For once, Rose is right. (Pauses) That hurt to say. I think I pulled a sarcasm muscle.
The real Devereaux ruby was sold by George’s great-uncle in a poker game in 1958. He replaced it with this fake to save face. The fake was then stolen by a jewel thief known as “The Sicilian Squirrel.”
Fast Eddie. You’re under arrest.
(instantly purring): An appraiser? Well, Doctor, you can appraise my etchings any time.
Girls, I have a situation. A romantic, tragic, deeply Southern situation.
I knew it. That necklace is the only thing in this house with a more dubious past than Blanche’s datebook. Act Two: The Living Room. Later.
Miss Devereaux? Interpol. We’ll be taking the necklace.
We call the police, we hand it over, and we pray Blanche’s mugshot doesn’t end up on a billboard for “Miami’s Most Glamorous Fugitives.”
