COSTA DEL SOL makes a stunning discovery in Marbella as he tracks down a diamond ring, stolen in a daring mid-air heist over Malaga.
The only jeweller Costa trusted owned a shop in the old town in Marbella.
To get there he drove to his flat in Malaga and picked up the car. A quick shower and an hour later he was walking through the tinkling door of Emile´s store.
Jenna, Emile´s wife, who made the amber and amethyst jewellery they sold out front, gave Costa a double take. “Oh! It´s you. I didn´t recognise you.” She sighed. “I never recognise you!”
“The day you do, I´m done. Is Emile in?”
A moment later a thin, tanned, pointy-bearded face appeared through the beads. “Come, come.”
Emile asked no questions. He bent and examined the jewel after expertly prising it from its golden bed. “It´s a fake,” he declared, holding it up by the culet.
“Has the stamp on the ring of an old friend of mine from Aix-en-Provence. Always a bad ´un.”
“Sold to a well-known guy, they told me. Hollywood figure.” Costa pocketed the ring and left a note on the counter.
“Yes, I know,” Emile replied, folding up his glasses and the money. “But, you know, Costa, those people sell lies for a living. This type of thing is bound to happen. Karma, you know. Karma, my friend.”
Costa retraced his steps. He called Dan Sanchéz on the way back down the motorway. The ring´s a fake, he said. Call Levy and tell him.
“He´ll want to meet you,” Sanchez replied. “Check you´ve got proof.”
“I´ll meet him at the Molino in Lagos tomorrow morning at first light.”
“He´ll want to meet you before that, Costa. Come to Malaga. He has offices here.”
“Tomorrow. The Molino in Lagos. First light. Beers on me.”
An hour later, as the sun went down, Costa walked back into the cemetery at Torre del Mar.