Charlotte Wynthorpe and the Case of the Disappearing Diamonds

10. Not Again

Olivia Altringham leaned forward and squinted. 

She had not thought to bring any suitable party clothes from home and was now wearing one of Charlotte's older blue and grey ensembles that brought out the colour of her eyes, but strained somewhat unflatteringly at the hips. It was the best that could be done on such short notice, however.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Olivia," Charlotte chided. "I'm not asking for a signed attestation. Would you, as a casual observer, be fooled or not?" 

Olivia straightened up, but continued to peer in concentration at the sparkling circles of glass that hung from a thick silver chain encircling Charlotte's throat. 

"Yes. I think I would be fooled, especially in artificial light. However, my opinion is nothing to be relied upon. I so rarely see diamonds anymore, or any gems for that matter, that you could show me gravel picked from the drive and I'd think it looked genuine."

"And you have only yourself to blame." Charlotte turned towards the large mirror in her dressing room and took in the reflection of herself in her most stylish crimson-on-crimson dress with matching boots and elbow-length glovelets. The fake diamonds glittered not only around her neck, but also from a bracelet on her right wrist. 

That had been Preston's idea. He gave credence to her theory that the thief was after a full regalia of diamonds and made the educated guess that, even if he'd already pocketed one, a second bracelet would still be of interest. 

Charlotte continued to critically survey her image for a few moments before saying, "Why don't you just move up here to London and skip down to Cloud Hill every fortnight, instead of the other way round?  It's a wonder you haven't gone balmy on the crumpet yet, as far away from fun and music as you are." 

"Blame the cabbages; they're simply fascinating. Now, I've got it right that I'm to say those are heirlooms from Carlton's great aunt?" 

"Precisely. Enthuse unabashedly to simply everybody, and that includes the statues in the vestibule and the hearth irons. You love these diamonds. They're gorgeous. You wish you were the lucky duck whose gentleman friend had been so stupidly generous."

"Which just happens to be completely true. To give me diamonds as a gift would never enter James' mind. More like one of those radio things or a new bicycle with a shiny bell. Although I think I should very much like a radio. The men already have one. Is Carlton in the know?" 

Charlotte shot Olivia a warning glance in the mirror. "No. And I hope to Samson that I've apprehended the thief by time it reaches his ears." 

Olivia was quiet for a few moments, smoothing her ginger bob in the space of mirror next to Charlotte's image. She'd had her long hair cut off in favour of the new fashion and was still a little unused to her own reflection. "I give him three months. Perhaps two."

"Who? For what?"

"Carlton. Until you kick him to Celia Paggett, all slobbered and chewed on like an old slipper. And right before you dive straight back into the dating market with a splash so loud, holiday makers down in Brighton will look up in surprise. I know you, Charlotte. I give it three months before he's weeping into his beer and moaning your name." 

"Perhaps. But to Celia? Never. I don't hate him that much." Charlotte smiled slyly into the mirror.

"Of course not. So you think it's a professional, then?" 

Charlotte pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, then relaxed her features again. "I need more eye kohl, don't you think? As far as the exceptional Inspector Bump and I can deduce, it's either a professional stealing on contract, or it's one of our own set gone rogue."