Carol Clark - Laced

Their modus operandi was always the same. They would attend expensive charity galas using false names, pay for the tickets with a fraudulent credit card, and then disappear like Cinderella after they had made their mark. And also like Cinderella, their appearance would change dramatically after the big ball. Jack and his team had worked hard to find a link between the stolen credit cards but had no luck. Keith continued to read the file.

The people who ran the events always remembered a lovely couple who melted into the crowd and then never took their places at dinner. The woman was variously described as blond, brunette, redheaded, or white-haired, but always around five feet six inches tall and always fashionably dressed. The man had blond hair, brown hair, or gray hair and was five feet ten. Sometimes they wore glasses, sometimes colored contact lenses. Sometimes, it seemed, they padded themselves to look heavier. They were always unfailingly polite. No one who welcomed them to the exclusive soirees would suspect that the couple gushing about how pleased they were to become active in another charity were a couple of brazen criminals.

Hennessy Castle, though quite unlike the other jobs, was their ninth known hit in seven years. Keith re-read the notes in the file. He and Jack both thought the Does were committing other crimes they were not taking credit for. There were so many cases of lost or stolen jewelry that remained unsolved-such as the recent theft at the charity gala held the week before Christmas at the Bridges Hotel in New York City. A woman had discovered her priceless diamond and ruby pin was missing when she and her husband were retrieving their coats at the end of the evening.

“I suppose it could have disappeared during the cocktail party. I just don’t know,” the woman had said, tearfully.

No calling card had been left, but it still may have been the Does’ handiwork. If they were in town for the holidays, they might have wanted to pull off a job to get themselves in the Christmas spirit. They might even have been staying at the Bridges. Security was often lax at some of the exclusive galas held at big hotels. If someone hadn’t bought a ticket for the event, it would be obvious that person didn’t belong there when it came time to be seated for the dinner. But anyone who dressed the part could slip in during the cocktail hour, have a drink and an hors d’oeuvre, and snatch a purse on his way out the door.

One man had made a career out of crashing parties in New York City, had even written a book about it. But he hadn’t been a jewel thief.

Keith picked up the phone and called the Suffern post office. The postmaster, who identified himself as George Hiller, told him that the P.O. box in question had been rented out December 23rd.

“December twenty-third?” Keith repeated, remembering that the gala at the Bridges Hotel had been right before Christmas.

“Yes.”

“A credit card obtained fraudulently by a couple of jewel thieves was sent to that P.O. box in March,” Keith told Hiller.

“Not surprising,” Hiller responded.

“No, unfortunately it’s not.” Keith paused. “You haven’t heard about any jewel thefts up your way, have you?”

“Jewel thefts? No, nothing I can think of offhand, except maybe-”

“Except what?” Keith asked.

“Some jewelry shoplifted from a store near here at Christmas time. But a lot of shoplifting occurs over the holidays.”

“I’d like to hear about it anyway,” Keith said matter-of-factly.

“Okay,” Hiller said. “I’m just thinking back… This box was rented on the twenty-third of December… Wait a minute. The theft happened on that very day! We had a little Christmas party here at the post office after work. Then I drove over to the Nanuet mall to do Christmas shopping. My wife buys most of our gifts, or I should say all, except for what I buy her, and I always wait until the last minute. Every year I say I’m going to change, but I never do. Anyway, among other things I wanted to see if I could find a nice pair of earrings for her at Bam’s, a big department store at the mall. When I got there, the place was a madhouse with people like me running around. And some of the salesclerks at the jewelry counter were upset. Everyone was buzzing about a couple who had sauntered out of the store with an expensive necklace. The security guard almost caught them, but they got away.”

“Stores lose a lot of revenue around the holidays from shoplifting,” Keith said. “They do the best they can to discourage it, but it’s going to happen.”

“I know, but this necklace was worth ten thousand dollars.”

Ten thousand dollars sounded too minor league for people like the Does, Keith thought. But the theft had occurred on the very day they rented a P.O. box in a town nearby. “You say the store is called Bam’s?” he asked.

“Yes, Bam’s. December twenty-third. Definitely.” Hiller chuckled. “When I got home with the packages, my wife was relaxing by the fire, sipping eggnog and watching television. I was wet and cold, and started complaining about the long lines at the stores. She teased me and asked what the big rush was, that I had another entire shopping day before Christmas.”

“That’s when I get my shopping done,” Keith joked. “Listen, thanks so much.” A few minutes later he had Denny Corra, the head of security at Bam’s, on the line.

“A middle-aged couple stole the necklace,” Corra informed him. “I’ll be happy to get out the security tapes. There was nothing special about them. The saleswoman who showed them the necklace was very upset and said she’d understand if the store wanted to fire her. But management insisted she stay. She’s good at what she does. That day she’d been working twelve hours and was caught off guard.”

“When is she working again?” Keith asked. “I’d like to speak to her.”

“Let me check. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

Keith hung up and sat at his desk, deep in thought. Could the Does have bothered with such a small job? When the phone on his desk rang a few minutes later, he quickly grabbed it.

“She’s working from four until ten tonight,” Corra reported. “You can talk to her in my office and go over the tapes. I know she’d love to help in any way she can. Nothing would thrill her more than if those two were locked up.”

And nothing would thrill us more, Keith thought, than if those two were caught and turned out to be Jane and John Doe.

Regan and Jack returned to their rental car on the street outside Gerard’s office.

“I love you, Jack,” Regan said.

Jack smiled. As he was starting the car, he leaned over for a kiss from his bride. “Are you telling me that at this particular moment because-”

“You know exactly why I’m telling you right now. My mother always told me to find someone with a good disposition who will let things roll off his back.”

Jack’s eyes twinkled. “Regan, don’t you think it occurred to me that Gerard might have mentioned our plans to visit Ireland on the air? He’s a radio show host with a lot of time to fill every night.”

“You thought he might have talked about us on the air?” Regan asked incredulously. “I wish you’d said something.”

“Why? You didn’t.” Jack pulled out of their parking space, chuckling, obviously very pleased with himself.

Regan felt a moment of delirious happiness. She remembered what she had told Kit not long after meeting Jack: “He gets me, Kit.”

It was what they both had been looking for-that indefinable bond between two people that had nothing to do with shared interests, compatability ratings, and goals for retirement. Regan smiled to herself. She could just imagine bringing home the very wrong guy to Nora and Luke, someone who had no outwardly redeeming values, and telling them, “But he gets me.”