Carol Clark - Fleeced

“Work much lately?” Daphne asked.

Pumpkin gave her a withering look. “I’m always working.”

“I know how hard it is when you get older in this business. Especially for women.”

With each word, Daphne seemed to irritate Pumpkin more and more.

“It was interesting the way you incorporated those sheep into your dialogue. After you tripped over them, I mean.”

“Could you please leave me alone?” Pumpkin asked. “I’m concentrating.”

On what? Daphne wondered. She stood. “I’m going to go down the hall to Thomas’s office. If they need me, tell them to give me a shout down there.”

Pumpkin merely nodded her head.

Daphne found Thomas sitting at his desk, going over the plans for the anniversary party. As usual, he looked agitated.

“How’s the movie going?” he asked.

“I don’t think it’s going to win any Academy Awards.”

Thomas looked pained. “At least it will pay a few bills around here.”

“Can you use any help for the party tomorrow night?” Daphne asked.

Thomas shook his head. “The kitchen has the menu all planned. Hors d’oeuvres. A lavish buffet. Desserts. Janey is making a special cake.” He picked up the phone. “I’m getting a little worried. I haven’t been able to reach her all afternoon.”

“Maybe she’s out delivering.”

“She had no deliveries today. She was just cooking for the party.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. It’s not even five o’clock. Where’s Regan Reilly?”

Thomas put down the phone. “She’s still not picking up,” he said, distractedly, then he looked at Daphne and said, “Regan just left. She was on her way to see the jeweler who was going to buy the diamonds from Nat.”

“So Nat and Ben had contacted someone about selling them. That’s wonderful!”

“Not if we don’t get them back! But at least it proves that they did exist. That I’m not crazy.”

“You know, Thomas,” Daphne began. “I never really approved of the idea of a dating service being run here in the club. All those strangers riding the elevators.”

Thomas shrank in his chair. “Daphne, I allowed that for a number of reasons. For one, I thought that some of the decent people Lydia has in to her parties might end up joining the club. We need new members.”

“I know, I know,” Daphne said. “But that Lydia is so nouveau riche. And that butler of hers, Maldwin, thinks he’s the only one around here with any class. I resent that. It’s probably one of their guests who made off with Nat’s diamonds.”

“Daphne, stop it!” Thomas cried. “Regan is doing her best to try and figure all this out. She asked me to make a list of everyone who lives in the club so she can talk to you all.”

“I didn’t see a thing last night. You should have installed cameras in the elevator and the hallways like we talked about when you started working here.”

“I was trying to save money.”

Just then a production assistant appeared in the doorway. “Miss Doody, we need you now.”

Daphne turned back to Thomas. “Let me know if I can be of any help.”

Your kind of help is not what I need, Thomas thought but politely smiled. When Daphne left the room, he picked up the phone again. He was desperate to talk to Janey. But once again he got her voice mail. I know something’s wrong, he thought. I just know it. If I haven’t reached her by the time Regan gets back, I’m going to ask her to go over to Janey’s apartment with me. With everything that had been going wrong lately, nothing horrible would come as a surprise.

The cocktail party was going strong in the main reception room of the Paisley Hotel. Law-enforcement professionals and the writers who wrote about their line of work were meeting and greeting each other with great merriment. The lectures and seminars had all gone well. People were already talking about the next crime convention and topics that would be of interest.

Luke had joined Nora for the party, and then they were heading out to dinner with friends.

“Have you talked to Regan?” he asked Nora.

“Not since this morning.”

“I was talking with Austin today,” Luke began as he accepted a glass of wine from the bartender. Austin was his right-hand man at the funeral parlors. “I told him about Regan’s new assignment over at the Settlers’ Club. He said he knew someone who went to a singles party there on Valentine’s Day. It turns out that the girl who ran it is the one we heard about last year who lived in Hoboken. Remember the Connolly brothers telling the story about the old woman who no one knew had a lot of money and left it to her neighbor? The woman had been waked at their funeral home and had planned a modest funeral for herself in advance. The Connollys had given her a break on the price, then found out later she had a couple million bucks in the bank!”

“I remember that!” Nora said. “I swear there’s more gossip in the funeral industry than any other!”

“Well, this girl inherited all the money, and the Connollys barely broke even. Now she’s in a penthouse apartment at the Settlers’ Club and is running a dating service. Then when the Connollys had a charity drive, and they solicited a contribution from her, she stiffed them.”

Nora raised her eyebrows. “Well, did whoever went to her gathering have a good time?”

“Immediately after the party he got back together with his wife.”

“Nothing like a happy ending,” Nora said wryly. “Maybe you should let Regan know.”

“I will,” Luke said.

Next to Luke and Nora at the bar was someone very practiced in the art of eavesdropping. The reporter Nora had spoken to earlier in the day had come back, at Nora’s invitation, to the cocktail party. So why didn’t you tell me your daughter was at the Settlers’ Club when I mentioned it earlier? Mary Ruffner wondered as she waited for her drink. Now I have to make it a point to get down there today.

She tapped Nora on the shoulder. “How are you?” she gushed. She turned to Luke. “And you must be Regan Reilly’s father.”

I figured with a name like Gold, I’d better be a jeweler.” Edward Gold laughed as he poured two drinks from the schnapps bottle. They were in a well-lit office above his shop on West Forty-seventh Street.

“But I have a friend named Taylor who can’t sew on a button,” Regan countered, smiling at him as he handed her a glass.

“That’s a good one. Come to think of it, I have a friend named Baker who’d need a compass to find the kitchen.”

They clicked glasses. Regan didn’t really feel like drinking the schnapps, but she figured she’d better show a spirit of camaraderie. It might entice Edward to talk. He looked to be in his mid-sixties, with a shock of pure-white hair, a little slash of a mustache, and big brown eyes that conveyed amusement. He was about five feet nine inches tall and had a thin frame. Regan got the feeling he was always in motion. He had a habit of pulling on the left shoulder of his sweater every few seconds.

“To Nat and Ben,” Edward said seriously. “May they rest in peace.”

I don’t think they’re going to rest in peace until the diamonds are found, Regan thought, but she took a tiny sip of the potent liquid, winced slightly, then cleared her throat. “I didn’t want to tell you on the phone, Edward. But the diamonds are missing.”

His eyes bulged and his face fell. “Missing?”

There goes his commission, Regan thought. “Missing,” she repeated. She told him the whole story. “They might have been stolen with Ben’s wallet. If that’s the case, a pickpocket got very lucky. Or they might have been taken from Nat’s apartment. I thought that if I talked to you, you might have some useful information for me. I just have a few questions…”