this is what I have so far of a mystery novel I'm working on. Please tell me what you think, and if you have ideas for a new title.
Dying for Diamonds
Chapter One
The blond, thirty-year-old woman tromped up the dimmly lit, creaky staircase in her conservative brown businesswoman’s skirt suit and matching pumps. Reaching the second floor of the old red brick building on Thansy Street, she turned right and trudged down the small, dim hallway. Her heels clacked on the hardwood floor as she trudged by a handful of closed doors and spots of gaudy yellow paint peeling from the walls. But she paid them no mind. Other, more pressing, concerns claimed her attention.
“Damn it,” she said to herself. “I can’t take much more of these caseless days. Why didn’t I just stay on the force? At least I’d have a steady job and money to pay my rent…”
She stopped in front of the last door on the right, number 2G. Tacked to the door in greeting she found a scrap of paper. Scrawled across the top of it in bold lettering were the words, “Eviction Notice”. She scowled, took the paper down, and crumpled the offensive note in her hand without reading the details.
“Things can’t possibly get any worse,” she said.
She tossed the wad of paper aside, reached into her small black purse, and brought forth a key. She unlocked the door and entered her apartment.
Reaching over to the right, she flicked a switch on the wall. An overhead light came on, revealing a medium-sized room. On the whitewashed wall to her right sat a brown gingham sofa. A few inches from it, a doorway led to the kitchen area. Across from the doorway in which she stood, an oak desk cluttered with papers sat on the far wall, under a small window covered by venitian blinds. On the left-hand wall, across from the sofa, sat a TV and a small stereo system on a long table. On that same wall, near the desk, a door closed off the bedroom from the living room. Directly in the middle of the living room, a cleared-off glass coffee table sat as if waiting patiently to be of service. By the door where she stood, a telephone and answering machine sat on a small table. The woman looked at the machine, checking for messages. The red indicator light blinked. She hit the button to play back the message. The tape whirred, and then a strong, masculine voice spoke.
“Abby, look. I hate to do it like this, but I’m not going to see you anymore. Sorry. It just wasn’t going to work, you and me. We’re just too different. You’ll see this was for the best. Also, I’m leaving Watersford in a few days, and I won’t be back. So, bye.”
Beep.
The woman slammed her fist into the wall and held back the tears. “Damn it! Now David’s gone. What did I do to deserve this run of bad luck?”
She shut the door and locked it. Then she kicked off her shoes, tossed her purse onto the coffee table, and stalked across the living room to the bedroom door and opened it. An unmade bed greeted her first from the dark room. It stuck out from the far wall into the center of the room. To her right, an open door led to the bathroom. Against that same wall stood a simple wooden dresser, the top of which was cluttered with makeup, combs and brushes, and loose jewelry Abby had been too lazy to put up. On the left wall was a walk-in closet, the doors closed for the time being, and a bookshelf full of mystery books in both hardback and softback. The authors ranged all over - from Doyle and Christie to Hammett and Chandler, from McBain and Grisham to Cornwell and Grafton. She read any and all mysteries, and loved them all. Abby’s green eyes just stared at the bed, though. It looked so comfortable. It beckoned to her, promising escape from the day’s troubles. She gave in to it. Not bothering to turn on the overhead light – or to undress – she plopped down on the soft mattress and buried her pretty face in the pillow. She finally let loose the tears she had been holding back from David’s leaving. And with them came tears of frustration caused by all the other problems that had stressed her. Because she hadn’t had any decent work over the past few months, she had a serious case of money shortage. And so she hadn’t been able to pay her rent, and could hardly buy food and pay her other bills. All of her anger and fear came out in a torrent of tears. Eventually, she cried herself to sleep.
* * *
The next morning Abby found herself climbing another staircase, this time in an upscale, multi-story office building on Corporate Circle. Brighter lighting surrounded her, and she wore a light green skirt suit and off-white pumps. She climbed because, as her luck would have it, the elevator had broken down. Eventually she came to the fourth floor. She opened a metal door with a large black “4” painted on it, entered the hallway, and headed right. She muttered angrily to herself about her bad luck as she stalked along. She passed by glass doors on either side of her. Some of the men and women in the offices, who just happened to be looking out their doors at the right time, saw her and commented to each other on her attitude and the scowl on her face. They tried to come up with a reason for her bad mood. “Man trouble” turned out to be the number one choice.
Abby approached a glass door on the right at the end of the long hall. Painted on the glass in gold lettering were the words “Piers Investigations” and below them, “Abigail Piers, Private Investigator”. An unwelcome sight brought her to a stop. She found another piece of paper taped to the door. She ripped it off, glanced at the warning about payment being past due for her rent, and crumpled the note.
She yanked open the door to the fairly small office, rattling the small venitian blinds hanging on the office side of the door. A closed door stood directly across from the entrance, and another closed door stood on the wall off to the left, surrounded by ficus plants. A small beige couch sat in the middle of the floor. File cabinets covered the right wall. In front of them sat a small desk with a telephone and a pad of notepaper. A pretty redheaded woman a few years younger than Abby sat behind the desk in a blue chiffon dress. At the sound of the front door opening, she looked up from the copy of People magazine she was reading.
“Good morning, Miss Abigail,” she said cheerily.
“Hmph,” Abby grunted.
Perplexed, the woman watched Abby march to the foliage-free door, jerk it open, and stomp into the room. Abby slammed the door closed, and the woman flinched.
Ten minutes later, a call came from the closed room.
“Melissa, come here, please!”
Quickly, the redhead got up from her chair and did as she was asked.
“Melissa, I have something to tell you,” Abby said as her secretary shut the door behind her. Abby sat behind a desk, the only piece of furniture in the small room. A ledger sat open before her, a checkbook open atop it.
“What is it, Miss Abigail?”
“I’ve gone through our books, and I hate to say this, but if we don’t get a case – a good case – soon…Well, I’m afraid we’ll have to close up shop.”
Melissa stared at her boss as if she’d grown two heads. “You…you mean…”
Abby nodded. “The numbers don’t lie. After I pay you,” she tore off the top check and held it out to Melissa, “we are effectively broke. After my car broke down this morning, I had to use the last of my own cash for a cab ride here. On top of David’s leaving, and the eviction notices I’ve gotten, this is just the icing on the cake of all the bad luck I’ve had lately. But I should have seen this coming. With all the small-paying jobs I’ve had, I haven’t been able to pay all of my bills. After paying your salary every week, I haven’t had a lot of money for the other things. Well, I just thought you should know the state of affairs so you can look for another job. But let me say, if you need a letter of recommendation, I’d gladly vouch for you. You’ve been a good secretary, and a good friend. I’ve enjoyed our time together, short as it was.”
Abby thought Melissa was going to cry. Her secretary’s chin trembled as she reached for the check. “Miss… Miss Abigail…I…I don’t know what to say. I…I’ve enjoyed working for you immensely. You’ve been a great boss.” She looked at the check in her hand for $325, made payable to Melissa Masters. The woman frowned. “But please,” Melissa said as she handed the check back to Abby, “don’t give me the last of your money. I wouldn’t be able to cash this and spend the money, knowing that I had bankrupted us. Besides, I don’t really need it. You’ve always given me more than enough, and for that I’m grateful. You take this check and use it yourself. You just said you don’t have any cash.”
Abby felt like crying as she took the check back. “Oh, Melissa… Are…are you sure you don’t need this?”
The redhead nodded.
“Thank you, Melissa. You really are a good friend.”
An awkward silence fell over the little room. A call from the outer office a moment later made to two women start.
“Hello? Is there anyone here? I need some help.”
“I’ll go see who it is, Miss Abigail,” Melissa said.
Abby nodded, and the redheaded woman opened the door and returned to the outer office.
As Melissa returned to her desk, she found an attractive woman with shoulder-length blonde hair sitting on the couch. The lady looked to be in her mid to late forties. She wore a black skirt suit and matching dress shoes. Melissa thought the outfit looked like one of the more expensive designer styles, which meant that the prospective client had to be a wealthy socialite. Miss Abigail just may have gotten her wish for a good case, and we may not have to close up after all, Melissa thought. God, please let this be our job’s salvation.
“May I help you?” Melissa asked as she walked up to the lady.
The woman stood up and faced the secretary. “Yes. I’d like to speak with Miss Piers. Is she in?”
“She’s busy in her office right now, but I’m certain she can take time to talk to you. Whom may I say is here to see her?”
“I am Constance Van Peltzen. I have a job offer for her.”
Melissa stared at her for a second in shock. Constance Van Peltzen! The wife of Harold Van Peltzen, one of the richest men in Watersford! And she had a job offer! It was unbelievable. Melissa quickly snapped out of her stupor. It didn’t look good to stare at a rich client like that. “I’ll tell her right away, Mrs. Van Peltzen.”
Mrs. Van Peltzen resumed her seat on the couch as Melissa hurried back and knocked on Abby’s door.
“Come,” Abby called.
The would-be client watched as Melissa entered the room and shut the door behind her. A few seconds later, the door opened and Melissa stepped back out of the room and walked over to the couch.
“Mrs. Van Peltzen, Miss Piers will see you now,” Melissa said.
“Thank you.”
The socialite stood up and Melissa showed her into Abby’s office.
Abby stood up as Mrs. Van Peltzen entered, and Melissa gave them some privacy by closing the door and returning to her desk and her copy of People magazine.
“Hello, Mrs. Van Peltzen,” Abby said. “I’m Abigail Piers. I’m pleased to meet you. How can I be of service?”
“I’m pleased to meet you, too, Miss Piers. I’ve come to see you because I have a job I would like you to do for me.”
Abby sat back down behind her desk and leaned back in her chair, linking her hands behind her head, acting more confindent than she felt at the moment. “I’m listening,” she said.
“I’m sure you’ve heard of the upcoming ball at the White Room. My husband is showing off his newly acquired collection of rare diamonds there.”
“Yes. The story has been in the papers lately. But of what concern is the ball to me? I wasn’t invited.”
“You are now. I’d like you to provide security for the diamonds.”
Abby’s jaw dropped, her arms fell to her side, and she sat up straight. “ME? Why would you choose me?”
“Do you remember a Mrs. Lucille Briston?”
Abby nodded. “Yes. She was one of my first clients. I did a job for her, providing security for a rare art display of hers.”
“Mrs. Briston is a close friend of mine. I mentioned I needed someone to provide security for Harold’s display, and she strongly recommended you. She was quite impressed with the job you did for her.”
“Well, I’m glad she was pleased with my work. But I don’t know…. Providing security for diamonds…. That could prove trickier than for just some paintings.”
“I’m sure it could. Diamonds are more likely to draw a thief’s attention than paintings. But I’m quite sure you can handle it. And because this job is so important, I’m willing to pay you twice your normal fee, plus expenses.”
TWICE my normal fee?! Plus expenses?! YES!! Abby fought back the urge to jump up and down in excitement. “I appreciate your optimism, Mrs. Van Peltzen,” Abby said, forcing herself to remain calm as she spoke. “Consider me at your service.”
“Thank you, Miss Piers. Meet me at The White Room tomorrow morning at 9:00, and I’ll let you get started.”
Abby nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
After a brief handshake, Constance Van Peltzen left. Abby plopped back down in her chair, a wide grin on her face. Things were finally looking up.
Chapter Two
The little red Volvo pulled into a parking space near the front doors of the posh hotel known as The White Room. The twenty-story whitewashed building stood right in the middle of downtown Watersford. Abby gazed at it through the windshield while Melissa shut the car off. Morning sunlight made the building gleam brightly and made Abby squint and wish that she had brought her sunglasses.
Abby took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. This was her first big job in a long time, and she was nervous. She didn’t want anything to go wrong. She needed the money from this job badly. When she was ready, she opened the car door and climbed out.
Melissa started to follow her lead, but Abby stuck her head back inside.
“Melissa,” Abby said, “thanks for giving me a ride. But I don’t need you to come inside with me. So, why don’t you go do some shopping or something while I’m here. I should be done in maybe a hour. Come get me then, okay?”
“All right, Miss Abigail. But are you sure you don’t need me for anything in there?”
“I’m sure.”
“Not even to take notes on anything you might need?”
Abby smiled. Melissa always wanted to tag along on her cases, and Abby never let her out of fear for her friend’s safety. “I’m certain I’ll be able to remember everything that I’ll need, Melissa,” she told her secretary.
Melissa frowned slightly with disappointment. “Well, okay. Then I’ll be back in an hour, Miss Abigail.”
“Right. Thanks, Melissa.”
Abby shut the car door and Melissa started the engine. Abby watched as her secretary backed out of the parking space and drove off, then she turned and walked up the sidewalk to the glass double doors that were the entrance of the hotel and went inside.
* * *
Abby stopped just inside the doors and gasped at the elegant décor of the vast lobby. The polished marble floor glistened in the light of the overhead brass chandeliers. Whoever had been chosen as interior decorator of the hotel had evidently decided to go with a classical theme and filled the empty space of the lobby with marble columns of Corinthian design interspersed with statues of Greek and Romanesque design. The walls had been left with only a whitewashing.
Snapping out of her stupor, Abby strode towards the front desk at the far end of the lobby, her gait full of purpose. Before she made it even halfway there, an attractive, middle-aged woman with shoulder-length blonde hair stepped into the lobby from a set of doors on Abby’s left. The heels of her pink dress shoes – which matched the pink designer dress she wore – clacked audibly on the marble floor. Beside the door stood a sign advertising the upcoming display that the diamonds Abby had been hired to guard were to be a part of. Spying Abby, the blonde woman waved. Behind her, the doors closed silently.
“Miss Pierce!” she called. “Over here!”
Abby stopped walking and turned to face the woman who had called. Seeing who the hailer was, she smiled slightly and walked over to her. The two women shook hands.
“Good morning, Mrs. Van Peltzen,” Abby said.
“I’m glad you made it,” Constance Van Peltzen said.
“Thank you. Well, shall we get started?”
“If you wish. It is still early, though. I believe that breakfast is still being served, if you’d like to get something to eat first.”
“No, thank you. I’m ready to get to work.”
“What a business-minded person you are, Miss Pierce. I like that. I’m glad I hired you. All right. I’ll show you the room, then.”
“Thank you.”
Constance Van Peltzen simply nodded, then turned and opened the doors. The two stepped inside the room.
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