Maddie Hatter and the Deadly Diamond Read Free Page A

shining example of investigative journalism anyway. She would have to do better, or resort to her family visiting card after all. Ah, well, the jewel merchant was only a street away, housed not in the medina in the street of the jewelers, but on a thoroughfare catering to Europeans. She would not approach him head-on.
    In the jeweler’s modern shop, after a rapid assessment of Maddie’s two-year-old suit, a minor functionary came forward and asked, in impeccable English, how he might assist her.
    “I do hope you can,” she said. “My cousin is passing through Cairo soon, after his tour of the archaeological sites, and asked me to look for jewels suitable for his fiancée back in England. He saw something purchased by his old schoolmate, Baron Bodmin, which he thought came from here. Do you have pieces that might interest him?” She watched the gears turn as the minion made the calculations: a gentleman of means, acquainted with an absconding baron but not claiming him as friend, who could afford a winter’s tour in Egypt and wanted a gift suitable for an English woman of similar social standing. He bowed slightly and began to draw out velvet-lined trays.
    “The baron, as I recall, was partial to the Nefertiti line, made by our finest smiths in honour of that most beloved consort.” He expanded upon the jewels as he lifted them one by one from their trays: how the baron had chosen this style of golden brooch fixed with lapis and onyx, in the shape of the long-dead queen’s official profile. Also a necklace like this one, mimicking the Nefertiti collar’s bright hues in sapphires and diamonds.
    Maddie reached up to hold her hat as she bent over the trays, and made many admiring noises. When the minion had worked his way through the collection she asked, for her cover story, to see a few pieces not related to Nefertiti, and came away almost certain that TD had captured images of very similar pieces to the missing jewels. She hurried back to the hotel, past the ladies gossiping on the terrace, and set the little bird on the desk next to the inkwell. If the widow in herself was not memorable, perhaps her jewels would help track her down. They would indubitably add allure to a newspaper article about her.
    After a luncheon at which the same speculations were heard from the same ladies about the baron and the widow, Maddie started upstairs intending to compose an article about the missing jewels. Should she include the baron’s financial finagling, or would that be risking a suit for libel? Best to inform CJ separately and let him decide. She made a mental note to seek out legal opinions on what constituted libel. This was never a problem when all she wrote was fashion commentary, but an investigative journalist needed to know what was fit to print.
    Lady HH’s pink niece caught up to her as she left the ascender. Huffing a bit from hurrying up the stairs in a ridiculously tight pink-and-cream corset, the niece leaned against the flocked wallpaper to regain her breath, and beckoned Maddie closer.
    Maddie could not recall immediately which of the nieces this was. They both had the family last name, after all. “Do you require aid, er, Miss?”
    “Clarice.” Pink sucked in as deep a breath as her corset would allow. “My cousin is Nancy. Not that I expect you to remember, when you meet so many people in your work. Although you mentioned my Indian muslin hat trimmings particularly back in January. It was in a Cornwall Cog & Goggles column.”
    “Ah.” Maddie nodded as if she remembered. “And you would like to bring a new trim to my attention?”
    Pink—er, Clarice—shook her golden curls and looked toward the ascender. “I haven’t much time before Nancy comes looking for me.”
    “Oh.” Maddie glanced around the deserted corridor. “Would you care to step into my chamber?”
    “Please!” Clarice followed her to the less exalted wing of the hotel. In the room she gazed around at the sturdy furniture without