by Robin Caroll
“Again, the police are just starting their investigation, so it wouldn’t be prudent to guess.” Dimitri spoke slowly, his tone devoid of any emotion. “I’m sure the police will let you know as soon as they’re able.”
“How could this have happened? We were told storing the crown in your vault would keep it safe while we were here.” Edmond’s voice lifted an octave.
“We will know more as the police investigation gains traction and we are given information.” Dimitri’s voice might have remained even, but he tensed on the couch alongside Addy.
She pressed her leg against Dimitri’s, hoping it would give him a measure of comfort as he had provided to her so many times before. “I understand how upset you must be, both of you. But I assure you that our local police detectives are very good at their jobs.” Beau was the best, and she didn’t think she was just being biased. Everyone who knew him sang his praises. He’d just been promoted to a higher-grade detective in the last year. The New Orleans police didn’t promote those who were unworthy. “We will find out what happened and see justice served.”
Edmond’s frown pinned her to the couch. “But you can’t guarantee that, can you?”
“I’m pretty certain.” She demanded her voice not waver under his judgment.
“What about Katerina’s tiara? Will that be recovered? That’s irreplaceable.”
Her mouth went drier than dry. “The hotel carries very good insurance, Mr. Jansen. We will be sure to file a claim on your behalf and work with whatever authorities that protocol demands.”
“No amount of money can replace this particular tiara. Most of the current pieces worn today by members of the Princely House of Liechtenstein have been acquired by family marriages and hail from Austria, Bavaria, and Russia.”
Katerina sniffled against him, then straightened. “Do you know the story about Tsar Nicholas Romanov, the Romanov dynasty, and the missing Russian crown jewels?”
Addy let out a slow breath, trying to remember what she’d read. “A little. Something about certain pieces having been claimed to be in the collection of the crown jewels but never fully documented. They supposedly went missing along with the Romanov daughter Anastasia.”
Katerina gave a little smile. “That is the basic story most in the States have heard, but that is not the full story. The tales of the missing child Anastasia gained more interest than that of the missing crown jewels.”
She sat ramrod straight in the chair and continued. “At a library here in the United States, a director perusing the rare books collection found a very large book with no title or identification information on the spine or cover. It was, in essence, an album. Upon further inspection, the researchers at the library found the title page hand drawn with an elaborate design and noted Moscow, 1922. The title was in Russian, and when they had it translated, it read The Russian Diamond Fund. This is the name that has been given to the imperial regalia for the Romanov family. The book contains eighty-eight photographs of the Romanov jewelry with descriptive captions, all in Russian.”
Dimitri visibly relaxed. “The Romanov family were the rulers of Russia for more than three hundred years, yes?”
Katerina nodded. “Yes. Nicholas abdicated in 1917, and his entire family—except for his daughter Anastasia, or so it is believed—was executed in 1918. Even after the family’s remains were tested in the late 1980s, there is a daughter missing.” She inched forward to the edge of her chair. “The crown jewels are rumored to have been sewn into the hems and such of Nicholas’s daughters’ clothes. That is not proven or disproven, but it is a fact that in that 1922 book found in the library, there are photographs of what are known to be the Russian crown jewels, like the Orlov Diamond in the scepter and the grand crown, which has the huge stone at the top.”
The princess’s accent became thicker as she spoke faster. “The crowned jewels were worn by the Romanov royal family until they were seized during the Russian Revolution, after the Romanov family was executed. The jewels were said to be secured in secret until 1922, when they were unpacked and a full inventory was taken. The Russian Diamond Fund dates to the same year, and the photographs appear to have been part of the initial inventory.”
Edmond lost his attitude and picked up the story. “The Orlov Diamond is a 189-carat stone that is rumored to have been stolen from the eye of a statue of a Hindu deity in southern India. It is but one of the priceless pieces in the collection of the Diamond Fund.”
Addy nodded, not entirely sure there was a connection to be made.
Katerina smiled at her fiancé. “Yes, many wondered the fate of the collection of jewels. Much of the collection was preserved by curators at the Kremlin in Moscow, and in 1925, the official photographs and documentation of the collection was published with the title Russia’s Treasure of Diamonds and Precious Stones.”
Addy wrinkled her brow. “But you just said they found the album dated 1922 with photos of the crowned jewels, which included these pieces.”
Katerina’s smile widened. “Yes. There are many in Russia who believe the 1922 book and its contents are not correct, but there is no denying that those photographs match, at least mostly, the photograph and details published in the official published collection in 1925.”
“But there is a noted difference that has baffled many.” Edmond stretched the full length of his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles as he remained perched on the arm of the chair. “There are four pieces in the photograph in the 1922 album and also in the picture in the 1925 book, but those four specific pieces aren’t actually documented in the 1925 book.”
Katerina nodded. “A sapphire brooch, an emerald necklace, a sapphire and diamond bracelet, and a diadem. We know that the sapphire brooch in the 1922 book was sold at auction in London in 1927, as there are records even though it was not listed in the 1925 book, but the necklace, bracelet, and diadem have never been officially recorded, and the Kremlin refuses to acknowledge that there were ever such pieces in the Diamond Fund.”
That made no sense. Addy raised a brow. “But they are pictured with the rest of the crown jewels in the photograph in both the 1922 album and the 1925 book?”
The princess nodded. “Yes, but officials claim they do not really exist. Or if they do, they are not part of the Diamond Fund. They are not recognized as being part of the Russian crowned jewels.”
Addy couldn’t imagine a country denying the existence of such assets. “If those four pieces are in the photograph of the 1922 album, and later one of those nonexistent pieces is sold at auction and documentation proves as such, then wouldn’t it stand to reason that the other three pieces must also exist and belong to the collection?”
Edmond nodded. “Exactly.”
Fascinating story, truly, but Adelaide couldn’t understand why they were telling her and Dimitri this right now, with two dead guards and a robbed safe.
“The diadem in the photographs of both the 1922 album and the 1925 book reflects a sapphire and briolette diamond kokoshnik-style tiara.” Edmond sobered as he spoke. “Kokoshnik basically means a traditional Russian headdress worn by women that was made popular when the Romanov court ladies began wearing them in the nineteenth century. The original large kokoshnik headdresses, in the hands of the Romanovs, became smaller and more crescent shaped, looking more like halos. The Romanovs embellished the kokoshniks with jewels and sometimes with veils.”
Edmond sighed. “The diadem photographed contained nine large sapphires and was covered in diamonds, including several drop diamonds.”
Addy’s heart beat so hard she could feel her pulse pounding in her eardrums. At the same time, waves of nausea crashed in the pit of her stomach.
Katerina’s eyes filled with moisture again. “Identical to my tiara, which is listed as having been purchased from a Russian family in the early 1920s.”
5
Beau
“Well, Walt, what can you tell me?” Beau stood next to the older coroner as the other two men wit
h the coroner’s logo emblazoned on the backs of their jackets zipped black bags around the two fallen guards.
The CSU team closed their field cases, the snapping and latching echoing off the walls inside the vault.
“Cause of death to both was gunshot. My best guess without having them on my table is that they were shot with a .38 caliber.” Walt pulled off the plastic gloves from his hands and shoved them into the pockets of his jacket. “Probably shot from about three or four feet away. From the entrance wounds and where the bodies were found, I’d say they were inside the vault when the shooter came from behind them. The hotel guard was shot first—once in the back that hit his heart. The other guard turned and was shot twice in the chest.”
Beau glanced at Marcel. “Why would they be inside the vault?”
Walt shrugged. “Not my job to figure that out. I’ll do the autopsies tomorrow and get you my report as soon as I’m done.”
“Thanks, Walt. I appreciate it.”
“Yep.” The coroner shrugged past Beau and Marcel.
“Maybe there was a click when the electronic lock disengaged and they stepped inside to check it out?” Marcel stared at the vault door.
“Maybe.” Beau glanced at the outline on the floor of the bodies. “A .38 gunshot isn’t exactly quiet, yet no one reported hearing the shots.”
“Thinking a suppressor?”
Beau shrugged. “Something to muffle the sound.”
Marcel stood over the outlines. “Okay, so let’s play it out. The vault’s electronic door disengages and clicks, which gets their attention.”
“But why open the vault and enter?” Beau stared at the chairs set outside the vault’s door. “If they’re sitting there and they hear the door’s lock disengage, why get up and come inside? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe it’s policy if the lock opens they have to check it out?” Marcel suggested.
“I’ll ask Addy.” Beau made a note in his notebook. “Okay, so for whatever reason, they came inside.” He moved to stand in the out- line of where Leon’s body had been. “The hotel guard gets taken out with one shot to the back.”
Marcel stepped into the outline of where the Liechtenstein guard had been. “He’s beside the hotel guard and hears the gunshots and sees the man fall.” He pivoted toward the door. “He turns and takes two in the chest.”
“We recovered two .38 bullets.” Nolan returned to the vault. “We’ll start running prelim tests and should have some info for you tomorrow. We’re done with everything and are about to head out now, unless there’s something else?”
“Not that I can see. Thanks, Nolan.” Beau turned back to Marcel. “We can safely assume that the hack and the robbery are connected.”
“And that these guys were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I doubt either was a target.”
Beau shook his head at his partner. “We can’t assume that. This might have been a deliberate hit all along, meticulously planned around the hack as a distraction, and the other guard was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“You think that?” Marcel asked.
“Not really, but we can’t just assume that’s the case without investigating it.” Beau turned away. Marcel should know this, and on some level he probably did. But lately, his partner had been quick to jump the gun on the way to investigate instead of letting the facts of the case lead where the investigation went. Beau didn’t know what was going on with his partner, but he needed to figure it out so the younger man’s career didn’t take a shift downward.
“That would be a little over the top, don’t you think?”
Beau shrugged and went back outside the vault, then walked back to where the body outlines lay. “Ten steps.”
Marcel waited, studying Beau. “What’s your scenario?”
“Maybe whoever shot them waited until the vault was unlocked, then pulled a gun on them and had them open the vault door.”
“I thought cyber-crimes confirmed that the hack unlocked the vault and the safe.”
“Maybe the shooter was smart and didn’t want his prints on the door, which would indicate that he knew about police procedures and didn’t want to take a chance on being identified. It would make sense why they were inside the vault instead of outside the door where they were posted.”
Marcel nodded. “Yeah, I guess it does.”
Beau made a note in his notebook. It was his experience that even in the most horrendous of crimes, logic played a role. It also played a very large part in solving the crime.
He glanced around the vault a final time before flipping the page in his notebook and scanning his notes. He didn’t want to overlook anything. They had very little to go on at the moment, and he hoped the CSU team would have something useful for them.
He stepped into the hall and removed his shoe coverings.
“What next?” Marcel removed his shoe covers as well.
“When you spoke to Claude Pampalon, he said he didn’t have anything of his in the safe?”
Marcel nodded. “That’s right.”
Beau shook his head. “If he had, I’d bet it wouldn’t be worth half of what the princess of Liechtenstein’s crown is worth.”
“A real princess.” Marcel shook his head. “Who brings a real princess in for a Mardi Gras parade? According to Pampalon senior, the princess always wanted to come to the States to visit, and this was a great opportunity.” He snorted.
Beau loved the carnival season as much as the next native New Orleanian, but to bring in real royalty for the krewe was pushing it. “We know that the main reason he did was to line his own pocket. Inviting the princess and having her happy made her fiancé happy, who I’m sure let his father know how accommodating his business associate was.”
“Oh, you got that right.” Marcel sighed.
Beau stuffed his notebook back into his pocket. “And now there’s the murders and robbery. We’ll need to call the captain and let him know immediately before we have an international incident on top of everything else.”
“I’ll make the call if you’d like.”
“No, I’ll do it. The captain won’t be thrilled about the after-hours call, or the situation.” He grabbed the sign-in log that the NOPD had put in place from the chair outside the vault and scanned the scrawled writing. No one unauthorized had entered the vault after they’d arrived. “Why don’t you holler at Zach and see if we can chat for a few minutes before I talk with Addy? I’ll fill the captain in.” He pulled out his cell phone and made the call.
As Beau had predicted, the captain wasn’t happy about the situation. Or the call. But he gave Beau the green light to follow the investigation tonight and make the call to the embassy in the morning.
“Zach said he’ll meet us in the lobby.” Marcel slipped his cell back into his jacket pocket.
Beau nodded and led the way out of the hotel’s labyrinth of hallways, past the front desk, and into the front of the hotel. A quick scan of the area didn’t reveal anything out of the ordinary. The hotel seemed busy, but it usually did. Especially during Mardi Gras season.
The Darkwater Inn stood in the heart of the French Quarter, right in the middle of the hub of the city that breathed a life all of its own. Mardi Gras brought out the best, and worst, of New Orleans, who knew how to keep her secrets. Knew how to turn out the parades and festivals and how to adore her many krewes. New Orleans was unlike any other city in the United States, everyone who’d ever been there and experienced what she offered firsthand knew that.
“Detective Savoie.” Zach Monet, a lead detective in the cyber- crimes unit, reached out his hand.
Beau shook it. “What’s the latest?”
The dark-haired young man led them toward a small sitting area of four chairs, away from the crowding of the front desk. He was maybe twenty-two or twenty-three but already a lead detective in the cyber-crimes division. Technology experts were coming younger and younger these days. Made Beau feel like an old man at thirty-four.
“Most hackers have certain strings of codes that they use for identification. Kind of like a signature, but a way of showing off. This one doesn’t have any identifiers like that. That’s unusual in itself, but there’s more.”
Beau leaned against the back of his high-back chair, jotting notes in his notebook.
“Stranger is the hack code itself. It’s the most basic I’ve ever seen in a hack job of this magnitude.”
“What does that mean?” Marcel asked.
“The way he accessed the system was basically juvenile-level hacking.”
Beau stopped writing and stared at the young man. “You might need to explain it like you are explaining it to a juvenile.”
Zach smiled. “I didn’t want to insult.”
“Neither Marcel nor I speak technology, so please, don’t worry about insulting us.”
Zach nodded. “Yes, sir. The hack is essentially no more than opening a back door into the system. It’s like the back kitchen door was left unlatched so someone could sneak into the house and steal everything of value.”
Beau looked up from his notebook. He must have misunderstood. “Are you telling me that this was an inside job?”
“Well, I can’t say that just yet, but every indication we’ve seen tells us that whoever set this in motion had physical access to the system and knew which system the security programs ran on. As complex and updated as the computer system is here, it would be a hard press to hack it without access. That’s all I’m saying.”
Beau nodded as he wrote. “They had to have physical access to the system?” That would definitely mean an inside job. The Darkwater had a state-of-the-art security system, Beau had learned last year.
“For this level of entry, it would be nearly impossible not to have physical access to the system to create the back door. Right now, Hazel has shut down the access and is running a backward trace to pinpoint where the remote access linked from.”
“I’m assuming your team is questioning everyone who had access?” Marcel asked.
Zach nodded. “Oh, yeah. Raphael has his list to run backgrounds on everyone who had access. He’ll run those first thing in the morn- ing. He’s finishing up interviewing the security personnel here tonight, then will interview the other three tomorrow. I’m about to go speak to all management personnel who are still here.” He pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “I believe that’s Mr. Pampalon senior and junior, Ms. Fountaine, and Ms. Bastien, unless Mr. Pampalon senior has already left, which we were told he might.”