Carol Clark - Fleeced

Edward poured some more schnapps for himself as he shook his head and pulled at his sweater. “Ask away.”

“Did you see these guys often?”

“Once every couple of months the whole card group would come up. We’d have a drink in the office and then go out to lunch. It was fun. They called themselves ‘the Suits.’”

“I heard about that.”

Edward nodded. “Nat, Ben, Abe, and Henry. Hearts, clubs, spades and diamonds! Friends for life. I tell ya, I wish I had a close-knit group like that. I have a lot of friends, mind you, but to have a group of four that spent fifty years together… They had a lot of history. They lived through children, grandchildren, divorces, wives’ deaths, occasional bickering. But every week they played cards. After Abe and Henry died this past year, Nat and Ben did a lot of soul-searching. They felt really bad about losing their friends. Neither one of them needed the money from the diamonds, and neither one wanted to spend it alone. The one hundredth anniversary of the club seemed the perfect solution. They figured they’d have more fun donating the money to the Settlers’ Club and telling them what to do with it.” Edward looked truly distressed. “They were so excited about the party tomorrow night.”

“Do you think they talked about the diamonds to other people?”

Edward shook his head. “They said it was their secret. But you know how secrets are.”

“Indeed I do,” Regan said.

“They used to call Ben ‘Big Mouth Ben.’”

“They did?”

“He would sit at the bar at the Settlers’ Club and yap away. There was nothing too trivial for him to talk about. Nat was the quiet type, although he liked to tell jokes. Anyway, he and his wife, Wendy, were very calm and placid. Maybe all those sheep rubbed off on them. You’ve seen the sheep?”

“Oh yes,” Regan said.

“Crazy, huh? Some people get attached to their pets. They got attached to their stuffed animals.”

“Everyone gets attached to something,” Regan said. “Now, I understand all four guys belonged to the club.”

“That’s right. Nat was the only one who lived there. But it was like their fraternity. They broke bread many times together in the dining room. Drink your schnapps.”

“It’s good,” Regan said as she took a small sip. “Did Nat talk about having a girlfriend?”

Edward’s eyes widened. “A girlfriend?”

Regan was evasive. “If he was seeing someone, he might have told her about the diamonds.”

“A girlfriend?” Edward waved his hand. “Nah! He was a little bit of a flirt with the ladies. The waitresses at lunch always loved him. But I don’t think he was seeing anybody. If he was, he sure never told me.”

“This might have been very recent.”

“Oh, I get it!” Edward said. “A girlfriend wouldn’t be too pleased if she heard he was giving away diamonds. After all, diamonds are a girl’s best friend.” He laughed but quickly became serious again. “That’s not appropriate. Nat is dead, after all.”

Regan thought that the schnapps was having a little bit of an effect on Edward. “Is there anything you can think of about Ben that might help me? Any of his habits? Anything that might not seem important but really is?”

“Hmmmm,” Edward said. “You know we all went to his house once. It was his birthday, and we surprised him. He was in the bathroom when his cleaning lady let us in. His journal was out on the dining room table. Boy, was he embarrassed. The guys really razzed him about that.”

“He kept a journal?” Regan said.

“At least up until then. That day he’d been writing a poem. It was pretty bad.”

“The cleaning lady was there?” Regan asked.

“She came in on Mondays. Ben said he could spend the rest of the week messing up the place.”

I want to get into his apartment, Regan thought. If he was still writing in that journal up until he died…

“I’m going to put an alert out to other jewelers about these diamonds,” Edward said. “They’re very high quality and will be easy to recognize. Although I bet they’ll be taken overseas to be sold.”

“Thanks.” Regan figured what the hell and drained her glass. When she stood up, her mouth was tingling from the peppermint taste of the schnapps.

“Let me know what happens.” Edward wrote his home number on a business card. “I live out on the Island. I’ll be home all weekend. I’ll have to tell my wife we’re not going to the party.”

“Somehow I don’t think the party’s going to be much fun,” Regan said.

Edward came around from behind his desk. “Regan, you know the only good thing about this whole thing? Nat and Ben would have been lost without each other. Neither one had to hear that the other one died. Can you imagine what it must have been like when they met up in heaven?”

Regan smiled. “It is a comforting thought.”

“I bet there’s some card game going on up there now. Maybe when I die they’ll finally let me play.”

“I’m sure they will,” Regan said.

“Now don’t forget, if you do find those diamonds, I’ll give you the best deal. The check’s already made up. Certified too.”

“I won’t forget,” Regan said. I should be so lucky as to find them, she thought as she walked out the door.

When they weren’t traveling, or getting ready for an evening out, Archibald and Vernella Enders always enjoyed a cocktail in their living room at 6:00 P.M. They sat in two armchairs by the bay window, which looked out on Gramercy Park. If it was summertime, they would criticize everyone who walked by. As the days grew shorter, they couldn’t get as good a look at people, so they had to find other things to harp about. Now that it was March they were pleased that, thanks to the equinox, people were once again becoming identifiable in the twilight.

“I made a few phone calls today,” Archibald confided to his bride of fifty-seven years.

Vernella sipped her drink. Long ago she’d taken on the demeanor of someone with a terminal case of excess stomach acid. Frown lines worthy of Mount Rushmore were permanently sculpted into her face. “And?”

“It looks like the Settlers’ Club is in worse shape than we dared hope.”

“How wonderful,” Vernella replied in her almost guttural tone. “That club has gotten on my nerves ever since the sixties, when they let in those hippies who pranced around the park in their flower-power tee shirts. What ever happened to good breeding? Good taste? ‘Pioneering people’ my foot! The Settlers’ Club has been on a crusade to disgrace Gramercy Park for the past thirty years.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, my darling,” Archibald advised. “Down at the bank I was told that the anniversary party they’re having is a sorry attempt to recruit new members. But it’s a hopeless situation, and it won’t be long before I can buy the building.”

“Buy the building?”

“Yes. Cousin Thorn needs a home in New York for his butler school. It would be the perfect spot. Then we, along with dear cousin, will help bring about a return of class to New York City. Thanks to Thorn’s school, good butlers will once again be available. Unfortunately that profession has suffered a sad decline. That needs to be changed.”

“We need a butler ourselves.”

“It’s so hard to keep help. They always leave. But we will have first dibs on Thorn’s graduates and, of course, hire the best one. As you know, Thorn will be arriving late tonight.”

“The guest bedroom is prepared.”

“Tomorrow night we will dine here with Thorn and toast not only the destruction of the Settlers’ Club as their party fails miserably, but also the demise of Maldwin Feckles’s butler school, which is a disgrace to every self-respecting butler.”