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I arrived at the office at the usual time, around nine a.m., to find Hank having coffee with a well-dressed middle-aged gentleman whom he introduced to me as Chester King. “He was waiting outside when I arrived,” said Hank. I deduced that Mr. King was eager, desperate, or an insomniac.
He explained his problem: “I collect chess sets. As you probably know, they can be made of almost anything – gold, silver, ivory, wood, or plastic. One wealthy ruler is supposed to have had men, women, and children dressed as the various pieces.” If I were one, preferably a pawn, I thought, I would probably hope to be captured early in the game.
“I have nineteen sets, most of them valuable, and I often display them at tournaments. The last couple of times, someone has cut the head off the king, greatly reducing the value of the sets. There’s a tournament in Blandsville this Saturday in the High School gym and I’ve promised to show my most valuable sets and I was hoping that you would come and protect them.”
I agreed to do so.
“By the way, do you play chess, Mr. Tuff?”
“Not well,” I admitted modestly. Actually the few times I have competed, I’ve been eliminated in my first game – except once. It was a timed event: a player had one minute to make his or her move. My opponent was dominating me, but while planning a quick victory, he exceeded the time limit and was disqualified. My next opponent defeated me quickly. I know the pieces and how they move, but complex strategy, thinking three moves ahead, is beyond me, like Einsteinian physics. Mr. King admitted that he too was not a good chess player.
As I looked forward to Saturday, I thought of my first client, Amanda Friend. She has helped me on several cases with her amazing ability to spot nefarious behaviour. It anyone could find the proverbial needle in a haystack, it would be Amanda, although I have never understood why anyone would put a needle in a haystack. I called her and asked her to accompany me to the tournament.
“Is this a date?” she asked.
“Well… a working date.”
She agreed to go, although I sensed a lack of enthusiasm. She is a beautiful and multi-talented woman and I wouldn’t be surprised if she were an excellent chess player.
On Saturday we entered the high school gym wearing jeans and tee-shirts, hers with the appropriate warning: “Don’t make any moves on me.” Thirty-two tables were set up, each with a board and chess pieces. At one end of the room was a long table on which sat several of Mr. King’s sets. They were beautiful and looked very expensive. All of the kings’ heads appeared to be intact.
