CHAPTER TWELVE

SIDEWALK SALE

            Today, the famed jeweler the House of Freemani is regarded for elegant design and a very high level of service and discretion for their famous clientele. Brothers Hugo and Bobby run the store and entertain the New Hollywood or whatever it's called this week. The real money is made by their sister Cosima, a woman of impeccable taste who very quietly services the client who wants to remain quiet.

            The empire began with jeweler's paste and paint. Massey Freimanel was a prop man for Adolph Zukor at the Famous Players Studio on the 1913 production of The Prisoner of Zenda. The silent epic needed a necklace fit for a queen and Massey discovered a hidden talent for jewelry design without any jewels. Soon others discovered his skill. One was actor pal Paul DeWolfe who had very high ambitions. Massey fabricated high end merchandise that DeWolfe, posing as impoverished royalty, sold in Europe to Midwestern American tourists. At the end of the scam, DeWolfe served sixteen months in a Marseilles jail. Massey Freimanel became Marcel Freemani. The House of Freemani became the Jewelers to the Stars and ex-con Paul DeWolfe became Pablo DeLobo who became sales manager and silent partner. Tragically, DeLobo died in 1928 when his girlfriend was yanking his chain, causing DeLobo to accidentally yank the wheel of his speeding Duesenberg off the road above Benedict Canyon.

            "C'mon. C'mon in Muk," greeted Bobby Freemani as the crew entered the grand foyer of the jewelry store. Bobby was talking to Muk but he was ogling Blu in her Honey Bare-Sugar Fox get-up.

            The emporium was handsome. Cosima had restored many of the original fixtures from her grandfather's first store and added subtle contemporary accents. Various shades of pearl with the lightest highlights of blue made one want to whip out a credit card and charge up a hundred grand for a Rolex Submariner whether they could afford it or not.

            Bobby led the trio into a large private showroom centered with a black glass table.

            "Sit. Sit, my friends," offered Hugo as he entered, "Can I get you anything?"

            "No, no, thank you," replied Muk as they sat. Muk used subtle hand signals and his eyeballs to point out all of the security cameras to Pedro. "We're good... But I wish we were better. We've come up empty-handed."

"Yeesh," replied Bobby, "The BeeDee bitch got a lotta our lettuce."

"I'm not so sure." Out of the corner of his eye, Muk saw a small dim red button light up on the conference call console that centered the table.

"I dated her! I know her nutty tricks," qualified Bobby.

"Oh. Ali is troubled and troublesome," Muk said lightly, "But, I'm not sure that makes her a jewel thief."

Bobby laughed, "Knowing her, she probably lost 'em! Gave 'em to a homeless guy!"

"That sounds more like her," chuckled Muk, "Is this the room where she returned the two bracelets?"

"Yeah," replied Hugo as he shot back on the wheels of his leather chair and opened a door in a wall of cabinets. He pulled out a rolled up grocery bag and tossed it onto the mirrored black of the table. "She returned ten million of world class stones in this. She came in with bare feet, " he chuckled. "Maybe we can get finger prints off-a the bag."

"It's all a shame."

"It's all a crock." Bobby sat back. He was exhausted by thinking about Ali BeeDee too much. He was lucky to have ever caught Ali's attention and he knew it. "You know she wrote Vaya Con Putos for me?"

Pedro looked as if he was impressed.

            "Guys, I gotta say, I have failed you."

"Muk," said Hugo graciously, "You could never fail us."

"No, I ran off half-cocked and thought I could get those stones back."

"Muk, you have done enough. More than enough."

"I did it because I really believe the sculpture belongs at your house."

"No worries. No worries."

"To the best of our knowledge and through our investigation, we don't think Ali BeeDee has the necklace and earrings in her possession."

            Bobby snorted his disbelief and splayed his hands. Muk thought his reaction was oddly over-played.

            "We have been thorough. Pedro?"

            Pedro pulled a leather reporters notebook from his breast pocket and flipped the cover. "Ali BeeDee, also known as June Cleaver, has no safety deposit boxes in any major institution, that we know of. Her bank accounts are modest. She has no savings. There have been no new deposits or irregular or unusual activity. This is also true for the four people with whom she communicates most often."

            "Who is this chink? Charlie Chan?" laughed Bobby as he slapped the table.

Hugo looked at the ceiling with embarrassment.

"We have not had much time, but we have surveilled phones and Internet to find nothing out of the ordinary, nor anyone with excessive contact or communication around the time of the alleged theft. The missing items are not located at her home or in her car or her storage facility. In an interview, the suspect has denied the theft."

"What's-- How you guys, you freakin', slacker, artists, doin' all this?" asked Bobby suspiciously.

Pedro enunciated clearly, "If we told you, we would have to kill you." The wide smile on his face showed teeth. He looked back over his notes to focus. "At this time, over a very short investigation, we have come to the opinion that Ms. BeeDee does not have the purloined jewelry. To be conclusive, we recommend expanding an investigation of her known associates and extending surveillance over a longer period of time." He turned pointedly to Bobby and said with polite ferocity, "She cou'-be sitting on da shit, waiting for da heat ta blow ov-er." Muk rarely heard the Brooklyn street in Pedro's voice; he hid it well. Pedro had a hard past that Muk didn't know much about.

"Ah! That Ali!" said Hugo, shaking his head as if the missing jewelry were a prank, "She's something! Isn't she? What do we do?!" He was asking rhetorically not emphatically.

Muk cocked his head, "Attorneys. She said some lawyers were after her." Hugo sat up. Bobby leaned back. "Are you guys suing her or...?"

"Ah, we might. We could. The insurance companies, our loss... We got Bulgari up our ass... It's all up in the air," answered Hugo, "I don't know what we'll do."

"We dunno what we're gonna do." Bobby shook his head and mumbled, "That dumb bitch."

Muk said, "I wish we had better news for you." He noticed that the red light on the phone console had gone off.

"It's like when we were sleeping together," Bobby explained, "Nuts all the time. Crazy. Ali Crazy. Girls gone wild."

Pedro asked innocently, "Were you ever in those "Girls Gone Wild" videos?"

"Nah," confided Bobby, "But Francis and I are still pals. His shtick hasn't aged well."

Muk stepped in, "Listen, we messed up. I thought for sure I was going to waltz in here with that necklace and those earrings and proudly toss 'em on this table. Instead, I've got my tail between my legs. I brought a peace offering..."

Blu stood and picked up the wrapped parcel. She untied the twine and tore away the brown paper to reveal a handsome abstract painting of acrylic and charcoal.

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All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

© Gordy Grundy, All Rights Reserved

www.Gordy Grundy.com

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