Four months ago Spencer had reported my missing diamond brooch as stolen to the insurance company to collect a forty-five-thousand-dollar payout.

He’d used the money to pay Brielle’s private lawyer in New Jersey while telling me the brooch was at a Midtown bench jeweler for appraisal.

“Who signed the sworn statement that came with that precinct filing?” I asked.

“Spencer Aldridge,” the manager said.

“He signed it Tuesday afternoon.”

I tucked the blue slip into my handbag and zipped the leather pocket shut.

“Keep the thirty million in the liquid account,” I said.