The glasses were dark and horn rimmed, large enough to cover the carefully applied blush on the cheekbones The hair was styled and sprayed to a crisp matching the clipped tones of the definition of haughty.

"Mr. Cord only sees clients by appointment."

"That's nice because I'm not a client so seeing him should be no problem, right?"

"Mr. Cord only sees clients." The gold pen bridged the fingers of both hands in front of the cool stare.

"Just tell Mr. Cord that I also represent Bennett Smyth-Frye."

Now the blush was more visible but the lips disappeared as she left her desk and entered the office behind. A moment later she reappeared and managed to indicate I was to go in without so much as a muscle twitch.

"Mr. Hart? I wasn't aware that Bennett had other representation." James was short, well shorter than me, groomed for GQ and disinclined to shake my hand or ask me to sit.

"Not so much representation as preservation." My smile was evil.

"I don't understand."

"Why don't you have a seat and I'll explain."

A pause, a stutter step and then James slid into the comfort of his high back chair. I sat comfortably across from him.

"I'm working with Bennett, that sounded so much cooler, on the case of his wife's missing necklace."

James glanced at my card again, reading it for the first time. "A private detective?"

"Yup."

"But- I don't- why do you wish to speak with me?"

I gave him my Pierce Brosnan gaze and waited for the penny to drop. It didn't. Okay the gaze needed work.

"James, please. Felicia has filled me in on all the details." James became the incredible shrinking man. "Have you managed to get the insurance company to sign off?"

"Listen, Mr. Hart, I don't think you understand the situation here. I know how you think it might look but- but . . ." My Brosnan stare finally kicked in.

"James, trading favours for the opportunity to hump your client's wife at will is a bit outside the ethics of your profession, no?"

"You're wrong! That's not the reason . . . the real reason." He passed a hand over his face. "Both Deborah and Felicia have- are-"

"Pot heads."

"No! There is an addiction problem that began when Rodney Semple began seeing Felicia."

"Are you telling me Rodney got the family hooked?"

James put his head down on his forearms and moaned. When he looked up again he seemed to have aged.

"Mr Hart- if Bennett finds out about- about this there will be hell to pay."

"Gee, I can't imagine why."

"Being glib is not helping. Bennett is a vindictive man and in business even more so."

"You mean he might can you as his attorney."

"Not might, Mr. Hart, will . . . and with a vengeance." James held out his hands in supplication. "It won't end with me either."

"Look, Mr. Cord I have no axe to grind with you, just tell me the whole story and we'll play it by ear from there. It's that or I keep digging on my own and report what I find to my client."

The look was heart rending and I didn't care.

********

Verna Scott carried her coffee to my booth and sat with a sigh.

"Tough day?"

"Long." She turned her cup slowly on its saucer.

"Can I buy you some dinner, I know Harry pretty well?"

"Very funny, Hart." She riddled me with those eyes. "I ate in the kitchen a little while ago."

"So if you're tired I guess dancing is out. What would you like to do?"

"Crawl into bed."

"Hmm, let me check my calendar. I can set aside a couple of days-" She laughed and I knew I'd left the door open.

"I've heard about your slow starts."

"Ouch. May I at least walk you home?"

Verna lived four blocks from the diner and up two flights of stairs in an old renovated factory building. She had an entire floor, most of it empty. Without asking I followed her inside and made the long trek to the furnished corner she called home.

"You should subdivide this place and rent it out."

"I like the barren waste.' She kicked off her shoes, grabbed a wine bottle and a couple of glasses and curled up on the large sofa cum bed under the steel framed windows.

"At least some drapes or something wouldn't hurt." I said, crawling over beside her.

"Afraid the moon will peek at you, Hart? You're thirty feet above the street."

I accepted a glass of wine and worked my shoes off with my feet, letting them fall to the floor. We clinked glasses, and said cheers, both sipping together.

"How's the case coming?"

I looked at her over my glass.

"You know I'm working a case because . . .?"

"That archaic bag. You carry it only when you are working."

"It was a gift!"

"When, grade eight? Geez, Hart people don't carry briefcases like that anymore."

"And professionals don't shuck hiking back packs on the office floor of clients."

Verna laughed. "From what I've seen of your clients they don't have offices in the literal sense of the term."

I couldn't argue when washrooms, alleys, idling cars and seedy hotels were places where most of my business was conducted. But this time I could bring her teasing to a screeching halt.

"Ever heard of Smythe-Frye and Associates?"

"Hard not to in this town. Why?"

I told her about the case and the retainer, enjoying every second of those widening eyes and dropping jaw.

"Get out!"

"I knew I shouldn't have told you. Now you won't want me for my body any more, just my money."

She swallowed her wine and refilled the glass. "Are you saying Felicia Smythe-Frye is a druggie?

"I did but that was in confidence, Verna. You can't tell a soul."

"Hart, give me some credit." The look was long suffering.

"See, I knew you just wanted my money."

********

Rodney blanched when he saw me enter the dining room and head straight for his table.

"Well, if it isn't the lovebirds out for a nice meal discussing their uncertain futures." I pulled a chair from another table and sat.

"How did you know we were here?" Rodney huffed.

"I'm a detective, Rod, remember?" I caught the twitch of Felicia's mouth and faced her. "And how are you today, Felicia. FlexLife making you all that you can be?"

"What do want, Hart?" Rodney again.

"Where's the necklace?"

"I have no id-"

"Don't be an ass, Rod. He knows."

I smiled at her. "I do. And now I want to know where the necklace is."

A waiter appeared and asked if was joining the couple for dinner. I ordered a drink and told him I hadn't decided.

"Look, I'm not in this to crusade or point fingers. You give me the necklace, I'll return it to Felicia's father and you can keep your secrets to yourselves."

"And tell him what?" Rodney snapped petulantly.

"That his presumed future son-in-law doesn't like gift horses."

"I don't like your attitude that's for sure."

"Rod," Felicia touched his arm, "he's offering us a way out of trouble with my father."

My drink arrived and I shook my head at the waiter, earning an eye roll. Rod gulped the last of his down and held up his glass. Felicia shook her head. The whole exchange mimed satisfactorily.

"We- I can't get it."

Felicia stared at him in alarm. "What do mean? You said you were holding it-"

"You had to give it up didn't you?" I interrupted. No sign of the money meant the necklace had a new owner.

"James couldn't move fast enough with the insurance." Felicia's face went white and she huddled down into herself. "I tried to reason . . ." Rod looked ill as well.

"Your supplier wouldn't wait. Does he or she work out of FlexLife?"

"Look, Hart, it's complicated."

"Only because you make it that way."

Rodney's drink came and the waiter waited again. We all shook our heads and he left; the physical exemplar of despondency.

"Rodney if Mr. Hart can help then let him. For God's sake." Rodney drank. I waited.

"His name is Luther."

"First. Last?"

"Luther Sloan."

"I'm not a dentist, Rod. Just give it up all at once okay."

Painfully and with an imploring look at Felicia, "He's Deborah's supplier." She closed her eyes and looked away.

"So how are you involved?"

"He- I- I bought some product from him too . . . Deborah introduced us."

A slightly different version than the one I got from James.

Felicia gathered up her purse and stood. "I've had enough of this. You do what you have to do, Mr. Hart. Don't follow me, Rodney." She left slowly and then at a quicker trot through the dining room and out to the street.

"Will the lady not be dining today?" The waiter half sighed, looking down his nose.

"No. Just bring the bill." I stared at Rodney wondering if what he was telling me was the truth. "Are you telling me the truth . . . the whole truth?" If he answers, nothing but, I'll smack him.

"It's true. Deborah was a user for some time and was getting into debt. She introduced me hoping it might give her some currency with Luther. Later she- I brought in Felicia but all Luther did was increase his sales and raise her debt."

"Hence the necklace." How could such educated people be so stupid?

"Yes. Using it as collateral until we raised the money was Deborah's idea. We worked out a scheme where James Cord would get us the insurance money to 'buy' it back from the pretend thief."

I saw it all now and it was messy- clever but messy. I left Rodney to pay the bill and hustled back to my office; I needed quiet and comfort to figure out my next move. I wondered if Verna was free.