Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

whole unit and walked to the kitchen with it. She was right on his heels. He went to the correct cupboards, pulled out filter and coffee, opened the drawer that held the coffee measurer, and went to work.
    “You have quite a memory,” she said, impressed that he knew where everything was after watching her make coffee. Once.
    “It comes in handy in my line of work,” he said. “And everything I tell you from here on out is privileged information. You don’t talk to anybody about it but me. Okay?”
    “Like I have Tawny’s home number?” Kate asked sarcastically. Then she waved her hand. “Of course I won’t talk to anybody but you.”
    Sam filled the top of the coffeemaker with water and plugged the unit in. Then he pulled a dirty coffee cup out of the dishwasher. He didn’t bother to rinse the cup before he put it on the counter. He’d drunk out of much worse containers at headquarters, and in his own office for that matter.
    Kate went to the refrigerator and began pulling out food. She knew from experience that too much coffee was hell on the stomach. She piled cheese, fruit, crackers, and some brownies she’d been resisting since yesterday on a plate and put it in front of Sam.
    Ignoring the food, he leaned against the counter, crossed his arms across his lightweight jacket, and began talking. “Usually the goods Purcell traded and sold weren’t high end. The other dealers he rented the conference room with wouldn’t have let him in at all, except that he had four quite good gems and one very fine one, and they needed help on the Royale’s stiff rent.”
    “The best stone was the blue sapphire,” Kate said without hesitation.
    “Yeah. None of the other good ones was an emerald. None of them came from South America. Thai stuff all the way.”
    “So it wasn’t a South American gang that killed Purcell?”
    “Doubt it,” Sam said, yawning. “The Colombian necktie appeared years ago as a warning to snitches and turncoats in the drug trade. If Purcell didn’t have regular deals with South Americans, they didn’t have any reason to slice him up and hang him out to dry.”
    She winced and reminded herself that she’d asked for it. And she would not let herself think about Lee undergoing the same torment. She’d mourned his death in her dreams for months.
    Now it was payback time.
    “Right,” she said flatly. “So where does that leave us?”
    “Lip-deep in shit.”
    “Any particular reason?”
    “Think about it. Purcell has led a long and murky life as a gem dealer. During all that time he never was big enough or greedy enough or dumb enough to attract attention on either side of the law.”
    She nodded.
    “Is it fair to assume,” Sam said, “that he owned the blue sapphire for more than a few days or even a few weeks?”
    “He must have owned it for at least two months.”
    “Why?”
    “You needed that much advance time to rent space at the Royale for the gem show. I know. Dad barely made it in under the deadline. He wanted a small booth next to the exit, so people would think of Mandel Inc. as a safe way to get their goodies home.” Kate watched the coffeepot as she spoke. It wasn’t quite time to steal the first cup while the rest was still dripping. “And if the other dealers wouldn’t normally have set up shop next to Purcell, but were persuaded by the fine blue sapphire to ask him into the club, then—”
    “He must have had the stone at least two months ago,” Sam finished. He smiled wearily. “It fits, damn it.”
    “What does?”
    “Purcell was killed to close off inquiries about the source of that sapphire.”
    “But if…” she began. Then her voice died.
    “Yeah. If someone was going to get his dick in a knot over Purcell’s sapphire, it should have happened at the first gem show he attended with it, not the third or fourth. Unless he didn’t flash it around at the Kansas or Chicago shows?”
    “I’ll ask some dealers if—”
    “No,” Sam cut flatly. “I’ll do it.”
    “People get nervous talking to the FBI. Especially the people who hang out with Purcell. They’re much more likely to talk to me.”
    She was right, but he really didn’t want to do it that way. She had no idea how much at risk she was.
    “I’ll get around them,” he said easily. “Just one of the things I’m paid to do.”
    “Why bother?” Kate asked. “People are used to me asking about stones. I’m a cutter. I’m always looking for good rough or badly cut Indian