Shell Game – Chapter 20 – The Meeting

Evan Gold raised himself out of his armchair and walked to the front door. A moment later, Harold Huber stormed into the living room. Evan noticed the strangled playbill in Harold’s hand. He made a mental note to have Sophie send The Webster’s front desk a nice gift for promptly delivering the message to Harold and not waiting until he settled back in his room.

“I simply cannot excuse your sloppy and unprofessional approach, Mr. Gold,” Huber said, not yet acknowledging Claire’s presence.

“Was it good?” Evan asked, pointing to the playbill.

“That woman,” Harold said, spitting and baring his teeth, “is outside your apartment!”

“Woman?” Claire said. “I thought she drove off.”

Evan shook his head slightly. “Different woman. Been following me all day. She’s camped by a lamppost.”

Claire rushed to the window and carefully peeled back the edge of the curtain.

“I hope, Mr. Gold,” Harold spewed as he removed his hat and coat, “that this isn’t some ham-handed trap of your creation. Strike that. I hope it is. You can’t attach anything to me. I’m innocent of all charges.”

“Maybe yes and maybe no. Time will have to bear that one out,” Evan said with a smile. “Listen, Huber, can I call you Harold? I asked you down here in good faith. No traps. I promise you I have no idea what that woman out there wants. If she keeps her distance, I don’t think she causes much of a threat. Since Miss Porter here and I were shooting the breeze, I just thought we should invite our mutual friend over to catch up on old times. I guess our gal on the street is just a curious onlooker.”

Harold Huber eyed Evan through narrow slits. Claire came back around to the sofa.

“Have you been so careless as to show that woman where I’m staying?” Harold asked.

“You need to take a breath, brother, before you blow a gasket,” Evan said. “As far as I know, I gave her the shake before I met with Miss Porter. Of course, she found me here, so who knows? What she knows or suspects, I couldn’t hope to guess.”

“Evan,” Claire said with a tremor in her voice, “you don’t think we’re in any danger, do you?”

“Maybe we are. Maybe we aren’t. We won’t know till we see how this plays out, will we?” Evan sat back down in the armchair and invited Harold and Claire to sit on the sofa. Harold continued to stand. “Truth is that enough loose ends are running through this town to make a tailor crazy. All the same, Harold, I’m glad she didn’t scare you off.”

Again, Evan gestured to the sofa. “Ah, come on now, take a load off, Harold. Claire doesn’t bite. Unless she does, which would be good to know. Is that why you won’t sit down; you’re scared of a woman?”

Without changing his expression, Harold looked at Claire and said, “Miss Porter,” and she replied, “Harold.” Harold then sat at the sofa’s edge as if ready to spring out of the apartment at the slightest unpleasantness.

“That’s better,” Evan said, exhaling and loosening the top button of his shirt. “Now we can chat. Like old friends.” Evan rested his right ankle on his left knee and leaned back into the armchair. “We were just discussing, Claire and I, your offer of ten-thousand dollars for this pearl.”

Harold’s face relaxed considerably, allowing a smile to stretch across his face. “That’s good,” he said. “Let all things out into the open. So, all the cards are out on the table, as it were.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Evan said. “How soon can you get the money together?”

“Now,” Harold said, stroking the hat in his lap.

“Cash?” Evan asked.

Harold chuckled to himself, “Believe me, Mr. Gold, cash is the only method for transactions like these. If you start involving the banks, the government starts to get curious. I’m sure you can appreciate that my employer would like as little snooping into his affairs as possible.”

“Uh uh,” Evan said, rubbing the stubble of his cheek with the back of his right hand, “so, if I have the pearl on me,” he held his arms out wide, “in this very apartment and handed it over to you, you could put ten-thousand smackers in my palm?”

Claire fidgeted on her end of the sofa.

Harold reached for his handkerchief, dabbed at his neck, and smiled, “Again, Mr. Gold, I’m not in the practice of carrying such a sum of bills on my person. That would be both ostentatious and dangerous. However, I could hand over such a sum to you as early as, say, ten o’clock tomorrow morning?

Claire turned her head suddenly to Evan and moved as if to speak but then stopped. “Yes, Claire?” Evan asked. “I didn’t mean to cut you out of the conversation. If you have something to say, please feel free.”

She shifted her eyes from Evan to Harold and back again. It seemed to Evan like it caused her actual pain to form the words. “I don’t have the pearl on me,” Claire said eventually. “Not at the moment, anyway.”

“How soon can you get possession of it, dear?” Harold asked, turning his knees to face Claire for the first time.
“A week?” she shrugged. “Maybe less? There’s been a slight complication in locating it.”

Harold stood up suddenly and paced to the back of the sofa. “This is unacceptable,” he stamped his foot like a real-life Rumpelstiltskin. “Unacceptable,” he repeated. “Where is the pearl right now? Our patience is wearing thin.”

Claire held her hands up to calm down the situation. She said, “Jason, Mr. Charles, was to pick it up. I don’t know if he did or didn’t. If he didn’t, it’s still out there on the loose. If he did, it’s likely hidden where you and I will have difficulty finding it.”

Harold stamped his foot again and paced the length of the room twice. Then, Harold grabbed the back of the sofa and put his face down at the level of Claire’s. “What will it take to find it?” he hissed.

Claire only shrugged and looked to Evan for help.

Harold sputtered. “Of all the impertinence…”

“Two people are already dead because of me… because of this… I don’t know what I would do if I were the cause of another man’s death.” Claire began to cry.

“But a whole week?” Harold asked. “Have you seen this town? It’s the size of a postage stamp! Why a whole week?” Then a new thought hit him, “Unless you’re trying to stall. Are you trying to stall?”

“Yes, but not for why you think. Look, maybe not a whole week,” Claire adjusted. Then she looked at Harold and pressed her eyebrows together before she spoke. “Are you buying the pearl for yourself or for…”

Harold grimaced briefly. Claire began to wring her hands and paced a few times in front of the fireplace. Then she stopped suddenly and looked at Harold, “Are you working with him again?”

Harold held out his hands in a helpless gesture, “What else could I do? I know I can’t run fast enough or far enough, and I certainly wouldn’t want to be caught by him with it in my possession.” He took a step closer to her. “But that raises an interesting point, my dear. Why are you working through Mr. Gold here to sell it to him so eagerly?”

Claire turned away so that her back was to both men. She began to sob lightly. “I’m afraid. I hate to admit it, but I am. I’m terrified. I just want it out of my life. I thought I could get away with it, and I thought I had all the details covered. We even had a buyer lined up. But then Jason and I were separated for a couple of days, and when I located him, I couldn’t get a straight answer, so I hired Mr. Silver. I thought maybe he’d scare the truth out of Jason. But now he’s dead, I still don’t have the pearl, and…” she sobbed even more, “I’m scared for my life.” Then she gave herself over to her emotions, and Evan stood to pass her his handkerchief. She took it, dabbed her eyes, and did what she could to gather herself before turning back around.

Harold asked, “So, who do you imagine killed Mr. Charles?”

Claire looked coolly at the man in the brown suit. Then she raised her hand and covered her right eye. The color dropped out of Harold’s skin.

So, you think he’s in town?” Harold asked with an emphasis on the word “he’s.”

Claire shrugged, “I don’t know for sure. But you’re here. You’re working for him. And she’s out there,” Claire said, pointing to the window. “It can’t be good. If he’s not in town yet, I assume he will be soon.”

“You know how it is with him. You know how much he enjoys the shadows. This is, at the end of the day, only a small trifle of an issue. He sends out his employees like messenger birds to do his bidding for something like this while he sits and plots. I don’t think he would show up here unless…” Harold’s voice trailed off.

“What difference does it make anyway?” Claire moaned. “My life is marked for death so long as he doesn’t have the pearl.”

Evan said, “Say, I’m enjoying this hush-hush thing you two have going on here. Normally I gotta throw down four bits for this kind of show at the Bijou, but I got to say, I’m a little in the dark. If I’m going to help you locate this pearl, and it sounds like finding it is important to a particular group of persons, I think I should know who or what we’re dealing with.”

Harold and Claire looked at each other for a moment before Harold said, “It might. It might at that. It would certainly make a difference to Miss Porter and me.”

“And the woman outside,” Claire said.

Harold nodded, “And her.”

“Well,” Evan smiled and clasped his hands together, “now we are getting somewhere. Perhaps we can…”
His sentence was broken by knocking at the front door. All three heads snapped in the door’s direction and wondered what kind of omen this could mean.