Coop found himself dragged into the shop by the insistent reporter and the store owner’s daughter, followed by the camera crew. He wanted to get the hell out of here, but the woman, whose name he learned was Anna Burnett, had placed a tray of antique jewelry in front of him. Meanwhile, Carolina and her crew taped everything, leaving Coop with no choice but to go along with Anna’s plea that he choose an item for his trouble.
Coop scanned the tray, looking for something that appeared inexpensive and that he could take without guilt.
“How about this watch?” Anna raised the hammered gold men’s timepiece, angled not for Coop but toward the camera.
Coop shook his head. “I couldn’t. It looks too expensive and besides I don’t wear jewelry.”
“Then how about a necklace or a ring for your wife?” She lifted what appeared to be an emerald necklace, showing it off with a wide smile for the camera.
“Not married.” Anymore. He forced a smile.
“Something for your girlfriend then!”
Before she could reach for something else, Coop chose the ugliest, most gaudy ring in the bunch, hoping it was also the least expensive. “I’ll take this.”
“I’m so glad you’ve accepted a memento for preventing our beloved store from being robbed. The ring is beautiful and there are many more lovely items at the Vintage Jewelers, located at 47th Street and Park Avenue.” She swept the inside of the store with her hand, hamming it up as she took advantage of the free publicity.
Coop stifled a chuckle, if only because the damn cameras were still rolling. He waited for Carolina to yell, “Cut!”
Then Coop pocketed the ring, thanked Anna and Carolina, and got the hell out of the store before the intrepid reporter decided she wanted to interview him as well as humiliate him in front of the entire city.
A reporter by day and an aspiring novelist in his private time, even Coop couldn’t have scripted anything like today.
AS COOP WALKED into the newsroom, a round of applause greeted him, and his colleagues rose to their feet.
Coop frowned, waving away their whistles and comments, and headed for his desk. He lowered himself into his seat and leaned back, relaxing for the first time all day. He pulled the ring from his pocket and held the gaudy piece up to examine it more closely.
“You aren’t going to see much in this dingy lighting.” Amanda Nichols, the features editor at the paper, propped a hip on his desk. She leaned in for a better look at his ring and her long blonde hair fell in curls around her shoulders.
Coop liked Amanda. They’d had their moment, a brief fling after Coop’s divorce, but there’d been no serious spark for either one of them. Luckily, she was the rare woman who could separate sex from friendship and they’d been able to remain on good terms ever since.
“It’s ugly as sin, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Let me see.” Amanda held out her hand and he placed the ring in her palm.
Into glitz, glamour and shopping, she enjoyed material things. Clothing, jewelry, you name it—she knew its history.
She narrowed her gaze and peered inside the ring. “Ugly by today’s standards, but by vintage ones, this is a collector’s dream. It’s Trifari. Look at the insignia.” She drew his attention to the inside of the ring’s shank, pointing with her long, painted nails. “You picked yourself a winner,” she said, handing him back his reward.
“I didn’t want something valuable. I wanted something I wouldn’t feel guilty about taking,” he said in frustration.
Amanda shrugged. “From what I heard, you saved the store owner a fortune. Don’t feel bad. You can just give it to the special lady in your life.” She not-so-subtly raised her gaze to meet his.
Coop cocked his head to one side. “Is that your way of asking if I’m seeing anyone?”
She grinned. “Actually, yes, it is. You work too hard. You’re always pounding away at your computer.”
Because he often pulled up his other work when he wasn’t on deadline at the paper. Fiction writing was his real love, not that he shared that information with many people. Lately though, the creative juices had dried up, causing him many hours of staring at a blank screen, both here and at home.
“I’m not seeing anyone,” he said, hoping she’d leave it at that.
“I worry about you. A girlfriend would add some balance to your life.”
So much for her dropping the subject.
Coop rolled his eyes. “I have enough balance and there’s no need to worry. I’m fine. Now if we could stay on track?” He shot her a wry look and placed the ring on his desk. “Since it’s worth something, I guess I’ll store it in a safe place.”
“Okay, but you know what they say about all work and no play…”
“I play enough,” he lied.
“If you say so.” She pinned him with a look that told him she was onto him.
What could he say? Lately, there’d been no woman who’d captured his interest. But if he admitted as much to Amanda, she’d start setting him up with her friends, and he shuddered at the thought. Blind dates were bad enough. Well-meaning friends trying to matchmake were even worse. Coop had an ex-wife and a healthy respect for being more careful with the women he chose. He certainly wasn’t lacking for bed partners, if that was all he needed.
“I do. Now I need to get back to work.”
She shook her head and sighed. “Okay, then. Catch you later, hero.” She winked and strode away, her hips swaying as she walked.
Coop turned to his computer.
Bringing up a Google search on the word Trifari, he spent a considerable amount of time researching until he finally found a photo of what looked like the ring he now had in his possession. To his surprise, it was part of a set that included a bracelet and necklace. Back in the 1950s the jewels had belonged to a wealthy family in Manhattan until they’d been stolen in a brazen robbery during a dinner party at the family home. The culprits had never been caught and the jewels had reportedly never been recovered.
Coop glanced at the ring on his desk. What the hell did he have in his possession? Did the jewelry store even know the value of the ring? How many times had it been passed on since the robbery over fifty years ago?
His journalistic mind wondered about the history of the jewels and he knew he had some more digging to do. But his novelist’s mind began to spark with fictional spin-offs and possibilities. An unsolved crime dating back to the 1950s. A large dinner party, wealthy socialites, ongoing affairs between supposedly close friends and business associates, and a crime of passion. A murder and the theft of beloved family jewels.