by Stuart Woods
“And what happened to the necklace?”
“I think it’s very likely that it is resting in my hand,” Paul said, holding up the choker.
“And how did it come to be here?”
“Goering’s house on the Obersalzberg was overrun by American troops, who sacked the place very thoroughly, drinking Goering’s wines and grabbing souvenirs. I think it’s likely that one of the soldiers came across the necklace and put it in his pocket. Certainly, it was never cataloged by the army. After I saw the movie The Woman in Gold, I did some research, and I could find no report anywhere that it ever surfaced. Spoils of war, I guess you’d say.”
“Then who legally owns it?”
“Adele Bloch-Bauer died of natural causes in 1925. Her husband, Ferdinand, was her only heir. He’s dead, and they had no children, and it passed to his brother-in-law, Adler. The last legal transaction regarding the necklace occurred when Adler gave it to his daughter as a wedding gift. It was taken from her by the Gestapo. She died a few years ago, in her nineties, without issue, I believe. Perhaps, in the normal course of events, it would have passed to a descendant of some distant relative. Some of her family were lost in the Holocaust, I believe, so it could be very complicated.”
“What is the significance of the date, 1899, engraved in the necklace?”
“Ferdinand had the necklace made as a wedding gift for his wife, Adele. They were married in 1899.”
The two men sat quietly for a long moment.
“This Fiske, mentioned in the receipt from Blume, is he Carrie Fiske’s father?” Paul asked.
“Grandfather.”
“Bijoux Blume was still operating in Paris in 1946. I think the last member of the family died in the late fifties or early sixties, and the business closed or was sold, perhaps to a competitor.”
“Would, perhaps, whoever bought Blume still have the business records?”
“Certainly records of the Blume designs might exist. A competitor buying the business would recognize the value of keeping the drawings and records of their sales. It’s all provenance, which can be key to establishing value.”
“Would their designs have been photographed, as a matter of course?”
“Perhaps, particularly if the Blumes were very proud of a piece and wanted to be able to establish their connection with it. It seems likely that they would feel that way. It is—no matter who wore it or painted it or stole it—a remarkable piece of work, probably unique.”
“Suppose this proved to be the original. What value would you place on it?”
“Priceless,” Paul replied. “When Mrs. Adler sold The Woman in Gold and the other paintings, Ronald Lauder paid her a hundred and thirty-five million for them, and that was years ago. The necklace might not bring that kind of money, but in some ways, for some people, it might be an even bigger trophy, especially after the movie. There are a lot of billionaires in the world.”
“Paul,” Stone said, “how would you like to spend a few days in Paris, on me?”
Paul smiled. “I think I could stand that, if I can take my wife.”
“You buy her ticket. I’ll put you up in a suite in the Paris Arrington,” Stone said. “Get your people organized for the work in the three houses, then go to Paris as soon as you’re ready. Joan will arrange the hotel and your transportation.”
Paul put the necklace back into its velvet pouch and dropped it into Stone’s hand. “Take good care of it,” he said.
“Oh, I will. And Paul, not a word of this to anyone, not even your wife.”
Paul held a finger to his lips, then left.
35
Paul Eckstein went straight home and found his wife getting out of the shower. He embraced and kissed her, unmindful of her wetness.
“What was that all about?” she asked when she could take a breath. “It’s been a long time since you came home at noon for a quickie.”
“This isn’t about a quickie,” Paul replied, kissing her again. “How would you feel about a week in the best hotel in Paris?”
“Can we afford it?”
“We can, for two reasons. One, I have just been handed the biggest, most lucrative estate job of my life, and two, the job includes investigating a piece of jewelry in Paris.”
“What piece of jewelry?”
“Wait right here.”
“May I put some clothes on?”
“You may, if you’re not interested in a quickie.” He went into his study, to the shelves where he kept a large library of art books, and came back with one on Klimt. She was still naked when he got back to the bathroom. He set the book down on the toilet seat and leafed through it to The Woman in Gold. “That piece,” he said, pointing to the choker.
“No kidding?”
“No kidding, and remember, I didn’t say a word about it. My lips are still sealed.”
“What about your pointing finger?”
“That is not sealed, and it has many talents.” He demonstrated one of them.
“Your finger is very talented indeed,” she breathed in his ear. “Now, are we going to have our quickie in the bathtub, or shall we adjourn to the bedroom?”
They adjourned.
When they parted, breathless and perspiring, Paul said, “The beautiful thing about this assignment is that I know exactly whom to see in Paris, and it will take less than an hour to do that. The rest of the week is ours.”
“I like the sound of that,” she replied. “Who will you have to see?”
“A gentleman of my acquaintance who is the great-grandson of the man who designed the unmentionable piece. He is probably the last man on earth with this information in his brain.”
“And who is he?”
“His name is Randol Cohn-Blume. His great-grandfather was the chief designer of Bijoux Blume, a highly respected Paris jeweler of the first half of the twentieth century. He was also the nephew of the owner. His specialty was the design and crafting of impossibly expensive jewelry for impossibly wealthy clients, and I believe him to be the designer of the unmentionable diamond-and-ruby choker.”
“You couldn’t just phone him?”
“Tell me, would phoning him require an all-expense-paid trip to Paris for you and me?”
“No, it would not.”
“The very reason I am not already phoning him. I am advised that making phone calls from Paris to Paris is possible in this modern day and age.”
“A very sensible conclusion,” she replied. “When do we depart?”
“Let’s see. I have to assemble three teams of catalogers and appraisers and get them to work on three very high-end residences. And after that, we can depart for Paris. Say, three days?”
“Three days it is,” his wife said, getting up.
“Where are you going?” he asked. “I’m ready for another quickie.”
“Nonsense. You haven’t been ready that fast since you were nineteen. I have to start packing.” She got out of bed, found a stepladder, and began hauling pieces of luggage from the top shelves of her dressing room. “Will we be dining out at the best restaurants in Paris every evening?” she called.
“Quite possibly,” he called back.
“Oh, good, then I can take a good dress for every evening.”
He got out of bed and watched his naked wife pulling things from the racks of her dressing room, assessing them and putting them back. Finally she found one acceptable and folded it carefully into her suitcase.
“I love watching you pack,” he said, “especially while you’re naked.” He kissed her on the back of her neck.
“Now, Paul,” she said, applying a firm hand to his chest. “Let’s not start something we can’t finish.”
“It’s worth a try,” he said, guiding her hand downward.
“My word,” she said, “you’re up again.”
“I c
ertainly am,” he replied, towing her toward the bed.
“What on earth brought this on?” she asked.
“The thought of several dozen flawless diamonds and rubies,” he replied, rolling on top of her.
“I should have known it wasn’t me,” she said, wrapping her legs around him. “Never mind, I can make do.”
36
Stone and Gala met Dino and Viv for dinner at Patroon, and Bob, who had become accustomed to being treated like dog royalty by the staff, lay under the table, wrestling with a large bone.
“What are you so up about?” Dino asked.
“Isn’t he often up?” Gala queried.
“Not like this, not before his first bourbon.”
“Well, disposing of Carrie Fiske’s estate has turned into not the drag I had expected it to be.”
“Not the drag? What does that mean?”
“The opposite of a drag—interesting, even enjoyable.”
“Did you discover a pot of gold under her rainbow?”
Stone and Gala exchanged a sly glance.
“Something better than a pot of gold?”
“Have you ever heard of The Woman in Gold?”
“The Klimt or the movie?” Dino asked.
“Either or both.”
“I’ve seen the painting at the Neue Galerie,” Dino said.
Viv piped up. “I took him by the wrist and elbow and marched him there.”
“I was very happy to go,” Dino said, “and we saw the movie on TV last night.”
“Do you recall the necklace the woman was wearing in the painting?”
“How could I not?” Dino asked. “I wondered whatever happened to it.”
“I’ll enlighten you,” Stone said. “It’s in my safe.”
“You are under arrest!” Dino said. “You could not have come by that legally.”
“I found it in Carrie’s jewelry safe in her New York apartment.”
“The real thing?”
“It would appear to be, but that is being researched as we speak.”
“Researched how?”
“I have an appraiser leaving for Paris shortly, to search for the original design drawings and, maybe, a photograph and other documentary evidence.”
“Search where?”
“Among the jewelry stores of the Rue St.-Honoré, one of which may have purchased the original makers, called Bijoux Blume, which discontinued trading in the fifties or sixties.”
“I want to know every detail of how it came to be in New York,” Viv said.
“As far as I can tell, it was last seen adorning the neck of Frau Hermann Goering, late in World War Two. It gets very dramatic after that. Hermann burned down his country place to keep the Russians from sullying it and may have taken his wife’s jewelry to their house in the Bavarian Alps, which soon after was sacked by an outfit of American soldiers.”
“Band of Brothers,” Dino said. “There was a scene about that in the great miniseries.”
“I believe you are right, or it may have been Hitler’s house.”
“Of course I’m right, I’ve seen the thing twice.”
“Did you happen to notice which soldier ended up with the diamond choker?”
“That must have happened when I wasn’t looking.”
“Apparently, whatever happened to the choker also happened when nobody was looking.”
“What makes you think you’ve got the real thing?” Viv asked.
“The maker’s name and the date 1899 were engraved or stamped inside. That was the year the woman received the piece as a wedding present from her husband.”
“What a husband!” Viv enthused.
“Suppose it’s just a copy?” Dino said.
“My appraiser says it’s still worth a couple of million. I think there are more than a hundred flawless diamonds and a few dozen rubies in it.”
“And what’s it worth if it’s real?”
“Apparently, the sky’s the limit.”
“Who gets the proceeds?”
“The estate, of course, and my fee is based on the value of the estate.”
“Apart from this bauble, what do you think it’s worth?”
“Let me put it this way. I’ve already been offered a hundred million for the three houses and their contents, and I think that’s a lowball offer. And, of course, there’s a large stock portfolio.”
“How did you come to have Ms. Fiske as a client?” Viv asked.
“She came to see me because she was afraid of her ex-husband.”
“We’re looking for that guy now,” Dino said.
“She was also anxious to get him out of her will. I went out to her East Hampton place that weekend and drew a new will, and she executed it a few days later.”
“Are you mentioned in the will?” Viv asked.
“Yes, I am. I get Bob.”
“Lucky you.”
“Did I mention that you can’t speak a word about the necklace to anybody, and I mean anybody?”
Everybody looked at the ceiling. “Oh, yeah, sure, got it, not a word,” they murmured in chorus.
37
Stone and Gala got home fairly late, and as they walked into the master suite, the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Good evening, Mr. Barrington.”
“Well, if it isn’t what’s his name.”
“That’s unkind.”
“I meant it to be. What do you want this time?”
“It was unfriendly of you to bar me from my former home. I still have my key.”
“Your key now opens exactly nothing. All the locks in all three residences have been changed.”
“Now, why would you do that? I desire only to collect a few of my things.”
“I’ve had a good look around the apartment, and there isn’t so much as a necktie that’s yours. Carrie had it swept of your belongings and shipped them all to you.”
“She neglected to ship an objet I gave her as a wedding present.”
“Do you not understand the word ‘present,’ as in gift? When you have made someone a present, it no longer belongs to you.”
“It does if she doesn’t want it. Carrie told me she would return the gift, but she didn’t.”
“Perhaps because of her untimely death,” Stone pointed out.
“I tell you again, I had nothing to do with her death.”
“Don’t tell me, tell the police. I’m sure they’ll apologize for all the bother and send you on your way with a pat on the back.”
“She said she would return it to me.”
“When was this?”
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“May I remind you that she made a new will after that date that is a full and well-expressed listing of her intentions toward you and there is zero reference in it of returning anything.”
“It would be much simpler for everyone if you would just return the necklace to me.”
“What kind of necklace?”
“A choker of diamonds and rubies.”
“And what is the provenance of this necklace?”
“It was left to me by my grandfather.”
“Then, of course, you can prove that by sending me a copy of his probated will.”
“I’m afraid I can’t lay my hands on it, just at the moment.”
“I rather thought not. And how did your grandfather acquire the necklace?”
“He obtained it while traveling in Europe many years ago.”
“How many years ago?”
“Around 1945.”
“I seem to recall that Europe was gripped by a widespread unpleasantness in that year. Tell me, what did your grandfather do in the war?”
“He was a sergeant in the 506th Parachute Regiment of the 101st Airbo
rne Division.”
“And where in Europe, exactly, did he obtain the necklace?”
“In southern Germany.”
“Under what circumstances?”
“It was among a number of items confiscated from a private residence.”
“I wonder if I can guess whose residence. Let me see, was he a large figure in the Nazi party? Am I warm?”
“You obviously know whom I am talking about.”
“Obviously. Now, back to provenance. How did Herr Goering acquire the necklace?”
“My grandfather was unable to ask him, as he had already fled the premises.”
“Well, let me fill you in. Goering got it from the Gestapo, who stole it, along with other belongings of certain families.”
“I have heard that opinion expressed.”
“Well, your grandfather should have been charged with, first, grand theft, and then with receiving stolen goods.”
“Be that as it may . . .”
“So you are asking the return of stolen property that you had given to someone else?”
“That is an uncharitable view.”
“Well, speaking as an attorney, I can tell you that you have no legal basis whatever for any claim on the necklace.”
“It seems such a small thing to ask.”
“How small? What value do you put on the necklace?”
“I concede that it is valuable.”
“How valuable. Go on, tell me.”
“I had it appraised once and was told it might bring a million dollars at auction.”
“And who told you that?”
“An auction house.”
“Which auction house?”
“It doesn’t matter. Perhaps I should tell you that the necklace is a copy of the one you are thinking of.”
“Is that why you whipped up that little piece of forgery about Carrie’s grandfather having the necklace made in 1946?”