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Gloria felt herself melting in his arms, her entire being yielding to his caress, at the same time firm and tender. She called on all within her to pull away from him. She moved away from him, away from the porch and away from the light.
“Tell me about Valgloria’s tear drop; did you steal it?” Gloria asked, her face not visible in the dark.
“No.” Viktor answered. He was not surprised at finding out that she knew about it.
“The reports say it was stolen, and I have a feeling that you know more than you are telling me. Did you take it? I need to know the truth if we are ever going to be together.”
“No, I did not!” Viktor reiterated, taking a step towards her in the dark.
“Then who did? Do you know?”
“I did.” Cyril clad in his grey overcoat and black pants, coming from around the house. “And for the record, you cannot steal what is already yours.”
“Cyril! What are you doing here?” Gloria asked incredulously. “You stole the diamond from the museum?”
Gladys, who had been watching with glee from a window from whence the bus had pulled up outside felt a rush of excitement when she saw Cyril and bounded downstairs on her way outside.
“I don’t understand-you said you wanted to get it back for someone, presumably the museum.” Gloria asked with her iconic frown. “Do you two know each other?”
“Humph, know him?! He’s my twin!” Viktor announced just as Gladys burst out of the front door. “Trained and employed by the Russian secret service; a master of disguise. I knew you would be around here somewhere-just not as whom. You kept your distance; bided your time.”
“At your service” Cyril said with a mock bow. Gloria could see that there was not a trace of the flushness anymore and that he looked a lot like Viktor; not identical but very close. “And now you know just how I could steal the tear drop. It did cause a spot of bother for the president of the museum but his alibis finally won the day. It didn’t help them get the Valgloria’s tear drop back of course; by then I was long gone.”
“I knew the only person who had enough at stake and the expertise to pull off such a stunt was Cyril so I tracked him down and-“
“You stole Mom’s heirloom from me you absolutely wicked rogue.” Cyril blurted out. “And now I want it back.”
Gladys had by then joined Gloria and both were watching the drama in utter disbelief.
“How did it end up in the museum in the first place?” Gloria asked; her voice cutting into them like a hot knife into butter.
“Well the stone was all that Mother left behind when she ran off with our father. The stone goes back centuries, and passes from father to son. Mother got it because she was only child up until she was well passed eighteen. Leaving her family in the way that she did, forced her to abdicate the title Countess and caused her family to turn against her. There was nothing she could do to bridge the gap really; traditions run deep in those parts.” Victor explained.
“The stone was supposed to come to us naturally,” Cyril continued, “but the lunatics as one final ‘go to hell’ to dear mumsy sold it to the museum in Moscow before they died; it broke her heart! I stole it back the first week after she passed away.”
“So where does Cowling come into this?” Are you trying to sell it?” Gladys asked Viktor
“No, Ryan and I are working on a duplicate which we would put up here-in honor of mother. It would also get the authorities off the case. The methods used for getting the jewel in the first place were unethical and Cowling and I are working on a case to make sure that the Museum in Moscow can never come close enough to realize it’s a fake and can also never take it back.”
“So where is the rock now? And who gets it between you two?” Gloria asked
“What you mean this rock?” Viktor asked, pulling a tiny box out of his inner coat pocket and opening it to reveal a ring with a diamond at least four centimeters in diameter. “You get it; Gloria Patton, will you marry me?”
Epilogue:
The display read: Valgloria’s Tear Drop. The lights shone on the world’s largest blue diamond. The portrait from the fireplace hung a meter back, as a display of the last Countess Valgloria. A ribbon surrounded the area, so that the display shone like a beacon in the otherwise dark hall.
