Page 19 of A Real Good Bad Thing

With my quarry parked outside a large white building, I grabbed a not-too-near spot, about to tail Eli inside, but he popped back out and I had to duck out of the way of the revolving door. He hadn’t been inside long enough to do anything but grab a few dollars at the ATM. No chance he’d dropped off any hefty sums of cash or checked on goods in a safe deposit box.

I walked purposefully to the gurgling fountain outside the bank as if that had been my intent all along. To sell it, I tossed in a few coins, making a wish that this job would pay off.

Eli crossed the street, then headed up a set of steps to a chichi restaurant called Tristan’s with a terrace one story up from the road. A sign saidOpen for Brunch at Ten, but Eli rapped on the door, and a tall man answered it, letting him in.

What was Eli doing there so early?It was only nine-thirty. I stayed by the fountain for a bit, looking like I was checking my phone while I watched the place. No sign of Eli coming out. Hardly anyone going in either. But then, hold the hell on.

At a few minutes before ten, I peered more closely. I did a double take. No way. There was no way that was her walking up the steps and into the restaurant.

The woman I planned to meet later today.

I hustled across the street to get a better view. She walked from inside the restaurant out to the terrace, joining…Eli.

What the hell? Why would Ariel be dining with him?

I had no answer and clearly no time to linger.

* * *

Irritated, but curious as all hell, I wove through the financial district, running through scenarios for Ariel and Eli, but none felt right. Finally, I reached Wayboard Street where small storefronts had signs likeDuty-Free,Wholesale, andUncut.

I had to shove Ariel out of my mind and focus on my mission.Intel.

I tried the first diamond shop I came to. Posing as a curious customer, I said I was looking for a blue-tinted stone. The shop was busy, and the proprietor told me he hadn’t seen anything like that and sent me on my way.

The next guy pitched me a twenty percent discount on a fair-trade diamond if I bought it before I left.

This was a crapshoot. But investigations were like that sometimes. I tried a few more shops till I reached the end of the block and went into a place called Uncut. Behind the counter, a man with a thick beard and an eager grin spoke to another customer in rapid-fire Spanish, finishing the transaction quickly. When that customer thanked him and left, he strode up to me, shifting to English. “Greetings and welcome to Uncut, where we specialize in the best duty-free diamonds on the island.” His slight Cuban accent told me he was from the nearby island and his style said he was probably an excellent salesman, since he sounded like a TV commercial. “Are you looking for something for that special someone?”

“Potentially.”

“Ah, excellent. Someone you want to sayI doto?”

I laughed and shook my head, sticking with the truth. “I don’t see that happening anytime in the near future. But my sister is graduating from college soon, so I thought I might get her a little something?”

He walked behind the counter, unlocked a glass case, and gestured to several diamonds that could be set into jewelry. “Surely, a lovely pair of simple diamond earrings would be a wonderful gift for your sister as she embarks on her first job after college. They sayclassy and elegant, and what employer wouldn’t want that?”

“Mmm. I like those—but these ones here are nice too.” I made a show of taking in the sea of sparkling gems that shimmered like brilliant reflections. “Business is good these days?” I asked casually. “I keep hearing all about diamonds.”

The man nodded vigorously and gestured to the door. More customers were streaming in. “Better than ever.”

“Sweet. Any chance you’d have one of those diamonds with a sort of bluish tint to it?”

The man shook his head. “One of my colleagues at International Diamonds has some from time to time. A few months ago, he handled a small batch of them for a new customer who brought them in. He might even have one or two left over.”

“Excellent,” I said, reining in a grin and extending a hand to shake. “I appreciate that. And I’ll be back to pick something up for my sister soon. What’s your name?”

“Montez.”

“Nice to meet you, Montez.”

With a friendly nod, he headed over to his new customers, and I took off.

* * *

The conversation had sparked a memory. The files that Andrew had sent over included a recovered email, and once I was away from the shop window, I pulled up the deleted thread. The messages referenced an amount and discussed safe transport of “luxury goods.” But there was no mention of paintings or art.

The art idea had been Andrew’s guess based on Eli’s affinity for it and the fiancée’s business venture. But how many five-thousand-dollar paintings did you have to move to equal ten million dollars? A fuck ton, that was how many. And paintings, which required safe transport, took up a helluva lot more space on a plane than gems did.

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