‘Hey Clance, what brings you to my doorstep?’
‘Why are you up so early?’ asked Clancy.
‘I have no idea,’ said Ruby, ‘why are you even here?’
‘Oh, I was trying to avoid taking Olive to kindergarten, so I told my mom that I had to leave home super early because I had to pick something up from your place.’
‘Why didn’t you just, you know, like say you were coming here but hang out in the diner,’ asked Ruby.
‘Because she will probably call you in a minute to check I wasn’t lying.’
At that moment the telephone began to ring. Ruby picked up the receiver.
‘Hello Mrs Crew, yes, he’s here. . . OK, I will, yes, bye, bye.’
‘What did she say?’ asked Clancy.
‘Be sure to come straight home after school, Olive wants you to play hopscotch with her.’
‘Oh brother!’
‘Well come on in, Mrs Digby and I were just discussing the latest high-rise robbery.’
Clancy followed Ruby back up to the kitchen.
‘Who did the place belong to?’ he asked.
‘It says here,’ said Ruby, reading from the Echo, ‘that it was a couple, Pamela and Fabian Thompson, and their fifteen-month-old son, Nileston.’
‘Nileston?’ repeated Clancy, screwing up his nose. ‘Nileston? What kind of name is that for a kid?’
‘Apparently it’s a family name,’ answered Ruby. The Echo was the sort of paper that gave out useless information like this.
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘Pamela Thompson says, the only thing that we have noticed missing is my husband’s tie-clip.’
‘How does that fit in to any theory you might have?’ asked Clancy.
‘Mrs Digby thinks the guy’s a wannabe murderer, but I don’t have a theory, at least not one that involves a suspect. Sure, everyone knows this thief can climb and that he can open windows and climb in through small spaces, but no one seems to have a clue about who this bozo is.’
‘A dangerous man, is who this bozo is,’ said Mrs Digby, hopping off her seat and clearing her teacup. ‘If you want a cookie, there’s fresh ones in the tin, I have to get back on with my chores.’ She left them alone.
Ruby picked up a pencil and wrote down the objects that had so far been stolen.
‘You see, the shoes, yes, they are valuable all right. I mean, maybe not in themselves but to a collector, to someone interested in the movies.’
‘Or someone who’s a real devoted fan of Margo Bardem,’ said Clancy. ‘I mean maybe this guy is collecting famous people memorabilia.’
‘That’s a good point Clance,’ said Ruby, ‘I guess it’s possible.’
‘Yeah,’ said Clancy, warming to the idea, ‘I heard them saying on the radio that the tie-clip once belonged to the king of the UK.’
‘England,’ corrected Ruby, ‘kings of the UK are generally referred to as the king of England.’
‘It must be pretty valuable right?’ said Clancy. ‘They said it was inscribed with the guy’s initials? This window thief could be like a king of England fan.’
Ruby smiled, Clance really made her see the funny side. ‘Yep it was the king’s all right, it was engraved, and see here – there’s even a photograph of him wearing it back in the day.’
‘So,’ Clancy asked, ‘did this king of England lose it or something because what I want to know is how it ended up pinned on a Twinford car salesman.’
‘Advertising man,’ corrected Ruby.
‘Car advertiser, whatever,’ said Clancy. ‘Why is it not back home in the Tower of London?’ He caught Ruby’s expression, ‘Or wherever the royal people keep their stuff now.’
‘You are asking all the right questions, my friend. Thinking like a detective.’ Ruby gave Clancy a pinch to his cheek.
‘Cut it out Rube.’
‘I guess we gotta assume maybe this king gave it away, it’s the sorta thing kings do, but it could have changed hands many times before Mr Thompson got his mits on it. If Mrs Thompson bought it at auction or some antique store, then who did it belong to before that and what are they doing selling it?’
‘Perhaps the original owner decided to cash it in; it’s the kind of piece someone might pay a few thou for – I mean, I would,’ said Clancy. ‘I think it would look pretty stylish but I wouldn’t wear it on a tie – maybe on a hat but not a tie.’
‘What else do we have?’ said Ruby running her pencil down the list.
‘Oh yeah, the poetry book. This messes up your famous person theory, because the poet JJ Calkin was not a famous poet and the book is not valuable – not enough to make it worth the steal, to risk the chance of getting caught.’
‘Or splatted,’ remarked Clancy who was thinking about the nine floors he had to climb to reach it. ‘But it might be sentimental? I mean, it has to mean something to someone.’
Neither of them said anything for a minute or two and then Clancy said, ‘Perhaps it was a commission – to steal these four things. I mean, perhaps the thief was contracted to grab the items and the money he gets paid makes it all worthwhile?’
‘Possible,’ agreed Ruby, ‘the thief could have a steal and deal business, or as you say, he could have a steal to order business, unless of course. . .’ She paused.
‘What?’ said Clancy.
‘Unless he’s planning on keeping everything for himself.’
‘Like trophies for his trouble you mean, like he is saying look how good I am? Like one of those rich gentleman thieves who does it for kicks?’
‘Raffles,’ said Mrs Digby re-entering the room.
‘Who’s Raffles?’ said Clancy wrinkling his nose.
‘A rich gentleman thief who steals for kicks,’ replied Ruby.
Ruby tapped her pencil on her desk, tap, tap, tap, tap, she was thinking about the loyalty cards now. Why hasn’t Blacker called?
‘No,’ she said. ‘This guy is not showing off, this guy is tapping us on the shoulder trying to get us to turn round and look.’
The transmitter was
buzzing again, he walked over
to where it sat, taking his
time about it. . .
‘Hello,’ he said.
‘Don’t give me “hello” like we are on genteel speaking terms.’ The woman spat the words angrily into his ear and he instinctively pulled the receiver device away from him as if she might perhaps reach into it and grab him. ‘How long are you going to make me wait?’
‘Not much longer.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she said.
‘I have it,’ he said calmly.
‘You have the 8 key?’ She took a deep breath. ‘At last – when will you deliver?’
‘Be patient, I just have two small tasks