The Case of the Carroltons’ Cartier - Part 4

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I’m doing something a tad different for this one. I’m going to do a serialized noir story. If you read my stuff on the regular, you may recognize Jack Lumley from an earlier tale. I hope this turns out to be worthwhile for all concerned.

I woke up with Buddy Rich and Gene Krupa doing a drum duet inside my skull. They made frequent appearances there, so I was tired of the show. I had some time before my appointment at the Carrolton estate, so I figured I’d take a quick shower and get a jump on the morning’s coffee. I pour myself a cup of java and opened up the daily fish-wrapper to catch up on the news. Always smart for a man in my line to know what’s what. Plus, I liked to keep up with L’il Abner. Can’t help it, guy makes me laugh.

Not much was going on in the City of Angels it seemed. I did spot the homicide that Driscoll mentioned. A screenwriter got himself killed with a blow to the back of his head in his Pacific Palisades apartment. The guy wrote a couple of movies I think I heard of. No Oscar winners or big pictures, but a credit is a credit in this town.

His name was Richard Sumner.

I arrived at the Carrolton house a little late, which, for me this time of day was as good as early. The guard had my name on his list, and I pulled in and parked in the driveway circle. Jeeves opened the door before I had a chance to knock. He escorted me through the house to a large open air porch with a couple of tables set up with white linen. One had two place settings, a couple of covered dishes, and a silver coffee pot. Past the porch was a tile deck surrounding a swimming pool, in which Mrs. Carrolton was swimming laps.

“She will be with you in a moment. Please have a seat. May I offer you coffee?” Jeeves asked.

I took a seat and thanked Jeeves. He poured the coffee and then disappeared into the house. Mrs. Carrolton was a strong swimmer. I watched as she finished a lap, her blonde hair tied up. The sun gleamed off the water and ignited the bright red swim suit she was wearing. She reached the ladder and gracefully climbed out. It was a nice swimsuit, alright.

She grabbed a towel and began drying her hair as she slowly walked towards me, smiling.

“Mr. Lumley, thank you for coming to see me.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

She laid her towel on the seat of the chair across from me and sat down. She lifted the lid off one of the plates, revealing melon balls and apple slices. “Help yourself,” she said.

“Doctor told me to lay off fruit,” I said

“And why is that?”

“Too healthy.”

She chuckled. “I see you already have some coffee, so what is it I can help you with?”

“Is Mr. Carrolton around? I’d like to report to you both.”

“No. He is gone to work. Or what passes for it. You’re going to have to make do with me.”

I nodded. “I can live with that.”

“I’m sure.”

I told her the story of the diamond that had been sold at Nance’s place and the description of the guy who sold it. If any of that meant anything to her, her expression didn’t show it. It didn’t show much.

“So there’s a chance you can recover it?” she asked.

“Maybe. Will that disappoint anyone?”

“Frankly, Mr. Lumley, I am indifferent on this business. It’s a lovely necklace, but I don’t really care about jewelry all that much. Sidney seems to be more enamored with it, or at least of showing it off. But, that is his way.”

“How’s that?”

“He likes to have pretty things visible with him in public. But doesn’t care much about them otherwise.”

She sipped from her cup. “I hope you like the coffee, Mr. Lumley.”

“Better than I’m used to, but what I’m used to is pretty lousy.”

“Once you get a taste for the finer things, it’s hard to ignore them.” Mary grinned a grin that had more stories to tell than Scheherezade.

The morning sun was warming me up. At least that’s what I told myself. “So, I have to ask. Any financial troubles here?”

“Not unless having a hard time keeping track of the money that rolls in because of the cosmetics, Mr. Lumley. I can assure you, Sidney and I are fine,” she said, setting down her cup. “Financially speaking.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to woo me, Mrs. Carrolton.”

“I don’t think you do know better, Mr. Lumley.”

I pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Mrs. Carrolton. She declined, and I fired it up with my worn brass Zippo.

“There’s a couple of things that can mess up a job quicker than rats in a grain pile,” I said, taking in the first puff. “One is get involved with a client. The other is an angry husband.”

She laughed. “Sidney, I can assure you, does not care what I do as long as I am discreet. This is where you tell me your middle name is ‘Discreet’, Mr. Lumley.”

“It’s Michael, actually. Husband aside, there’s still the other part.”

She shrugged. I don’t think she was feigning nonchalance, though I suspect a lady like her rarely gets told no. Maybe she gets told yes often enough that it doesn’t matter.

“Then back to business, Mr. Lumley.”

“Any idea why your husband didn’t want the police searching the house.”

“A man like Sidney has his fingers in a lot of pies. Make of that what you will. Not that he’s into anything illegal, but he certainly has his secrets. As do I. No reason to let the local constables go through our business, is there?”

If she was lying, she was damn good at it. And she certainly could have been. But, I bought the story, at least for the time being. I asked her if Cynthia was at school.

“Poor girl, no,” Mrs. Carrolton said. “She came home last night all upset. She was crying and declaring that the world was ended.”

“Why was that?”

“Why else? Boy troubles.”

“Does she have a boyfriend?” I asked, playing dumb. An easy game for me.

“Oh, she acts like she spends time with that Lymon boy, but I know better.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s a perfectly harmless young man. I’ve known Ed and her friends have been covering for her real beau. I assume he’s an older boy. College, maybe.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Of course, but really I can’t argue the point with any real degree of credibility. “

“But you say there was trouble?”

“Yes, I gather she got stood up last night. The poor dear was so upset she couldn’t bring herself to go to school this morning. She’s sulking in her room pretending to be sick.”

I gazed out towards the pool, watching the water shimmer in the sunlight. “You sure you don’t know who this guy is?”

“Positive.”

I turned to look at Mrs. Carrolton, staring into her eyes. Something was there. The smallest betrayal of her inner thoughts.

“Are you sure?”

“I. I don’t know who he is.”

I sat there in silence for a moment. The shell was cracking a little. I just needed to let the truth bust free.

After a moment, she looked down. “I followed her once. I saw this man pick her up from that malt shop those kids go to. He’s definitely older than I’m comfortable with. So, I followed his car.”

I was impressed at this socialite sleuth.

“They ended up at his apartment, in the Palisades. I waited about an hour and drove home. She showed up not long after that, lying about her evening’s activities. I did not want to give her a lecture or even let her know I knew. But, I kept an eye on it. The guy did actually seem to like her. But, well, a girl that age with family wealth can easily be used.”

“But you didn’t stop it.”

“I know you’ve never been a teenage girl, Mr. Lumley, but I can assure you that if I had tried to stop it, it wouldn’t have worked. Cynthia was smitten. She probably thought this was the great love of her life. So, I told myself that the best thing I could do was keep her safe. But from a distance.”

“Did you follow her last night?”

“Yes. She went with her friends to the library, of all places. She waited by herself outside for an hour before she ran inside crying. I made it home to be here for her when she got back.”

“You know the guy’s name, don’t you?”

She sighed. “Yes, of course. It’s Richard Sumner. He writes for the movies. I take it he isn’t very successful at it.”

It was obvious that Mrs. Carrolton had not taken in today’s news.

“And, you never saw Richard and Cynthia hanging out with a beat?”

“Once I saw them go to a coffee shop with those kinds of characters.”

“Remember the name?”

“The Truth Cup or some nonsense like that.”

“You think I could talk to Cynthia?”

“Not today, Mr. Lumley.”

“It might help.”

“Not. Today.”

I could tell my welcome was warn out for this visit, so I stood up. “I get it. Maybe tomorrow.”

Mrs. Carrolton did not get up.

“Perhaps. You can show yourself the way out. I know you have a lot of work to do. “

I nodded and turned.

“Mr. Lumley,” she said as I got to the back door. I stopped and turned.

“Thank you for your help. And your concern. I don’t mean to be short with you.”

I told her I appreciated that and assured her I would be in touch if anything else turned up. “Oh, one more thing Mrs. Carrolton. You may want to read today’s paper. Page 4. I think Cynthia may be in for some more bad news.”

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