Carol Clark - Fleeced

“For right now, you go to butler class. If you manage to graduate, that’s going to come in handy. You’ll have access to all those grand homes that are just aching to be robbed.”

“I can’t take all the pressure. And I can’t stand any more of Maldwin Feckles’s endless preaching about butlering hints and tips and do’s and don’t’s. ‘A butler should be eager to serve.’ ‘A butler should display good breeding.’” Blaise’s voice rose as he continued. “‘A butler should always greet his employer with the proper respect.’ ‘A butler shouldn’t question any requests.’ I want to yell Shut up!”

“Please, Blaise, you’re giving me a headache.”

“And I hate it when you go on dates with other guys.”

“Don’t get me started,” Georgette protested. “You think I like it, going out with those losers to see if they have anything worth stealing? And if I didn’t accept any dates, Lydia wouldn’t keep on inviting me to her parties. That was the only way I got to sneak over and see Nat. I should have hit him over the head and taken the diamonds the first time I saw them instead of planning to replace them with fakes.”

“Don’t even joke about hitting him over the head. It looks like someone did.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I was there. When I heard the back door open, I nearly died. I ran out of there as fast as I could. And you have the nerve to ask me why I didn’t grab his dead wife’s jewelry.”

“You could be charged with murder.”

“Blaise! Stop it! I didn’t do anything to hurt him.”

“We’ve got to get back in that apartment and look for the diamonds. They must be in there.”

“Well, I can’t go back there until tomorrow night-for the club party. Lydia ’s next soirée isn’t till next week. You take the key. If you can get in there today, do it!” Georgette stood up and put her arms around her lover.

“You smell good,” he said as he buried his face in her neck.

Georgette stroked the back of his neck. “We’ll get those diamonds, you’ll graduate, and then we’ll go on a nice vacation.”

Blaise laughed. “Where I won’t have to polish the silver.”

“No, honey, your job is to steal the silver.”

They embraced, and then Georgette watched as Blaise put on his coat and gloves and headed out the door to butler school.

When he formed his butler school, Maldwin Feckles had decided that field trips would be an important part of his students’ education. There were cigar stores to visit, china shops, designer-clothing showrooms, wine shops, jewelry stores-so many places to go and learn about the finest things money can buy. And of course how to use and care for them properly.

Now Maldwin stood with his first class of four students in a crowded, dark, and dusty antiques shop in rural New Jersey. He had hoped to acquaint them with objects that are found in homes that reeked of old money. He also wanted to pick up a few serving pieces for Lydia ’s future parties. Last night three of her good plates had fallen off the kitchen counter and smashed to smithereens on the floor.

No one had taken the blame, of course, but Maldwin had tried to take it in stride. It had been right after one of the guests came running in to say there was a dead body across the hall.

Maldwin sniffed as he glanced around the shop, which turned out to offer mostly a hodgepodge of other people’s junk. But after careful exploration, with Maldwin picking up objects such as silver trays and odd-shaped forks and pointing out their usefulness, he had managed to find several items for purchase that he would put into service at Miss Lydia ’s apartment. One was a silver soup tureen with a tarnish buildup that must have taken decades, another was a set of espresso spoons that one of his students thought was for babies, and three were stained teapots that would require scrubbing with industrial strength denture cleanser.

They were now being packaged by the clerk, who seemed to think that everything in the shop was some sort of treasure.

“Students,” Maldwin said, pointing to a stack of china dishes. “These should never be stored without a protective pad between each plate. The pad can be made of bubble wrap, if need be, but the plates will scratch each other if they’re not-”

Maldwin’s cell phone rang.

Thank God, Blaise thought.

“I thought you said cell phones were rude,” Vinnie Checkers mumbled. He was clearly the troublemaker student. Maldwin wasn’t sure why he had even signed up for the class. He looked like an extra from Grease.

“They are rude when they disrupt meals, entertainment, or if the cell phone user insists on carrying on his business in a loud voice on trains, buses, and in other public areas.” Maldwin sniffed as he pulled the phone out of his breast pocket. “Otherwise, they are most handy… hello… what?… oh my… another party tonight… we will return to the city at once… it should take a couple of hours.” He hung up the phone as fear seized his stomach and began a slow gnaw.

“What’s the matter, Maldwin?” Albert Ketler asked, his mouth hanging open in a most unbecoming fashion. It had occurred to Maldwin that he had a constantly befuddled look about him. Another one who was only accepted because the school is just getting started, Maldwin thought.

“We are returning to the city. Miss Lydia is having another party this evening.”

“Another party?” Vinnie asked. “I thought we were getting out early today.”

“You knew when you signed up for this course that it would be intensive. And flexibility is an important part of any butler’s life. You have to be ready at a moment’s notice to go with the flow, as they say,” Maldwin said as the clerk came back with the packages.

“We’re getting in some good pieces next week,” he said, peering owlishly through his glasses as he handed Maldwin his credit card and receipt. “Be sure to come back.”

“Serving plates are what I need.” Maldwin handed him his card. “If you get any good ones, let me know.”

“Everybody breaks them.”

“Tell me about it.” Maldwin turned to his assembled group. He raised the walking stick that he always carried on his excursions. “Follow me!” He led them out to the thirty-year-old Vista Cruiser station wagon that Lydia had had since she was a teenager.

“It’s the one part of my old life that I don’t want to give up,” she’d told Maldwin.

Vinnie opened the back door and climbed into the third row of seats, with Albert close behind him. The two had bonded quickly in the first week of class and wanted to sit as far away as possible from the teacher. It had been a late night last night, an early morning this morning, and they were both hungry and tired. And now it would be another late night. They were both hoping for a little nap time in the car.

No such luck.

Little Harriet, the only girl in the group, had jumped in the front seat with Feckles.

“Can we listen to the etiquette tape on the way back?” she asked hopefully.

Vinnie and Albert groaned as Blaise Bowden, the quiet loner, took a seat by himself in the second row.

“Of course we will,” Maldwin said as the station wagon bounced out of the bumpy driveway and past a big WELCOME sign. “But first we will go over all the mistakes you made last night. Vinnie,” he called, “how could you improve your performance of last night?”

“You mean after the party?”

Maldwin winced as Vinnie and Albert chuckled.

“No, I mean in your role as butler.”

Vinnie frowned. “I think I did pretty good last night.”