Free The Diva Wore Diamonds by Mark Schweizer Page A

ago, but decided that she’d rather like to be a Konig. Fine with me.
    “ I expect you six are plenty for anyone,” I said.
    “ Can I see your sword?” asked Moosey.
    “ Nope. I’m the tax-collector. I’ll be expecting some coins from each of you.”
    “ Mrs. Konig said our coins were for the shops,” said Christopher. “And I already gave one to the leper.”
    “ Right,” I replied. “But I’m the Roman tax-collector. And the tax man always gets his share.”
    “ Not if you can’t find us,” said Moosey. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and gave me a crooked grin. Then he and the two boys took off like a shot and disappeared into the crowd.

    •••

    I spent most of the two hours walking around the bazaar, giving glaring looks to children who’d already gotten the word and who screamed whenever I showed up. Not exactly according to scripture, but precisely what I wanted to do every time I signed my tax return in April. I noticed Moosey and the rest of the tribe of Issachar, including the girls, over at Beaver Jergenson’s armorer’s tent for most of the afternoon.
    There were two skits taking place on the first day, the first scheduled at five o’clock and the second just before closing at six— The Conversion of St. Paul and Peter’s Dream. At the scheduled time, the shofar sounded and all the kids ran over to the drama area and plopped down on the grass. I missed the first play, deciding instead to rendezvous with a certain tent-mother who kept giving me come-hither glances and was looking far too tempting in her coral-red Moroccan djellaba.
    “ Forbidden love,” she whispered, with a seductive smile. “And with a Roman centurion. How naughty.”
    “ Aren’t you afraid of reprisals from your people?” I asked, moving closer.
    “ No. Just from my husband.”
    “ Hmm.”
    “ Close the tent flaps, my brave centurion,” she giggled.
    Hence, I missed the first play, but I couldn’t miss the second one, having been assigned a dramatic role due to the fact that I was the only one with the correct costume. After St. Peter, ably portrayed by Benny Dawkins, had described his vision in which a voice commands him to eat a variety of impure animals with the admonition “Do not call anything impure that God has made clean,” I walked up, was converted and subsequently baptized. My part was easy. I had to answer “Yes” to Peter’s question, “Do you accept Jesus Christ as the Son of God and will you be baptized?” then kneel down and be sprinkled. This rankled the Baptists to no end, but, as Kimberly Walnut pointed out to them, it was just a skit and besides, we didn’t have a river handy.
    After the second skit, the kids hied back to their tents for clean-up, costume turn-in, and refreshments. Other than the donkey having some digestive problems, the afternoon went without incident, and a good time was had by all.

Chapter 7

    The front-end loader and two backhoes made short work of what remained of the Bear and Brew. They’d worked for a few hours on Monday afternoon, knocking everything down, and by Tuesday, when I arrived in town, they were filling two large dump-trucks with rubble. The trucks would have to make a few trips, but I figured that by noon, all that would remain of the restaurant was a flat slab of cement.
    I walked over and watched for a while, then walked back across the park and stuck my head into the police station.
    “ Anything going on?” I asked.
    “ All quiet,” said Dave. He was behind the desk reading the Tattler . “Have you seen this morning’s paper?”
    I shook my head, and he held up the front page for me to see. The headline read “Missing Diamond Mine Discovered In St. Germaine.”
    I sighed. “I’m going to get some breakfast.”
    “ Hang on,” he said. “I’ll come with you.” He folded the paper and dropped it on the desk. “I already talked to a reporter from Raleigh. They’re picking up the story. The news should be all over the