Double Take
Page 27
She was trying to pull free of him, panting now. “What’s wrong, Dix? What’s going on with you? You’re frightening me!”
Maybe she was frightened, he wasn’t sure. He realized almost any woman would be frantic to get away from a man who’d dragged her into a garage without any people around. He saw questions in her eyes—not Christie’s eyes, hers—and something else. Excitement? He didn’t release her. He looked down into her face and said very precisely, “Tell me where you got that bracelet.”
Charlotte Pallack blinked. She was clearly surprised. “Bracelet? What—oh, this.” She shook back the sleeve and rolled her hand back and forth, making the individual diamond circles sparkle and dance. “Why ever do you want to know about this bracelet?”
“Where did you get it, Charlotte?”
“Oh, all right. My husband gave it to me as a wedding present. He said he got it in Paris. Why, for God’s sake? Why do you care?”
In that instant Dix the husband became Dix the cop. He smiled at her, released her wrist, stepped back from her, and managed, somehow, to smile. “Sorry about this, Charlotte.” He looked down a moment, felt his breathing hitch. He tried to shrug it off, but couldn’t quite do it. “Your bracelet—my wife Christie had a bracelet a lot like yours, and it shook me to my feet. She loved that bracelet, always wore it. Seeing it on your wrist—well—”
Her hand was on his forearm and the bracelet winked and glittered. “Oh, Dix, I’m so sorry. I had no idea at all. Well, that’s a coincidence, isn’t it? Maybe Christie and I are more alike than just our looks. What do you think?”
He said honestly, looking at her again, “I don’t know you, Charlotte. I have no idea how alike you and Christie are.”
“Dix? Are you okay now? Look, do you want to examine the bracelet?”
It was exactly what he wanted. He had to be careful not to grab it from her. “Yes, please, that would be very kind of you.”
He watched her gracefully unfasten the bracelet, watched the glittering pile of diamonds slide through her fingers as she dropped it into his hand.
He knew exactly where to look. He was so afraid of what he’d find his hands were shaking.
He slowly turned the bracelet until he was looking at the underside of the clasp. He knew what should be there: At Least Forever. And right below that Pietro Magni’s individualized mark, a “p” intertwined with an “m.”
He held the bracelet up, examined it closely.
The underside of the clasp was blank. He could see no sign that anything had been scored off. So close, it was so close, so much like Christie’s bracelet it made him want to scream because what he’d believed a precious instant ago simply wasn’t true. Another chimera, a gossamer veil that hid nothing at all.
In the end this woman wasn’t Christie and this diamond bracelet wasn’t Christie’s either. He hated coincidence, really didn’t much believe in it, and now he’d slammed into two that had nearly torn his heart out.
He handed her the bracelet, and she fastened it on her wrist with the ease of long practice.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte, it is very similar, but I see now that it’s different. Please forgive me for alarming you.”
He gave her his most natural smile, a smile that often made Ruth pause a moment, grab him, and pull him down to her. Ruth had told him to patent that smile.
Not good. He took a step back.
Charlotte reached out and touched his forearm. “I’m so sorry I even wore it, Dix. The last thing I want to do is to cause you pain. This must be very hard for you.” She paused a moment, cocked her head to the side, just like Christie did, and said slowly, her eyes on his face, “This is why you’re here in San Francisco, isn’t it? Someone who knew your wife told you about me and you came to see if I was Christie. We look that much alike?”
He looked down into that beautiful face and had to force himself to think clearly: This woman isn’t Christie. The bracelet she’s wearing isn’t Christie’s bracelet. Let it go. Go home. Forget all of it. But she was very smart. She’d figured her way through everything quickly.
“Partly, yes. Someone saw you, believed you were Christie.”
“I see. My husband wondered why Corman Sherlock had called him at the last minute when he knew there was little chance the judge would ever have a change of heart about politics.” She paused. “Do you know Thomas was pleased as punch that you kept staring at me all evening? He really liked it that a sexy young gun seemed envious of him. So, you are the reason for the dinner last night, Dix? So you could see me?”
Maybe she was frightened, he wasn’t sure. He realized almost any woman would be frantic to get away from a man who’d dragged her into a garage without any people around. He saw questions in her eyes—not Christie’s eyes, hers—and something else. Excitement? He didn’t release her. He looked down into her face and said very precisely, “Tell me where you got that bracelet.”
Charlotte Pallack blinked. She was clearly surprised. “Bracelet? What—oh, this.” She shook back the sleeve and rolled her hand back and forth, making the individual diamond circles sparkle and dance. “Why ever do you want to know about this bracelet?”
“Where did you get it, Charlotte?”
“Oh, all right. My husband gave it to me as a wedding present. He said he got it in Paris. Why, for God’s sake? Why do you care?”
In that instant Dix the husband became Dix the cop. He smiled at her, released her wrist, stepped back from her, and managed, somehow, to smile. “Sorry about this, Charlotte.” He looked down a moment, felt his breathing hitch. He tried to shrug it off, but couldn’t quite do it. “Your bracelet—my wife Christie had a bracelet a lot like yours, and it shook me to my feet. She loved that bracelet, always wore it. Seeing it on your wrist—well—”
Her hand was on his forearm and the bracelet winked and glittered. “Oh, Dix, I’m so sorry. I had no idea at all. Well, that’s a coincidence, isn’t it? Maybe Christie and I are more alike than just our looks. What do you think?”
He said honestly, looking at her again, “I don’t know you, Charlotte. I have no idea how alike you and Christie are.”
“Dix? Are you okay now? Look, do you want to examine the bracelet?”
It was exactly what he wanted. He had to be careful not to grab it from her. “Yes, please, that would be very kind of you.”
He watched her gracefully unfasten the bracelet, watched the glittering pile of diamonds slide through her fingers as she dropped it into his hand.
He knew exactly where to look. He was so afraid of what he’d find his hands were shaking.
He slowly turned the bracelet until he was looking at the underside of the clasp. He knew what should be there: At Least Forever. And right below that Pietro Magni’s individualized mark, a “p” intertwined with an “m.”
He held the bracelet up, examined it closely.
The underside of the clasp was blank. He could see no sign that anything had been scored off. So close, it was so close, so much like Christie’s bracelet it made him want to scream because what he’d believed a precious instant ago simply wasn’t true. Another chimera, a gossamer veil that hid nothing at all.
In the end this woman wasn’t Christie and this diamond bracelet wasn’t Christie’s either. He hated coincidence, really didn’t much believe in it, and now he’d slammed into two that had nearly torn his heart out.
He handed her the bracelet, and she fastened it on her wrist with the ease of long practice.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte, it is very similar, but I see now that it’s different. Please forgive me for alarming you.”
He gave her his most natural smile, a smile that often made Ruth pause a moment, grab him, and pull him down to her. Ruth had told him to patent that smile.
Not good. He took a step back.
Charlotte reached out and touched his forearm. “I’m so sorry I even wore it, Dix. The last thing I want to do is to cause you pain. This must be very hard for you.” She paused a moment, cocked her head to the side, just like Christie did, and said slowly, her eyes on his face, “This is why you’re here in San Francisco, isn’t it? Someone who knew your wife told you about me and you came to see if I was Christie. We look that much alike?”
He looked down into that beautiful face and had to force himself to think clearly: This woman isn’t Christie. The bracelet she’s wearing isn’t Christie’s bracelet. Let it go. Go home. Forget all of it. But she was very smart. She’d figured her way through everything quickly.
“Partly, yes. Someone saw you, believed you were Christie.”
“I see. My husband wondered why Corman Sherlock had called him at the last minute when he knew there was little chance the judge would ever have a change of heart about politics.” She paused. “Do you know Thomas was pleased as punch that you kept staring at me all evening? He really liked it that a sexy young gun seemed envious of him. So, you are the reason for the dinner last night, Dix? So you could see me?”
