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green, and the flowers will start coming up fast now.”
    Finally he came to a stop outside a large pink-colored stone building. As I craned my neck upward, I could see two muscular peachy-colored brick towers reaching for the sky. Windows, balconies, and turrets vied with one another for the best view over the park just opposite. Suddenly the car door opened and a man dressed in livery said, “Welcome to New York City, miss.”
    The doorman led me inside and across a sleek art deco lobby with polished marble floors and dark wood paneling on the walls. We took an elevator to the twenty-second floor, and as soon as I stepped into the corridor, the door opposite opened.
    â€œ Bonjour, mademoiselle ,” said a small, smiling woman in a tweed skirt, with glasses on a chain around her neck. “I am Nicolette, Madame Miriam’s housekeeper. And merci , Sam, for bringing mademoiselle ’s luggage in.” She smiled at the doorman.
    Miriam’s apartment was sumptuous yet welcoming. From the large windows of her dining room and living room, Central Park was neatly delineated, a magical block of green surrounded by a high “fence” of stone and steel skyscrapers. There was a kitchen at the back—along with a couple of rooms for Nicolette, who lived in so that she could look after the place while Miriam was in Paris. Miriam had the large master suite and I had use of her guest bedroom.
    Large Tamara de Lempicka prints hung on the walls. They made a colorful counterpoint to the elegant palette of soft beiges, rich greens, and luminous blues of the walls and fabrics. Mahogany art deco furniture gave the apartment a slick, urban sophistication.
    My room was furnished with light-green silk curtains and thick carpet underfoot. My window looked over Seventy-Fifth Street. To the right, if I craned my neck, I could just see the leafy greenness of Central Park. An old-fashioned marble bathroom adjoined my bedroom.
    After showing me around the kitchen and being assured that I was fine, Nicolette retreated (she had dry-cleaning to pick up for “Madame Miriam”), leaving me in peace. For some minutes I stretched out on my bed and closed my eyes as a deep drowsiness overtook me. (It was nighttime in London and my body knew it.) After a few minutes, I forced myself to look at the time: it was just past 4:00 p.m.
    I’d made arrangements with Ellie, who’d flown into NYC yesterday, to meet downtown for a quick dinner at 6:30 p.m. That gave me a little more than two hours to spend on my own, and tired though I was, this wasn’t the time for a nap. I had a case to solve.
    So, where to start?
    I knew I’d have to wait until the shoot the next day to look into the circumstances of the disappearance properly. But in the meantime, if I had to find the Black Amelia, it might help to know exactly what I was looking for. I’d seen the photo Cazzie had given me, but I’d never seen a black diamond in real life—so that seemed like the most logical place to start.
    And according to my guidebook only one place in the city had a gem collection large enough to include such a stone: the American Museum of Natural History.
    ***
    I slipped out of the apartment building and followed the directions Sam had given me—not that it was complicated. The museum was only a few blocks uptown from Miriam’s.
    Central Park, in all its early-spring green glory, was on my right. Straight ahead, looming into view, was the large, imposing building that housed the finest dinosaur fossil collection in the world, along with tribal art, taxidermy, insects—and gemstones.
    I climbed the stairs to the columned entrance and purchased my ticket. After studying the museum map for a few moments, I turned into the Hall of Biodiversity—but not before stopping to admire the sheer size and awesome stances of the fighting dinosaur skeletons soaring over the visitor entrance. They were amazing!
    The museum