Breck coaxed him: “What happened?”

“Hell. I picked up the stones in Amsterdam. I counted them in the broker’s presence. They weren’t anything special. Half-karat, one-karat, some chips. Three or four bigger stones but nothing spectacular. You know. Neighborhood jewelry store stuff. The amount of hijacking and armed robbery lately, they don’t like to load up a courier with too much value on a single trip.”

“How much were the stones worth altogether?”

“Not much. Four hundred thousand, give or take.”

“To some people that’s a lot.”

The old man said, “It’s an unattainable dream to me right now but hell, there was a time I used to carry five million at a crack. You know how much five million in really good diamonds weighs? You could get it in your hip pocket.”

“Go on.”

“Amsterdam, okay, the last trip. We wrapped them and packed them in the case — it’s the same armored steel attaché case, the one I’ve carried for fifteen years. I’ve still got it for all the good it does. The inside’s divided into small compartments lined with felt, so things don’t rattle around in there. I had it made to my own design fifteen years ago. Cost me twelve hundred dollars.”

“Amsterdam,” Breck said gently.

“Okay, okay. We locked the case — three witnesses in the room — and we handcuffed it to my wrist and I took the noon flight over the Pole to Los Angeles. Slept part of the way. Went through Customs, showed them the stones, did all the formalities. Everything routine, everything up-and-up. Met Vicky at LAX for dinner, took the night flight to Honolulu. In the morning I delivered the shipment to Cushman. Unlocked the handcuffs, unlocked the attaché case, took the packets out and put them on his desk. He unwrapped one or two of them, looked at the stones, counted the rest of the packets, said everything was fine, said thank you very much, never looked me in the eye, signed the receipt.”

“And then?”

“Nothing. I went. Next thing I know the cops are banging on my door at the hotel. Seems Cushman swore out a warrant. He said he’d taken a closer look at the stones that morning and they were no good. He claimed I’d substituted paste stones. He said the whole shipment was fakes. Said I’d stolen four hundred thousand dollars’ worth of diamonds. The cops put an inquiry through Interpol and they got depositions and affidavits and God knows what-all from the brokers in Amsterdam, attesting the stones they’d give me were genuine.”

Breck said, “Let me ask you a straight question then.”

“No, God help me, I did not steal the damn stones.”

“That’s not the question.”

“Then what is?”

“How come you’re not in jail?”

“They couldn’t prove it. It was my word against Cushman’s. I said I’d delivered the proper goods. He said I delivered fakes. He had the fakes to show for it, but he couldn’t prove they hadn’t been substituted by himself or somebody working for him.”

“Did they investigate Cushman and his employees?”

“Sure. I don’t think they did an enthusiastic job of it. They figured they already knew who the culprit was, so why waste energy? They went through the motions. They didn’t find anything. Cushman stuck to his story. Far as I can tell, none of his employees had access to the stones during the period of time between when I delivered them and when Cushman showed the paste fakes to the cops. So I figure it must have been Cushman.”

“Did the insurance pay off?”

“They had to. They couldn’t prove he’d defrauded them. Their investigator offered me a hundred thousand dollars and no questions asked if I’d turn in the stones I stole. I told him he had five seconds to get out the door before I punched him in the nose. I was an amateur light heavyweight just out of high school, you know. Nineteen thirty-one. I can handle myself.”

Right now, Breck thought, he didn’t look as if he could hold his own against a five-year-old in a playpen. But what he said was, “What else do you know about Cushman?”

“Snob. I don’t know where he hails from but he affects that clenched-teeth North Shore of Long Island society drawl. Mingles with the million-dollar Waikiki condominium set. I guess they’re his best customers for baubles.”

“What’d they do to you?”

“Revoked my bond. I can’t work without it. I tried to sue for defamation, this and that, but you know how these lawyers are. The case is still pending. Could be years before it’s settled. The other side knows how old I am — they know all they have to do is wait a few years.”

Breck said, “Maybe I’ll have a talk with this Cushman.”

“What’s the point?”

“Maybe I can persuade him to give you back what he owes you. Don’t get your hopes up. He’s never going to admit he framed you — he’d go to jail himself if he did that. The best you can hope for is to get enough money out of him to pay off your debts and set you up in that retirement you talked about. The condo, the boat, the bridge game. That much I may be able to persuade him he owes you.”

“Aagh.”

The shop was a pricey-looking storefront at 11858 Kalakaua Avenue; the sign beside the door was discreetly engraved on a small brass plaque: CUSHMAN INTERNATIONAL DIAMOND CO.

Inside, every inch a gent in nautical whites, Breck stood looking down at several enormous diamond rings spread across a velvet background.

“My fifth wedding anniversary. I want to give my wife the most beautiful present I can find. You were recommended — they told me they were sure you’d have what I’m looking for.”

The man across the counter was bald and amiable. He looked fit, as if he worked out regularly. He wore a dark suit and he’d had a manicure. “Thank you, sir. You’re very kind.”

“Are you Henry Cushman?”

“That’s correct. May I ask who recommended me?”

“A couple of people at a party for the governor. Let me have a look at that one, will you? The emerald cut.”

Cushman picked up the third ring. Breck gave him the benediction of his best smile. “Mind if I borrow your loupe?”

Clearly a trifle surprised, Cushman offered him the small magnifying glass. Screwing it into his eye Breck examined the stone. “Very nice,” he opined.

Cushman said softly, “It’s flawless, sir. Excellent color. And there’s not another one like it.”

“How much?”

“Four hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

Breck examined the ring even more closely. Finally he said, “Make it four twenty.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be at liberty to go that low, sir.” The bald fellow was very smooth. “You see, diamonds at the moment —”

“Four thirty-five and that’s it.”

There was a considered pause before Cushman murmured, “I think I could accept that.”

“I thought you could.” Breck smiled again. And then, a bit amused by his own air of tremendous confidence, he went around to the proprietor’s desk and took a checkbook and a gold pen from his pockets and began to write out a check. “I want it gift-wrapped — and I’ll need it delivered to my suite at the Kahala Towers no later than seven o’clock tonight.”

He beamed when he stood up and handed over the check, accompanied by a driver’s license and a gold credit card; Cushman scribbled lengthy numbers across the top of the check and Breck didn’t give the jeweler a chance to get a word in edgewise. “Of course my wife’ll have to approve it, you understand. I don’t want to spend this sort of money on a gift she doesn’t really like. You know how women can be. But I don’t really think it’ll be a problem. She’s a connoisseur of good stones.” Then he was gone — right out the door.

He went two blocks to the beach and shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned at the ocean.

Henry Cushman stood momentarily immobilized before he came to his senses and reached for the telephone. The bank’s telephone number was on the check in his hand but he didn’t trust anything about that check and he looked up the bank in the directory. The telephone number was the same. He dialed it.