16) APHRODITE’S FIRST BITE

16) APHRODITE’S FIRST BITE – c.1880 – Chicago

by D.B. Anderson

A “Bruno Clew, Esq., Society Detective Agency” Series Title

Bruno approached the hallway door of his Society Detective Agency with some caution as he noticed a well attired, but somewhat unkempt young man pacing back and forth, holding a long, rolled up something or other wrapped in canvas. The young man’s expression was awash with deep stress, his eye sockets darkened as if he hadn’t slept for some time.

“May I be of assistance, sir?” Bruno asked, unlocking his office door. “I am Detective Bruno Clew. Please enter.”

The young man released a deep breath and followed behind Bruno. His voice was somewhat unsure of itself. “Detective Clew, my name is Fritz Vieau. I recall your detective agency being mentioned among my father’s friends and acquaintances as an excellent person to consult regarding personal matters since you hold such matters strictly confidential. I now require you to deliver something of great value to the Charles Vieau residence as swiftly as possible.” Before Bruno could remove his bowler and place it and his silver bear head walking cane on the end table by the door, the young man handed him the rolled up item he was carrying. “Sir, this is a very valuable Helgaard oil painting belonging to my father.” The young man then lowered his head, perspiration now wetting his forehead, and he appeared somewhat ill. “I fear I stole it from him along with two other Helgaards.”

Bruno quickly placed the guest’s reception chair behind the young man. “Please be seated, sir, and start your story from the beginning,” Bruno gently spoke; unwinding the painting to find a misty rendering of a beach with huge waves crashing onto the sand. “How life like,” Bruno stated. “I don’t believe I have ever heard of the artist. You said his name is Helgaard?”

“The painting is sixteenth century by a Danish artist. It is conservatively worth about $25,000. The other two Helgaards fall in the same price range.”

Bruno sat behind his desk removing a fresh bag of chocolate semi sweet chunks from the right pocket of his suit coat. “Please enjoy some chocolate. It is very invigorating.”

The young man unconsciously removed a piece of the chocolate and placed it into his parched mouth. The sweetness of the chocolate immediately made his eyes widen somewhat. “My that is tasty.”
It was very apparent to Bruno that Mr. Fritz Vieau hadn’t been eating properly, and Bruno again noticed his suit, although of some quality, was quite unkempt. He appeared as someone completely beside himself, definitely mentally distressed. “Would you care to join me for some lunch while we talk?”

“No, no; no time for that,” he quickly responded, pointing to the unrolled seascape on Bruno’s desk. “Please deliver this accursed thing to my mother.” He then reached into his suit coat inner vest pocket and removed an envelope, “Also please be so kind as to give her this letter. The address is here on the envelope.” He paused, and then pleadingly added. “I can not pay you for your service at this time, but will tender payment to you in a few days. I hope that is acceptable?”

“Not to worry,” Bruno softly responded. “I’ll tend to the matter right off.” Bruno then paused. “You did mention there were three paintings in all. May I ask of the disposition of the other two oils?”

The young man eagerly reached for another semi sweet chocolate chunk. “I placed them with an art broker, a Mr. Flurrie Peoples. He specializes in the private sale of very expensive art.”

Bruno placed the silver bear head of his walking cane under his chin in quiet contemplation, and then almost whispered, “Mr. Flurrie Peoples you say. I don’t believe I am familiar with the gentleman…” Bruno then shook his head in doubt. “Another point; wouldn’t it be far more desirable to return all three paintings at one time?”

The young man regained his sickly pallor. “That is quite another matter, Detective Clew. I tried reclaiming them from Mr. Peoples and he insists he has a client interested in the Helgaards, and will be out a 20% commission if he returns them now which amounts to approximately $5,000.”

“But they are actually not your paintings to sell!” Bruno accentuated. “This Mr. Flurrie Peoples would in fact be selling stolen property.”

The young man nodded his head in agreement. “It is certainly a matter I will have to clear up, but for now I wish to return this Helgaard to mother with the letter I gave you.”

Bruno stared at the pathetic expression engulfing the lad’s face. “Perhaps I might also be of aide in seeing that the other two Helgaards are returned to you by this Mr. Peoples.”

The young man’s face suddenly lit with disbelief. “That would be magnificent!” He then lowered his head. “But remember I am unable to pay you for your services at this time.”

“I understand.”

“When might I return to find out how your meeting transpired with my mother?”

“In a few hours should be just fine.”

The young man released a very deep sigh of relief, his face now finally flushing with at least a miniscule amount of relaxation. “Thank you, sir. You are a true gentleman,” he responded, quickly spinning about and exiting the office, almost smiling now.

Bruno shook his head in wonder at it all. “Some sort of family distress, that is for sure,” he mumbled to himself. He then rolled up the painting in its canvas covering, arose from his desk still wearing his bowler, tightly grasped his silver bear head walking cane in his right hand, carefully held the rolled painting In his left hand and hurried from his office to call on Mrs. Martin Vieau.

The Vieau mansion was an elegant, two-story, Regency design with an octagonal window over the front entrance. A short, thin, elderly lady dressed in a black, long sleeve dress, with a white lace collar and cuffs, gazed somewhat sternly at Bruno.

Bruno tipped his hat in greeting. “I am Private Detective Bruno Clew of the Society Detective Agency. May I see Mrs. Vieau, the mistress of the house, please?”

“I am she,” she responded rather sternly, and then noticed the rolled up item in his left hand and her two beady, dark toned eyes grew twice their size.

Bruno reached into his suit coat breast pocket and removed the envelope Fritz Vieau had given him to deliver. “The letter is from your son.”

She anxiously plucked the envelope from Bruno’s fingers. “Please enter.”

Bruno followed her a short ways down a long, oak wainscoted hallway and into a parlor room containing several plants, and a sewing desk with several swatches of cloth, needles and thread spools spread about. She excitedly tore the letter open and read its contents. She then sat at the sewing table, her stern aged face softening with paternal love.

“Is he all right, Detective Clew?”

“First off,” Bruno politely responded, “I must say I do not personally know the contents of the letter I’ve delivered to you, nor did I have any part or parcel in writing it. Secondly,” and now Bruno gently smiled, “I can say with all sincerity that I feel your son desperately wishes to return home. He is very repentant, and quite frankly frightened you may not welcome him back.”

“Was ‘she’ with him?” Mrs. Vieau tartly asked.

Bruno gazed at her with curiosity and then explained, “Mrs. Vieau, my first and only meeting with your son took place not an hour ago at my office. He was waiting for me at ten a.m. He appeared greatly distressed, and frankly unkempt in appearance. He explained with great difficulty that he in essence stole the three Helgaard oil paintings from his parents home, and at no time mentioned anything of a female companion of any sort.”

Mrs. Vieau read the letter once again as Bruno quietly waited for her to speak. “Detective Clew, my husband passed away two months ago in a boating accident and Fritz, just recently turned fifteen, became depressed and began drinking and staying out late at night. He then brought a dance hall girl home, and wildly insisted they were going to be married. We had quite a to-do about it, and he snatched the three Helgaards off the library walls, and disappeared into the night with his ‘dance hall girl.’ That was ten days ago.”

Bruno nodded his head in compassion over the situation. “I can say now, albeit we only spoke for a short while, that he is extremely sorry for acting in the horrendous way he did.” Bruno then paused. “The tragedy of his father’s untimely death obviously greatly confused him, and that coupled with his emergence into manhood at fifteen was a bit more than any lad of that age could cope with. It was inevitable that he feel the lure of Aphrodite’s First Bite, so to speak. And to exacerbate matters, he had no father to confide in.” Bruno then gazed pleadingly into Mrs. Vieau’s small, beady dark eyes. “He direly requires your affection.”

Mrs. Vieau released a deep sigh. “Of course, have him return immediately.”

Bruno arose from his chair. “Regarding the remaining two Helgaard oil paintings… Your son, in his frenzy, placed them in the care of a Mr. Flurrie Peoples, a private art broker dealing only in the sale of masterpieces. Your son told me he asked Mr. Peoples to return the Helgaards to him, that he had changed his mind to sell them, and Mr. Peoples refused. Mr. Peoples claims he has a potential buyer for the three paintings, and will not relinquish them until the sales is finalized or not. He did state he would return the paintings immediately if he is paid the $5,000 commission he would have made from the sale.”

Mrs. Vieau’s forehead wrinkled in shock. “Isn’t that illegal?”

Bruno shrugged his shoulders. “I’m afraid Mr. Peoples has a right to his commission.”

“But my son took the paintings without my permission!”

“You could take the matter to court.”

Mrs. Vieau’s expression suddenly tuned confused. “No, I do not wish any publicity.”

“I am returning to my office now to meet with your son, and tell him the wonderful news that he may return home. Next, I will pay Mr. Peoples a visit and become acquainted with the gentleman. I’ll do my best to retrieve your Helgaards, but I fear the only way it will happen is for you to reclaim them for $5,000.”

“What if his potential buyer changed his or her mind about purchasing?”

Bruno shook his head in doubt. “Mrs. Vieau, I am just surmising but I fear Mr. Peoples will drag this matter out for just as long as he so pleases.”
Mrs. Vieau nodded her head in understanding. “So be it. The three Helgaards were favorites of my darling husband. I want them back in the library where he spent many enjoyable hours. Will you handle the matter for me?” She then moved to her writing desk in the parlor. “Would a bank draft be acceptable?”

Bruno reluctantly shook his head negatively. “I’m afraid his type would only accept cash.”

She nodded in agreement, and then moved to the far wall, removed a small painting of a kitten, and exposed a round wall safe. She reached in her pocket for a ring of keys and opened the safe, removing five stacks of banded cash. She placed them on the sewing table in front of Bruno. “We may as well get this all taken care of today,” she said, almost smiling now. “The last ten days have been pure purgatory.” She then gently touched the top of Bruno’s right hand as he retrieved the last wad of cash to place it into his suit coat pocket. “Thank you, Detective Clew.”

Bruno quickly moved to the parlor door. “I should have the paintings back for you by this evening, and your son will return home in about one hour’s time.”

Bruno found Fritz Vieau pacing in front of his office door and related the happy news that his mother was waiting for him with open arms. Fritz’s anxiety ridden expression flushed with relief and joy, he let out a primeval yelp, and ran from Bruno’s sight and down the building stairway as a gazelle in full trot.

Bruno freshened up in his office and then slowly strolled to Mr. Flurrie People’s flat on Seagull Boulevard, two blocks from Lake Michigan. It was a pleasant early May day, about fifty degrees with a slight breeze, and Bruno felt exhilaration filling his body from the walk, and the positive way matters were progressing with the case. He also admittedly was looking forward with great anticipation to make the acquaintance of this Mr. Flurrie Peoples, Art Broker, having an uncanny sense that he was about to meet, and match wits with, a new adversary.

Mr. Peoples flat occupied the lower floor of a huge, ornate, multi-colored Queen Anne structure awash with fish scale shingles, steep cross-gabled roofs, a tower with a weather vane moving to and fro at the peek of its conical roof, and a massive wrap-around porch.

Bruno was quite delighted at the architectural spectacle since most of the mansions in the area were constructed of drab gray stone blocks. Bruno actually smiled with delight as he knocked on the front door. He then waited about a minute and knocked once more and the huge brown enameled door opened. A very thin, short, well-suited gentleman of middle age, wearing wire rim spectacles, glanced up and down at Bruno’s attire, and then held his gaze at Bruno’s silver bear head walking cane.

“Mr. Flurrie Peoples?” Bruno asked.

“I am he,” Mr. Peoples responded while pointing to Bruno’s cane. “Magnificent cane there. The bear’s head is very charming. Does it hold some special significance? Perhaps a presentation cane?”

Bruno chuckled. “I am Private Detective Bruno Clew of the Society Detective Agency.” He then held the bear head of his cane in the air before Mr. Peoples’ eyes. “Certain adversaries of mine nick named me the ‘bear’ for the way I look and act when in hot pursuit of a criminal.”

Mr. Peoples smiled broadly. “Please enter, sir.”

Bruno followed Mr. Peoples down a short hallway, and then Mr. Peoples parted two-wall pocket doors and Bruno found himself in a spacious sitting room, adorned with antique furniture and the walls dressed with a dozen or more oil paintings of various size and shape.

“What an absolutely magnificent room!” Bruno exclaimed.

“Well, thank you, Detective Clew. This is actually my show room. I deal only in very high end oils, and sell them by appointment only.”

“I have to admit while walking here I expected to find a sign out front noting that you are an art broker or such.”

Mr. Peoples grinned. “How may I serve you, sir?”

Bruno gazed sternly into Mr. Peoples bespectacled eyes. “I am here on behalf of Mrs. Martin Vieau regarding the two Helgaard paintings you are selling for her son.”

Mr. Peoples expression turned a bit worried as he sat in a chair behind his desk and motioned for Bruno to be seated in a chair next to the desk. “Detective Clew, the lad was here and demanded his paintings be returned to him. I explained I have a possible buyer in queue, and it may be several days before the buyer makes up his mind to buy or not, and consequently the young man will just have to wait, or he has the alternative to give me the commission I would make from the sale which is $5,000 and I will immediately return his paintings.” Mr. Peoples then shrugged his shoulders. “I am sure you understand I am in business to make a profit.”

Bruno raised his silver bear head walking cane under his chin, and spoke calmly. “Quite so, but the young man was very agitated when he brought you the paintings. He was beside himself.”

“That is not my fault, sir.”

“Did he provide you with identification of ownership?”

Mr. Peoples now slyly grinned. “He said he would bring his ownership papers at a later date.”

Now Bruno slyly grinned, reaching into his suit coat side breast pocket and removed a rather hefty envelope. “I have your $5,000 commission here,” Bruno softly spoke. “You must give me your word that this entire affair is entirely confidential.”

Mr. Peoples eyed the bulging envelope in surprise. “All of my transactions are entirely confidential, Detective Clew.”

“As indeed are all of my investigations,” Bruno responded with an intentional smirk. “Please address me by my first name which is Bruno.”

Mr. Peoples returned the intentional smirk. “Do address me as Flurrie.”

Bruno placed the bulky envelope of cash on the desk before Flurrie, but held his right hand clinched into a fist on top of the envelope. “The Helgaards, please.”

Mr. Peoples immediately arose, and moved to the far wall removing two rather large landscape paintings from their hangers. He placed them before Bruno on the desktop. Bruno attempted to remain nonchalant, not actually knowing if what he was viewing were Helgaards or not. He then noticed Flurrie had something of a playful demeanor about him now. Bruno decided to play the game, now suddenly remembering the Helgaard Fritz View gave him to deliver to his mother was a seascape.

“These certainly do not look like seascapes to me,” Bruno confidently spoke.

Flurrie then chuckled, turning the paintings round about and exposing two smaller seascape paintings lodged into the stretchers of the large paintings. “Your Helgaards, Monsieur.”

Bruno arose from the chair next to the desk and handed Flurrie the bulging envelope of cash. “Your commission, Monsieur.”

Bruno then took possession of the Helgaards and moved to the hallway. He then paused, spun about, and reached into his side coat pocket and removed a small bundle of cash, waiving it in the air. “Oh, and thank you for the $500.00 fee I charged you to complete the transaction.”

Mr. Flurrie Peoples at first appeared surprised, but then smiled, and saluted Bruno.