Carol Clark - Fleeced

Clara rolled her eyes and said to Stanley, “Who are we going to get to build a platform?”

“I turned a gas station into a home. I can do it.”

“Thomas,” Janey said, “I’m going to run to my apartment and get the cakes and pies.”

“If Mrs. Buckland calls, please don’t answer the phone,” Thomas called after her.

Janey laughed and bounced out of the room, the sheep’s eyes jiggling in her coat pocket.

“Thomas,” Stanley said, “I know just how to build that platform.”

“Do you want some help from any of the butlers?” Thomas asked.

“No, I’ll help,” Clara declared. “This will be fun.”

At quarter to seven, the Settlers’ Club was ready for what could be its swan song. Dolly and Bah-Bah were on a gaily decorated platform in the club’s window, the grand anniversary cake with all its tiers and ribbons and sprinkles rising proudly between them. The waiters were in the kitchen putting the final touches on trays of hors d’oeuvres. Maldwin was going over certain rules of etiquette with his students who were standing around in their formal dress, holding silver trays that would soon be filled with drinks. Classical music played on the stereo system, fake fires licked at fake logs in the fireplaces, and Clara, wearing her short-sleeved floral dress and nice-but-sensible shoes, was on a ladder, fluffing the sheep’s coats with a pick comb.

“Nat would be so proud of you,” she said to them.

“Here, let me help.”

Clara turned her head and looked down. It was Blaise, one of Maldwin’s students. “Thank you, but no,” she said firmly.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Don’t I look sure? Besides, there’s nothing left to do.” She turned her back on him. It was dark outside, and she could see people stopping in front of the window to look at the sheep. Clara waved at them. “Hiiiii.”

Down the block, Janey came scurrying with shopping bags full of desserts. She had already made one trip back to the club to assemble the pieces of the anniversary cake. By the time she got home and showered and changed, time had slipped away. Now she hurried into the Settlers’ Club, up the steps and round the bend into the parlor.

“Clara!” she cried. “The sheep look great up there. I have two of their eyes that fell out! I forgot to put them back in.”

Clara had just come down the ladder.

“Let me stick them back in!” Blaise offered.

“Why don’t you help her with her bags?” Maldwin demanded.

Janey reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the two stones that had been retrieved from the floor of Jacques Harlow’s loft. “I’d like to do it,” she said as she handed the shopping bags to Blaise. “Here are the rest of the cakes and pies and cookies. Take them back to the kitchen, please.”

Blaise trembled at the sight of the diamonds in Janey’s hand. She darted over to the ladder and climbed up the steps. “Where’s Thomas?” she asked Clara.

“Here I am, darling,” Thomas announced from the doorway. “Let me help you with that.”

“No, I’ll do it myself. Dolly and Bah-Bah each lost an eye when they were away from home.” Janey looked at the sheep. “But we found them, didn’t we?” She reached over and stuck one of the stones in Dolly’s left eye socket and the other in Bah-Bah’s right eye socket. “Much better now!”

“Everything looks just perfect!” Clara declared. “Now we’re ready to party.”

Archibald was standing at the window across the street, binoculars in hand. “My God!” he cried. “The place is turning into a zoo!”

“What do you mean, dear?” Vernella said, emerging from the dressing room in a long gown and pearls.

Thorn came down the steps from his bedroom in a velvet smoking jacket. “What’s this I hear?”

“They are pathetic! They have sheep in the window.”

“Like a butcher shop!” Thorn said as he lit his pipe.

“I didn’t think it could get much worse. But this time they’ve outdone themselves,” Archibald said. “When I think of this park when I was a child. And to see it turn into a circus…”

Vernella put her arm around her husband’s waist. “Don’t worry, my dear. We’ll change it back. When you buy the Settlers’ Club, we’ll be the King and Queen of Gramercy Park.”

Archibald smiled slightly. “I suppose. And what will you be, Thorn?”

A little dribble formed in the corner of Thorn’s mouth as he chewed on his pipe. I’ll be the God of fire, he thought. “Oh, I suppose I’ll just be a visiting prince.”

Archibald laughed. “Not you, Thorn. You’re much better suited to being a dictator. Now let’s break out the champagne.”

By seven-thirty the Settlers’ Club was packed. Lydia’s singles, club members, prospective club members, and Nora’s group from the crime convention were all mingling and enjoying themselves. There were even adventurous types who had bought last-minute tickets to the party after reading about the festivities in the newspaper.

On the surface it looked like a successful party at a lovely club. But was it? Stanley was catching all the fun with his video camera, while the reporter who’d broken the scandalous story in the New York World hadn’t dared to show up.

Regan was circulating, keeping an eye out for Georgette. So far there had been no sign of her. Clara was sipping a vodka martini. Thomas and Janey were doing their best to act as hosts. Lydia was chatting with a group in the corner, no doubt trying to recruit them for her own soirées. Maldwin watched over his butlers as they made sure everyone had a drink and was well taken care of. Daphne had not been seen at all. She had been so upset with Thomas about the sheep and her lost opportunity in Jacques Harlow’s movies that Regan felt a little sorry for her.

Now if only Jack would get here, Regan thought as she joined the group around her mother and father.

“Those sheep are so interesting,” Nora said. “I like them.”

“So did the movie director who didn’t want to give them back. I guess they’re much more valuable than one might think at first glance.”

“Their eyes do have a certain sparkle,” Nora said.

Regan looked over and noticed a dark-haired woman hanging around by the sheep and occasionally staring up at them. Something about her seemed familiar, but Regan was sure she hadn’t been at the singles party.

“Oh, here’s Kyle Fleming,” Nora said as she spotted Kyle coming through the door. “Regan, you should meet him. He gave the best lecture on con artists.”

“I’d love to,” Regan said.

Thomas was scheduled to give a toast right before they started the buffet line at eight. He went into his office to get out his notes. He’d worked hard on his little speech. If they were ever going to rustle up any new members for the club, now was the time to motivate them.

Thomas shut the door, walked over to his desk, and sat down. When he looked up, Daphne was leaning against the opposite wall, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Daphne!”

“Can you come out back with me?” she asked, her voice cracking. “I need some air. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

“Of course!”

“Where’s Thomas?” Janey asked Regan.

“I haven’t seen him.”

“He’s not in his office and he’s supposed to give a toast.”

“Excuse me!”