Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

volunteer some interesting leads into the gem-fencing community. So far the strike force hadn’t done much but spend public funds following leads that didn’t pan out.
    “Okay, Ms….”
    “Natalie,” Kate said quickly, hoping her mother wouldn’t care if her name was borrowed.
    “You have a middle and a last name?”
    She’d already decided that Smith or Jones was a nonstarter. So she grabbed the first words she thought of: her profession and her mother’s maiden name. “Cutter. Middle name Harrison.”
    “All right, Ms. Natalie Harrison Cutter. You have any ID?”
    She was ready for that too. “Up in my room. You aren’t going there.”
    Sam decided to let it go for now. Without releasing his grip on her, he plucked the stone from her palm. “We’ll just walk back to the conference room and see what some dealers think of this stone.”
    “Let go of me,” she said, tugging against his grip.
    “Not unless you’d rather wear handcuffs. I’ve seen you move, sweetheart. Quick and slick.”
    Kate locked her teeth together against the anger and adrenaline that wanted to spill out in a rush of scathing words. “Typical condescending FBI,” she said distinctly. “Sweetheart.”
    The left corner of Sam’s mouth tilted up. “You know a lot of us federal robots, do you?”
    “Let’s say I’m familiar with the breed.”
    “The kind of familiarity that leads to contempt?”
    Kate’s sideways look said it all.
    He grinned. “I like your style.”
    “I’ll change it.”
    “Come with me, Ms. ‘No ID’ Natalie. We’ll see how wide your sassy streak is.”
    “If I were a man, you wouldn’t call it sassy.”
    “If you were a man, Purcell wouldn’t have been so busy looking at your tits that he took his eyes off the main point—gems. What goes around, comes around. Sweetheart.”
    She shot him a dark glance, saw that she was being baited, and gritted her teeth.
    Then she followed him because there was no other choice except to be dragged behind like a sulky child.
    Sam selected the second booth on the left, well away from Purcell. The woman behind the counter was neatly turned out in a Southwest-style jacket and black slacks. Her gray hair was cut close, as were her nails. Gems were arranged in the case like a rainbow. While not a very original design, the multicolored arc of gems was striking.
    “Good morning, ma’am,” Sam said. “Beautiful display you have.”
    The woman smiled, responding to the approval and warmth in his voice. The fact that the rest of the package was male and easy moving didn’t hurt. She might have been old enough to be his mother, but her eyesight was just fine.
    “Thank you,” she said. “We try to please.”
    Kate bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming—or laughing. Sam was reeling the woman in the same way Kate had reeled in Purcell.
    Only Sam didn’t have to undo a single button.
    Life really isn’t fair, Kate thought angrily. Why couldn’t he have been as sleazy as Purcell? But, no. He’s a one hundred percent pure FBI male. Clean-shaven. Confident. Condescending.
    Oh, lucky me.
    “I’m sure you do just that,” Sam said, smiling at the dealer. “If you’re not too busy, I need your opinion on something.”
    The woman waved one hand. “If a line forms behind you, I’ll kick you out. Until then, how can I help you?”
    Sam held out his hand, palm up. The sapphire glowed like a huge blue eye stolen from an alien idol.
    The woman’s breath came in with an audible sound.
    “I say this is worth a lot of money.” Sam tilted his head toward his captive. “My sweetheart here doesn’t think so. Can you settle the argument for us?”
    “That looks like the stone Mike Purcell was bragging on.”
    “Purcell?” Kate said quickly. “We didn’t get it from him. My, uh, sweetie won it in a poker game last night.”
    “Yeah, she gave me hell on the half shell when I got in late,” Sam said.
    “If you’d come home a winner,” Kate said with lethal sincerity, “I wouldn’t have cared when you got in.”
    “Hey, fifty-eight big ones for a stone like this is winning in any man’s book.”
    “May I examine it?” the dealer asked, pulling a black velvet pad closer and reaching for loupe and tweezers.
    “Sure.”
    The dealer put the loupe to her eye with one hand. With the other, she used the tweezers to pick up the stone and bring it into focus in front of the loupe. She studied it intently for a long moment, shifted a tiny gooseneck