The Necklace

Chapter 2

The Smythe-Frye brownstone was a three storey, up-stoop in the Upper East Side on a street lined with huge London Planetrees that provided shade all day long. I climbed the steps and leaned on a copper bell press the size of a pocket book.

"Sir?" The door opened half way and a petite face under a starched white cap gave me a quizzical look.

Whoah! Uniformed maid yet! "Hi, my name is Richard Hart. I wonder if I might speak with Mrs. Smythe-Frye or her daughter."

"Your business, sir?

"With them . . . private." I released my charm smile. The door closed.

Unaccustomed to servant rebuffs I stood staring at the door, considering my next move when it reopened.

"You said you have private business with our family?"

Now I consider myself a pretty worldly guy, not much shocks me or catches me off guard but never, I mean never have I had a door answered by such a beautiful, naked woman!

"Uuh- bdah, bdah . . ."

"For heaven's sake, Felicia put something on before answering the door." The austere looking woman wearing a yoga suit shoved the younger woman aside and stared at me. "Can I help you?"

For a second I didn't think anyone could but I managed to rip my eyes off the retreating figure and form what was hopefully a smile.

A brief explanation at the door led to my eagerly welcomed invitation to enter. I followed the woman, who introduced herself as Deborah Smythe-Frye, my head swivelling from side to side as we traversed a long hall and wound up in an atrium filled with wicker, wrought iron and hanging baskets of flowers.

The young woman was there, stretched out on a padded floral lounge, clothed in an opaque dressing gown. My disappointment must have appeared in neon on my face as she smirked when I stared.

"Mr. Hart is here to discuss my necklace." Her voice quavered.

"Oh, did you find it?" The voice was huskier than I imagined but then along with the things I was imagining who cared.

"Ah, no. I have just begun my investigation." I forced my attention to the wife. "Perhaps you could fill me in, Mrs. Smythe-Frye?"

"Deborah will do, Smythe-Frye is quite a mouthful. I uh- last wore the necklace to a charity evening for the Chandler Library." She sat back, crossing her legs and twisting her fingers. "So many of the institutions we hold precious are falling on hard times because of technology."

I thought her necklace alone could probably save a number of them. "And then what, it goes back in your safe?"

"Bennett told you about that?" Her tone hardened.

"I'm investigating the reason that it's missing, it is an important fact." My shrug was automatic.

"Yes. It stays there at all times when not being worn." She shot a glance at her daughter.

"And so the next event was when you missed it?"

"Yes it was a week later we were hosting a fund raiser here for Councilman Arthur Considine . . . the coming election."

"You went ahead without it, you didn't call the police?"

"Of course, Mr. Hart. One doesn't shirk duty even when experiencing personal inconveniences."

Inconvenience! A million dollar necklace mysteriously disappears and it's an inconvenience! My five thousand dollar retainer must have been milk money.