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Just then, the doorbell rang, and Odelia went to answer it, after darting a quick glance at her husband. Chase sat up a little straighter, and when a tall man walked in, holding a brown leather briefcase in his hand and eagerly glancing around, presumably looking for the Pink Lady, we all jumped up on the couch, to have a first-row seat to the show.

The Pink Lady was finally going to be handed over to its rightful owner.

21

“Is this it—she—her?” asked the tall man. He wore spectacles and had a russet little beard going, and possessed a sort of bouncy, peppy energy, like a puppy. A gangling human puppy. Behind him, a second man had entered at a slower pace. He was short and stocky and had a more meditative air about him, his dark eyes flitting about the room, taking everything in. He had a thick mustache and a weathered sort of face, as if the elements had had their way with it from an early age, and he looked exactly how I imagined a Pinkerton detective would have looked traversing the wild West and collaring the scum of the earth.

“Yes, that’s the Pink Lady,” said Chase as he handed the little box over to the tall guy.

The insurance man opened the box and regarded the diamond in silent admiration. Sunlight hit the stone just so, and splashed a burst of iridescent sparkles on his face, and his mouth actually opened to release a small‘Oh!’

Turns out even tough and hardened insurance people aren’t immune to the allure of an exceptionally pretty pink diamond.

The second man now spoke up for the first time.“A good afternoon, one and all,” he grunted as he went to stand next to the tall man and checked the stone. No little ‘Oh’ sound of admiration escaped this man’s lips, and in fact his hardened features didn’t even change expression at the sight of the Pink Lady. He clearly wasn’t impressed.

“So you’re the expert?” asked Chase, who’d gotten up and walked around the table to greet the men.

“I’m the expert,” said the tall man, who’d taken out a small loupe, and was studying the stone from up close and personal.

“I’m Oscar Godish,” said the Pinkerton detective. “I work for Milestone Partners. And this is Dwayne Late, the world’s foremost diamond expert.” He’d hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, and I found myself wondering where he kept his revolver and his Pinkerton badge.

“So what’s the verdict, Mr. Late?” asked Odelia as the tall man shook his head.

“It’s an exquisite specimen,” he murmured reverently. “Flawless in spite of the unfortunate conditions to which she was subjected. Carried to Mexico and back in the sole of a shoe. Callous, Mrs. Poole. Extremely callous.”

“Yes, it’s a small miracle the stone survived.”

“Found in a pile of sand on the beach, mh? It doesn’t bear thinking what would have happened if that little girl hadn’t found her when she did.”

“Probably washed away into the deep and never seen again,” said Mr. Godish.

“So who is the rightful owner?” asked Chase.

“Well, Sheikh Bab El Ehr, ruler of Khemed, was the original owner,” said the insurance man as he placed the stone back in the box, “but he died in 2015. His eldest son Bab El Ghat became the new ruler upon the death of his father, and so he’s the rightful owner of the Pink Lady.”

“What about the Sheikh’s wife Laura Burns?” asked Odelia. “The stone was set in the engagement ring her husband the Sheikh gave her, so isn’t she the rightful owner?”

“According to Khemed law upon marrying the Sheikh his wives lose all claims to any personal possessions they may have accumulated up to that point, so even though Sheikh Bab El Ehr gave her that ring, it remained his private property when the marriage was officiated. So this little beauty,” he said, tapping the jewel box affectionately, “will finally go home to Khemed.”

“You know, Mayor Butterwick called me this morning,” said Odelia, “and she suggested that we turn the handing over of the Pink Lady into an official event at Town Hall. That way you’d be able to meet the girl who found the diamond, and perhaps give her some kind of token of the Sheikh’s appreciation—her parents would also be there, and the media would of course be represented.”

“Oh, absolutely,” said Mr. Late. “You mean like a photo op with Mr. Godish and myself?”

“It would give you an opportunity to officially thank the Wynns,” said Chase.

“I think that’s a great idea. Don’t you, Oscar?”

“Sounds swell,” said Mr. Godish without much enthusiasm. Then again, your Pinkerton detective just likes to get the job done without too much fuss—or some Town Hall shenanigans.

“Isn’t that nice, Max?” said Dooley. “There’s going to be a big going-away party for the Pink Lady and we’ll all get to say goodbye.”

“Maybe they can thank Johnny and Jerry while they’re at it,” Brutus grunted.

“Oh, of course,” said Dooley. “Johnny did keep the stone nice and safe in his shoe, after all.”

“Oh, Dooley,” Harriet sighed.

“The full story is still not completely clear to me,” said Odelia, the reporter in her stirring itself. “The stone disappeared, when exactly?”