Skip to main content

David Davies

“What about this American, this amateur art collector, a Mr. Leyland I believe, who contacted Monsieur Rossi? Should we not contact him as well?” was my question to Peridot as we left the outdoor cafe headed for our rendezvous. 

“My hunch is,” said Peridot, “tonight's dinner will enlighten our situation enormously.”

I simply could not imagine how crystal clear all the events that brought us to Florence would soon become. With the Arno River on our left our early evening stroll took us past the Ponte Vecchio Bridge. We then turned north and followed the narrow cobblestones to a central round about with the Column of Justice (La statue de la justice) in its center. As our destination approached, I caught Peridots glance. He appeared to recognize a man sitting at a small table, just outside the cafe, curiously looking at his phone.

Peridot walked directly over to the man, cleared his throat, to get his attention, and held out his hand, “Well Mr. Davies, how have you been. It seems we’ve just missed each other quite a few times in the past few weeks. Adamas Bontemps, meet David (Dee) Davies.” An astute observer would have seen my pupils dilate, I said nothing, just held out my hand with what must have been a bewildered look on my face. His appearance was exactly as described medium height, strong build, a somewhat ruddy clean shaven face. He was dressed in a well worn tweed suit.

Davies immediately spoke in his distinctive Welsh accent, “Peridot, my scholarly cousin, how have you been?”

What is this! My cousin? I was about to learn the full story behind the Sapphire Mystery and this adversary we had so genuinely pursued.

“It seems you’ve been up to some mischief,” Peridot remarked.

“Mischief, not at all, my cousin! We call it doing business.”

“You’re in the business of fooling clients into purchasing a ruse?

“If they so desire,” said Davies. “You would be aghast at the number of people who insist on these dazzling gemstones, but when cash crosses the counter, so to speak, they're  always flabbergasted at the price. So, my forte is assembled stones that look just like the originals. There is no deception intended, I present the goods with full disclosure. Many clients don’t really know or care. People want the status and prestige of owning beautiful things and my doublets fulfill that desire. They are masterpieces. Take this one for example.” He pulled from his pocket a parcel paper, skillfully opened it, to reveal a beautiful Sapphire. Exactly like the one we had seen in India and now Florence. 

“We have many of these,” he said, “they are our most popular piece. Have you noticed the attention to detail? These specimens contain a thin piece of natural corundum with, unaltered low-relief mineral crystals. Some have intact two-phase inclusions, straight, angular, hexagonal growth zoning. The finest Synthetic Sapphire Doublets ever crafted.”

We were now seated with Davies, staring at La statue de la justice, I could not hold back my burning question. “What about the Ceylon Sapphire from the Boutique in Paris?”

Davies confidently looked at me and simply said, “That was a sensationalized blog post by a hacker in one of those online gemstone forums. You surely don’t believe what you read in those forums do you? Ambiguous news of that sort is but a mere flyspeck on the window of the world to the media. Very few pay any attention. It’s all a bunch of swill.”

With a lowering of his brow, and the focus of his eyes, I could see the wheels of Peridots mind turning with a calm disposition, Peridot interrupted. “Your trip to India? The lab reports? You were hired to personally deliver the stone, obtain a report, then return it to the boutique’s owner? And why the fake report?”

“Precisely, my scholarly cousin. During that trip a young client of mine wanted to obtain a replica of that very stone. He paused a moment and smiled, “we just seemed to miss one another that day, didn’t we. Ah - the report, yes, customers in todays market insist on some kind of official documentation. I’m sure you noticed all the stones properties were accounted for on that document. Why spoil it with nasty comments about being assembled, it is a masterpiece in craftsmanship.” 

“Why then, the donation to the Uffizi?” I asked?

“Let me explain it this way,” Davies said. “You’re familiar with the Black Prince Ruby in the Tower of London, I’m sure. For years no one suspected (or cared) it was anything other than a fine Ruby until some meddling do-gooder tested the stone to discover it was a Red Spinel. My question is this, what changed after it was determined to be a Spinel? Did its intrinsic value change? Did they remove it from the Imperial State Crown? Did the first born heir, Edward, the Black Prince, who brought the stone back to England in the late 14th century have his name stricken from the Royal lineage? No nothing changed. It’s still on display in the Crown Jewel Collection and proudly worn on special occasions.”

We heard a faint beep, Davies quickly glanced at his phone then continued, “As a gemstone expert, you realize that sizable natural Ceylon Sapphires are quite scarce. Much like thin slices of Black Opals are preserved in triplets, we are able to preserve thin sections of natural Sapphire and make them salable by preserving them as Sapphire Synthetic Sapphire Doublets. It is known in some circles that the Uffizi has a gem collection, The Opificio delle Pietre Dure, officially founded in 1588 by Ferdinando I de’ Medici. The Museum is dedicated to the traditional art of the Florentine mosaic in semi-precious stones. My donation to that collection will preserve our crafted stone for all time.”

Peridot glanced at his watch. “I believe we are scheduled to meet Mr. Richard Leyland for dinner.”

“As am I,” said Davies. “Some confusion about a Peridot I believe?

We entered the dining establishment and the mai·tre d' graciously escorted the three of us to a table where two men stood to greet us as we approached. . .

. . . to be continued.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

Confidently Wrong: The Art of the AI Tall Tale

In this episode, A chat with Adamas the Chef on hidden recipes causing digital hallucinations. Pull up a chair and pour yourself a fresh cup of coffee—and please, for your own sake, taste it first. We need to have a quiet chat about why your computer sometimes decides to reinvent reality with the confidence of a five-star chef who has clearly lost his mind. In the world of technology, we call it a  hallucination . It sounds pretty dramatic, doesn’t it? As if the computer decided to ignore your instructions altogether in favor of a vivid, technicolor imagination that simply hasn’t met reality yet. But in truth, an AI hallucination isn’t a breakdown; it’s just a very confident, very polite mistake. Think of it like our friend Adamas , the Chef. Adamas is a master of the kitchen, but he is also a bit of a romantic who refuses to say “I don’t know.” When you ask him for a classic recipe he hasn’t made in years, he doesn’t stop to consult a cookbook—that’s far too pedestrian. Instead, ...

Ode To Gemology

For over 80 years, students of gemology have struggled with spectrums, bewildered by birefringence, and simply plagued by pleochroism. The following sonnet is guaranteed to bring a smile to your face, a glow to your heart, and a simple reminder that students of life and gemology rediscover nature's gifts every day.  Ode to Gemology , by a GIA on-campus student. Dispersion, fire, adventurescence. Orient, sheen, or iridescence. Refractive index, high or low. The luster should indicate that, you know. Polarization, double or single. What to do now, they intermingle. Pleochroic colors you really should see. Was that only two, or actually three? Birefringence should help you a lot. Use your polarizer and watch the spot. Now, did it jump most on low or high? Sure, you can get it if you really try! Your liquids should be an aid, I think. Does it float, suspend, or slowly sink? Just use your imagination now. (He doesn't see me wiping my brow.) Solid inclusions or only bubbles? Huh, th...

The Cowardice of Corporate Jargon

Picture this: an email lands in your inbox. A colleague—maybe even a friend—needs a favor, a second set of eyes, a moment of your time. You sigh, stare at the glow of your monitor, and type: “I’d love to help, but I just don’t have the bandwidth right now.” Hit send. Problem solved. Conscience clear. Except it shouldn’t be. Most of us have said or sent that line at least once, hoping it would land gently. On the surface, it’s perfect—efficient, polite, even self-aware. And that’s exactly the problem. It lets you decline without ever quite telling the truth. You didn’t just say no; you softened the discomfort of being human until it barely felt like a feeling at all. Instead of admitting, I’m overwhelmed , or I don’t have the energy , you reach for the sterile vocabulary of a server room. You turn a feeling into a metric. A boundary into a system limitation. Apologies, my data transfer rate is capped. Please submit a ticket to my emotional help desk. It’s a clever little trick—and an un...

Tuck, Roll, and Rain

In this episode, the interactive obstacle course of the San Marcos bike path. (Sunday, April 12, 2026) It started out as a beautiful day for a ride—our usual 30-mile Sunday trek to Escondido. The weather was moody, with brooding dark clouds threatening rain, but the streets were mostly empty. The traffic was light, and the bike paths were eerily quiet. It gave off the distinct, yet entirely false, illusion of a peaceful sanctuary. We were headed home, and I had settled into a smooth, hypnotic cadence on the path across from Palomar College in San Marcos. I was listening to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field, minding my own business, and dressed to be seen. Between my colorful jersey and my cherry-red vest, I was illuminated like a human traffic cone. You could spot me from low Earth orbit. Apparently, that wasn't visible enough. Up ahead, I spotted another cyclist. He was cruising along in a state of pure, unhelmeted zen—completely unburdened by the earthly concepts of peripheral vision ...