‘You do sound so confident! Yes I’ll get Claude to cook a beautiful dinner... come earlier. Come at eight.’
‘Sorry, I’m tied up. I’ll see you at nine,’ and I hung up.
I wanted our meetings during the time we were working on the collar to be late. This was essential to my plan.
Claude, Sydney’s Man Friday, was a fat, kindly queer who once had been an under chef at Maxim’s of Paris. His working hours were from 08.00 to 22.00. He arrived promptly and left promptly. His cooking was superlative and he kept Sydney’s luxury home immaculate with the help of two coloured women to do the rough work.
That evening, a few minutes after 21.00, he opened the door to my ring and beamed at me. I was one of his rare favourites.
‘Good evening, Mr. Larry. May I say how glad I am that you are better?’ His greeting was genuine. ‘Do go in. Mr. Sydney is expecting you.’ Lowering his voice, he went on, ‘Dinner is nearly ready so please don’t linger too long over the cocktails.’
I said I would take care of that and then went into the vast living room where I found Sydney at his desk, a treble dry martini at his side.
‘Larry! How glad I am to see you... this is utter hell! Come and look!’
I went over to the big cocktail shaker and poured myself a large martini, then dropped into one of the big lounging chairs.
‘Not now, Sydney. Let’s eat first. We have the night before us.’
‘My head is simply buzzing.’ Sydney carried his glass to another chair near mine and sat down. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if this is going to work. God! I couldn’t sleep last night! I kept thinking I’ve given that dreadful woman three-quarters of a million! I must be out of my tiny mind! I am beginning to wonder if I’ll ever get my money back!’
‘Relax... you’ll get it back plus. Now don’t get in a tizz, Sydney. We’ll sort it out after dinner.’ Although I could see he wasn’t interested, I went on to tell him of the happenings in the shop, what I had sold, who had bought and how a lot of people had asked for him.
Talking in this way, I finished my martini as Claude announced dinner was served. It was an exceptionally excellent meaclass="underline" stuffed gulls’ eggs, followed by noisette d’agneau Edward VII, one of Maxim’s great specialities.
After dinner, we returned to the living room. I heard Claude let himself out and the front door clicked to. I wondered if he had left the catch down.
‘I’m just going to visit the small room,’ I said, ‘then let’s get at it.’
As Sydney sat at his desk, I went into the lobby, saw the catch was up and the door unlocked, then I went into the toilet, lifted the flush plug and returned to the living room.
We spent the next half-hour going through Sydney’s designs. This was to me a waste of time knowing there would be no collar, but I had to act out the play. Among the many designs, I selected three which I said were getting very near the idea.
‘Do you really think so, Larry? You’re not just being kind?’ Sydney looked anxiously at me.
‘Are you working with the necklace at your side?’
‘Why, no.’ His eyes popped open. ‘I keep it in the safe.’
‘That’s it!’ I snapped my fingers. ‘That’s why you’re having this trouble. Get the necklace and put it on your desk. You’ll get inspiration from it.’
He stared at me, then a happy smile lit up his face.
‘You know I never thought of that! Clever you? You could be so right!’ He went through the performance of removing the Picasso and opening the safe. Even though I knew he trusted me utterly, he kept his body between me and the safe so I couldn’t see how he opened it. He had spent a lot of money on the safe and how it was opened was his secret and for no one else.
He put the necklace on the desk. I shifted his desk light so the light fell directly on the glass imitations. They certainly looked good.
He sat down and stared at the necklace for some minutes, then he picked up the best of his designs and examined it.
‘You’re right, Larry, precious. I’ve got the wrong gradation here. Silly me! Yes, I think I can do better than this.’ He began to sketch feverishly while I smoked, watching him. In half an hour, after three unsuccessful attempts, he produced a rough that was so impressive I felt that if I didn’t curb his enthusiasm a second meeting wouldn’t be necessary and there had to be a second meeting.
‘This is it! I feel it!’ he exclaimed excitedly. ‘Look!’
It was of course exactly right.
‘It’s good,’ I said but made my voice sound flat.
‘It’s right! You see how I’ve placed the big stone? Why didn’t I think of that before?’
‘It’s excellent.’ I frowned, then shook my head.
‘Don’t you think it’s right?’ he asked anxiously.
‘Nearly right. I could sell this for a million and a half, but we want two million.’
‘I’m not buying any more stones.’ Sydney’s voice turned petulant, ‘if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘No... no, of course not. The arrangement is perfect. I’m not sure about the setting. Maybe it’s too classical. We mustn’t rush this Sydney. Let me think about it. I’ll come here on Friday night. By then I’m sure we’ll have come up with the solution.’
‘Friday night?’ He opened his engagement diary and consulted it. ‘Not Friday. I have a dreary dinner date I just can’t break. Thursday would be all right.’
‘Fine.’ I got to my feet. I was telling myself I had all day Wednesday and all Thursday until 22.00 to tie up any loose ends... it should be enough time. ‘I’ll be here just after ten o’clock. Then the next move is Hong Kong.’
‘Come earlier, Larry. Claude will prepare something special for you.’
‘I’m sorry. I can’t come earlier. I’m having dinner with the Johnsons (a lie). God help me! She’s interested in a diamond clip. When I know more or less what she wants, I’ll ask you to get some designs out for her.’
‘That dreadful old biddy!’ Sydney sighed. ‘Always the old and the fat.’
‘They have the money.’
I put his design in my wallet.
‘How are you feeling, Larry? You still look peaky,’ Sydney asked as he accompanied me to the front door.
‘All right. I get tired. When we’ve sold this collar, I think it might be an idea to go on a cruise... if it would be all right with you.’
‘You sell this collar, precious, and you can go to the moon if you want to and I’ll pick up the tab.’
When he had shut the front door, I paused to listen. He didn’t slip the catch.
Things seemed to be going my way.
I returned to my apartment at 23.20. Mixing myself a whisky and soda, I sat down and took stock.
Assuming Rhea and Fel were hooked and would do the job, I felt confident they could get into the apartment block and into Sydney’s penthouse without trouble.
I remembered Rhea had a record. She must wear gloves. If she left one fingerprint, my plan would blow up in my face for I felt certain if they were caught, they would give me away.
But would the police come into it?
Sydney’s position was tricky. If he called the police, then Plessington would learn his wife had sold the necklace. Sydney might not care about that, but he certainly would care if his partner, Tom Luce, got to hear about it. This might cause an irreparable rift between them for Sydney knew, as I knew, he was behaving unethically. Luce was tough and he wouldn’t easily forgive Sydney and this, I knew, Sydney would want to avoid at all costs. Tom was even more important to him than my expertise.
But would Sydney be prepared to kiss three-quarters of a million goodbye without doing anything about it? Although I knew he was immensely rich, to lose a sum that big would be crippling. After some thought I decided he might do just that rather than face Tom Luce’s wrath and also the damage Mrs. P. could do, going around to all his wealthy clients, saying he wasn’t to be trusted. If he didn’t think of this, then I would point it out to him.