and that was a good thing.
“I didn't notice how gorgeous that piece is until now,” Park said quietly.
Coco nodded. “It casts a spell. Look at how quiet the crowd got.”
“She's
always
worn jewelry beautifully,” Lex commented of her sister. “I can't wear chokers—they don't call enough attention to my boobs.”
They stood a few feet away, watching calmly as Madison seized and mastered the moment. She tossed her head back again. She pivoted as if she were standing at the edge of a runway. Then she smiled as three cameras flashed in rapid succession. The cool act worked like a charm. She was representing Hamilton Holdings, Inc., at the gala, so it made perfect sense for her to wow the crowd— especially now, with so many people wondering what the hell was happening.
It was an ugly scene. There were at least fifteen uniformed police officers standing along the corridor, looking grim. Yellow crime-scene tape sealed off the entrance to the coatroom. And a tall middle-agedman with thinning blond hair and a badge around his neck was standing on the threshold scribbling notes onto a pad. He muttered something to one of the cops and then looked up.
Park immediately met his stare and locked her eyes with his. As he came toward her in quick strides, she extended her hand.
The older man seemed taken aback by the gesture. He paused, cracked a nervous smile, and folded his hand in hers. “Detective Charlie Mullen, Homicide,” he said.
“Park Hamilton,” she replied, making certain to keep her tone calm. “Charmed, I'm sure.”
“I know who you are, Ms. Hamilton,” Mullen said.
“Please, call me Park.” She glanced over her shoulder, introducing Lex and Coco. Before the detective could begin asking questions, she said, “This has been a terrible and unfortunate tragedy. We were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That's putting it mildly.” Mullen cleared his throat. “Would you mind calling your sister over here? I need to speak with all of you.”
“Madison,” Park said lightly. “Could you join us, please?”
Turning on her heels, Madison made her way over to them with graceful steps, as though waltzing across the floor. She extended her hand to the older man.
Mullen took it, and his eyes fell inevitably to theshimmering choker. “Those are some rocks you got around your neck,” he said, impressed.
“Thank you.” Madison smiled.
“Are those real emeralds?”
The question—so innocent and yet so painfully offensive—rattled Madison to the core. She couldn't believe someone would actually think she was wearing
costume jewelry.
Fake emeralds? Fake sapphires? The very thought of hastily cut green glass and those ugly blue plastic nuggets made her dizzy. She blinked, speechless, and looked from Park to Lex to Coco. When the silence got tense, she turned back to Detective Mullen and said, with as much strength as she could muster, “Yes. They're real.”
“Amazing,” Mullen whispered. “I don't think I've ever seen emeralds that big this close up.”
Park knew a cue when she heard one. She also knew an impressed fan when she met one. Detective Mullen might have been in his forties, but he was obviously in awe of the company surrounding him. She wondered if he had a daughter her age, or if his wife was one of those tabloid magazine junkies who enjoyed reading about the infamous Hamilton sisters. Whatever the case, it wouldn't hurt to make small talk. “Do you know the legend behind real emeralds, Detective?” she asked him sweetly.
“I don't,” he admitted.
“Well,” Park began, “emeralds are among theearliest gemstones known to man. In ancient times, they were dedicated to the goddess Venus for love, and also because they were believed to improve intelligence. But they were mainly used for love. They say that if you give someone an emerald, she'll be a faithful lover for the rest of her life. They also say that once you own an emerald, you can never lose it.
“I didn't notice how gorgeous that piece is until now,” Park said quietly.
Coco nodded. “It casts a spell. Look at how quiet the crowd got.”
“She's
always
worn jewelry beautifully,” Lex commented of her sister. “I can't wear chokers—they don't call enough attention to my boobs.”
They stood a few feet away, watching calmly as Madison seized and mastered the moment. She tossed her head back again. She pivoted as if she were standing at the edge of a runway. Then she smiled as three cameras flashed in rapid succession. The cool act worked like a charm. She was representing Hamilton Holdings, Inc., at the gala, so it made perfect sense for her to wow the crowd— especially now, with so many people wondering what the hell was happening.
It was an ugly scene. There were at least fifteen uniformed police officers standing along the corridor, looking grim. Yellow crime-scene tape sealed off the entrance to the coatroom. And a tall middle-agedman with thinning blond hair and a badge around his neck was standing on the threshold scribbling notes onto a pad. He muttered something to one of the cops and then looked up.
Park immediately met his stare and locked her eyes with his. As he came toward her in quick strides, she extended her hand.
The older man seemed taken aback by the gesture. He paused, cracked a nervous smile, and folded his hand in hers. “Detective Charlie Mullen, Homicide,” he said.
“Park Hamilton,” she replied, making certain to keep her tone calm. “Charmed, I'm sure.”
“I know who you are, Ms. Hamilton,” Mullen said.
“Please, call me Park.” She glanced over her shoulder, introducing Lex and Coco. Before the detective could begin asking questions, she said, “This has been a terrible and unfortunate tragedy. We were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That's putting it mildly.” Mullen cleared his throat. “Would you mind calling your sister over here? I need to speak with all of you.”
“Madison,” Park said lightly. “Could you join us, please?”
Turning on her heels, Madison made her way over to them with graceful steps, as though waltzing across the floor. She extended her hand to the older man.
Mullen took it, and his eyes fell inevitably to theshimmering choker. “Those are some rocks you got around your neck,” he said, impressed.
“Thank you.” Madison smiled.
“Are those real emeralds?”
The question—so innocent and yet so painfully offensive—rattled Madison to the core. She couldn't believe someone would actually think she was wearing
costume jewelry.
Fake emeralds? Fake sapphires? The very thought of hastily cut green glass and those ugly blue plastic nuggets made her dizzy. She blinked, speechless, and looked from Park to Lex to Coco. When the silence got tense, she turned back to Detective Mullen and said, with as much strength as she could muster, “Yes. They're real.”
“Amazing,” Mullen whispered. “I don't think I've ever seen emeralds that big this close up.”
Park knew a cue when she heard one. She also knew an impressed fan when she met one. Detective Mullen might have been in his forties, but he was obviously in awe of the company surrounding him. She wondered if he had a daughter her age, or if his wife was one of those tabloid magazine junkies who enjoyed reading about the infamous Hamilton sisters. Whatever the case, it wouldn't hurt to make small talk. “Do you know the legend behind real emeralds, Detective?” she asked him sweetly.
“I don't,” he admitted.
“Well,” Park began, “emeralds are among theearliest gemstones known to man. In ancient times, they were dedicated to the goddess Venus for love, and also because they were believed to improve intelligence. But they were mainly used for love. They say that if you give someone an emerald, she'll be a faithful lover for the rest of her life. They also say that once you own an emerald, you can never lose it.
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