“I’m Mr. Stillman, the manager on duty. Are you sure your jewels are missing, madam? Perhaps you misplaced them. Did you check your luggage?”
“Of course I’m sure!” She stomped her foot. “What do you take me for, the village idiot? I left my jewelry spread out on the dresser earlier while I changed into my evening gown. And now...now they’re gone.”
“Everything?” His chubby face fell.
“Well, not everything...My favorite ruby and diamond brooch has disappeared, along with a gold bracelet and earrings. I hope this hotel covers insurance for jewel theft. I’ll have you know these are irreplaceable family heirlooms.” Her voice quivered, her eyes misted.
My heart went out to her. Despite being rich and rude, she’d suffered a loss and I knew how she felt—though fortunately for me, I recovered my bag, thanks to Finn.
Burton approached the woman and identified himself as a law officer—not a Prohibition agent, thank goodness.
I’d seen quite a few flasks whisked out of jacket pockets and their contents poured into drinks tonight.
“Ma’am, if you can provide a description of the jewelry, that would be helpful.”
“Yes, of course.” She turned to the hotel manager. “But first I want you to search your staff, especially the Negroes and the waitresses. I saw one eyeing my necklace earlier tonight.”
I perked up, hoping she meant the blonde vamp who also had her eye on Burton.
Stillman lowered his voice. “Is that really necessary? They were working in the lobby all evening.”
“Your help could have easily seen my hotel keys on the table, and run upstairs while I was in the powder room.”
“Surely your husband noticed or heard something?”
“Clarence? He’s blind as a bat and half-deaf to boot.”
“Very well.” The manager sighed and gathered the wait staff, demanding, “Empty your pockets and purses, please. Just a preliminary precaution.”
Burton gave me an exasperated look, meaning, “Here we go again...”
Reluctantly, the staff complied, emptying their pockets of change and keys, nothing that resembled priceless gems. Too bad the blonde only had lipstick and mad money in her purse.
“There. Are you satisfied now?” Stillman crowed. “We’ll look around the premises to make sure they weren’t misplaced.” Then he said a few words to the band leader and I thought the musicians might be forced to empty their pockets and cases as well. Aha! Did he suspect them of stealing the jewels? Instead, they quickly picked up their instruments and played a soothing jazz tune.
Meanwhile, the matron described her jewels to Burton in great detail while I listened. “The young Texas designer Paul Flato custom-made the ruby brooch for me. A gold and ruby horseshoe with a diamond star, worth a fortune,” she wailed. “You can’t miss his signature style. Signed, of course. He always makes such distinctive pieces...”
Burton stared over her head at me, as if pleading, “Help me.”
I gave him a sympathetic smile, then walked over to the hotel manager, who stood by the restaurant surveying the lobby. After introducing myself, I asked, “Has this happened before at the Galvez?”
“You’re a society reporter? Tell your boss I’d prefer not to make this public.” He cleared his throat. “Naturally, we’ve had a few incidents...the occasional stolen wallets and jewelry, mainly petty theft, not the family jewels. All luxury hotels face that problem on occasion, but we’ve always handled it in-house. Thankfully, the gems usually turn up without any scandal.”
“What a relief. Where do you find them?”
“Most of the time they’re misplaced, under the furniture or in the luggage. Unfortunately, I’ve had to fire a few questionable maids and bellhops.” Stillman pursed his lips. “Don’t forget, mum’s the word.”
“Of course.” Nodding, I gestured toward the musicians. “Where did you find these performers? Are they locals?”
“Actually they came to me. Told me they’re with the vaudeville troupe, but they only play a few nights while they’re in town. Named a price I couldn’t refuse.” Stillman snorted, and mopped his face with a monogrammed hanky. “Now I know why. Still, unless we find proof...”
I blinked in surprise. “You suspect the musicians?”
“Not exactly...yet I wonder if they’re providing cover for their friends.”
“Have you checked inside their cases for the jewelry?” I suggested.
He nodded, giving me a mischievous smile. “Why do you think I asked them to play just now? I’ll definitely look them over before they leave.”
“Good idea. What about the magician? Did you search him or his props?”
Stillman shook his head. “He left after his act, before madam’s jewels were stolen.”
“How convenient. Who did you originally speak to about playing here tonight?”
“As a matter of fact, it was the magician. He waltzed right in last night wearing his top hat, carrying a cane and satchel, as if he’d just come from a performance.”
“Was it after eight o’clock? Did you get his name?”
“Orlando Como—if that’s his real name.” He perked up. “He’s supposed to stop by tomorrow to pick up the check. Perhaps I can search...I mean, question, him then.”
“Apparently he goes by Milo for his acts. I wonder if he has other stage names? What time will he stop by? You could call Agent Burton to help.”
“Burton?” The hotel manager lowered his voice, eyes shifting around nervously. “Isn’t he a...Federal agent? You know...doesn’t he work in a different department?”
“Yes, but since he was here during the theft, I doubt he’d object.”
“Object to what?” Burton placed his hands on my shoulders, towering over me.
Stillman motioned for us to follow him to a hallway, hissing, “I’d like to keep this quiet for now, do you mind?”
“Fine.” Burton got the hint. “Before filing a report, you need to thoroughly search the premises after your guests have retired. Check the plants, furniture, kitchen, laundry room—the works. Examine their rooms after they’ve checked out, using only your most trustworthy staff.”
“I’ll start on it right away.” The hotel manager nodded.
“I hate to bring this up, but do any of your staff members have...a past?” Burton asked. “Have your maids or employees been known to help themselves to your guests’ belongings?”
“Certainly not!” Stillman huffed. “I’m not aware of any criminal wrongdoing. To be safe, I’ll question the restaurant, housekeeping and maintenance managers.”
Burton gave him a card. “Call the station if you need my help. Thanks for the evening.”
“Thank you, Agent Burton.” He gave us a grateful smile. “And your lovely lady, too.”
As we left, Burton grinned at me. “Snooping as usual?”
“Why not? Searching for jewels is more fun than finding dead bodies. Did you notice how quickly Stillman pointed fingers at the jazz band? He must be trying to save his job, as well as the hotel’s spotless reputation.”
Burton nodded. “Easier to blame a bunch of traveling musicians than admit you’ve hired a band of jewel thieves.”
“Do you think Stillman might be in on the scam? Maybe he’s in cahoots with Milo the magician.” I mulled it over. “Think about it—Milo uses fake stage names and left before the woman discovered her jewels were stolen. Very convenient. And he’s always making things disappear. I’ll bet he has a few more tricks up his sleeve.”
Burton cracked a smile. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t vanish into thin air.”
******
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Tuesday
“I heard there was a little mishap at the Hotel Galvez last night.” Mrs. Harper called me over to her desk the next day at work. “Has anything turned up yet?”
Her spies sure stayed busy. So much for keeping quiet about the theft.
“How did you know? The hotel manager didn’t want
anyone to find out.”
“I’m friends with all the luxury hotel managers, including the new Warwick Hotel in Houston. Where do you think I get my tidbits? Now Stillman owes me a favor.” Her cryptic smile spoke volumes. How many more secrets did she hide under her enormous Edwardian hats?
“Let me know if you see or hear anything new. Perhaps your Agent Burton will keep us posted?” Then she handed me a short stack of papers. “Please look these over and make any needed corrections.”
With a sigh, I glanced at the clock and returned to my desk. I hoped Derek hadn’t forgotten about our lunch date in two hours—not an actual date, just an appointment.
Not to worry. At noon on the dot, Derek showed up at the Gazette, standing in the doorway, taking it all in, as if waiting for applause. He always did like to make an entrance. Mrs. Harper crowed a bit too loudly, “Is that tall, dark and handsome man Derek Hammond?”
A cub reporter snickered, echoing, “Over here, tall, dark and handsome!”
Hoping to avoid a scene, I rushed to greet him but Mrs. Harper beat me to the door, cooing, “Why, Derek. It’s been ages! How’s your dear mother?”
I held back and listened to their small talk, while Derek winked at me behind her back.
Nathan whispered, “Does Burton know you’re two-timing him with a villain?”
“You’re all wet. This is a friendly lunch. An interview.”
“Whatever you say, you heartbreaker.” Nathan smiled and retreated to the darkroom.
Derek cocked his elbow. “Ready to go, toots?”
“And how!” I gave a backward glance at the news crew who wriggled their brows at me like Groucho Marx.
Outside, the weather was cool and clear, the skies a bright blue. “Sure is a pretty day. How about a picnic lunch at the park?” I said. “There’s a sandwich vendor nearby.”
His face fell. “I hoped we could dine at some snazzy restaurant, like Gaido’s or the Galvez. For old times’ sake. My treat.”
So Derek wasn’t as broke as I expected. “Thanks, but Burton and I were at the Galvez last night, listening to a jazz band. Do you mind if we go some place private?”
His eyes sparkled. “Private? Sandwiches it is, then.”
Golliwogg trotted behind us, and I reached down to pet her black silky fur, luxurious as a sable coat.
After we ordered a ham and cheese for me, and roast beef on rye for Derek, we settled on a quiet park bench—in fact, the same one where Burton interrogated me just a few months earlier. Naturally I kept my distance, and again used my leather handbag as a barrier.
“So you and Burton are thick as thieves.” Derek studied me as he bit into his sandwich.
“Funny you should say that...” I smiled. “Speaking of, do the vaudeville musicians moonlight on the side? The jazz band at the Galvez last night claimed to be part of the troupe. How do they have time to do both jobs?”
“We welcome extra gigs. The director always keeps new performers on hand, just in case. Draper likes to rotate people and acts, keep them off-balance, so you never know if or when you’ll be on. He claims he wants to try new acts, new players, to keep the show fresh, exciting.”
Derek had confirmed the bassist’s story. “Seems harsh to me. Isn’t that unsettling for the troupe?”
“I’ll say. If we’ve had a bad week or ticket sales are slow, he blames the troupe rather than himself. Between us, I think he’s punishing people for a poor performance.”
A cool breeze bent the lone palm tree, a relic from the 1900 Storm, looking out of place on this November day.
Shivering, I pulled my jacket tight. “Draper sounds like a real bully.”
“You said it.” Derek nodded. “That’s not all. Recently a performer got fresh with a girl half his age. Nothing new. But when she complained to Draper, he called her a diva and fired her on the spot. Then he hired her understudy, a novice with no talent or experience.”
“Who?” I asked, but he ignored my question. “So what happened with Patrick? Did you have a falling out? I heard you had a fight Friday, the night he disappeared.”
“Who told you that?” He snapped to attention.
“Bella, the ballerina. She made it seem like a big knock-down, drag-out brawl.” I had to ask: “Was the fight over her, or another gal?”
“Bella? She’s such a drama queen. She wished we fought over her.” Derek shrugged. “Sure, we had our differences, but we staged that fight on purpose. We were acting out a scene for a short skit Patrick worked on for the show. Guess it seemed convincing.”
I perked up. “A play? Patrick was a writer?”
“He was a jack of all trades. Patrick wanted to do it all. Act, write, direct, produce. Draper was so jealous of his talent, he felt threatened.” Derek scowled.
“I’m sorry. Seems so unfair.” Golliwogg jumped on the bench by me, and I fed her bits of ham. “By the way, do you know if Patrick moonlighted between jobs?”
“We all do, if we can get extra work. The troupe gets paid a pittance and we’ve got to cover expenses somehow.”
“What about the magician, Milo? I may have seen him last night performing tricks at the Galvez.” I decided not to bring up the missing button, yet. Instead, I wanted to pick Derek’s brain, find out how much he knew.
“Milo? I wouldn’t be surprised. His act lasts fifteen minutes at most.”
Enough time to steal jewels or stab an ambitious actor—or both. I took a bite, wondering how to broach the subject. Finally I blurted out: “Is it possible the musicians moonlight in other ways...say, as jewel thieves?”
Derek’s eyes flashed, startled. “Why do you say that?”
After I described last night’s scenario with the missing jewelry, he was quiet for a while.
“Maybe the hotel manager wanted to cover for his staff or he was part of the scam,” I coaxed.
Derek watched the pigeons scurrying around the park, pecking at crumbs. I knew the feeling: Mrs. Harper’s assignments were like leftovers from her gossip buffet. Taking pity on the poor birds, I threw them my bread crusts, watching them bob and coo.
Finally he spoke up. “This is off the record, got it? Let’s just say some people have sticky fingers. But they only steal from rich tourists—those society dames own so many baubles, they don’t notice any jewels missing until they’re home. By then, we’ve moved on to the next town.”
Aha! My eyes and mouth popped open like a cartoon. “There’s a whole ring of jewel thieves in the troupe?”
He gave me a sly smile. “I’d call them opportunists.”
“How do they get away with it?”
“This is all hearsay, right?’ Derek looked around the park as if the trees had ears. “Milo targets wealthy hotel guests—well-off men and showcase wives with their jewels on display—and pockets their room keys, usually sitting out in plain sight. During the break, the musicians steal the jewelry while Milo distracts the guests with his tricks.”
“You don’t say.” I marveled at their audacity. “No one catches him?”
“You’ve seen Milo’s act. He’s an expert at sleight-of-hand tricks. Without his makeup and sparkly costume, he blends right in with the crowd.”
Sounded like Derek knew a lot more than he’d let on. Yet if he was involved in the thefts, why would he expose the tricks of their trade—to a reporter?
“How do you know so much?” I eyed him. “Was Patrick involved?”
“No, Patrick and I stayed away from a life of crime. We wanted to be actors, not cat burglars.” Like a mime, he imitated a burglar getting caught holding a bag of jewels.
“Attaboy.” I recalled the gold charm bracelet the gangsters had carelessly pawned at Cucci Jewelers—or had Colin purposely sold it to them? “So what was Patrick doing at the Oasis that night? And why was he killed?”
Derek paused, his face twisted. “Milo trusted Patrick, so he asked him to do this one favor. They were supposed to meet at the Oasis so Milo could give him a bag of stolen jewelry from our last
stop. Milo didn’t want to get caught giving Patrick the jewels at the theatre.”
“I don’t blame him.” I nodded, recalling Milo’s missing button. “So that was Milo with Patrick—a billboard, as Frank called him. What did he want Patrick to do—pawn the jewels?”
“Patrick was supposed to turn over the jewelry to a fence or a middleman,” he explained. “Milo made sure to leave before the fence showed up. He assumed Patrick had plenty of time to make the drop before his final act.”
“Maybe they wanted to meet in public for an alibi, just in case,” I mused. “But why the Oasis? I heard they had a fight and got kicked out. Any idea what it was about?”
Derek sighed, his shoulders slumped. “Patrick probably was trying to talk Milo out of the whole scheme. He hated the idea of stealing jewelry from our supporters, and he definitely didn’t condone doing business with gangsters. ‘They’ll own us,’ he complained to me. ‘We’ll be forced to do their bidding.’”
“Smart guy. Sounds like Patrick had second thoughts. What did he say after...?”
“Apparently he changed his mind and hid the jewels at the Oasis.”
My head was swimming. “No wonder they kept going back there. Tell me, how do they sell the stolen jewels?”
“Since we’re on the road, the cops can’t easily connect the jewels to the troupe. Then a fence hocks the jewelry, preferably out of town,” Derek explained. “Someone they trust who can’t be traced back to the troupe.”
“Trust? That’s funny coming from a band of jewel thieves. Does the director have any idea these shenanigans are going on behind his back?”
“Draper?” Derek stared at me a full minute before answering. “Hell, I hear the whole operation was his big idea. An easy way to pay for his over-the-top productions.”
******
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Are you razzing me?” I probably looked like a googly-eyed carnival doll, my head spun around so fast. “The director is using stolen jewelry to finance his vaudeville shows?”
Vamps, Villains and Vaudeville Page 12