“A school ring?” Billy said. “Wait a minute. This might be nothing—”
“Try us,” Regan said.
“I stopped by here on Saturday afternoon to talk to Larry. The club wasn’t open yet. We were sitting up front at the bar, then I went to the back to use the rest room. When I was coming out my cell phone rang. It was my mother calling. If I don’t pick up her calls I feel guilty no matter what I’m doing—” He paused. “You can see what drove me to be a comedian—anyway, I answered, had a quick conversation about the state of my health and hers, then hung up. When I rejoined Larry, there was a piece of paper on the counter in front of him. He said somebody had just dropped by to sign up for the class, but Larry told him it was full. Larry has nicknames for everyone. Called this guy “College Boy” because he had on one of those big school rings. Larry was so happy that his class was full. He told the guy he’d contact him if there were any cancellations and would add his e-mail address to the list of people who were sent the newsletter.”
“Was he tall with blond hair?” Kit asked quickly.
“I have no idea. He was wearing a college ring, wasn’t he? I think it’s worth calling Larry.”
“It certainly can’t hurt,” Regan said.
“I spoke to him a little while ago. He’s at his place at the Jersey Shore. Let me get my cell phone with his number,” Kent offered.
Three minutes later, Kent had Larry on the line. After briefly explaining the situation, he said, “I’m going to put you on speaker,” then placed the phone on the table.
“Hello, Larry,” Regan said. “Billy told us he was with you the other day, and you nicknamed someone who had come in to sign up for your class ‘College Boy.’”
“Yes, I remember,” Larry said.
“What did he look like?” Regan asked.
“He was very tall, I’d say at least six five, and had blond hair—”
A shot of adrenaline went through everyone sitting at the table.
“He was a really nice kid,” Larry continued. “Very polite. I thought he seemed too normal to pursue stand-up comedy.”
Billy rolled his eyes.
“And you noticed his college ring?”
“Yup. It was one of those big, heavy, chunky ones. Like a World Series ring. Must be uncomfortable to have that thing weighing down your finger.”
“Billy said you had his name on a piece of paper. Do you have that paper?” Regan asked.
“I hate to admit this, but I have no idea where it is. I need to get more organized.”
“Did you notice what hand he used to sign the paper?” Regan asked.
“He was a southpaw. A lefty just like me. I always notice that.”
Becky gasped.
“He sounds like the guy we’re looking for,” Regan said. “You don’t by any chance remember his name, do you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You do?”
“I do because he has a common last name. I thought to myself, if he ends up joining the Screen Actors Guild, his name might already be taken. That’s what happened to me. I had to change mine. But this guy’s first name was a little unusual so I thought he might be all right.”
“What’s his name?” Regan asked, trying not to sound impatient.
“Chip Jones. I have no idea what his e-mail address is though. He wrote that down, too.”
“Larry, this is great. You’re sure his name was Chip Jones?”
“Yes, I remember thinking of that expression ‘He’s a chip off the old block.’”
“Can you recall anything else he said?”
“I remarked it was a beautiful day. He agreed and told me he’d walked all the way from the Upper East Side where he lives. That’s all I can tell you. He was in and out pretty fast.”
“Thanks, Larry. You’ve been a big help,” Regan said.
“What a nice kid. I hope nothing bad happens to him.”
“We’re going to do everything we can to find him as quickly as possible. If you think of anything else at all, no matter how insignificant, please call.” She gave him her cell phone number. When she hung up, she called information. There was no listing for a Chip Jones in Manhattan. There were several listings under C. Jones on the Upper East Side, and several more that didn’t list an address. “The trouble is,” Regan said to the group, “his legal name is probably not Chip. That’s usually a nickname.”
“What do we do now, Regan?” Kit asked.
“Let’s head over to your hotel and talk to the people from Georgina’s company. See what else we can find out about her. I’d also like to speak to the police in Atlanta who are questioning her friend and get a look at Georgina’s room if the hotel security will allow it.”
“I’m coming with you,” Billy said firmly.
“Good,” Regan said. She turned to Kent. “Is there a phone book here we could take with us?”
“Yes, I’ll get it for you right away.”
“Thanks. You and Becky have both been very helpful.”
“I’ll keep thinking about this, Regan,” Becky promised. “Maybe I’ll remember something else.”
“I appreciate it.” Regan started to get up. “Billy and Kit, on the way over to the hotel, you two can start calling all the C. Joneses in the book while I call Jack and give him an update.”
14
Chip and Georgina were walking up a quiet, darkened section of Park Avenue in the Fifties when his cell phone rang.
Georgina squeezed his fingers. “Don’t answer it.”
He laughed. “Why not?”
“It will ruin the magic.”
“Oh, come on.” Chip pulled the phone out of the case attached to his belt and glanced at the caller ID. “It’s my roommate, Phil. He’s a good guy. This will just take a minute. Hello…”
A feeling of frustration and dread came over Georgina as Chip chatted with his friend. This wasn’t going to be easy tonight even though Chip had been sent to her as a gift. Usually she lured the guys to her car and then drove off with them. She patted her handbag. The knockout drops were in there. Drops she herself used to get to sleep. The small branding iron was in the zippered compartment. And she had her usual supply of lighters. I’m always prepared, she thought.
“You’re where?” Chip asked. “Hey, it sounds great, but I’m with someone. We’re just walking around. I’ll catch you later.”
“So you have a roommate,” Georgina remarked casually, as Chip stuck his cell phone back in its holder. “Where do you live?”
“On East Ninetieth Street. There’s a new bar not far from my apartment that’s really popular. All of our friends go there. We can join them if you want…”
“No,” Georgina said with a smile. “I’d much rather be alone with you.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Chip said as his cell phone started to ring again.
“Why don’t you turn that off?” Georgina asked, trying to sound playful.
“I will,” Chip said as he again glanced at the caller ID. “But this is my mother calling. She probably just wants to see if I’m okay in the blackout.” He pressed the answer button. “Hello, Mom. Mom? We have a bad connection. Let me call you back.” Chip disconnected and then dialed the number of his parents’ summer home in Maine. His mother picked up.
“Chip, honey, are you all right down there?”
“Mom, I’m fine. Did you lose power?”
“No, we didn’t.”
“Well, don’t worry about me. I can’t really talk right now. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
“Are you home?”
“No. It’s too hot to sit in the apartment. Everybody is out on the streets. It’s kind of fun. As long as it doesn’t last too long. Say hi to Dad.”
“Be careful. I love you.”
“Love you too.” When he hung up, he switched off the phone, then turned to Georgina. “No more phone calls. I promise.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Now where are we headed?”
Georgina threw her
arms around his neck. “I have a great idea. Why don’t we see if we can pick up a cold bottle of champagne and then sit on one of those benches outside Central Park on Fifth Avenue? It’d make me feel as if we were in a Woody Allen movie.”
“You like Woody Allen?” Chip asked excitedly.
Georgina nodded. “Annie Hall is one of my favorite movies of all time.”
“I have all his comedy tapes. He’s hysterical. He’s what got me interested in comedy.” Chip started to laugh. “I already have a bunch of jokes I wrote about being so tall.”
“I can’t wait to hear them.” Georgina massaged his neck and said softly, “Sitting with you on a park bench, sipping champagne, listening to your jokes—what more could a girl ask for?”
Chip gave her a quick hug. “I’m so psyched you’re a Woody Allen fan. The last girl I went out with did not get his humor at all.” He reached up for Georgina’s hands, pulled them from around his neck, and hurriedly started walking her down the block. “I doubt there are any liquor stores open now, but let’s see if we can find a hotel or restaurant that will sell us a bottle to go.”
“Whoopee!” Georgina laughed. “This is going to be so much fun.”
15
“So how are we going to do this?” Lorraine asked Clay.
Clay sighed deeply. He stood, walked over to the window with the gravity of a deep thinker pondering world issues, and stared out at the vast darkness that was Central Park. “Lorraine?” he began in a serious tone as he rubbed his chin.
“Yes.”
“Do you still have keys to the apartment?”
“Why wouldn’t I have keys?” Lorraine asked somewhat impatiently. “Until a couple of hours ago I thought I still lived there. But what good is that going to do us now? They must have changed the locks.”
Clay smiled and shook his head. “Lorraine, Lorraine. Sweetie, they might not have changed the locks yet. Most times people don’t change the locks until a renovation is complete. These people would have no reason to worry that you or the Candy Man would barge back in, now would they?”
“I suppose not. But once they knocked down the wall between the two lofts, their old loft and everything in it is accessible with our keys.”
Clay turned to her and folded his arms. “During renovations people usually make sure all their valuables are locked up. They know that workmen are coming and going all the time. The contractor often has keys. So why bother changing all the locks until the work is all done? There is always someone who can get in. Changing the locks when the job is finished ensures that no one who worked on the place can gain entry at a later date.”
Lorraine jumped up. “You’re brilliant, Clay! It’s so simple, but it took you to figure it out. We have to get down there as soon as possible.”
Clay drank in her praise. It felt good to have someone compliment him these days. It seemed that everyone in his life was on his case about one thing or another. He cleared his throat. “There’s only one thing.”
“What?”
“Is there a chain on the door?”
“No. Conrad and I had talked about getting one but never got around to it. Those locks are heavy duty so we weren’t too worried. I just hope the new owners didn’t put one on.”
“If they didn’t change the locks yet, then I’m sure they wouldn’t have bothered with a chain. Those things are usually puny anyway. First thing we’ll do is try and gain access with your keys. If worse comes to worst and we get caught trying to get in, you can always say that you didn’t believe Conrad. You thought he was bluffing when he said he sold the place.”
“I knew that you were the one to call,” Lorraine said excitedly, as she fluffed up her hair and stretched out her arms like a peacock. “Yessss! You are brilliant! I’ll have those letters back in no time. You’ll have cash in the bank. We’ll celebrate!” Lorraine ran over and gave Clay a meaningful hug, similar to the ones they shared after performing a great scene together in class. You’d have thought they had just negotiated world peace.
Filled with positive energy, Clay joked, “Not that I want to run into these people of course. Who are they? We definitely want to make sure they’re not home.”
Lorraine pulled back from him, her body slumping ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? Who are these people who own the apartment now?”
“They’re just a young couple.”
“What do you mean ‘just a young couple?’ Do they have kids? What do they do? What are their habits?”
“They don’t have kids.”
“What do they do, Lorraine? You’re being evasive and, I might add, not a very good actress.”
Lorraine turned, walked back to the bar, poured herself another glass of wine, and forced a few tears to roll down her cheeks.
“Lorraine, what’s wrong?” Clay asked as he hurried to her side.
“It doesn’t matter anymore. I know you won’t want to help me.”
“I do want to help you. Let’s face it, I need the cash, and the money I’ll make from selling the jewelry. With any luck that will carry me until I land a series.”
“All right then. But you’re not going to like what I tell you.”
“Try me.”
“He’s the head of the NYPD Major Case Squad. She’s a private investigator. Regan and Jack Reilly are their names.”
Clay blinked. “My mother reads her mother’s books.”
“That’s nice.”
“She was even hoping that I’d somehow meet Regan in New York and we’d hit it off.”
Lorraine rolled her eyes. “Well, you missed out by a few months. She’s taken.”
“I know. It’s hard to meet a nice girl. I’ve had the worst luck. All the girls I’m interested in are looking for somebody who’s rich. If I were a working actor—”
“So our love lives aren’t the best right now,” Lorraine interrupted. “What’s in that safe will help us both with what’s most important to us at this moment—our careers. You’ll have the money to take classes and audition without having to stress out about other jobs. I’ll set those letters on fire and not have to worry about being banished from Hollywood forever.” She sipped her drink. “Then our lives will be on course. I know they will.”
Clay nodded solemnly. “You’re right. This could be a major turning point for both of us. We need to get into that apartment as soon as possible. My rent is overdue.”
“It’s the fourteenth of the month.”
“Don’t remind me.” He snapped his fingers. “We’ve got to get moving. With this blackout, Jack Reilly is probably working. And with any luck Regan isn’t home, either. You don’t have their phone number by any chance, do you?”
“I do!” Lorraine cried excitedly. “I ran into Regan in the hallway about six months ago. It was before she and Jack were married. I told her I’d been waiting for a package that hadn’t been delivered yet and I had to run to an appointment. She offered to accept it for me. We exchanged numbers and promised we’d help each other out with deliveries. I have her number in my cell phone.”
“What is it? I’ll call and see if they’re home.”
“What if they have caller ID?”
“My phone number comes up as anonymous. Besides, you need electricity for caller ID.”
Lorraine quickly grabbed her cell phone off the coffee table, looked up the Reillys’ number, then read it aloud to Clay. As he punched in the number he mumbled, “Hopefully they’re out rescuing people from the subway.”
They both stood quietly as the connection was made and the Reillys’ phone began to ring. Lorraine held her breath as it rang several times. “No machine is picking up because there’s no electricity,” Clay whispered, then added victoriously, “they must not be home!” After several more rings, he snapped his phone shut. “Put on those high heels of yours, and let’s get out of here. It is time for us to seize the day!”
Lorraine almost tripped as she jammed her feet into her shoes. “
I am never in my life going to write another letter again,” she said excitedly, “not a letter, not a grocery list, nothing! I’m not putting anything in writing ever again. And as for that future ex-husband of mine, he’s going to regret he did this to me. I’m going to make sure of that!”
“Let’s focus on one thing at a time, Lorraine,” Clay warned her. “You remember what Wendall always told us to do when pursuing our dreams.”
“No matter what anyone says or does to deter you, ignore them. Just keep sweeping the alley. Get the job done.”
“That’s right!” Clay answered with a confidence he didn’t feel. “We have to forget about everything else until we retrieve what’s in that safe. We have to keep sweeping that alley.” He straightened his shoulders as Lorraine grabbed her purse. “Let’s head to Tribeca.”
As they exited the suite, Clay tried to block the image that kept popping up in his mind—the disapproving face of their acting teacher.
“Of course, if you choose the wrong alley to sweep,” Wendall would say with a laugh, “that, my friends, can lead to even bigger problems…”
Clay knew that they were definitely heading up the wrong alley. But, he reasoned to himself, his rent was two weeks overdue.
16
As soon as Regan, Kit, and Billy got back in Regan’s car, Kit called Georgina’s boss, who she’d spoken with earlier. But Dexter’s cell phone went right to voice mail. She then called her co-worker whom she’d dubbed “Gail the Gossip.” Gail reported to her that the whole gang was at the bar of the Gates Hotel, including Dexter.
“I grabbed a table the minute the lights went out,” Gail yelled into the phone. “The hotel is serving warm drinks and whatever food might spoil.”
“We’ll be right over,” Kit told her. “We want to talk to Dexter and any other people who worked with Georgina. Ask them to stay until we get there.”
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