A Persevering Heart

by Lisa Prysock

  Brad and Trisha smiled as he opened the navy sport jacket he’d paired with a white shirt and tan pants to retrieve some family photos from his wallet.

  “Cute kids,” Brad commented as a waitress asked if they’d like some coffee. All three of them slid their cups toward her and she filled them, promising to return shortly for their orders.

  “Yes, they are really cute kids,” Trisha agreed, studying the photos the agent shared. One day, she imagined maybe she and Brad would have the five children she hoped for, but she didn’t want to get to far ahead in her dreams. Instead, she tried to concentrate on the discussion going on with the agent.

  “Do you have any children of your own?” Bradley asked. This question made her daydream again about those five children she wanted to have someday.

  Reginald shook his head no. “In my line of work, it’s too dangerous to have a wife and kiddos. I take far too many risks, and then there’s the fact I never know if I’ll be home for dinner on time.”

  “Right, there’s that.” Brad chuckled. “Well, thank you for agreeing to take our case on. Is there a fee for your services?”

  “I usually only work for the Queen, but I’m making an exception to take your case. I’ve pulled in a few favors so we can make this endeavor quick and painless,” Agent Higgins was saying as he added soy milk to his coffee. “My brother-in-law, Jake, promised we’d share a glass of southern Georgia sweet tea and a large slice of freshly baked peach pie. Directly after we safely extradite the suspect, a Miss Rose Marie Jenson, acting with accomplice Jason Frederick, and confiscate the jewels from this Rebecca Gladstone, the social climber you mentioned to me three days ago, Fielding.”

  Bradley nodded, sipping his black coffee. “You have all of the objectives and details of the case correct so far, and if I may add, excellent taste in pie and tea,” Brad grinned. “Southern sweet tea and peach pie is the best.”

  Reginald Higgins smiled as he tucked his wallet back in the pocket of his jacket. “There is nothing finer in life than sharing pie and tea with my sister and her husband, the children frolicking at our feet, while seated in a rocking chair or a swing on the front porch.”

  “I take it you’ve been to Georgia,” Brad said, closing his menu. He appeared ready to place his order.

  “Georgia is beautiful. You have sunshine, the mountains, the coast, the cities, the countryside, southern belles, peaches, history, and mansions. Not to mention some of the best cooks in the world,” the agent said.

  “I cannot agree with you more.” Trisha nodded, crossing her arms and leaning back in the chair of the busy breakfast café. “So, let me get this straight. You’re taking our case on for nothing more than a slice of peach pie and a glass of sweet tea?”

  “That is correct,” Reginald answered with a stoic expression. Trisha and Brad exchanged glances, both surprised at his generosity, knowing there could be a great deal of risk involved. “I’m not one to leave a friend of my family in a lurch.”

  The waitress returned at that moment and asked what they’d like to order, beginning with Trisha. She smiled, opened her menu, and pointed to each item she wanted. “My favorite breakfast food when in England is a freshly baked European croissant, and I intend to indulge in one every morning while I’m here. I’ll also have the scrambled eggs, with some sliced ham, fresh fruit, some of this gourmet cheese, and a glass of orange juice.”

  “Perfect. I’ve got all that down, and I hope you have a smashing good time while you’re here,” the waitress replied as she scribbled down the order onto her waitress order pad, causing Trisha to smile. “Now what will it be for you, gentlemen?” she asked, gazing at Bradley and then shaking her head. “I recognize you, but can’t think where. Never mind, it will come to me when I least expect it.”

  They gave her their orders. Disappearing, she returned in a short time with Trisha’s order and two more plates of baked beans, grilled tomato slices, toasted muffins, and other traditional British breakfast fare for the men.

  “I’ll return with more coffee in just a second,” she said, leaving the table to grab the coffeepot.

  “Will there be anything else?” the waitress asked with a thick English accent when she returned and began filling their coffee cups. Looking at Brad’s white cowboy hat, her eyes lit up. “Say, I know where you’re from, and it’s not Victoria!”

  “Uh?” Brad grinned sheepishly. At least a dozen people had recognized him during their time in airports.

  Pointing her order pad at him, she exclaimed, “You’re Brad Fielding from the band Eternity!”

  “Yes, that’s right,” he chuckled. “Nice to meet you.” Thankfully, the café, situated not far from Victoria Station, was so loud with the hum of talkative guests that nobody else overheard her except their own table.

  “Would you please give me your autograph?” she asked, “And let me take a selfie with you? I’d ask you to step outside by the Little Ben clock tower since it’d be more scenic for your American friends, but this will do right here by your table.”

  “Sure,” he agreed, standing up to accommodate her wishes. When they were done with the photo and he’d scrawled his autograph on a blank order form, he sat down again. After the waitress hustled away with a happy smile to serve more customers, he added, “Sorry about the interruption to our breakfast.”

  “Not a problem. I guess it goes with the territory of being famous, but I must say, Jake didn’t mention this, that rascal. I’ll have to heckle him about it.” Reginald observed Bradley a little more closely. Then he turned to Patricia. “I assume this sort of thing happens on a regular basis. Does it bother you, Miss Johnston?”

  Trisha shook her head. “No, not at all. I’m in awe of all of it. It’s kind of a God thing, and please, call me Trisha.”

  Reginald nodded, “That’s good. I realize this is unsolicited advice coming from someone who never married, but don’t be one of those jealous types. In any relationship, on the few occasions in which I have encountered it—only because I’ve not been able to allow romantic attachments to develop to any one particularly special love of my life—I have found it entirely unbecoming. Be supportive and confident. You’re an extremely beautiful woman. You have nothing to fear about Mr. Fielding here running off with some fan who only wants a smile and a moment with someone of fame and talent. With a good man like this, you’ll have a happy life together if you continue to be supportive and understanding.”

  “Excellent thoughts,” Trisha replied, smiling back at him. Agent Higgins was an odd fellow, but likeable and wise, appreciative of the little things in life, obviously devoted to his sister’s family, possibly a ladies’ man, attractive, and had one of those British accents she could listen to for hours. Still, he couldn’t hold a candle to her Bradley, but she appreciated that he was in a unique position to help them.

  She reached for her boyfriend’s hand for the blessing, and after he led them in prayer, Reginald joining them with bowed head, Brad reached for the jam. “So what’s the plan for today, Mr. Higgins?”

  “Well, I was about to get to that before the waitress recognized you. I took the time to subpoena Miss Gladstone to a deposition after we spoke on the phone three days ago, as you recall. Yes, I know, we said that. Anyhow, the deposition will begin about an hour and a half from now. It took a bit of finagling on my part, but since I’m a busy man with a great many friends in high places, I was able to bring it all together. Thanks be to God.”

  “That is good news, Mr. Higgins. We’re moving along much faster than I expected.” Brad nodded approvingly as he slathered jam on his muffin. “What happens after that?”

  “Call me Reginald. It depends on how the hearing goes. If Miss Rebecca Gladstone wisely surrenders the jewels and comes clean with the truth about the broker who sold them to her, as her attorney informed me yesterday she intends to do, I’ll have the broker subpoenaed next. Perhaps he can lead us to your cousin before Jake does.” The agent tasted some of his grilled tomato slice.

/>   Trisha spoke up next. “Yes, Brad did say after speaking to Jake the other day, that he was attempting to trace Rose Marie’s credit card use and banking information, but for some reason, he’s having trouble determining much information for the boyfriend she’s traveling with, the man named Jason Frederick. As of a few days ago, she hadn’t used her card, yet.”

  “Yes, my brother-in-law informed me of these things and...” he smiled, “well, we have our ways here in the United Kingdom. Maybe she’s acquired a new one. My secretary is looking into it, also. Jake gave me what I think will be some useful information. We’ll see how the hearing goes today. Then we’ll check with my secretary on her progress. Eat your breakfast, and then we’ll go. We don’t want to be late to the deposition, and we’ve some heavy London traffic to cross on the way.”

  Chapter 16

  And the men of Israel and of Judah arose, and shouted, and pursued the Philistines, until thou comest to Gai, and to the gates of Ekron. And the wounded of the Philistines fell down by the way to Shaarim, even unto Gath, and unto Ekron. And the children of Israel returned from chasing after the Philistines, and they plundered their camp. I Samuel 17:52-53

  “I SAY, REBECCA GLADSTONE’S attorney was on top of it today,” Reginald Higgins said as Bradley and Trisha followed him after the hearing into another government building on Downing Street. “We’ve got the jewelry in our custody now, and Miss Gladstone even brought the broker along to ensure she would remain out of prison.”

  “I suppose she’s lost her investment, but by the look of her attorney and her enormous hat, I think she can find a way to recoup it from the broker,” Trisha remarked, thinking Reginald looked exuberant about the victory. Everything they’d needed had been settled between the lawyer and Higgins at the deposition since all parties desired to avoid the ordeal of going to court.

  “Yes, if he doesn’t end up in jail for selling any other stolen merchandise,” Reginald said, shaking his head. “At least he cooperated in this instance, and we now have his statement. This evidence, combined with everything else your attorney has, proves Rose Marie and Jason Frederick sold him your grandmother’s necklaces. They are without a doubt, the guilty party, although I know it must be a bittersweet moment of victory for you, Fielding.”

  Bradley nodded wordlessly as they reached the second floor. When they arrived at the door to his office, Agent Higgins led them inside where they were greeted by his personal secretary, seated behind a desk located outside his connecting office to their right. The redhead wore black-rimmed thick glasses, a headset, drank a long swig from a can of diet coke, and then blew a huge pink bubble with her chewing gum as they clustered around her work area.

  “Cheerio, Miss Broughton. Have you any news? I’ve brought Mr. Fielding and Miss Johnston back straightway from the deposition.” Reginald placed a stack of legal papers from the hearing before her. “There won’t be any need to subpoena the broker, as long as the jeweler we’ve hired to examine the recovered jewels finds them to be the real deal. Miss Gladstone brought him along as an unexpected surprise. We should hear from the gem specialist shortly.”

  She popped the bubble and chewed some more. Then she removed her glasses. “I see you’ve been successful from the smile on your face, Mr. Higgins. I’ve already had a call from the specialist. They are indeed the real deal. He’ll bring them over from the deposition in a few. Oh, do forgive me. Hello. I’ve forgotten my manners.” She smiled at Trisha and Bradley briefly, then turned back to Reginald and the three computer monitors facing her. “And I’ve got more news. We’ve got them. They’re on a wild shopping spree this morning. The suspects are shopping in Knightsbridge. A charge has appeared on Miss Rose Marie Jenson’s card at Harrod’s about an hour ago. Now, they’re at Topshop on Brompton Road. My guess, they’ll have high tea soon, somewhere in the same area. I don’t know why she’s using her American bank issued credit card. Perhaps she forgot to use a different card, or perhaps they intend to leave the country soon.”

  “Bravo, Miss Houghton. Excellent work. Excellent work! Where do you think they’ll have tea? Give me your best guess. And what other store do you think they’ll shop at in the area?” As he spoke, Reginald stepped around the desk to a corner where he opened what appeared to be a closet. He rummaged around for a moment, emerging to ask, “Trisha, you’re about a size five, I’d say. Size seven or eight shoe?”

  Miss Broughton interrupted the discussion about shoes to answer Agent Higgins previous question. “Not to interrupt your preparations for catching these jewelry thieves, but I’d guess they’re going to have high tea at Kensington’s Orangery. Did you know it was built in the 1700s for Mary’s younger sister, Anne, who went on to become Queen?”

  “How do you know all of my sizes, Reginald?” Trisha’s tossed him a suspicious smile. Glancing at Miss Broughton, she added, “I’d certainly enjoy tea at the Orangery, too. Queen Victoria was born at Kensington Palace.”

  Miss Broughton chuckled and blew another bubble with her chewing gum, taking off her glasses to inspect Trisha more closely. “You know your history. How refreshing!”

  “Thank you,” Trisha smiled with a nod, forgetting all about how Reginald might have correctly guessed her shoe and clothing size.

  Mr. Higgins disregarded their remarks, returning to the closet, then emerging again, this time with two hangers of clothing on each. “You’ve both met, Rose Marie, correct?”

  “We have.” Bradley nodded.

  “Put these on then. You’ll need to be disguised or it will be difficult to apprehend the suspects,” he explained.

  Trisha eyed the closet filled with disguises and costumes. “Have you worn all these before, Reginald?”

  “Oh, at one time or another, I suppose I have,” he replied. “With the exception of a few items. Definitely the blond wig, but the hippy wig is my favorite.”

  “You’re going to let us help?” Bradley asked, holding up his hanger of clothing as he examined the costume.

  Reginald nodded. “In truth, you’ll be far more likely to spot Rose Marie and her accomplice before I would. I’ve only studied photos. Furthermore, all of our agents are tied up on other assignments, so I’m afraid I presently welcome even the most inexperienced help.”

  “Okay, got it. We’d better hurry if we’re going to catch them.” Bradley traded his cowboy hat for a tweed cap from the clothing on the hanger in his hand, and then chuckled as he peeled a paper strip off the adhesive on a fake mustache he found in another small bag on the hanger. He stuck the mustache beneath his nose and smoothed it out. Then he slipped on a light brown, corduroy blazer over his blue plaid shirt. “I think I’m ready.”

  “I think your mustache is slightly crooked,” Trisha laughed, pulling a bleach blond wig off the hanger while Bradley attempted to straighten the mustache. She slid the wig on, glad she’d worn her hair up. It made it easier to don the disguise.

  “Is this any better?” he asked, peering at her. She laughed again when he added a pair of ultra-thick bifocals to his disguise. “I hope I don’t trip on anything wearing these.”

  “And I hope you don’t lose that mustache if it happens to fall off.” She looked at the knee-high black boots dangling inside a bag on the hanger and kicked off her black pumps. Zipping the boots on one at a time, she giggled when Brad held up a wide-brimmed black felt hat with a band of hot pink fabric for her to wear.

  “At least I’m wearing black today. Could you hand me that fuchsia bolero jacket? Then I’m all set.” She’d worn a black, short-waisted jacket over a black dress that stopped a few inches above the boots she now wore. She slipped off the black jacket, trading it for the bright pink bolero. “I’m ready,” Trisha announced, slipping the hat on over the blond wig.

  Brad gathered their other items, tossing them onto the sofa near the windows. “Wait, you need these.” Brad fished something else from the bag on her hanger and then slid a pair of dark, large sunglasses over her ears. She adjusted them, pushing them up higher on
her nose, a fit of giggles accompanying their merriment over the costumes.

  “You look a million bucks,” Brad chuckled as Mr. Higgins gave a few last minute directions to his secretary.

  “Somehow, I can’t see Mr. Higgins in this blond wig,” Trisha commented, tucking in a stray lock of her hair that had somehow managed to come loose in the flurry of putting the disguises on.

  The agent paused to look them over before moving onward. He handed them two badges. “I hereby bequeath you with badges from your government’s Central Intelligence Agency. Our government is now assisting yours. Only show these if you must, otherwise, hide them—except when we run out of this building. The guards will be looking for them if you’re ever parted from me, and they may require them at other times. Depends on how long this takes. Hopefully we can catch these two thieves in one shot. You two look incognito. I approve. Let’s get a move on.”

  Reginald held the door open and they followed, Trisha trying her best not to laugh anymore. “My driver is waiting and Miss Houghton just texted him the address, but we’re going to have to run. I hope you two are in great shape. Follow me!”

  There was no time to answer Reginald as he took off down the hall at a pace that surprised them both. They had to hustle to catch up as he slid down a banister to the first floor to avoid waiting on an elevator, landed on both feet, and ran out the front door of the building. He flew past several armed guards posted outside the door, apparently accustomed to Reginald as he dodged past them hollering, “They’re with me!”

  Brad shrugged and then slid down the banister, Trisha following. The guards waved them on when Brad and Trisha held up their badges as they approached the exit, slowing a little to be sure they’d be allowed to pass.