Free Fleeced: A Regan Reilly Mystery by Carol Higgins Clark Page A

it’s low budget,” Thomas said in a tiny voice. “We were desperate for new sources of revenue, but this isn’t so good for the club.”
    Regan stood. “I’m going down to the 13th Precinct. I’ll give them your regards.” As she walked out, Regan wondered when the next flight to London was leaving.

19

    Over at the crime convention, Nora Regan Reilly was very pleased with the way things were going. The only disappointment was that Regan couldn’t be there. So many people were asking for her.
    “She was called on to a case,” Nora kept saying.
    “Since last night?”
    “Yes, but she’s still in town. She’s going to try to drop by for one of the seminars. Or maybe even the cocktail party later this afternoon.”
    Nora made a quick inspection of the buffet the hotel had put out for lunch. It looked good. Steaming trays of pasta, chicken, and vegetables were ready for consumption. Nora had slipped out of the last seminar just before it ended to make sure everything was set.
    It had been a most interesting seminar. An FBI agent had given a lecture and a slide show on con artists. How they manage to infiltrate people’s lives, gain their confidence, and rip them off. Some of them were small-time crooks, whereas others could remove millions from their rightful owners.
    “You’ll find them everywhere,” he had said. “They’re like vultures that prey on everyone from lottery winners, to the elderly, to the lonely, to the ambitious, and to the vulnerable. Many people who get ripped off are then too embarrassed to report it. They think they should have been smarter. Big Hollywood celebrities get duped by investment advisers. People with less money get involved in pyramid schemes that collapse around them. It’s bad out there, and these scam artists, when cornered, can be very dangerous. They lash out…”
    The slide show displayed grainy photos of just a few of these people in action.
    Yes, Regan would have loved this, Nora thought. What a shame.
    “Mrs. Reilly?”
    Nora turned away from the food table and smiled. “Yes?”
    A rather imposing, breathless woman, with her hair swept up in a bun and a notebook in her hand, dropped her purse on the floor. “I’m Mary Ruffner, a reporter with the
New York
World.
I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about the conference.”
    “Of course.” Nora led her to a table.
    “Everything happens at once. My editor wants me to run over to Gramercy Park to the Settlers’ Club. Some guy who just got sprung from jail is filming a movie there, and the rumor is that someone was murdered in the club last night.” Mary laughed mirthlessly. “As long as he doesn’t expect me to spend the night there. I write about arts and entertainment.”
    Nora’s stomach took a dive as her smile faded.
    “Anything wrong, Mrs. Reilly?”
    “No,” Nora said.
    “Your daughter’s here too, isn’t she?”
    “She’s in town.”
    “I know that. Her picture was in our paper this morning.”
    Now it was Nora’s turn to laugh mirthlessly.
    “Is she at the convention?” Mary Ruffner continued.
    “Actually, she’s working,” Nora said.
    “On a case?”
    “Well, yes, she’s working in New York, but I’m not at liberty to say on what.”
    “I hope I get to interview her before the weekend’s over,” Mary said as she pulled the cap off her pen with her teeth.
    Something tells me you will, Nora thought. For better or worse, something tells me you will.

20

    Lydia sat propped up on one of her love seats, cordless phone in hand, calling all her lovelorn pups who had been present the night before. There had been nineteen of them. Not bad, she decided. She’d been having three parties a week since Valentine’s Day, and as an introductory offer, her “clients” had only had to pay twenty-five dollars a shot if they’d bought a package of four.
    She had to admit she felt like she was stealing from some of them. Like the man who wore sandals with his suit and seemed