Death in the Smithsonian, A Jake Curtis / Vanessa Malone Mystery

DEDICATION

For Susan, my inspiration as always.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Cover Photo from www.dreamstime.com: Cover art by Rocky M.

Chapter 1

The statuesque blond woman in her late thirties or early forties, with a carefully made up face, walked through the door into my office. A behemoth of a man followed her and stood leaning against the doorjamb.

Are you Jake Curtis, the private investigator? She asked.

That's what it says on the door, I said. I indicated for her to take a seat in one of my two Moroccan leather covered client chairs facing my desk.

How can I help you? I asked.

My name is Crystal O'Shea, she said, extending her glove covered hand. We shook and again I indicated the client chair in front of my desk. She sat. "And I am missing a valuable piece of jewelry and I'd like you to find it.

Vanessa came into my office from her office across the hall. She edged her way past the behemoth standing in the doorway and took a seat on the leather sofa against the side wall.

Crystal O'Shea, this is Vanessa Malone, my wife, attorney and investigative partner. I indicated towards my client chair. This is Crystal O'Shea and pointing to the behemoth in the doorway, That's... I'm sorry, we weren't introduced."

He's Boyle Cavanaugh, Crystal said.

"Vanessa, this is Boyle Cavanaugh. Boyle and Vanessa nodded to each other.

May I ask why you are sitting in on this meeting? Crystal asked.

Because I value her opinion and she sits in on as many of our interviews as possible. If that's not to your liking, we can end this meeting now, I said.

Crystal thought for a moment. I guess it will be alright.

Good, now we can proceed, I said. I turned to Vanessa. Crystal wants us to find a piece of missing jewelry."

And exactly what is missing? Vanessa asked.

A diamond necklace worth a quarter of a million dollars, she said, without missing a beat. My face froze trying not to give away my initial surprise at the amount. I was impressed. However, Vanessa wasn't.

Where was it the last time you saw it?

In my desk drawer.

You lost it in your desk? I asked.

No, it was stolen from my desk.

Why don't you call the police. They're more equipped to handle a theft like this than I am, I said.

"Mr. Curtis, I asked some of my police friends about you. They said a lot of things regarding you; some good and some not so good. You see, before I hire you for this job, I wanted to learn everything I can about you for my own protection.

Protection from what? I asked. She ignored my question.

I was told you were born near Altoona, Pennsylvania. Your father worked for Conrail in their shops there and before that, your grandfather worked for the Pennsylvania Railroad in those same shops.

I sat there staring at her. I wondered how the hell she discovered all this information about me so I decided to ask her. How did you find out those things about me? I finally asked.

I asked my friends in the police department. They told me. I also found out your parents were killed in an automobile accident caused by a drunk driver. You, your two younger brothers and younger sister went to live with your widowered grandfather. After high school you joined the Marines. Your history seems to get rather vague after you joined the Marines. I continued to stare at her while I debated with myself whether to ask her to take her and her quarter million dollar necklace and leave my office.

May I ask you some questions to fill in the missing pieces? I want to make sure you are the investigator I need to find my necklace.

I'd rather find out more about your necklace before I decide whether or not to accept your case, I said.

Crystal O'Shea looked at me as if I had insulted her. Perhaps she thought I'd not turn down a case involving a quarter of a million dollar theft, but I would turn it down if I thought the case stunk, or was some other type of setup. I can't find your necklace if I don't know what it looks like, now can I?

After a moment for her to recover her composure, I said, So tell me about the necklace? I asked, a silly grin on my face.

It's a diamond necklace with a platinum choker collar from which ten platinum pendents are suspended. The collar and the pendents are covered with about fifty carets of pure, flawless blue white diamonds. I purchased it as my only vanity purchase after I realized my chain of stores became successful. At the mention of her vanity, a red rose blush colored her cheeks.

Do you have any pictures of it? I asked, without skipping a beat and acting as if a missing quarter of a million dollar necklace is an everyday occurrence in my office.

Yes, but I didn't think about bringing any with me.

Ms O'Shea...

Crystal.

Crystal, how did you come to me?

You came very highly recommended by the same police friends who looked into you for me.

Who are your contacts?

I'd rather not say, she said with a smile.

What would you like to know? I asked.

I'm looking for a discrete and good private investigator. Definitely discrete and definitely good. I smiled at her. She smiled back.

"You may ask your questions but I won't guarantee I'll answer them.

Fair enough. Did you see any action in the Marines?

I did two tours in the First Gulf War.

Why did you leave the Marines?

I became tired of all the military regimentation.

What did you do after you left the Marines?

After I left the Corps, I went to the D.C. Police Academy and worked in a squad car for about a year.

She thought about it for a moment, then asked. Why did you leave the police?

Regimentation.

Regimentation?

Yes, it was like the Corps. Don't get me wrong. I loved the Corps, still do, but I hated the regimentation.

I see.

Tell me exactly how and when the necklace happened to turn up missing.

Last night. I had an intimate little party for my store managers and their guests at my apartment, four couples. I noticed the necklace missing after the party.

How soon after the party?

When the party ended, I walked into my home office, sat at my desk, opened the drawer and discovered the necklace missing from it's velvet lined box. I work mostly from my home office but I do have a small office in the little warehouse I own which services my four stores.

I own a small, but growing, chain of high end women's clothing boutiques in the city, called D C Dresses. Notice the double entendre in the name? She asked with a chuckle.

A clothing boutique? I asked startled.

Actually four boutiques, Crystal said smiling. "Something for my old age.

How well do you know the couples at your party?

I know the four ladies, my managers, quite well and the four gentlemen were their guests. I’ve met only one of the guests before last night, Pauline's long time friend, Anthony Wickman. Carol brought the same guest to several functions but I can't remember his name. The other two were strangers to me.

"Do you suspect any of them?

Yes and no. They were the only ones present at the party besides Boyle and myself. Boyle is my friend, body guard and chief of store security, she said pointing to the mountain of muscle blocking the doorway. His only response, a nod. I nodded back.

I want to hire you to find my necklace, Crystal said. I reached into the top left desk drawer and withdrew one of my standard contracts and started to fill it in.

Mr. Curtis, do you have any children?

No, how about you?

I beg your pardon?

Do you have any children? I asked.

No. I think I hit a sore spot with Crystal as her eyes fell to her folded hands resting in her lap. Thank you for your frankness. I had been told you are a very truthful and honorable man. I can see a little bit of information I received is accurate."

Crystal O'Shea's black Versace dress had a high collar wrapping tightly around her neck like the collar of a Marine Corps blue dress uniform with short sleeves just over the shoulders in the oriental style. The hem came to an inch above her knees. I noticed her shapely legs when she stepped into my office. I am married. I look, but nothing I see compares with Vanessa.

She wore a white sweater draped over her shoulders. A gold chain strung with pearls around the front of her neck kept the sweater from falling off. Her shoes were a pair of black stiletto pumps which probably cost more than I charge a day. Her small matching clutch purse rested in her lap. Her blond hair fashionably styled in a pageboy cut with bangs swept to the right side of her face. The bangs accented her hazel eyes. The lighter blond highlights applied so well made her hair color look natural. Her flawless makeup looked as if it had been professionally and so well applied, it appeared as if she wore no makeup at all. The fragrance of her Chanel Number Five filled the air in my office. There was nothing cheap about Crystal O'Shea. She knew how to dress and it appeared she could afford to do it well. The morning sun streaming in my office window fell on her face illuminating it with an angelic glow. Crystal O'Shea was a very beautiful woman.

The behemoth leaning against the doorjamb was tall, maybe six foot six, two hundred thirty pounds of well built solid steel with close cropped black hair with a sprinkling of gray at the temples and deep blue eyes. His well tailored black Armani suit, white dress shirt with a bright canary yellow necktie tied in a Windsor knot covered his frame. He wore a matching yellow pocket square. He also wore a pair of well polished black plain toe dress shoes. His suit was so well tailored it almost concealed the bulge of a pistol in a shoulder rig under his left arm pit. An experienced PI, such as myself, could see the bulge letting me know Boyle was carrying. I put my hand in my top right hand drawer and gripped my .45. He stood silently leaning against the doorjamb as Crystal O'Shea sat by the desk. I didn't know if he was capable of speaking, as he hasn't said a word while he and Crystal were in my office.

I'm going to need a list of the names and addresses of your managers and their guests attending the party, as well as Boyle and yours. There were ten people at your party: the four ladies, the four men, you and Boyle. It stands to reason one of your ten people stole your necklace.

Do you seriously think I stole my own necklace? She asked.

It won't be the first time someone stole something from themselves to get the insurance money.

It's not insured. Do you still think I stole my own necklace. A surprised look came over my face.

No.

If you don't mind me asking, how come you don't have insurance on your necklace? Vanessa asked.

There would be too many questions. I let that statement slide but I still wondered about it.

How about Mr Cavanaugh over there?

Mr. Curtis...

Call me Jake.

Jake, I trust Boyle with my life and have. I know he would never steal from me. Another thing I let slide, for a moment.

I brought the names and addresses of the four managers at the party with me, she said, as she slid the typed list across my desk to me. I picked up the sheet and looked at the list of names. On it were only four typed, double spaced names and addresses. I thought you might need these," she said.

I see you haven't listed any of their guests, I said.

No. Other than Tony Wickman, I don't know their names, Crystal said.

Tony Wickman came with?...

Pauline Walsh, Crystal said.

I made a note of Wickman's name. We'll find the others.

I seem to remember Carol's guest. I think his name was Tommy Belson. He's shorter and younger than Carol by at least ten years. He seemed to be out of it, Crystal said.

Out of it? I asked.

Kind of not in the present. Kind of spacey. Stood by himself mostly. It was as if he were out of his comfort zone. Carol led him around like a puppy dog. I made a note.

"My managers come to me because of our reputation as one of the best boutiques in the city. I pay my managers a greater commission on their sales than any other comparable store pays and I expect sixty hours of work a week. They take home every week approximately what other store managers in our type of business take home every two weeks.

In addition to my four managers, our stores have two full time sales ladies and two part timers.

And they were not invited to the party?

No. This party was only for our managers. We usually have two events a year for all our associates. I like to take care of my people. The happier they are with the company, the happier they are in their jobs. People dedicated to the company are much better employees than the ones who are only working for a paycheck. Those kind of employees tend not to stay around long.

Some of my managers live in apartments in the building I own at a reduced rent and they seem happy with their jobs. They're all extroverted ladies; good with our customers and most importantly, they know how to sell. These ladies are my employees and for the most part, my friends. I'm having a hard time imagining one of my friends stealing from me." I scanned the list of names.

Which of these ladies do you consider your friends? I asked.

I consider Pauline Walsh the daughter I could never have. I saw the same expression on her face as when I asked about her having children.

I once considered Carol Bottomley a friend, but our relationship seems to have soured. I don't know why.

Tell me about Pauline Walsh, I said reading from the top of the list.

Pauline is a really a sweet girl, a beautiful smile. She's in her late twenties, about five ten, dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. Pauline is a very smart woman who reminds me of myself at that age. She's worked in one of our stores part time since she was eighteen. I hired her as manager about four years ago. Crystal paused for a moment touching her handkerchief to her eye as Boyle started towards her. I sensed there is something beyond the normal employer employee relationship going on between Boyle and Crystal. Boyle stepped back to the door as Crystal smiled at him as she waved him away and continued.

She has a very dry sense of humor which always leaves me laughing. I've been showing Pauline some of the administrative side of the business. My managers know after myself and Boyle, Pauline is next in charge. They know I trust Pauline. She seems to enjoy her work and the her compensation package makes her happy as well. Our clients have told me they feel Pauline really wants them to be dressed in the most flattering way. Pauline has excellent taste when it comes to clothes. I wish our other managers had her taste. Pauline's sense of style is inbred. It's a gift. You can't learn it. Pauline is the highest paid person on my staff. She invests her money wisely and says her retirement is assured. I would be very hurt if it turned out Pauline stole my necklace.

What can you tell me about Carol Bottomley?

Carol's a strange one. She comes from the UK and has a delightful British accent. The ladies from the British and Australian Embassies seem to like having Carol wait on them. She's been with me almost nine years. Carol is five eleven with mousy brown hair and the typical long narrow British face, in her mid to late thirties.

Did she earn a good living?

Carol was one of our better salespersons until she wasn't.

What happened? I asked.

She seems to have lost interest in her work; maybe her life a well. Who knows, Crystal said with a shrug of her shoulders.

What did she do with all her earnings?

I haven't got the slightest idea.

Are you thinking of terminating her?

"If I can't turn her attitude around I might have to. I never like to, as you say, terminate anyone but I can't continue to allow her to cost me money and ruin my business.

Sounds like she may have the thoughts of a big payday. It would be motive enough to steal the necklace, I said.

Could be, Crystal said. "But I can't imagine her stealing my necklace. She seems so timid, so afraid. Stealing my necklace would take cajones and Carol Bottomley no longer has any – not anymore.

"I want my staff to be exceptionally dressed. I want our sales people to model the clothing we sell. I offer deep discounts on what they purchase for themselves if they'll wear our clothes at work and let our customers see our clothes on real live people up close and personal. Sometimes one of my full time sales ladies has an exceptional month, I'll give her the dress of her choice as a bonus.

Lets see how things plays out with Carol after I have a little talk with her, I said.

If you say so, Crystal replied.

Tell me about Suki Smith.

"Suki is an Amerasian, the union of an American GI father stationed in Japan and a Japanese geisha mother. The father managed to marry the woman overseas after he got her pregnant and brought her to the States. Suki was born in this country and has an American birth certificate. She's five foot five, twenty one years old been with me two years, has straight jet black hair, more American than Japanese.

Suki told me her geisha mother taught her how to please men in the traditional geisha manner. Suki simply modified her mother's teachings to please our high society female clientèle. Her sense of style is not at Pauline's level, but she's trying.

"Again she has motive. What about the last one, Terry Perez.

Terry is a strange cookie.

How so? I asked.

I'm not sure about her. She's five six. Hispanic, first generation, probably of illegal immigrants, been with us about two years, probably closer to two and a half years. She seems rougher and tougher than her twenty-four years and she is loaded with street smarts. It's like she's had a hard life. The rest of my managers come from middle to upper class situations. Terry has barrio written all over her.

What caused you to hire her as a manager? I asked."

I didn't hire her as a manager. She applied at a store for a part time sales job, then with employee turnover, full time. The manager of her store had to quit about year ago. Her husband's job transferred him out of the area. Terry was next in line for the job so I thought I'd give her the chance. Boyle didn't agree with my decision.

I turned to Boyle still standing in the doorway and motioned him to come and take the other client chair. Reluctantly he came and sat. He gave Crystal a questioning look, as if he needed her permission to come and sit.

Boyle how come you disagreed with Crystal's plan to hire Terry as manager? I asked.

He looked at Crystal again. Crystal nodded at him.

I didn't trust her, Boyle said in his thick Irish brogue. I looked over to Vanessa sitting on the sofa, her ever present notebook on her lap, her pen in hand, taking copious notes like I knew she would.

Why didn't you trust her? Vanessa asked.

Crystal and Boyle turned to Vanessa. I don't know. It's just a gut feeling, Boyle said.

They turned back towards me. I have trusted Boyle's gut feelings in the past and it has been almost always right but in Terry's case, I had no other choice but to give her the job.

How come you didn't have a choice? Vanessa asked.

Looking towards Vanessa, Crystal said, I needed a manager and she was right there.

Crystal, do you trust Terry? I asked.

Crystal took in a deep breath as if to make up her mind before answering my question. I don't know.

She walked into one of our stores off the street and asked for a part time job. We needed another part timer. She seemed qualified so the manager hired her.

"Later, I met Terry. She was a very beautiful young woman, long shiny black hair, olive completion. I thought she looked very stylish, neat, clean and presentable and would fit well in an upwardly mobile business environment such as ours. We talked. I told her we would give it a try.

The manager reported she got along well with our clientèle and other staffers. Her sales were at an acceptable level. So far she's worked out. The manager reported back Terry was good at her job and knew well the art of selling to the rich and powerful women of the city. I also asked Boyle to keep an eye on her." Crystal turned to look at Boyle. He smiled and nodded at her.

I looked at the typed list. I notice two of your managers have the same addresses, I said.

Pauline and Suki live in my building. Carol used to but she moved out a few months ago saying she could no longer afford the rent. I offered to cut it but she moved out anyway. Terry lives downtown somewhere. I'll check payroll for their addresses and get the information to you.

It seems like all four of your managers had some sort of motive for the theft; not to mention their guests. Let's not forget their guests. One of their guests could've stolen the necklace without your manager's knowledge. Assuming one of your managers stole your necklace, who would get your vote as the thief? I asked as I slid the completed contract across the desk towards her, along with my pen.

Crystal looked me in the eye and said, I don't know.

I looked to Boyle. He shook his head indicating he didn't have any idea either.

She read the contract, signed it, opened her purse and fanned out ten crisp, new one hundred dollar bills and laid them on my desk.

When can you start? She asked.

I started when you signed the contract. I slid the list of names and addresses back to Crystal. Please list the addresses of your stores along with the name of the corresponding manger.

Crystal filled in the requested information.

"I'll stop in your stores and talk in confidence with the managers about your suspicions of inventory shrinkage.

Crystal wrote her address in the list and handed it back to me. I'll have the pictures of the necklace for you when you come tomorrow, she said with a smile.

Crystal stood, reached across my desk with her still gloved extended hand. We shook. Boyle, taking his cue from Crystal stood. I extended my hand towards him. He hesitated for a split second trying to decide whether to shake my hand. Finally, he extended his hand and we shook.

See you tomorrow, noonish, I said. Please don't tell any of your personnel I'm coming. She nodded her agreement and started to the door.

She stopped half way to the door and turned towards me. One more thing Jake, when you find out for sure who stole my necklace, no cops. Tell me and I will decide where to go from there. I nodded. With that she walked out of my office with Boyle leading her through the door than slipping next to her, their shoulders touching. The scent of her Channel Number Five lingered in the air. Neither Crystal nor Boyle made any effort to shake Vanessa's hand. I began to wonder if I might've made a