Copyright
© 2005 D.B. Anderson All rights reserved
The front door to Bruno's
‘Society Detective Agency’ swung open with such ferocity that he felt his life
was in certain peril, and he began to reach for the Derringer pistol in his
center desk drawer. He was then somewhat relieved to find Miss
Jessica Wyncroft, a recently divorced forty-five year old heiress, all a
flutter before him.
"Detective Clew, Chomper, my pedigree
Terrier, has been kidnapped and I received a ransom note asking for
$50.00!"
Her trembling right hand
placed a slip of half crumpled paper on his desktop. Bruno gazed down at a very neatly printed
note:
Ma'm,
I have kidnapped your
doggie. Leave $50.00 at the
The ‘Napper
"$50.00?" Bruno
asked in surprise.
Miss Wyncroft’s beautiful violet-blue eyes
were enlarged with rage. "Yes,
$50.00! The insult of it all! Chomper is a special line pedigree worth two
thousand dollars. He is also wearing a
sapphire encrusted collar worth $1,000.”
Bruno shook his head in
wonder at it all. “Obviously the ‘Napper doesn’t realize the value of the
collar, or he would have merely purloined it and that would be that. No dog ‘napping would be required.”
Miss Wyncroft raised her eyes
in frustration. “Detective Clew I have
already pieced out that part of this horrible insult to my family name!”
Bruno grunted, nodding his
head in agreement. "It sounds like
the work of an amateur. Perhaps even a
youngster. Are you sure this is not a
prank of some sort?"
Her face suddenly turned red
as a beet. "The appointment at the
library is but one hour away! I wish you
to accompany me incase there is foul play!" She then reached for Bruno's derby resting on
the stand next to the coat rack, slapped it onto his pate, and then quickly
handed him his silver bear head walking cane and dragged him behind her by his
suit coat lapels. "Time is
wasting."
Being a bachelor all of his
life Bruno sometimes wondered what it would be like having a creature of the
opposite and delicate sex round and about to see after him, fuss over him and
such. He now felt like a bull being
forcefully led by a tether attached to a metal ring in his nose. As he obediently trailed behind her to her
waiting carriage, after being muscled from his place of business, singular
bliss once again was immensely appealing.
Bruno and Miss Wyncroft
arrived at the
"Perhaps we can return
to the mansion before the thief arrives to return Chomper,” she stated, now
taking a few deep breaths herself in the excitement of it all, “and when he
arrives you might then beat him to a bloody pulp.”
Bruno grinned. "That would be enjoyable."
As they approached the huge
mansion they heard a sharp yapping noise, as a small dog would bark when
excited. Miss Wyncroft sighed in relief
as she found her terrier, Chomper, tied to a hedge near the front door.
Bruno grinned as Miss
Wyncroft almost flung herself to her knees to untie her terrier, first noticing
his $1,000 sapphire encrusted collar was intact, and then caressing him as he
licked her face in exhilaration upon seeing his mistress. She gazed up at Bruno with some slight
tearing to her eyes.
"Thank you Detective
Clew. Job well done."
Bruno helped her to her feet
as she held Chomper in a near death grip, not wanting to lose him again. They then entered the mansion and she called
out, "Franklin, where are you?"
She smiled somewhat embarrassed at Bruno. "Franklin is my houseman. Unfortunately he is about eighty years old,
and was promised employment here by my father until he dies or wishes to
retire. Unfortunately, he wishes to do
neither."
As they entered the library
of the mansion they stood in shock as they found Franklin tied in an easy chair
in front of the fireplace. Bruno
immediately rushed to untie Franklin.
Miss Wyncroft then
shrilled, “My three Friar Eppingham
farming scenes are gone! Stripped off
the walls!”
Miss Wyncroft then
frantically moved to the wall safe and sighed in relief as she found it
unopened. She then rushed to her writing
desk, opened the center drawer, and reached underneath the drawer and come up
with a key. She rushed back to the safe
and opened it to make doubly sure it had not been violated.
"The contents are
intact..."
Bruno untied Franklin who sat
trembling. "Madam, a young man,
perhaps in his late teenage years, wearing a red bandana over his lower face
overpowered me, tied me up, and robbed your paintings." He then lowered his head into his cupped
hands. "I am so ashamed. I tried fighting him..." he stated,
nervously gulping on his words.
Bruno then grasped Franklin's
trembling left shoulder with his right hand and squeezed very tightly to steady
him. "Take a deep breath, friend. Breath slowly. Did he enter other rooms of the mansion?"
Franklin's tired, sorrowful
brown eyes moved back and forth from Bruno to Miss Wyncroft. "I don't believe so. I am not sure."
"No!" Miss Wyncroft
then wildly screamed, startling both Bruno and Franklin, and she rushed from
the library and bounded like a young gazelle up the wide stairway of the front
hallway. She could be heard frantically
dashing about upstairs and then there was silence. Bruno moved about her library searching for
any clues; something the thief might have dropped by mistake, something left
behind in error, but no such luck was to be had. Miss Wyncroft slowly made her way down the
stairway and into the library.
"All else appears to be
in place,” she stated, her lovely face awash in confusion and distress. “One would think having the opportunity the
thief would have pilfered the entire mansion.”
She paused in thought, and then her expression became defiant. "How dare he! Is he telling me the rest of my treasures
aren't worthy enough to rob?" She
stared at Bruno in disbelief. "When
you find him – destroy him!”
"Certainly," Bruno
replied barely hearing her order, for he was now wringing his hands together in
glee at the mystery of it all. "One
wonders if our naive note writer committed the dog napping for the sport of
it. Having some fun as it were."
Miss Wyncroft wildly threw
her arms into the air. "The
paintings are worth $100,000! How could
you allow this to happen? You are a
detective!"
Bruno raised his hands in a
defensive gesture, backing away from her.
"Let's think this out rationally.
Your pedigree Terrier was purloined and the ransom note you received was
obviously written to get you out of the mansion. The thief then entered the mansion, tied up
Franklin, and stole the valuable paintings from your library only. He did not disturb the remainder of your
magnificent mansion. So he did have a
theft plan. He definitely was not here
to generally loot the premises. Also,
one wonders if he hadn’t been here before.
After all, he did know the existence and location of your
paintings." Bruno stroked his chin
in contemplation. "Franklin had the impression he was a teenager.” Bruno then paused, staring at Franklin. “Where his clothes and boots of better
quality?”
Franklin momentarily
pondered. “Why yes, as a matter of fact
he was very smartly turned out, in a leisurely sort of way.”
Bruno glanced to Miss Wyncroft
and nodded his head. “Well there you
are; a bored teenager from a better family in that age where boredom sets in
very swiftly and he has the deep urge to test his mettle. Challenge himself as it were. Perhaps completing the paintings robbery on
a dare to see if he could get away with it.
Boys, rich or poor, in his age group do all sorts of stupid things, and
usually to prove their manliness to a young lady.” Bruno teasingly grinned. “I’m sure as a young lady, a very beautiful
young lady, you had an entire cadre of young bucks jumping through hoops at
your command.”
Miss Wyncroft smiled, and
then frowned. “Bruno, let’s remain
focused now. The paintings are worth
$100,000, and whether he is a rich young man, or a penniless wretch, I want my
paintings back, and I want them back now!" she commanded.
"So be it," Bruno
agreed. "I'll immediately notify my
old chums at the police station."
"No! No police!” she ordered with sudden
alarm. “Handle this on your own. And be subtle about it. I trust you are capable of subtlety?"
"I'll attend to it
immediately," Bruno responded, gritting his teeth, as he hurried to the
door, quite frankly pleased to rid himself of her at least for now. “No police,” he muttered. “She probably purchased the paintings
illegally.”
Twenty minutes later Bruno
entered the front door of the Yardarm House Sleeping Rooms and made his way up
the rickety one flight of wooden stairs to room number three, listened at the
door and heard silence. He then tapped
on the thin wooden door with his silver bear head walking cane, smiling as he
heard some grumbling from within. The
door swung open and his diminutive friend and sometimes associate, Sammy ‘The
Mole’ Plankowski grinned up at him exposing his yellow teeth.
"Bear! It's been awhile. Is your agency running out of business?"
Bruno glanced in at the
sleeping room and was surprised to find it quite tidy, and then entered. "I need you for a case, Sammy."
Bruno then explained the entire incident
to Sammy who immediately smiled.
"It sure does sound like an amateur kid. And as you say probably a rich kid with
nothing better to do."
"Yes, Sammy, but the
paintings are worth about $100,000."
“$100,000!” Sammy repeated,
choking on the words. He then paused to
stroke the gray stubble on his chin with his right hand. "I'll do some checking for us among my
friends, but if this is a rich kid feeling his oats I won't be of much
help. I don't exactly travel in those
circles." He paused again. "There is a new fella in town, a Mr.
Flurrie Peoples. He confidentially buys
and sells high priced art for the rich folks.
Rumor has it that some of the art he handles is not quite legal.”
Bruno listened intently, and
with more than a little surprise.
"Flurrie Peoples you say? I
wonder how his starting up his art business pandering to the elite passed me
by?"
"He just got going on it about two
months ago," Sammy added. "He
is a thin bookkeeper looking guy, about fifty or so. You might have even seen him around and not
noticed him. He's one of those people
that blend right into a crowd."
Bruno chuckled. "Excellent cover for someone in his
trade. Do you have an address on
him?"
"The Field Apartment
Building on Third and Rush Avenue, second floor." Sammy then paused and quickly added,
"Now, remember, I didn't say he was a crook."
Bruno nodded, reaching into
his suit coat side pocket and removed a small wad of bills. "Good man. Here's twenty dollars to check around with
your friends to see if they have news of the paintings heist."
Sammy happily snatched the
money. "I'll get right to it."
The curiosity to meet and generally look
over this Mr. Flurrie Peoples who confidentially sells valuable art amongst the
hoi polloi was almost more than Bruno could bear. He immediately took a hansom cab to the Field
Apartment Building, domicile for the art broker. The building was an elegant three-story
brownstone facing Lake Michigan. Bruno
quickly entered the lobby and checked the names on the building register and
found Flurrie Peoples, 201, and almost danced up the stairs to the second floor
in the anticipation to meet a possible new and clever criminal adversary, or
then again just to make another ordinary business contact with someone in an
interesting profession.
Flurrie Peoples fit the bookkeeper
description Sammy had provided to perfection; short, thin, wearing
spectacles, a born bookkeeper to be sure, yet he was buying and selling very
expensive art, and some of those sales with a possible black cloud floating
overhead.
"May I be of
assistance?' Mr. Peoples enquired, wearing a thin pleasant smile.
Bruno grinned with some
embarrassment. "Actually my name is
Bruno Clew and I own the Society Detective Agency."
Mr. People’s eyes widened
ever so slightly. "Please
enter. Let's sit by the window. There is a splendid view of Lake
Michigan." Mr. Peoples then took
Bruno's derby and silver bear head walking cane and placed them on an end table
near the apartment door. "I must
say I have heard accolades about your detective agency from my clientele
regarding the confidential manner in which you conduct business.”
Bruno smiled. "You are too kind. I have just learned of your unique art agency
through a client of mine, and thought I might drop by to pay my respects and
welcome you to the business community.”
Bruno quickly extended his right hand forward. “Please call me Bruno. I am quite informal.”
Mr. Peoples shook Bruno’s
hand. “My first name is Flurrie. It’s of Welsh derivation via Ontario, Canada. Please use it at will, Bruno.”
The two gentlemen spent the
next thirty seconds looking each other from top to bottom as two boxers about
to enter a fray.
“Flurrie,” Bruno queried, “I
understand you are in the business of buying and selling very expensive
art.”
"Yes, and my service too
is strictly confidential, I do not release the names of my clientele, and I
operate from my private quarters here rather than a walk in gallery.”
Bruno nodded, glancing about
the very elegantly furnished apartment.
He then paused, meeting eyes with Flurrie as they openly continued
analyzing each other’s wherewithal.
“Actually, Flurrie, I require some expert art assistance on a case I am
investigating. Three paintings were
purloined from the Jessica Wyncroft mansion under very unusual
circumstances. Her Terrier, Chomper, was
kidnapped…” Bruno then paused and chuckled, “I should say dog napped.”
Flurrie returned the
laughter. “Dog napped… Very good.”
“She received a printed note to leave $50
in a volume of foxhunting prints at the Wellington Street Library. She hired me to accompany her incase of foul
play. We left the money and then I
returned with her to her mansion and we immediately found Chomper tied to a
hedge near the front door. We entered
the mansion with the yapping Terrier at our sides and found her houseman tied
to a chair in her library and three Friar Eppingham masterpieces stripped from
the library walls, nothing else in the house was taken.”
Flurrie raised his right hand
and smiled. “You will not believe this,
Bruno, but a young man, probably about sixteen years old and very well attired,
brought the Friar Eppingham paintings to me just two hours ago. The paintings are quite exquisite. The young man was very amiable about the
entire matter, doing his best to act mature about the entire matter, and stated
he had inherited the paintings from his Uncle Mortimer, and they did not fit in
with the décor of his flat. He further
stated he required immediate cash for a business venture and would sell the
paintings at a discount so long as the deal was held strictly
confidential.”
Bruno clung to Flurrie’s
every word with the greatest intensity, now feeling camaraderie with
Flurrie. “It sounds like our dog ‘napper
all right.”
“I told him I would need a
few days to find a buyer, and he should then return with the paintings at that
time and we might strike a deal.”
Bruno nodded. “Did he leave his name?”
“No, but I will be pleased to
give you a physical description. He is
about five feet ten inches tall, athletically built, very fair skinned, with
light brown hair and brown eyes.”
“Do you think he will
return?”
Flurrie laughed. “Hard to say.
Quite frankly I didn’t feel he was sincere about the matter.”
“Some sort of adolescent
prank?”
Flurrie shrugged his slender shoulders. “Unknown.”
Bruno thanked Flurrie for his
time and forthright assistance, and offered his services as a private detective
free of charge when and if needed.
Flurrie gladly accepted.
Bruno left Flurrie’s flat,
quite pleased to make his acquaintance, yet feeling there was something
mysterious about Flurrie’s persona.
Flurrie reminded him of a few very first class confidence men he had met
while a member of the detective squad of the Chicago police department. Also, Sammy ‘The Mole’ Plankowski mentioned
it was rumored Flurrie sold illegal artwork.
The gentleman definitely bore watching, and Bruno looked forward to
accepting the task.
At the Wyncroft mansion,
Bruno related the description of the young man suspected of purloining Miss
Wyncroft’s paintings, however, he stated the information was from a source
whose identity he swore not to divulge.
He was then quite surprised to find Miss Wyncroft blurt out, “Jimmy Waltherman! You are describing Jimmy Waltherman! That young pup is a born troublemaker, and he
fashions himself as a Don Juan. He is
forever in trouble. I’ll talk to his parents.” She then gazed down at Flurrie’s empty
hands. “Well, where are my paintings?”
“He will deliver them to my
contact in two days.”
“Rubbish!” she screamed. “I’ll go right over to their mansion and put
an end to this farce!” She then paused
to scrutinize Bruno as if she hadn’t really looked at him before; his
well-attired appearance, his silver bear head walking cane, and aged but
handsome face, and she grinned. “You did
an acceptable job. Return tomorrow at 2
p.m. for your pay.”
On the stroll back to his
office, after another hard day of detective work, Bruno stopped off to buy a
pound of freshly cooked semi sweet chocolate chunks. As he munched on a particularly large chunk,
strolling along, it suddenly dawned on him that there was fifty dollars in cash
sequestered between the middle pages of a copy of Fox Hunting At Beachhead
in the Wellington Street Library. Bruno
swiftly turned about, now grinning from ear to ear, and scampered for the home
of old volumes.
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