Free The Chocolate Jewel Case: A Chocoholic Mystery by JoAnna Carl

mid-thirties!”
    Joe stopped talking and looked around absentmindedly. “Actually, Grandma inherited the diamond from her m7other,” he said. “My grandfather didn’t have a lot of money in 1935, so they had this diamond she already ownedreset as an engagement ring. My grandmother always wore it when I was a kid. I wanted Lee to have it, so we had it reset again.”
    Mr. Gold scooted back into his wicker rocker. He nodded complacently. “I don’t have a loupe, but it looks like a Tolkowsky cut. You should write down its provenance. These stories are so easily lost.”
    My gin and tonic arrived then, so I was able to quiz Alex Gold abouthis connection with the antique trade.
    “I own a jewelry shop in Chicago,” he said. “Gold chains and engagement rings pay the rent. But I have an interest in antique jewelry.”
    Garnet spoke. “Uncle Alex is one of the world’s leading experts on Art Deco jewelry.”
    Alex looked modest. “I’m to Art Deco jewelry what your aunt is to costume jewelry. I’ve researched it extensively, and I do appraisals.”

    “Then you’ve kept up your grandmother’s interest in precious stones.”
    “Our grandmother was somewhat interested in their beauty, true, but to her their importance lay mainly in their value.” He smiled. “Her admirers were expected to cough up major stones. I’m more interested in design and workmanship. Your diamond wouldn’t have impressed Grandmother Opal, because it’s not particularly large—halfa carat, I’d say—but I like it better than a larger stone that might not have such a lovely cut.”
    Garnet interceded then, like a good hostess, asking me about our wedding and making other attempts at small talk. Her uncle sat with us, ignoring the boat discussion between Joe and Dick Garrett. In a few minutes, however, Garnet called Joe and Dick over and the conversation became general. Alexdidn’t grab my hand again, and his open admiration of my diamond—I also thought it was lovely—had made him seem less creepy.
    After an hour of chitchat, Dick braved the heat to go outside and charcoal steaks. Garnet brought baked potatoes and salad from the kitchen, and we moved to the dining table. The sun had gone down by the time we finished off with locally grown strawberries topped with sugarand cream, and Garnet passed the TenHuis chocolates as she served coffee. I had a Dutch Caramel Bonbon (“creamy, European-style soft caramel wrapped in dark chocolate”). By the time we’d all accepted a final cup of coffee it was dark. The evening had turned out to be very pleasant.
    Like many of the summer cottages along Lake Michigan, Double Diamond had no shades or curtains on its windows. Thedining room’s wall was made up entirely of windows—double-hung windows, with wainscoting below. A set of French doors was at one end. Beyond the windows was a section of the cottage’s broad porch and, beyond that, trees and the lake. After dark, the porch, trees, and lake disappeared, as if the lights on a stage had been turned off, and the wall of windows became a wall of mirrors. I happened tobe seated facing the windows.
    So I was the one who saw the face.
    At first the face was just a blob, sort of like a balloon tied to a chair outside the window. It moved, and I thought I was seeing a reflection of one of the people inside the house.
    I counted heads. There was Dick Garrett at the end of the table. I wasn’t seeing his reflection. He’d be in profile, not facing the window. Besides,Dick was telling some story and was gesturing wildly, and I could see him in the window clearly. No, it wasn’t Dick.
    It wasn’t Joe. Joe was facing me, so his back was to the windows. It wasn’t Garnet. The face outside was topped by what appeared to be dark hair, not strawberry blond.
    That meant it had to be Alex. But no, Alex had white hair. He was sipping his coffee and giving his full attentionto his niece’s husband. I located his reflection in the wall of windows. It