Page 39 of Hawk & Sparrow

“Really?” Vesper cocked her head. “How interesting.”

“Interesting?” A small furrow appeared in Sarah’s brow. “And why is that?”

“Oh.” Vesper waved a dismissive hand, her voice light. “Don’t mind me. I’m sure it’s nothing at all.”

“Please.” A hard glint flashed in Sarah’s blue eyes. “Do share. I insist.”

“Well, if you truly insist.” Vesper took a deep breath. “You say your necklace is a red diamond. That’s interesting to me because, as I’m sure you already know, diamonds come in an array of colors, but red is rarest. That’s because, unlike most colored diamonds, red diamonds are formed through plastic deformation of the mineral’s atomic structure, a process that takes many millions of years.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. The young women behind her exchanged looks of confusion.

“In fact,” Vesper went on, “red diamonds are so rare that the Gemological Institute of Victerra tracks them meticulously, and keeps an active record of how many there are in the country. There are specific tariff regulations in place that require any red diamonds brought into the country to be reported immediately. As of 1898, there are only four red diamonds in Victerra. All four are kept in museum collections, and the largest of them is only a half carat.” Vesper nodded to Sarah’s necklace. “Now, I’m no trained gemologist, of course, but yours looks to be at least three carats. If that’s true, your parents purchased a red diamond that is unreported, unregistered, and highly illegal. More likely though—since the Calida Isles stopped sanctioning offshore dives for rare minerals several decades ago—it’s not a red diamond at all. My guess is it’s something far cheaper, like garnet, or even red zircon.” Vesper offered a small smile. “As I said, it’s a lovely necklace. I just hope your father didn’t overpay for it.”

Sarah’s mouth opened and closed several times, like a fish underwater. Slowly, her face reddened until it was nearly the same shade as her necklace. She shot Vesper a withering look before she stormed away, the two other young women right on her heels. When she was gone, Vesper exhaled.

“Goodness.” Bess was still sitting in her chair. “How on earth did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That.” Bess gestured at the place where Sarah had been standing. “How did you know so much about red diamonds?”

A small smile touched Vesper’s lips. In truth, she’d once written a piece on the Gemological Institute of Victerra for the Globe. She’d found what she’d learned in her research interesting, but never thought it would have any real-life application. To Bess, she simply said: “I read something in the newspaper once.”

Bess’s eyes were glistening with tears. “Thank you. You were absolutely brilliant.”

Vesper started. With the exception of Tom and Chief Stettner, most people found her skill in deductive reasoning odd; men especially found it off-putting. But there was no judgment in Bess’s voice now, just unabashed admiration. She sat back down, unable to contain her smile.

“It was nothing,” she said. “I wasn’t just going to stand there and let her say those terrible things about you.”

A small smile touched Bess’s face. “Well, thank you again. I hope, someday, I can repay your kindness. That’s the second time you’ve helped me this month.”

Vesper trusted her instinct as she leaned in. “Bess, I don’t mean to pry, but that night, when I saw you for the first time in the maze, was everything all right?”

The young woman sat up. “Of course, why do you ask?”

Vesper hesitated. “It’s just that … you seemed upset, not just because you were worried about getting caught.”

“Oh.” Bess averted her gaze. “It was nothing, really. I … I was in the maze hoping to meet someone, but they never showed.” Tears filled her eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, I should go.”

“Bess—”

The young woman said nothing else as she left the medical tent as fast as she could and didn’t look back.

THIRTEEN

MONDAY, 7TH OF NOVEMBER—12:16 P.M.

“I think we have a second suspect in Francis Gladwell’s murder.”

Across the small table, Maximilian grimaced before taking a long sip of his caffe latte. They were seated at Guillermo’s, tucked away in a corner that allowed Vesper to watch the coffeehouse’s breakfast crowd give way to the usual midday rush. They’d come to the coffeehouse after the polo match had ended, looking for lunch, but Vesper wanted answers too.

“Who?” asked Maximilian. He looked considerably better now. The color had returned to his face, and he seemed much more alert.

“Bess Duxley,” said Vesper. “During the polo match, I learned that she and Francis had some sort of affair, so she had the means to lure him away from the party. I saw her leaving the maze on the night of the exhibition, which gave her opportunity, and if it’s true that her affair with him cost Bess her reputation, that could be a motive to want him dead.”

“I’d heard rumors that the two of them were … involved,” Maximilian acknowledged, “but Francis was involved with a lot of women. If every young lady who’d had a fling with him was a suspect, we’d be investigating women for weeks.”

“Yes, but Bess was the only one we know of whose reputation suffered for it,” Vesper pointed out.