The Necklace

Chapter 11

Verna kept her voice low, her gaze skittering back and forth to the two bikers in the back booth.

What did you do, Hart? Why are they here.?"

"I sent the man who snatched Felicia Smythe-Frye and had Harry's arm broken, a bill. The two Druids in the back booth are temporary insurance."

"What do you mean, a bill?"

"An invoice if you like. If he returns Felicia unharmed in any way and makes compensation to Harry, I'll void the charge. If not, there will be interest . . . high interest."

"Hart what have you done? Why are they helping you? Last time you were dealing with them you were scared to death they were going to kill you."

"No. Last time we settled our problem over Thai Shrimp, remember?"

The attempt to lighten the mood failed and Verna slid out of the booth and went back to the kitchen. I waved goodbye to the bikers and left for my office. I figured if there was contact it would be there. Waiting again and my earlier bravado was being assaulted by rational misgivings. What the hell did think I was doing baiting a notorious crime boss.

When the phone rang I jumped, knocking my empty coffee mug onto the floor and hearing the various pieces skitter across the hardwood.

"Hello?"

"Richard Hart?"

"Who is asking please?"

"A representative of the man who is going to anchor you off his yacht after breaking you into little pieces." I looked at my coffee mug.

"Let him tell me himself if he's so tough." I gripped my chair to keep myself from shaking so hard.

"You've got stones, Hart."

"It's my theme song. Don't waste my time, put Nelly on the line or I'm hanging up."

If I held my breath any longer, straining for any clue as to what was happening, I would explode. When a voice came on I had to cover the mouthpiece and blow it out in a rush.

"You wanted to talk to me . . . talk."

"Felicia Smythe-Frye."

"What about her?"

"I want you to send her home unharmed in any way and forget all about any necklace dreams you might have had."

There was a derisive snort. "Or what, Mutt?"

"Or you will wind up being the employer of an army of orthopaedic candidates much like the one who hurt my friend."

"Are you threatening me? Do you know who-?"

"Not a threat . . . Buster . . . a promise."

"I'll have your guts for garters, Hart!"

"Suit yourself. Send the girl home. Forget the necklace and we all move on."

"You'll be moving on alright."

The phone went to dial tone. My hand was shaking so much I couldn't get the receiver on the cradle. What had I let myself in for?

********

Tattoo listened while I told him about my conversation with DiGregorio and how a couple of his friends watching my office would be quite welcome. He advised me that I wouldn't have long to wait for a response; DiGregorio wasn't one to procrastinate.

I called Verna at work and then again when she got home and listened once more to her opinion of my grand plan. She was right but I put on my John Wayne face and hunkered down to wait. My reclaimed coffee maker worked overtime and the pastries I brought in for the long haul were long gone, reduced to crumbs on my desk and trousers.