Free Stealing the Countess by David Housewright

ways. He was either going to leave me alone, or he was going to make it his mission in life to mess me up.
    Philip Speegle was right, I decided—we’re our own worst enemies.

 
    FIVE
    I found four couples in the parlor, along with Connor Rasmussen, when I returned to the Queen Anne. They were drinking wine from long-stem glasses made of crystal that matched the decanters on the sideboard. Connor called to me.
    â€œEveryone,” he said, “here’s McKenzie, another of our guests.”
    Connor beckoned me into the parlor, poured me a glass of wine, and proceeded to introduce the others. One couple was in their sixties, another in their fifties. The other two were in their early twenties and seemed to know one another.
    â€œWhat do you do, Mr. McKenzie?” asked the fifty-something woman, whose name I had already forgotten.
    I’ve never liked the question because I don’t have a ready reply. How should I answer? Unlicensed private investigator? Self-employed do-gooder? Easily bored jazz-loving baseball fan? Rich dick?
    â€œI suppose you could call me a freelance troubleshooter,” I said.
    â€œMr. McKenzie is here to help catch the thieves who stole the Stradivarius violin,” Connor said.
    The remark surprised the hell out of me; I had thought the man was trying to downplay any news of the theft.
    â€œThat is so exciting,” said one of the younger women. “Chasing a cat burglar. I can imagine him climbing through a bedroom window, the burglar I mean, all dressed in black, and stealing a famous diamond while we sleep. It gives me shivers.”
    Her boyfriend grinned as if he also wanted to give her shivers; the fifty-something woman looked like she wanted to slap her upside the head.
    â€œI don’t think there’s anything exciting about a robbery,” she said.
    â€œActually, the young lady is correct,” I said. “It was a burglary. They call it a robbery when someone steals using force or intimidation; you need to be present for that. A burglary occurs when someone gains entry to a house or business, or a garage, and steals without you being aware of it.”
    Now the woman looked like I was the one she wanted to slap. Her husband, though, began telling a story about how his daughter and son-in-law were not only robbed in their sleep, they weren’t even made aware of it until the police knocked on their door and told them. This launched the youngsters into a series of stories of their own. It seemed everyone had been a victim of a crime or knew personally someone who was; such is the world we live in. The couple in their sixties, however, didn’t speak a word. They remained planted on a love seat and held hands while they sipped their wine. Their expression suggested to me that they were waiting for a lull in the conversation so they could excuse themselves and sneak upstairs.
    Good for them, my inner voice said.
    â€œHow are you going to catch the cat burglar?” the young woman asked me.
    â€œAlice,” her boyfriend said.
    â€œI’m just asking.”
    â€œI’m going to use bait,” I said.
    â€œA woman?” Alice was acting all giggly now, as if this was the first time she had been on vacation without Mom or Dad. “She has a famous diamond and she’s going to keep it on her nightstand and when the burglar sneaks in late at night to steal it, you’re going to leap out of the closet and catch him. Or her. Maybe the cat burglar is a woman. Has anyone thought of that?”
    I glanced at the couple on the love seat. They couldn’t believe Alice had said that, either.
    â€œNo,” I said. “No diamonds. All I have is cash. And no woman. Sorry.”
    â€œYou’re going to catch him when he tries to steal the money,” Alice said.
    â€œSomething like that.”
    â€œCan I help?” Alice waved at her friends. “Can we help?”
    â€œIt might be dangerous.”
    â€œIt