Diamond of Deceit

By Emelle Gamble

Dead men don’t rob banks
Set in San Diego, California in 1990, bank executive Emma Kingston was on vacation when the vault blew up. A man was killed – and his identity strangely obliterated by acid. A king’s ransom littered the floor around him – but not a thing was stolen from the hundreds of safe deposit boxes.
Insurance investigator Philip Rowlands proposed a chilling explanation for the bizarre break-in. After years of hunting down Coop, Emma’s fiancé, Philip claimed to have tracked him to the scene of the crime. Philip thinks Emma had something that had belonged to Coop – and he wanted it back.
But Coop had given Emma nothing but memories, and all those turned bitter two years ago when Coop was seen jumping from a bridge in an apparent suicide.
Philip doesn’t believe Coop’s dead, and Emma doesn’t believe she can trust Philip. Will the new man in her life lead to solving the mysteries around her late fiancé, or is he obsessed and simply another mistake she must avoid making?

Originally published by Harlequin Intrigue. This classic romantic suspense novel is now available for the first time in eBook form.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emelle Gamble
• Release date: Nov 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311210593

Emelle Gamble

My books have one thing in common...ordinary women in extraordinary situations. They are all relationship stories about women and the men they love, and the friends they hold dearest. They also all have a touch of something else; a mystery here, a ghost there, an exciting or shocking turn of events. This gives the folks in my imagined world an interesting extra conflict to deal with, and my readers an extra issue to think about.SECRET SISTER is a woman's fiction novel with a touch of paranormal that sets the plot in motion. It's hard to put down once you start.DUETS, a prequel novella, and the novel MOLLY HARPER, set three years later, explore the multi-faceted impact family secrets have on the lives of three women and the people who love them. It's heartfelt. and the final chapter is now available! DECEMBER WEDDING is the last chapter about Cruz and Molly, and I hope you enjoy their happy ever after.DATING CARY GRANT is a modern Manhattan tale of a career woman, her estranged small town mayor hubby, and a certain drop-dead handsome neighbor who just might be the ghost of a certain screen icon. It's fun!I hope you enjoy all these stories. Please come see me at www.EmelleGamble.com, follow me on Twitter @EmelleGamble or email me at [e-mail] any time.

Book preview

Diamond of Deceit

Emelle Gamble

Emma’s eyes opened wide

From where she lay, she could see into the mirror that hung opposite the hallway closet. In that shining surface, the closet doors were reflected clearly and that image suddenly filled her with horror. When she had stood there and undressed a few minutes ago, the doors were closed.

Now one was ajar, and the opening was getting larger.

Wildly, Emma glanced around. Her eyes fell on her shoes lying beside the bed, the spiked heels glittering in the dark. Her glance darted back to the closet reflection. Just then a hand reached out from the black recess, then a bare arm, pale hands with long fingers, and lastly, a head whose features were mashed grotesquely under a taut nylon stocking.

She scrambled out of the smooth sheets and grabbed for the shoes. The figure rushed closer, hands outstretched with fatal intent...

Publishing History

Print edition published by Harlequin Intrigue

Copyright 1990, 2015 Marsha L. Nuccio

Digital Edition published by Emelle Gamble at Smashwords 2015

Cover design by Tammy Seidick Design

Digital formatting by A Thirsty Mind Book Design

All rights reserved. No part of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews may be reproduced in any form by any means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic and print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

With love for Miss Olivia Rose,

my most helpful and loyal fan

Table of Contents

Cast of Characters

A Note from the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

List of Books

About the Author

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Emma Kingston – She had managed to lay the past to rest... until the ghost of a tragic love returned with a vengeance.

Philip Rowlands – Stanford Cooper had cost him everything, and he was more than eager to return the favor.

Sergeant Jack Moore – He hated outside interference, especially when it came to murder.

Jason Maxwell – The diamond magnate had several scores to settle, but had one price he would not pay.

Monique Maxwell – The South African beauty was a faithful wife who lived to regret introducing Emma to Stanford Cooper.

Herbert Carruthers – The president of Ocean Springs Bank had been burned once by Coop, and was not about to let it happen again.

Nancy Donovan – Emma’s best friend had a secret lover who held the key to a fatal secret.

Mike Gershwin – He tipped Philip that his quarry had surfaced, and had his own reasons for wanting Coop caught.

Stella Cortez – Philip’s former business partner was faced with new dangers when Emma entered the picture.

Manero Duvalier – The hired killer was good at his job, and even better at double-crossing.

Stanford Coop Cooper – Alive or dead... the man was trouble.

A Note from the Author...

Dear Readers:

Thank you for your interest in this book. It was originally published in the 1990’s by Harlequin Intrigue, where I wrote as M. L. Gamble. After a wonderful decade of writing for Harlequin, I spent a few years away from fiction writing, but returned five years ago as Emelle Gamble.

Harlequin has returned all publishing rights to me, at my request, so that I could republish these titles in electronic form and bring these romantic suspense thrillers to a completely new audience. These books are firmly set in America of the 1990s...the times in which they were written...without cellphones or internet or pesky twitter and other electronic gadgets to get in the way of falling in love, or finding a murderer!

I hope you enjoy this book.

Come visit me on the web at www.EmelleGamble.com or at Facebook at Author Emelle Gamble. I have settled into writing bigger novels now, stories about ordinary women in extraordinary circumstances, which span the genres from women’s fiction to romance, and all these newer books have a twist of something unexpected.

You can find my other reissued classic tales of romantic suspense, as well as my later work, at the retail outlet of your choice.

Happy Reading!

Emelle

Chapter One

Coronado Island, California

At 6:00 a.m. on Friday, June 19, two guards employed by Ocean Springs Community Bank unlocked the employees’ entrance on the east side of the building and went inside.

They walked briskly down a dark corridor, stopping only to switch off a light sensitive trip alarm. Cash bags inside the vault had to be checked and loaded onto their wheeled cart for the Brinks truck arriving in ten minutes.

At one minute past six, they entered the vault lobby at the rear of the building. The first guard tucked his Walkman into his shirt pocket and sat down. The screen of the computer terminal station outside the thousand-pound chrome doors of the Coronado, California bank was blank. He punched in his security code and waited for the prompt. It usually took only seconds to complete the procedure that automatically released the locks.

Today the monitor did not respond to his query. Instead of giving the access program, it went offline and then the keyboard froze. The guard punched in his security clearance again as his young coworker paced beside him.

What’s wrong? It’s never done that before, has it?

The other guard shook his head. The screen remained blank. He stood and hustled over to the vault and examined the door for a moment. He reached down suddenly and jerked on the round steering handle. To his astonishment, the vault was already open.

An acrid smell wafted out from the dark interior, reminding him for some reason of his tour in Vietnam. Call the police. Now.

He drew his gun and hit the light switch inside the safe deposit area. Oh, God, no.

At these words, the other guard returned to his side. For several seconds they stood and stared at the deadly chaos before them.

Piles of boxes were scattered all over the floor. The interior marble walls were covered with dark smudges of gunpowder and clumps of gray ash. Strands of undetonated fuse wire ran in mad trails up and down the steel cabinets, draping across bundles of cash, mounds of jewelry, and stacks of glittering coins.

Documents were strewn around the twenty-by-twenty space as if carried by a tornado.

But an even more horrific sight lay in the midst of the rifled possessions. A man, dressed in sweatpants, turtleneck sweater, cap and high-top Nikes, was sprawled face down in a pool of blood. It would be nearly impossible to identify him, the first guard noted grimly. He now understood why his memory had leaped to war.

For the corpse could have been a soldier scalded by the vengeful hell of burning napalm. All of the skin on his face and hands had been chemically burned away, revealing the gray flesh of the newly dead.

* * *

THE STACCATO BLEEP of the phone shattered Philip Rowlands’s concentration. He reached for the receiver, reminding himself to turn the ringer off after this call.

Hello? Wearily he retyped his query into the computer.

Philip Rowlands, please.

Speaking. He leaned back in the leather chair and pushed his glasses onto the top of his head so he could rub his tired eyes.

Hi, buddy! This is Mike Gershwin.

Bittersweet memories flooded through Philip at the sound of his old friend’s voice. Along with another man, Philip and Mike Gershwin had been part of an inseparable trio, cruising through college together, and then becoming partners in business, where their careers and bank balances grew over ten years.

Side by side, they had made their dreams come true, until a nightmare two years ago had shattered all their lives.

Mike? What’s up?

Right to business, huh? Geez, Rowlands. I thought you would lighten up as you aged. Aren’t you glad to hear from me?

Philip punched the save key on the board. Sorry. Of course I am. It’s been too long. Outside he noted the gathering storm clouds above the parched Marin County hills and fought to swallow the unexplained lump in his throat. I’ve been working since 5:00 a.m. Sometimes I think I am more software than human. How have you been, Mike? And what the hell have you been up to?

Philip listened to Mike’s comments about an exotic new girlfriend and an ex-wife without reply. He sat forward in his chair, tensing as Gershwin got to his reason for calling. Anyway, I thought you might want to know that one of Cooper’s old connections is smack in the middle of a hot little mess.

Who?

The fiancée, Emma Kingston. I know she’s in your file. The company I work for now, American Life and Casualty, got a call yesterday from the board of directors of Ocean Springs Community Bank for a preliminary claim and investigation. When I saw her name on the roster, a red flag with your name on it went up in my head. I thought you might like a piece of this.

Philip pulled out a well-worn leather notebook and opened it to the section marked photos. Emma Kingston was in the third one.

A slim, black haired beauty, the photo showed her with her father, New York jewelry appraiser Gregory Kingston.

A news clipping announcing her engagement was pasted on the back of the picture.

Fiancée? That’s right, for a second I forgot Cooper was engaged.

Yeah, well the bum died a few days after they announced, so it wasn’t much of an engagement. The woman moved to the San Diego area shortly after the suicide. This is the first time she’s come up connected with anything fishy.

With a snap, Philip closed the book. His hands were sweating despite the morning breeze blowing off Carmel Bay. I didn’t know you were still keeping an eye out for any of them, Mike.

There was a long silence while the two men decided what could and could not be said. Finally, Mike spoke.

I don’t make a career of it, buddy, but I keep my eyes open, for old times’ sake. Speaking of which, do you still see Stella?

Yeah. Philip leaned dawn to pet the Irish setter at his feet. I’m watching her pooch Mille she’s visiting her mom in Mexico. I’m going down to see her this week to return the mutt. Her software business is starting to take off, so she’s keeping real busy.

I’m glad to hear that, Philip. It sounds like she’s finally recovered from... Gershwin’s voice caught for a second. From all the misery Cooper caused.

I think she has. Philip took a breath. Have you?

Hell yes! Mike boomed back. Everyone I know has gone bankrupt at least once. But, hey, I’ve still got it. American Life hired me despite all the bad press in my background. How about you, old pal? Did you ever start a new business?

No. He exhaled. I’m sticking to consulting. It’s what I always did best, anyway.

The loss of their jointly owned company, Rowl with It, amidst a storm of criminal charges and SEC investigations, was still hard to speak about. Let’s get back to Kingston, Philip said. She’s vice president of marketing and public relations at Ocean Springs, according to my last update. Is that what you have?

Yeah. They have five branches, and she’s at headquarters. Gershwin chuckled. "I see you’re still keeping up with all of them, huh?"

Philip’s mouth tightened. I told you once I wouldn’t back off until I proved Coop is still alive.

Philip, the SEC guys and the FBI closed the books on Cooper’s crimes. They know he framed you, and stole from our company. But they are convinced he’s dead.

I know. And I think that’s great. Now I don’t have to update them on anything I find out.

"Just you and him, huh? Stella always did say you reminded her of Gary Cooper in High Noon."

I hope someday it’s just me and him. Philip’s hands tightened into fists. We’ll have a good long talk.

Gershwin inhaled sharply, concern coloring his voice. You really need to let the past go, buddy. Payback is fine, but spending the rest of your life...

"Save it, Mike. I’ve heard it. Payback isn’t what I’m after. The man ruined our business and planted evidence to ruin me personally. Nothing I can do can change any of that, but if I find him, when I find him, at least we’ll get some justice."

You sound pretty wound-up.

Me? Philip relaxed his hands. Nah, I’m cool. So when was Emma Kingston’s bank robbed?

Early yesterday. It was a real professional job going in, but something went wrong. The cops found a dead guy in the vault.

How much did they take?

This is the weird part. It looks like maybe nothing was taken, though they blew open about fifty safe deposit boxes. It’ll be a few days before we know for sure, but they left a fortune on the vault floor.

Philip pushed his glasses back over his eyes and rolled his head to work out a kink. Any ID on the corpse?

Nope. The poor guy had acid poured on his face and palms to wash away telltale fingerprints. The cops are checking dental records now.

Philip’s brain whirred away. Violence was not Coop’s trademark, at least not the physical kind.

Interesting. Someone is covering their tracks. Did they blow their way in? He cradled the phone on his shoulder and brought the computer screen back up. He punched in the password Coop, letters he had typed so often he sometimes thought the word was permanently etched onto the tips of his fingers.

No sign of explosives outside. The cops are betting an insider at the bank disabled the computer controlling the alarm circuits.

Philip’s heart rate increased as the obvious conclusion jumped to mind. An insider like Emma Kingston?

Could be.

What does she have to say?

Nothing. For the first time since she went to work at the bank, she is off on vacation. Conveniently left no info as to how to contact her.

The cops think she’s involved?

Let’s just say they think she looks suspicious.

Which is just how someone might want her to look, Philip thought. Ruined careers and reputations were a Coop specialty.

He read quickly off the screen about Emma Kingston’s background. Magnum cum laude from NYU School of Business, volunteered in drug rehab programs. Emma was cleared of all suspicion after Coop’s supposed suicide, though one of the bankers she was friends with was charged as a co-conspirator with Cooper, though he was never convicted.

On paper she looked ramrod straight.

But there was no escaping the fact that she had agreed to marry a guy who was a twenty-four-carat crook. Philip suppressed his growing excitement. This might be it. Coop might have surfaced at last, and this trail was only two days old.

What kind of system did they get through?

"You’re going to love this part. Standard issue Swiss steel, controlled by a Rowl with It security system."

Great. Philip swallowed a bitter taste in his mouth. Knocking over a bank that utilized software designed by a firm he had ruined would be just the type of thing to give Cooper’s sick mind a thrill.

The muscles in his neck stretched taut. Can you clear me with the bank’s directors as an investigative consultant?

Gershwin’s voice was tentative. I can. But, Philip, I want you to promise me that if you find no trace of Cooper this time, you’ll finally let go.

I’ll let go when I know for sure he’s dead.

Two beats of silence were finally broken by Gershwin’s soft reply. Even if he wasn’t, finding him wouldn’t get our company back, buddy,

No, but we would know once and for all how he got the info to ruin us. Philip pulled out a book of phone numbers. I can get a flight out of San Francisco in a couple of hours.

Great. Check in with me when you get there. I’m in La Jolla.

Philip took down Gershwin’s number. I didn’t know you moved back to California. I’m glad to hear it. Maybe you and I and Stella can get together.

There was a long pause. I don’t think Stella would be too hot on that, old man. Do you?

The memory of the last meeting of the three friends played in Philip’s mind. Stella had accused Mike of being complicit in the loss of the company since it was Mike’s idea to take them public.

Gershwin had hired the clerk the cops discovered stole documents for Cooper, but Mike had lost everything, too. Philip had tried to convince a bitter Stella that her fears about Mike were nonsense, but she had never completely forgiven Mike for what she felt were fatal business decisions that had destroyed all of them.

Stella has mellowed. I’m sure if I tell her I talked to you, and that you’re back on your feet, she’ll be happy for you. Philip chuckled. She’ll also be thrilled you called us with this news about Emma Kingston.

Gershwin chuckled. That’s a hell of a way to look at a bank robbery and acid-covered corpse, buddy. However, if you can work it out so we can get together, I’ll be there with bells on. But tell me before I hang up, did you ever come up with anything solid to actually prove Cooper’s alive?

Philip inhaled deeply. Mike had cut right to the soul of the problem, and for a moment he felt oddly embarrassed. After spending sixteen hours a day for the past two years of his life chasing someone most people thought was dead, he had only a loosely woven net of half facts and suspicions to prove his theory.

No, nothing a grand jury could run with. But with a flesh and blood woman as bait? I might be able to finally land the phantom.

That’d be great. But keep in mind it’s a real fine line between dedication and obsession.

Philip knew that, firsthand. I appreciate the call, Mike. Who do I ask for in Coronado?

Sergeant Jack Moore at the police department. And a nervous guy at the bank by the name of Herbert Carruthers. He’s president. He’s the one the cops thought might be working with Coop. Emma Kingston worked with him in New York.

They came to a new bank in San Diego together?

I don’t think they’ve got anything but a professional relationship, but yeah. A rich friend of Carruthers recruited the pair of them to come west.

Carruthers is the banker who gave Coop the million dollar loan used to buy up our stock, right?

Right. But no one could ever prove he knew about the insider trading, or Coop’s plot to buy up our stock.

Making hasty notes, Philip pushed his glasses back over his eyes. Thanks a lot for the call. I’ll get a room at the Hotel del Coronado and be in touch in a couple of days.

Lucky you. The Del’s beach is full of women.

I’ll look at a couple for you. Philip hung up the phone and sat while his brain churned in excitement.

He swallowed and calmed his breathing down. He was going to do this differently than the other times he had a lead on Coop. This time he was going out in the field himself to get information firsthand, not trust reports, cops or the data banks. He was going to look people in the eye and ask his own questions.

This time he would find out once and for all if he had spent the past two years chasing a dead man.

Philip called and arranged the flight, and then threw his clothes together and put the dog in her carrier.

As a last thought, he tucked the leather notebook in his bag. But he did not need the girl’s picture to remember what she looked like.

As he walked out the door, a new worry entered his mind.

Coop was ruthless, and if he had really surfaced, he would be more dangerous than ever.

Philip speculated how long it would take to find Emma Kingston, and hoped she would still be alive when he did.

* * *

IT WAS THE MOST PERFECT Sunday morning she had spent in years, Emma Kingston thought. The shady patio in front of the cottage offered a spectacular view of the Pacific, but was secluded and quiet.

She stretched her legs and sighed. After spending all day Friday and Saturday swimming and touring the Hotel del Coronado’s grounds, today she was just going to let herself be lazy.

This does it, Emma commented to her best friend, Nancy Donovan, sitting a few feet away. I’m never going back to work at the bank.

Oh? What are you going to do for money?

I’ll be a beachcomber. At night I’ll sneak up into these bushes and sleep. Emma pointed to the azaleas and dazzling pink fuchsias covering the patio’s low walls. You’re always saying my life’s too structured. Sleeping in the shrubs would put an end to that, wouldn’t it?

It would. Which is why you would never do it. Inside of two days you would have built a cave in the dunes, furnished it and charted out how many tons of aluminum cans you would need to collect to pay for dinner. Then you would have one of your hotshot interns up here expanding the business.

Emma closed her eyes and snuggled back into the soft contour of the padded lounger. A glass of grapefruit juice beside her glistened in the June sunshine.

Ernie Carson would be perfect. He’s an incredibly quick study. She smiled as she thought of the college student interning under her at the bank. And his English is really improving, don’t you think? Those classes I’m making him take are paying off.

You’re hopeless, Emma.

You think I’m overbearing? She meant to make the question sound lighthearted, but failed. Personal fears about her workaholic tendencies itched inside her mind.

Not overbearing, just so intense. And... Nancy let her voice drift off as she thought how best to phrase her criticism. Maybe a little driven.

Emma sat up. Driven? I’m driven?

Maybe I’m using the wrong word. All I mean is you need to relax a little, open yourself up to what’s happening with people around you.

Suddenly Emma felt much better. She read Nancy’s train of thought clearly. People? You don’t mean people. You mean men.

Men are people, too. And since you’ve brought them up, yes, I do mean men. You haven’t had a serious date for two years. Don’t you think that’s long enough?

Long enough for what? She shaded her eyes from the sun, not wanting her best friend to see the sudden rush of what felt like self-pity.

To forget about the past.

Emma laughed, but did not sound amused.

Maybe I’m using the wrong word again. Not forget. Forgive. Forgive yourself for making a mistake. Take another chance. A dancing shadow from the umbrella’s fringe moved along Nancy’s arms as she rubbed lotion onto her tanned legs.

Sometimes I don’t feel like I deserve another chance.

Why? Nancy’s voice was shocked.

"Maybe I