The Case of the Scarlet Brooch
Chapter 11"What do you think?" Jeff asked his partner as they drove back to Hollywood.
"About the brooch?"
"About the one we found."
Stu shook his head slightly. He was driving and wasn't about to take his eyes off the road. "I'm not making any decisions until we get the analysis on it."
"Fair enough," Jeff responded. "What did you think of Lilith?"
There was silence for a minute, followed by a small chuckle and a smile from Stu. "I think she's probably the only one with any sense in the family. And she's a lovely lady."
"Not going to bet on Prudence, eh?"
"Not from the things I've heard. Of course, I've been wrong before."
Jeff didn't disagree with his partner. "I think we've got a handful with Prudence, whether she's involved in this whole brooch thing or not."
"Jamie seems to be alright." That was Stu's observation after spending a day in Del Mar.
"Arden was nice enough in the whole two minutes I spent with him. But Tabitha . . . dear God, Tabitha. She'd drive anybody over the edge." Jeff just shook his head, thinking about his encounter with Tabitha Huntington. "Arden needs to put her on a leash."
"Well, we need to see Prudence, whether we want to or not. But I don't think we should go until we've got the lab analysis back. Agreed?" Stu asked.
"No problem," from Jeff.
They stopped at the police lab on the way to Sunset Strip and left the brooch for analysis. It was mid-afternoon when they got back to the office. "Must be some case," Kookie remarked as Stu and Jeff got out of the car.
"Oh, it is," Stu told him.
"Hey, Suzanne," Jeff greeted their receptionist. "Any messages?"
"Bonjour, Jeff, Stu. Here are your messages," and she handed several to each man. The top one in Jeff's stack caught his eye and he groaned.
"Iris Huntington?" Stu inquired.
"Worse," Jeff replied. "Tabitha Huntington."
"Do you want me to call her?"
"Would you? I'll owe you one."
"If she's as bad as you say she is, you'll owe me more than one."
Jeff handed Stu the message. "Fair enough."
Stu went into his office and closed the door. It was almost twenty minutes later when he emerged. He looked as if he'd just taken a beating. "That bad?" Jeff asked, already knowing the answer.
"She made my phone sweat," Stu gasped. "Where in the world did he find her? At the bottom of the sewer?"
"I have no idea," Jeff answered. "But I think he should send her back."
"I was going to call Jillian, but I better wait. I think I need a cold shower first."
"Was she really that bad?" Jeff asked.
Stu had to laugh a little. "No, but she was close. She wanted to know when you were coming back to see them and was very disappointed when I told her I didn't think that would be necessary."
"Thank God. Listen, the lab called. They said the analysis would be ready tomorrow, so we can call Prudence and make an appointment for Thursday. I'll do that as soon as I follow up on a couple of these calls. Any time in particular you want to go?"
"No. Anytime you want is good for me."
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They were on their way to Prudence Simington's on Thursday morning; Jeff was driving and Stu was drinking coffee. "Late night last night?" the driver asked.
"Early morning this morning," Stu answered.
"Jillian?"
"No," Stu shook his head. "Trying to figure out the whole purpose of the case of the scarlet brooch. Surely Prudence Simington has more than enough money to buy something similar to the brooch. Even to have one created exactly like it made out pf real rubies. If she's responsible, why such an elaborate charade? And if she's not, who is?"
"All good questions," Jeff replied, "none of which I have answers to. I think we'll just have to wait and see what 'dear Prudence' has to say."
"And what if she doesn't have anything to say?"
Jeff had to laugh at Stu's persistence. "Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you?"
"I guess so. I was just going to help you out. Now I'm in it up to my eyebrows."
"Think of it this way . . . if you hadn't decided to help me out, you never would have met the girl with the green eyes."
"Hmmm – Jillian. You're right, I wouldn't have."
They finished the drive to Marina Del Rey in relative silence. When they got to the address they realized Lilith was correct . . . Prudence lived on an estate. The 'house' covered close to a whole city block. Within seconds of ringing the bell, an impeccably dressed butler appeared at the door. "Yes, may I help you?"
Stu passed his and Jeff's business cards to the butler, telling him, "Stu Bailey and Jeff Spencer to see Mrs. Simington. We have an appointment."
The butler looked at the business cards and sniffed. "Come in, please." He led them down an elaborate hallway and into what must have served as the parlor. "Wait here, please." Almost five minutes passed before the butler returned. "Follow me please, gentlemen." They were taken to a gargantuan living room. "Have a seat, please, gentlemen. Mrs. Simington will be down directly." He started to leave the room and then turned back. "Would you gentlemen care for coffee?"
"Yes, please," Stu answered, and Jeff nodded. The coffee arrived courtesy of a maid, who carried a silver coffee service with china cups and saucers. Both men had started on their beverage by the time Mrs. Simington made her presence known.
She swept down the stairs, a vision in a flowing purple floor-length peignoir, her hair falling like soft butter on her shoulders. Both men set aside their cups and stood as Prudence entered the room. "Please, gentlemen, sit down. Mr. Spencer?" she asked, looking at Jeff.
"Yes, ma'am."
"And that means you are Mr. Bailey," taking a good look at Stu.
"I am, Mrs. Simington."
"Well, Mother called and was trying to explain what this was all about, but I'm afraid all she did was confuse me. Mr. Bailey, can you please tell me?"
"Actually, it's Mr. Spencer's case. I think he should explain it to you."
So Jeff started his tale, which began when Iris Huntington entered the offices of Baily and Spencer, Private Investigators, and engaged Jeff's services to find her missing scarlet brooch. It then continued through all of the visits and interviews that he and Stu conducted, and ended when they got the lab report on the brooch that they found at Lilith Quince's residence. "And what did that report have to say about it?" Prudence asked.
"It said that the brooch was made of red glass. The highest quality, mind you, but still, glass."
"I don't believe that. Why would Lilith have a copy of Mother's brooch made of glass?"
"We're attempting to answer that very question."
"Why are you here today?"
Jeff spoke up again. "We're here to examine your mother's jewelry box."
"But that's locked!" Prudence protested.
"And who has the key?" Stu interjected.
"Uh, umm, I do."
Jeff exchanged looks with Stu. "Mrs. Simington? We need to see the jewelry box."
"You're not the police. I don't have to show it to you!"
"Do you have a phone that I can use?" Jeff asked politely.
"Right over there," Prudence pointed to a phone on the other side of the room.
"Thank you." Jeff went to the phone and dialed a number. It rang for a minute, then Jeff asked, "Mrs. Huntington? Yes, ma'am, this is Jeff Spencer. We're at your daughter's house. Yes, ma'am, Prudence. No, she told us that she didn't have to show it to us. Yes, ma'am." Jeff held out the receiver. "Mrs. Simington, your mother would like to speak with you. Mrs. Simington?"
Prudence finally got up and crossed the room to take the receiver Jeff was holding out to her. "Mother? Yes, Mother. But it's none of their . . . yes, Mother. No, I don't see why . . . no. I'm not going to. But I . . . oh, Mother. No, I know . . . alright, if you insist. Yes. Yes. Goodbye, Mother." Prudence laid the receiver back down on the phone and reluctantly turned to the two men waiting for her, allowing a big sigh to escape. "If you'll follow me, please." She swept out of the living room and up the grand staircase, Spencer and Bailey trailing her like puppy dogs.
Once they got upstairs she took the first door to the left. It was Iris Huntington's bedroom, bigger and far grander than any of those they'd seen thus far. At the far side of the room stood a duplicate of the first locked jewelry box either of the men had seen. As they walked across the space, Stu put out his hand. "The key, Mrs. Simington."
Prudence sighed again and pulled the chain that held the key from around her neck, handing it to Stu. He made quick work of unlocking the box and pulling out the fourth drawer, then flipping the switch; the concealed compartment opened. Stu stared into the drawer for nearly a minute; he almost couldn't believe his eyes. There were two brooches in front of him . . . one a fiery red and the other a paler duplicate of the first. Finally, he passed the drawer to Jeff. The two private investigators studied each other for a few seconds before Jeff asked, "What are you doing with two brooches, Mrs. Simington?"