The Diamond Caper Read Online Free PDF Page A

report has been anywhere near Hervé. Let me show it to him, and see what he thinks.”
    —
    The evening ended, as so many other evenings had ended, with a nightcap on the terrace, the velvet sky above, the dark, tranquil expanse of the Mediterranean stretching below them.
    “This is heaven,” said Elena.
    Reboul laughed. “It’s a good thing you like it, because you’re going to have just about the same view. That reminds me—I must call the
notaire
tomorrow to see if we can set a date for the signing. Luckily, from what he’s said, it should be pretty straightforward.”
    “Is that unusual?”
    “It depends. Sometimes the seller wants a chunk of the sale price in cash, to reduce taxes. It’s illegal, of course, but it happens. And when it does, there’s this ritual dance—we call it
la valse des notaires
—just before the actual signing. Obviously, the
notaire,
being a man of the law, can’t be involved in anything improper, so when the moment comes to sign, he has to take a call in another office. Or go to the bathroom. Or whatever—the important thing is that he’s not present when the cash is checked and counted.”
    Sam was grinning. “So how does he know when to come back?”
    “Well, you can count a lot of cash in five minutes. If it needs to be longer, a hint will be dropped. Anyway, you won’t have to worry about all that. The owner has said that she’ll be quite happy with a check.” Reboul stood up, yawned, and stretched. “I’ll call the
notaire
in the morning.”
    —
    It was a call with surprisingly rapid results. The owner, having procrastinated and dithered for several months, was now anxious to sign as quickly as possible, for fear of losing the sale. “I don’t know exactly what the
notaire
told her,” said Reboul as he put down the phone, “but it was certainly effective. She’s taking the train down from Paris tonight, and the signing has been scheduled for 10:30 tomorrow morning.”
    Elena and Sam went to meet with the manager of Reboul’s bank, who had been called in to supervise the transfer of funds from Los Angeles dollars to Marseille euros. Naturally, the manager told them, with such a substantial sum, certain safeguards had to be observed before a certified check could be issued: passports had to be produced, studied, and photocopied. A receipt, in triplicate, had to be signed and witnessed. No “i” remained undotted. But eventually, with the certified check folded and stowed safely in Elena’s handbag, they were able to have a celebratory glass of Champagne in one of the bars overlooking the Vieux Port.
    “Now I know what it’s like to be arrested,” Elena said. “I was half-expecting them to take my fingerprints. I almost felt guilty when they gave us the check.”
    Sam raised his glass. “Here’s to domestic bliss. Are you excited?”
    “I know we’re going to love it. But Sam—we’re going to want to spend a lot of time here.”
    “That’s the general idea, isn’t it?”
    “Sure. It’s just that if we do, I’ll have to quit my job.”
    Sam leaned forward and took Elena’s hand. “Listen to me. You haven’t been happy in that job for the past couple of years. It’s time to move on. Like I said, you can send me out to work. We’ll get by.”
    Elena’s eyebrows went up. “Mr. Levitt, are you suggesting that I should become a kept woman?”
    Sam beamed. “You bet. Another glass of Champagne?”
    —
    The final nail in the coffin of Elena’s insurance career came that evening, in the form of a call from Frank Knox in Los Angeles. After questioning her, more in hope than expectation, to hear what she had discovered, there were a few moments of silence before Frank spoke again.
    “I’m sorry about this, but I need you back here right now to help us tie everything up. Just for a couple of days.”
    There were sighs from Elena and more apologies from Frank before it was agreed—as soon as the signing was completed, Elena would take the