Fleeced: A Regan Reilly Mystery by Carol Clark (grave mercy txt) 📗

up. “Look at this dingy dump. We haven’t had a score in so long it’s pathetic. You should have taken some of his wife’s jewelry.”

“I thought I had four diamonds worth millions, and besides, I happened to be carrying a very small purse. I went in to his apartment when I heard the gossip about him selling the diamonds. I was frantic. Did I know that last night was the night I’d have to grab them? If I had, I’d have carried a bigger purse, I’ll tell you that right now.”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

“For right now, you go to butler class. If you manage to graduate, that’s going to come in handy. You’ll have access to all those grand homes that are just aching to be robbed.”

“I can’t take all the pressure. And I can’t stand any more of Maldwin Feckles’s endless preaching about butlering hints and tips and do’s and don’t’s. ‘A butler should be eager to serve.’ ‘A butler should display good breeding.’” Blaise’s voice rose as he continued. “‘A butler should always greet his employer with the proper respect.’ ‘A butler shouldn’t question any requests.’ I want to yell Shut up!”

“Please, Blaise, you’re giving me a headache.”

“And I hate it when you go on dates with other guys.”

“Don’t get me started,” Georgette protested. “You think I like it, going out with those losers to see if they have anything worth stealing? And if I didn’t accept any dates, Lydia wouldn’t keep on inviting me to her parties. That was the only way I got to sneak over and see Nat. I should have hit him over the head and taken the diamonds the first time I saw them instead of planning to replace them with fakes.”

“Don’t even joke about hitting him over the head. It looks like someone did.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I was there. When I heard the back door open, I nearly died. I ran out of there as fast as I could. And you have the nerve to ask me why I didn’t grab his dead wife’s jewelry.”

“You could be charged with murder.”

“Blaise! Stop it! I didn’t do anything to hurt him.”

“We’ve got to get back in that apartment and look for the diamonds. They must be in there.”

“Well, I can’t go back there until tomorrow night-for the club party. Lydia ’s next soirée isn’t till next week. You take the key. If you can get in there today, do it!” Georgette stood up and put her arms around her lover.

“You smell good,” he said as he buried his face in her neck.

Georgette stroked the back of his neck. “We’ll get those diamonds, you’ll graduate, and then we’ll go on a nice vacation.”

Blaise laughed. “Where I won’t have to polish the silver.”

“No, honey, your job is to steal the silver.”

They embraced, and then Georgette watched as Blaise put on his coat and gloves and headed out the door to butler school.

14

When he formed his butler school, Maldwin Feckles had decided that field trips would be an important part of his students’ education. There were cigar stores to visit, china shops, designer-clothing showrooms, wine shops, jewelry stores-so many places to go and learn about the finest things money can buy. And of course how to use and care for them properly.

Now Maldwin stood with his first class of four students in a crowded, dark, and dusty antiques shop in rural New Jersey. He had hoped to acquaint them with objects that are found in homes that reeked of old money. He also wanted to pick up a few serving pieces for Lydia ’s future parties. Last night three of her good plates had fallen off the kitchen counter and smashed to smithereens on the floor.

No one had taken the blame, of course, but Maldwin had tried to take it in stride. It had been right after one of the guests came running in to say there was a dead body across the hall.

Maldwin sniffed as he glanced around the shop, which turned out to offer mostly a hodgepodge of other people’s junk. But after careful exploration, with Maldwin picking up objects such as silver trays and odd-shaped forks and pointing out their usefulness, he had managed to find several items for purchase that he would put into service at Miss Lydia ’s apartment. One was a silver soup tureen with a tarnish buildup that must have taken decades, another was a set of espresso spoons that one of his students thought was for babies, and three were stained teapots that would require scrubbing with industrial strength denture cleanser.

They were now being packaged by the clerk, who seemed to think that everything in the shop was some sort of treasure.

“Students,” Maldwin said, pointing to a stack of china dishes. “These should never be stored without a protective pad between each plate. The pad can be made of bubble wrap, if need be, but the plates will scratch each other if they’re not-”

Maldwin’s cell phone rang.

Thank God, Blaise thought.

“I thought you said cell phones were rude,” Vinnie Checkers mumbled. He was clearly the troublemaker student. Maldwin wasn’t sure why he had even signed up for the class. He looked like an extra from Grease.

“They are rude when they disrupt meals, entertainment, or if the cell phone user insists on carrying on his business in a loud voice on trains, buses, and in other public areas.” Maldwin sniffed as he pulled the phone out of his breast pocket. “Otherwise, they are most handy… hello… what?… oh my… another party tonight… we will return to the city at once… it should take a couple of hours.” He hung up the phone as fear seized his stomach and began a slow gnaw.

“What’s the matter, Maldwin?” Albert Ketler asked, his mouth hanging open in a most unbecoming fashion. It had occurred to Maldwin that he had a constantly befuddled look about him. Another one who was only accepted because the