Lady Prescott's Earring

I first met Sir John Prescott before knighthood was bestowed on him in recognition for his fine diplomatic labours as Consul in Thailand. I had been attached to our embassy there, in Bangkok, to keep a nose in the breezes of political change. The situation on their eastern border was one of impending invasion by Cambodian-Vietnamese forces intent on seducing their neighbours to the dubious delights of a communist utopia by whatever means necessary.

The Foreign Office likes to keep close observations on such developments, especially when British interests are well established there. I am what the better novelists refer to as 'something to do with intelligence,' while paperback thrillers label the same as 'spies'.

With this knighthood came the promotion of Ambassador to the Philippines – the top notch office at the embassy in Manila, a luxurious residence in Dasmarinas Village in Makati ‘zillionaire belt’ - and the title of 'Lady' for his eccentric spouse.

Yes, Lady Prescott. During my first introduction to her at an embassy function in Bangkok, she quickly informed me her family had been in tea in Ceylon for a century, and was certain she knew my mother from school - Roedean, of course. I found her then an oppressive, dominating woman, with airs and graces quite alien to her actual family background and schooling. But, in the practiced art of diplomacy, many false smiles are demanded, along with lively participation in conversations of utterly boring and mundane themes.

Now her husband was the reverse side of the proverbial coin, a most straight-forward man of high integrity. But, as I later came to discover, one who allowed his wife her delusions of nobility, as far they never compromised his professional position.
We took an instant liking to each other in Thailand, and it was with a pleasant acceptance I undertook my posting to the embassy in Manila at the ouster of the Marcos regime in 1986. Yes, the winds of change were in the air once more in a developing Asian country where our government's interests were invested. Time for reassessments and evaluations of the political climate in the sprawling archipelago of the Philippines.

My last trip to the country had been several years before, at the time of Sir Robert Fairfax's Ambassadorship. We seemed quite happy then to turn a blind eye to the abuses and excesses of the Marcos government, as long our investments and nationals were secure. I travelled the islands quite extensively at that time, and grew to enjoy their peoples and customs immensely. The depth and scope of my submitted report, compiled at the conclusion of that visit, were the qualifying factor in my selection to return there on that second occasion.

I was met at the airport terminal by the British Vice-Consul, and one of the Philippine Immigration Commission’s underlings, and duly bypassed the normal, tedious channels of passport control and customs to an official limousine. At the embassy in Manila I presented my credentials to Sir John, and at his insistence became a house guest at the beautiful Ambassador's residence in nearby Dasmarinas Village.

By the time we arrived there in the late afternoon, Lady Prescott had been informed of my imminent visitation by Sir John's secretary. She hovered fussingly around me like an annoying insect as I alighted from the air-conditioned Daimler.

'Darling boy,' she greeted, throwing her bare, freckled arms around me. 'You must be exhausted, all the way from Mother England on that horrible flight. And the heat here, it is awfully oppressive you know. But I'm totally acclimatized now, and simply adore the sunshine. I never use the house air-conditioning at all. Being brought up in the tropical heat of Ceylon, I suppose. You must be very careful with the air-conditioning here, it blocks up your sinuses: then you go out into the heat and come down with colds and fevers.'

I had already commenced the unconscious routine of smiles and nods as she started to lead me into the house. Sir John gave his chauffeur instructions then followed us.
'Nonsense Amelia, young Gray's been here before. Spend over a year island-trotting in '79 and '80, sniffing round the bloody Moros and NPA scoundrels. He's not worried about a spot of Asian sunshine,' Sir John corrected her. 'Reckon he's here for the same thing again, now they've kicked old Marcos out. Find out if we pull up roots, or weather the changes. Got his own briefs from London though. Won't be telling me much, I'll be bound. That right, Gray?'

I was getting into the smiling-nodding routine so well, I almost presented Sir John with the same idiotic look I was treating his wife. Correcting myself unnoticed, I informed him my main task would be to confer with British business principals, and sound out their views and apprehensions on the current political situation.

'Hump,' he snorted amicably, 'a likely bloody story. Keep your eye on the communists here. The Chinese and Eastern block are feeding the NPA with whatever backing they ask for. And the Moros get all their weapons and financing from that bloody madman in Libya. Heard that from your contemporaries on Roxas Boulevard. The CIA don't let the grass grow under their feet, eh? Still, we can talk about them tomorrow. Days of rest for me, Saturday and Sunday. No doubt you'll want to wear my ears out with questions, won't you Gray? No peace for the wicked until they reach the grave, eh?'
He chuckled to himself as we entered the main lounge, myself still being led by Lady Prescott.

'Why don't you both make yourselves comfortable on the patio while I have one of the house boys bring drinks out for us all.' she tattled on. 'Then Mr. Gray can shower and rest before dinner. We are very informal here really, Peter. I may call you Peter, dear? After all, we are old friends from Thailand, aren't we? You must tell me how your darling mother is, I haven't seen her in years.'

This last sentence came over her shoulder as she walked back across the lounge in search of servants. I watched her exit the room, its floor tiled with marble: a creamy colour with grey streaked veins. Sir John led the way out through sliding aluminium glassed doors onto the patio. Again, this too was tiled in the same marble flooring as the lounge.
Yet the patio furniture was a sad, conflicting mix of wrought iron tables, and rattan chairs and loungers. But the outlook over the manicured lawns and flower beds was compensation enough for the lack of uniformity in the garden furniture.

On my last trip to the Philippines, the Ambassador's residence had been in Bel Air subdivision. In typical keeping with Sir Robert Fairfax's personal habits, it had been an austere and gloomy house. We sat comfortably, and I gazed across the gardens: putting names to the shrubs and trees as a fireball sun gradually set to my right.

My head turned as Sir John spoke. 'You're a good chap, Gray. Far too polite with her, you know. She can be a bit of a bore at times. But I see you admire her handiwork in designing our gardens, en? Did a damn fine job with them. Most of it out of her own sweat too. Like a bloody jungle when we took the place over. She was out there every day with the landscaping people. Working alongside them, and firing instructions in all directions.'

'I can't complain about her really, been a good wife to me. And my hearing's very selective when she tends to rabbit on. Three more years and I'll be taking my retirement. Then she can settle back to manage our place in Kent, and impress the local Townswomen's Guild with tales of her life as a diplomat's spouse in the far-flung capitals of the world. Does she actually know your mother from school?'

I smiled, and lowered my eyes a little before looking back to his ruddy, white moustached face. 'No Sir John I don't think so. My mother attended a small provincial school in Yorkshire. She never had the advantage of a Rhoedean education.'

'Well bloody hell lad, you don't actually believe that Amelia attended Rhoedean? Good God, her father managed a tea plantation at Kandy. Got into debt through drink and gambling, then blew his brains out with a Webley .38. Left her mother and the three daughters penniless. I was with the embassy in Colombo when Mrs. Dennings came to us for assistance in getting her family back to England.'

'As fate would have it, I travelled back on the same ship, and our romance started during the voyage. Got married the following year. My mentor in the Foreign Office recommended me to marry: put some stability in the file. Better chances of promotion. You know the company line, old chap.'

'Mind you, she was a junior diplomat's wife for so long that a lot of her airs have rubbed off from senior's wives. And they were baptised into the diplomatic corps during Empire's day - all old-time colonial stock.'

'Never married yourself, eh Gray? Kept the field open? Don't blame you, plenty of years ahead of you yet. Not the same importance attached to wife and family in the Foreign Service now - especially not in your line.'

I enjoyed his easy banter, and replied that I had been engaged once, but my fiancée broke the engagement off during one of my protracted trips to foreign shores.

'No surprise to me at all. Expecting some young filly to stay put while her stallion's off gallivanting around the bloody globe. Serves you right,' he taunted in jest.

'Where the hell's Amelia with our drinks' He questioned, rising from his rattan recliner and making his way back into the house. 'Excuse me a minute Gray. I'll go and find out why we're being left to die of thirst,' he called as he trod into the lounge.

I again turned my attentions to the splendid gardens. Though now the sun had left a sultry dusk as evidence of its imminent departure. Still, the night scented stock filled the twilight air with a multitude of aromas: jasmine being the most predominant. Then my night vision was extinguished by the patio lights being turned on, as if to herald the arrival of a white-jacketed Filipino house boy carrying a tray loaded with tumblers, ice, and bottles.

'Sorry Sir, your drinks a long time to come,' he apologised. 'His Excellency only inform me just that you need drinks here. The Lady Prescott she have said nothing to me. Please Sir, what can I pour for you?'

'Walang problema,' I replied. 'Isang gin na may tonic at yelo.'

'Sus, Sir, you speak Filipino already,' he commented with surprise. 'Saan po kayo natuto nang Tagalog?'

'Ah, kaunti lamang, naman. Natuto ako noong huli kong pagpunta dito,' I replied to his question of where I had learned my Filipino. I explained it was not fluent, and picked up during my previous visit to the islands.

He served my drink, then excused himself, going back into the house. I returned to my musing on the scents of the evening's air.

'Damnedest thing,' Sir John spoke as he walked out onto the patio. 'Amelia's lost one of her earrings. Left them on the dressing table in her bedroom this afternoon. She's grilling her maid upstairs, thinks the girl's taken it. Talking about calling the police.'

As he re-seated himself I inquired whether they had experienced any other thefts of personal property from the house.

'No, haven't had a single problem in that area, all been very good up to now. Myself, I don't think the girl's taken it. Why take only one, and not the pair, eh? Most bewildering.' 'But Amelia's adamant she hasn't misplaced it, as she methodically puts them in the jewellery stand on her dresser.'

Lady Prescott could be heard, shouting in angry tones. Then all went quiet as she came out of the lounge doors and sat down heavily on a rattan chair.

'Honestly, you simply can't trust them,' she stated loudly. 'Leave anything lying around, and it's bound to go missing. I've told Marina that if it is not replaced by morning, then I intend to call in the Metrocom police, and let them get to the bottom of the matter. It can only be her, she is the only one who has access to my bedroom. None of the other servants ever have occasion to go into the room.'

'Is the earring valuable?' I inquired.

'Why yes Peter,' she replied. 'It's part of a necklace set, a diamond and sapphire cluster mounted in white gold. Victorian, actually. A family heirloom given to me by my mother.'

'Have you had anything else go missing from your room at all?' I further inquired.

Seeming pensive, she replied 'No, this is the first time, Nothing of value or consequence, anyway.'

'What do you mean by 'nothing of value or consequence' Lady Prescott?' I pressed.
'Well, it's silly really, but yesterday a zipper toggle broke on my dress. I placed the toggle in my jewellery stand with the intention of trying to fix it later, and last night it was gone.' she answered.

'Doubtful Marina would steal a bloody zipper toggle,' speculated Sir John, who was listening to my little enquiry.

'May I see your room please, Lady Prescott?' I asked. 'The scene of the crime, so to speak.'

'There you go,' interjected Sir John, 'Gray's hot in pursuit already. All that military intelligence and special branch training coming out. Really Amelia, I don't want bloody Metrocom stamping all over the house terrifying the servants. Let's see if Gray can turn the earring up, otherwise we forget the matter.'

'I have no intentions of forgetting the matter John,' she replied. 'I'm certain Marina has taken it or knows who has. She simply will not look me in the eyes when I question her about it. And you know what that implies, don't you? A guilty conscience. The housekeeper is searching Marina's room now, and I'm sure she will find it there. But, if the two of you wish to play detectives, then I shall not interfere.'

I arose from my chair, and Lady Prescott led the way through the house, and upstairs to her bedroom. Sir John trod close behind, my eager Watson. It was a high ceilinged room, with a nice outlook onto the rear gardens from the French windows set in the south wall. I walked across to her dresser and cast my eyes on the jewellery stand: a white porcelain affair with several small bowls set into its tiers. I picked it up carefully, and examined its entirety.

'Where is the remaining earring? May I see it, please?' I asked her.

She opened a drawer in the dresser, and produced the solitary remaining earring from a lacquered box.

'Was anything else in the stand at the time your earring went missing?' I inquired.
'Oh yes, my Cartier watch, a brooch, and this silver grip,' she replied, indicating the grip's presence in her greying hair.

'Strange that your maid would steal a single earring, and leave a valuable Cartier watch sitting there,' I pondered aloud. 'Lady Prescott, I must ask you this, but is there any possibility, the remotest chance, that you may have misplaced the other earring?'

'No’, she was adamant, “the pair were together in the stand, and it had not been misplaced.'

I switched on the fluorescent light set in the top of her dresser, and examined a strange marking in a trace of talcum powder on the dresser's surface. I smiled inwardly as I reached my hand up and ran it along the dresser's top edge. My fingers felt just what I expected. I stood on the dresser stool, and inspected the top surface more closely.

'Tell me, Lady Prescott, do you keep the French windows open in the daytime?' I asked.
'Why yes, I sit out there on the veranda and crochet in the afternoons. In fact, that is what I was doing when you both arrived this afternoon.'

'And you came downstairs to meet us, leaving the French windows open?' I prompted.
'Yes, they're open all day when the weather is dry. I enjoy the fresh air from the garden,' she related.

'Well, I think I can say with some certainty that your maid is innocent of the crime she stands accused. Tomorrow I hope to locate your thief, and his cache of ill-gotten gains,' I informed them both.

'Remarkable Gray,' said Sir John. 'What clue have you discovered to warrant such optimism?'

'I would prefer to hold my answers until the case is successfully concluded tomorrow, if you don't mind, Sir John?' I replied with an obvious, smug grin on my face.

'Honestly Peter, I don't know what you hope to achieve by this detective charade,' she spoke in a scolding tone. 'I think I shall leave you both to your games and go and see what Mrs. Enriquez has discovered in Marina's room.'

She left the room brusquely, with Sir John and myself following her down the stairs. As she disappeared into the servant's quarters, we went out through the lounge and regained our seats on the patio. I refreshed my drink, and looked out again across the rear gardens: viewing the shadowy outline of the trees. Lighting a cigarette, I drew deeply, then turned to face my host.

'Would I be correct in assuming dawn to come around six-thirty in the morning, at this time of year?' I asked.

'Should be climbing by then, yes. Why, an early start to your hunt tomorrow, eh Gray?'

'Yes, I feel a case of this magnitude calls for early birds,' I answered jokingly. 'Do you happen to have a pair of binoculars in the house, Sir John?'

'Pair in the study, use them at the Polo Club sometimes. Bloody good pair too. Seven degree wide angle, ten by fifties. Zeiss all-weather jobs,' he replied.

'May I borrow them after dinner, then I needn't disturb you first thing in the morning for them?'

'Certainly old chap. In fact I'll go and get them now. Don't need a magnifying glass too, do you?' He jested in reply.

'No, the binoc's will be fine, thanks.'

He got up from his seat, and ventured back into the house, returning a few minutes later with Lady Prescott.

'Here you are Gray,' he said, handing me the binocular case as they both seated themselves around the grotesque wrought iron table.

'Thank you, Sir John,' I replied, examining the case's contents. 'Yes, they are a superb pair, I think they'll fit my needs adequately. Did your housekeeper discover anything suspicious in the maid's room?' I enquired of Lady Prescott.

'Not yet Peter, but I'm certain of Marina's guilt. She is pleading with Mrs. Enriques to believe her, and for me not to call the police. Unfortunately, Mrs. Enriques does believe her, but that is typical of her good nature. I think Marina is taking advantage of that fact, but it will do her no good. I intend to get to the bottom of this affair, and stamp out dishonesty in my household before pilferage and random theft become a daily occurrence.'

'I would advise you to go easy on the maid, Lady Prescott, and I'll have this little mystery solved by breakfast-time tomorrow for you,' I concluded as the house boy who had brought drinks earlier came out to inform us that dinner was ready to be served.

The old girl mellowed a mite over dinner with the help of a fine claret, and the liqueurs served with coffee at the meal's completion. Heartily fed, I bade them both many thanks for their hospitality and a good-night, then retired to my room to shower and sleep.

I was awake by six, and after a quick wash made my way downstairs to the patio as dawn's first red streaks cut through the steel grey of the eastern sky. The house boy had noticed my early appearance, and brought breakfast tea and coffee out to the patio table.
Declining his offer of actual breakfast until later, I sat back with a first cigarette of the day and sipped the fragrant jasmine tea: complemented with calamansi juice instead of milk.

As the sun's fiery orb rose to peer over the trees, the air became alive with insects and birds foraging about the gardens and splendid foliage. My borrowed binoculars were on the table beside me, and I started to scan the grounds with interest until I located what my suspicions told me was to be found. Smiling to myself, I lighted a second cigarette, and refilled my cup with the fragrant tea.

Sir John and his wife came out to join me at seven o'clock, with the latter proposing we breakfasted on the patio as the morning was so beautiful. As she was about to rise, and return indoors to issue the servants with breakfasting instructions, I presented her with my request.

'Lady Prescott, would you indulge an erstwhile detective in his plan, and place your remaining earring, and other usual jewellery’s in the stand on your dresser? Then I think I will quickly locate your thief and his hideout for you.'

'Really Peter, I think this is taking the matter too far,' she chided. 'Nobody will attempt to steal anything from there after last night's hue and cry.'

'Come on Amelia,' interjected Sir John, 'play the game by Gray's rules. He promised us an arrest and swift justice before the sun’s over the yard-arm.'

'You are as bad too John. Both of you behaving like boy scouts. Oh, very well, if it will satisfy your idiotic senses of intrigue,' she replied, rising from her chair and walking into the house.

I had noticed earlier that the French windows of her bedroom had opened shortly before she and Sir John came down to join me. Obviously it was her custom to open them when she rose in the morning.

Sir John and I sat and chatted in her absence.

'You sleep all-right last night, Gray?' He asked.

'Yes, fine thanks. I was pretty tired after my flight from London.'

'Sorry you never got a shower and a nap before dinner last night. But things got a mite disorganised with this damn business over Amelia's earring. I told her after you left us that on no account is she to summon Metrocom concerning this matter. Says she wouldn't have anyway, but just threatened to do so and put the fear of God into Marina and the other servants. Try to make them own up to the theft.'

'I can assure you that none of the servants have taken it, Sir John. No worries, all will be revealed later this morning.' I assured him.

Lady Prescott reappeared accompanied by two house boys pushing trolleys loaded with breakfast fare. She dutifully played mother, and made sure I ate a hearty English breakfast. The solitary earring and other jewellery were back in their normal places, she informed me.

'Good,' I pronounced, 'now all we have to do is sit back and wait for the felon to make his call.'

My eyes lifted to her veranda, and she turned her head to follow my gaze.

'Good gracious! You surely don't expect someone to come into the gardens and climb to my bedroom while we are sat here, do you?' She exclaimed in a mocking tone.

'Yes, Lady Prescott, that is precisely what I do expect to happen in the next hour or so. In fact, I've already seen the thief lurking around the far end of the garden this morning. He'll be back later.'

'No danger, is there Gray?' Sir John asked. 'Bastard's not likely to be armed, is he?'

'No, I don’t think he will be,' I answered with a smile.

'Peter Gray,' she began in a scolding tone,' I don't think this is a matter for mirth nor jest I really hope you can justify such an obvious display of humour at the theft of half my earring set.'

With this, she rose from the table, leaving her breakfast hardly touched, and stormed off into the house.

'Hope there is a good reason for your humour Gray,' cautioned Sir John. 'She is pretty upset over this damn earring. Being handed down from her mother, and all that.'

'I think you'll see the funny side of the whole affair too, Sir John, once the ear-ring is retrieved,' I answered. 'I can't guarantee the thief's apprehension, but I'm certain of his loot being located.'

No sooner had I spoken when he subject of my scrutiny appeared and entered her bedroom. I lifted the binoculars to my eyes and observed all movements in that vicinity for several minutes. When I was satisfied of the criminal's lair, I asked Sir John to accompany me to his wife's bedroom. He looked somewhat puzzled as we ascended the staircase, although held his questions and led the way in silence.

On entering her room, we discovered the jewellery stand complete with Cartier, silver hair grip and the brooch. But the single earring was conspicuous by its absence.

'Good Lord!' he exclaimed. 'You were right Gray, the blighter's been and gone. How the hell did he get in and out under our noses?'

'Do you have a ladder on the premises?' I inquired.

'Why, yes. There's one out in the garage. What in damnation are you up to now?'

Without replying, I walked back downstairs, and out to the garage area of the grounds. Yes, there it was: an aluminium extension ladder, ideal for my purposes.

Sir John seconded one of his gardeners to assist me, and we carried the ladder to the far end of the garden where a mature mango tree stood: it's branches thick with large shading leaves.
Erecting the ladder against the tree's bole, I climbed into the concealing greenery and began my search. The thief stood by unabashed, and looked on with an offended air Ruffling his shiny, black feathers, and stabbing at my hand with his bright, orange beak as I emptied his nook of glittering bric-a-brac. He squawked at me a final time as I descended first the tree, then the ladder: his ill-gotten gains in my trouser pocket.

Sir John had disappeared by the time I reached the safe comfort of terra firma again. The gardener and myself carried the ladder back to its home in the garage. My helper was surely pondering with curiosity the strange early morning antics of the house guest.

I dusted myself off and returned to the patio: there divesting my pocket of the treasure trove. One thumb tack, one five centavo coin, one zipper toggle, one paper clip, two brass tyre valve dust caps, one contact lens (of all things), and one pure white pukka bead, and a pair of diamond-sapphire ear-rings set in white gold.

I examined Lady Prescott's heirloom carefully, paying special attention to the stones and their settings. I became so enthralled in my appraisal that, at first, I failed to notice Sir John and his wife come out to join me.

'Here you are, Lady Prescott,' I spoke with relish. 'The crime is solved, and the larcenous gains retrieved. Unfortunately, the culprit remains at large. A martinez, actually, with his den of vice located in your mango tree.'

They both sat in a cloud of gloom, Lady Prescott on the verge of tears. Sir John rubbed his hand across a now-paled face.

'We have a problem, Peter,' he said quietly. 'The housekeeper missed Marina this morning, and just went in to wake her. She'd taken an overdose of aspirin last night, the empty bottle is by the side of her bed. A great pity we didn't discover her earlier we might have been able to save her. The police and coroner are on their way now, I just rang them.'

I looked at Lady Prescott with total disgust as tears ran down her cheeks. I placed the ear-rings in front of her.

'What a damn shame,' I said with slow deliberation. 'And all over a paste earring.'