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JACK'S BEANSTALK - EPISODE 3 - THE THEFT

diamonds, mystery, theft

Episode 3 – Theft

“I have been hired by Con Life to investigate the disappearance of Mr. Brewer’s wife’s diamond necklace.”

The attorney spoke again, “The valuable necklace was stolen by thieves.”

“Maybe so, Mr. Hopper, maybe so.”

Jack looked at the diminutive, shy man sitting behind the desk. “Mr. Brewer, tell me what happened when the necklace disappeared.”

The attorney interrupted, “All that information should be in the police report, Mr. Hamilton.”

Jack’s temper started to rise. “Mr. Brewer, can you think of anyone who would want to steal your wife’s necklace?”

The attorney looked at Brewer. “Mr. Brewer believes a gang of international jewel thieves took the necklace.”

Jack blew up. “Mr. Brewer. Do you have a voice or do I have to listen to this talking head all day?”

Hopper spoke up, “Now, see here . . . .”

Jack stood up. “I am leaving. I will inform Com Life you have been uncooperative and obstructive. Con Life may decline your claim for compensation.”

The attorney stood up. “If Con Life won’t pay, we’ll sue.”

“Go ahead,” said Jack. “Three years from now you’ll still be in court.”

Jack started towards the door.

“Wait, Mr. Hamilton,” urged Johnson Brewer.

Jack stopped at the door. “What?”

Brewer stood up. “Please sit down. I’ll answer any of your questions.”

“Get rid of your legal mouth and I’ll sit down.”

Brewer looked at Hopper. “Hopper, please leave us. I’ll take care of this matter.”

“But Mr. Brewer . . . ,” whined the attorney.

“Just leave,” replied Brewer.

The attorney slammed the door as he left.

Jack laughed, “He seems a bit touchy.”

“Attorneys are always touchy,” replied Brewer. “Drink?”

“Sure,” responded Jack as he licked his parched lips.

“Name your poison.”

Brewer went to the sideboard and poured two tall drinks. He handed Jack one of the tall glasses. “Here. This will slack your thirst.”

Jack eyed the amber liquid and took a small sip. “Smooth, real smooth. Bourbon?”

“No. Scotch. Thirty year old Scotch from my distillery in Scotland, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Call me Jack.”

“Okay, Jack. Call me, John. That’s short for Johnson.”

“Well, John. What’s the story?”

“We took the overnight boat from Havana.”

“Who’s we?”

“My wife, Shirley, her maid, Irene, Gaston, my butler, and myself.”

“Four people?”

“Yes. There was a big dance that night on the boat and Shirley wanted to go. I hate dances. And besides, I had already set up a poker game with some fellows in the game room. Shirley had some friends on the boat, so she decided to go with them to the dance.”

“What were the friends’ names?”

“Let’s see . . . . I believe their names were Richardson, the Newport Richardsons.

“Ah, yes. The Newport Richardsons,” replied Jack.

“Do you know them?” asked Brewer.

“By reputation only.”

“Oh!”

“Please continue,” said Jack.

“Shirley was getting dressed. First, she was going to wear the emeralds, but Irene pointed out that the diamonds would accent her dress better. So Shirley wore the diamond necklace.”

“The dance ended at two o’clock but Shirley left earlier. I know because she stopped by the game room to wish me a good night. I looked at the clock and it read a little after one.”

“The poker game finished at four and I returned to our state room. Shirley was asleep and I tried not to awaken her. Next morning, Irene, the maid, came into the room about nine o’clock. That’s when we discovered the necklace was missing.”

“Who discovered the diamonds were missing?”

“I suppose Shirley did. She got out of bed and walked to the dressing table. Looking over the table, she screamed. I got out of bed and ran to the table asking what was wrong. She said she couldn’t find the necklace.”

“Then what did you do?” asked Jack taking a large gulp of whiskey.

“I called Gaston and the four of us searched the room from top to bottom. We tore everything apart.”

“So sometime between one o’clock and nine o’clock, the necklace disappeared. Did you notice anything wrong when you came into the room at four?”

“No. I didn’t turn on any lights because I didn’t want to awaken Shirley. I changed in the bathroom.”

“Who had keys to your state room?”

“Shirley and I were the only ones with keys.”

“Can I talk to Shirley, now?” asked Jack.

“Well. You can but you’ll have to travel to the Smokey Mountains in North Carolina. She was so upset; she went to take the ‘Cure’ at a health spa.”

“What about her maid, Irene?”

“Irene has family in Tampa. She went home when Mrs. Brewer left for North Carolina. I don’t have an address.”

“Okay. I’ll track Irene down. What’s her last name?”

“Mason. Irene Mason.”

Published: 2010-06-12
Author: Fred Westmark

About the author or the publisher
Fred W. is a freelance writer of six film scripts, three novels, twenty-five short stories, and many blogs. He enjoys football and reading English authors. Traveling is a passion for him. He also writes articles on privacy for an Internet newsletter on freebooter.com.

He is an avid and serious student of history. His favorite historical characters are Skooby Doo and Dr Who. Seriously, the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, and the French and American Revolution interest him.

He teaches collegW

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