Chapter 1

The weather was beautiful, sky without clouds, the green-blue sea licking softly the white sand. Slight breeze lowering the temperature to barely bearable, at least to the beach-goers who always crowded Copacabana.

In 1958 Rio was at the apex of its glory and Copacabana was its queen. The moving of the government to the Central Plateau was yet to happen and Tom Jobim and Vinicius didn't write yet the 'Girl from Ipanema'. So Copacabana was it. The Beira-Mar Avenue which separated the beach from the buildings, was narrow at that time, mere two traffic lanes, one in each direction and two large sidewalks for pedestrians. The famous beach itself was one third as large as it is today. The city was smaller and people were happier.

Among taller buildings a few smaller ones, three or four stories high resisted the advance of real estate exploitation. Today, alas, there's not a single gap in the solid front of apartment buildings and hotels. The most famous hotel, The Copacabana Palace, impressive white building, glistering like a jewel in the middle of its large garden hadn't lost yet most of the green area to the avenue.

A mere block away stood a three stories high building. Richly decorated heavy golden doors between large windows were guarded by a black man in tuxedo. The windows displayed a variety of expensive-looking jewelry — from gold bracelets to diamond necklaces — to an impressive array of semi-precious Brazilian stones very much in demand by American tourists. Over the door a tasteful golden encryption informed that this was "A Casa da Garota Dourada" (House of The Golden Maiden) making a semi-circle over an image of a naked golden girl whose long hair covered modestly her breasts and pubis.

This image was associated with exquisite jewelry. Every socialite loved to boast her "Golden Maid" jewels. The image of the nymph on the lock or on the inside of the jewel was the warranty of authenticity.

The owner and manager of the place was Gilberto Amaro, a man in his forties, rich, handsome and charismatic but a bachelor by conviction. Differently from other rich bachelor "cariocas" (inhabitants of Rio de Janeiro) always in the news, he was discreet, didn't flaunt his girl-friends, didn't party till wee hours and never dated celebrities. His life seemed to revolve around his enormously successful jewelry where he had a team of jewel designers and where he lived on the last floor, a penthouse with spectacular view of Guanabara Bay.

A luxurious American car stopped in front of The Golden Maid door. The tuxedo-clad doorman beat the uniformed chauffer to open the door of the rear compartment. From the interior emerged long legs sheathed in tan stockings and 3 inches high black pumps. The hem of the owner's dress gathered at top of her thighs giving the doorman a glimpse of the delightful white skin above the dark bands of the tautly stretched nylons.

The girl alighted from the car and smoothed her simple but elegant black dress over her luscious thighs to cover her legs to a decent just-above-the-knee height. Her dress had a generous square décolletage showing the beginning of delicious breasts which stretched the material in a very enticing way. A long neck supported a face which wasn't as beautiful, as charming. Think of Audrey Hepburn but with a naughty look and pert nose of Leslie Caron. Huge black eyes, long lashes, delicate black brows, red fleshy lips and upturned nose. This girl was probably a spoiled heiress of an indulgent millionaire.

From her long neck hung a pearl necklace with three rows covering her milky bust. The pearls were round and perfectly matched. Each row had pearls of different sizes, the inner row the smallest and the outer row the largest. The pearls were linked by a silver or white gold cordon. A matching bracelet adorned her left hand which was clutching to her side a rather large hard leather purse. Her right hand annular finger sported a large golden engagement ring and on the right middle finger glittered a solitary diamond which would probably paid the doorman's yearly salary, judging by its size.

The beautiful woman spoke over her shoulder in the general direction of the chauffer: "stay here, Jarbas, I will be there but a moment." She glided through the door held open by the tuxedoed doorman. As soon as she was inside a very pretty salesgirl in a uniform designed to entice the men but not antagonize the women intercepted her saying: "my name is Tina, at your service, Madam, what can I do for you?"

Long fingers with perfectly done nails delivered the salesgirl a calling card where was written: 'Helena de Souza — Marchand des Arts' an address and a telephone. "Tina, my fiancée will throw an engagement party and I discovered that I have no necklace to go with this..." She pushed quickly her diamond in Tina's face. "I want something with white gold and diamonds, but not too expensive."

"And if I may ask, how much do you expect to spend, Madam?"

"More or less 30 thousand..."

"I think that we have beautiful necklaces that will match your ring and will be perfectly compatible with your budget, Madam de Souza. Please sit down. Do you accept coffee? Water? Tea and sweets?"

"A coffee with sugar and cream and a glass of water would be nice."

Helena sat on an upholstered red velvet arm-chair in front of a small table which sported a large mirror for the convenience of a client trying a necklace or earrings. There was also a telephone extension on each of the dozen or so similar tables. More than half of them were filled with clients, single or couples. At least ten salesgirls using the same uniform as Tina were hovering around the customers.