again. “Open your mouth.” Jeremy opened wide as if he was in the dentist’s chair. Granger shone a pen-torch round his cavities, but didn’t find so much as a gold tooth. He could not hide his discomfort as he asked Jeremy to accompany him to the room next door.

  “May I put my clothes back on?”

  “No, you may not,” came back the immediate reply.

  Jeremy followed him into the next room, feeling apprehensive about what torture they had in store for him. A man in a long white coat stood waiting next to what looked like a sun bed. “Would you be kind enough to lie down so that I can take an X-ray?” he asked.

  “Happily,” said Jeremy, and climbed onto the machine. Moments later there was a click and the two men studied the results on a screen. Jeremy knew it would reveal nothing. Swallowing the Kandice Diamond had never been part of their plan.

  “Thank you,” said the man in the white coat courteously, and Granger added reluctantly, “You can get dressed now.”

  Once Jeremy had his new school tie on, he followed Granger back into the interrogation room, where Crombie and the two guards were waiting for them.

  “I’d like to leave now,” Jeremy said firmly.

  Granger nodded, clearly unwilling to let him go, but he no longer had any excuse to hold him. Jeremy turned to face Crombie, looked him straight in the eye and said, “You’ll be hearing from my solicitor.” He thought he saw him grimace. Arabella’s script had been flawless.

  The two flat-nosed guards escorted him off the premises, looking disappointed that he hadn’t tried to escape. As Jeremy stepped back out onto the crowded Piccadilly pavement, he took a deep breath and waited for his heartbeat to return to something like normal before crossing the road. He then strolled confidently back into the Ritz and took his seat opposite Arabella.

  “Your coffee’s gone cold, darling,” she said, as if he’d just been to the