Аврам Дэвидсон - Ellery Queen’s Double Dozen

Well, all might have been smooth sailing. Lottie could have gone to the Bahamas with Flint, they could have been happy for as long as the money lasted — which is as much as any reasonable person can expect — but things went wrong.

At the end of the first month there was a fire in the kitchen quarters of the jail, and these were directly under Flint’s cell. He woke up one night to find his cell full of smoke, the floorboards like a hot plate, and before he could do anything, a couple of officious guards had come in and rescued him.

Flint was very annoyed with this prompt rescue — he’d been given no time to retrieve his diamonds. The fire was put out smartly, and Flint, for the rest of his time, was lodged in another cell — and never once did he get a chance to go back to his original cell.

Eventually he was released, empty-handed, and he came back to London to discuss his problem with some of the boys at the Minerva Club. And let it be said, here and now — when any member of the Club was in trouble, the others rallied round with advice and help and with only a minimum thought of self-interest.

Well, there were several opinions offered. Solly Badrubal said, “Go back and get pinched again in Brankfold Slug that same fellow — then maybe you’ll be put back in the same cell they first gave you.”

Flint shook his head. “When I left they hadn’t even began to repair it.”

Milky Waye suggested that Flint try and get a job as a guard there. They could easily fake his credentials.

“They’d recognize him by his wooden leg,” said Jim O’Leary.

Horace Head said, “You could bribe one of the warders to get the rocks for you.”

No one took any notice of Horace.

So there was Flint in a curious predicament and the prospect of a bright future slowly tarnishing — until one day Lottie came swaying on stiletto heels into the Ladies’ Annex of the Club, was settled with a large pink gin, and announced to Flint that she had the answer. Ever since leaving Brankfold, she said, she had subscribed to the Brankfold Courier.

“Why?” asked Flint.

“Because we had such a nice time there. I’m sentimental like that.”

“Ah, yes,” said Flint.

“And look at this,” said Lottie. She placed a copy of that week’s Courier in front of him. There on the front page was the story of how the Brankfold jail, so little used, had been declared obsolete by the Prison Commissioners and was to be put up for auction at the end of the month — the whole bloomin’ business, Chief Constable’s house, eight-cell block with kitchen and offices, and an exercise yard that could be converted into a nice garden.

“But I don’t want to buy it,” said Flint.

“You don’t have to, darling. But they must let people look over the property — people who are thinking of buying. You just go down and get an order to view, get into that cell, and pinch back your diamonds.”

Although it was strictly forbidden to indulge in such an act in the Ladies’ Annex, except on guest nights, Flint took Lottie in his arms, upset her pink gin, and gave her a resounding kiss.

The next day Flint was off to Brankfold with Solly Badrubal, Jim O’Leary, Horace Head, and Lottie. Flint had no intention of going into the prison himself — some of the staff were still there and might recognize him — and there was still a hullabaloo going on about the original theft of the diamonds. No, Flint was much too clever for that.

They all stayed at the Royal Hotel and Solly tried his hand first. He got an order to view from the auctioneers.

When he came back he shook his head. “No luck, Flint. A young man came with me from the auctioneers. Couldn’t shake him off — and he wasn’t very keen even about me going into the cell. The floor’s still unsafe.”

The next day Jim O’Leary tried. But it was the same story. The auctioneer’s young man had stuck to him like a leech and just couldn’t be shaken off.

The next day, without much hope, they tried Horace. Horace came back beaming. “You know, it would make a nice place, that prison. Good garden. Nice young man from the auctioneer’s told me it’ll go for about ten thousand. A snip.”

“What about my diamonds?”

“Oh, them. Well, I didn’t fancy that floor. Even if I did — the young chap wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Damn the fellow,” said Flint. Then he turned to Lottie, desperation stimulating an idea in him. Although Flint — out of chivalrous respect — never involved any of his perfect women in his professional schemes, this seemed a very special case. He said, “You must try, darling. You go over the place and when you get to that cell, you faint — calling out for water. He’ll dash off and leave you alone for a minute or two — and that’s all you need.”

“What — faint on a floor that’s unsafe?”

“Don’t be silly. Faint in the doorway. Anyway the floor will hold you.”

Lottie hesitated for a moment, then she said, “All right, darling. It seems the only way left — and it means so much to us both.”

“It means twenty thousand knicker,” said Solly. “For that I’d go into a coma for a month.”

So Lottie went off the next day and did her stuff. She came back, upset, with a patch of burnt wood ash on her neat little rump, and said angrily, “It didn’t work. I fainted, calling for water — and what do you think that fool of a young man did? He caught me up in his arms, pulled a brandy flask from his pocket, and damned near choked me. And when I said I wanted water, he carried me down into the kitchen. I couldn’t shake him off. I’ve had enough of this diamond hunt, Flint. I’m going back to London and you can call me when you’ve got the diamonds.”

And she left in a huff. Flint wasn’t going to have his perfect woman unless he cracked his problem — and soon. Flint was a little upset but he saw her logic: you can’t expect a perfect woman to hang around forever, waiting for a payday that never comes.

However, that evening in his bedroom the four of them got down to it over a bottle of whiskey, and with the help of a telephone call to Milky Waye the problem was solved. They would go to the auction and buy the prison. Flint had £5,000 — the rest, if necessary, could be raised after the sale on a mortgage. Once the prison was his he could get the diamonds — the others taking a small cut for their help — and then Flint could resell the prison, maybe at a profit. It was Milky’s idea. Milky said that he would come down and bid for Flint at the auction. Which he did.

The auction was held outside in the exercise yard of the prison and there were a lot of people there. As Flint said, “Who the hell wants to buy a prison? They must be mad.”

Only Horace answered. “You could make a nice place of it — nice garden—”

“Shut up,” said Jim O’Leary. “It gives me the creeps just being in this yard. Think of all the poor souls who’ve slogged around here, longing for a butt to smoke.”

The bidding was brisk and went quickly up to £7,000. There it lagged a bit, then got its second wind, and finally, Milky Waye had it knocked down to him at £11,000.

As the crowd dispersed, the auctioneer said to Milky Waye, “If your principal will just sign these papers... and give me his check for the deposit... Thank you. Here are the keys — we’ll get the deeds and all that settled later. There may be a little delay because I’m short-handed at the moment — staff trouble, you know. Wonderful little property — full of possibilities...”

“Oh, full...” said Milky.

Then the five of them stood about, waiting for the crowd to go, the bunch of cell keys in Flint’s hands. When the last person had left, Flint stumped off toward the top cells with the others following him. He unlocked the door and held the rest back.