Carol Clark - Fleeced

Angelo smiled at her. “Lucky you.”

We’re never going to be rich,” Georgette sobbed as she lay in Blaise’s arms in their lumpy bed.

“It’s Regan Reilly’s fault,” he said. “Who would have thought she’d have camped out there?”

“She never mentioned it when we were talking.”

“Well… by the way, don’t give out so much information. You were getting a little too chatty.”

“She liked the perfume you gave me.”

“Don’t wear it again.”

Georgette lifted her head and looked Blaise in the eye. “Why not?”

“Why do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you ever heard of hound dogs at a crime scene?”

“Yeah.”

“They pick up a scent. Think of Regan Reilly as a hound dog.”

Georgette put her head back down. “I won’t use it again until we shove off from here. I wish we could leave now.”

“Well, we can’t. When I heard Reilly talking to the 911 operator about a murder, I realized we’ve got to stay put. If we disappear now, it’d be too suspicious. They’d really come looking for us. And I don’t want to get nailed for something I didn’t do.”

“And I don’t want to go back there tonight for the anniversary party,” Georgette said. “We’ll never get the diamonds. What’s the point?”

“The point is that it ain’t over till it’s over. I’ve got a couple weeks of the butler school left, and then we’re out of here. In the meantime, you sit and think about your boyfriend Nat. Think about where those glass stones might have come from and what he would have done with the diamonds.”

“He loved to play practical jokes.”

“It’s really funny hiding diamonds worth millions.”

Georgette stared up at the ceiling. “Whoever came into the apartment that night and murdered him might know what he did with them.”

Blaise stroked her hair. “But who would that be?”

“I don’t know.” Georgette was suddenly irritated. “You don’t think he was cheating on me, do you?”

When Jack arrived in London, it was just after 7:00 A.M. Which means it’s just after two in New York, he thought. I hope Regan’s asleep. He hadn’t checked any bags, so he zipped through immigration and out to the taxi stand, where a driver was waiting for him.

Forty-five minutes later he was at the front desk of his hotel near Scotland Yard.

“You’re lucky,” the clerk said to him. “Your room is ready. The gentleman who used it last night checked out early this morning. The maid’s already been in there and tidied up.”

“Great,” Jack said. He knew they didn’t have to have the room ready until three o’clock, but he was dying for a shower and wanted to get over to Scotland Yard. He was restless but couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason why. With any luck I can get everything done today and catch a flight back tonight, he thought hopefully.

He refused the offer of a bellman, since he just had a hanging bag, and took the key to his room on the fifth floor. When he reached the room, the maid’s cart was parked right outside the open door.

“Hello,” he said as he walked in.

“Hello, love.” The fiftyish maid popped her head out of the bathroom. She was a cheerful sort.

“I’m sorry. They told me the room was ready.”

“Right. They’re always getting confused, aren’t they? I’ll be out of here in two shakes.”

“Thanks. I have to shower and then get to work.”

“So you’re working on Saturday too?”

Jack smiled as he walked over to the bed and put down his bag. “Yes.”

“It’s a living,” she said. “All right. I’ve finished up. Have a good one.”

“You too,” Jack said, then noticed money and a note on top of the dresser. “Wait,” he called to her as she started out the door. “I think this money must be yours.”

“Thanks, love,” she said as she hurried over to the dresser. When she realized how little was there, she said, “Hardly worth the shoe leather to come and fetch it,” but nonetheless shoved it into her pocket and picked up the note. “Thanks for such great service. It was like having my own butler.” She looked at Jack and rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should become a butler.”

Jack smiled. “I know of a butler school in New York City that just started.”

The maid waved her hand at him. “We’ve got more than enough butler schools over here. Too many in fact. A lot of competition. But it doesn’t matter to me. I’d never last in one of those places. Too formal for me.” She headed back out the door. “Cheerio, love.”

“Cheerio,” Jack said as he unzipped his bag and hurried into the bathroom with his shaving kit.

Tea, Miss Regan?” Maldwin asked as he ushered her into Lydia’s living room, where Daphne, Lydia, and Thomas were enjoying their second cup. It was now three-thirty in the morning.

“Thank you, Maldwin,” she said as she sat down on a love seat next to Daphne.

“Well, what’s going on over there now?” Daphne asked.

“The police are finished. They dusted for fingerprints and secured the apartment. They’re locking the front door with a special padlock. Thomas, we’ve got to get the old locks changed first thing in the morning.”

“Of course, Regan. Do you want to stay in my apartment tonight?”

“Oh I’d offer, but my apartment is a mess,” Daphne jumped in. “Getting ready to do the movie was so hectic. There’s stuff thrown all over…”

“You must stay here!” Lydia insisted. “There’s a maid’s room off the kitchen with a pull-out Castro convertible couch. It’s safe, secure, and all yours.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” Regan said. She’d slept on many a Bernadette Castro special in her day.

“The room is rather small, so I didn’t want Maldwin to have to live in it,” Lydia explained. “But it’s perfect for your purposes.”

Thomas had filled the others in on the break-in at Ben’s. Of course, he had sugar-coated Janey’s little drop-by. “She hates to see things go to waste,” he had explained.

“Regan, with all that’s been happening, maybe we should have more security around here,” Daphne suggested.

“We can’t have armed guards walking the hallways,” Lydia answered. “This is supposed to be a place of refinement.”

“You can’t be refined when you’re dead,” Daphne shot back.

“We can’t afford it, Daphne,” Thomas cried. “Unless a miracle happens and we get those diamonds, or if the cast of Ben-Hur decides to join the Settlers’ Club, I’m afraid we’re in deep, deep trouble. We just may have to close down.”

“My dating service!” Lydia moaned.

“My butler school!” Maldwin choked.

“What about me?” Thomas asked. “This is more than a job to me. It was my dream to bring this club back to life. Make it a vibrant place for gracious living and art appreciation. I even imagined we’d have a five-year waiting list for people to get in!”

“Five years is what it would take for me to find another decent apartment in New York City,” Daphne commented, her voice rising. “I like it here and I want to stay. The Settlers’Club has been my whole life for the past twenty years…”

“Listen, everybody,” Regan interrupted. “There’s no sense in arguing. We all want the same thing. I suggest that we join forces and go all out to try and make it a fabulous party tomorrow night. It’s the club’s one hundredth anniversary. Stanley’s coming with his television camera, right?”