Fleeced: A Regan Reilly Mystery (16 page)

When a thud sounded from Nat’s living room, Regan awoke with a start. Her heart began beating rapidly. What was that? she wondered as she sat up and listened. Everything was still. The illuminated clock next to the bed read 2:11.

Regan slipped out of bed, grabbed her robe, slowly walked to the closed door, and cocked her head. She could hear the floorboards creaking. Oh my God, she thought. There’s someone out there! Then the sound of muffled whispers made her realize that there was more than one person.

Regan’s heart was pounding in her chest. Two people at least, and I don’t have anything to protect myself with, she thought. And last night someone was murdered in this apartment. I can’t go out there. Who knows what I’ll find? She reached over to lock the bedroom door. But her fingers met with a smooth surface. There was no lock. Oh my God. I’ve got to get help. I’ve got to get help or I could end up like Nat.

She crept back to the bed, where she had her cell phone plugged in to the wall. Grabbing it with shaky hands, she dialed 911. “I’m at the Settlers’ Club in Gramercy Park,” she whispered. “There are intruders in the apartment. There was a burglary here last night.”

“What is the address?” the operator asked matter-of-factly, as if she were taking an order for the local deli.

“It’s on the park in Gramercy Park. Twenty-first Street.”

“You don’t have the exact address?”

“No. There may have been a murder here last night…” As Regan said the last five words, the bedroom door opened. There was a gasp, the door slammed, and Regan heard feet running down the hall.

“Please-the Settlers’ Club-look it up,” Regan pleaded. She dropped the phone and ran out into the hall. She heard the back door shut and raced toward the kitchen. By now her heart was in her mouth. If I can only get a glimpse of them, she thought as she ran through the darkness. In the kitchen, she flicked on the light, then yanked open the door. There was no sign of anyone, but she could hear footsteps descending the back stairway.

Running back into the kitchen and down the hallway, Regan picked up the house phone. A sleepy-sounding voice answered.

“Hello.”

“This is Regan Reilly. I’m staying in Nat Pemrod’s apartment. It was just broken into, but the intruders got scared off. They’re running down the steps by the service elevator.”

“Oh my goodness.”

“Well, do something!” Regan cried.

“They must have gone out the back door.”

“The back door?” Regan said in disgust.

“It’s only used for emergencies.”

Regan shook her head. “I guess this qualifies. The police should be here in a few minutes.”

“I’ll send them up, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Regan hung up the phone and went around turning on lights. The living room had been ransacked. I must have been sleeping the sleep of the dead, she thought.

Books and pictures were all over the floor, and Nat’s desk was torn apart. I guess my room was next. She shuddered. What if I hadn’t woken up until it was too late? If I’d have gotten away with only a Mace attack like Janey, I would have been lucky.

I’d better let Thomas know. She went back to the house phone and called downstairs.

“Could you please call Thomas for me?” Regan asked.

“I already did. I was just about to ring you. The police are on their way up.”

Thomas was getting off the elevator as Regan opened the door. He had on a crisp linen robe and leather slippers that certainly suggested gracious living. The police were right behind him, their radios squawking.

“Regan!” Thomas cried as he entered Nat’s apartment, and for the second time in less than six hours, hugged someone involved in a crime scene.

“It could have been a lot worse,” Regan assured him. “But I don’t think they expected to find me in the guest room.”

The two cops introduced themselves to Regan. “We were here last night,” Officer Angelo said. He turned to Thomas. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better, thank you,” Thomas said as he and Regan followed them into the living room. “I appreciate your asking.”

“They ran out the back door.” Regan explained to the officers what had happened.

“No sign of forced entry?” Officer Angelo asked.

“None that I see,” Regan answered.

“Just like last night.”

“What happened?” Lydia cried, rushing across the hall with Maldwin right behind. They were both clad in their pj’s and robes. Lydia’s getup, of course, was worthy of a Las Vegas lounge act.

“Miss Lydia woke me when she heard noises in the hallway,” Maldwin volunteered.

“Hellooooo.” It was now Daphne’s turn to make an entrance. “I just got back from my movie shoot and heard at the front desk that there was some excitement up here.” She looked at the mess all over the living room. “When will it end?”

And she doesn’t even know what happened at Ben’s, Regan thought.

Since Daphne’s question was rhetorical, no one answered. But Maldwin felt the need to say something.

“Perhaps I should prepare some tea for all of us.”

“Not in here,” one of the cops advised. “This is a crime scene.”

“I had no intention of preparing it here, sir,” Maldwin replied stiffly. “My kitchen and special teapots are across the hall.”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Lydia said. “Do you need any help?”

“Not at all,” Maldwin said. “Whenever you’re ready, come over.”

The sight of him, bowing in his robe before he exited, almost made Regan laugh.

“Did you bring the sheep back?” Thomas brusquely asked Daphne.

“You’ll never guess…” Daphne began.

“I guess that means no.”

“My acting career has just received a renewed blast.”

“Is Bah-Bah your new agent?” Thomas inquired.

“I resent that. But the sheep are starring in the movie too. We have more scenes to film tomorrow, so the sheep are spending the night at the director’s apartment.”

“I want them back for the party,” Thomas warned.

“They’ll be back.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Why don’t you all go across the hall?” Regan suggested. “I’ll be there soon. I want to talk to these officers for a few minutes.”

“I could use a cup of tea,” Daphne said.

After the group exited, Officer Angelo turned to Regan. “Whoever did this is pretty determined. I don’t think you should stay in here tonight.”

“I don’t want to.”

“What will you do?”

“I’m sure one of them has a room I can crash in,” Regan said as she pointed across the hall.

Angelo smiled at her. “Lucky you.”

We’re never going to be rich,” Georgette sobbed as she lay in Blaise’s arms in their lumpy bed.

“It’s Regan Reilly’s fault,” he said. “Who would have thought she’d have camped out there?”

“She never mentioned it when we were talking.”

“Well… by the way, don’t give out so much information. You were getting a little too chatty.”

“She liked the perfume you gave me.”

“Don’t wear it again.”

Georgette lifted her head and looked Blaise in the eye. “Why not?”

“Why do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you ever heard of hound dogs at a crime scene?”

“Yeah.”

“They pick up a scent. Think of Regan Reilly as a hound dog.”

Georgette put her head back down. “I won’t use it again until we shove off from here. I wish we could leave now.”

“Well, we can’t. When I heard Reilly talking to the 911 operator about a murder, I realized we’ve got to stay put. If we disappear now, it’d be too suspicious. They’d really come looking for us. And I don’t want to get nailed for something I didn’t do.”

“And I don’t want to go back there tonight for the anniversary party,” Georgette said. “We’ll never get the diamonds. What’s the point?”

“The point is that it ain’t over till it’s over. I’ve got a couple weeks of the butler school left, and then we’re out of here. In the meantime, you sit and think about your boyfriend Nat. Think about where those glass stones might have come from and what he would have done with the diamonds.”

“He loved to play practical jokes.”

“It’s really funny hiding diamonds worth millions.”

Georgette stared up at the ceiling. “Whoever came into the apartment that night and murdered him might know what he did with them.”

Blaise stroked her hair. “But who would that be?”

“I don’t know.” Georgette was suddenly irritated. “You don’t think he was cheating on me, do you?”

When Jack arrived in London, it was just after 7:00 A.M. Which means it’s just after two in New York, he thought. I hope Regan’s asleep. He hadn’t checked any bags, so he zipped through immigration and out to the taxi stand, where a driver was waiting for him.

Forty-five minutes later he was at the front desk of his hotel near Scotland Yard.

“You’re lucky,” the clerk said to him. “Your room is ready. The gentleman who used it last night checked out early this morning. The maid’s already been in there and tidied up.”

“Great,” Jack said. He knew they didn’t have to have the room ready until three o’clock, but he was dying for a shower and wanted to get over to Scotland Yard. He was restless but couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason why. With any luck I can get everything done today and catch a flight back tonight, he thought hopefully.

He refused the offer of a bellman, since he just had a hanging bag, and took the key to his room on the fifth floor. When he reached the room, the maid’s cart was parked right outside the open door.

“Hello,” he said as he walked in.

“Hello, love.” The fiftyish maid popped her head out of the bathroom. She was a cheerful sort.

“I’m sorry. They told me the room was ready.”

“Right. They’re always getting confused, aren’t they? I’ll be out of here in two shakes.”

“Thanks. I have to shower and then get to work.”

“So you’re working on Saturday too?”

Jack smiled as he walked over to the bed and put down his bag. “Yes.”

“It’s a living,” she said. “All right. I’ve finished up. Have a good one.”

“You too,” Jack said, then noticed money and a note on top of the dresser. “Wait,” he called to her as she started out the door. “I think this money must be yours.”

“Thanks, love,” she said as she hurried over to the dresser. When she realized how little was there, she said, “Hardly worth the shoe leather to come and fetch it,” but nonetheless shoved it into her pocket and picked up the note. “Thanks for such great service. It was like having my own butler.” She looked at Jack and rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should become a butler.”

Jack smiled. “I know of a butler school in New York City that just started.”

The maid waved her hand at him. “We’ve got more than enough butler schools over here. Too many in fact. A lot of competition. But it doesn’t matter to me. I’d never last in one of those places. Too formal for me.” She headed back out the door. “Cheerio, love.”

“Cheerio,” Jack said as he unzipped his bag and hurried into the bathroom with his shaving kit.

Tea, Miss Regan?” Maldwin asked as he ushered her into Lydia’s living room, where Daphne, Lydia, and Thomas were enjoying their second cup. It was now three-thirty in the morning.

“Thank you, Maldwin,” she said as she sat down on a love seat next to Daphne.

“Well, what’s going on over there now?” Daphne asked.

“The police are finished. They dusted for fingerprints and secured the apartment. They’re locking the front door with a special padlock. Thomas, we’ve got to get the old locks changed first thing in the morning.”

“Of course, Regan. Do you want to stay in my apartment tonight?”

“Oh I’d offer, but my apartment is a mess,” Daphne jumped in. “Getting ready to do the movie was so hectic. There’s stuff thrown all over…”

“You must stay here!” Lydia insisted. “There’s a maid’s room off the kitchen with a pull-out Castro convertible couch. It’s safe, secure, and all yours.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” Regan said. She’d slept on many a Bernadette Castro special in her day.

“The room is rather small, so I didn’t want Maldwin to have to live in it,” Lydia explained. “But it’s perfect for your purposes.”

Thomas had filled the others in on the break-in at Ben’s. Of course, he had sugar-coated Janey’s little drop-by. “She hates to see things go to waste,” he had explained.

“Regan, with all that’s been happening, maybe we should have more security around here,” Daphne suggested.

“We can’t have armed guards walking the hallways,” Lydia answered. “This is supposed to be a place of refinement.”

“You can’t be refined when you’re dead,” Daphne shot back.

“We can’t afford it, Daphne,” Thomas cried. “Unless a miracle happens and we get those diamonds, or if the cast of
Ben-Hur
decides to join the Settlers’ Club, I’m afraid we’re in deep, deep trouble. We just may have to close down.”

“My dating service!” Lydia moaned.

“My butler school!” Maldwin choked.

“What about me?” Thomas asked. “This is more than a job to me. It was my dream to bring this club back to life. Make it a vibrant place for gracious living and art appreciation. I even imagined we’d have a five-year waiting list for people to get in!”

“Five years is what it would take for me to find another decent apartment in New York City,” Daphne commented, her voice rising. “I like it here and I want to stay. The Settlers’Club has been my whole life for the past twenty years…”

“Listen, everybody,” Regan interrupted. “There’s no sense in arguing. We all want the same thing. I suggest that we join forces and go all out to try and make it a fabulous party tomorrow night. It’s the club’s one hundredth anniversary. Stanley’s coming with his television camera, right?”

Lydia nodded. “He’ll be so mad he missed all this excitement.”

“Well, we don’t want this in his piece,” Thomas pointed out. “We only want the good stuff about the club.”

“I’ll ask my parents to come,” Regan said. “My mother’s running a crime convention, and maybe she can get some of her author friends to drop by.”

Thomas bit on his handkerchief. “Good idea, Regan.”

“We have to put on a good show. In the meantime, I’ll be working with the police. Whoever broke into Nat’s apartment tonight has to be stopped. They may be very dangerous. So keep your doors locked.”

“What a day.” Daphne sighed. “Although for me, it wasn’t all bad.”

Thomas stood. “Don’t forget. We want those sheep back for the party. Maybe they’ll be our good-luck charms.”