Written in Black, a short story in 498 words

My writers' group homework was a 500-word crime story. I wrote the first draft of this several years ago so I re-worked it to fit the required length. Any comments?

Brian looked at the diary and wondered why Joe had left it to him.

Joey Johnson used to run a Used Car dealership with Brian Ryan, who was surprised to inherit such a peculiar, and completely valueless, bequest. The two men had not parted on good terms when the business went bust. Certain financial irregularities had been revealed, and although Joe took the blame, he had never forgiven Brian for not owning up to his part in the creative accounting.

It was Brian’s wife, the eagle-eyed Brenda, who spotted the distinctive pattern in the diary entries, along with a series of names and numbers, disguised in a clumsy code. On the 25^th of every month Joe had taken an early morning ferry to Ostend, then a bus to to Amsterdam, before returning home before breakfast the following day. On the 26^th there was a coded message written in black – GBS25K.

Now the plan could take shape, and the clock started ticking.

Twenty four hours later Brian made a call, posing as Joe’s half-brother, breaking the news of his early death, suggesting he continued to smuggle diamonds for a monthly commission of £25,000.

Three days later Brian was leaving the lobby of an Amsterdam hotel, the proud owner of a new rucksack and a wash bag with a disposable razor, a shaving stick, and a plastic dish containing a diamond encrusted bar of soap. He would not have been so cheerful if he had seen the e-mail being sent at that very moment to Essex Police, from an anonymous source in Amsterdam, tipping them off about his activities, just as Joe had instructed.

Four hours later Brian sipped a pint as he chatted to an attractive middle aged woman dressed in the classic little black dress, black shoes, and a wide brimmed black hat.

Two hours after that they were sharing a cramped cabinette and Brian was revealing other items of clothing – all of them black.

Three more hours passed, and Brian woke to find he was alone – no sleeping partner, no rucksack, and no wash bag.

He visited the toilet, then the Purser’s Office to report the theft, then the shop, where he purchased a small netted bag containing 6 marbles that weighed about the same as the diamonds, then the toilet again.

Back on dry land, Brian was nervous as he approached the rendezvous and his mood was not lifted when he was tapped lightly on the shoulder and escorted to a police car.

Twelve hours later, after an embarrassing body search, a long interview about marbles, and a rather begrudging apology, Brian Ryan left the police station and made his way home.

He entered the house by the back door, kicked off his shoes, then climbed the stairs to the bedroom where he was met by his wife, naked save for a pair of black gloves. The diamonds were cradled in her outstretched hand.

“Well well, Detective Constable Brenda Ryan – what do we have here then?”