Chapter 14 - The Buyer in Connecticut|
The buyer was listed as Adrian Cole, a private collector who specialized in estate jewelry.
His company operated from a renovated mansion in Greenwich, Connecticut. The address was also used by several investment and consulting businesses, including a firm connected to Charles Wexler.
Rebecca advised me not to contact Cole directly.
"If the necklace is connected to an active financial investigation, we need to preserve the chain of custody," she said. "A confrontation could make the situation worse."
I wanted to drive to Greenwich and demand my mother's necklace back.
Instead, I waited.
The legal process moved slowly, but it moved.
Through counsel, we requested records concerning the necklace's transfer, including the purchase agreement, payment details, authentication documents, and communications between Cole and the broker.
We also requested preservation of any remaining jewelry connected to the Vale collection.
Three days later, Cole's attorney responded.
Cole claimed he had purchased the necklace in good faith and had no reason to believe the seller lacked authority. He agreed to preserve the piece pending resolution of the ownership dispute.
The necklace was safe for the moment.
That should have relieved me.
Instead, I was haunted by the question of why someone connected to Northstar Meridian had wanted it so badly.
Henry offered a possible explanation.
"The Evangeline collection has unusually thorough documentation," he said. "The pieces can be identified. Their ownership history is traceable. If someone tried to use them as collateral, the records could expose discrepancies in the transaction."
"So the diamonds were a liability."
"Possibly. Or someone wanted them because they were valuable and easy to move. We shouldn't assume the motive until the records establish it."
Rebecca agreed.
We now had three competing possibilities: Preston had used the jewelry to obtain financing; he had used it to make a financial structure appear legitimate; or someone else had directed the transaction and Preston was trying to hide his role.
The truth might involve more than one of those explanations.
Then Cole's attorney sent a document that changed the case.
It was a receipt for the necklace.
The listed purchase price was far below the necklace's appraised value.
The seller was a company called Northstar Asset Services.
The receipt contained a reference to Account 17B.
And the authorization field listed a representative named Charles Wexler.
Rebecca reviewed it carefully.
"This is significant, but not conclusive," she said. "The low price may suggest an unusual transaction, but we need the payment trail and the seller's authority."
She submitted a supplemental request to preserve the related financial records.
That evening, I received a call from a blocked number.
A man's voice spoke quietly.
"Mrs. Hart, you need to stop trying to recover the necklace."
"Who is this?"
"Someone who understands what you're risking."
"Then tell me what I'm risking."
"You are reopening an investigation that was closed for a reason."
"My father's investigation was never completed."
"Your father should have left it alone."
The line went dead.
I reported the call to Rebecca and saved the time and details. She advised me to report any further threats and avoid responding to unknown callers.
I didn't sleep well.
At 7:30 the next morning, Henry called.
He had received a notice from the broker confirming that the necklace's identifying marks matched the Vale registry.
The piece was authentic.
But the notice also contained an unexpected detail.
A restoration record showed that the necklace had been examined and photographed two weeks before Sloane's engagement pictures.
The examination had been requested by a representative of Hartwell Strategic Holdings.
That meant the necklace had been inspected before Preston claimed he had an investment emergency.
He had not taken it impulsively.
Someone had planned the transfer.
Rebecca requested the restoration shop's records.
The shop agreed to preserve its files, including appointment logs and any images taken during the inspection.
One photograph showed the necklace laid open on a black velvet pad.
Beside it was a small card bearing the initials C.W.
Charles Wexler.
I stared at the photograph.
Preston had not acted alone—or, at the very least, he had been working with someone who had prepared the jewelry for a financial transaction.
Then Henry noticed something in the image.
A tiny paper tag attached to the clasp.
It contained a handwritten number.
17B-4.
He looked at me.
"Caroline, I think your grandmother's account reference wasn't just a reference to a financial file."
"What was it?"
May you like
Henry enlarged the photograph.
"It may be an inventory code for something hidden inside the necklace's original documentation."
