Thefts of Nick Velvet Read Online Free PDF Page A

of a gently rolling field of scrub brush and young trees. Nick looked out across the low stone walls and open fields and wondered if people still went fox hunting in country like this.
    Asher didn’t bother with the doorbell, but took Nick around the back to a flagstone patio which led to a fenced-in swimming pool. A middle-aged man with thinning hair and a tanned, weathered face opened the gate to meet them. “Well, Asher! You’re more lovely every day.”
    “Thanks, Sam,” she said, bestowing a quick kiss on his cheek. “This is the man I told you about on the phone—Nick Velvet.”
    “Velvet?” Fitzpatrick extended his freckled hand. “Glad to meet you.”
    He led them through the wooden gate to the pool. It was a medium-sized one as such things went, with a shallow end for wading and a deep end with a springy diving board. There was a woman in the pool, swimming with a powerful breast stroke, but Nick couldn’t see her face at the moment.
    “Nice place you have here,” Nick observed.
    “I like privacy. Nearest neighbor’s more than a mile down the road.”
    “This is quite a pool.” Nick had been drawn to the edge, noticing the way the smooth edge glistened in layers of multiple colors. It was like marble or quartz, but cut through to show the layers of black and white, with sometimes just a hint of red or brown. “What’s this edge made of?”
    “Onyx. My first big play on Broadway was The Onyx Ring . The pool is one of my few luxuries.”
    Nick was beginning to understand. With the water out of the pool something might be done to remove these onyx layers from the edge. He wondered if Asher Dumont had a poor boy friend lurking somewhere offstage.
    The woman climbed out of the water, feeling for an oversized bath towel. Her figure was still good, but Nick knew she’d never see forty again. Asher made the introductions. “Nick, this is Sam’s wife, Lydia. This is a friend, Nick Velvet, Lydia.”
    The woman squinted and groped on the poolside table for her glasses. “I’m blind without them,” she explained. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Velvet. Lovely weather, isn’t it?”
    “Certainly is,” Nick agreed, sinking into the red-and-green chair that Fitzpatrick had indicated. He was studying the rear of the house, and the street beyond where no traffic seemed to pass. An idea was beginning to shape itself in his mind.
    “Let me get drinks for us,” Lydia Fitzpatrick offered, blinking from behind her thick glasses.
    “Fine idea,” her husband said. Then, “Now, what did you want to see me about, Mr. Velvet?”
    “I admired your plays,” Nick said, playing with the plastic webbing of his chair. “Especially The Dear Slayer . Quite a tricky ending,”
    Fitzpatrick leaned back in his own chair and stroked his thinning hair. “That’s what you need for Broadway, a trick ending.”
    “I have a plot that might interest you,” Nick told him. “It’s never been done before.”
    “You’re a writer?”
    “No, that’s why Asher suggested I come to you.”
    The producer smiled slightly, as if he’d heard it all before. Lydia returned with drinks and settled to the ground at her husband’s side. “I get a lot of people with ideas,” Fitzpatrick said. “Usually I don’t even like to listen to them. But I’ll make an exception since you’re a friend of Asher’s. This girl is like a daughter to me.” He reached out to take her hand and she smiled as if on cue.
    Nick sipped his drink. “Well, it’s a locked-room sort of thing.”
    “Locked rooms are a bit old-fashioned for Broadway.”
    “Not this one!” Nick hoped he was conveying the proper enthusiasm. “Listen. A man is murdered in a completely locked room. The doors and windows are all sealed and there’s no secret passage.”
    “A locked room is difficult to bring off on the stage, when one whole wall is always open to the audience. But go on—how’s it done?”
    Nick leaned back and grinned. “There’s a type of laser beam