The Adventures of Mary Dingleby

Postby Dick Dastardly » Tue Aug 16, 2016 10:47 am

The cast

The Goodies: Emma Watson- Mary Dingleby
Adam Brody- Larry Fisher
Yvonne Strahovski- Betty Balentine
Nancy Mayfield- Rashida Jones

The Baddies: Michael Fassbender- William Crocket
Angelina Jolie- Audrey Meadows

Cornwall, England, 1949

It was a fine summer evening, and the sun was slowly starting to set over the beautiful English countryside that surrounded a small, isolated Victorian cottage. Within this home, there was a room that was designated as an office, and two men currently inhabited this as they talked seriously about their business.
William Crocket sat facing a large window, wearing a perfectly fitted grey suit and brown tie. The young man's hair was dark and combed over to one side, and it was accompanied by a thin moustache just above his mouth. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his inside pocket and opened the top. He then firmly tapped the packet on the arm of his wooden chair, and suddenly one shot up and was caught perfectly between the gentleman's lips.
A table rested in front of him, and across the table sat an elderly man named Donald Goldstein, with grey hair and a very clean shaven face. He looked at his partner impressed, with the blue eyes that once made him a very handsome man.
"I still have no idea how you do that," he said in a New York accent, as William lit his cigarette and slid the lighter across the table.
"Practice my good sir...just years of practice" he replied in an upper class English accent that reflected his social standing.

Donald smiled and then lit his own cigarette, before unwittingly placing the lighter in the pocket of his black suit jacket. William lifted a clenched fist to his mouth and let out a small polite cough.
"Problem my good man?" Asked Donald as he exhaled smoke unfazed.
"Please don't tell me you have started stealing from me as well."
Donald initially looked across the table, unaware of what this conversation was about, but eventually let out a smile and reached back into his pocket.
"Ha-ha, no sir-ee. A little mistake is all." He slid the lighter back across the table to William who quickly scooped it up.
"Besides," continued Donald, "we're not the ones who do the actual stealing are we. We're merely the bank for such operations."
"The bank that funds the bank robberies. Rather ironic don't you think?" Replied William with a little smirk on his face.
"And while we are on the subject." Donald looked to the wall on his left and stared at the hands of the old grandfather clock that ticked away while the rest of the cottage lay in silence. "Those two should be back any moment now with good news."
"What time was the train expected to make an appearance?"
"Four o'clock I believe."
William, who was also staring at the clock, nodded in quiet confidence that the job would be done. He continued to smoke as he leaned back to relax a little more.

"If all goes to plan, we should be making a rather substantial profit indeed," started Donald.
William nodded in agreement, and Donald then looked across the table at his partner in crime reluctantly.
"How long do you think we can go on with these enterprises William?"
He glanced up and noticed the expression on Donald's face, but simply let out another smirk.
"Thinking of retiring are we?"
"Well...The thought has crossed my mind, I must admit."
"What has brought up such musings may I ask?"
"I'm not getting any younger William, and we both know this is a young man's game. I'm extremely wealthy and own enough businesses to provide for my family for the rest of my life."
"I was always under the impression that these businesses were merely a smoke screen. A cover to hide what we are really doing to make ourselves impossibly wealthy."
"That is true. It always has been William. But these enterprises are providing me with enough straight money to get out of this game once and for all...Besides...it's becoming increasingly difficult for me to explain these trips around the country to friends,family ect. Perhaps it's finally time to pack it in and lead the honest life that I portray myself to live."
"An honest life? hmmmm, are you sure you know how to live one? Because I jolly well don't!"
Donald smiled and pulled the ashtray closer to himself. "Well anyhow. Perhaps this is neither the time nor the place to discuss such matters. Especially when we're anticipating the arrival of our men."

Suddenly the sound of a light knocking echoed through the rooms of the cottage, that was closely followed by the creaking sound of a door opening.
"Ah, speak of the devils," said William excitedly.
Donald stood up from his chair excitedly. A moment later, the door to the office opened and in came two men. They were dressed in black and white stripped clothing and were wearing black eye masks across their faces, along with their huge smiles.

"Hmmmm. You two don't look like robbers at all," William commented rather sarcastically, whilst looking them up and down.
Donald laughed softly. "Yeah, talk about inconspicuous. I'm surprised you haven't walked in with a large bag that has a money sign on it!"
"Sorry boss," said one of the men in a cockney London accent while looking over at Donald.
"Bosses you mean!" Said the other man as he nudged his partner and looked down at William, who sighed in frustration and shook his head.
"Never mind that now fellas. Have you got something to show us?" Interupted Donald.
"We do indeed Boss, we do indeed!"
A large bag was dragged into the room and its contents were uncarefully tipped onto the wooden table. Donald's mouth fell open upon the sight of what had been stolen.
"That's right. 18000 of the finest english pounds gentlemen!"
"Highly impressive I must say," said William in a much more low key manner than Donald, who was grabbing the money with both fists and staring at it with glee.
William leaned forward and began to touch the rest of the goods on the table. "And I see that there are a few additions as well."
"Yes Boss. Indeed there are." said one of the robbers as they both eventually whipped off their masks.
"A glamorous woman's necklace. A diamond earing." He continued searching through the pile. "And an expensive looking pen! Well every little helps I guess."
"Fantastic fellas. Real good job!" Exclaimed Donald who was still staring with awe at the result of this particular criminal operation. The feeling he got from the success had never gone away, even though he had experienced it countless times now. Had this given him a reason to stay in the game? "We'll get this counted up and seperated into piles. As a token of goodwill and gesture, you will both recieve 2000 pound each."

William shot his widened eyes at his partner, in surprise at the reward the two goons were set to recieve. But the goons reacted in a much different manner than either William or Donald had expected. They took off their hats and held them with both hands in front of their bodies, as they glanced sheepishly at each other.
"Actually, we-we wanted to discuss something with you," stuttered one of the men.
"Oh really?" Asked William with his dauntingly wide eyes, "And what would that be?"
"You tell 'em Arch," said one of the men
"You tell 'em!" Replied the other with a large amount of anxiety.
"Spit it out one of you!" Shouted Donald, with both frustration and curiosity.
Archie sighed and eventually began to speak. "Me and Rich here have been thinking...that perhaps we-we-we should get a little more...you know, as a good gesture to our loyalty and good work and all that."
"Oh do you now," replied William in a calm manner as he flicked his cigarette over the ashtray. "You believe that you have earned that much?"

The robbers hesitated, but after a couple of moments they nodded anxiously.
"The thing is Boss, we've never let you down. We always do the job, and we always do it well." Rich started to laugh as he recalled the events of the train robbery he and Archie had earlier performed. "You should have seen them on that train Boss. We stormed on like nobody’s business, and once we flashed our guns, I've never seen wallets and purses come out of people's pockets so quickly!"
"Oh I don't doubt that fellows, I'm sure that you had the public shaking in their boots!" William did a little shuffle in his chair as he said this. "But let me enquire...where would you be without us?" The man stood up at this point, which caused the two goons to step back slightly. They didn't answer the question, assuming that it was rhetorical. "I'll tell you where you would be gentlemen. You would still be lying in your own dirty filth on the streets of London, using those hats of yours to acquire excess change from the passing people pathetic enough to care about you...Either that or they would come useful as a sick bucket of all the gin that could not inhabit your rotten stomachs anymore."
The robbers looked down at the floor in shame and embarrassment, perhaps realising the reality of their situation they were in.
"Thanks to me and Donald here. And our money. You have weapons. You have the fastest getaway car in all the United Kingdom. You have up to date information on where and when to strike. And most importantly, you have a livelihood. What more could you ask for?...A lot of men would kill to be in the situation you are in, and your ungratefulness is leading to me to question whether you two are the right men for this type of work anymore."

The goons began to panic, "N-N-N-No-No!!!" They stuttered, tripping over their words. William smirked and little out the slightest of chuckles. "Exactly what I thought."
Donald also let out a laugh, in admiration of how his colleague handled that situation. "Don't you worry fellas, your efforts have not gone unnoticed." The elderly man reached down and opened a draw on the old wooden table and a moment later, a bottle of champagne appeared in his hand along with the huge smile across his face.

"Now that is an expensive drink we refer to as champagne," said William sarcastically again, "ever heard of such a thing?"
The goons nodded, but kept their eyes fixed with amazement on the fizzing bubbles that filled the large bottle.
"How much did that set you back, if you don't mind me asking Boss?" enquired Archie.
Donald shrugged as he placed 4 drinking glasses on to the table. "How the hell should I know? We have a crate of these stolen off a boat in France!" He boasted as the *#+% was popped and the goons jumped with surprise. He immediately began to pour the foamy liquid, chuckling all the while. Archie and Richie joined in with the laughter, sensing that the atmosphere had become more relaxed.

And as the sun finally disappeared over the rolling hills, these four men celebrated the fortune they had acquired. Miles away, a couple of police cars were roaming the countryside roads searching in dwindling hope of finding those responsible for yet another train robbery. But these criminals knew that they were safe from capture in this remote cottage. Safe in the knowledge that they would live to fight another day and terrorise the English public once again. So they drank and were merry long into the night, not yet thinking about what tomorrow would bring.
_

New York, USA, 1958

What a time to arrive in the big apple, thought Mary, as she stepped out onto the lonely train station platform at grand central station, deep into the night. It wasn't exactly bitterly cold, but the young woman could hear the rain battering against the roof that currently sheltered her. She looked right to left and couldn't see another soul in sight. Not a single gentleman present, who would be her knight in shining armour and help her with these suitcases.

After finally managing to drag the bags into the main lobby area, Mary glanced up at the large clock that kept a watch over the massive room, that sheltered only a couple of drunks, who were sleeping, and had yet to be moved. To see it with a little more accuracy, she put her glasses on. Just past 12:30 am. No wonder the place was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. A sudden gust of wind swept through the hall and caused Mary to hunch her arms around her body, that was kept reasonably warm by her large light brown wool coat with big round black buttons. However the piece of clothing was only so long that it reached just above her knees, that wobbled in the chill of America's biggest modern city. I really should have worn tights today, thought the woman regrettably, while her long light brown hair waved in all manner of directions.

After much hesitation, Mary eventually decided to make her way outside. She stopped and let go of her bags once more as she stepped out of the doorway, but not so far out that she wasn't still protected by shelter that was holding up the huge midnight downpour. A low, distant humming of vehicles could be heard from the nearby roads, but Mary was hesitant of venturing out so far without the certainty of being able to find a cab. This really was a sticky situation. The young lady turned her head in hope of catching a glimpse of a member of staff back inside, but even that proved an impossible task. Where on earth was everybody? Were the Russians about to invade or something?

Her prayers were suddenly answered though when a ford deluxe bright yellow cab pulled up, seemingly out of nowhere. The passenger window closest to Mary opened.
"Hey little lady, you look like you need a ride!" Came a voice from the darkness. The woman folded her arms across her body to keep warm, while she bent down slightly to peer into the vehicle. She caught sight of what looked like a middle aged Italian-American looking man leaning across his front passenger seat with a pleasant smile written across his face.
"Boy do I!" exclaimed Mary.
The kind cab driver opened his door and rushed out. He seemed unconcerned that the rain fell down upon him as he strolled around the big yellow lump of metal, and by the time he got to the sidewalk, he was completely drenched. This didn't deter him from picking up Mary's bags with ease and slinging them into his boot. Mary guessed his many years of working had built up a natural strength to be efficient in such circumstances. Without looking at her again, the driver made the journey back around the cab and into his seat. Mary soon followed suit by jumping into the back.

"Where ya headin' honey?" Asked the man as he looked up at his main mirror.
Mary reached deep into her large coat and eventually got a hold of a small piece of paper. She leaned forward and held it out. The driver didn't notice at first but then turned his head slightly to the right and saw the paper dangling close to his ear. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and then quickly took a hold of it. Mary waited patiently as he stared down at his lap, where the information was placed.
"Ah, upper west side," he said nodding his head, "I know this address. You visiting someone there?"
"I'm going to be living there actually. Renting a place."
"Get atta here!" Shouted the driver with enthusiasm
"Excuse me? You want to me to leave?" asked Mary very confused.
"Not at all honey. An expression is all it is. I'm jus' bustin' your balls!"
"I'm lost."
"Ah forget about it!" Said the driver as we waved away this particular conversation, and set off the cab.

"So...that's a funny accent you have there. Where do you hail from?"
"England. This is the first time I've properly stepped foot in the States"
"No kiddin'! And what brought you across the pond in the first place?"
"The Gazzelle."
"You got a job at the big Gazzelle? That's the paper I read!"
"Really?" Asked Mary, enthusiastically
"Oh yeah, it's the best in my opinion. Good stories. You'll have your work cut out competing with some of the guys at that place. And those guys give you a job just like that do they?...Maybe I should apply. What chances do you reckon a chump like me has of getting work at that place?"
Mary laughed. "I've been reporting for a few years now, and finally decided it was time to step up. England was getting a little boring I've gotta say."
"Big fish in a small pond huh."
"Something like that."

The conversation soon drifted off. Mary was grateful that this particular cab driver was friendly and all, but she felt drained. And not just from the journey all the way from her hometown in England, but also from the anxious thoughts that had clogged her mind ever since she stepped on to that train. She was excited, no doubt about that. But she also felt the contradictory emotions that she supposed were only natural. Either way, the inner rollercoaster was leaving little energy for light hearted conversation with the person that was taking her to her new home. Mary felt herself nodding off and allowed herself to rest her eyes, while the cab navigated itself through the city streets that were deserted at this late hour. She would open her eyes once in a while, when she sensed a flash of light pass by her, and see glamorous people leaving late night bars and parties that were surrounded by buildings taller than she had ever seen. So this is what they mean by 'the city that never sleeps'.

Mary awoke at the feeling of suddenly becoming stationary. She sat up straight from her slumped position and darted her eyes through the windows at her surroundings, before looking forward towards the driver’s seat. The cab drivers head turned, and he had the same smile that he was wearing when he picked her up at the station. For all Mary knew, it never went away during the ride.
"Here we are," he said in a lower and softer voice than before. Even he seemed to be winding down now.
Mary let out a little smile and left the vehicle. Before she could think about opening the boot, the small ran scurried to the rear of the vehicle and quickly placed her bags on the sidewalk. Still standing dazed and confused, the woman saw the cab driver get back into his money maker and routinely put his seat belt back on. He looked at Mary and winked.
"Welcome to the greatest city in the world sweetie," he said kindly before driving off into the night of this concrete jungle.

Mary sighed and then took in her sorroundings, as hard as it was at this hour. The area was well lit by a row of street lamps on either side of the road and there were various different cars (some expensive) parked near the tall and lifeless building that she assumed contained her one bedroomed apartment. After another mammoth effort of dragging her suitcases up the wooden stairs, Mary eventually found herself at a door that plainly said '23' in the middle of it. As the number '23' had no particular importance to her, she did not stay outside the apartment for long and quickly let herself in. She instantly felt a chill hit her as she entered into darkness. The kind of feeling that let her know that somebody had not been in there for a long time. The woman wasted no time in turning the light on, and dropping her bags on the floor with an unconcerning thud.

The apartment was reasonably pleasant upon first glance. Immediately to her left was a small round wooden table that was accompanied by 2 dark red wooden chairs. To her right was a narrow plain looking kitchen. While the fridge, sink, cooker and various drawers were white, the counter surface was covered with green tiles, as was the wall that sorrounded it. And directly in front of her was what was supposed to be the 'living area'. This contained a light blue couch and also a light red comfortable looking chair. Both were facing the corner, where a small television stood, looking back at the whole room that was encompassed by very light green wallpaper.

Mary nodded in appreciation. When she was told by her mother that her uncle would be willing to give her an apartment in the "heart" of New York, she was sceptical to say the least. She was now feeling like she had jumped the gun a bit, because even with the stress she was under at this minute, she found it hard to come up with an immediate criticism. Perfect? No. Suitable? Absolutely! At this moment, Mary suddenly became aware of a ticking noise that no doubt had been there since she entered. Looking across the room, the woman saw a clock on the wall. 1:30 am! Yikes, I better get to bed! She thought.

Mary didn't bother to unpack her bags, that task could wait until tomorrow. Her main worry right now was to get enough sleep for the big day that was to come. She did however extract her alarm clock and pop it on the bedside table. As she hit the matress and plunged herself into darkness though, all the nagging thoughts and reservations that had been stressing her out all day were swirling around in her head. What is being a reporter in the big city really going to be like? Will I be cut out for it? Or have I just made the biggest mistake of my life? Mary sighed and turned over in her bed, as the flash of a passing street car danced on her bedroom wall.
_

Mary awoke earlier than she had expected the next morning. She quickly rubbed her eyes and turned her head to check the time, but at that moment, all she could see was a burry blob sorrounded by red. The woman reached over the bed to the table and fumbled around for her glasses. When she eventually put them on, she could see that her red alarm clock was not set to let off its annoying ring for another 30 minutes. Time for a nice breakfast then!

As Mary stirred a teaspoon of sugar into her dark coffee, she recalled the events of last night’s dreams. There was nothing that exciting, just images of her now previous life in the humble hills of Southern England that served to tell her that she had made the right choice coming to New York. She had friends and family there, and of course she would miss them a lot. However, her reporter's job at the local newspaper was holding her back and not releasing her full potential. Mary remembered that the last report that she handed in was about a local art exhibition evening in her small town. It was a dull story in her opinion, but was still considered the biggest news going! The woman was grateful to the paper for giving her the opportunity, but enough was enough. The editor kindly informed her that she was always welcome to come back if things didn't work out in New York, but Mary had a feeling that she wouldn't need that opportunity.

By the time the sun had fully risen, the young woman had taken a bus to downtown Manhattan and found herself in the elevator that was travelling up to the 5th floor. She was dressed particularly proffessional, eager to make the best first impression possible. She had a white pencil skirt on with a blue blouse, all covered up by her large brown coat that kept the lady warm as she travelled to this destination in the cold crisp morning. The handsome man next to Mary also had a large coat on, accompanied with a hat of the same colour. She wondered if this particular gentleman also worked at the gazzelle and considered striking up a conversation, but as the seconds slowly passed, it got to the point where it may have been even more uncomfortable to talk now. Luckily, the elevator came to a steady stop and opened up to reveal a narrow hallway. The man in the coat stepped out and turned left in a manner that suggested he had done this a thousand times before. As he strolled towards two large doors, Mary popped her head out and watched him go, but he disappeard into a large but extremely quiet room before she could grasp whether he was one of her new work collegues or not.

The whole place was silent, and it left Mary wondering whether she was in the right building or not. From the Gazzelle's reputation, you would have expected a little more going on up here. Suddenly though, the double doors from the right opened and out stepped a young man flicking through a few sheets of paper, with an incredible office noise coming with him. He caught sight of Mary out of the corner of his eye and stopped dead with surprise. Mary was equally caught off guard by his sudden entrance (or exit as it would seem), as the doors shut and the hallway was quiet again.

The two people remained in position and looked at each other for a few seconds.
"Hello," said Mary eventually, breaking the silence.
"Heya," replied the man nervously. "Do you work at the Gazzelle?"
"Erm, not yet, but I was hoping of starting today."
"Well..." said the man awkwardly, "You're in the right place." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder behind and sniggered.
"Oh great!...It sure is loud in there!"
"Tell me about it!"
The conversation went still again for a few moments.
"I'm Mary by the way."
"Mary! the new girl right?"
"That would be me!" Replied Mary, dreaming of the possibility that she was already the talk of the office.
"Right. Great. I'm Larry, pleasure to meet you." Larry offered his hand, and when Mary put hers forward, he grabbed it and shook it rather enthusiastically. "You're going to love it here, believe me."
"Fingers crossed," replied the woman as she held up her hands that actually had her fingers crossed. "Erm...So which way would I go to find Ralph Nicholson"
"Just-Just in here."

Larry opened one of the doors behind him and stepped aside to let Mary in. Upon entering, the woman was instantly hit with the hustle and bustle atmosphere that typified this newspaper. Men and women were buzzing around her and barely had a moment to pause and notice her presence. The sound of multiple typewriters was already nagging.
"Shall I take your coat?" Asked Larry, putting his hands out behind Mary in anticipation.
"Thankyou very much," she said as she shuffled it off her shoulders and let it fall into Larry's grasp.
"His office is at the other end. Let me know if you get lost!" he laughed awkwardly.
"Will do La..." Mary turned her head and found that Larry was no longer behind her. No doubt he had dissappeared back into the busy routine that had swallowed up everybody here. The woman now felt uncomfortable standing still with everything going on around her, and decided to head towards the office that Larry had pointed at. As she passed people's desks, only a couple looked up, but didn't really register that she was the "new girl". The others were deep into phone conversations, even with a few raised voices here and there!

Eventually Mary reached the doorway that had "Ralph Nicholson: Editor" clearly printed on there. She raised her hand and was about to knock when she was interupted.
"I wouldn't do that if I was you sweetie," came a womans voice from her right. Turning her head but keeping her clenched fist in position, Mary saw a middle aged woman sat at her desk with a red phone held down against her shoulder and a cigarette in her other hand.
"Mr Nicholson does not take kindly to people turning up unannounced," She said with confidence and raised eyebrows.
"I'm Mary...the new girl."
"You could be the king of England for all he cares. I'll have to let him know." The secretary put the phone against her ear again. "I'll have to call you back Miles!" she shouted before putting the phone back onto it's hook. She pressed a button on her speaker and leaned forward.
"Mr Nicholson, the new reporter..I think..is here...ok." She slammed down the phone. "He says you can go in now."

Mary smiled with appreciation, but the secretary was unconcerned and got on with her work once again. Knocking gently first, Mary then entered by slowly opening the door and edging her way into the Boss's room. She instantly saw a fantastic view of the city, that was on show through the large window that stretched from the back of the room all the way to the left, leaving only half the room enclosed with a wall. There was a desk close to the window and behind it was a large black leather chair that was currently facing towards the epic view.

"Shut the door. Quickly," came a deep voice from the chair.
Mary did as she was told and when she did, the room plunged into a tranquil state that was in complete contrast to what was happening in the office. This was helped by the light music playing on the large record player that sat up against the blue wall.
Eventually the chair span around and sat on it was a middle aged man who was strikingly bald and dressed in a light blue suit. Upon seeing Mary, a frown came upon his face.
"Hey Tuts. Where the hell is my coffee?" He asked with his arms wide open
Mary froze in position, out of fear and confusion as to why their conversation had started this way.
"Your coffee sir?" She replied, trying desperately to keep her composure.
"I sent you to get me coffee a lifetime ago. Did you go to Guatemala to pick the beans yourself!?
Mary paused, giving Mr Nicholson the chance to realise the mistake he was making. But as his glum stare held, she realised that this was not going to happen any time soon.
"I'm Mary. Your new reporter...starting today."
"Reporter? Today?" The frown and lines on the man's face were becoming more apparant, the more he thought about it.
"Yes. Mary Dingleby. At your service." The woman saluted, trying to induce a little humour, but it went rather unnoticed.
Mr Nicholson grabbed a bunch of papers that sat untidily on his desk and put on his glasses. But he then went on to peer over the top of them, and flick through the sheets to shed light on the situation. He eventually stopped his erratic shuffling and fixed upon one sheet in particular. Then his eye brows raised so high, it looked like they were going to lift off his forehead altogether.
"You're the english girl starting today!?"
"You...didn't know that?"

Suddenly the office door opened, and the consistent office noise flooded the room again, as a young and attractive blonde woman entered holding a cup of coffee.
"Hold the phone! My coffee has finally arrived!" shouted Mr Nicholson as he held his hands up to the ceiling. "I was beginning to think that you went all the way to Colombia to pick the beans yourself!"
Mary dared to say it. "Was it not Guatemala?"
"Tomayto-Tomato, Potayto-Potato!"
"I am so so sorry sir," began the young lady, "I was on my way to the..."
"I don't want your life story tuts. Just gimme gimme gimme!"
Shaking with fear, she headed over to the table and put the cup down next to him. He took a quick sip as the assistant tried to make a quick exit.
"I'll tell you somethin' for nothin' tuts. If this wasn't so damn fine, your ass would be out on the streets sellin' hot dogs!"
The young assistant hadn't managed to get out of the room when this remark was made, and although her face wasn't visible to Mary or Mr Nicholson, it was most probably bright red as she opened the door and stepped out hastily.

Mr Nicholson sat back in his chair, relaxed and somewhat pleased with how he dealt with that. He took another quick slurp from his coffee, which put a little smile on his face.=12.0pt "So where were we anyway?"
"I think we were discussing how unaware you are that you have a new reporter." Began Mary, sarcastically.
"You getting cherpy with me tuts?"
"No sir."
"Good. Because the biggest mistake you could make in this place is to assume I don't know what I'm doing..." man grabbed the sheet of paper again and pulled it towards his face. "Mary" he said assertively
Mary eyes grew bigger as she nodded along.
"The truth is, I handpicked you myself...Well that's not true. I don't even recall being here for the interview. But nothing gets past me! If I didn't think you were the right man...Woman! for the job, then you wouldn't be here!"
"Thank you for the vote of confidence sir. It means a lot."
"I hope it does..." The conversation went into an awkward silence as Mary awaited the first instructions of her new career.
"Sooooooooo....What would you like me to do today?"
"Today!?" Shouted Mr Nicholson as he shook in his chair and began to scramble around his table, anxiously looking through sheets of paper. "Today today today," he muttered to himself as he tried desperately to find the answer to Mary's question. Eventually he ceased the madness as he came across a document that caught his attention. He brought it up out of the mess and leaned back into his chair with a glimmer of a smile on his face.
"You're in luck tuts. This early evening, we have..." He paused for dramatic effect. "An art exhibition!"

Mary's self esteem dropped immediately. In fact, she felt as if it had completely escaped her body and decided to make a run for it. An art exhibition! Art!? New York promised the young lady so much. She dreamed of reporting on real life stories, blowing the lid on big cover ups, and bringing down the baddest of bad guys. To think that she had left her hometown for a job that gave her nothing more than her last made her feel like a dejected fool.

Mr Nicholson was unaware that his employee was stood there with a face as red as a tomato, and he leaned across his desk to press a button on his speaker.
"Hey Mary sweetie. Can you get Larry in here please? Right now? Tanks!"
He glanced up at the Mary now present. "Same name as you. Small world isn't it?" cherped the man.
A moment later, Larry entered the room with all the enthusiasm one would hope from a young ambitious reporter. "You wanted to see me sir?" He enquired with a pleasant smile on his face.
"Don't get too excited Larry, you're not getting a promotion. I was just checking if you're still going to the art exhibition at the met museum tonight."
"You bet I am sir."
"Good. Then you wouldn't mind taking..." Mr Nicholson looked down at the sheet of paper again. "Mary here would you."
"Not one bit sir," replied Larry holding his smile.
"Adda boy! Now get outta here, you're hanging around like a bad smell."
The young man exited the room as quickly as he entered it.

"Nice boy is Larry, if not a little annoying. He'll show you the ropes, don't worry about that."
"Not one bit sir."
Mr Nicholson began flicking through his sheets again, trying to make sense of the mess that lay in front of him.
"Was there anything else you wanted sir?" Asked Mary, wondering what she was to do for the rest of the working day.
"Hmmm?" Replied the man, glancing up and looking over his large glasses with raised eyebrows.
"The exhibition isn't until tonight." Mary looked at the clock on the wall. "That's a long way away sir. Shall I sit and twiddle my thumbs until then?"
"Well that would still be doing more work than half the chumps in this office...Talking about chumps..." Mr Nicholson pressed the button on the speaker again.
"Mary sweetie! Get Larry back in here!"
A moment later, Larry appeared in the room again with a collection of papers.
"Larry. What story are you working on today?"
"The coney island circus sir."
"Well forget about that horse dump, I want you to give..." He grabbed that sheet of paper again, "Mary here, a quick tour. And after that, give her a tour of the city. There's no point having both of you hanging around here being unconstructive."
"Righteo sir," replied Larry enthusiastically.
"Now scram, the pair of ya!!"

Re: The Adventures of Mary Dingleby

Postby Dick Dastardly » Tue Aug 16, 2016 10:46 pm

The two young reporters left Mr Nicholson's office abruptly, and Mary noticed that the noise of the busy working office now seemed a little more tranquil than what she had just experienced. The constant tapping of typewriters no longer played on her ears.
Larry looked over to Mr Nicholson's assistant Mary, who sat at her desk just outside his door.
"Hey Mary, could you get us a table at the Grande Bouleille in a few hours?" He quickly turned his head towards the young Mary and without a pause said, "You're going to love it!"
"Ermm Larry," replied Mary hesitantly as she tapped the man delicately on the back of his shoulder. "I just got to the city...Do you think I'm made of money?"
Larry let out a huge laugh and clapped his hands together, "Oh you don't have to worry about that. No-no-no, these kind of things are paid for by the Gazzelle. It-it's a business expense I think they call it."
The man turned his head back towards the assistant, who was more interested in staring at her type writer while enjoying her cigarette to take any notice of him.
"Mary?" He asked hopefully.
The woman pushed a telephone across the table in his general direction, without looking at him. "Do it yourself, can't you see I'm busy."

Larry was a little taken back by her attitude, and he adjusted his suit before parting his hair to the side in an attempt to regain composure. He glanced behind at Mary and let out a nervous little laugh, then leant down to take the telephone into his hand. He suddenly stopped, and slowly moved his eyes up to the assistant.
"Do you...have their number?"
_

After an uneventful tour of the building, Mary had exited the Gazelle and was amongst the great hustle and bustle of Manhattan. After much whistling and exaggerated arm movements, Larry eventually got them a cab, which took a short 15 minute ride through heavy traffic.

The waiter showed them to their table, that was placed at the back of the restaurant and next to the window. Larry made the first move to be the gentleman and went to take the woman's coat, but he was beaten to the punch by the sophisticated French waiter, who eased it off her back and delicately placed it at the back of her chair.
"Why thank you," said Mary graciously, impressed with such chivalry.
Larry sat down at his chair quickly in embarrassment and shuffled himself up close to the table. As Mary sat down, he noticed what she had been wearing underneath that large brown coat of hers.
"That's a-a...splendid blouse you have on there, if you-you don't mind me saying," Said the young man as he stared forward at the menu book and occasionally peaked glances across the table.
Mary looked down from her menu at the green top she was wearing. "Oh this thing?...Nooooooooo, it was just the first blouse I could find in my suitcase this morning" She said rather modestly.
"Your-your suitcase?"
"I haven't properly moved into my apartment yet you see. I got off a train deep into last night."
"Oh...right. So, where have you moved from?"
"Surely you can tell by my accent"
Larry sniggered nervously, "I...was just making sure"
Mary smiled. "Well I come from a small town called Sevenoaks. Bit of a ghost town if you ask me," replied Mary as she took a sip from her glass of water.
"And you were a reporter there?"
"Yes. Well...trying to be anyway. But in a small community like that, there's only so many stories that one can actually report on."
Larry nodded. "So you came to the big apple for more excitement?"
"Exactly."
"And here we are going to an art exhibition," said Larry as he bowed his head.
"I know, it's not ideal. I can't say I'm exactly thrilled about the whole thing. But what was I expecting? To waltz into the big time and get the best story going? I mean come on! How long have you been with the Gazzelle? Not long I imagine?" Asked the lady, taking a sip from her water once more.
"3 years."
Mary spluttered her water out of her mouth and all over the back of Larry's menu.
"That's right," said the man dejectedly as he lowered the book, "3 stinking years of getting bottom of the barrel stories."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously...I hope you have a lot of patience." The man carried on looking at his menu in a manner that suggested to her that he had accepted his place in society. He had an income, so why should he complain? Mary suddenly had the sinking feeling that she may soon become one of these people, just another cog in the ever-turning wheel of New York City. Nothing more than a single ant doing nothing special except keeping the wheel turning.
"I think I'll have some wine."
_

A large painting was hung high above the wall inside the met museum. As crowds of people wondered aimlessly around the large hall, Betty Balentine found herself powerless to be able to pull away from this particular picture. In the middle stood a beautiful white cottage, next to a calm river that reflected the glistening sunlight that enlightened the country landscape. The precision, range of colour and overall majesty of the piece froze her in her place.

"Exquisite," came a woman's voice from behind her. "Delightful. Absolutely divine!"
The voice belonged to Bettie's friend Nancy, who had not noticed the painting, but was instead staring at a glass of champagne that she held in her hand. She took another sip and gulped it down with her eyes closed.
"Oh my my. This makes the trip all worth while."
Betty turned her head and flashed Nancy evils.
"I mean!" Nancy adjusted her body to face fully at the painting in question, "it is a perfect accompaniment to what is already a very enriching evening."
Bettie rolled her eyes at the inappropriate behaviour of her friend and then continued to study the masterpiece.
The woman was dressed up for the occasion, wearing a nicely fitted red alika pencil dress that showed off her great figure. Her hair was well groomed, and fell down past her shoulders with a few curly locks. She held a small black handbag in front of her with one hand, whilst holding a glass of champagne with the other. Nancy also opted for the alika dress, but chose the white coloured variety, accompanied by long white leather gloves. Her hair was tied back in a bun.

"The owner of this museum said this is a Victorian painting" Began Betty.
"Really? You know the man who's in charge of this place? You must introduce me to him!"
"Nancy! You're a married woman!"
Nancy sniggered and dipped into her champagne once again. "So where exactly is the location of this picture? It doesn't look like New England to me."
"Old England supposedly. Cornwall I think he said."
"Cornwall," repeated Nancy. "Can't say I've ever heard of the place."
"Looks beautiful though doesn't it? Would love to go there some day."
"Well take me with you when you go please. Anything to get away from this city for a while would be much welcomed."
Betty turned to face her friend. "Nancy Mayfield. If one was to hear such musings from you like this, they would be inclined to think that you are not happy with Arnold. Is that the case?"
"Oh dearest, don't take this the wrong way, but you were married for what...5 years? Try living with a man for 12!"
"Hmm. So you are saying that I got out of the bear trap?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. And best of all, you have the pick of all these eligible bachelors," persuaded Nancy as she put her hand around Betty's shoulders and span her around, holding out her arm to the crowded hall of people.
"Give it a rest cupid. I'm here for the exhibition."

A waiter gracefully glided through the hallway, dancing in and out and around the guests of the party. He held a large tray of drinks with precision, and whilst on his way back to the kitchen to collect more, a hand grabbed at one of the remaining few that remained. Mary instantly took a sip from what she acquired and it illuminated her face.
"You know what? I don't think I've ever had champagne before."
"Never?" replied Larry, while anxiously darting his eyes around the room.
"Never. I could get used to living like this."
"Ok. We need to find Edward Andersen quickly."
"A friend of yours?"
"He's the owner of the museum, and the host of this exhibition show."
"What does he look like?"
Before Larry could answer, there was a small gathering around the large marble stair case that went up to the 2nd floor. A tall elderly gentleman, possibly in his early 60's slowly descended and linked arms with a woman of the same age. He carried a pleasant smile and raised his hand to wave at the people who stood at the bottom of the staircase eager to greet him. He eventually reached the bottom and disappeared into a swarm of people who spoke over each other and offered their hands to shake.
"That's the guy," said Larry, who reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket to retrieve a pen and notebook. He took a deep breath. "Let's go."
Mary scampered after him as the man hurried towards the stairs.

"Mr Andersen, New York Times here. Is this the most extravagant show that you have ever put on!?"
"Mr Andersen, Daily News. Is this a new age of art appreciation in New York City!?"
"Mr Andersen, what is art!?
Larry and Mary eventually appeared at the gathering, but they could do little else than peer over people shoulders and take notes. Larry attempted to ask a couple of questions himself, but was interupted by the constant muttering and shuffling between the reporters for a good position.
Eventually the owner, deciding he had enough, attempted to calm things down and move on. He raised his arms in the air and said "Ok good people, no more questions. But please enjoy the evening and help yourself to some fabulous..." he grabbed a glass from a tray, "Champagne!" Raising it in the air, the man did his best to hold his smile, until a photographer leaned out from the media circus and the flash from his camera blew up in his face. He then charged forward, and the group dispersed in fear of being caught in the one man stampede. Mary and Larry witnessed him head towards the far end of the hall room, cursing to his wife and he dragged her with him to escape a situation where he would do something he might regret.

The waiter continued his brisk stroll through the crowds, unaware that Mr Andersen had even taken a glass from him. Eventually he reached the kitchen double doors and turned his upper body round to ease himself through into another packed room of other waiters and chefs, who were preparing the light bites for the glamorous guests. The middle aged man placed his tray on the large kitchen top in the middle of the room, and headed towards the restroom, trusting that it would be full of champagne glasses once again when he returned. After walking down a short corridor, he reached a doorway and without looking grabbed the handle to open. However, the door was locked and the momentum took the man forward and he clattered into it. Caught by surprise, he looked down to see the words "occupied" clearly displayed on a piece of card that dangled from the door knob.
"Ooo, sorry!" He said in embarrassment, shortly before turning his back to wait patiently.
A moment later, the door opened so quicky that he did not have enough time to react to the hand that clamped over his mouth, and the other hand that pulled him into the restroom along with his muffled protests. The door slammed shut, with the "occupied" sign swinging side to side.

"So you're saying that we're not going to get an interview with Edward Andersen at all?" Demanded Mary, who stood at the side of Larry, staring into his red face.
"From what I've heard about the man, we'll be lucky to get an interview with him ever...This was our chance and we blew it! Mr Nicholson is going to kill me!"
"There must be something we can do?" replied Mary sympathetically when she saw Larry's head dip into his hands.
"Niente. Nadda. Our photographer will have the picutres no doubt...but we have nadda."
"We could...make up an interview based on the notes we took down?"
Larry raised his head for just one moment. "That would land us in deeper trouble."
"Don't beat yourself up Larry. We saw what he was like. Media shy. What can you do about a man who is media shy?"
"You don't know Mr Nicholson like I do. If he wants something, he expects it. No matter what. If the New York Times get an interview, we get two!"
Mary sighed in frustration. This wasn't shaping up to be what she wanted from her first day in the big city.

Betty stood with Nancy making small talk with the other guests, when she heard her name being called from a far. Responding to the urgency she heard in the man's voice, she pulled slightly away from the circle to see who it was. Coming towards her in a hurry was Edward Andersen with an arm raised high, waving in her direction. With a quick "excuse me" to the people she was currently in company with, the woman moved slowly towards Edward into a space where they could both meet. As the elderly gentleman emerged from the audience of watching eyes, Betty saw that his wife was by her side and had done well to keep up with him.

"Hello there. So glad you could make it," said Edward as he leaned down they politely kissed on the cheeks.
"Are you kidding me? I wouldn't have missed this for the world! Hi Rose," replied Betty, repeating the gesture to the elderly woman.
"Edward has been looking out for you all night," She said, stroking the arm of the husband she was linked to.
"Well it's just nice to have someone here who actually appreciates true art." Edward glanced around him and then leaned forward again. "To tell you the truth, most of the people here couldn't give a rat's ass!"
"Edward!" hissed Rose, gently hitting the man's arm. Bettie put a hand to her mouth, and giggled quietly.
"Well it's true! They're not here for me. They're here for champagne and to make business deals."
"Edward, you should have more faith in humanity," said Betty jokingly.
"Wait till you get to my age. If you have any faith left, then you truly are an angel believe me."

Nancy suddenly appeared in the space on Betty's right and politely smiled at both Edward and Rose before looking at her friend in a way that said "Introduce me please!"
Betty took the hint immediately. "Edward. Rose. This is my good friend Nancy Mayfield."
"Pleasure to meet you," said Nancy as she stepped forward and exchanged the same pleasantries with the married couple.
"No, the pleasure is all mine," replied Edward. "So tell me. What makes you a good friend of Betty here?"
"Well. We are in fact neighbours!" Said Nancy enthusiastically.
"Another resident of Harwood? Fantastic. A rather beautiful place if I must say so myself."
"And where do you reside Mr Andersen?"
"Please just call me Edward."
"Very well Edward," replied Nancy, bowing her head slightly.
"Well," The man looked down to his left at Rose, "we are SUPPOSED to be living in East Hampton."
WOW, screamed Nancy in her head.
"However," continued Edward, "This city keeps calling me. Over and over again, something brings me back. Whether it's this museum or one of my charities. So currently we seem to spend most of our time in our Manhattan apartment. Isn't that right Dear?"
Rose nodded. "Absolutely. Would I love to be at home more often? Sure. But as my darling husband just said, things keep coming up...And I am behind my man one hundred percent."
"You're a very lucky man Edward," remarked Betty graciously.
"Oh don't you worry Betty, I remind myself of that every single day," He said smiling, before gently kissing his wife on the lips. "Now if you excuse me ladies, I must return to the podium, or should I say the first two steps of that staircase."
The wealthy man was gone in a flash and was immediately followed by the media circus, desperately anxious to see his next move.

The women were set to continue a conversation, but were suddenly interrupted when a smartly dressed man arrived within their space, gliding in effortlessly to stand next to Nancy. He was a small man, with thick dark hair combed over to the side and large glasses that made his eyes look enormous. He did not seem the least bit threatening.
"Betty? Betty Balentine?" He asked softly in an upper class English accent, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the lady in question.
Betty placed her finger tips delicately on her chest in surprise, having never seen this man in her life. "Yes. That is me."
"My name is Charles Smith. I am a solicitor who represents, or should I say represented, a man named Donald Goldstein. Does this name mean anything to you at all?"
"Not at all Mr Smith...Can I ask what this is all about?"
"Miss Balentine, I think it would be in our best interests if we were to discuss this at a more suitable time and location," said Charles confidently.
"Are you certain that you have the right person Mr Smith?"
" I am certain my lady." The man reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small white envelope, handing it out to Betty. After a moment's hesitation, she eventually took it in her grasp. She looked up again at the mysterious man, who politely smiled and then turned away to head back where he came from. Betty was frozen in confusion as to what just took place. Nancy shuffled over next to the woman's shoulder to stare down at the card in question.
"Are you going to open it then?"
"I think I better had." Replied Betty quickly.

Opening the envelope, she pulled out a card displaying words that had been clearly done on a typewriter. It read Miss Betty Balentine. You have been invited to a meeting tomorrow at the Jessop building, 3rd floor, room 2, at 9:40 am. Your attendance would be greatly appreciated.

"Oh I know that place," said Rose, also staring down at the card
"You do?" Asked Betty
"Oh yes. Very executive. I wonder what that lawyer could possibly want?"
"Beats me. I guess I won't find out until tomorrow."
"You're going to go?" enquired Nancy.
"Yeah I think so. It won't do any harm to see what this is all about."
"It sounds very serious whatever it is," said Rose, "and that Jessop building is filled with nothing but serious men."
Betty stared off into the distance. "I guess I will have to close the store."
"Nonsense!" Insisted Nancy. "I can look after that place for you. Infact, I'd say that it will be a pleasure! A nice change from being the perfect housewife at home all day."
"Thank you Nancy. That's a huge weight off my mind."

"There he goes again," Noted Larry as he witnessed a crowd of buzzing people shift across the room.
Edward managed to get to the staircase without too much fuss, successfully blocking out the murmuring questions that bombarded him as he made his short journey. He began ascending the steps, and without looking back, it occurred to him that the gang of journalists would be gathered at the bottom and unconcerned about whether they were preventing anybody else from seeing or not. He therefore climbed a little higher than usual so that he could adequately see his friends and family who he wished to address. He turned around and clapped his hands together.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, if I could please have your attention."
At this moment, Mary, who was squashed against Larry and a bunch of other reporters at the bottom of the staircase, spotted a waiter unusually begin to make his way towards Mr Andersen. The gentleman was about to speak when he too noticed this and stopped in his tracks, wondering why one of his staff had picked THIS moment to offer him a drink.
"What on earth?"
The man stood next to him, holding out a tray, but his glare fixed upon Edward and he knew at this exact moment that something was amiss...but it was to late to react.
The waiter let go of the tray and swiftly put his arm around his neck. As the tray clattered and glasses smashed, a gun appeared and was pointing to the side of Edward's face. A chorus of gasps quickly followed.
"Ok, nobody move or grandpa gets it!" Shouted the man in a New York accent.
Edward sighed. "Hey, no need for the personal insults."
"Quiet!" He barked before addressing the crowd again. "Now I want everybody to stay exactly where they are and put there hands up!"
Everybody obeyed instantly, and for a second it even looked like the beginning of a Mexican wave. The only unwilling party at this point, was the security guard who stood at the double door entrance to the museum on the far side of the hall. He stared hard at the bad guy, and had one hand delicately pressed on his gun in the holster. But his plan was quickly foiled.
"I wouldn't do that if I was you my friend! One move and as I said...Grandpa gets it!"
Edward sighed again.
"Now you are going to open those doors behind you...and let my partner inside...You are to give him your gun and put up your hands like everybody else...Do I make myself clear!?"
The guard initially refused and kept his hand where it was, much to the anxiety of the men and women in the hall. The 'waiter' tightened his grip around Edwards neck and moved the gun even closer to his face, deciding that the guard needed a little prompt.
After further deliberation, he eventually complied and opened those doors. In stepped a small man, dressed in black and white stripped clothing. He strolled up and stopped next to the guard holding out his hand. Grudgingly, the gun was handed to him, and like everybody else in the room his hands went up.
"Thanks," said the small man arrogantly before putting all his weight into a punch that landed into the guard's stomach, instantly putting him to the ground. After a quick shake of the wrist and a gasp from some of the close witnesses, the goon set off walking again towards the right side of the room, where the majority of the paintings were hung up on display.

The crowd literally split in half as he went along, creating a corridor that led to the wall.
"What are you looking at!" He barked at someone as he walked briskly up to the Victorian painting that Betty and Nancy had been looking at. The baddie took it off it's hinges and did the same to 3 other smaller paintings that were in close proximity. After gathering them under his arm, he turned around with the intention of heading back outside to the getaway van that awaited him and his partner. However, he caught sight of Rose at the front of the crowd stood alongside Betty and Nancy. All 3 had their hands up just above their shoulders, with disapproving looks across their faces as well.

"That's a...very nice necklace you have on there lady," Said the robber as his eye glistened at the sight of the pearls around the elderly woman's neck. Rose held her glum stare, knowing that she was powerless to resist if the man decided to take them. He approached slowly, keeping his eyes firmly on the prize.
"Leave her alone!" Shouted Edward with authority. "You have what you came here to get!"
The baddie smirked and turned to face the staircase. "You ain't exactly in the position to tell me what to do!"
"I said leave her alone!" Shouted Edward again, forcing the grip around his neck tighten and the gun to move even closer to the skin of his face. The man chuckled and delicately took the necklace in his grasp, letting it brush through his fingers.
"You'll never get away with this," said Betty suddenly.

The evilly smiling eyes quickly darted to the woman, but he found it hard to focus solely on her eyes.
"And what do we have here?" He moved closer to the woman to get a better look at her. "My my. Perhaps we could push the boat out and take you as well?" He was standing directly in front of her now.

"Grandpa's right Shaun!" Shouted the other robber. "We have what we want. Let's get out of here now! No use hanging around."
The man kept his eyes fixed upon Betty for the time being, going over the possibilities in his head. Eventually, Jim shrugged his shoulders in reluctant agreement and eventually began moving again, even more swiftly than his entrance. His partner then began to walk down the staircase, bringing Edward with him and still holding the gun to his head.
"Now nobody do anything stupid. Keep your hands up, and nobody gets hurt."
He passed Mary and Larry, who also had their hands up, and made his way towards the large double doors. A corridor emerged as the crowd separated side to side, just like for his partner, and the baddie walked backwards towards the exit. He began fast at first, mostly out of anxiety, but he soon calmed down and slowed the pace. As he got to the double doors he stopped to look around the hall. After reassuring himself, the man retrieved his gun, as well as his grip on Edward.
"Now you all have a pleasant evening."
He was gone in a flash.

The people waited for a couple more moments, before collectively relaxing their arms. There were some sounds of great relief, but the majority turned to look at their friends and family with faces filled with shock. It was unlikely that anybody had been part of such an event as this, and now seemed like many were confused as to what to do next.
Rose, Betty and Nancy rushed at once to Edward Andersen, who was surprisingly the calmest out of everybody. His wife put his arms around him and sunk her head into his chest.
The man looked to his right at the security guard, who had finally recovered from the punch he received to the body.
"Call the police immediately," he ordered assertively before embracing Rose.
"Ladies, are you alright?"
"Never mind about us Edward, what about you?" cried Rose looking up. "They had a gun to your head!"
"Oh my dearest wife, have you already forgotten the war? I experienced a great many things that were worse than this."
"But what about your paintings?"
"Don't worry about that, the main thing is that everybody is safe. They were amateurs, I could tell. The police should be able to pick them up by the end of the week."

The police came at once to the scene of the crime, and quickly announced that if anybody came into direct contact with the criminals, then they were to stay behind and answer some informal questions. This involved Edward, Rose, Betty and Nancy, as well as the security guard and the remaining museum staff that were working that evening. So the majority of the crowd dispersed, desperate to go home and forget that tonight ever happened. A picture of how the two robbers achieved their goal was being painted.

Larry stepped out in to the night air of New York with his hands deep in his coat pockets. He trotted down the steps, feeling crestfallen.
"Come on Larry, why the long face?" Asked Mary excitedly, as she followed closely down.
They both stopped on the sidewalk.
"We didn't get the big story Mary. There's nothing good that has come out of tonight."
"What about what just went down with the robbery. Don't you consider that big news?"
"Big news that every newspaper in the city has got a hold of. And knowing the New York times, they will have somebody very close to Edward Andersen who will be getting that exclusive interview of his reaction to it. We're totally out of our depth here."
"Ok, I hear you. We're not in the best position are we. Mr Nicholson sent us here because it was a nothing story of an art exhibition that most people don't actually care about. And with what's just happened now, no doubt he'll get someone from his A-team on it to get some inside knowledge."
"Inside knowledge? What are you talking about? A couple of guys robbed the place for some expensive paintings. They're going to try sell them on the market, and if they're as stupid as they looked, they'll get arrested before they actually do that."
"Yes, that is what it looks like on the surface."
"And that's all there is to it right?"
"I'm not so sure."
Larry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
"Assuming that those two robbers really are just a couple of guys that saw an opportunity open, how on earth can they be expected to know where to go to turn those paintings into cash?"
Larry looked perplexed.
"Surely if they went to all that trouble to get those paintings, they would have a buyer lined up." Continued Mary
"Who?"
"Someone with money most importantly. Perhaps an art enthusiast. Perhaps someone who just wants to take it off those goon's hands and sell it on himself. If it is someone who deals in stolen goods as famous as this, then that could mean that there is a whole network of these people."
"What people?"
"Criminals who make money by selling on stolen goods. Not every bad guy walks around holding up banks and stores. These people look like your average Joe. They hide in plain sight, hold down respectable jobs and keep up appearances. The reason why they never get caught is that the police never look for these people, they don't trace the network and find out who is operating behind the scenes."
"So what are you saying. Those two bad guys have a boss? Somebody who put them up to this?"
"Somebody who stands to make a bigger profit, even though they didn't do the robbery themselves. Most likely someone on the inside."
"Edward Andersen?"
"Unlikely... seeing him tonight it looks like he's very much in the limelight all the time in the New York art world....Although," Mary looked off into the distance. "Maybe he uses that to his advantage! Nobody would ever think that such a kind and generous man with a social standing like his is capable of ripping off his own place. The police would never even consider that! Especially when he had a gun to his head. The whole thing could have been one big act."
"You really believe that?"
"I don't believe anything yet, there's no evidence linking this to anyone but the two robbers at the moment. Maybe it will turn out to be nothing, but we have to give it a try and get to them before the police do."
Larry chuckled. "And how on earth do we manage that? We have nothing to go off! Zilch!"
Mary smirked. "How close do you think we were to the guy who was holding Edward Andersen?"
"I don't know. 10 feet away?"
"And he passed us didn't he, as he went to escape through the entrance."
"Yeah. He came right past us. He was probably only a matter of inches at that point looking back."
"Too right he was. He turned around next to us so that he was walking backwards."
"That's right."
"Nobody else noticed, but as he did this, something dropped out of his pocket."
Larry's eyes widened. "Really? What?"
Mary dipped into her coat pocket and pulled out a small sheet of paper, crimpled up. "It was scrunched up in a ball. I put my foot on it straight away, not even thinking about it."
Larry took it from the woman and looked at it. "A receipt from Pisa Pizza? But-but-but that's only a few blocks from here!"
"I see," said Mary smiling.
"So they must have gone there some time. Possibly even today before the robbery took place!"
"That's right. What are the chances of them being regulars do you think?"
"Who knows."
"But there is a good chance that the owner might recognise them right? And we already know that one of them is called Shaun."
"yeah that's right."
"So I say we go check it out."
"When? Tomorrow?"
"No way! Their faces will be in the news by then. We have to get there before the lightning strikes. Tonight!"
Larry shifted and re-arranged his glasses with one hand nervously. "I don't know Mary."
"What are you talking about!?"
"I think we're already in enough trouble as it is. I'm not too keen on making things worse."
"Larry!"
"It's too quick Mary. I'm-I'm not used to all this. Can't we wait until tomorrow?"
Mary tilted her head and let out a half smile.

Re: The Adventures of Mary Dingleby

Postby Dick Dastardly » Wed Aug 17, 2016 2:16 am

An Italian-American man, aged around his early thirties, was counting the money in the till of thr pizza joint that he cooked in.
"See you tomorrow Tony," came a woman's voice from the side.
The waitress lifted up the bar and moved into the customer side, before dropping it down again, then smiling flirtatiously at Tony.
"You have a safe journey home Joanna," he replied smiling back. Once she left and he was no more distracted, he got back to the task he was quickly trying to finish so he could get out of here.
But the bell rang again at the diner entrance, and the young man looked up expecting the attractive waitress to re-enter saying that she had forgotten her purse or something. That would have been the ideal scenario. Instead, what was approaching him was somebody he had never seen before.
"Sorry, we're closed for tonight. You should try again tomorrow."
Mary walked up to the counter confidently. "I'm not here for pizza."
"Well pizza is all we do sweetheart. I'd head to China town if you're looking for that kind of stuff, cause me and my pap sure as hell don't know how to use a wok!"
"I'm not here for Chinse food either. I'm not here for food full stop. My name is Mary Dingleby from the Gazzelle."
Tony stopped counting the money and closed the till. "You guys did a piece on us only last week. What's the deal? Trying to find out the secret to why we're the best in town?"
"I'm actually here to ask you about two of your customers that came here possibly this evening."
"Lady, we have customers coming in here all the time. Night and day. And between you and me, my memory ain't the best. What's this all about?"
"Two males who recently bought a pizza from here robbed an art exhibition just a few blocks away this evening. They left a receipt at the scene of the crime."
"Yeah?" Asked Tony surprised.
Mary nodded and then reached into her pocket, retrieving the scrunched up piece of paper and handing it over to the man. He snatched at it with curiosity.

"Hey Pap! Come and take a look at this!" Shouted Tony without moving his eyes from the evidence.
Appearing from the kitchen came a small fat elderly man, who walked up slowly to his son, unaware of the seriousness of the conversation. "What?" He said moodily, standing slightly behind him.
"Take a look at this. Supposedly this is a receipt of some people who robbed some art thing tonight. They was here Pap."
"Let me see that," demanded the man, snatching it out of his son's hand. He stared at it in detail through the large glasses that he wore, testing it's authenticity.
"A pepparoni and chilli, with a chicken calzone. That's a regular order."
"Does that regular order happen to be from two men?" Enquired Mary, feeling that she was already getting somewhere.
"I can't really say. It ain't any of my business what's gone down tonight." Replied the father, handing the receipt back to the reporter.
"It is your business, believe me... The police are already out there looking for these two men. If they get hold of any information like this and find out that you are trying to cover for them, they'll assume you may be in on it."
"But we ain't!" Said Tony, looking worried.
"I'm not saying you are," replied Mary reassuringly, while holding her hands up. "But the cops won't see it that way. They'll have officers down here so fast it'll make your head spin. Can a place with your reputation and popularity have that going on?"
The two Italian men looked at each other nervously.
"Ok. I don't know too much about them really, they keep themselves to themselves. All I know is that they live in the Bronx and drive a white van. They turn up here probably once every two weeks."
Mary had her notebook out and was furiously scribbling down this information. "Were they here tonight?"
The father nodded.
"Do you know their names? What do they look like?"
"They're Irish." The elderly man spat on the floor, much to the dismay of his son and Mary.
"Irish Irish? Or American-Irish?"
"American I think. But they're all the same to me are those mics, whether they were born here or across the pond."
"And the names?"
"I know that one is called Jimmy. That's for sure." Said Tony squinting his eyes. "But the other kid? hmmm."
"Shaun?" popped Mary.
"Shaun, that's the one," He replied enthusiastically.
"They're kind of tall," interupted the father, much less enthusiastically. "One's a red head. Strange breed of people. And the other has dark, thick hair like. Both a bit of stubble I guess. Like to wear leather jackets."
"This is great stuff guys," said Mary, continuing to write. "Really great. You got anything else for me?"
"That's it I think." Replied Tony, pleased with himself. "So these guys really did a number on an art gallery?"
"They really did." Answered Mary, putting her pen and notebook back into her large pocket. "Stole some paintings. You'll be able to read about it in tomorrow's paper no doubt."
"So are you helping the cops catch these guys?"
Mary paused to consider. "Yeah...sure."
_

The next morning, the Jessop building was already thriving under the busy working atmosphere. Serious businessmen were filled with strong coffee and ready for action, passing each other in the hallway on the way to important meetings that were to dictate the rest of the day. Their focus and determination meant that only a minority would even say "good morning" or "hello" to each other upon sight, despite many being colleagues, possibly friends for a long time. They would tell you that there is no room for sentiment if you're going to succeed in this city. Many would find this world daunting. Intimidating. Not for Charles Smith though. This was his world. He wasn't as cold hearted as the rest of them, infact, many had said that he was the only lawyer with a heart, and his welcoming manner gained trust from an all manner of people.

The Englishman sat on a couch by the reception desk, sipping the water that the receptionist kindly got for him when he entered 15 minutes ago. The Reception doors opened and he looked up, just as he had the last 10 times that he heard that noise. However, this time, his patience was finally rewarded.

"Miss Balentine. So glad you could make it," he said gratefully, standing to meet the woman.
She was wearing a blue ashley pencil dress, with white dots all over, along with white leather gloves and white high heeled shoes. Closely following behind her was a man in his 50's, dressed smartly in a grey suit. Charles was prepared to offer his hand to shake, but felt that everything was too mysterious at this point for such pleasantries.
"Good morning. This is my lawyer," Said Betty, holding up her hand and loosely pointing over her shoulder with her fingers. "Well actually. He represents Edward Andersen on a more regular basis, but would you mind if he was sit in our conversation?"
"Not at all Miss Balentine, whatever makes you feel more at ease."
"Thank you Mister Smith."
"Please. Just call me Charles."

Just further down the hall, Charles opened a door and stood to the side to let in Betty and her lawyer for the day. The two stepped into a large conferance room, that was filled mostly by one of the longest wooden tables that Betty had ever seen.
"Yes, rather larger than what we truly needed, but it was the only room I could get on such short notice," began Charles, moving to the seat at the head of the table that was closest to the doorway. "Please." He continued, pointing at the chairs closest to him.
Betty sat down gracefully at first and crossed one leg over the other, before her lawyer sat down beside her, so that both people were on Charles' right side.

The englishman opened his briefcase and pulled out a few sheets of paper that he regarded as very important.
"Ok. I'll try to get straight to the point and not waste too much time beating around the bush. I don't think that would benefit either party here. Miss Balentine, if you recall the events of last evening, I asked you if you were aware of a man named Donald Goldstein. You responded that you did not know him. Is that still the case?"
"That's correct."
"Ok... Donald Goldstein is your mothers cousin."
Betty squinted her eyes in concentration and looked off to the wall. "Hmm. I recall her mentioning that she had cousinsthat she no longer kept in contact with. But she sure never mentioned a Donald Goldstein."
"I can't say I'm all too surprised. Like your mother, he was raised in Long island..."
"But how do you know that about my mother?" Asked Betty curiously.
"Because what I am about to discuss also concerns your parents. I travelled to Florida yesterday to speak to them directly. And now I am here to discuss how this concerns you."
Betty nodded but was very confused. Charles allowed her to regain her composure before he continued his train of thought.
"So as I said, Donald was raised in Long Island like your mother. By his mid 20's, he was a reasonably successful business man and made quite a fortune. But after the wall street crash, he emigrated to England during the great depression. Now, speaking to the authorities in this country," The man grabbed a sheet of paper, "they lost touch of him. Completely. They are unaware that his wealth grew substantially from various different business ventures."

"Ok," said Betty, trying to take the information in. "And what has this got to do with me? I've never met the man."
"Miss Balentine, Donald Goldstein passed away one week ago."
"Oh my."
"Yes, it's very sad news. But he was an elderly gentleman and seeing him in the final scenes of his life, I could see that he was at peace."
"That's good to know."
"However, the letter he left with me, trusting that I would not read it until his final death, revealed that he was not always at peace. Having only represented Mr Goldstein in the final 5 years of his life, I am largely unaware of the life he led before that. He was a bit of a closed book in all honesty. But with the words I read, I could feel that he had a lot of regrets. And it is clear that he had spent his latter years trying to make amends for his mistakes. Especially with regards to his family...And when he means family, he includes you as well miss Balentine."
"He knew who I am?" Asked Betty, placing her hand delicately on her chest.
"Oh yes, very much so."
"I find that very surprising Charles, I really do."
"Well perhaps what you are about to find out will be even more surprising."
"How so?"
"As well as owning a number of business's in England, Mr Goldstein also had a number of ventures right here in New York. One particular one was an art dealership. He had acquired it perhaps 10 years ago, but the nature of this acquisition was rather mysterious as he had not set foot in New York since he was a younger man. It was only within the most recent years that he had taken a particular interest in the business. He owned 70% of this highly successful art dealership. And now he has decided to leave that...to you."
Betty gasped.
"That's right. He was aware of your love for art, and he saw nobody fitter to take up the reigns and keep it going."
"Are you serious? I walk in here having no clue who Donald Goldstein is, and now you're telling me that I own an art dealership?"
"That is correct Miss Balentine."
"This is...There are no words."
"However, there is one condition."
"Yes?"
"Shortly before passing away, Mr Goldstein came into the possession of an extremely valuable painting. One that he had been searching far and wide for."
Betty and the lawyer looked at Charles, anxious to know what it was that he was talking about.
"The mourning breeze.”
Betty's mouth fell open in complete disbelief. "The mourning breeze? Are you serious!?
"That's right. An exquisite piece. And now it is in your possession."
"Wow Wow Wow!" Exclaimed Betty holding her palms together and smiling with glee.
"The condition though," Interupted Charles leaning forward, reminding the woman that the conversation had not yet finished. "The condition is that you sell this painting, and donate all of the proceedings to charity."
Betty calmed herself quickly, sat back in her chair and looked to the window across from her with a straight face. "Of course. If these are my uncle's wishes, then I will be more than pleased to carry them out."
Charles let out a soft smile. "I am very glad to hear that Miss Balentine."
The woman then sat up and leaned forward again on to the table. "But what about the other 30%? How does that affect all this?"
"Ah, now this is a rather tricky part of the process that we are still trying to iron out...The other 30% of the business belongs to a man we believe is named William Crocket."
"William Crocket?"
"That's right. We assume that he knew Donald, because they both invested into this art dealership together, but since the passing away, we haven't heard anything from him. All means of trying to contact the man have so far been fruitless."
"Are you sure that he really exists?"
"Oh yes, quite sure. He is alive and well, and we know that he currently resides in England. But his specific whereabouts? That is another question."
"I see."
"So the proposed sale of the painting cannot go ahead until we actually inform him. This is a legal requirement."
"Very well. But how do you plan on trying to achieve this?"
"I return to England tomorrow to attend Donald's funeral. Hopefully, I will be able to speak to someone there who could point me in the right direction."

"The funeral?" Asked Betty looking at Charles, but with eyes glazed over in concentration. "Would it...be completely ridiculous for me to suggest that I attend as well?"
"Miss Balentine?" Said Charles surprised.
"I don't know. It's just that this man has left me an art dealership. Something that I have always dreamed of! The least I can do is pay him my respects, and meet his closer family and friends. And I have never even been to England. What a joy that would be!"
"Miss Balentine, you are more than welcome."
The woman nodded and half smiled"...Then I shall attend."
_

Mary burst into the Gazzelle office floor, earlier than she had ever expected to do. She headed towards her desk, that was now appropriately positioned next to her new partner Larry. He had also arrived particularly early, but it seemed he had for different reasons than Mary...
“Good morning Larry,” she said to the man, who was typing up the report of the robbery from last night.
“Hey,” he said, taking his glasses off. He glanced around himself before lowering his voice and leaning his head slightly towards Mary.
“So what happened at the pizza place?”
“I now know that we’re looking for two Irish men. One is called Jimmy, whilst the other is called Shaun. They live in the Bronx and drive a white van together.”
Larry leant back and placed his pen between his teeth. “That’s a bit ambiguous don’t you think? Do you have any idea how big the Bronx is?”
“So you think I should just give up?”
Larry sighed whilst Mary smirked. “Do you even care for my opinion on that?”
“Not really.”
“But you know that we have this report to do right?”
Mary did not reply, but just put her hands together in a prayer position and made her best puppy dog eyes.
“Alright, I’ll do it myself!...Jeez, you’ve been here for one day and you’re already playing the game.”
“You’re the best Larry.” Mary stood up and quickly kissed Larry on the cheek, much to his welcomed surprise.
She was on her way out when Larry eventually said. “You be careful out there Mary. Don’t be getting yourself into too much trouble.”

So within a couple of minutes, Mary was back out into the streets of Manhattan, with an overwhelming sense of relief. This is what real reporters do; they get out there and look for real stories! Not sitting around in some dusty office typing up stuff that makes watching paint dry seem like a credible alternative! The woman quickly hailed down a cab and wasted no time getting in.“To the Bronx please,” she said, placing her handbag down in the seat next to her.
“I don’t believe it.”
Startled by this response, Mary looked up. And to her astonishment, there was the taxi driver that picked her up at the station only a couple of nights ago!
“Oh my. What are the chances!”
The cab driver laughed with that familiar smile. “Talk about a small world. How’s the new job going sweetheart?”
“Let’s just say things are heating up already.”
“Wow, hotshot!”
Mary laughed.
“So where you say you headin’? Bronx? Where in the Bronx?”
The lady froze in contemplation. “You know...I actually don’t have the faintest idea.”
“What, you just feel like headin’ to the Bronx for the hell of it? I gotta say, I ain’t never heard of that!”
“I’m looking for two people, who I know live there. Did you hear about the robbery at the museum last night?”
“Oh yeah, that’s some heavy stuff. But they got the guy’s faces all over the news. It won’t be long until they catch ‘em.”
“Really? They have them on the news?”
“That’s right. And funnily enough, I actually know who they are.”
“Are you serious!?”
“Is that who you looking for?” Asked the cab driver, turning his head and dropping his smile. Mary nodded.
“And let me guess, you want to catch ‘em before the cops do right?”
Mary nodded again as she raised a little smile. The cab driver shook his head and restored his.
“You reporters. A strange breed of people, I tell ya.”

After a period of midday traffic, the driver had managed to navigate his way out of Manhattan and into the Bronx, via the upper west side.
“So I know this bar that these guys go to. Well everybody in the area knows that they go there and cause trouble anyway.”
“Is that where you’re going to take me first?”
“It’s the best plan of action I can think of,” replied the driver with raised eyebrows.
So with that in mind, the driver started to head into the narrow streets, twisting and turning around the corners. They then drove up a long street with traffic lights at the end. As they approached the red light, the man said. “Ok, it’s just across the road.”
He somewhat unnecessarily skidded to a halt, that made Mary almost come flying out of her seat! After calming herself down, she looked across the road to see a rough looking dive that had definitely seen better days. But this was a momentary observation by the woman, who immediately switched her attention to the large white van parked next to it!
“Oh my God! That’s it!” She shouted with a pointed finger.
The driver was startled. “What’s it!? What?
“I was tipped off that these guys drive a white van. That must be it!”Mary leaned forward even more to get a closer look. She inspected that there was a familiar looking face sat in the driver’s of the vehicle.“And that’s one of the robbers! Do you recognise him?”
The driver reached into his top pocket and pulled out some glasses. “Yep...That’s Shaun alright.”
A moment later, the door to the bar opened and out stepped another man, dressed in a leather jacket, looking anxiously around himself. “And that’s the other one!”
“Jimmy,” agreed the driver confidently.
Jimmy quickly dashed to the van and climbed in, and without any hesitation, it began to move.
“Follow that car!” Shouted Mary pointing.
“Yes ma’am!” Replied the driver in elevated spirits.
Mary chuckled. “Ha-ha, I’ve always wanted to say that!”

The cab instantly took up a position behind the van, and remained at a safe distance behind it. Enough to not make it look suspicious. There was more waving between the narrow streets, and the journey was beginning to take them into a more industrial area after around 10 minutes. Mary became anxious as to where they were going, and what exactly she was going to do when they eventually reached the destination!
The young woman looked out of the window and saw an old looking building that stood alone in its own plot of dusty land. This was where the white van came to a sudden halt. The cab driver sensibly continued his movement and decided to park up a little bit further ahead. Mary turned her body to look out of the back window. She witnessed the two men get out of the van and quickly head to the doors at the back, and this was where Mary lost them, as her only view was of the van facing towards them. However, they emerged a moment later with one of the paintings that they had stolen from the met museum, and wasted no time in working together to take it through the large metal gates that entered towards the degrading building.
“This must be there hideout!” She pondered.
“Well let’s find a phone and let the police know that.”
Mary turned her head back around and darted her eyes at the man. “Are you joking!?”
The cab driver screwed up his face in confusion. Mary continued saying, “Do you think I’ve come all this way to let the cops take the glory?”
The man chuckled. “Oh right, so you gonna go in there and arrest them yourself? Come on...Let’s go make the call.”
Mary sighed. “How about I get out and keep watch here. Meanwhile YOU go make this call?”
“I guess there’s no stopping someone on a roll huh?”
Mary smiled and then opened the door to the car, but before she headed to the property, she dipped her head back in.
“Do you know what has just crossed my mind?...We haven’t been formally introduced.”
The man laughed upon this realisation. “The name’s Luke...Nice to meet you...” He said waiting for an answer.
“Mary...Mary Dingleby.”

Mary tiptoed towards the empty office building, being very careful with her step, to avoid dripping water more than anything! The young lady crept up to the corner of an open glass doorway and peered towards a staircase. She saw the shadows of the two men dancing on the walls that lit up with sunlight, and could just make out that they were carrying the painting between them.
“Why do we have to drag this thing all the way upstairs!?” Demanded one of them as he struggled with the weight of it.
“Because we were ordered to! You follow orders. You get the money. It’s that simple!”
Orders? Pondered Mary. Are they meeting a prospective buyer here? There was only one way to find out. She stood up and stealthily drifted away from the door, making her way around the building. Well, as stealthily as a woman could do in high heels!

Scouting the environment, she found a rusty ladder staircase, leading all the way up past each window. Mary gulped at the sight of it, knowing that she wasn’t one for heights. But upon reflection, she realised that it was this kind of daring action that was needed in these situations as a fearless reporter. She grabbed the sides and lifted her foot to place on the first step, but it slipped out of position straight away.
“I should really think about wearing more appropriate footwear for these escapades!”
Eventually, Mary managed to gain some balance and slowly lift herself up the side of the building. She did so carefully and quietly as possible, glancing into each window to see if she could track where the two robbers were. Surprisingly, the rooms of these higher floors were still in good condition and a lot more accommodating than the ground level. It seemed that they were used as offices and meeting rooms, obviously once being a big commercial centre. After much effort, Mary finally reached the top of the ladder staircase and stood on a platform outside the window. She then put her back against the wall and shifted along towards a large window, knowing that this was her last possible entrance.

But peering around the corner, the young woman was greeted by something that she did not expect to see. It was the sight of a brunette haired lady in her late 30’s, wearing a white pencil dress and large wide-brim squishee hat. She stood, anxiously, already looking at the window, and went over to it the moment she caught sight of Mary.
“What’s going on? Who mm!” The young reporter was cut by the woman’s hand over her mouth.
“Shh! The bad guys are downstairs. They locked me in this room.”
“Who locked you? Why?”
“My name is Audrey Meadows. I was in the area and saw the paintings in the back of the van. The ones that are constantly on the news. But before I could do anything, they captured me.”
“Well let’s get out of here before things get worse!”
The kidnapped didn’t need an excuse, she went about trying to climb out the window, although the anguish in her face suggested this certainly wasn’t something she was used to. Definitely scared of heights at least.

Suddenly; one of the robbers opened the door. They stopped dead in their tracks, as the other man was dragging a painting into the room across the corridor. The man at the door looked at Mary and then at Audrey. A sheer look of confusion was written across it.
“What the?” He said, this time looking directly at Audrey.
Mary feared for what was now to happen to them two, but the moment was interrupted by a loud bang from the end of the corridor. Both robbers turned to look with anxiety.
“Police!” Shouted a loud voice.
The sound of that word immediately made Mary relax, and the increasing sound of rushing feet and “freeze!” was music to her ears.

The men were seized quickly and the paintings recovered swiftly. When Mary exited the building, she became aware of the large police presence that surrounded the place, and was now grateful that her cab driver had decided to go call them. Audrey was being interviewed by a detective, whilst the two robbers had their heads dipped against their will as they got into the back seats of a police car with their hands cuffed behind their backs.

“Mary is it?” Came a voice from behind the woman.
“Yes?” She replied as she turned to see a middle aged man with a larger white moustache, holding a note pad.
“I have a few questions for you, if you could spare the time.”
“Not a problem officer.”
“Detective!” He barked.
Mary almost jumped out of her skin!
“Sorry, sorry. No coffee yet today.”
“That’s alright,” replied Mary, raising an eyebrow.
“Now...Can you tell me what you were doing here when the police arrived?”
“I was following the two criminals into this building. I recognised their faces from the news.”
“Is that so? And why did you not call the police upon this recognition?”
“I...I...” Mary stuttered.
“Hmmm?” Said the detective as he raised his eyes and leaned his head forward.
“I don’t know. I guess I had to be sure,” replied Mary, folding her arms.
“And don’t you think that’s the work of us police? Aren’t we the ones who are supposed to be sure?”
“...I was just trying to help.”
The detective sighed. “Well I suppose everything worked out in the end. But this could have been really dangerous. As the other lady over there found out...So is it true that you entered the building at the top and saw her in the room?”
“That’s right.”
The detective was scribbling these notes furiously.“And then the criminals in question entered with another painting” he said assertively.
“Yep.”
“OK, Mary I think that’s all we need. Everything seems to have come together.” The detective folded up his pad and put it into the top pocket of his mustard coloured jacket.
“So that’s it?”
“That’s what I said.”
“But I heard something else as I was following them.”
“Oh yeah?” Said the detective looking off into the distance, obviously not listening.
“They were talking about them having orders to store the paintings upstairs. Orders! They must have been working for somebody, or trying to sell the paintings to somebody.”
“Hmmm...Maybe.”
“Maybe!?”
“Listen missy. If you want to be a detective, then apply for the police. But for now, leave the work to us. If these guys squeal, they squeal. But we know their history, and we have been following them for a while. They usually work alone.”
“But..But."
The detective was not interested, and he rushed off, already forgetting about Mary as he went to speak to his colleagues.

However, the reporter was approached by Audrey.
“Mary I believe?” She said curiously.
Mary now had time to properly judge the lady, and saw that was of impeccable beauty with deep red lipstick on. And upon this second meeting, she had noticed that she was a fellow brit with an upper class accent.
“Yes. Are you alright?”
“I am, thank you for asking. And that’s not the only thing I should be thanking you for.”
“Please, don’t mention it...Where are you from?”
“Sussex.”
Mary nodded with understanding, whilst also trying to work out why this woman was in this area at such a coincidental time.

“Are you a reporter?” quizzed the young lady.
“Who me?” She cackled with laughter, in a rather exaggerated way. “No, no, I am a manager of an art dealership in Manhattan. But I can tell by your manner that you are certainly one.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to push” pondered Mary.
“Not at all dear, I’m sure you are desperate to make a story out of this, and I would be glad to help. Us women have to stick together if we are to make anything of ourselves in this city.”

“I could not agree more Miss Meadows.” Said Mary smiling. “But what were you doing around here if you don’t mind me asking? It’s not exactly a place that a woman like yourself would spend her time.”
Audrey smiled and flicked her hair back. “Yes, I admit this is all a little bit unusual, for everybody concerned. But I was actually on my way here to scout it out as a possible storage destination for the increasing demand in my art business.”
“This old place?”
“Oh that it is dear, that it is. But these dumps are available at such reasonable prices that I had to consider. A little revamp and it could be as good as new!” Remarked Audrey with a little spring in her voice.
“And who would have thought that it was a hideout place for art criminals!”
“Certainly not me!”
The two women looked at each other for an awkward moment. “Well!” said Audrey suddenly, “Must dash, much work to do. But please...contact me if you need to speak again.” She handed Mary a card. “I would be glad to help in any way I can. Well...not in circumstances like this again one hopes.”
“Thank you Miss Meadows. You have a lovely day.”
The lady tipped her hat before elegantly walking away to ask a nice police officer for a ride back to Manhattan. Mary had much to ponder as she stared down at the card that she received. It had a clear telephone number displayed, and typed in big bold letters were the words “GOLDSTEIN ARTS”.

Re: The Adventures of Mary Dingleby

Postby Dick Dastardly » Wed Aug 17, 2016 2:19 am

_

Betty sat staring out of the window, taking in the beautiful countryside of southern England that past by her vision, as if she were in a dream. It took her back to that painting she saw in the gallery only a few nights ago. The train was moving at a tremendous speed, much faster than she had experienced in New York, and she could not recall ever being on such a long distance journey. The woman and Charles Smith, the lawyer, sat in their own private carriage that was equipped with cushioned seats that were not available in normal economy carriages.

A security guard gently glided past the window and tipped his blue hat to the lady before disappearing once again at the other side.
“Is the guard completely necessary?”
Charles awoke from his daydream, startled at the break of silence. “Miss Balentine?”
“The guard that is walking up and down this corridor, I have no idea why you needed to bring him along. I’m not royalty or anything.”
“Yes Miss Balentine, but I must tell you that his presence is not due to my own efforts.”Charles re-adjusted himself in his seating position. “No, these particular men are employed by the government for the safety of everybody that decides to use train as transport.”
Betty giggled. “You make it sound like some sort of death trap to come on here.”
Charles raised his eyebrows and looked away as if re-calling something. “Well, not exactly a death trap, but many consider it a risky affair in these current times.”
“How so?”
“For the past 10 years, possibly more, the British train system has been subject to quite a number of heists and robberies. Of course, it’s never been a complete anomaly throughout the course of history, but there is no doubt that there has been a rise since the end of the Second World War.”
“I see...Any particular reason? Is there a new Dick Turpin character on the loose or something?”
“Usually the trains are attacked in pairs, sometimes groups, and each case there is no clear association with another. Bit of a coincidence if you ask me. Perhaps criminals are just a bit more BALLSY than they used to be.” Charles raised his eyes for emphasis in this final sentence.
“Oh my,” pondered Betty.
“I assure you, it’s nothing to worry about Miss Balentine. It does not mean that every train is to be hit by the baddies.” The man leaned forward to speak in a lower voice. “And to tell you the truth, in terms of personal safety, it’s usually these guards that are at the most risk.”
Betty looked up at the carriage door window again to see the guard drift past and tip his hat at the lady.

After arriving in at a small coastal town in Cornwall, both Betty and Charles checked into a hotel and got themselves ready for the funeral that was to take place. Betty chose a highly expensive black pencil dress, accompanied with white leather gloves and with a white pearl necklace. The ceremony was rather beautiful, and was attended by many a people, a testament to the effect he had on many different lives. By looking at the people who were mourning most extravagantly, Betty was able to pinpoint the close family relatives and it seemed that he had a very large family indeed. All these people that she was related to and had no idea! The ceremony finished and all the attendants were invited to the reception that was held in the bar just through the doors. Betty believed that it would be a good time to introduce herself to Donald’s wife and children, and most importantly, explain how she had come into possession of his art dealership in New York! She was hoping she would be able to do this with the aid of Charles Smith at her side, but he was actually nowhere to be seen as everybody moved into the large lounging area. This caused the woman to panic a little bit, imagining how it would look and sound when she approached a grieving family with such an unbelievable story.

Betty therefore headed towards the bar in order to quickly drink a glass of wine for some much needed Dutch courage.
“A large glass of white wine,” she insisted as soon as the barman looked her way.
As he went off to assist with the order, she pulled up the tall stool and sat down, crossing one leg over the other.She felt eyes bearing down on her from her left and she eventually dared to look, seeing a smartly dressed man in his early thirties holding a glass of whiskey, swirling it around slowly.

“Hi,” said Betty softly in desperation to break the awkwardness.
“Hello there,” replied the man without shifting his position at all.
“Did you know Donald?” Betty folded her arms and rested them on the counter.
The man nodded assuringly. “We were...business associates.”
Betty nodded, pretending to be interested.
“And you?” he continued as he took a sip from his drink.
“Well,” she laughed, “I guess you could call me a business associate of some kind as well.”
The woman span round in her stool so that she was facing away from the counter with her elbows resting back on it.

This was much to the man’s pleasure. But now what was also clear was that another man was sat on the other side of Betty, a little further back, seemingly out of the area where he could eavesdrop. His face was not visible at this point though as it was blocked by the newspaper that he held up with both hands. All that was visible was the cloud of smoke that was appearing above that paper.

“Please...continue,” urged the man as he took one more sip.
“Well I’m from New York...Maybe you could tell from my accent that I’m not from around here.”
“I guessed as much.”
“Well, only very recently did I receive some very startling news that I was in fact related to Donald. A long lost niece it seems!”
The man nodded, pretending to listen.
“Well anyway, the second bit of news that I received was that he was leaving me his art dealership in his will. So now, you are talking to an owner of Goldstein Arts!”

The other man suddenly dropped the newspaper down, to reveal the face of non other than William Crocket, staring wide eyed at Betty with a recently lit cigarette between the middle of his lips. His eyes quickly switched to the man that was talking to Betty and they became, all of a sudden, menacing. This struck fear into the man who had been enjoying the company of the lady for a short while. He re-adjusted his glasses and scampered at lightning speed.

Betty looked on in confusion. “It was nice speaking to you,” she remarked as she loosely waved a couple of gloved fingers in his direction.
“Excuse me dear,” came a voice.
She spun around to see William Crocket flick his cigarette over the ashtray that lay on the counter next to him, “but I could not help but over hear the last remark you made to the gentleman...Did you say that you now own part of Goldstein Art? The substantial part that belonged to the late Donald Goldstein?”
“Erm...yes. That is correct,” replied Betty hesitantly.
“How very interesting,” said the gentleman with wide, curious eyes.
“And..Who is it that I am speaking to?”

“Forgive me my manners! The name is William Crocket.”
“As in...THE William Crocket!?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Well Mr Crocket, I cannot say how wonderful it is to meet you!” Betty held out her hand. “I’m Betty Balentine.”
William took hold of her hand and gently kissed the back of it whilst remaining eye contact. “Please...the pleasure is all mine,” he said with a soft smirk.
Betty giggled and blushed slightly.“Well, it’s very good that we have had the chance to meet today, because there is something very important that we must discuss in regards to the direction that we will be taking with the art dealership.”
“Is that so?” remarked William, pretending to be interested.
“Indeed.”
“Well Miss Balentine, I do not know what Donald told you about me,” said William, somewhat anxiously.
“Actually...He didn’t tell me anything...About anyone...Including himself!”
“So you never actually met the man?”
Betty shook her head as William took another puff from his cigarette. “How very interesting. So he left you his majority share in the business, having never met you and you having no clue whatsoever that such a man existed?”
“That’s about as much as I know Mr Crocket.”
William nodded, trying his hardest to keep up.
“The only reason I can think of why he left it to me is because I am the only one of his relatives who lives in New York.”
“Perhaps...Well anyway Miss Balentine, you should know that the stake I hold in Goldstein art does not mean that I have been very active in its success and fortunes. I am more of a sleeping partner, and I cannot confess to having ever stepped foot in New York.”
“Is that so?...So if you do not mind me asking. Why did you invest in such a proposition in the first place?”

“Well, there are a lot of benefits to being a sleeping partner!”
“That is true.”
“But furthermore, I did it for a dear old friend.”
“You and my uncle were friends?”
“Very much so! And he needed to raise capital for the business to be a success. Of course, I was reluctant at first, it is a very risky decision, all things considered...But anyway! That is besides the point right now. The point I am trying to make is that whatever you decide to do with the business is your concern, and you do not need to consult me on such matters. Especially when we live on the opposite sides of the pond!”
“Ok Mr Crocket, I respect that.”
“Thank you Miss Balentine. But just out of curiosity, what are your plans?”
“Well they are Donald’s plans actually. He left me this in his will on the condition that I sell one painting in the possession of the dealership and give the money to charity.”
“How warming!” Said William with wide, enthusiastic eyes. “And what painting would that be.” He raised a glass of red wine to his lips.

Betty paused for effect. “The mourning breeze.”
William froze and gulped the last bit of wine that remained in his mouth, remaining in position for quite a while.
“Mr Crocket, are you alright?”
Eventually, the gentleman blinked out of his trance and regained his composure. “I’m sorry Miss Balentine, I believe I might have misheard you...Did you say...the mourning breeze?”
Betty nodded again with a smile on her face.
“Oh my dear, what treasures you possess! How wonderful that you are in control of the destiny of such a classical piece! Did Donald really acquire this work of beauty?”
“Do not ask me how, but yes.”
“Golly, this is such wonderful news. The money we could make!” exclaimed William, looking dreamingly into the distance.
“For charity,” reminded Betty.

“Oh...yes, of course. For a noble cause!”
“For a noble cause.”
“You know Miss Balentine, perhaps I am delirious from hearing such wonderful news, but I suddenly feel it to be my duty to assist you with this sale.”
“You do?”
“I do!”
“But I thought you were just the sleeping partner in the operation?” Asked Betty, folding her arms across her chest.
“I am...I was! But this is something beyond the normal day to day running of an art dealership. My lady, I mean this with the upmost respect, but this is not a task that can be undertaken alone. And as a favour to my old friend,” William held his hand to his heart, “I want to do everything I can to ensure that his wishes are fulfilled.”
“Mr Crocket, that is very nice of you, and sure, your help would be very well received. But...what about your life here? What would your wife say to you leaving in such a hurry?”
“Oh, you wouldn’t have to worry about that. Divorced.” The man swirled the glass of wine in his hand before taking a sip.

“Snap!” replied Betty, taking one from her own glass.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. He left me for his secretary...But it’s fine, probably for the best now. I’m not exactly a woman who likes to be tied down.”
“Hmmm, that conjures some images,” muttered William.
“What was that?”
“Oh, just!...I concur with your perspective. No point dwelling on the past!”
“I will drink to that.” Both of them clunked their drinks together in harmony.

Suddenly out of nowhere, Charles Smith appeared.
“Everything alright Miss Balentine!”
“Ah, Charles! Where have you been? I have been looking all over for you!”
“Yes...I can see that,” replied Charles, glancing at William.
“Charles, could I be so kind to ask you to assist me to meeting Donald’s family. I have been putting it off for long enough now.”
“Certainly Miss Balentine.”
Betty turned to face William once more. “Sorry Mr Crocket. I shall return very soon.”
“Not a problem my lady. Please take your time, and upon your return, we can discuss my arrangement of coming with you to New York.”
“Absolutely!” Betty linked arms with Charles and the two headed towards the seating area, leaving William to ponder everything he had just heard.

He turned in his chair towards the counter and continued to smoke his cigarette, exhaling towards a picture of Donald that was propped up near the whiskey stand.
“Donald, Donald, Donald...You clever little thing. Thought that you were rid of me did you? Thought you would be able to hide something like that? Everybody knows that William Crocket is not one to crawl away easily...Who would have gambled that you have such a prized possession? And I must say, the painting is not bad news either.”
The man turned his head and laughed evilly as he admired Betty from a distance. But he then ceased and sighed as he faced the picture of Donald once more.
“Look at me...making jokes with somebody who isn’t here. Pull yourself together man!”The cigarette was promptly put out in the ashtray.

_


“I’m telling you Larry, there was something very fishy about the whole thing,” said Mary as she leaned forward towards Larry. The man was busy constructing an article on his typewriter.
“I don’t know Mary...I mean...they got the guys, what else were you expecting?”
“They were meeting somebody there. I know it.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, but if the police had not shown up, I might have found out. Isn’t it obvious that those robbers were trying to sell those paintings?”
“I agree with you, yes, but that does not mean that they were about to meet a buyer right there and then. The way you described it, that old building was being used as storage. Who knows how long they were going to hold it there for. Could have been weeks!”

Their conversation was interrupted by a heavy newspaper hitting Larry’s desk, scaring him half to death. Towering over him was Ralph Nicholson, in what seemed like a good mood.
“Great story toots,” He said with his hands in his pockets, ignoring Larry, who was re-adjusting his glasses that fell upon the arrival of the newspaper in his vicinity.
“Oh...thank you sir,” replied Mary appreciatively.
“I always like it when my reporters go the extra mile. You could learn from this one Larry.” The editor slapped the young man on the back of his shoulders, knocking his glasses clean off his face this time, before heading back to his office with a clean conscience.
Larry grabbed the paper and put his glasses back on, hopefully for the last time today.
He read out loud. “DONE DEAL. Two men brought to justice for robbery and kidnap.”
He looked up at Mary confused. “Kidnap?”
“That’s what else I found a little strange.” Said Mary, wheeling herself closer to her colleague. “They were keeping a woman in one of the upstairs office rooms. She said that she stumbled upon them.”
“And? Don’t you find that acceptable?”
“No, not really. It doesn’t add up. And there was just something about her.”
“But couldn’t someone say the same about you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, to an outside observer, it’s pretty weird that you were there at the right time in the right place as well. These things can just happen. Did she explain why she was there in the first place?”
“Yeah, she said she was scouting the building as a storage place for her business.”
“Well there you go!”
“Hmmmm,” Mary just could not let it go.

Larry sighed and placed the newspaper down. “Come on Mary, you’re chasing shadows. I can see why you have this whole conspiracy about a black market. I get that. But if those guys in custody say anything about a buyer they lined up, the police will deal with that. If they keep their mouths shut then...well I guess you can rest assure that somebody, somewhere has missed out on a deal. Life goes on Mary! And it’s not right to drag some woman in to this. Come on. You have a good story; you’re in the bosses good books. What more could you want?”
Mary admitted defeat finally. “I guess you’re right in some way.”
“I’m always right,” said Larry jokingly. “And hey, I also got the story about the robbery printed yesterday! Things are looking up for me as well!”

A voice came from a far. “Ha! Don’t count on it Larry!!” Shouted Ralph as he came walking up to the two reporters again. Larry immediately grabbed his spectacles in anticipation.
“Listen, I want you MARY to head down to the airport.”
“Oh yes?” Said Mary enthusiastically.
“There is a private jet arriving with two passengers on it that happen to own one of the biggest art dealerships in all of New York. On top of that, I just heard news that they have THE MOURNING BREEZE in their possession.”
“The MOURNING BREEZE?” Asked Larry, unaware of what it is.
“Yeah It’s a famous painting Larry. Maybe you should try reading once in a while! Anyway, my source says that they are selling this painting and giving all the money to charity.”
“Really!?”
“Yeah. Don’t ask me why, if it was me then you can be sure that it will all be in my pocket.” Remarked Ralph as he drifted back to his office.
“Do you know the name of the people or the dealership sir!?” Shouted Mary, anxious to know more.
“Goldstein Art I think!!! Not that it matters!!!!”

_

William looked out of the window of his private jet, curious about why there was such a large crowd gathered on the ground, near to where they were expected to land.
“Mr Crocket, thank you so much for this,” said Betty who was sat in the plane seat across from him, with her handbag rested on her lap in anticipation of their arrival. “But there was really no need. Charles had already provided me with a return journey.”
The man fixed his eyes back on Betty. “Miss Balentine, it was no trouble at all. We are now partners, and I could not let you travel so uncomfortably again.” He looked over to Charles Smith, who was sat at the opposing window. “And how are you my good man?”
“Excellent Mr Crocket,” he replied with a smile on his face, caused by the excess liquor he had consumed on the flight.
“Well then nothing pleases me more.”


As the plane made a rapid decent, it became clear to William that the crowd of people was a media circus.
“Oh heavens,” he said with a sigh.
“What is it?” questioned Betty, leaning forward to glimpse at what was concerning William.
“The media. They must have caught wind of everything that is going on...I suppose it’s what was to be expected with regards to the painting.”
The large door opened and out stepped William first of all, wearing a huge grin as the cameras flashed. He awaited Betty and took her hand gentlemanly; guiding her down the steps with the tipsy Charles following close by.

“Greetings, greetings” said William in his charming English voice.
A reporter leaned forward with a large microphone. “William Crocket I believe. Is it true that you are selling the blank and giving the proceeds to charity?”
“That is indeed correct my good fellow. With wishes from Donald Goldstein, who passed away so unfortunately last week, we are to auction the painting and the money will ALL be donated to charity.”
Another reporter leaned forward. “A very noble cause Mr Crocket. But are you not tempted to make earn a good deal yourself in all this? After all, it’s not every day that somebody comes into possession of such a valuable masterpiece.”
“A very fair assessment. But we at Goldstein Art are far more concerned with being respectful to art than mere profit. It’s unfortunate time we live in where those concerned with art have turned it in to a world of greed with no real concern for what they are dealing with. I can assure you that Goldstein Art has not abandoned its principles and we shall act accordingly.”
There was more enthusiastic uproar from the circus in desperate need to find out more, but William guided Betty through the crowd to spare her from becoming part of the spotlight too much as well. Looking on, amongst the reporters, was Mary, taking notes as the owners passed.


“Wow, Mr Crocket, that was amazing how you dealt with that!” Said Betty admiringly as they entered the airport building.
“Not at all my lady, I just wanted it to be over as quick as possible. Tell them everything they need to hear and be on your way, that’s my motto!”
Charles slugged up behind the pair. “Shall I order us a cab then?”
“Oh Charles, that will never do. After such a long journey, I think a limousine is in order!”
“Right you are!” Agreed the solicitor.
“Erm, I know we have not really had time to discuss it yet,” said Betty stopping in her tracks, “But you said that we will be auctioning the painting?”
William stopped also to answer the question. “Miss Balentine, forgive me for saying that out loud just now. That was to please the herd out there. However you decide to go about this is completely your decision.”
“No, no, that sounds actually sounds like a good idea to me. I think it could raise a lot of money that way.”
“I could not agree more...However, now we are faced with the task of finding a destination for the auction and also an auctioneer!”
“I don’t think that will be a problem Mr Crocket. I know a man named Edward Andersen. He owns the metropolitan museum of Art.” William’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of that. “I am certain he would like to help with this.”
“Oh Miss Balentine, that would be perfect.”

“Furthermore, I know a beautiful little place near in my hometown that is owned by Edward. It’s an old house, used by the community for such events. I’m certain he would let us use it for such a special cause.”
“This is coming together most splendidly my dear. I find your initiative most welcoming.”
Charles decided it was time to perk up. “And whilst we are on the subject there is something else that I should disclose about the working staff that exist at Goldstein Art.”
“Very well Charles,” replied William, “It should be known that we value our staff, and will do our best to accommodate them in these times.”
“Yes...well as you might expect at any business, there is a manager present within the office.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” said Betty excitedly.
“It would be a pleasure to meet him as soon as possible,” added William.
“It is a female actually Mr Crocket. A highly skilled and intelligent manager, who Donald held in the highest esteem.”
“Well if Donald had a high opinion of her, then I am sure she will be just terrific! When can we meet her?”

“Not right away Mr Crocket, she is currently on vacation for the next week or so. I think she took the death of Donald a little hard.”
“Oh dear,” said Betty.
“So they must have had a close working relationship?”
“Well I’m not so sure about that. Obviously, Donald was only active in this business when he was here, which was not very frequent. But he trusted her nevertheless, so it would be safe to assume that she is...up to the task.”
“I’m sure she is,” said Betty with a nod, “and her input would be well received.”
“Precisely right Miss Balentine,” agreed William.
“Furthermore, when we do get round to fully seeing organising this organisation, we will have to hire security.” Continued Betty.
“Of course,” said Charles with a nod, “especially with everything that has gone on here recently.”

William looked back and forth at the two people in his presence, hinting for an explanation, which Betty picked up on. “There was a robbery at the Metropolitan Museum this week.”
“How unfortunate,” mused William.
“Yeah, a few paintings were stolen by these guys. Not a major heist in the grand scheme of things, but it’s pretty worrying.”
“Well on a lighter note,” interrupted Charles, “I received news from one of the staff as we were leaving the plane that the gentlemen responsible have been reprimanded by the police and the paintings recovered.”
“Oh what a relief,” Said Betty clapping her hands together, “Edward will be very pleased.”
“That he will be,” replied William as he pondered what he had just heard and glanced over his shoulder. “Now I don’t know about you two, but standing around here is making me jittery!”
“Here here,” agreed Charles.

“And do you know what I believe would be the perfect remedy?” Continued William. “Seeing the mourning breeze in all its glory!”
The trio decided to relocate to the airport reception, as they were giving the media circus too much to gawp at as they crushed themselves against the large window of the building. Mary was not one of the reporters who were willing to go to the extreme lengths to get a look. She knew there was no chance of an interview at this time, and got what she needed to start with on building another story.


She contemplated on the way to the airport, the possibility that she really was chasing too many shadows, as Larry had suggested earlier. Of course, he was much more experienced in this city and the excitement and variety had worn off. But Mary felt that this situation was more than just a beginner causing an unnecessary stir. Audrey Meadows is certainly a peculiar case. Is it merely a coincidence that she was “scouting out” a building as storage, when it was already a hideout for a couple of goons? And her connection to Goldstein Arts opened more doors. And who was these two people, Betty Balentine and William Crocket, who suddenly showed up on the scene? Yes, Mary had read the notes on the way to the airport. Betty had been left the business in the previous owner’s will and William Crocket was a minority shareholder. But why has he only just showed up now, when the mourning breeze is within his grasp? Obviously, Mary considered herself to be rational enough not to jump to any conclusions. And who knows, maybe this is all very innocent, but she could not let it lie without knowing for sure. Furthermore, this “natural curiosity” of hers can just be considered a side project, whilst trying to complete the article that is demanded by the Gazzelle. Yes, Mary knew that she could not lose track of what she was employed to do before anything else. The young reporter reached into her pocket and pulled out the card given to her by Audrey. At least she had a ticket in, and she also had a place to start. Next destination, back to the crime scene.


It was difficult trying to pinpoint the destination straight away, but she always had a good sense of direction and was accompanied by the assistance of the cab driver, who undoubtedly knew the city like the back of his hand. But the first stumbling block that Mary came across was the police tape that explicitly denied entry to the derelict building. Having made such a long journey to get over here though, you cannot fall at the first hurdle. The woman glanced around and dipped under the tape to make her way into the building as quickly as possible to avoid detection. Standing in that upstairs level where it all happened made Mary put her thinking cap on and go over the circumstances once again. She entered the room where the two robbers were stashing the paintings and recalled that they were “ordered” to do so. By Audrey? No, surely not. She was captured and held against her will. It doesn’t make sense that she was in on the same conspiracy. But perhaps she was aware that the paintings were here? Had she somehow received this information from the person who ordered the men to bring the stolen goods here, and tried to hijack the deal that had been set up? Maybe. But not by herself. She didn’t seem like the feisty type who would attempt to take on two men. She may have just been here to know for certain that this was where the goods were, and that’s when she was caught in the act. Mary didn’t buy her story that she was looking at this place as possible storage. It’s possible of course, but she knew that she could discount that by speaking to the person who currently owns this plot of land. Surely Audrey would have made an appointment. It would be useless to come all this way just to stare at a building without any input. Further more, she would need approval from the shareholders of Goldstein Arts, so Mary planned to speak to Betty Balentine and William Crocket as well, to straighten out everything that was supposedly happening here.

Mary left the abandoned multi-story complex, believing that she had somewhat had a wasted journey. On the other hand though, she did consider herself to be the type of investigator who could add up the dots better when she was in the atmosphere of the crime scene. And there is an added quality. The ability to look on the positives in every situation. Her good mood was elevated even more when she noticed a huge poster sign at the gate entrance to the land, and it was something that she never noticed the first time around and would have never known existed if she had never returned. Printed on the poster was the face of a man, probably in his early 40’s, with his thumbs up and wearing the cheesiest grin imaginable. His hair was combed over to one side and showed glimpses of grey. He was obviously successful to some degree though, as the poster advertised his real estate firm named Bob Kinsler. Even more pleasing for Mary was the address that was printed on with an invitation screaming “Drop by the office for one on one consultation!” The address was in downtown Manhattan. Don’t mind if I do, thought Mary.
_

The door to Goldstein Arts was opened by Charles Smith, who politely held it open as both Betty and William drifted in. Both stared around in amazement at their unfamiliar new office, unlike Charles who had been accustomed to its appearance.
“My my,” remarked William as he began to take off his suit jacket. “What a splendid working place. Wouldn’t you agree Miss Balentine?”
The lady nodded in agreement as she headed to the window and bask in the amazing view of downtown Manhattan.
“This is the manager’s desk,” said Charles, pointing at a table towards the back of the room that was kept very tidily.
“Oh yes, certainly has a woman’s touch to it!” judged William.
“And if you like, I can show you two to your private offices.”
“All in good time my good man. But first, I think there is something that me and Miss Balentine are desperate to see.”
Betty turned from the window and smirked, knowing exactly what William was talking about.

Charles positioned himself in front of a large mahogany door, which almost looked like the rest of the accompanying wall. It had a very complicated lock system, that made it clear that they were about to enter a walk in safe. Seemingly without thought, Charles began to turn the lock with the sound of clicking when the numbers were being matched. William leaned forward, trying to see the code, but was blocked by the lawyer, who was being rather protective.
“So what exactly is the code for this safe Mr Smith?” Said an agitated William.
“Oh I’m sorry Mr Crocket, but I am under strict instructions from Donald Goldstein’s will that only myself, Miss Balentine and the current manager here are able to hold such information. Unfortunately, your name was never mentioned.”
William’s face went bright red with anger. Donald you menace!!! He shouted in his head. Betty turned to look at the man, who instantly turned his expression to fake joy.
“Ah not to worry. I understand the need for maximum security with such a valuable object.”
“This is more than an object.” Said Betty quickly.
“Oh of course my dear, forgive my use of language!”
At this moment, Charles stopped his turning. “Here we are!” The heavy door was suddenly pushed open with great anticipation to reveal a large room with classical design on the walls. This went largely unnoticed though, as what instantly became apparent was the large painting on the far wall.
Nobody spoke but just stood in awe under it’s great influence. A magnificent picture that showed a person’s view of an open window from inside a house. The interior was very dark, but the true beauty was in the curtains that were flapping in the wind and leading into a gorgeous sunrise and accompanying meadow.

“The mourning breeze ladies and gentleman,” said Charles laughing to himself.
“It is truly stunning,” said Betty.
“So what is the origin of the name, mourning breeze?” pondered William.
“Nobody knows for certain. But as you can see from the curtains, there is clearly a breeze in the outdoor air.”
William nodded.
“And the best guess for the mourning part is that there has been some kind of tragedy. Perhaps it is the dawn of the day of a funeral for a deceased family member. Therefore, it is a play on the word, morning, as in the morning of the day.”
“Fascinating,” said Betty.
“Very touching,” added William, moving closer to the painting so that he could almost touch it. “I cannot believe I am so lucky.” Unwittingly, the man’s hands moved close together and he began to chuckle with menace. But he immediately stopped and turned to see Charles and Betty looking at him strangely. He broke the awkwardness with a laugh. “Right. Shall we see our offices then?”
_

Finding a cab to get back downtown proved impossible on such limited time. It was therefore time for the bus, something that the young lady had been dreading since her arrival in New York. However, she found it to be somewhat enlightening. Seeing the weirdoes and whack jobs, made her realise that there was so much more to this city than big money, flash cars and rooms with a view. Of course, the newspaper she was working for seemed to ignore this world. The readers were obviously happy to pretend it never exists also, judging by the popularity of it. The ignorance did not seem to be the problem whatsoever.

Almost an hour of this enlightenment was enough for Mary though, and she got off the bus in Manhattan in a grouchy mood. This was perhaps to work in her favour though, because it made her determined to get some answers by the end of the day, or at least make some kind of progress on the case. She was going to speak to Bob Kinsler and not let him mince his words, in the way that most estate agents will speak to their customers. Standing on the sidewalk across the street, Mary looked up a tall, red bricked building and was welcomed by a sea of windows. How was she supposed to know which one was his office? After scanning over the face of the building though, the young woman saw a familiar face staring back at her. It was the face of Bob, with that same thumbs up and ridiculous grin. Oh my gosh, does he stand there all day like that!? It hit Mary suddenly though that it could not possibly be the man himself. No...It was a cardboard cut out...Freaky.

On the ground floor below the building, a front door opened, and to Mary’s surprise, out stepped Audrey Meadows! The reporter’s instinct kicked in and she quickly crouched behind the nearest car to her. Peaking out, she saw that Audrey was as elegant as she was upon their first encounter. She was wearing that same large, flat hat with the flower nestled on it and a dark cream fur coat. As soon as she stepped out into the air, she raised her hand to stop a cab, and the vehicle screeched to a halt, before slowly pulling to the side, admist the chorus of horns that followed. But before she could leave, Bob Kinsler stepped out behind Audrey and span her around. The lady placed her hands behind his neck, whilst he locked his behind the bottom of her back. They exchanged a few words, before engaging in a deep passionate kiss for a few seconds. Audrey then gently stroked his cheek with her gloved hand and turned to walk down the stone steps, leaving Donald with a smile that almost beat the one in his ads. One hand was on the railing, while the other was held out at an angle with her handbag balanced on it. She reached the cab, and blew the estate agent one more kiss, before getting in the back seat and disappearing.

Without hesitation, Mary rushed out and luckily managed to skip across the road without any oncoming traffic heading her way. Bob stepped back into the building and began to shut the door behind him. It was halted though by the appearance of Mary’s shoe.
“Mr Kinsler is it?”
The man was in shock, looking from that foot all the way up to the reporter’s face. “Yes...that’s right. How can I help you today?” He had never been approached by a customer so eager; usually it was him doing the cold calling!”
Mary slipped her body through the gap and inside.“I work for the Gazzelle, and I was wondering if I could just ask you a few questions about what happened at your property in the Bronx...The place where the art museum robbers were caught.”
“Well...I...don’t know how much I can tell you Ma’am,” He said in a shaken up manner, “the police already wrapped up that investigation. They came over to see me only yesterday about it.”
“Ok, I understand that it is something that you want to put behind you Mr Kinsler, but I’m trying to do a follow up story and blow a crime story wide open.”
“What crime story?” Replied Bob, squinting his eyes in confusion and aggravation. Mary noticed that he had lipstick marks at a few points on his face, including his own lips.
“What can you tell me about Audrey Meadows?” the woman asked quickly, as she whipped out her notepad and pen.
“I’ve...never heard of that woman before.”
Mary looked up with confidence and assurance. “Oh...So that wasn’t Audrey Meadows who just left your building? You two looked awfully close. It’s kind of written all over your face.”
Bob sighed, slumping his head into his hand. “Oh boy” He murmured.
“I’m not here to make trouble for you Bob. I just want answers.”
The man looked up with resignation that there was no way back.

Next thing Mary knew, she was sat in the upstairs office, knowing that she was holding all the right cards. She looked around at the swanky place, that was equipped with not only a desk, but also a couch and antique wooden table that had a beautiful French vase resting on top of it.
After pacing around nervously for a moment, trying to tidy up the place, Bob finally composed himself. He sat down at his desk and lit a cigarette.
“So...what do you want to know?”
“How long have you and Audrey know each other for?” Said Mary, getting straight into business as she placed one leg over the other.
“Not long at all actually. She came by here 4, maybe 5 weeks ago, looking for somewhere to buy. I guess one thing led to another.”
“And did you ever get round to the business end of things?”
Bob shook his head with a little smirk on his face. “Not really no.”
“Did you know that your property was being used as a hideout for these art robbers?”
Bob shook his head again. “I had no idea. It’s exactly what I told the police.”
“But I bet the police never asked you why Audrey was present at the scene when everything went down.”
“No...They didn’t,” replied Bob assertively, behind the cloud of smoke.
“Because they had no idea that you had a connection to her.”
The man shook his head.
“So what was she doing there? It’s not a coincidence is it.”
The man sighed. “She uses it...or should I say USED it, unofficially. Off the record books.”
“That’s a peculiar arrangement.”
“Yeah, but she just said she needed to use a place for a while, for the storage and safe facilities. And she didn’t want any questions asked. I wasn’t exactly in the position to say no, if you know what I mean.”
Mary rolled her eyes and turned over a page in her notebook.
“And then all this stuff just happened. The police turned up at my place and I didn’t know what to say! I still don’t!...This arrangement we have is certainly not something legitimate. It could affect my business if it got out. You see what I mean!”
“I understand your angle Mr Kinsler, and as I said, I’m not here to make trouble for you.”
“Thank you.”
“So do you think that Audrey was behind the robbery at the metropolitan museum?”
Bob shrugged his shoulders. “No questions asked... That was the arrangement.”
“But you must admit, it looks likely at this point.”
“No questions asked.”

Re: The Adventures of Mary Dingleby

Postby Dick Dastardly » Wed Aug 17, 2016 2:20 am

Mary left the office in an uplifted mood. She still felt that Audrey was largely connected to the robbery. She was using the place for her own personal gain, independent of Goldstein Arts, and this was confirmed by the owner of the land. It is of course possible that whilst she was using it, the robbers moved in, unaware of that set up and this is when they crossed paths. That would explain the whole kidnapping scenario. But despite that, there was definitely something underhand going on. When Mary asked Audrey at the crime scene why she was there, she said she was scouting it out as a possible storage space. Why would she say this when she was already using it unofficially? Why would she need to come look at it again alone? And why did she need to use the space in such a secret way in the first place? Mary felt that it had something to do with the mourning breeze.
_

It was a Saturday night at the metropolitan opera theatre, and way up in one of the special seats, sat one William Crocket, eager to sample some of the culture in the time he was planning to stay in New York. He clasped his hands together and nodded appreciatively at the powerful voice that bellowed out from a large man on stage. In the midst of this deafening performance, a butler came walking through a curtain on to this little platform and leant down next to the ear of the gentleman.
“There is a call for you Mr Crocket.”
William was a little taken back at first, but realised that he put himself into this situation of being able to be contacted at all times. He nodded and followed the butler out. In the hallway was another butler, holding out a tray that had a red telephone sat on it. William picked it up, anxious to get back to the show.
“Hello?”
“William, Hi, it’s Betty.”
“Miss Balentine! What a pleasant surprise. How could I be of assistance to you this evening.”
“I’m really sorry to disturb your opera.”
“Not at all my dear, business comes first.”
“I was just quickly phoning to let you know that I am meeting with Edward Andersen tomorrow morning for breakfast. Would you care to join us?”
“My lady, it would be a pleasure to be in your company, but unfortunately I have other matters to attend to. But I don’t think my presence is all together necessary. I think you will be able to handle the negotiations, as it were, all by yourself.”
“Alright, that’s fine Mr Crocket. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”
“And I thank you for that Miss Balentine.”
“You have a pleasant evening.”
“And the same to you my lady.”
William slammed down the phone in frustration that his evening had been interrupted by such trivial matters. He re-parted his hair to the side and briskly walked back to his viewing platform, closely followed by the butler. He sat down and re-adjusted his bow tie, and in this moment of calmness, he began to gather some thoughts. He realised that after Betty’s meeting tomorrow morning, it would be almost certain, that the auction was going to be held at this atrium house. The man chuckled to himself with reflective delight. Time for the first plan of action then.

Later that night, the local police station felt like something of a ghost town. All of the staff had long gone home, leaving just one man in charge. He accepted his responsibility with pride...by falling asleep on a chair. He was slumped by a desk that held had a mess of papers on it, along with a cold cup of coffee and the keys to every cell that lined the wall in front of him.

Only one of those steel bar cells was currently occupied, by the two robbers, Jimmy and Shaun. They sat on the bench, in sombre mood as Jimmy played a harmonica, awaiting the morning when they were to be taken to court, and then to prison after no doubt. They admitted their guilt to the police and accepted full responsibility and that was that.

The prison officer suddenly let out a huge snore. So loud that it actually woke him up momentarily, as he jumped in his sitting position. He anxiously stared at the two criminals, to reassure himself that they were there. He then scattered his hand over the table and grabbed the keys. He let out a huge sigh of relief and closed his eyes once more. However, the moment he did this, a wet towel came forcefully over his mouth while another arm wrapped around his upper body, just under the shoulders.
“Mmmmmph!!!” He shouted as he began to struggle weakly.
“Hush hush sleepy head,” whispered William Crocket, towering over him. “Relax, and soon it will be all over.”
The guard’s futile attempts continued for a few seconds later with muffled protests, before the chloroform took effect and he fell into unconsciousness and slumped further into his chair. William moved his hair back after it came out of its combed over perfection, and re-adjusted his tie. He was a lot more flustered than he was anticipating. The man then looked over to the cell, and staring back at him was a couple of very confused men.

“I’m here to...BUST you out, as you might say,” remarked William.
“Who are ya?” Said Jimmy, standing up with both excitement and anxiety.
“That’s not important right now. But you must come with me, and then I am going to tell you what comes next. Is that clear gentlemen?”
Both men nodded, knowing that this was their only ticket out.

The villain took the keys from the table and unlocked the steel bar gate. Jimmy and Shaun followed him out of the building and they swiftly got into a black limousine that had blacked out windows as well. Within a couple of seconds, the vehicle was away and the men were free, just like that. They could hardly believe their luck, even considering they were Irish!

“I read about you two in the news.” Said William, sat across from the robbers, with a glass of champagne in his hand.
“You did?...What did they say about us?” asked Shaun, leaning forward.
“Oh nothing much....Just that you are a couple of incompetent low life failures.”
“Ah, nuts!!”
“But I know that the papers have a tendency to over exaggerate these things, so I’m willing to give you a chance...That, and because I don’t know anybody else in this city who could do what I need them to do.”
“What is it that you’re wanting us to do?” Asked Jimmy.
William sipped his champagne. “The mourning breeze.”
The men stared at him blankly, waiting for an addition to this remark.
“Really?” said William in disgust. “Nothing?...Don’t you gentleman know anything about art? Or the world for that matter?”
“Isn’t that a movie I just saw? Yeah that’s it, it has Audrey Hepburn in it. She’s one fine broad.” Rambled Shaun.
William interrupted this by slamming his fist on to the leather car seat. “No it is not a movie! It is an incredibly valuable painting!”
The men froze in horror. William laughed it off and re-adjusted his suit jacket. “I apologise for that outburst. I must remember that you American’s are perhaps not quite as cultured as a man like myself.”
“What does cultured mean?” whispered Shaun into the ear of Jimmy.
“But regardless of that,” continued William, “I want you two gentlemen to help me steal it.”
“And, what’s in it for us?” Quizzed Jimmy.
“You will be greatly rewarded, don’t worry about that young Jimmy. We can talk about that later. But what needs to be remembered is that I am all you have. You boys are on the run now. I can provide you with a hideout, a job, and a future. Something that you didn’t have only a few minutes ago.”
The robbers were silent and continued to listen as they were being won over.
“There is going to be an auction in the coming weeks, where this very valuable painting is going to be sold and the proceeds given to charity. I am a significant shareholder at Goldstein Art and therefore have a significant foot in the door. We’re going to get that painting out of the door.”
“But how?”
“We will come to that good fellows. For now, we shall go to your temporary home that is in the small town where the auction shall be held. You shall remain there until I give you further notice. You will not do anything that will put yourself, and most importantly me, in jeopardy. Are we clear on that?”
“Agreed,” Said Jimmy and Shaun at exactly the same time.
“Who’s the driver anyway?” said Jimmy.
“His identity does not concern you, but he has been rewarded handsomely to do this deed and keep it zipped. He knows that any sway from this agreement will result in a sticky end. I suggest the both of you two keep that in mind.”
“Yes Boss,” Said the goons at the same time.
“Because we don’t like sticky ends do we.”
“No Boss.”
“We like money ends...don’t we.”
“Yes Boss.”
“Splendid,” said William calmly as he sat back and looked out of the window into the night.
Shaun hesitantly put his hand up. “Can-can we have a bit of that champagne boss?”
“Absolutely not.”
_
It was 8am the following morning in a small, but very expensive French coffee shop in the upper west side of Manhattan. Nancy Mayfield came alone and was seated at a large table, in anticipation of the company she was about to receive. A waitress came by quickly and handed her a menu that she took gracefully. The woman was not exactly a breakfast kind of person, but a nice cappuccino would certainly not go a miss at this early hour. She glanced quickly over the drinks section, and when her eye diverted to the doorway, she saw her friend Betty Balentine walk inside elegantly. She waved delicately with her fingers and walked over in her high heels. Nancy stood up to greet the lady with a pleasant hello and a kiss on both cheeks as they softly embraced.
“How are you sweety!?” Exclaimed Nancy, “I haven’t seen you since I heard the news!”
“Oh I know,” replied Betty as she sat down at the table and place her handbag down on the marble floor. “It’s just been hectic ever since I found out, and a trip to England to top it all off!”
“Oh yeah! How was it?” Asked a curious Nancy as she leaned forward and rested her chin on her palm that was covered with the expensive leather glove she wore.
Betty took a menu from the waitress who drifted by.“Delightful my darling. Delightful. Well...not the funeral. But certainly the overall experience and with the opportunity to meet my long lost family, it was a worthwhile trip I must say.”
“Amazing...And how is it all going then? I read in the newspapers that you are selling this really valuable painting to charity?”
“That’s correct. It was Donald’s wishes, and a kind of legal requirement for me to continue being the majority shareholder in the dealership.”
“Is that so?” said Nancy nodding. “But aren’t you a little peeved that you won’t make any money yourself over this?”
Betty dropped her menu down and looked at her friend with a little smirk. “Seriously? I was at first.”
Nancy smiled, understanding the woman perfectly. “But now? I’m really on board with the idea. And hey, there will be plenty of opportunity for that kind of stuff later on.”
Nancy shook her head slowly from side to side. “My my. Betty Balentine. Look at you now. Remind me, what did you do to deserve this?”
“Haha, don’t ask me how this happened. Somebody must be looking after me upstairs.”
“You bet!”
“Well thank you for coming anyway,” remarked Betty appreciatively.
“No problem whatsoever. A chance to hang out with the owner of the met museum is certainly not something for me to pass up on! With any luck, he’ll pay for this over priced coffee!”
Betty giggled. “Well anyway, It would just make me feel a little more comfortable. I’ve know Edward Andersen for a long time, but I’ve never dealt with him in this way before.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, It’s kind of businessy now.”
“Oh get you!”
“Well he owns the Atrium house, near to where we live.”
“That old mansion? Really!? I never knew that.”
“Hmm. Well it would be the perfect place to host an auction for the sale of the mourning breeze.”
“Yeah I guess it would...So you’ve arranged this to convince him to allow such an auction.”
“Correct. There is probably a million places I could do it in this city, but this place would be ideal, and would be good for community spirit and getting other attendants to donate even more to charity.”
“Sounds like good logic to me, and he seems like a good man. So why wouldn’t he say yes?”

The ladies were interrupted by the appearance of the man in question and his wife. Upon sight of them, they immediately rose from their seats and the usual pleasantries were exchange. Rosie Andersen kissed Betty on the cheek as they embraced elegantly.
“My dear, such wonderful news! Me and Edward were over the moon when we heard.”
Edward spoke with a huge smile, “Who would have known that you were related to the late, great Donald Goldstein! I had the pleasure of meeting him once or twice. A mild mannered man, liked to keep himself to himself. But boy did he have a good eye for art!”
Betty returned the smiles with great glee, and eventually all those who were present sat down.
“Who’s hungry?” Remarked Edward as he shuffled off his suit jacket. “I could really go for a continental breakfast.”
“Oh Edward,” said Rose sitting next to her husband, “You know that if you eat too much, it affects your motivation.”
“Well I don’t have much on today thankfully. I regard this little rendezvous as my most important meeting!” The elderly gentleman looked over his shoulder and signalled the waitress, who came over speedily. Coffee was ordered for all, along with various nibbles between the four, courtesy of Edward.
“I can’t believe that Donald acquired the mourning breeze. He really managed to keep that one under the radar.”
“I know,” agreed Betty. “Can you imagine how I felt when I was told that I was being left a business and then told that the destiny of that painting is in my hands?”
“It must have been so exciting,” remarked Rosie.
“It was. It still is actually!”
“So what are your plans in regard to the sale of this painting then?” Said Edward leaning forward and resting his weight on his forearms.
“Well that’s what I wanted to talk to you about actually,” replied Betty, suddenly feeling a little bit nervous.
“Oh?” Edward sat up again as the waitress came back with 4 coffees contained in what looked like very valuable antique cups.
“We were thinking of doing an auction.”
“We?”
“There’s another shareholder in Goldstein Arts, and a manager along with it.”
“Ah of course. These dealerships are usually arranged in such a way. So who is this other person?”
“His name is William Crocket. A British man who was an old friend of Donald’s. He owns 30% of the business and is providing assistance during the whole process. He also believes an auction would be the best way to approach this.”
“Well add me to that line of agreement!”
Betty nervously laughed, but her tension eased as the conversation was developing.
“You know,” pondered Edward, “I believe I will be able to help you out in that regard.”
Betty and Nancy glanced at each other quickly and raised their eyes in anticipation.
“Yes, yes. Do you know that I own the Atrium house?”
“Yes. A beautiful property. Why do you ask?” Betty was trying to sound as innocent as possible.
“Well, you are aware of course that there are occasionally events held there. Most of them rather unimportant actually...How would you feel to holding the auction there?”
“Edward, that would be...perfect!”
“Yes, it would definitely be the ideal place,” added Rose. “Such a lovely house it must be said. Very fitting.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” agreed Betty in an elevated mood.
Nancy suddenly decided to change the subject to add to the informal atmosphere. “So, I heard they caught the guys who robbed the museum that evening. I’m so glad they recovered the paintings for you.”
“Thank you for your concern Nancy,” said Edward appreciatively. “However, there was a bizarre twist last night.”
“Oh?” Asked a curious Betty.
“Indeed.” He glanced to his side at Rose and back to his guests. “We received a phone call this morning with news that the criminals had escaped from jail last night.”
Betty showed her shock, while Nancy put her hand softly over her open mouth.
“Yes. They were actually due to be in court this morning. But SOMEBODY got them out of there.”
“Oh dear,” said Betty.
“Yes, rather annoying I must say. However, justice will surely be done. They didn’t seem like the smartest guys, so the law will catch up to them soon enough.”
_
Mary had no time to wait around this morning. She walked purposefully into the Gazelle office and headed straight to the desk of Larry, who was busy typing up an article on the typewriter.
“You heard?” She said loudly, over the noise of persistent type writers and phone conversations.
“Yeah, it’s the talk of the town this morning. One of our guys has even managed to get a section about it in this morning’s edition!”
“How do you think they got out?” Pushed Mary as she sat down on the chair next to her colleague and dropped her handbag carelessly on the carpeted floor.
“Busted out is the word going round.” Said Larry as he took his glasses off and looked at Mary.
“An inside job do you think?”
“No. The officer on duty was found tied up and gagged. This was done by somebody on the outside.”
“The person who was lined up to buy those paintings perhaps. Those two goons must work for them on a full time basis!”
“You think they are just carrying out dirty work for this person?” Replied Larry as he leaned back and linked his fingers behind his head.
“It certainly looks that way...But we definitely know that someone is looking out for them.”
“But couldn’t it be family or friends? It doesn’t necessarily have to be someone connected with the previous crime.”
“True. I might go speak to my contact about whether anyone saw anything suspicious.”
“The cab driver??? Bit of a long shot isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but it’s my foot into that network of drivers. Through all the people he knows, someone might have seen something going on near the police station. You never know!”
Larry nodded, agreeing with her logic. “You’re right.” But his face then changed to concern. “But didn’t you say that you wanted to go speak face to face with Audrey Meadows this morning? You were really keen on that.”
“Oh of course!” Recalled Mary. “I totally forgot about that!”
“I could do it for you,” suggested Larry.
“Hmmm,” pondered Mary. “I don’t know.”
“Come on, I’m here to help. You can’t juggle all this by yourself. It will become too much.”
“Ok, agreed. It may be good to hit her from a different angle anyway.”
“So where are we up to on her?”
“Well she was lying about her connection to that building where the robbers were caught.”
Larry raised his eyes in surprise.
“She told me that she was just looking into it as a possible storage space. But I found out that she is having an affair with Donald Kinsler, the owner of that land. Turns out that she is already using it for her own personal use, nothing connected to Goldstein Arts whatsoever.”
“Fascinating.”
“We know that she was lying. But she doesn’t know that we know. You know?”
“I...think?”
“Anyway, head into it pretending that you know zero about all that. If she lies again, then we definitely can’t ignore it.”
“Alrighty then!”

Mary left promptly with real intent, leaving Larry at his desk trying to muster up the courage to give Audrey that phone call. He looked around the office floor to see numerous other reporters and staff hurrying themselves with dedication to their job. He looked down at the card that had been given to him by Mary, clearly stating the home phone number of the woman in question. After a couple of deep breaths, he eventually circled in the number on the red telephone by the desk. He held it against his ear anxiously while the dialling tone was repeating itself over and over again. Nobody was coming to the phone, it continued to ring out endlessly. If she was in, surely she would have answered by now? It’s no use, I’ll try again later. Yeah...later will be better.
“Hello, Audrey Meadows speaking,” came a voice out of the blue.
Larry shook in his chair, completely caught off guard, as if it was the first time he had ever heard someone speak.
“Hello, is anybody there?” Said Audrey.
“Yes, yes, hello! This is Larry Fisher here.”
“Larry who?”
“I-I work at the Gazzelle. I believe you spoke to my colleague Mary some days ago?”
There was a brief pause. “Ahhh yes, Mary. Delightful young girl.”
“Yeah, she is indeed. Well, she informed me that you were willing to help her out if she needed the assistance.”
“Did I?”
“According to Mary. However, she is currently busy at the moment with other errands and she asked me to step in for her.”
“Well Larry, I’m not sure how much assistance I could be at this stage. Don’t the police already know everything about that case? Except for the whereabouts of those criminals of course.”
“You-you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself Miss Meadows. We could use all the help we could get, we’re trying to do a follow up story and it would be great if I could come see you and ask a few questions. Completely off the record of course.”
There was another pause, and Larry clinched his teeth in nervous anticipation.
“Fine.”
The man clenched his fist in delight and motioned a scream of delight with his mouth silently.
“That’s great Miss Meadows. Could I please have your address so I could make arrangements to get over to you?”
_

Mary entered a large indoor garage, greeted by blank looks from various taxi drivers as they entered or exited their vehicles. At the far end was the sight of Luke, cleaning out his cab after another overnight shift. He looked up to see Mary approach him.
“There she is!” He said enthusiastically, going over to her and giving her a big hug, much to the surprise of the reporter.
“Hey...you,” she replied as she eventually hugged him back awkwardly.
“How’s the reporting going on? You here about those guys escaping?” Said the man as he went back to his task, whilst keeping his mouth working at the same time.
“I did, I did. It’s huge right?”
“Tell me about it.”
“That’s what I’m here for actually. To see of you knew anything about that, any word on the street or anything.”
“Well I’m glad you called actually, because I might have something you know. It’s a bit long though, if you know what I’m saying.”
Mary pulled out her notepad and pen. “No, please go ahead. Anything could be a big help.”
The cab driver dropped his cloth and walked up closer to Mary again, after glancing over his shoulder.
He began to speak quieter, which was unnatural for him. “I wasn’t around that area at all last night, but speaking to a couple of other drivers I know, they said that a limousine was parked up outside the police station in the early hours for a short while.”
“A limousine!?...Do they know what time?”
“Can’t help you on that one, but I know it was late last night. It’s possible it was during the big escape.”
“Right...But are there any other buildings around the station that might have somebody needing a limousine.”
“I wouldn’t say so. It’s not that kind of area. That’s why these guys remember it, because it’s unusual for that part of New York to just have a limousine pulled up there.”
“Interesting,” pondered Mary.
“And my guess is...It’s only one of two companies that would be active at that time.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah...Benson and Harman luxury drive or Capital comfort services. As far as I know, they are the only ones that would be doing a job at that time of night. And these guys I know said that it actually looked like a Capital comfort car.”
“I see,” said Mary, frantically scribbling this information down. “Has any of this been mentioned to the police?”
“I don’t think so. It was kind of mentioned in passing, and I guess I was the only one who thought there was something funny ‘bout dat!”
“So you haven’t spoken to the police?” Asked Mary again, seeking re-assurance.
Luke shook his head confidently. “The cops don’t do nothing for us when we get into trouble. I’d much rather speak to someone I trust. Like yourself.”
Mary smiled, “Well you can be sure that I’ll be doing everything I can. If I get something concrete, then I’ll let the police know.”
“That seems fair,” agreed Luke as he spread his arms open.

_

Larry took a bus over to the rich part of Queens, taking in the delights of the suburban paradise that had emerged as the vehicle pulled away from the cramped streets near the centre of the city. After walking a few blocks, the young man eventually reached a large house that resembled the address that he had quickly scribbled down on paper during the phone call with Audrey. It was a startling property to look at, with slight similarities to the white house in it’s construction, albeit somewhat smaller. However, a masterpiece nonetheless and it left Larry considering how much money Goldstein Arts made if the manager could afford a place like this!

He approached the door awkwardly, but did not hesitate too much. He had come this far and it was no use getting cold feet now. His growing confidence was put into a hard knock at the door that surely rang through the whole house. He turned around a looked back out onto the street so see children drift by on bicycles and a couple of flash cars drift past on the quiet street.

Suddenly the door opened, and Larry was instantly captivated by the appearance of Audrey stood at the door. She was wearing a beautiful blue summer dress, with small red flowers dotted around it and had her long black hair flowing down past the back of her shoulders.

“Mr Fisher?”
Larry grabbed at his glasses and instantly dropped them to the ground.
“Oh dear!” He said and went down to grab them, as Audrey stood at the door way, with one hand on the frame and a smouldering smile.
Larry stood up flustered and offered his hand out. “Yes, pleasure to meet you Miss Meadows.”
“Please...call me Audrey,” she said with an unnerving aura.

He was kindly let in to the extremely large hallway, which was dominated by a large white staircase that was covered with a light red carpet on the steps.
“Beautiful place you have here,” remarked Larry as he stood on the wooden floor, awaiting further instruction.
“Thank you. But you should see the mortgage.”
Audrey walked through an archway on her left into a large living room, and when she drifted out of sight, Larry realised he was meant to follow. He walked delicately in the same direction, but was not greeted by the woman’s presence. There was an archway on the far right side of that room, where the distant voice of Audrey began to speak again.
“Could I offer you a drink Mr Fisher? Coffee? Tea? Perhaps something a liiiiiiitle stronger?”
“No, just a water for me please,” shouted Larry, accompanied with a nervous laugh as he bounced on his toes.
The man took this opportunity to look around the living room that was filled with all kinds of delightful furniture, paintings and even a large television in the corner. The wallpaper crème coloured and above was what looked like an antique chandelier. Could a manager really afford a living situation like this?

The reporters train of thought was interrupted when Audrey stepped back into the room ,equipped with a glass of water that she quickly handed to him.
“Please,” said Audrey, opening her hands up to the red couch in front of them, “make yourself comfortable.”
The man sat down, but not all the way back, rather just perching himself on the edge as he held that drink firmly with both hands. Audrey on the other hand, sat back into the chair that was on a 90 degree angle to the couch and crossed one leg over the other and flicked back her hair that happened to be over her chest area.

“So...what can I do for the GAZZELLE” She asked with that unsettling calmness.
“Well, it’s nothing too specific. J-just a bit of a follow up.”
“Ok Mr Fisher. You go right ahead. Do your worst!” She said, followed by a laughter that was most insincere.
Larry let out a fake chuckle himself, as he got out his notepad and pen.
“So you told my colleague, Mary, that you had been captured by the criminals in question when you were scouting out the place as a possible storage.”
“That’s true, that’s true. However, I don’t believe I disclosed a certain detail to your colleague that perhaps I should have.”
“Oh no?”
“No. I must say that I must have been a little out of sorts, after the ordeal that I had just been through. Yes, It is true that I was there to scout out the place, but I actually already had a deal in place with the owner.”
“Mr Kinsler?”
“Correct! Bravo, Mr Fisher. You sure are one resourceful young man.”
Larry blushed and smiled with grinning teeth.
“Yes, I was already using the place as a temporary spot actually.”
“You were? Was there a record of this in this office?” Asked Larry, pretending to flick through his notes, knowing that it was an off-the-record arrangement.
“No...It was more of an off-the-record arrangement.”
“Right.” Larry was surprised about the honesty of Audrey. He had prepared to find that she was still covering that up, but now the game had changed, and the man was finding it difficult to adapt.
“I was using it to store some valuables of mine, in preparation for moving house.”
“You’re-you’re moving house?”
“Correct. Didn’t you notice the sign outside?”
Larry arched his back to look out of the window to the front lawn. “Oh. That one must have by-passed me.” He chuckled nervously. “Not exactly with it today.”
Audrey smiled. “Well anyway, there’s a lot of money tied up in this kind of situation at the moment, and other things I’m not prepared to go in to. But that property of Donald’s has some special safes, that are not so easily accessed.”
“But why did you not do this officially?”
“Well he wasn’t going to charge me you see. A very generous man if you ever meet him, but of course, questions would have been asked if customers and such people would have found out what was going on between us. I know it’s slightly...illegitimate.”
“Erm...slightly.”
Audrey suddenly raised her hands up, showing her palms. “So are you here to arrest me?”
Larry laughed. “No, that’s the job of the police. I’m just a reporter.”
“Yes...Just a reporter. But you breed of people are pushy non-the-less...I sometimes wish I was a magician you know.”
“You do?”
“Yes...And do you know what trick I would like to be able to do the most?”
Larry shook his head whilst trying to keep a straight face.
“The ability to make somebody...DISSAPPEAR!” Said the woman with wide, glaring eyes.
Larry gulped, while she got out of her seat and started to wander behind the young gentleman.
“Tell me Larry. Is there a...Mrs Fisher?”
“No-N-no. No Mrs Fisher,” he replied looking left and right to try gather the location of the person he was trying to interview.
Suddenly he felt Audrey’s soft hands fall like snowflakes onto his shoulders, and it caused him to instantly tense up.
“Oh really? But a young handsome man like yourself should be married shouldn’t he?”
“I-I-I guess, but..” Larry became very distracted as the lady began to massage him gently.
“Well, plenty of time for all that. I can see that you are very dedicated at your job at the moment.” Audrey lent down so her face was close to the man’s ear. “No woman can compete with that!”
Larry’s face was bright red with embarrassment. “And is there a Mr Meadows?”
“There’s a Mr Crocket. But we are estranged. Not even worth mentioning.”
“I see...Is it me or is it getting really hot in here!?”
Audrey let go of her grip suddenly and went to sit down on the chair again, leaving Larry captivated.
“Now...I think you should go back to that office of yours and tell that Lois Lane that she’s chasing a dead end here. There’s some really baddies out there who need to be chased down and fast. Women everywhere are depending on a hero like you to save us from that, so I hate that you came out all this way when you could be doing something so much better...Don’t you agree Larry?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah I guess. I tried to tell her that it was a long shot, but you know...WOMEN!”

“MEN!!!” shouted Mary in the face of Larry with her arms open, as they stood face to face in the Gazzelle office.
“W-w-what?”
“You were meant to go over and dig deep into what’s going on, but instead you come back all googly-eyed and completely seduced by her! How could you let this happen!?”
“But Mary, I’m telling you, she didn’t lie and she opened up about how she was using that building to help her out as she moved house.”
“And you bought that!?”
“It-it-it adds up.”
“She could have told you she was using the place for a circus act and you would have accepted it!”
Larry took off his glasses to wipe them clean of the steam that had gathered on the inside.
“I’m telling you, she didn’t seem like she was hiding anything. If she was so intent on hiding her association with that property, why would she tell me all that stuff? Without me even prompting her!”
“Don’t you see what happened Larry?”
The man shook his head.
“She spoke to Bob Kinsler. They’re having an affair dummy, so of course, he must have told her that I paid him a little visit and that he blew the cover...partially. Now she’s just covering her tracks. It’s that simple!”
“But what cover up are we talking about here Mary? Even if there is one, surely it’s got to the point where it’s dissolved and has no trace anymore.”
“Everything has a trace. We just need to know the right people to speak to is all.”
Larry shrugged his shoulders, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with that statement. “Ok. So what about the word from your contact? Anything come good of that?”
Mary nodded enthusiastically. “The word from the late night cab drivers is that there was a limousine parked outside the police station in the late hours of last night.”
“A limousine!? Who could that be a getaway car for, Eisenhower himself!?” Larry speculated sarcastically.
“I know, peculiar isn’t it?”
“Are you sure that it’s connected to the escape?”
“It’s not certain. But it’s likely considering that all the cab drivers said it’s unusual for that type of vehicle to be parked at that time of night, in that part of the city.”
Larry began rubbing his chin as he leaned forward in his chair. “So we’re definitely looking at an outside job then. Somebody definitely wanted these guys out of that cell quickly.”
“Indeed. I’m thinking that it was the person or persons that they worked for. Somebody in that network of robbers at least. I’m telling you, the criminal world is far more organised than the police in these times.”
“But we’re just going round and round the speculative stage Mary. Bad guys don’t get put in jail on speculation.”
“Which is why I’m going to be following up on the next lead...My contact says it was most likely a capital comfort car, so I’m going to phone that service and if a car was stolen or see who was working the later shift.”
“Good idea. And should I sit here twiddling my thumbs?”
“You should do your job. One of us needs to keep up appearances at least, until we make serious progress on this case. And you don’t get to interview female leads anymore.”
“What!?”
“I’m not having you and your gaping mouth jeopardizing this for us!”

Re: The Adventures of Mary Dingleby

Postby Dick Dastardly » Wed Aug 17, 2016 2:22 am

_
After another busy day in the city, Betty got the train back out to Harwood where her home was. Of course, if she really wanted to, she could have stayed in Manhattan in a swanky hotel on the companies expenses. However, because she was the owner of a small clothes shop in this small community, the hustle and bustle of New York was something that she needed to escape, so going back and forth between the two places was something she was willing to do every day. Luckily for her, she had a good friend in Nancy, who was keeping things in check at the store whilst she was away; otherwise she would find it impossible to juggle all these responsibilities. Furthermore, she was planning on meeting Edward Anderson and William Crocket in this small town tomorrow so that the three of them could go take a look at Atrium house and sort out the final details of staging the auction there.

After leaving the small platform station, the lady only had a small walk to her street and was happy to get some fresh air in this open space. She walked briskly, greeting familiar faces on her way, and then looked at an old factory building on her left. It was actually a log cutting facility. Very rare for this part of the state, and this part of the country for that matter, and it somewhat explains its demise. However, Betty could not help but regret how it had been allowed to just wither away like this. Atrium house was acquired by Edward Andersen and restored to its former glory, so why couldn’t the same thing happen to this place? The building could certainly be put to great use. Suddenly, something clicked in the woman’s brain. Maybe SHE could be the one to restore it. She knew that she would be making more money now with Goldstein Arts, so why not use this fortune to rebuild the little pockets of this small, but wonderful community?

She desperately wanted to go inside and take a look, and in her youth, she would not have hesitated. But being dressed in a bright yellow pencil dress and high heels, it wasn’t exactly the ideal time. Betty could not shake off her curiosity though, and always wondered what the place would look like, and more importantly, what it could look like with a bit of work. There was a gate to the land, but it was not locked or properly guarded. In a upper middle class area like this, security was not such a big issue. Suddenly though, Betty was caught off guard by a shadow appearing across one of the windows of the upper floor. There was somebody in there! No doubt it was the owner of the property, and this would be as good a time as any to enquire about its status. So without any more contemplation, the woman headed into the building with a recently acquired adventurousness! There was a large archway that opened into the place. There may or may not have once been a doorway there. It was hard to tell. But once inside, there was evidence of a once thriving industry, with large conveyor belts and large buzz saw cutters that would have quickly split the large tree logs that would have been loaded on throughout the day. The machinery of yesterday was long past it’s sell by date though and would have no use anymore, but Betty could see the large space that it occupied and started to envision what it could be used for. At the far side of the room was a door. It looked like an office with translucent windows around it. That was where she saw the figure moving, so without a moment to spare she went to speak to the man. As she approached closely, Betty could see a small desk lamp was on. She knocked gently and waited patiently. After a couple of moments, the figure began to move towards the door and began speaking before he reached it.

“Oh hey Boss, I wasn’t expecting you so s...” Jimmy opened the door and almost jumped out of his skin upon the sight of the lady stood in front of him. Betty stared back at him, frozen in position, as recognition was starting to set in, and Jimmy could see that. At first, he didn’t know how to react.
“Could I be...of some assistance to you?” He eventually said.
_

Mary entered an incredibly fancy looking building in downtown Manhattan, as close to Broadway as the woman was ever likely to get! It was a tall hotel building, built in an ancient Greek classical revival way, around the early 1920’s it appeared. According to the address that she had received from the secretary on the telephone, the main office was located in this hotel, simply because the majority of its customers were residents or temporary occupants here.

After a few moments of an overwhelming feeling of what it was like to be stinking rich, the young reporter noticed a sign on a large glass door to her left that spelled the name of the limousine company. The sun was quickly going down, and who knew how long they were going to be open for, so Mary did not hesitate to enter. She felt confident as she had done her homework before coming here. Cleverly, she rang this office to compliment a driver on his service very late last night. What was his name again? Barry Norman. He was the one driver who was working late on the night that the robbers had escaped from jail. This is what the secretary had told her.

The room was empty, except for one desk that was in front of a door that said “manager” on the front of it. The desk was currently manned by a young woman, probably the secretary that she spoke to on the phone. She looked up from her typewriter and greeted Mary with a big smile.
“Hello, how may I help you?” She said with one of those annoyingly high pitched “helpful” voices.
“Hi, I’m looking for my friend Barry Norman. Is he working tonight?”
The woman looked a little perplexed. “Barry? Hmmm, I’m not sure. Let me just ask my manager.”
She pressed a button on a speaker and leaned down to be heard better. “Mr Lanister, is Barry back with us yet?”
“Barry!? No...Who’s asking!?” Came a moody voice.
The secretary looked up at Mary with a blank face.
“Mary...I’m a friend of his.”
The secretary leaned down again. “A friend of his Mr Lanister.”
Suddenly, the manager’s door immediately behind the desk opened and out stepped a middle aged man, who looked like he was losing a lot of sleep. “Do you know where Barry is?”
“I...don’t. I was just seeing if he was working today.”
“But aren’t you his friend?” Said Mr Lanister impolitely as the secretary was typing away in front of him.
“An old friend. Friend of the family. It’s been a while anyway.”
“Well if you happen to see that old friend of yours, tell him he’s not welcome here anymore. He left me in the lurch, you know that!?”
“Really? What did he do?”
“Does one late shift, and BOOM, he disappears. No call. No letter. Nothing.”
“So he never returned when he did the late night driving?”
“Oh, he came back that night. But the next day? No Barry.”
Mary paused for thought. “Do you know who he was driving?”
Mr Lanister threw his arms open with frustration and confusion. “What in God’s name has that got to do with it!? He ain’t here when he should be! That’s all I care about.”
“I don’t know. It might just explain why he’s not here anymore. It sounds to me that you’re so upset because he was a very reliable worker before that.”
The manager squinted his eyes as he stared at Mary and pondered. “Who the hell are ya? You sound like a reporter.”
The young woman clenched her teeth and let out an apologetic smile.
_
“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when you asked me if I need assistance,” Said Betty, feeling the rope being pulled tighter. “You won’t get away with this you know, your face is all over the news.”
Normally she’d assist that speech by raising a finger at the man, had he not rudely tied her up. Sat on the chair in the office, masses of thin yellow rope wrapped around her body, pinning her arms to her side. Feet tied together for good measure. She grunted and wriggled, as the man grabbed a role of white tape, but she had only the tinniest bit of leeway in her shoulders.
“This is true, yes.” Jimmy ripped off a piece of tape. “But nobody needs to know I was here.”
“What are you-mmmmmph!” He placed it over her mouth, silencing the lady.
“Perhaps you were too busy snooping around that you failed to see the notice outside the building.”
“Mmmphmmlm,” with another frustrated wriggle.
Jimmy grabbed a duffer bag from the table, all of his contents inside. He wasn’t planning on coming back. “There’s a controlled demolition of this building planned.” He glanced down at his watch and raised his eyebrows in astonishment. “First thing tomorrow morning actually!”
“Mmmm?”
The man chuckled, and headed towards the door. No reason to stick around any longer. “Should be quite the spectacle I think. Have fun!”
As he was closing the door behind him, Betty leaned her head to the side to try keep him in sight. “Mmmphm” She muffled softly, with desperately concerned eyes. The door slammed shut.


_

The secretary of Capital comfort flicked through the pages of a large black book, with both Mary and Mr Lanister looking over each shoulder.
“So do you really work for the Gazzelle?” Said the high pitched woman, which caused both Mary and the manager to move their heads back with shock.
“That’s right,” replied Mary, with a finger in her ear.
“And you think Barry is in trouble?” Asked the manager, who was now in a much calmer mood.
“It’s hard to say at this point. You said that the limousine was not stolen, meaning that Barry was definitely in use of the vehicle. From my information, it could be, that Barry was driving this vehicle when it was used as a getaway car in the escape from the jail.”
“Ah come on!! Barry would never be involved in something like that!!”
“Which leads me to believe that he was doing it against his will. He was coerced into doing it, by the person who had hired your services... Any closer to a name?”
“I got it,” said the secretary. “Barry’s limousine was used by a..........Montgomery Weasley.”
“That name means nothing to me,” said Mary, looking off into the distance. “Did this gentleman happen to come into the office to ask for your service?”
Mr Lanister shook his head. “He phoned, I distinctly remember now.”
“So I’m guessing that it wasn’t somebody from this hotel. Otherwise they probably would have walked straight in.”
“That’s a good guess I guess,” replied Mr Lanister.
“I’m going to need to speak to Barry.”
“I’ve tried phoning him dozens of times. Never an answer.”
“Have you been to his home yet?”
Mr Lanister shook his head....
_

The last thing William Crocket wanted to do right now was head out to Harwood. In truth, he only wanted to be in that mundane little town for the auction. Catching the train was not something he was accustomed to either, the only connection they had to his life up to now was facilitating robberies of them. But, being rational, he decided it was the best option to hide out his two hired goons. Temporary business arrangement. Luckily he found them an abandoned warehouse that was in complete neglect. No security or any sort of presence. The only downside being the location and the lack of communication between them, hence why it was necessary for the man to make the trip to long island. Would be a damn sight easier if someone just invented a phone that could be taken anywhere!

The sun had almost set, and the lighting inside the warehouse was not the best. Better make this quick. As he approached the gap in the fence, William suddenly noticed a large sign by the entrance gates that were closed with a padlock. The man couldn’t remember seeing that when he was last here, two days ago. Most certainly new. He walked up to it and inspected its contents.
“By gosh, there is a demolition of this place tomorrow!”
He could feel the anger inside him as his plans had been dashed. This was quite the obstacle that he did not hope for, and he did not wish to relocate those imbeciles once again. Had they already deserted, knowing that this place would explode tomorrow, turning everything to rubble?

He had to find out. He stooped through the gap and headed towards the building, glancing over his shoulder. But to his astonishment, the door that he usually enters was completely locked. No leeway at all. They must have departed, thought William. He’d have to play the waiting game now, sitting by the phone until they’d finally tell him where they’ve moved to. The man hated this. How it was all out of his control. He was a moment away from leaving when he suddenly became paranoid as to how much evidence Jimmy and Shaun could have left there. He didn’t trust them to keep their wits at the best of times, never mind scampering away quickly. Regretfully, he scaled around the building in hope of some kind of entrance to get inside and finish the job of removing any evidence that they were there. He knew there would be some indication that the police would pick up on. And he did come all this way. No harm in taking a quick peek.

Looking through the windows, he didn’t see much. Deserted rooms. No life in them at all. He came to the last one, at the far side of the warehouse. He tutted at the thought of how long it would take to walk back. As he came from the side though, he suddenly caught sight of a person and shot back against the wall. Somebody was there! But who? He leaned across again, just enough to get the slightest of views. He drew a sharp breath. It was the delightful Betty, tied to a chair!

He no longer disguised his presence and tapped on the window. Deep frown on her forehead, she shook her body that was wrapped up with lots of rope. Her hair was a little messy and the piece of white tape across her mouth was slightly crumpled. The lady had been struggling for a while it seems. Luckily this window was open, and he was able to climb in.

He ripped off the piece of tape in one swift movement and Betty released a gasp for air.
“Oh my hero!” she said weakly.
“My lady, are you alright?” asked William as he busied himself with undoing the knots of the large amount of rope around the woman. “What on earth has happened here?”
“It was one of those robbers who escaped from jail. He was hiding here!”
“My gosh,” said William as he finished with the last of the bonds. He palmed away the rope that was covering Betty’s body and assisted the lady to a standing position on the ground once again. He held his arms behind her back and stared deep into her eyes.
“Are you alright Miss Balentine?”
She was looking down on the floor when she sighed and looked up at her rescuer.
“Thank you William, I am extremely grateful, really.” She placed a hand on his chest. “But why did you come here in the first place?”

William was taken off guard by this question. He was taken out of sorts when he saw Betty in the predicament that she was, and really, something inside him made him come to her aid. Although on more rational contemplation, the man was now considering that it would not have been such bad news to witness his fellow shareholder greet her demise. The blank would have been all his! The villain suddenly realised that he had been staring into space for a short while, and that Betty was staring up at him, waiting for an answer.
“My lady, I was on my way to your home!”
The woman looked confused. “My home?”
“That’s right. I realised that I had not yet been to this part of New York yet, and I was far too excited to wait until tomorrow...And while I walked past this building, I heard the noise of a damn machine. It all seemed a little out of sorts to me. Something was telling me that it wasn’t supposed to be that way...Turns out I was right!” The man put up a fake smile, hoping that Betty would believe him. He held the grin and stared anxiously into the woman’s eyes. She was weary though and didn’t seem to contemplate his explanation all too well.
She dropped her head with tiredness. “Well thank God you made it here in time.”
William nodded with understanding. “Now let’s get you home. There’s no use hanging in this squalor any longer!”
_

The front door to Betty’s house opened, and this set off a chorus of barking from a tiny poodle who raced up to the possible intruders. In stepped Betty first, and she immediately crouched down to greet her pet.
“Awww hello Freya!!” she said with soft exuberance. The dog barked for a couple more times, but was calmed by her owners comfort. William followed in closer behind, taking one look at the poodle before letting his eyes wonder around the home. It was a beautiful property, with the kitchen being perhaps the closest to the doorway. It was not especially large, but it had all the necessities. Behind the kitchen was a large archway that lead into a spacious room with a nice decor table as the centre piece. And to the right of William was a long hallway, with doors on either side, presumably leading to bedrooms and perhaps “offices”.

“This is a wonderful place you have here Betty. It truly is,” said William, taking off his hat.
Betty got up from her crouched position, holding Freya in her arms. “Say hello to William,” she said, speaking to the dog.
“Hello Freya,” replied William uncomfortably as he shook the tiny paw of the dog.
“I think she likes you! She’s a good judge of character you know.”
“That pleases me greatly,” said William as he saw that the dog stared at him blankly.

The woman put Freya down and headed towards the kitchen area in front of them.
“Could I get you a drink?”
“Oh nothing for me thank you. Please, only consider yourself.” The man stared down at the dog that sat and began to growl softly at him. He widened his eyes to create a menacing look, which caused the animal to suddenly cower and scamper away into the next room.
“Are you sure...I have red wine,” said Betty holding up a bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other.
“Ah now that IS another matter,” replied William smiling.

The two settled down on the couch in Betty’s living room. It was a deep red, which complimented the pink wallpaper that enclosed the room. The woman began to pour some wine into one of the glasses.
“Ah please,” William reached forward, touching Betty’s hand, which caused her to tense a little. “Allow me.”
Being the gentleman, he poured the drinks himself and handed it one of the glasses to the lady. They took a sip at the same time, but William swirled the liquid around his mouth with delight whilst staring at the contents that was left in his hand.
He gulped it down eventually. “Golly! That is amazing!!”
“I’m glad you like it. It was a present from a friend of mine,” said Betty, as she crossed one leg over the other.
“Well your friend has exceedingly good taste! Do you know, I don’t think I have had a glass of this poison since I have arrived on your land?”
“Really? Well, that is something that must change.”
“I’m glad we both agree.”
Betty quickly changed the subject. “What was my uncle like? You know...REALLY like.”
“Your uncle was an honourable man, you can be rest assured. We were business partners, that is true, but we also became great friends. It does not surprise me that even now he has passed away; he is still involved in doing something special.”
Betty flicked her hair and looked off towards the fireplace on the other side of the dimly lit room. “It’s just so overwhelming that all this has happened to me. I’m still getting used to the idea of it all.”
“You are not the only one my dear,” muttered William a split second before taking another sip of wine.
“I mean...He could have left the whole business to his family.”
“Well, they have other means of profit. This art dealership is not really necessary to their welfare.”
“I guess he could have left it all to you then!”
William paused as if he had been hit with a dagger to the heart. “I can’t say the thought has not crossed my mind dear lady.” He said, trying to keep a straight face.
Betty’s eyes were dancing around the room whilst she was in deep contemplation. “But here I am. A person who he was related to, but never met. Yes, it’s true that I have always had a great love for art. Perhaps he had somehow always known this of me...And that’s why he could trust me to fulfil his final wishes.”
“And I have absolutely no doubt that you will...With my assistance, everything should go spiffingly!” Said William excitedly as he placed his arm on top of the back cushion of the couch,
“Spiffingly...Is that even a word?”
“It is now!!!”
“And what about after this has all done, when the painting is sold and the money has been received by the charity. What’s in store next for William Crocket?”
“That’s a tricky question my dear, and not one easily answered.”
“But I assume you have other ventures back in Britain.”
“I do. I do, but they are being kept in the balance by my people.”
“Isn’t that a bit of a risk? My mother always said that if you want something done properly, you should do it yourself. I have to be honest, I am very surprised that you came here in the first place.”
“Well...If we are being honest my lady.” William reached forward and gently took hold of Betty’s glass that slipped right out of her hand gracefully. He placed his down on the table with it. “The mourning breeze was not the only reason for me coming to New York.”
“Oh no?” Betty leaned forward and giggled. “Do you have yourself a little fancy woman here?”
William was not amused. “I do not have a woman here Miss Balentine...But I was hoping you could change my fortunes.”
“Oh I’m not very good at doing this match making stuff William.”
The villain shuffled himself closer to Betty on the couch, and the arm that was resting at the back, slid down and touched her gently on the arm, just below the shoulders. The woman froze in surprise as to what was happening and felt she could not react. William, staring deep into her eyes, moved his head forward and then kissed Betty ever so delicately on the lips. After holding it for a couple of moments, he moved his face back and looked into her eyes again as she opened them slowly.
“You don’t have to Miss Balentine,” he whispered.
And then all of a sudden, both the man’s hands went behind the woman’s back. The two pressed their lips together. William pulled Betty in so that he was holding her close, squeezing the woman against him as he kissed her deeply and passionately.

_

The secretary at capital comfort cars came out of a room in the office premises, startled by the sound of knocking at the door. She looked at the large clock above her usual desk and noticed that it was not anywhere near opening time yet. Who could come by so early in the morning? Surely it wasn’t Mr Lanister, he would just use his keys. The young woman approached the door, to see who the shadow silhouette that stood outside moving frantically was. When she eventually peeked through the blinds, there to her surprise was Mary, who waved with the hand that she had just been knocking with and smiled in an apologetic way.
The woman opened the door slowly. “You’re the reporter. Can I help you with anything?”
“Yes please. It’s about Barry...you may have guessed.” The young woman laughed.
“Well I don’t know what else to tell you Mary,” squeaked the lady as she went over to the coffee pot. “I thought you were going to speak to him? Would you like coffee?”
Mary sat down in a chair just behind the secretary and crossed one leg over the other. “No...Thank you. Well yes, that was the plan. Still is actually. But I wanted to ask if I could look inside the limousine that Barry was driving last night.”
“Really?” replied the secretary. “But why?”
“See if the culprit left any clues behind. Has anyone been in there since Barry’s last shift?”
“I don’t think so...But I don’t know Mary.”
“Please...It could help. I promise you won’t get in trouble.”
The secretary sighed.

Mary was taken to a garage around the back of the hotel building. It was an extension to the main building, and therefore retained much of the classical design. Inside, there must have been around 20 limousines, neatly parked side by side and looking completely identical. Despite this, the helpful secretary was able to pinpoint exactly which car Barry was using on that particular night. He must have had the same parking spot all the time. As they drifted down the large echoing room, Mary glanced around and got her brain in to gear.
“You must have a lot of drivers on your books.”
“Oh yeaaaaah,” said the secretary over enthusiastically.
“So somebody must have seen Barry on his last day here?”
“Maybe during the day, but he was our only driver that night. All we know is that he parked up and went home. Nobody has seen him since.”
Mary nodded without much reaction. Eventually the girls reached the end of the room, and the secretary slipped into a gap between vehicles.
“Here we are,” she said as the sound of jangling keys met Mary’s ears. A moment later the door to the driver’s seat was opened. The secretary stepped back and let the reporter have a look, but Mary could not see anything amiss. The area was in pristine condition and it was almost as if nobody had ever been there. Of course, she leant in and had a little nosey around, checking for evidence that somebody was sat in the passenger seat opposite the driver. The image of somebody threatening Barry with a gun was at the forefront of her mind, but there was no sign of footprints or any kind of dirt on the mat below the seat. It did not mean that there wasn’t somebody there, just that their shoes could have been kept in immaculate condition. Was Mary looking for somebody who was very well dressed, perhaps wearing a suit??? Either that, or Larry was forced to clean his car after everything was done.

The young woman lifted her head out again, convinced that she was not to find answers in there.
“Could I take a quick look in the back?”
The secretary granted her wish and opened the back door. Mary was greeted by the long enclosure of the limousine that looked even bigger on the inside. Closest to her was some leather seats, that could have easily fitted 2 grown men. And upon closer inspection, it appeared to Mary that two people had infact been sitting there. She could tell by the sunken and creased leather. Could that have been Jimmy and Shaun, the two escaped robbers? The reporter then looked down the limousine to the far end to see another set of leather seats, very far away. It reminded her of those long wooden tables in grand mansions, where one person sits at one end, while the guest sits so far away at the other. Mary climbed in and walked over, crouched down below the roof. When she reached it, it was also clear that somebody had been sat there. But only one. The person responsible for breaking the robbers out?

In her moment of contemplation, Mary suddenly noticed something at the end of the seat, tucked in the corner and almost out of sight between the horizontal and vertical leather cushions. She reached down and pulled it out.
“A cigarette lighter?”
_

William Crocket sat at the kitchen table, looking down at the newspaper that he had picked out of Betties garden in the early hours. He placed a cigarette between his lips and reached into the inside of his jacket pocket, but was startled by its emptiness. Meanwhile Betty stood in the living room, dressed in a professional and expensive white pencil dress. She was looking into a large mirror on the wall and applying her lipstick carefully. She switched her gaze to the right a little bit to see William fumbling around his body behind her, and smiled to herself, shaking her head. What she didn’t see was her small poodle dog, sat at the man’s feet, looking up and growling. William eventually ceased his searched and looked down with those glaring eyes and the cigarette still between his lips.
“Lucky I was always keep a spare old sport,” he remarked before lighting it.
Betty entered the room and headed towards the coffee pot.
“My lady, may I say that you are looking exceedingly dazzling this morning.”
“You may,” replied Betty as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Would you like one?”
“Do you happen to have tea?”
Betty giggled. “Oh, you British men. I should have known! But it’s the least you deserve for what you did last night...And I’m not just talking about rescuing me,” she remarked as she turned around with a naughty smirk on her face.
William smiled and pulled an ashtray towards him. One that Betty kept for guests and parties.
“I think you are going to knock their socks off at the mansion today my dear.”
“Fingers crossed.”
“And why wouldn’t you?” remarked William, exhaling smoke upwards.
The lady shrugged her shoulders and turned around. “I just get nervous at these things. It’s not every day that I have to stand up in front of lots of people, let alone my own community, and convince them that it’s a good idea to host a high profile auction in one of their prized locations.”
“But Edward has already granted you his blessing to use it. It does not matter if the community disapproves or not.”
Betty looked at William with a raised eyebrow as she folded her arms.
“Ok ok,” continued the man. “I know that their opinion means a lot to you. But how could they think that it is such a bad idea?”
“People around here don’t like too much media attention. And it’s inevitable, considering the circumstances.”
“If it was any old auction, then perhaps I could understand your worries. This is for a good cause though.”
“You’re right...You’re always right.” Betty turned around and grabbed a cup. “Now is it true that you Brits like to leave the teabag in for a short while?”
“Spot on my lady.”
“Because that is exactly what I have done!” she walked from behind the kitchen counter to the table and placed the cup beside the newspaper. William turned to look up at Betty, “Thanking you!” He said with a smile, whilst she rubbed his back softly.

She then walked into the living room to pick up her handbag, leaving the villain in a moment of thought. He leaned back and smoked, congratulating himself for managing to seduce this woman, who was the golden key to the mourning breeze painting. Of course, it may have been much easier if he had let her meet her demise in that abandoned warehouse, but this way was a lot more fun...William chuckled to himself at this.

The only problem was that the hideout he had seeked for Jimmy and Shaun was now completely off limits. Not only that, but Betty had seen Jimmy’s face and even knew that he was one of the escaped burglars!!! And on top of it, where was Jimmy now? Where was Shaun? Had Shaun returned to the warehouse, seen that it had been cornered off by the police and disappeared too? William realised that he had to find them before the cops did, or it could spell big trouble for him.

“My lady!?” Shouted the man to Betty.
“Yes dear?” she replied, coming back into the kitchen putting in her ear rings.
“Please please please don’t be mad with me,” he said, carefully placing his cigarette in the ashtray and standing up. “but I have a few errands I need to take care of. I will not be able to come with you to the mansion.”
“William! You promised!!”
“I know my dear. It pains me to say it. But I have to make some long distance calls back to England, to check if everything is still in order there.”
“You could use the phone here if you want.”
William sighed. “I couldn’t do that to you. What about the phone bill? I’d much rather do it at my hotel room or at least in the Goldstein Art’s office.”
“If you insist,” said Betty as she lowered her head in disappointment.
“Hey,” replied William softly, before placing his fingers below her chin and raising her head once again. “Please believe me when I say that I want to be there.”
Betty pulled a face as if to say, I don’t believe you!!!
“But I will be with you every other step of the way...I just need to sort a little business. That’s all.”
Betty smirked. “You sound like a secret agent. Are you one?”
“Would I be more DASHING if I was?” Asked William playfully as he moved closer to the woman and placed his hands on her hips. Betty put her hands behind his neck, giggling. They locked lips.
“Mmm,” she said appreciatively. “Looking at the clock, I think I have a bit of time before I have to leave.”
The man chuckled, rather menacingly, and wrapped his arms around the lady. They immediately locked lips again and began kissing.
_

Mary walked up some stone steps towards a building with a large wooden door. When she reached the top, she saw a buzzer on the right side of the wall with a list of the occupants of the building, along with their apartment number. It didn’t take long for the reporter to pinpoint Barry’s name, and the young lady pressed its accompanying button, holding it for a moment...There was no answer. She tried again, but to no avail. Luckily a moment later, the large wooden doors opened and out stepped one of the occupants. The man smiled at Mary before placing his hat on and beginning his journey outdoors. The woman returned the pleasantries, trying to remain unsuspicious. But as the person trotted down the steps, away from the building, Mary put her foot in the gap, just in time to stop the door from closing her out. She then took one last glimpse at Barry’s apartment number, before slipping in.

Knock, knock echoed down the corridors of the cramped accommodation. So much, that Mary jumped on her toes a little bit. She waited for a little while to see if there was an answer, but her efforts seemed to be more futile by the minute. She knocked once more as a stab in the dark, a rather weak sound echoed this time. However, just as she had given up hope, there was rustling behind the door. Her eyes lit up as the sound of a chain unlocking greeted her ears. And all of a sudden, the door opened ever so slowly to the point where a still-attached chain kept it at bay. Emerging from the hideout came half the face of a grey haired man, probably in his early 60’s, with pointed facial features. Mary could tell instantly that he was somebody who had been scared out of their mind.
“Barry Norman?” began the reporter very softly.
“Are you the police?” Replied the man instantly.
“No Mr Norman, I work for the Gazzelle newspaper.”
The man looked down on the floor in hesitation, as his face drifted in and out of view. “W...What do you want?”
“I wanted to ask you a few questions about your last shift at capital comfort cars...It must have been a memorable one.”
“....I haven’t got anything to say to anybody...Please leave me alone.”
“I’m not here to make trouble for you Mr Norman. Far from it. I want to help you. The police do not have to be involved what so ever.”
The man, sensing that this confident young woman knew too much, sighed and released the chain. But without opening the door, he disappeared from view, and Mary could hear his footsteps drift into his apartment. After a moment’s hesitation, she pushed the door slowly as she could, before slipping inside. The place was a mess, and the owner himself looked a mess also. Definitely not someone who was a high class limousine driver!!

Barry dejectedly sat down in his only chair in front of the television and slumped.
“So I guess my secrets out then...I’m the man who busts people out of jail!”
“Mr Norman!”
“The name’s Barry!”
Mary put up her hands in apology. “Barry. You can’t tell me that you knew these two people that you drove away.”
The elderly man looked up to Mary with a face of disgust. “NO...I was made to do it.”
As Barry began to speak, the young reporter flipped out her notebook, which was met with instant resistance from the limousine driver.
“Ah ah,” he said, shaking a finger. “I ain’t talking to you if you’re collecting evidence...Infact, why am I talking to you at all!?”
“Because BARRY, I am the only friend you have right now with the situation you are in!”
Barry’s head fell into his hands, and he began to cry, much to the surprise of Mary. She clenched her teeth with regret at her outburst. “Ooooooh I’m sorry!”
“No you’re right,” replied Barry, with his head still slumped forward. “I’m in for it now. If I don’t go to the police, they’ll eventually catch me and assume I did it by choice. If I go to the police, the man is going to come back for me.”

This took Mary completely off guard. The next line of questioning was going to run along the lines of whether Audrey Meadows had been the one behind all this. Just to silence the ongoing nagging thought that she was in league with these robbers somehow.
“So it was a man who is behind all this?”
Barry raised his head, eyes red with tears, and nodded.
“Ok, tell me everything,” As she literally threw her notepad across the room and leaned forward to
rest her chin on her knuckle.
“His name was Montgomery Weasley.”
“Yes, you’re boss told me. Obviously a fake.”
“Well it was a call out to the metropolitan opera theatre. I pulled up near the main door and waited outside my car as the crowds of people drifted by. I was waiting for a long time, and was about to go, when suddenly I felt something stick into the bottom of my back. I was about to turn around when I heard a voice close to my ear say ‘don’t move, don’t speak, just listen up squire. You have a gun pointed in your back and I am not afraid to use it.’ He had a very British accent.”
“Did nobody else see this?” quizzed Mary.
“I guess not. He was stood so close to me, you wouldn’t have been able to see the gun. In all fairness, I never saw it. But I didn’t want to find out what was poking me.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Anyway he continued speaking. ‘The only thing I want you to do is do what you do best...DRIVE. Drive where I tell you. Park where I tell you. Got it squire?’...So I did. He told me to drive to the jail and wait outside.”
“Didn’t you think to drive off at that point?”
“The thought did cross my mind, but as he got out he said ‘thank you for your excellent service so far this evening Mr BARRY NORMAN OF 125 WEST 76TH STREET, APARTMENT 5A.’...He knew my name and where I lived!”
“Wow, this man must have done his research on you.”
“You’re telling me!!”
“And then?”
“And then he went inside and only a few minutes the door opened in the back and I heard some other people climb in. Sounded like 2 guys. Irish I would have guessed.”
Mary nodded. “The two robbers that tried to rob the metropolitan museum...What did they all talk about?”
“I couldn’t hear because the window to the passenger booth was closed. It was all muffled.”
“Damn it! And you never saw this man’s face?”
He shook his head. “No...All I heard was a name.”
Mary’s eyes widened with joy. “You are kidding me!!”
Barry shook his head very reluctantly.
“Barry please, this is going to blow my investigation wide open!”
“You don’t understand. William said that he’s going to come check on me.”
“William!?”
Barry sunk his head into his hands again.
“William...William...Wait a minute....You said he had a British accent....William Crocket!?”
Barry went to answer but his mouth froze in hesitation.
“OH...MY...GOSH.” Shouted Mary as she stood up out of her seat and began to walk around the apartment. “A major shareholder in Goldstein Arts!? What business does he have with these guys!?” But then the young woman delved into her brain. “That’s it, it’s like I always said. The small guys do the actually robbing, and the big guys are the ones who fund it all and reap the rewards! William Crocket is one of the big guys who indirectly steals valuable paintings. So what could he want with Jimmy and Shaun now?”