Chapter 9: The Jeweler

Ahlgren Estate Jewelers sat on a quiet corner in Shorewood between a bakery and a shoe repair.

A bell rang when we pushed the door.

Every case glittered with old rings and brooches and watch chains.

A very small woman with a white braid sat behind the counter, peering at a ruby through a loupe.

She was at least seventy-five.

"Closed at noon on Saturdays," she said without looking up.

"It's ten," Soren said.

"Then I'm in a mood."

I stepped to the glass.

"I'm sorry to bother you. I'm Annika Halvorsen. My sister Chloe left a ticket here two years ago."

I laid the yellow slip on the counter.

The old woman put down the loupe.

She looked at the ticket, then at my ears, bare, then at my face for a long time.

"You're the sister," she said. "I saw you in the paper. They said you killed a man."

"I didn't."

"I didn't think so."

She said it with such calm that my throat closed.

"Why not?"

"Because your sister told me her big sister never looks at anything twice."

She tapped the slip.

"That's a nasty thing to say about the girl who gave her the pearls."

Soren leaned on the glass.

"Tell us what happened."

"Two Octobers ago, a pretty little blonde comes in with a pair of old pearl drops."

"She asks me to make an exact duplicate of the left one."

"I look at the originals. Real pearls, screw-back posts, gold gone soft with age."

"Was one of them chipped?" I asked.

"The left one. A hairline on the shoulder of the pearl. I told her I could copy the chip or leave it out."

"What did she say?"

"She said leave it out." The old woman pursed her lips. "Said it was prettier without."

My hand closed around the edge of the counter.

"She wanted a back that clipped on, too. A butterfly."

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