“This fits really well with what I’ve been working on,” I said. I waited as he read what I had written about Max. He gave me some useful feedback about it-he was right, I needed to pull back a bit.

“I have too much sympathy for him, I guess,” I said, and told him some of the things Max had said to me off the record.

“Even if it hadn’t been off the record, you were smart to leave all that out, especially since we’ve no quotes from Mr. Yeager. Not that I doubt for a moment that he abused his first wife.” He paused, then added, “It’s not bad to feel sympathy. Reporters who pretend they are objective, above-it-all recorders of the truth are lying to both their readers and themselves, and that lie can be found everywhere in their stories. They often develop a kind of cynical disdain for everyone and everything they write about. Cynicism is just another way to lose objectivity.”

“But you can’t just be a sap, either,” I said glumly.

“No. It’s what degree of that sympathy ends up in the story that you need to watch, especially if you haven’t balanced it with the other side of the tale. If I hadn’t caught that, H.G. or John would have, but in time you’ll be able to catch it yourself, long before it ends up on the page.”

My phone rang. It was Lefebvre.

“Do you know where Bijoux is?”

“The jewelry store on Third Street?” I asked.

“Yes. Can you meet me there in twenty minutes?”

“Hang on.” I covered the phone and told O’Connor about the request.

“I take it he’s not buying you a ring?”

“Yes, for me to put through your nose, if they’ve got one that big.”

“Go,” he said, laughing. “Take advantage of Lefebvre’s cooperative mood while it lasts.”

“But deadline-”

“I’ll polish the story a bit, add what I have from Auburn, and turn it in- if that’s all right with you.”

I told Lefebvre I’d be right there. I thanked O’Connor, grabbed my camera, and took off.

I was closer to the store than Lefebvre was-the police department used to be headquartered nearer to the newspaper, but they had moved to a newer and bigger facility in the 1960s, generally regarded as one of the ugliest buildings in Las Piernas, and not just by those brought to it in the back of a squad car.

Lefebvre greeted me, then looked up at the store and said, “I’m told Mr. Belen is a diamond expert, and the most reliable jeweler in town.”

“I don’t know about that, but Bijoux has been around forever.”

“As if you would have any sense of forever,” he said. “Bijoux, eh?”

“It’s hard for most of the locals to say it,” I said. “I’ve actually heard it pronounced ‘buy jocks.’ You, however, make it sound exotic.”

“I was just thinking that it is a bit plain,” he said. “In French, the word means ‘jewelry.’”

“So are we here to get the Vanderveer diamonds cleaned?”

He smiled. “And I had thought to surprise you.”

“I couldn’t think of any other reason you would invite me to come to a jewelry store.”

“Why, to get a ring for O’Connor’s nose,” he said, holding the door open for me.

“Next time, I’m using the hold button,” I said, and entered the store.

“Speaking of putting things on hold,” he said, following me, “I need you to hang on to the information you hear today. Not run it in a story until I let you know that we can release it. Can you promise me that?”

I tested his resolve on this a bit and found that he wouldn’t budge, so I agreed, with conditions. “If you’ll promise me in return that you won’t wait just for the fun of it,” I said. “Oh-and if I can get this information any other way-”

“You can’t,” he said. “But yes, I agree to your conditions.”

Mr. Belen was an elderly man with a charming accent of his own-one I couldn’t quite place. He had some photographs in hand.

“Mr. Belen is Mrs. Linworth’s jeweler,” Lefebvre said. “Before she gave the necklace to her daughter, she asked Mr. Belen to clean the diamonds and repair any loose settings. Today he told me that he photographed his finished work.”

“Yes, I did,” Belen answered. He sighed. “I’m so sorry that the next time it was seen was under such terrible circumstances. I knew Miss Kathleen. A lovely girl.”

He showed us the photographs-two lovely double-strands of round diamonds. He laid out a black velvet cloth, and Lefebvre gently placed two small sections of the necklace that were still united and twenty-six loose diamonds onto it. At my look of puzzlement, Lefebvre said, “We found most of them under the bodies and in the crevices of the trunk.”

They were in a range of sizes, and Mr. Belen spoke to us as he quickly sorted them. “There should be one hundred and twenty of them,” he said.

“We collected forty-one.”

Mr. Belen raised a brow.

Lefebvre said, “I won’t tell you that our evidence control is always perfect, but with something this valuable, and in a case like this, we are extremely careful. These diamonds were collected under the highest security possible.”

“Could some of the diamonds still be in the car?”

“Every inch of that car, and everything in it, has been searched and sifted through. We’ve gathered much more minute evidence than diamonds.” He turned to me. “That is not for publication.”

“No, why should I tell anyone you’re doing your job?”

Mr. Belen went back to sorting diamonds. Before long, it was clear that most of the missing stones were from a middle section, the part that would hang lowest-and which had the biggest diamonds in it.

“Maybe whoever killed her grabbed the necklace and yanked down,” I said, “and kept whatever he still had in his hands. Stuffed a few more in his pockets.”

“In a hurry,” Lefebvre agreed.

“And took them after he killed her,” I said.

“How could you know that?” Belen asked.

“If she had been alive, I think he simply would have made her take them off and hand them over. The loose stones wouldn’t be in the trunk.”

“They won’t be hard to identify if the killer still has them, just as he took them,” Belen said, “but I suspect he has had them recut. This style of diamond cutting is passé. The newer ways of cutting disperse light in the stone in a way that makes them brighter.”

Lefebvre and I both took photos when Belen had the diamonds laid out in the order they belonged. Belen gave Lefebvre copies of the photos he had taken in December 1957, and looked at me apologetically.

“I’m sure Detective Lefebvre won’t mind making copies for me,” I reassured him.

Detective Lefebvre ignored me as he studied the pictures. “I have some photos of her wearing the diamonds at the party,” he said, “but none of just the necklace itself. Thanks-this will help.”

We left not much later. I mentioned to Lefebvre the Chesterfields and the lighter Jack had given to Katy. He took notes. I thanked him for bringing me along to the jewelry store and told him I’d see him later that night. I had just enough time to have dinner with Dad and Aunt Mary.

As I drove home, I thought I saw someone following me in a dark car. I made a few unnecessary turns to get to streets that were emptier, where it would be harder for a tail to hide from me. Nothing.

I told myself not to let myself get spooked so easily and kept driving.