Half a million dollars ...

Pearl was at her desk, staring at him. She knew he’d been talking to Renz.

Quinn looked back at her. Said, “We gotta find that cat.”

May 8, 3:32 p.m.

The cat, the bracelet, Alexis Hoffermuth.

Only one of them could talk.

Quinn and Pearl returned to the palatial penthouse where, with Alexis Hoffermuth, they discussed again the day of the theft.

“I only glimpsed the man,” Alexis Hoffermuth said. “And it all happened so fast, I’m not sure I could identify the woman.”

“You have some sense of their respective sizes?” Quinn asked.

“Average. Both of them.”

“Hair or eye color?”

“The woman had blond hair streaked with dark. Blue eyes. The man’s hair was dark. I think very dark. I seem to recall that he had blue eyes, too.”

“Any distinguishing marks? Tattoos, scars, moles . . .”

“Not that I noticed.” Alexis Hoffermuth shook her head in frustration. “It all went down so fast.”

“Went down?”

“You know—happened. Like on TV cop shows.”

“Ah.” Quinn shifted position in his chair. Leather creaked. “What about another vehicle? What were they driving?”

“If the perps had a car, it was parked out of sight. And to tell you the truth . . .”

“What?”

“It all went down so fast, I’m not even sure if the man was with the woman. At the time I thought she was this ditsy tourist or something who thought the limo might be for hire. I didn’t expect jewel thieves.”

“Or thief, singular.”

“No, wait! On second thought, I’m certain the man was with her. They hurried from the scene together.”

“What about the cat?”

“I saw no cat.” She arched an eyebrow. “Police Commissioner Renz told me a couple called to report that their cat had run away. I thought that odd. Isn’t that what cats do? Run away?”

“My cats always do,” Pearl said. She was seated on the sofa, facing Quinn and taking notes. They were both taking notes, making a bit of a show of it.

“Boomerang,” Quinn said. “That’s what they call this cat, because he roams but he always comes back.”

“A tomcat,” Alexis Hoffermuth said. “Just like the male human species.”

Amen, Pearl thought.

“There’s something else interesting about Boomerang,” Quinn said. “He’s wearing a jeweled collar that might be a bracelet. And he belongs to a professional jewel thief.”

“The man and the woman?”

“Just the man is a pro, as far as we know.”

Alexis Hoffermuth shook her head again. “Men get women to do things . . .”

Quinn nodded. “Keeps us busy.”

May 8, 8:12 p.m.

Otto Berger and Arthur Shoulders, sitting across a table from their boss Willard Ord, listened to Willard sum up what he’d told them: They were in Ord’s garden-level apartment in the Village. The rest of the brick building, upstairs, was vacant except for storage and also owned by Ord.

“So it could be the fake bracelets,” Ord said. “The nonsense with the cat, all or most of it, was to help mislead and convince the insurance company the real bracelet was stolen. It looks like an insurance scam to me, with Alexis Hoffermuth using the Clairmont brother and Craig’s wife. Hoffermuth has probably already filed for a big settlement.”

“The cat didn’t have no bracelet around its neck when we snatched him,” Otto pointed out.

“I take your point,” Arthur said.

Willard stared at him, disgusted. “There is definitely the possibility that no bracelet was ever stolen, and Alexis Hoffermuth still has it.”

“Insurance fraud,” Otto said. “Makes a lotta sense.”

“We need to find out for sure,” Willard said.

“The easiest thing might be to make her talk,” Otto said.

Willard smiled. “Easier than chasing a cat.”

“More fun, too,” Arthur said.

May 9, 10:17 p.m.

“What on earth is the emergency?” Alexis Hoffermuth asked, when her private elevator door slid open and two huge men in cheap suits stepped out. She was wearing blue silk lounging pajamas and a matching top with decorative string ties and a low neckline. Her slippers were fur-lined and matched her outfit. “The doorman phoned up that I should admit you. That it was important.”

“Melman,” one of the men said. “He sent us up here.”

“Yes,” she said, puzzled. But she trusted Melman completely. “Why did he let you in? Are you acquaintances of his? Family?” She found both possibilities highly unlikely.

They said nothing. One of them smiled, displaying horrendous teeth. The other blatantly observed the unfastened top buttons on her pajama top.

Alexis didn’t like this at all. Tomorrow she’d have a serious talk with Melman.

Fearless as ever, she crossed her arms and stared unblinkingly at both men. If it was a fight they wanted, she didn’t mind stepping up out of her weight class. “Well?”

“You actually sleep in that outfit?” asked the slightly smaller man, with good teeth.

“That would be beside the point,” Alexis said.

She’d had enough of this. Her evening had been disturbed, and that made her grumpy. She stalked toward the nearby phone to call the doorman’s desk and set things straight with Melman.

Alexis was amazed that the two men had entered farther into her domain. They’d even moved apart somewhat as if to block her access to her elevator.

She held the receiver down near her waist and could hear the phone down in the lobby ringing.

Then it stopped ringing, but no one spoke.

Alexis pressed the receiver to her ear. “Melman? Melman?”

The man with the horrible teeth grinned and said, “Get her.”

Alexis actually advanced on the man, raising her hand to slap him.

But before she could bring the flat of her hand forward, he punched her hard in the stomach. She made a whooshing sound, then panicked and thrashed around when she couldn’t inhale. Her mind was functioning, but not well.

She began a harsh rasping that caught in her throat. The pristine white ceiling with its skylight was in front of her.

How did I get on the floor?

“When she catches her breath, she’s gonna wail like a train whistle,” one of the large men said.

“I’ll find something, Arthur,” said the man with the bad teeth.

He disappeared in the direction of her bedroom.

The one called Arthur began to undress her. He worked a few buttons on her pajama top, then lost patience and ripped the top apart, sending buttons flying. Alexis was now able to breathe in a labored way, but she still couldn’t muster enough strength or will to move of her own accord, enough air to scream. Someone—it must be me!—was whimpering.

Arthur had a wicked looking knife now, and was skillfully slicing material in order to undress her. Except for her pajama bottoms, which he simply yanked off.

Through her terror, Alexis felt a mounting rage. Who are these animals, that they think they can do this to me? I’ll be able to speak in a few minutes. Then I’ll tell them who I am, what’s going to happen to them, how very sorry they’ll be. Damn them! They’ll be so sorry!

Breathing was still a great effort, but she thought that with even more effort she could talk—could scream.

She attempted to scream but heard only a soft croaking sound.

“Here, Arthur,” said the man with the bad teeth. “She’s getting her sea legs. Better stuff this in her mouth before she yelps.”

“We’re not on a ship, Otto.”

“This is no time to be a grammarian,” Otto said, handing something to Arthur.

My favorite Burberry scarf! Oh, damn them! Alexis managed another moan. Louder.

“Better stuff,” Otto said.