THE PHANTOM OF THE WALDORF (part 3)

Twenty years ago, she would have been beautiful. However, having all that you want can ruin a person. It makes a man lazy. It can make a woman bitter. And Achille knew that bitter is never lovely.

“Please allow me to introduce Mr. Achille Poirot,” Creel said to Mrs. Edmonds’ back.

She turned and placed a long, black cigarette holder in her mouth. She inhaled deeply and made a cherry red “O” with her mouth and blew. The smoke drifted towards Achille but curved at the last minute and hit Creel square in the face. The manager scrunched his face and stifled a sneeze.

“Enchante’” Achille nodded his head an inch.

“Poirot,” she said. “I’ve heard of that name.”

Achille smiled.

“No doubt, you’ve heard of my famous brother, Hercule,” he said.

“Yes, that’s the one,” she waved her cigarette holder at him. “Funny little bald man with a queer walk.”

“Well, he inherited the brains and I the looks,” Achille said.

Edmonds took another drag on her cigarette and looked down her nose at him.

“Right,” she said as she exhaled.

“I’ve taken the liberty of asking Mr. Poirot to assist us with your missing jewel,” Creel stepped forward.

“Are you a detective like your brother?” she asked.

Achille gestured towards a sofa and chairs by the fireplace.

“May we sit down?” he asked.

She cinched the kimono tighter and floated over to the sofa. Tucking her legs beneath her, she leaned back against a large green pillow. The two men glanced at each other and took chairs across from the sofa.

“To answer your query,” Achille continued. “No, I’m not a professional detective.”

Creel leaned forward.

“However,” he interjected. “Mr. Poirot has been instrumental in helping the police solve several crimes since he’s made his home with us.”

“Have there been several crimes here at the Waldorf?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Creel waved his hands.

“No, no, no,” he stammered. “Mr. Poirot has solved many crimes outside of this hotel.”

“Well, there was the case of the young girl who was found dead at the hotel’s loading dock,” Achille said.

Creel gripped the chair’s arm. It gave a dull creak.

“She was murdered somewhere else and left there by a madman,” Creel said.

Edmonds leaned forward and picked up a gold cigarette case from the table. She removed the expired butt and replaced it with a fresh one. Achille noticed a maker’s mark on the slender white cigarette. It came from an exclusive tobacconist in London.

“So, you have madmen prowling about the grounds?” she smirked.

Creel’s cheeks reddened and beads of sweat formed a halo across his forehead.

“Madam, we are simply here to assist you in recovering your jewel,” Achille said. “Monsieur Creel is correct in stating that the Waldorf Astoria is not only the best hotel in New York City, it’s also the safest.”

“And yet,” she replied. “I’m missing a very large ruby.”

Achille tented his fingers.

“There’s nothing in this world that is flawless,” he said. “I will repair the hotel’s reputation and find your jewel.”

Edmonds narrowed her eyes and lit her cigarette.

“But first,” Achille continued. “You must leave.”

Creel hiccuped and dabbed his forehead with an already damp handkerchief. Mrs. Edmonds stopped in mid-inhale of her cigarette and coughed.

“What did you say?” she stood up.

“Yes, what?” Creel jumped up as well.

Achille sat and opened his hands, palm up.

“I must have complete, uninterrupted access to this suite to conduct a thorough investigation,” he said.

“And where am I to go?” she waved her cigarette around like a wand.

Achille stood and walked to the front door.

“Monsieur Creel will escort you to my apartment in the other tower here,” he said. “My valet will see to your every need.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it and looked from Achille to Creel.

“Good lord Achille,” Creel said. “At least let Mrs. Edmonds get properly dressed.”

Achille bowed his head.

“Of course,” he said. “Please replace the fine Japanese silk with something more appropriate for the hallways.”

Within minutes, Creel was leading Mrs. Edmonds out of the suite. She passed Achille without glancing back.

“You’d better know what you’re doing,” Creel whispered as he passed Achille.

Achille closed the door behind them and turned to face the room.

“I know that you’re here mon ami,” he said. “It’s time for you to come out and play.”

THE PHANTOM OF THE WALDORF (part 2)

“What took you so long?” Creel asked.

He dabbed his high forehead with an already damp handkerchief and glanced around the hotel lobby. He saw at least two reporters sitting across from each other. They both tried to act like they were reading a paper and paying attention to the comings and goings of the busy hotel. However, their occasional scribbles on discretely tucked away notepads betrayed their intent.

“Well,” Achille smiled, “Good morning to you as well.”

Creel’s right eye twitched. It always did when he was nervous. Today, it appeared to Achille that the poor hotel manager attempted to send out his stress via Morse Code with that eye.

“I’m sorry Mr. Poirot,” Creel said. “We’ve never had a theft at the Waldorf Astoria under my watch. If you don’t nip it in the bud and find the thief, both the hotel’s and my reputation will be in tatters.”

Achille took Creel by the elbow and led him to the elevator.

“Take me to the room and we shall investigate without delay,” he said.

Creel’s shoulders visibly relaxed and the eye twitch slowed. As the polished metal doors of the elevator opened, Achille led the way and Creel followed like a puppy. The operator smiled and tipped his hat.

“Where to Mr. Poirot?” he asked.

Each word was punctuated by his chewing on a large stick of gum.

“The fifth floor,” Creel frowned and held out his hand.

Plucking the wrapper out of his pocket, the young man spit his gum into it and handing the wad to Creel. The manager held it in his palms like a bug and tipped it into the ashcan in the corner.

“Sorry Mr. Creel,” the operator mumbled. “It won’t happen again.”

Creel opened his mouth to reply and a bell dinged.

“Ah, we’ve arrived,” Achille said and walked into the hall.

With a quick disapproving glance at the operator, Creel followed.

“Tell me then what you know,” Achille gestured for the manager to lead the way.

Creel folded his arms and walked down the carpeted hall. Aside from a maid dusting a light fixture, they were alone.

“Mrs. Edmonds, wife of Henry Edmunds the financier, arrived yesterday afternoon,” Creel said. “She is staying with us for the weekend until she’ll catch a steamer on Monday to meet her husband in London.”

Creel paused as a door opened and a young couple burst out of their room. They both blushed as they saw the two men. The woman giggled and the man smiled as they hurried past.

“Newlyweds,” Achille smiled.

Creel cleared his throat.

“Yes,” he continued. “Although we have a top rated hotel safe, Mrs. Edmonds insisted that all of her jewelry be stored in her room. Of course, I readily agreed since the Waldorf is the safest hotel in all of New York.”

“And yet,” Achille interrupted. “Sometime during the night, her valuables went missing.”

“A valuable,” Creel corrected. “A rather large ruby necklace was missing from her valise this morning.”

Creel shook his head.

“Actually,” he corrected himself. “The whole necklace was not missing, only the 5 carat ruby stone.”

Achille stopped and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Creel’s eye began to twitch again. “The diamond studded necklace was on the floor. Upon closer inspection , I could see that…”

He hesitated.

“Yes?” Achille prompted.

“I may be mistaken,” Creel continued. “However, it appeared that the silver setting had been chewed.”

“Chewed?” Achille asked. “The young man this morning said something about a ghost. Do spirits have teeth?”

Creel pulled out his handkerchief again.

“There’s no ghost,” he said. “It’s a silly rumor that’s circulating among the staff.”

“What would cause such a rumor?” Achille asked.

“Well,” Creel hesitated and the twitch increased. “Guests reported hearing a muffled howl during the night and scratching along the hallway.”

The manager stopped at the end of the hall.

“Please don’t mention anything about a ghost to Mrs. Edmonds,” he said as he knocked on the door.

Achille smiled.

“I deal only with the corporeal,” he said. “The spirits that I pursue are in beautiful glass bottles.”

Both men looked up as they heard a slight scratching in a vent above them. The suite door opened and they were greeted by a large bleach blond woman in a bright blue kimono.

“It’s about damn time,” she said and walked back into the room in a trail of cigarette smoke.