Carol Clark - Fleeced

“Of course,” Clara said with a bright smile. “Come this way. I used to clean Mr. Pemrod’s apartment every week. What a nice man. It’s a shame he’s passed over.”

Regan nodded. “Thomas, just relax here for a minute.”

“Regan,” he said quickly. “I’m having a panic attack. I think I’d be more comfortable in my office. Would you meet me there when you’re finished”

Thomas, don’t lose it, Regan thought. She felt a sudden rush of affection for him. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Of course. Go ahead,” she said. “I’m sure Clara will be very helpful.”

Clara beamed. “You know, being somebody’s maid means you get to know a lot about a person. Have I taken care of some slobs in my day. But Nat, he was pretty good. Ya know, sometimes he…”

“Hold that thought,” Regan said as she escorted Thomas to the door. “See you in a few minutes.” She took the red box from his hands and turned back to Clara who was clearly enjoying the drama.

“You were saying…?” Regan prodded.

“Oh, yeah, I had one couple. Always left a mess. Disgusting-”

“I mean about Nat,” Regan interrupted as gently as she could.

“Oh, yeah, Nat.” Clara raised both her hands and looked up to the ceiling as though she’d find some insight there. “So sad after his wife died. She had a thing for all these crazy sheep.” Clara started walking down the hallway toward the master bedroom. At the doorway she stood aside to allow Regan to step in front of her. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Regan noticed the dressing table that Thomas had mentioned, with all of Wendy’s toiletries still there. “Oh, and there is the bathroom,” she said, inching closer. Regan took a deep breath. In the absolute quiet, her senses were heightened, alert to catch every detail of this scene of death.

“I have the worst time keeping that marble clean,” Clara said plaintively. “I’ve tried all sorts of cleaners. But none of them was that great…”

It’s funny what people feel the need to talk about at times like this, Regan thought. But I know she means well. “That’s a big Jacuzzi to scrub,” she said in sympathy.

“Yeah,” Clara said. “But I’ve hardly had to touch it since Wendy died.”

“How come?” Regan asked.

“Because Nat hated baths. He only took showers.”

Thomas, now try to think happy thoughts.”

Thomas’s girlfriend, Janey, clad as ever in a cardigan sweater, straight skirt, sensible shoes, her outfit pulled together by her most cherished possession, a single strand of pearls, was doing her best to comfort her agitated boyfriend. They were in his office. She was standing behind him, massaging his temples.

“How could everything have gone wrong so fast?” he asked, his voice quivering. “We had so many plans for the club. Tea dances, brunches, ballroom dances, lectures, culture…”

“It’s not all over. And the brunch you had last Sunday was very successful,” Janey said as her fingers now disappeared into Thomas’s bushy hair and kneaded his scalp.

“Not really,” he whined. “When that group of college kids left, I heard one of them say he’d seen younger faces on cash.”

Janey shook her head from side to side. “We shouldn’t have invited kids on spring break. A gracious brunch is not what they were looking for. But everyone else enjoyed it.”

“The only two who didn’t complain about the food were Nat and Ben, and now they’re both dead.”

Janey sighed. “They were the two nicest people in the club.”

Thomas reached up and took Janey’s hands in his. “How do you think that red box ended up in my wastebasket?”

Janey came around and sat, very ladylike, on the edge of Thomas’s desk. “Someone threw it there,” she said with steely resolve. “Someone who was on these premises yesterday and stole the diamonds.”

“But who?” Thomas cried.

A knock on the door caused them both to jump.

“Yes, come in,” Thomas called as he sat up straight.

When the door opened, he saw that it was Regan Reilly.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, no,” Thomas insisted. “Regan, this is my girlfriend, Janey.”

“Hello, Janey.” Regan extended her hand.

“Hello.” Janey’s response was meek.

“Thomas, we have a lot of things to discuss,” Regan said.

Janey glanced down at her watch. “I’d better run.”

“You can stay,” Thomas said in an almost pleading tone.

“No, sweetness, I’ve got to get to work.” Janey grabbed her beige coat off the chair. It seemed to Regan that everything about her was beige. “I’ll see you both later.”

“She’s very nice,” Regan remarked when she and Thomas were alone.

“She is simply wonderful. The most wonderful woman that ever lived,” Thomas insisted.

How do you know? Regan thought, but asked, “Where does she work?”

“At home. She has a business cooking meals for people too busy to cook for themselves. People order up to a week’s worth of meals and then store them in the freezer. She’s so wonderful, she gives a discount to the elderly. And on top of that, she’s the biggest good-deed doer I’ve ever met.”

“That’s wonderful,” Regan found herself saying, thinking of a girl who lived down the hall from her in college who was always going around collecting money for some good cause or other. Regan spotted her years later at an airport with a shaved head, a fixed grin, and the same tin cup ready for donations. But Regan had to hand it to her. She was committed. Janey seemed like the same type.

“Regan!” Thomas suddenly blurted. “I have nothing to do with that red box being in my garbage.”

“I believe you,” Regan said simply. “But it makes it pretty clear that someone took those diamonds. I think the whole thing was well planned. Including Nat’s death.” She filled him in on what the maid had told her.

Thomas cocked his head. “I can’t imagine someone not liking baths.”

Inwardly, Regan groaned. “But if he didn’t, whatever the reason, it makes his death much more suspect. And it makes me question whether Ben had a heart attack because someone actually pushed him in front of that bus.”

“A murder in the club! It’s never happened before.”

“And I want to do my part in making sure it doesn’t happen again, Thomas. I have to talk to the woman across the hall who had the party.”

“The Princess of Love.”

“Whatever.”

“Right away.” Thomas picked up the phone and a few minutes later they were knocking on her door.

“Are you a quality single?” Lydia inquired with a big smile when Thomas introduced them.

“It depends on who you ask,” Regan answered.

Lydia laughed as though that was the funniest thing she had ever heard. Regan smiled in spite of herself. People who laugh at your jokes certainly do gain extra points, she thought.

“Well, come in,” Lydia said, stretching out her expensively bangled arm. With her jewelry and makeup and sexy lounging outfit, she looked as though she were about to pose for the cover of a romance novel.

Makes sense, Regan thought. She dresses for the job.

Thomas turned to Regan. “Your bags are still out by the front desk. I’ll bring them upstairs. Here’s the key to the apartment.”

Regan looked at her watch. “After I talk to Lydia, I’ll go in and call Nat’s brother.”

“I’ll be in my office,” Thomas said, and like a shot, he was gone.

Regan followed Lydia inside. The apartment was architecturally a mirror image of Nat’s, but the resemblance ended there. The living room contained six pastel love seats. No couches. No chairs. Just love seats. Pale pink carpeting covered the floor, and large murals of blooming floral arrangements brightened the walls.