= Keeping Sharp
  by Dorothy Francis


Blanche Walker stood behind the Jenkins Jewelry counter. There had been no customers yet, but it was early. She adjusted the gold pin on her black suit lapel, patted her silver hair. She looked pretty good for a gal on social security if she did say so herself. But then, she worked hard at keeping her body and her mind sharp.

She held to a strict diet. She wore stylish clothes even if she had to shop at Second Time Around. In her spare time she played cards, read mystery novels, and worked the daily crossword. Mr. Jenkins had suggested that she might want to retire. No way! She loved her job. She loved people. She dreaded turning into a couch potato just because she was sixty-five. Even so, it worried her that Mr. Jenkins recently had hired a young clerk just out of school.

Ah! A customer. Blanche sucked in her stomach.

"How may I help you?" she asked.

The man wore an expensive business suit, and he gazed lovingly at the dark-haired beauty with him before he smiled at Blanche.

"We want to see engagement rings, please," he said, "and I want the best for Nicole. We're being married soon, and nothing's too good for Mr. Big and his little woman."

"How wonderful." Mr. Big? Little woman? This guy sounded like a real piece of work. Blanche tried to remember if she'd seen Nicole's picture in the newspaper's Engagement Announcements. "Is Culver City your home?"

"It is now," Nicole said. "I moved here recently, and then when we met, well..." She smiled up at her fiance.

Blanche always clipped weekly engagement columns and read them carefully. If a girl pictured came into Jenkins Jewelry, Blanche could usually make a few comments relating to her life. Blanche's flattery impressed the brides-to-be and, more important, her ability to remember details impressed Mr. Jenkins. An old lady had to keep on her toes these days. She thought again about Mr. Jenkins' new clerk.

"What type of engagement ring do you prefer?" Blanche asked.

"I'd like to look at some diamond solitaires," Nicole said.

"Big ones." Her fiance grinned broadly. "Nothing but the best for my Nicole."

Blanche walked to the back of the store to unlock the display case. Was that beer she smelled on Mr. Big's breath? This early in the morning? But a customer's drinking habits were none of her business. She set a tray of solitaires on the countertop.

"Here are some lovely samples. What's your size, Nicole?"

"Seven, please."

Blanche noted the glib reply. Few girls knew their ring size. Even if they knew it, they usually wanted a check for accuracy. Blanche pointed to the size seven row in the display tray. "Half carat, one carat, two carat."

She scrutinized the couple. She noticed the man's grubby fingernails as he fitted a ring on Nicole's finger. Something about this couple made her nervous. But that was silly. Maybe it was the thought of the new young clerk that had her nerves on edge.

Blanche always kept her knee near the alarm button. In case of emergency, she could alert the police immediately. But even so, the robber would probably escape before the police arrived. And, she told herself, the police wouldn't appreciate being called out because a customer had beer breath. Worse, Mr. Jenkins would think she was turning into a frightened old lady.

"I can't make up my mind," Nicole said. "I want them all." She laughed. "Of course, I'm kidding. Could you set two or three rings aside so I can look at them again tomorrow?"

"We could probably make a decision then." As the man patted Nicole's hand, his jacket sleeve rose, revealing a heart tattoo on his wrist.

"Tomorrow would be fine," Blanche said. The couple thanked her and left. Beer breath. Grubby nails. Heart tattoo. She had read plenty of articles about well-dressed men returning to a shop and doing a snatch and grab. But no, she was letting her imagination run away with her. This young couple was about to enter married bliss.

That night Blanche did the daily crossword before she played cards with her club. Afterward, she slept soundly until morning. Had it not been for the hope of making an impressive sale, she might have forgotten about the couple.

Shortly after the store opened, her potential customer came in alone.

"How may I help you today?" Blanche asked.

"Nicole didn't need to return," the man said. "I talked her into the two-carat ring with the wide band. You remember the one? She wanted a smaller diamond, but a man in my position wants his wife to wear the biggest and the best."

"Of course." Blanche wished Mr. Jenkins were in his office, but this was the day he arrived late. Had this man known that? Had he cased the place ahead of time? He still smelled faintly of beer.

Blanche walked to the back of the store, unlocked the display case, and brought the tray forward. She held the 2-carat ring for his inspection. "This is the one, right?"

"That's right, you old biddy." The man grabbed the ring, dropped it into his inside coat pocket and ran.

Blanche kneed the alarm button immediately and then, disregarding Mr. Jenkins' instructions, she ran around the counter and out after the man. Too late. He was already driving away. But wait. Maybe she wasn't too late.

She read the vanity plate on his car. MR. BIG. The police should have no trouble tracing that one. And if he was dumb enough to go around with a plate like that, she couldn't imagine they'd have a hard time catching up with him.

By the time Mr. Jenkins stepped into the store, the police were there with Mr. Big and the diamond in tow.

"Sir," an officer said, "due to your clerk's quick thinking and fast action, we're taking Mr. Big into custody. We'll need statements from both of you if you plan to press charges."

Mr. Jenkins towered over them all as he ran his hand over his balding head and jutted his strong jaw forward.

"Of course I do," Mr. Jenkins said. "I'll press charges, and I intend to press a salary raise on my dependable helper, Blanche Walker. It takes someone with experience to handle situations like this, and I'm proud to be her employer."

"Thank you, Mr. Jenkins." Blanche smiled at her employer and breathed freely for the first time since the new clerk had arrived. Maybe, she thought, she'd invite the other clerk to lunch one day soon.

After all, if she could handle a professional robber, she could handle an eighteen-year-old girl.


DOROTHY FRANCIS, a graduate of the University of Kansas and a member of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators, currently writes mystery novels for young readers and short mystery fiction for adults. In 1999 her story "When in Rome" won a Derringer award from the Short Mystery Fiction Society. She writes from her home studios in Iowa and Florida.

Copyright (c) 2001 Dorothy Francis