Shell Game – Chapter 14 – Harold Huber

It took a while for Evan to make his way back to the office.  His conversation with Claire Porter had gotten under his skin the way only a woman could accomplish.  He didn’t like it.  He didn’t appreciate her damsel-in-distress routine and the obvious pull at his emotions.  However, there seemed to be some truth in it.  It made sense why The Gloria’s detective saw her with Charles and Gabe in the lobby.  She was playing a game, but it might just be for protection from whatever bogey man was out there.  What stuck in Evan’s craw even more was his reflexive desire to rescue, to save the day.  In twenty-four hours, he had a marriage, business, mysterious pearl, flighty client, and the honor of his partner to rescue.  He laughed to himself as he wondered what saving the day would look like if he did it.  Then he looked up at the continuing fog and wondered if anyone would see it if he did save the day.  

It was nearly four-thirty by the time he’d made his way back to fill Sophie in on the events of the afternoon.

“Hey there, stranger,” Sophie said, looking up from her typewriter.  “I was about to put together a search party.  Did you find the girl?”

“I found her alright,” Evan said and sat at the edge of Sophie’s desk.

“You sure don’t seem happy about it,” Sophie said.

“I’m not.  Her name’s Claire Porter now.  I think she’s going to stick to that one,” Evan said.

Sophie sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, “You seem like you’ve had a time of it.  I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now, but come what may, I’m glad you’re helping the kid out, Evan.”

“Is that right?” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” she said.  “I don’t know what it is, but I like her.”

“She has too many names for her own good, if you ask me,” he said.

“I don’t doubt she’s got herself in a bind, that’s written all over her face, but still there’s something innocent there to protect.  You know what I mean?”

“I think you’ve been reading too many magazine articles about the power of woman’s intuition,” Evan said.  He stood and began to amble to his office, “I don’t know how innocent she is, but she’s coughed up nearly seven hundred dollars in two days, which will go a long way to fix things with the bank and landlord, so that puts her pretty square in my book.”

“Evan!” Sophie’s voice stopped Evan cold.  It was rare for him to get scolded, so whatever he’d said, he knew he’d crossed a line.  He turned to face his accuser, “Listen, I know you got it bad right now, but that is about the most cynical thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”  She stood and placed one of her hands on her hip.  With the other, she pointed at him with her pencil.  “You listen to me, Evan Gold.  I know you, and I know you like to keep this rock-hard exterior about you.  But I also know you’re a good man who wants to see good happen to good people.  People are not just dollar signs for you.  As I said, she’s probably some kind of prodigal from her family.  Maybe it was the kind of family she needed to get away from.  But she’s young and wayward and, yes, mock it if you want to, but my woman’s intuition tells me if she can get enough good road in front of her, she’ll find her way just fine.”

“Uh-huh,” Evan said.

“Evan,” Sophie said, “you take advantage of that poor girl just to make a quick buck, and you’ll have me to answer to.”

Evan looked into Sophie’s face and smiled.  “Well, sister, that just might be the best roadblock I ever heard.  I don’t know any man who would be dumb enough to cross the mighty Sophie Landis.”  He turned and continued to his office door.

“Evan,” Sophie said, softening her stance.  Evan turned to her.  “Promise me.  Promise me you’ll treat her like your sister.”

“I don’t have a sister,” Evan smirked.  Sophie glared at him.

“Fine,” he said.  “Like my sister.  But only because you asked me so nice.”

“You’re impossible,” Sophie said as Evan closed his door.

Evan hung his hat on the rack and made his way to look out his window.  Fog, fog, and more fog.  Everywhere he looked was a grey ground cloud.  His mind tried to remember the atmospheric conditions that caused fog and what might keep it around so long.  After half a minute, he gave up the pursuit.  It had been at least fifteen years since he needed that kind of information, and even if he had it, it wouldn’t make the fog lift any sooner.

The light was getting dimmer.  Evan looked at his watch.  Almost evening, and soon it would be dark again.  Evan wondered what mischief would go on in the meantime, and would he be able to see clearly enough to find the truth?  And one more day till he and Katherine…

“The bank!” he said out loud and stamped his foot.  With all the days he was supposed to save, he’d fumbled the ball with the one that probably mattered the most.

He didn’t have too much time to kick himself as the door to his office opened and broke his focus.  Evan turned to see Sophie standing there with a card in her hand.  “Sorry to disturb you, Evan,” she said, “there’s a,” she read from the calling card, “Harold Huber here to see you.”  She walked over to Evan and presented the card.  She lowered her voice and said, “He’s a little intense.”

Evan looked at the card.  It was an ivory-colored paper with raised brown ink.  Evan thought nothing good could come from a man whose personal card was printed in brown ink.  He sighed.  “Show him in.”

Sophie nodded and walked to the door.  “Mr. Gold can see you now, Mr. Huber.”  Sophie waited at the entrance to let in this visitor.

Harold Huber not only looked like a brown ink sort of man, but he must have believed evangelically that brown was the superior color as his entire wardrobe was in some shade or tint of brown from his bowler hat to his leather wingtips.  His suit was of deep chocolate wool, his starched shirt looked the color of a child’s cup of coffee, and his tie was somewhere between the shirt and the suit.  Harold’s hair was a wild nimbus of curls and looked like it had never enjoyed the bowler hat on it.  Evan felt his face squinch at just the sight of this stranger.

“Good evening, Mr. Gold.  Thank you for taking the time to see me at the end of what must have been a very trying day for you.”

“Everybody’s got to carry his own load,” Evan said and motioned for Harold to sit.

Harold complied and rested his hat on Evan’s desk.  “Yes, but I read in the papers – please excuse me for bringing up such a potentially sensitive subject – that your partner was…” Harold made a gun with his thumb and forefinger and pretended to shoot himself in the heart.

Evan just looked at him.

“And then that other poor wretch.  Two murders in one night.”  Harold clucked his tongue disapprovingly at the news.  “Terrible business if you ask me, just terrible business.”  Then, as if the notion just struck him for the first time in Evan’s presence, Harold brightened his face and said, “Do you think the two murders might be connected somehow?”

Evan continued to stare at the man.  Then after a few seconds of welcomed silence, Evan said, “So what brings you in to see me, Mr. Huber?”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” Harold said like a rapid-fire pistol.  “The matter at hand, as it were.  Thank you for bringing it up.  I tend to get lost down trails of fantasy.”  Harold straightened his tie and posture before saying, “There is an item, a certain, well, it’s a bit of a delicate subject.  How should I say… I would like to hire you, if those are the proper words, to hire you to recover a certain item.  It has particular family importance.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Evan grunted.  He could feel his face squinch tighter.  “You want me to find something, is that it?”

“Precisely,” Harold said.  “Very good.”

“What is it?” Evan asked.

“It’s a, well, it’s a, I suppose for the lack of a better term, it’s a gem.  A pearl with some rather unusual qualities.”  Harold dragged out the word “qualities” to the point it was almost singing.

Evan’s stomach joined his face in tightening at the mention of the pearl.  Given the visions he had seen and the voice he had heard, he could only assume the pearl in his pocket was the same pearl this Mr. Huber was after.

“Yes, extraordinary qualities,” Harold repeated.  “It has escaped the grasp of its rightful guardian, and I am on a quest to recover it.  I am prepared, or rather, the man I work for, the rightful owner of said gem, is prepared to offer ten-thousand for its safe return.”  Harold smiled very broadly as if he deserved a prize for delivering this request.

“Ten-thousand,” Evan said.  “I assume that’s dollars?”

“Yes, good, solid, American, cash,” Harold said, dragging out the “sh.”  “My only aim is the pearl’s recovery.  I could not care less about how it is recovered.  Well, now that I say that, it would be good to do everything in such a way as not to raise the attention of the police or the press or really anyone else.  My employer would like to keep this as hush-hush as possible; you understand.”

“Not really, but I catch your drift,” Evan said.  “That’s an awful lot of money, Mr. Huber…”

“Call me Harold,” Harold interjected.

“That’s an awful lot of money, Harold,” Evan repeated.  “Do I get any kind of guarantee that when the moment comes, you’ll be able to pay?”

Harold blew out some air between his lips and said, “My employer has deep pockets.  I would not worry about prompt payment.”

“And what makes you think I can get this Pearl of Unusual Qualities?” Evan asked, looking out his window.

Before Harold could answer, there was a knock at Evan’s door.  Sophie poked her head in, and both men stood.

“You don’t need to get up,” Sophie said, “I was just on my way out for the night.”

“Very good,” Evan said, “Have a good one.”

The door closed, and Evan turned to face Harold.  What he saw confirmed all the tension in his body.  Harold Huber held a snub-nose revolver aimed at Evan’s gut.  Evan chuckled to himself.  He noticed Harold’s forehead had broken into beads of sweat, and his hand was shaking slightly.

“What’s all this, Harold?” Evan said.  “Normally, it takes days before I’ve offended anyone this much.”

“I want you to sit down and place your hands on your desk.  I have reason to believe you have the pearl I seek in this office, and I’m going to ask you to sit there patiently while I perform my search.”

Evan coolly sat down in his chair and placed his hands on the desk.  “Search all you want,” Evan chuckled.  “I ain’t going to stop you.”

Harold made a tight and brief smile as he bent down to open Evan’s desk drawers.  When Evan saw Harold’s attention shift to the drawer, he rammed his elbow into Harold’s ribs, knocking him away from the desk.  Then, Evan sprung from his chair, grabbed the off-balance Harold, and struck him just under his jaw with a fist.  Harold’s head snapped back and to the side.  An instant later, Harold Huber was unconscious and crumpled on the floor like a pile of brown laundry.

Evan stood over this would-be thief and shook his head while massaging his knuckles.