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Chase, who was standing next to her, looked up in surprise, and a happy smile flitted across his face, then disappeared again, replaced by his standard cop-on-duty expression.

The Sheikh, who was younger than I thought, smiled and extended his hands.“Well, when can I feast my eyes on this precious stone? Or do you want to keep me in suspense?”

“Here she is,” said Marge, and handed the stone to the Sheikh. She’d placed it back in its box, and when the Sheikh opened the box, he blinked at the stone’s sheer splendor.

“Oh, my,” he said. “This certainly is a gorgeous specimen, isn’t it, Sharif?”

He held it up so his advisor could take a peek, but the man didn’t look particularly impressed.

“Very nice,” were his only words, spoken without much excitement.

“I thought this stone was lost forever, and now all of a sudden here it is,” said the Sheikh as he stared at the diamond, mesmerized.

“It was a lucky coincidence that it was found on our shores, your highness,” Odelia agreed.

“Please, just call me Bab,” said the young Sheikh with a wave of the hand. He was a handsome ruler, with slicked-back dark hair and eyes the color of amber. He was dressed in designer jeans, a pink polo shirt and sneakers, unlike his advisor Sharif, who was dressed in a gray suit and sporting sunglasses, even though we were indoors. They both looked pretty hip and cool, I thought.

“So what are you going to do with the stone… Bab?” asked Chase.

“I think I’ll put it on display in our national museum,” said the Sheikh with a little nod of satisfaction as he clicked the jewel box closed and pocketed it.

“Sir?” said Sharif.

“Yes, I don’t want to lock it up in a vault. I want the people of Khemed to be able to admire its beauty. So the museum is the best place.”

“You’re not going to give it to one of your wives?” asked Marge.

“One of my wives?” said the Sheikh with a curt laugh. “As far as I’m aware I only have one wife.”

“Oh, I just assumed…”

“One of our traditions I decided to dispense with,” the Sheikh explained. “And now please tell me all about the Pink Lady, and how it ended up in Hampton Cove of all places.”

“I think the person best placed to tell you that story,” said Odelia, “is this lady over here. Loretta? Will you do the honors?”

“Loretta wrote a very interesting book about the Pink Lady and its history,” Marge explained. “Which is why we asked her to be present when we handed you the diamond.”

Loretta looked a little uncomfortable as she took a short curtsy, then said,“Your highness… Bab.”

“So you wrote a book about the Pink Lady? I haven’t read it yet, but now I can’t wait.”

“I think you’ll find it very interesting,” said Marge. “It’s based on a real story.”

Loretta gave Marge an icy glance.“Marge is flattering me. I’m afraid the book is a figment of my imagination. Inspired by the true story of the Pink Lady, but only in a very limited way.”

“Oh,” said the Sheikh, slightly disappointed, then turned to Marge, clearly expecting an explanation.

“Loretta looks very uncomfortable, Max,” said Dooley.

“Yes, she does,” I agreed.

When we’d arrived at the hotel, and had knocked on Loretta’s door for the second time that day, she’d been most surprised to see us. She also looked very flustered, presumably because she’d been looking everywhere for that diamond that had gone missing. Which is probably also why she gave us a look of extreme suspicion. So when Odelia had invited her to be present at the official handing over of the famous diamond to its rightful owner, her eyes had gone wide, but since she couldn’t very well come out and say that she had taken the stone, and especially with Chase right there, she reluctantly decided to play along, no doubt all the while wondering how we’d managed to take the stone, and why she hadn’t been arrested yet.

“You’re being too modest, Loretta,” said Marge now. “The story of the Pink Lady did a lot more than inspire you, didn’t it? In fact I think it’s safe to say that you lived part of that story yourself.”

Loretta’s eyes were blazing, as she looked from Odelia to Marge, clearly wondering what they were playing at.

“I don’t understand,” said the young Sheikh. “Youlived part of the story?”

“Mrs. Poole is speaking figuratively,” said Loretta. “Writers live in their imagination, and my imagination is what inspired me, loosely based on an article I read about the Pink Lady.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” said Marge.

Loretta, who clearly wanted to be anywhere but there, plastered a polite smile on her face.“I’m sure I don’t knowwhat you mean, Marge.”

“And I think that you do.”

The Sheikh had followed the back and forth with marked interest, like a spectator at a tennis match.“What’s going on? Can anyone explain? You, Mrs. Kingsley?”

“What’s going on here is that the real story of the Pink Lady has been shrouded in mystery for far too long, Bab. And I think that the time has come to reveal the truth.”

“The truth? The truth about what, exactly?”