The Smythe-Frye brownstone was a three storey, up-stoop in the Upper East Side on a street lined with huge London Planetrees that provided shade all day long. I climbed the steps and leaned on a copper bell press the size of a pocket book.

"Sir?" The door opened half way and a petite face under a starched white cap gave me a quizzical look.

Whoah! Uniformed maid yet! "Hi, my name is Richard Hart. I wonder if I might speak with Mrs. Smythe-Frye or her daughter."

"Your business, sir?

"With them . . . private." I released my charm smile. The door closed.

Unaccustomed to servant rebuffs I stood staring at the door, considering my next move when it reopened.

"You said you have private business with our family?"

Now I consider myself a pretty worldly guy, not much shocks me or catches me off guard but never, I mean never have I had a door answered by such a beautiful, naked woman!

"Uuh- bdah, bdah . . ."

"For heaven's sake, Felicia put something on before answering the door." The austere looking woman wearing a yoga suit shoved the younger woman aside and stared at me. "Can I help you?"

For a second I didn't think anyone could but I managed to rip my eyes off the retreating figure and form what was hopefully a smile.

A brief explanation at the door led to my eagerly welcomed invitation to enter. I followed the woman, who introduced herself as Deborah Smythe-Frye, my head swivelling from side to side as we traversed a long hall and wound up in an atrium filled with wicker, wrought iron and hanging baskets of flowers.

The young woman was there, stretched out on a padded floral lounge, clothed in an opaque dressing gown. My disappointment must have appeared in neon on my face as she smirked when I stared.

"Mr. Hart is here to discuss my necklace." Her voice quavered.

"Oh, did you find it?" The voice was huskier than I imagined but then along with the things I was imagining who cared.

"Ah, no. I have just begun my investigation." I forced my attention to the wife. "Perhaps you could fill me in, Mrs. Smythe-Frye?"

"Deborah will do, Smythe-Frye is quite a mouthful. I uh- last wore the necklace to a charity evening for the Chandler Library." She sat back, crossing her legs and twisting her fingers. "So many of the institutions we hold precious are falling on hard times because of technology."

I thought her necklace alone could probably save a number of them. "And then what, it goes back in your safe?"

"Bennett told you about that?" Her tone hardened.

"I'm investigating the reason that it's missing, it is an important fact." My shrug was automatic.

"Yes. It stays there at all times when not being worn." She shot a glance at her daughter.

"And so the next event was when you missed it?"

"Yes it was a week later we were hosting a fund raiser here for Councilman Arthur Considine . . . the coming election."

"You went ahead without it, you didn't call the police?"

"Of course, Mr. Hart. One doesn't shirk duty even when experiencing personal inconveniences."

Inconvenience! A million dollar necklace mysteriously disappears and it's an inconvenience! My five thousand dollar retainer must have been milk money.

"But you never did call the police?"

"No- aah, Bennett didn't want the publicity that would have followed without a doubt."

"Who all knows the combination to your safe?"

"Just the immediate family."

"And do you ever wear your mother's necklace, Miss?" I restrained a leer toward the sprawled daughter.

"Felicia has her own jewellery, Mr. Hart."

I saw that for myself. "So that's a no. Just the family has access then?"

"Are you accusing a member of this family?"

"I'm not accusing anyone, I'm just trying to get some facts."

Deborah stood and posed by the window. "The staff. Our attorney, James Cord and of course the installers." She turned and tilted her head. "We've only had it for a little over a year. Bennett wanted it before he gave me the necklace."

"Understandable." I stood, not wanting to sit any longer fighting the urges to look at the daughter. "If I could get the name of the company that installed the safe I won't take up any more of your time. Is there chance I might speak to the staff while I'm here?"

"Helen is busy. Royston is downtown with the car."

Another no. 'Okay later then. The name?"

"Certainly. Felicia, see Mr. Hart to the door and give him the name he asked for."

"Thank you for your co-operation, Deborah."

"Mrs. Smythe-Frye." Her hand wagged behind her as she faced the window.

"And is your name off limits again?" I asked as the daughter scribbled the information on a page from a gold covered date book and handed it to me, grinning. "Uh- one more thing if I may. Your boyfriend's name? I imagine he was also privy to the existence of the safe."

The grin morphed into a sly look and a hand came up to smooth the lapel of my jacket, followed by the husky voice.

"Rodney Semple. I call him Rod . . ."

I'll bet you do. "Address?"

She took the paper back and added Rod's name and address. I tucked it in my pocket, took a last devouring look, thanked her and let myself out. It was a dream. Must have been a dream. I looked back once as I climbed into my car and Felicia was watching from the door-side window. Maybe it was real.

********

WALT'S VAULTS - Combination Safety & Security

The sign looked quite professional on the brass plaque in spite of the name. The business was housed in a small, free standing commercial building on a street of accountants and dentists. Apropos I thought.

Walt was a tall, grizzled looking black man with twinkling eyes and a ready smile. He stood from his desk to greet me and with a hand on my back led me to a side sofa where we both sat in relaxed comfort.

"Now, what can Walt do for, Mr. Hart?"

The third person made it sound like he wouldn't want to help if he didn't like the sound of it.

"I'm investigating a missing item from one of your clients; a piece of jewellery kept in a bedroom safe."

The smile drifted off and the twinkle left the eyes. "Are you an insurance investigator?"

"No. no. I'm a P.I. . . ." I dug out a card and handed it to him. "You installed the safe and I wondered if you were advised of who might know the combination - you know in case of emergency or whatever . . ."

"Walt has a policy that all installations have a backup combination retained here under lock and key."

"Not in one of Walt's safes?" The third person was an irritant.

"Do you have a specific question . . ." he checked my card, "Mr. Hart?"

I sat up, preparing to jump up if necessary. "Don't take this the wrong way but are your bedroom wall safes difficult to break into?"

"Not for a professional yegg."

Yegg! How old was Walt? "So the owner thinking he was secure might find the yolk on him." We both stood together and I realized my disadvantage immediately.

"Just kidding. Sorry." I held out my hand to shake and surprisingly he took it.

'Walt's Vaults have programmable combinations. Each one can have up to three personal combinations. Makes it a bit vulnerable to pros but customers get all jiggy with it."

"Really! So is there a way to tell who opens it at any given time?"

"Only the last time. There's a key code that's overridden by the next person getting into the safe."

"Thanks very much for your time and information." I said as he walked me to the door.

"You're welcome son. I'll let Walt know what happened."

I stood on the sidewalk, frowning. He'll let Walt know? It wasn't third person! I expelled a disgusted breath and headed for my car.

********

My stomach alerted me to lunch time and I hit my favourite restaurant where my favourite waitress worked and they served my favourite spicy Thai shrimp. I would organize what I had learned and plan the rest of the afternoon. My favourite booth was free and I slid in, tossing my jacket on the empty side and spreading out my notes.

'You are too early for lunch, Rick. Another twenty minutes before Harry starts the lunch menu." A coaster and a glass of water appeared along with a set of cutlery wrapped in a serviette.

"Verna! My favourite-"

"Twenty minutes, Rick."

"Okay . . . how about a half pint of Creemore and some Tostitos while I suffer the wait?"

"I'll tell Harry you're here." She walked away and I followed her progress until she went into the kitchen. Verna's mother was Japanese and her father Caucasian and she had the most fantastic eyes I had ever seen. Black as coal but a mysterious green tint was visible at times - one of those times was when we sat on the roof of her apartment with a bottle of sake and a bag of macaroons - heaven.

I shook off the memory and focused on what little I had so far on the necklace. The first thing that occurred to me was I hadn't asked if Felicia's jewellery was also in the safe although she did have access as immediate family. I conceded, without actually knowing, that they each had their own combination; too cool a feature not to take advantage.

Walt was ruled out. It was ludicrous to think he or anyone in his company would moonlight as a yegg as- as that guy had said. But the master backup he held meant there were four combinations to the safe. James Cord, the family attorney. Would Bennett let him have access? Doubtful.

Verna returned with a plate of Tostitos and some dip. "Harry put a rush on for me did he?"

She just shook her head and grinned.

"I can pay today. Cash on the barrel head."

"Fifteen minutes, Rick." She went back to the counter and the cash register.

The beer cooled the burn off my tongue from the dip and I nibbled more carefully, staring out the window onto the busy street.

Nothing on the police sheets. Nothing on the street, including the installation company. So, private collection or somebody waiting patiently until the heat goes down. Somehow I didn't think so. I began to wonder if Bennett suspected his wife or daughter and that was the reason for the lid on publicity and the photographs. Why would they take it? Debts? Blackmail?

My Thai Shrimp arrived . . . a slightly larger portion than usual.