Fleeced

Regan thought that the schnapps was having a little bit of an effect on Edward. “Is there anything you can think of about Ben that might help me? Any of his habits? Anything that might not seem important but really is?”

“Hmmmm,” Edward said. “You know we all went to his house once. It was his birthday, and we surprised him. He was in the bathroom when his cleaning lady let us in. His journal was out on the dining room table. Boy, was he embarrassed. The guys really razzed him about that.”

“He kept a journal?” Regan said.

“At least up until then. That day he’d been writing a poem. It was pretty bad.”

“The cleaning lady was there?” Regan asked.

“She came in on Mondays. Ben said he could spend the rest of the week messing up the place.”

I want to get into his apartment, Regan thought. If he was still writing in that journal up until he died…

“I’m going to put an alert out to other jewelers about these diamonds,” Edward said. “They’re very high quality and will be easy to recognize. Although I bet they’ll be taken overseas to be sold.”

“Thanks.” Regan figured what the hell and drained her glass. When she stood up, her mouth was tingling from the peppermint taste of the schnapps.

“Let me know what happens.” Edward wrote his home number on a business card. “I live out on the Island. I’ll be home all weekend. I’ll have to tell my wife we’re not going to the party.”

“Somehow I don’t think the party’s going to be much fun,” Regan said.

Edward came around from behind his desk. “Regan, you know the only good thing about this whole thing? Nat and Ben would have been lost without each other. Neither one had to hear that the other one died. Can you imagine what it must have been like when they met up in heaven?”

Regan smiled. “It is a comforting thought.”

“I bet there’s some card game going on up there now. Maybe when I die they’ll finally let me play.”

“I’m sure they will,” Regan said.

“Now don’t forget, if you do find those diamonds, I’ll give you the best deal. The check’s already made up. Certified too.”

“I won’t forget,” Regan said. I should be so lucky as to find them, she thought as she walked out the door.

34

When they weren’t traveling, or getting ready for an evening out, Archibald and Vernella Enders always enjoyed a cocktail in their living room at 6:00 P.M. They sat in two armchairs by the bay window, which looked out on Gramercy Park. If it was summertime, they would criticize everyone who walked by. As the days grew shorter, they couldn’t get as good a look at people, so they had to find other things to harp about. Now that it was March they were pleased that, thanks to the equinox, people were once again becoming identifiable in the twilight.

“I made a few phone calls today,” Archibald confided to his bride of fifty-seven years.

Vernella sipped her drink. Long ago she’d taken on the demeanor of someone with a terminal case of excess stomach acid. Frown lines worthy of Mount Rushmore were permanently sculpted into her face. “And?”

“It looks like the Settlers’ Club is in worse shape than we dared hope.”

“How wonderful,” Vernella replied in her almost guttural tone. “That club has gotten on my nerves ever since the sixties, when they let in those hippies who pranced around the park in their flower-power tee shirts. What ever happened to good breeding? Good taste? ‘Pioneering people’ my foot! The Settlers’ Club has been on a crusade to disgrace Gramercy Park for the past thirty years.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, my darling,” Archibald advised. “Down at the bank I was told that the a

“Buy the building?”

“Yes. Cousin Thorn needs a home in New York for his butler school. It would be the perfect spot. Then we, along with dear cousin, will help bring about a return of class to New York City. Thanks to Thorn’s school, good butlers will once again be available. Unfortunately that profession has suffered a sad decline. That needs to be changed.”

“We need a butler ourselves.”

“It’s so hard to keep help. They always leave. But we will have first dibs on Thorn’s graduates and, of course, hire the best one. As you know, Thorn will be arriving late tonight.”

“The guest bedroom is prepared.”

“Tomorrow night we will dine here with Thorn and toast not only the destruction of the Settlers’ Club as their party fails miserably, but also the demise of Maldwin Feckles’s butler school, which is a disgrace to every self-respecting butler.”

Vernella giggled, something she rarely did. “I wish it stayed light longer,” she said. “We could get our binoculars out.”

“You are a devil,” Archibald said as he grabbed her bony hand. “You are the devil I fell in love with.”

“Oh, Archie,” Vernella said coquettishly. “I’m not a devil. I’ve been saying my prayers.”

“And just what have you been praying for?”

“Just that the party tomorrow night over there”-she pointed with disgust at the Settlers’ Club-“is a complete and utter disaster.”

Archibald clapped his hands. “This is going to be such fun.”

35

When Clara got home from her day of scrubbing the Settlers’ Club, she was so darn glad she couldn’t believe it. I’m going to get out of this uniform and put on my robe, she thought as she unlocked the door to her apartment in Queens. It had been some day. Here I was trying to help, and Thomas goes crazy when I show him the red box. She shrugged as she took off her coat.

Maybe I’ll take a bath, she thought, but then remembered Nat’s fate. Probably not a good idea, she decided as she went into the bedroom, undressed, and put on the fleece-lined bathrobe her sister had given her for Christmas.

“That’s better,” she said aloud. She pulled open a drawer and grabbed a pair of her woolly socks. “Now I’ll be all comfy and cozy.”

In the kitchen, she heated up some chow mein and poured herself a glass of wine. She carried a tray into the living room, sat down in her favorite chair, put her feet up on the hassock, and turned on the television with the remote control.

“Thank God it’s the weekend,” she said to the weatherman who was reporting on possible snow showers for the next couple of days. “I don’t care what the weather’s going to be, because I’m just going to veg out.”

She gobbled her chow mein and downed the glass of wine.

The phone rang. It was her sister Hilda who lived in the Bronx. They talked every night.

“What’s doing?” Clara asked.

“Not much. What’s doing with you?”

“A little excitement at the club today. One member was found dead in the tub last night.”

“Oh my.”

“And then some jewelry is missing, but I found the red box it had been in.”

“Oh my. You’d better watch out.”

“My favorite show is coming on.”

“The one about those crimes nobody can figure out?”

Clara smiled. “That’s the one. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okeydoke.”

Clara hung up and eagerly turned up the volume on the remote control. As usual, she watched the program with interest, getting herself another glass of wine during the commercial. By the end of the program, when they made their daily a

“1-800…” she said aloud as she dialed. When she was put through, she a