Dying for a Diamond

by Cindy Sample

  I decided to forego detecting for anything except discounts.

  Once the catamaran docked, the passengers sped down the gangplank and scattered in all directions, trying to make the most of their remaining time on the island. We sauntered past the pastel-colored stores and thatched-roof open-air restaurants comprising the Grand Turk Cruise Center. Strains of lively reggae music combined with laughter from happy tourists filled the air.

  We bumped into Gran and Mabel outside Sam’s Shoppe. I asked where they were headed next and Gran replied, “We’re off to Duchess Diamonds.”

  “I didn’t know you were interested in buying jewelry,” I said.

  “I’m always looking for bargains, kiddo. Mabel and I went to the Port Shopping meeting this morning. We got the scoop on who has the best deals here.” She squinted as she looked up at Tom. “You should join us. Doesn’t my granddaughter deserve a diamond ring?”

  Tom blinked, but his investigative training kicked in, and he maintained a stoic façade as he replied. “My wife prefers chocolate to diamonds. Right, Laurel?”

  “Yeah, sure she does.” Mabel said. She swatted Gran on her thin arm, almost knocking my grandmother into a palm tree. “Let’s check out those chocolate diamonds Alisa mentioned in her sales spiel.”

  “Chocolate diamonds?” Bradford looked confused. “Do you wear them or eat them?”

  Mother clasped her spouse’s hand. “Let’s find out.” She winked at me from behind his back.

  “Shall we go with them?” I asked Tom.

  He frowned. “I’m kind of grimy from snorkeling, so I want to get cleaned up. Go ahead and I’ll see you in the stateroom.”

  We exchanged kisses and I joined my family. Even if we couldn’t afford to purchase diamonds, I could ogle them and try on some selections just for fun. While Tom’s and my combined finances were sufficient to pay for our wedding and our honeymoon, with hefty college tuition expenses looming next year, it would be a long time before any diamond purchases were included in our budget.

  I twirled my gold wedding band around my finger. The tiny diamond chips that ringed the band were perfectly sufficient for me. It wasn’t the size of the diamond on your hand, but the measure of the man who put the ring on your finger.

  And my husband measured up quite nicely. In all respects.

  Once I entered Duchess Diamonds, I stood transfixed. Not being an expert on gems, I couldn’t tell if the fiery sparkles were due to the outstanding quality of the stones or the best lighting diamond sales could buy. But the result was spectacular. Diamonds surrounded me on all sides, not to mention colorful stones ranging from fiery Australian opals to purplish tanzanite, lime green peridot to pale blue aquamarines. All shapes, sizes and price tags.

  Cruise ship passengers swarmed the counters leaving me little room to maneuver. Lucille, the woman Mother and I met on the catamaran, and a man I assumed was her husband were checking out some watches. Danielle and Jacques, her husband’s supposed therapist, were engaged in conversation with a salesman.

  I spied my cousin standing in front of a dazzling display of gems. Next to her were two white-haired women, one of whom was trying on a diamond ring that looked large and bright enough to allow the ship to navigate at night.

  We’d barely had an opportunity to chat on this cruise so I sidled up to her. “Cruise directors turn up in the most unlikely places,” I said.

  ”You should read my job description,” Sierra replied. “It’s three pages long. Are you enjoying the trip so far?”

  “Except for wondering whether I hallucinated a body going overboard, it’s been great.”

  The more portly of the two elderly women shoved a ring adorned with an enormous light brown stone in Sierra’s face. “What about this one? It’s only $24,000. Do you think that’s a good buy?”

  “Yikes,” I said, loud enough for most of the patrons to hear.

  Sierra jabbed me with her elbow. If her intent was to silence me, it wasn’t successful because I followed my previous cry with a very loud “Ouch.”

  “Are you all right?” asked the woman sporting the five-digit diamond.

  I rubbed my elbow. “Yes, thanks. What a lovely ring. Is that one of those chocolate diamonds?”

  She nodded. “If I buy three or more pieces they’ll discount them twenty percent.” She pointed to a glittering necklace and matching earrings sitting on the counter. “I’ll save thousands,” she crowed.

  “A wonderful deal, Mrs. Peabody,” Sierra replied. She mumbled under her breath, “Nothing like spending thousands to save thousands.”

  I snickered. Sierra must be used to this type of shopping behavior. Even I had to admit there was nothing I liked better than a “buy two get one free” deal, but in my case it was usually for chocolate bars, not chocolate diamonds.

  “I’ll take the set,” announced Mrs. Peabody to the anxious sales clerk who’d been hovering inches from his wealthy customer. “But I’ll need the ring resized to a seven. How long will that take?”

  “About an hour, Madame. Possibly more.”

  “Oh, dear.” She looked at her watch, which looked similar to mine. Except mine was a Target knockoff of the Cartier original. “I have a massage scheduled at the spa in forty-five minutes.” She looked so forlorn, one would have thought she’d just lost her favorite pet.

  “I can pick it up and deliver it for you,” Sierra offered.

  “Are you sure?” The older woman’s lips might be questioning Sierra’s generous offer, but her eyes said thank you.

  “It would be my pleasure,” my cousin said. “Go enjoy your spa activities. I’ll drop the package off in your stateroom. You’ll be able to wear your lovely new purchases to dinner tonight.”

  Mrs. Peabody paid for her purchases with a platinum AMEX card. How nice to whip out one piece of plastic to purchase $50,000 worth of jewelry. I’d have to take out a second mortgage on the house to make that kind of purchase.

  Not that I was planning on it. Maybe when Tom and I celebrated our diamond anniversary, he’d give me a diamond solitaire. Although considering that sixty years from now we’d both be centenarians, I’d be better off with a diamond-studded walker.

  Mother and Bradford interrupted my glittery reverie. “Look what my wonderful husband purchased for me.” She held out her arm so I could admire the opal bracelet accessorizing her slender wrist.

  “Beautiful,” I said. “And the blue matches my eyes. Maybe your favorite daughter can borrow it sometime.”

  She chuckled. “We’ll see. Now let’s go find your grandmother and get back on the ship.”

  I swiveled my head left and right in search of my petite grandmother and her plus-sized friend. I recognized several passengers from the ship but no sign of Gran in the cluster of tourists. A cry from a sales clerk at the other end of the store pierced through the customer chatter.

  “Stop. Thief,” he yelled as he ran around the display counter.

  All eyes, including mine, turned to see the culprits who were attempting to flee the store with their stolen goods.

  Gran and Mabel?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The pudgy black-haired salesman yanked on the tail of Gran’s plaid shirt, stopping her in her tracks. The momentum caused her to fly backward and land flat on her back, her skinny legs flailing in the air. Fortunately her fall was broken by the young man who’d tried to stop her. If not for his soft cushioning, who knows how many bones my osteoporotic granny could have broken?

  Mother, Bradford and I rushed to Gran’s side. We gently lifted her off “Ramon,” as his name tag read and propped her against one of the jewelry counters. Ramon staggered to his feet and pointed at Gran.

  “I’m calling the police,” he declared as two other white-shirted employees joined him. All three glared at Gran. She lurched to her feet and gave them the stink-eye to end all stink-eyes.

  “Keep your shirts on,” she said, tucking her own shirt into her waistband. “Now what the heck are you talking about? I didn�
��t steal anything.”

  Bradford’s six-foot-five frame loomed over the employee trio. “You can get into a pile of trouble slandering someone like that. Not to mention assaulting this poor old woman.”

  Gran slumped against me, giving an excellent portrayal of an elderly woman unjustly accused of theft. Her wig listed off to the side. As I pulled it back over her ear, she winked at me.

  My stepfather continued on in full-detective mode. “Now what proof do you have of this so-called theft?’

  “These women,” Ramon pointed at Gran and then at Mabel who hovered over my shoulder, “removed a ring from the counter while I was waiting on another customer.”

  “And you saw them do so?” grilled Bradford, who looked to be in his element. Once a cop, always a cop.

  Ramon flipped his palms out. “Well, it disappeared after they looked at it, so they must have done it.”

  By now, Sierra had joined our little group. “C’mon, Ramon. Are you sure you didn’t just put it back in the wrong slot? I can personally vouch for these women.” She pointed to the clock on the wall. “And we need to get back on the boat, pronto.”

  Ramon started to protest, but the manager drew him aside. They spoke rapidly, and when they finished, Ramon looked chastened.

  “We apologize for any harm we may have caused to you, Madame,” the manager said to Gran. “But hopefully you can understand the concern of my employee when he discovered the ring was missing.”

  “No harm, no foul.” Gran patted Ramon’s hand. “You were just doing your job. But we need to mosey on. We got a boat to catch.”

  We said our goodbyes to the staff amid their fervent apologies. Sierra needed to wait while Mrs. Peabody’s ring was being sized, so we thanked her for her intervention and headed to the ship.

  “How do you manage to get into these situations?” Mother asked Gran.

  “We were minding our own business,” Mabel said defensively. “I don’t know why he picked on us. We’re just two innocent old ladies.”

  “Yeah,” said Gran, “but there were some shifty looking characters in there.” She pointed to a couple about twenty feet ahead of us.

  “What’s shifty about them?” I asked. From the back they looked like any normal couple, returning from an island shopping spree, loaded with bags.

  “He has beady eyes,” she mumbled. “And she kept smiling at me. Likely trying to throw me off my game while she stole that ring when the salesman wasn’t looking. We need to keep them on our radar.”

  I rolled my own eyes, which hopefully did not qualify as beady in Gran’s book, or she’d be keeping me on her radar.

  And once I returned to the ship, I planned to be off everyone’s radar.

  Except Tom’s.

  After a lengthy wait trying to board the ship, along with two thousand cruisers who all postponed boarding until the last minute, my family finally reached the loading area. We slid our purchases through the ship’s X-ray machine then joined the other passengers waiting for the three elevators to arrive.

  Fifteen minutes later, I entered my stateroom prepared for a little afternoon delight with my husband, whom I found snoring soundly into his pillow. I decided to check in with the kids via email. With the internet priced at seventy-five cents a minute, our email exchange was short and sweet. All was well at home. I could take a worry-free nap alongside my hubby.

  After a well-rested afternoon, we were both ready for a big night out. As Tom finished dressing, I sat on the hard-as-a-rock sofa in our stateroom and read from the daily cruise itinerary.

  “They offer country line dancing, name that tune at the piano bar, blues in the blues bar, and the Island Magic show. Oh, they also offer a digital workshop in case you want to bone up on your iPad skills.”

  It was all I could do to keep a straight face when I mentioned that last activity. But Tom managed to one-up me when he replied, “I’ve always wanted to attend a couples’ computer class.”

  He burst out laughing at the shocked look on my face. “Or not,” he said. “Let’s grab some dinner and then explore. The night is young and so are we.”

  Have I mentioned how much I love my husband?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Tom and I ran into Stan and Zac outside the main dining room. The maître d’ seated the four of us at a partially filled table for ten. I was pleased to reconnect with folks we’d met the first night. Rick and Claire, who was once again decked out in expensive jewelry, was seated next to the plumpish Deborah, who was minus her Mr. Clean hubby tonight. Deborah’s female companion resembled an older, taller and stouter Marilyn Monroe, down to the platinum curls, bright red lipstick and mole above her lip.

  Deborah introduced us to her college friend, Sharon, and explained her husband, Darren, was gambling in the casino. “You know how men are,” she said. “I was happy to run into Sharon this afternoon.”

  This must be what Deborah meant by being patient with your spouse. I hoped when Tom and I celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary, he wouldn’t dump me for a blackjack table.

  The maître d’ walked past with a couple following behind him. The woman stopped and asked if they could dine with us.

  “Of course,” I said, delighted to see Lucille Blodgett again. “We’d love to have you join us.”

  Lucille introduced herself and her husband Glenn to the rest of the table. “We hail from Atlanta. How about the rest of y’all?”

  We did the round of introductions again. When Lucille learned Zac was the stage director for some of the shows, she turned to him. “I always wondered how y’all produce a show on a moving stage. Is it hard?”

  “Not yet,” Zac replied. “But this is only my first week on board, and so far the weather has cooperated. A couple of staffing issues but that’s show biz. Did you see the opening night production?”

  “Lovely show,” said Claire.

  “Did you have any favorite acts?” Zac asked her.

  “All the singers were fantastic.” Claire turned to her husband. “Don’t you agree, honey?”

  “Of course, although I’m afraid we celebrated with a little too much champagne that evening,” Rick said, his fingers lightly stroking his wife’s shoulders.

  Claire colored. “I don’t usually drink more than a glass of wine, so that champagne knocked me out. I hate to admit it, but I was so hung over I slept until noon the next day.”

  “You’re not the only one who overindulged.” Stan pointed at me. “Laurel thought she saw a body go overboard.”

  “I didn’t overindulge,” I protested. “Much. But I am positive I saw someone, or a large something, go overboard. Lucille heard something splash into the ocean about the same time.”

  Lucille nodded. “We’re one deck below Laurel and her husband.”

  “Did you report it?” Glenn asked me.

  “Tom and I met with the chief security officer twice, but he claims no one has reported anyone missing.”

  “The case of the missing,” Stan made air quotes with his fingers, “missing person.”

  “Omigosh. This is too exciting,” Lucille said. “It reminds me of an Agatha Christie novel. So what’s your next step? Do you need any help investigatin’? I’ve wanted to play detective since I read my first Nancy Drew book.”

  “Thank you for your offer, but no,” Tom answered for me. “The investigation is in the chief security officer’s capable hands.” Tom reached for my hand and squeezed it. “We’re going to enjoy our honeymoon and not get distracted, right, sweetheart?”

  “Of course, sweetheart.” I smiled at him.

  Stan shook his head. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  Tom sent him a dirty look, but I remained silent. After working together for five years, Stan knew me better than my new spouse.

  Rick shifted the conversation back to the evening’s performances. “Are you involved with the Island Magic steel band production, Zac?”

  “No, thank goodness,” Zac replied. “So I finally have a few hours to
spend with Stan. The last few days and nights have been filled with technical issues and all sorts of minutia.”

  “Don’t forget cast members’ romances,” Stan added.

  “Now this sounds like some interesting gossip.” Sharon leaned in. “Can you give us the scoop?” With her heavy makeup and elaborate hairstyle, I wondered if Sharon currently worked in the entertainment industry.

  Zac frowned at Stan. “Nothing that can’t be resolved. And nothing that should interrupt the production. As long as the performers show up,” he complained.

  The waiter arrived with our drinks, and conversation moved on to other pressing concerns, such as what activities we’d each chosen for the following day when we visited St. Thomas.

  “Lucille and I want to explore Blackbeard’s Castle.” Glenn stroked his own graying beard.

  “Glenn wants to tour the castle,” Lucille contradicted her husband. “I want to visit the jewelry shops.”

  “St. Thomas is supposed to be wall-to-wall jewelry stores,” Claire said. “Your head will be spinning. I’m anxious to check them out myself.”

  “I’ve been working way too hard lately, so I promised my wife something special to celebrate our anniversary,” Rick said. She patted his cheek with her left hand then turned to me. “Are you two hitting the shops, too?”

  “We’re taking an around-the-island tour,” Tom answered.

  I blinked my mascaraed eyes in surprise. “We are?”

  “It’s a surprise. Just you and me. Alone, except for the driver. No members of your family.” He shot a look at Stan. “Or friends. For a change, we can pretend it’s just the two of us on our honeymoon.”

  Hmmm. I squeezed his hand, but Tom’s comment gave me pause. While initially I hadn’t been thrilled to discover my family on board the ship, I hadn’t really minded it too much. We’re a close-knit bunch, and, despite an occasional tiff, enjoy spending time together. But considering how little time Tom and I normally can spend with one another, I realized he might be frustrated that our one and only honeymoon was continually interrupted by my family members. I would definitely make sure to keep my relatives at bay for the rest of our cruise.