Chapter Ten – Sam

Sam slipped into the restroom, and deposited his toolbox, and took off the coveralls he had pulled on over his normal clothes. Normal for Sam was worn denim jeans, a blue shirt, and his favorite leather jacket, also worn. What could he say, he liked what he liked and could never see the point in suits and ties.

But as he left the restroom and sauntered down the hallway toward Mr. Delamere’s office, he realized he was somewhat underdressed. Oh well, he had other skills that were more valuable than a designer suit.

“Can I help you?” the woman at the desk outside Mr. Delamere’s office asked.

“Hi there, Marty is expecting me.” Sam flashed her his best smile. The smile that said he belonged, even if his clothes didn’t.

“I’m sorry, you are not in Mr. Delamere’s appointment book.” He cast his eyes over said book, even though they both knew she was right. But Sam was never going to let on.

“Really! Marty is slipping.” Sam pulled out his phone and scrolled through, before turning it toward the woman who Sam supposed had Lia’s job. “See, I texted him last night to say I was in town and Marty replied to let me know he was free around eleven.”

It all sounded so plausible. “He’s not really free.”

“He’s taking his nap, good old Marty, always a creature of habit.” Sam gave the secretary a wink. “But he would rather see me than sleep. He said to just go on in when I get here.” Sam nodded his head, indicating the message on the phone. “His old PA, Lia, knows me, and never asks questions. I’m sure Marty simply forgot to tell you I was coming.”

“Well, I am under strict instructions not to disturb him at this time.” She looked unsure, and Sam felt his usual gut-wrenching feeling of uneasiness that hit him every time he put someone’s job on the line. But he had to get into Martin Delamere’s office, and this was the quickest way since he had no appointment.

“Well,” Sam said, sucking his breath in through his teeth, and looking at the closed office door behind him. “You could always go and wake him up.” He raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “Actually, that might not be a bad idea, he can vent his crabbiness on you instead of me.”

“Well. I don’t know…” Her voice trailed off as she glanced at Sam to the door behind which her sleeping boss lay. It was a good thing Lia had filled Sam in on Mr. Delamere’s regular routine.

“Listen… I’m sorry, honey, what is your name?” Sam asked.

“Angela.”

“Angela. I should have guessed, you have the air of an angel all around you.” He waved his hand and then gazed into her eyes. “And what man wouldn’t want to see an angel when he opens his eyes.” Sam got off the desk. “I’ll wait for you to wake him.”

Angela didn’t move. “Mr. Delamere is not going to want to see me.”

“He’s a grump, isn’t he?” Sam said conspiratorially.

Angela kept a diplomatic silence but didn’t disagree.

“OK, I have a solution.” He looked on Angela with kindness. “Why don’t you go and get a coffee, and I’ll let myself in? That way he can’t blame you. Not that there will be any blame. Unless I walk out of here. It is not often that Marty and I on the same continent, let alone the same building.”

“I’ll go and get some coffee. Mr. Delamere always likes a fresh cup when he wakes up.” Angela got up and scurried away.

“White, no sugar for me,” Sam called after her retreating back.

He watched for a moment, making sure there was no one else around to question him being there, then he took out his phone. He dialed Mr. Delamere’s private number and waited for the answer. It was groggy and non-too happy.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Mr. Delamere. This is Sam Spencer.”

“Who?” Martin Delamere answered grumpily. Angela was right to want to avoid waking up her boss.

“Sam Spencer. I have some information you might be interested in.” Sam kept his words deliberately vague.

“What kind of information?” Mr. Delamere said.

“About certain items of jewelry.”

There was a brief pause. Hitting Mr. Delamere during his power nap had the desired effect. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Ah, OK, in that case, sorry to have bothered you. I will tell my contact to hand the information over to the relevant authorities.” Sam hesitated, mentally counting to five. Giving Mr. Delamere a chance to react.

“Wait!” Another small pause. “What do you want?”

“A job.”

“I’m not hiring. I have enough men working for me.” Suspicion filled Mr. Delamere’s voice, and Sam took it as his time to act. He walked straight up to the office door and, without knocking, walked straight in.

“They are not doing a very good job, are they?” Sam asked, towering above Mr. Delamere who was even less impressive in the flesh than his photographs online.

“What the hell are you doing?” Mr. Delamere squared up to Sam for about five seconds before he stepped back. Looking around furtively, he headed to his desk, but Sam got there first.

“Offering you my services,” Sam said, carrying on the conversation. “Since your men have had little success in figuring out exactly what happened.”

“And you know what happened?” Mr. Delamere scoffed, but his voice showed his nerves at being faced with a man who could likely snap him in two very easily.

“Give me forty-eight hours and access to whatever I need, and I will tell you.” Sam already had his suspicions. His knowledge of human nature and his online search had confirmed the idea that his conversation with Lia had spawned last night. He also had an idea about Lia’s foreign visitors. But he wanted to get an insight into this man, and a look at the safe.

“You already know a great deal about things you shouldn’t,” Mr. Delamere sounded threatening, but his whole demeanor did not carry it off. He was a weak man. A man who could easily be manipulated.

“Let’s just say that I keep my ear to the ground. Deep underground.” Sam empathized the words, and Mr. Delamere’s eyes widened. “It’s very dark down there. Very dark.”

Mr. Delamere broke eye contact, and Sam sensed victory. “Forty-eight-hours, you say?”

“And all the access I need. If I think you are hiding something, I will draw my conclusions and make my report.”

“Your report?” Mr. Delamere asked sharply.

“You are not the only interested party,” Sam said, his eyes fixed on Mr. Delamere until the suited man turned away.

Sam wasn’t lying. He was simply bending the truth, shaping it to press the right buttons in the right order. It worked. It usually did.

“Forty-eight-hours. In that time I expect you to find both the goods and the culprit. Are we clear?” Mr. Delamere, sham CEO, was trying to reassert his authority. Authority that he never had to begin with. The sad thing was, he knew it.

“Very clear. I’ll take half of my fee now, and half on completion.” Sam held out his hand and a reluctant Mr. Delamere shook on the deal, before wiping his hand on his pressed trousers. “Now, if I could see the safe.”

“Here.” Mr. Delamere turned around and indicated a painting on the wall. It was nondescript, and out of place in an otherwise austere room. The CEO’s desk had no personal effects other than one picture of a rather pretty woman, and a man. The man was Mr. Delamere, but it was at least twenty years old, if not more. Sam wondered if the woman was still as pretty.

“And the safe was definitely locked?” Sam asked.

“I’m not a fool,” came the retort.

“And you are the only person who knew the combination.”

“Yes.”

Sam turned his head to look at Mr. Delamere. “So the safe was forced?”

“No.” His voice filled with exasperation. “It was opened using the combination.

“So you are not the only person who knows the code?” Sam asked.

“Don’t try to trip me up,” Mr. Delamere said with some vehemence, causing Sam to reassess his new employer.

Martin Delamere looked tired. As if he had not slept for a few nights. His clothes were immaculate, but the body underneath was showing signs of wear, and recent worry.

“I apologize.” Sam bowed his head slightly. “Were the jewels insured?”

“Of course,” Mr. Delamere said, far too forcefully. Liar.

“And the insurance has paid out?” Sam asked.

“No, I have so far not informed the insurance company.” Lie confirmed.

“Why not?” Sam asked.

“I am still hoping to find the thief and get her to return what is mine.” Mr. Delamere turned his back on the safe.

“Do you have a crime report number logged with the local police?” Sam probed further.

“No,” Mr. Delamere answered dismissively.

“You haven’t reported this to the police?” Sam asked, tilting his head, trying to read through the words Mr. Delamere was not saying.

“No.”

“Because you don’t want to look like a risk.” Sam nodded, wanting to give Mr. Delamere a way out. Sam had already drawn his own conclusions. The jewels in question were not bought in a jewelry store, or from a legitimate seller. If Sam had to guess, they were stolen goods, or part of some laundering operation carried out by Total Solutions. That was why it was important this was hushed up. That Lia was hushed up.

“I deal with some very important clients. If they think I have people in my employment who can steal from me, right under my nose…” His face clouded with anger. “You never told me explicitly where you got your information from.”

“No.” Sam smiled, his lips pressed together. “I did not.” Sam stepped closer to the picture and flipped it open, revealing a very sophisticated safe. “You would be better to install a biometric safe.”

“Why, so someone can cut my fingers off if they want access to it?” Mr. Delamere shuddered.

“Is anyone likely to do that for a diamond necklace and a pair of earrings?” Sam asked, watching Mr. Delamere’s reaction. “Or is there something much more valuable inside here?”

“There are certain papers that I store in there too. Private papers, and some cash.”

“Were they stolen too?” Sam asked.

“No.”

“Why?” Sam pushed harder.

“It was a threat.” Mr. Delamere looked pale. “The whole thing was a setup.”

“A setup?” Sam asked. “Why?” Did Mr. Delamere know Lia wasn’t behind this? Did he know she had been set up and the necklace planted in her apartment?

“Yes.” He reached into his pocket and took out his phone. “Here. I’ll prove it. I was betrayed by my little bitch of a PA.”

The phone was thrust into Sam’s face. “May I?” Sam kept his hand steady as he reached out for the phone.

Mr. Delamere nodded and relinquished the phone to Sam, and then went to his desk and sat down heavily. As Sam scanned the message, he could understand why. Mr. Delamere was being blackmailed. The name at the end of the message was Lia’s.