Gray Days and Wicked Ways, page 6
part #4 of Layton Shayne Mystery Series
“You’re starting to make me nervous, Layton,” Alex said.
“I’m making you nervous. I’ve fought on a battlefield and this whole thing has me nervous and concerned.”
Chapter 9
Information Overload
WE’D WALKED OFF some of our tasty lunch going to the store that was holding our snow globes and Alex went inside to get our goodies while Sassy and I talked outside.
“I didn’t think the Roman Catholic Church had much of a foothold in Russia historically,” I said.
“They didn’t have much of one, and the bishop we’ve been talking about didn’t alter that, nor was his mission to change the church’s standing in Russia,” Sassy said, then blew on her pinwheel yet again. She looked at me watching her, and smiled my way. “I’m out of gum. Going back to the bishop—he wasn’t one of the good ones. Daddy says the bishop was specifically sent to a small church in Russia in order to get his hands on the goodies we’re now after.”
“The bishop was definitely not one of the good ones,” I said.
“Give me the quick version of the story about your new man,” Sassy said.
Alex was clearly lingering in the store to give me and Sassy time to talk alone, so I managed to fill her in on Forrest while Alex was still inside.
“You and Alex do have the luck, Layton. I just don’t know whether it’s good luck or bad.”
“Neither,” I said. “It just is what it is. Forrest is decent and handsome… and the three of us fit together well, believe it or not. Although, I do remember someone—not you, telling me I shouldn’t be so wary of the number three or it would continue to show up in my life.”
“It is just a number,” Sassy said.
“I’ve heard that before… several times.”
“Who knows, maybe three really is your number and things are playing out as they’re supposed to—you know what they say about stranger things happening?”
“I know,” I said. “But, things seem pretty strange, as is.”
“Oh, please, this is nothing. You’re freelance with the organization and getting ready to work alongside me on a job—you might as well throw normalcy out the window. The strange and unusual will be part of your daily life from now on… or didn’t you realize that after your first case with the organization.” She looked at my expressionless face, then continued. “You didn’t comprehend the full extent of things, did you? Don’t worry about that… nobody ever does understand just how crazy things can get until they’re smack in the middle of it. You’re not off your game, are you, Layton?”
“No. My mind is still thinking about the throng of people who will descend on this Shiloh Key place. Crowds of civilians mixing with ex military and mercenary types is a recipe for disaster.”
“Oops, silly me,” Sassy said. “Did I forget to mention that there’s a cap on the number of people they’re letting into Shiloh Key?”
“Yes, actually you did. Can they legally do that?”
“Oh sure. They’re applying the same rules they would use for a parade or street party. Even for New Year’s Eve they close Times Square in New York to the public after a certain number are allowed in—crowd control and all that.” I let out a sigh of relief and Sassy heard it. “You really were worried there would be tens of thousands there, weren’t you?”
“I was.”
Alex exited the store with two bags and a smile on his face. “Are we all set to walk Sassy to her car?” he said.
“Y’up,” I said. “Thanks for giving us some alone time.” I patted Alex on the back and took one of the bags from him. “Sassy, tell us about Shiloh Key while we walk.”
“OK. There’s really not much there, just a big hotel, a few restaurants, and some shops on the dock overlooking the water. There’s a small strip of stores on land, bike and boat rental places, a few mom and pop motels, a gay trailer park, and a couple of bait shops.”
“That really doesn’t sound like much,” Alex said.
“Shiloh Key is on the Gulf of Mexico, has beautiful beaches, and lots and lots of nature trails,” Sassy said.
“A gay trailer park?” I said.
“Were you expecting The Ritz, perhaps?” Sassy said, then laughed. “Poor Layton, I thought you were more the roll with it type.”
“Maybe approaching fatherhood is having an effect on me,” I said.
“The Diony effect will throw you for a loop too,” Sassy said. “As soon as someone brings you two the blue cure, take it fast. It won’t be fun, but you’ve got to clear your minds before we go to Shiloh Key.”
We passed The Secret Garden Tea House and Sassy pointed to the parking area across from it. I spotted her Mustang right away.
“You’re gonna have one helluva job clearing the weapons out of this car before you go to Shiloh Key,” I said.
“I’m not taking my baby to Shiloh Key,” Sassy said. “Daddy’s sending me a loaner jeep.” She took her car clicker out of her straw bag, hit a button, and unlocked the driver’s side door. “I’ll pick you two up in front of the inn’s registration area. We need to be at the auction house at least an hour ahead of time, so I’ll be at the inn an hour and a half before that.”
“We’ll be ready,” I said.
“Oh, Sassy,” Alex said, “Layton and I got you a gift earlier. That’s why we stopped at the snow globe store—to pick it up.” He removed a box from the bag he held.
“I just love gifts!” Sassy said, as she took the box from Alex and opened it. A couple of seconds later her eyes lit up and she smiled. “I love it! The pinup girl is even sitting on the front of a Mustang.” She squealed. “Thanks so much for thinking of me… I love you, boys!” Stepping forward, she gave us each a hug. “I’ve had a good time, but I need to get going. Here’s the auction catalog for you to look over. It has a lot more information and details that I didn’t have a chance to tell you.” Reaching into her bag, she produced the catalog and handed it to me.
I opened Sassy’s car door, she slid into the seat, then blew us each a kiss. After I closed the door, she lowered her window and spoke to me.
“Be good and try to get some rest if you can.”
We waved good-bye to Sassy as she drove away, then headed back to the inn.
“I think Sassy liked her gift,” Alex said.
“There was no doubt of that the way her eyes lit up when she opened the box. We did good,” I said.
AS WE WALKED down our hallway, I noticed our room door was open, and there was a maid’s cart to the side of it. Alex looked at me, I motioned for him to stay back, and slowly walked to our room.
“It’s just me,” Natasha said, as I poked my head inside the room.
I was glad we’d left Brandon’s remote controlled toy in my truck—that way Natasha hadn’t accidentally stumbled upon it. I waved Alex over, then walked casually into the room.
“There are plenty of towels in the bathroom for you,” Natasha said, then walked to the bed, picked up a manila envelope, and brought it to me. “Someone slid this under your door before I got here.”
As I looked at the front of it, Alex peered over my shoulder.
“Your name’s written on the front,” Alex said.
My attention turned to Natasha and I gave her an inquisitive look.
“It was here when I arrived to clean the room, but I recognize the handwriting on the front—its Chef Brogna’s writing.”
“What does he want?” I said, not to anyone in particular.
“Don’t be stupid,” Natasha said. “Baker’s onto you or at least suspects you want to help Melinda, and he’s gotten Brogna involved somehow.”
“Thank you for being so forthcoming,” I said.
“We aren’t a bad lot around here, but Baker holds the reins in this place and can tighten them on all of us whenever he wants,” Natasha said, gathering up the cord to the vacuum cleaner and hooking it back onto the handle. “You must know that to a certain extent—that’s why you helped me yesterday. Baker is no fool… and if he’s set his sights on you, then you’d better watch your back, Detective Shayne.”
Chapter 10
A Russian Ally?
“THANKS FOR THAT advice, I’ll heed it, and watch myself,” I said, then tossed the manila envelope on the bed, reached into my bag from the snow globe shop, and took the auction catalog out of it. I flipped through it while I spoke to Natasha, trying to be casual. “What do you know about this treasure hunt at Shiloh Key, Natasha?”
“I wouldn’t go anywhere near it, is what I know. My son’s class wanted to take a field trip there but I vetoed the idea along with the other parents, so the trip was cancelled.”
“That was a smart move on the part of you and the other parents,” I said. “The place is going to be overrun by crazy folks who’ll be driven mad for treasure.” “The allure of all that gold changes people and turns them ugly.”
“Are the two of you headed there?” Natasha said.
“Unfortunately,” I said. “I owe a friend or I wouldn’t go near the place.” The photo of the piece up for auction was staring me in the face as I looked down at the catalog. “Natasha, could you do me a huge favor and take a look at this picture?”
Natasha silently walked up to me and looked at the picture in the book, She traced the outline of the cylindrical sheet of metal with her finger, then spoke.
“Pictures have been engraved on the top of the cylinder along with numerous hole punches. Most everyone can see that and will assume it’s a map of some sort, which it probably is. But very few will have noticed the Russian letter poking from the bottom corner of said cylinder.”
I looked at the picture closer, spotted what looked like a plain scribble, then turned back to Natasha.
“Thank you,” I said. “You aren’t just a maid, are you?”
“I wasn’t,” Natasha said. “I used to be an architect, but life has a way of changing when you least expect it. My company relocated and because of circumstances beyond my control I had to take whatever job I could find in this area.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
“That actually sounded sincere,” Natasha said, then was quiet for a moment. “It’s not that I’m jaded, Mr. Shayne… life just has me a bit beaten down at the moment. I’m keeping my feelers out job-wise, but I need someplace willing to work around my unpredictable schedule. That’s difficult to find at present.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I said.
“Helping Brandon and his mother will help a lot of us around here. I’m curious to see that auction item up close… I’m a bit of a history buff. If you want, I can go with you and translate the writing. It’s a very old and obscure form of Russian. One of the men on the boat that sunk must’ve been from Russia and he probably made the cylindrical metal map for the pirates before they were slaughtered.”
“You certainly know your history,” Alex said.
“Everyone for miles around Shiloh Key knows the story, just not as many of the details. I know some of the little things because I’m Russian and I have the right background to understand them.”
“I’m surprised you’re not going to try for the treasure then,” Alex said.
“I thought about it, but my son needs one functioning parent around for him,” Natasha said. “Your partner’s right about how things will get at the key… people will be risking a lot for just the chance at possibly getting a little. Besides, the church those treasures came from in Russia was considered cursed. I don’t need any more bad luck in my life.”
“Spoken like a smart woman,” I said. “The only reason I’m going is because I agreed to help the friend I mentioned without getting the details first.”
“Lesson learned?” Natasha said.
“Oh yeah,” I said. “Although, I’m not entirely sure I could’ve refused her even if I’d known the facts.”
“That’s your bad luck, then,” Natasha said. “What time do I need to be here on auction day?”
I told her the time and Natasha agreed to meet us on the porch of the main building. She then gathered her cleaning supplies, said good-bye, and left.
“That was a stroke of luck,” Alex said. “You’d been saying we needed someone who could translate Russian.”
“I’m going to give Sassy a quick call and tell her the news.” I punched in her number on my cell, but got voice mail, so I left a message with my news about Natasha. Once that was done I opened the manila envelope.
“I’ve been waiting for you to open that,” Alex said. “What’s inside?”
I sat on the bed and pulled a photograph out of the manila envelope. It showed a man who bore a striking resemblance to Jack Baker, but was better looking, sitting back in a chair. On his lap was a naked woman with her large breasts in his face. After peering at it for a second, I handed the photo to Alex who was standing next to me, then got a note out of the envelope and read it.
“Our friendly Chef Brogna has invited us to his house for drinks and snacks by the pool,” I said. “He says this is his night off and he has information which we may find useful.”
“It’s as obvious a setup as this picture is a fake,” Alex said. “The image of the woman was at some point superimposed on top of the picture of the man. Most people should be able to spot the pic’s not the real thing.”
“Most, but not all,” I said. “You’re an expert photographer and not a distraught woman concerned that her husband cheated on her. That concern having been fueled by a nasty piece of work brother-in-law.”
“Are we going to the chef’s house?”
“We are,” I said. “You know how much I love chefs. There were the guys at Shelby who made those fantastic cinnamon rolls, and Jimmy who’s superb at what he does and isn’t too far from where our permanent home of Carson Court is located.”
“You have met a few chefs, haven’t you? But how friendly is this one?”
“I’m guessing, despite this being a setup, that he’s alright.”
“Can I come along?”
“Sure,” I said. “I caught how you said ‘we’ a second ago and I did reply with ‘we’. But even friendly people can do terrible things, so we need to be cautious. I know you can fight, I saw your match with Forrest, but if there’s gunfire at the chef’s, then take off. Promise me you’ll do that, because I can’t look out for myself if I’m worried about you.”
“I promise,” Alex said. “Are you worried something bad’s gonna happen?”
“One never knows, but it’s best to be prepared for anything,” I said.
Chapter 11
Fast Friends
“HOW SHOULD WE dress to go to the chef’s house?” Alex said.
“The invitation sounded casual. Shorts, T-shirts, and flip-flops should do.”
“Are you going to take your gun inside with you?”
“Nope, it stays in the truck. The Chef’s no baddie, someone’s yanking his strings… or reins like Natasha said. It’s still early, I could use a quick nap.”
“The walk and then all that food did us in.”
“I’m sure,” I said, then slid over on the bed, lay down, and held my hand out to Alex who joined me.
We both slept soundly, and after waking we took turns in the shower before dressing for our appointment with Chef Brogna.
THE DIRECTIONS IN the invitation from the Chef were very good and his home was close by the inn, so we found it easily. It was just a few blocks to the left of the Mt. Ore Inn, located on a pretty residential street with large trees, well-manicured lawns and picture-perfect looking cottages. I parked in front of number 3210, and Alex and I got out of the truck.
“This neighborhood is nice,” Alex said. “Check out the chef’s lawn and garden.”
The lawn felt thick and soft under my flip-flops and I slipped my foot out a minute to feel it. “That is lush.” The front yard was small but a nicely trimmed hedge and a full garden framed the front of the house. We walked up three short steps to the front door and I knocked.
“Come in,” a man’s voice said.
“Stay behind me, Alex,” I said, then slowly opened the door.
It was somewhat dark inside, but in front of me I could see a handsome, Latin-looking man with short, wavy brown hair wearing skimpy, and sheer bikini briefs. He did some muscle man type poses for me, then turned. His full ass was nicely displayed in the thong back of the briefs. They were going for the old seduce the detective trick. I checked the guy out some more—he had a nice chest, legs, arms, and gorgeous tan feet shown off to perfection in black flip-flops.
“Layton?” Alex said.
“It’s alright, come on in, Alex,” I said. “They’ve opted for the seduction route.”
“Huh,” Alex said.
“Didn’t the invitation say to come alone?” the Latin guy said to me.
“Actually Chef Brogna omitted that small point,” I said.
“Oh, shit,” the Latin guy said then sassily put his hand on his hip and shouted to someone in back. “Honey, you screwed the whole thing up.”
“He did get us here,” I said.
The Latin guy let out an exasperated sigh, then turned the lights on.
“Very nice,” I said. “The room’s not bad either, Mr.—”
“Michael Rodriguez Brogna,” the Latin man said. “I’m glad you like… everything. At one point I fancied being an interior decorator. And I owe the body to going to the gym religiously .”
“It works for you,” I said, then looked around the room. The walls were a pale, sleek gray and the furniture was white. Accessories and tables were done in white or brushed steel. “You really did do a great job in here, Michael.”
“Thanks, but it’s a tough business to get into, so I’m studying photography now.”
I made a note of that comment, as I heard someone curse from another room in the house.
“Oh shit!” Chef Brogna said as he walked into the room wearing a sheer black caftan. His pale skin was very visible underneath, as was the black thong he wore. Unlike Michael, he had black slippers on his feet. “I was so busy making sure to write the directions down so they’d be understood that I forgot the part about coming alone. Oh fuck it all to hell and back!”
