Cold Steele---and Ice

"Think he might be there tonight?" I ask hopefully.

"I checked up on this guy; Dooley's is his regular place from what I hear. Got a booth in the back that he does business out of; that booth pretty much belongs to him. Friends tell me people call him Sasquatch cause he's so big." Calvin hesitated and asked, "You not gonna blow my deal are you?"

"Calvin, there is no deal. Take my word for it. I can't tell you more or explain why, but you don't want any part of this."

"Rollie says you're a stand up guy Matt. If he trusts you I guess I can too." He nodded and added, "I'll just stay close to home and if Mr. Sasquatch wants to see me, he can come here."

"That might not be a good idea Calvin. From what I hear, Jenkins is a real ball buster."

Calvin reached under the counter, pulled out a sawed off double barrel ten gauge and laid it in front of him. "Don't care how bad or how big he is," he hefted the shotgun. "Mabel here can bring him down to size."

I smiled at the small man and the big gun. "Reckon you could bring down an elephant with Mable there. Should work for a Sasquatch." I waved and turned to leave. "Thanks for the help Calvin. I'll see you don't get hurt by it."

Guess I'll go back to my office, I thought. Think I'll go visit Mr. Jenkins this evening. Checking my watch I saw I had about 4 hours to kill; no need to get to Dooley's before 8. Characters like Jenkins don't start their night until ten or so.

It was 8:35 when I entered Dooley's Pub. The place wasn't quite as bad as The Neighborhood Tavern but damned close. I found a spot at the bar where I could put the wall at my back and ordered a beer. The bartender stared at me as he put the bottle down.

"Ain't seen you in here before," he said. "That'll be two bucks."

"First time in here. Nice place," I replied and handed him a twenty. He snorted and placed my change on the bar.

"Jenkins around tonight?" I asked and slid the change back to him.

"You mean Sasquatch?" He made the change disappear. "Naw, usually doesn't come in until around ten. You a friend of his?"

"Nope. Got a little business to transact with him."

"Mister, you be real careful dealing with that man. He's as mean as a pit bull with a stomach ache."

I talked to my new friend, the bartender, for almost two hours and two more beers. Each time I gave him a five and waved away the change.

"There he is," my new friend said and nodded toward the door.

I looked toward the front of the room and saw one of the biggest men I'd ever seen in person. Damn he has to be 6' 6 and he must weigh close to 300 pounds, I thought. None of looks like slack belly either. He looks hard and fit.

Jenkins stood in the door, turning his head to look around. I saw a receding hair line but with long blond hair worn down his back almost to his shoulders. It was tied back with what looked like a bolo tie with a silver Concho. His face had a scar running from just below his right eye down to his jaw. Jenkins swept off the leather trench coat he was wearing and handed it to his minion. When he did, I could see his big chest, shoulders and arms. All and all I couldn't think of anyone I wanted to confront less. I don't know if even Calvin's Mabel is big enough to handle him, I joked to myself.

He made his way to a large booth in the back corner. It was U shaped but the back seating area had been cut out and a larger overstuffed chair had been put in place of the rear bench seat. When Jenkins sat down the big chair looked like his throne. He motioned to the bartender and was brought a bottle of premium whiskey and a glass.

I waited until he'd had his first drink and walked over to his booth. "Mr. Jenkins I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes."

"Who are ya?" The sneer on his face told me this wasn't going to be easy.

"Names Matt Steele; I'm a private detective. I understand you...Well, let's say, came into possession of some jewelry that belongs to Hunter Blaine who lives over in Creve Coeur."

"So what if I have?"

"Mr. Blaine asked me to look into a theft at his home. If the jewelry that you have belongs to him, I'd ask you to give it to me. I'll take it back to Mr. Blaine; Oh and I also want to know who hired you to make the heist.

"What makes you think anyone hired me?"

"No way for the word to get out on the street about the contents of Blaine's safe; information had to come from an inside source. Ergo, that inside source hired you to make the heist."

"Ergo? My, aren't we educated?" Jenkins gave me what passed as a smile; more like an evil grin, I thought. "What if I don't want 'to give it to you' or this Blaine guy?"

I'd notice that Jenkins didn't say a lot; I'm very observant that way. Jenkins didn't posture or put on an act or give off a sense of bravado. Guess when you're that big, you don't have to act brave or tough, I thought. Maybe it's because you are brave and tough and big.

"It's my job to return them to Blain. If you won't return them, I'll have to persuade you."

Jenkins slowly stood. He grabbed the large metal and wood table and set it to the side so we faced each other with nothing between us. Damn table must weigh a couple of hundred pounds I thought.

"Think you can 'persuade' me?"

"Mr. Jenkins, I've never met anyone I'd rather not have to go up against than you; but I'll take you down if I have to."

Sasquatch moved extremely fast, not only for a big man but for anyone. He threw his glass at me and rushed toward me. I tried to kick him in the groin but my foot slipped on the spilled drink and I hit his stomach; it was like kicking a brick wall. Jenkins grunted but didn't stop his headlong rush. He grabbed me around the waist, picked me up, and threw me at the wall. I'd hit him with three of four good punches as he hefted me, but he acted like they were bee stings. Flying through the air, I thought, Hell this is gonna hurt. It did.

Before I could get my feet under me, he started for me again. As I stood up, Jenkins used his right hand to backhand me. I fell against the wall, rebounded and hit him across the bridge of the nose with the side of my hand. Never use your fist on a guy's head, I reminded myself.

During my career as a St. Louis Policeman, I'd taken all the self defense courses the Department offered; I'd even taken some outside training. My instructors all said the same thing; hitting a man in the head with your fist was just a collision between bones and most of the time would result in an injured or damaged hand. It was better, they taught, to use the side of your hand, sort of like a Judo chop, and save your fist for midsections and once in a while kidneys.

I heard a crack when I hit his nose and blood sprayed down his face. Other than those two things, it didn't seem to bother him. He just grunted again and continued trying to teach me a lesson; the lesson was not to screw with him. Jenkins never slowed down and hit me with another backhand; this time with his left hand. I had the strangest thought as he threw me across the room against the bar; he must have learned about not using your fist on a guy's head too. Then he picked me up, slapped me down on the bar top on my back, and slid me down the bar; glasses and bottles and anything on the bar fell to the floor. At the end he picked me up and threw me through the front screen door. It wasn't out the door, it was through the door; me and the screen hit the sidewalk about the same time. He stood in the doorway, looking at me lying on the sidewalk.

"Don't come back," Jenkins warned. "Next time I won't take so easy on you. The only reason I did was you was respectful when you started talking to me."

Easy? That was easy? I said to myself. Sure glad I was respectful; I'd hate to see his reaction if someone insulted him. I slowly and gingerly picked myself up and walked, no more like staggered, to my truck. The drive back to my place was very slow: I almost expected to be stopped by the police for obstructing traffic. I pulled myself to my door and tried to put the key into the lock. My right eye was swollen almost completely shut and my left had double vision; made things hard to see and do.

Abby must have heard me fumbling at the door and opened it. She stood there with a look of horror on her face, then quickly put my arm around her shoulders and helped me to the sofa. "What happened?" She asked as she gently lowered me to a seat.

"I ran into something that disagreed with me," I mumbled an answer. My top lip was swelling and made it hard to talk. I leaned against the back of the sofa and closed my one good eye. Abby left but returned quickly and put a bag of frozen peas on my right eye. She began to wash the blood, both mine and Jenkins, off my face. Abby was trying to be gentle and I tried to be brave but I winced almost every time she touched my face. After several minutes of doctoring and a rather large glass of Gentleman Jack, I told Abby about my entertaining evening.

She stood and started toward the telephone. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"Calling the police."

"Why?"

"I'll have that beast arrested. For assault or attempted murder or something."

"Abby, let it go. Best case, Jenkins does a little time and I still don't have the jewels."

"But...but..."

"Abby, let it go. I can't call the cops every time I get into a little scuffle; not if I want to continue to be a private detective. I'd lose what respect I've built up in the community and then no one would hire me."

"Men," Abby said in exasperation. She sat down next to me, moved the peas to the left eye and put her arms around me.

That's where I woke up the next morning. During the night, Abby and I had managed to fully stretch out on my huge sofa. I alternated between thinking about my next move and looking at my beautiful Abby; the swelling around my eyes had gone down and I could see again.

After a long hot shower and a huge breakfast I spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon recuperating; that means I took naps in between snacks. Amazing how getting your ass handed to you on a platter affects your appetite. Abby had called her office and let them know she wasn't coming in that day. Instead she hovered around and over me all day. I'd wake up from another nap and she would be sitting close watching me.

"Abby chill," I finally told her. "I'm okay; you don't have to worry about me. I've had worse and lived. Okay?"

"When?"

"When what?"

"When have you had worse?"

I had to smile at her. "Don't remember," I answered and laughed. At first she sat and stared at me with a stone face; then she laughed too.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going back to see Jenkins again tonight."

"Oh Matt," Abby protested, then stopped and looked down for a few seconds. "This time he might kill you," she softly whispered.

"He might but I don't think so. I think he kinda likes me." I had to laugh at the look on Abby's face. "Seriously, this time I won't give him the chance to hurt me."

"Are you just going to yell at him from across the room?" Abby asked sarcastically. I shrugged and she added, "I could go with you and cover your back."

"If you went with me, I'd have two things to worry about; you and Mr. Sasquatch."

"At least call Tully, or Rollie, or your detective friend Frank Wends," she suggested.

I took her hands and paused. "I can't ask for their help, not yet anyway. No, I'll go back and face Jenkins alone. If this doesn't work out then I might have to ask them for help."

"But why?"

"Several reasons. You want me to list them?" Abby nodded and I said, "First it's my job. I took a man's money and gave him my word I would help him. That's important to me. Second, remember the talk I had with James?" She nodded again. "Same goes for me. If I don't go back, I'll always wish I had; I'd always think of myself as a coward. I can't live hiding from bad people; even someone as bad as Jenkins. And third, I want, guess you call it a full measure of payback. That's it," I finished.

"Men," she repeated. "You're all little boys at heart. Got to be the toughest on the block. Got to be a macho man." She had tears in her eyes. "If you get yourself killed this time, don't come running to me for sympathy." Abby realized what she'd said and laughed in spite of herself.

"Matt, please be careful. And when you're done come back home, I'll be here waiting for you."

You know, it's difficult to make love when you're all beat to hell; but I powered through the pain and did my best.

That evening Abby watched as I was getting dressed to go see the Sasquatch again.

Most of the swelling of my face and gone down, thanks to the bags of frozen peas and other vegetables. But both eyes were a nasty shade of black and blue. The rest of the colors on my lips, cheeks and forehead were a study in violent art.

"You look like a raccoon," Abby said with a grin.

"Yeah, but I'm better than I look. Maybe I'll scare Jenkins to death."

*********************

"I thought you had more sense than to come back here," Jenkins said as I presented myself in front of his booth. The table had been put back in place and a glass and whiskey bottle was sitting on it. I shrugged my shoulders and stared at him without saying anything. "We have to go through this again?" He asked.

"Guess so," I answered. I motioned to my friend, the bartender, for a glass. When he brought it to me, I reached across the table, picked up the bottle, and poured myself a drink. "Course you could tell me what I want to know plus give me the jewels and avoid any unpleasantness."

Sasquatch stood and shook his head. "I didn't think so," I said. Turning, I placed the bottle and glass on the end of the bar. "Might as well get to it then."

It's one thing to know and remember how fast this guy was; it was another thing to have him come at you with that speed. He was almost around the table and on me before I could set myself. Jenkins threw a punch with his big right hand, but this time I was ready. Stepping to the side, I let the punch slide over my shoulder. I took another step to the side and kicked the outside of Jenkins knee. His leg buckled and he went to his hands and knees.

Before he could lever himself back to his feet, I clutched both of my hands together and brought them down hard on his neck. This time he laid out flat on his stomach. One of his companions sitting at the table stood and started toward me. I pulled my Glock and stuck it in his face.

"You really don't want to get involved in this, now do you?" The man held up his hands and sat back down.

I leaned over to Jenkins and said, "Now please tell me who hired you. And then you can give me the jewels."

"Teddy, come help me to a chair," Jenkins yelled at his companion. Teddy looked at me before he moved; he didn't want to face my Glock again. I nodded and he came over and struggled but got Jenkins into a chair.

"Fella name Taylor Barkley hired me," Jenkins told me. "Said he wanted to hurt this Blaine guy and I could keep the jewels as my pay. I figured what the hell?" Three or four hundred thousand dollars was pretty good wages so I took the deal." He cocked his head, smiled, and said, "You can understand why I hesitate to return the jewels."

I had holstered my gun and as Jenkins said his piece he pulled a Derringer out of his vest. Damn, there ain't no quit in this guy.

"Jenkins, those jewels are paste and zircons; they're fakes." I saw the disbelief on his face. "If they're close by, bring them out and I'll prove it to you."

He sat there with a skeptical look on his face, pointing the Derringer at me, for what seemed like an hour; it was probably no more than 10 seconds. "Teddy, get the stuff and bring it to me," he ordered.

Teddy left out the back door at a run. I motioned to the bartender and he brought over the Gentleman Jack and two glasses. He poured a drink for each of us and beat feet back behind the bar. Teddy came back carrying a small duffel bag. He started to hand it to Jenkins, but Jenkins motioned to give it to me.

I took the duffel and set it at my feet. Opening the zipper I took out what looked like about a four carat diamond ring. Tossing back the rest of my drink, I looked at Jenkins.

"We all know diamonds are the hardest thing in the world, right?" The big man looked interested and nodded. "If this is a diamond, it should be able to cut this glass, right?" Jenkins nodded again; I saw Teddy and the bartender nodding too.

I took the ring, held up the glass, and ran the edge of the supposed diamond across the side of the glass as hard as I could. When I finished, I handed the glass to Jenkins and then I handed him the ring. The glass was unmarked but there was a large worn down spot on the ring.

"Don't take a jeweler to know this ring is a fake," Jenkins said after looking closely at it. He threw the ring across the room and the glass followed. "Son of a bitch played me."

"Yes he did. I guess that concludes our business this evening Mr. Jenkins." I hefted the duffel and added "Think I'll take this trash and return it to its owner."

"I'll have to come see you," Jenkins said. "I won the first round, you won the second. We need to play out the rubber match."

"Sasquatch, if I see you again, I'll put a bullet in your brain." I turned and left the bar. Abby was waiting at home.

********************

"By God you did it," Hunter Blaine exclaimed. We were in my office. "And in only three days." He laughed and said, "I guess you got the best of the deal."

"You know a guy named Taylor Barkley?"

"Yeah, he's my biggest rival at the company. He's always trying to gain enough votes to take over the Board of Directors and force me out." Blaine looked troubled.

"Barkley set it up to rob your home. Guess he figured to embarrass you and take over." I thought of another thing I needed to tell Blaine. "By the way, you, me, and the guy who helped me recover the ice are the only ones that know the jewels are copies."

"That son of a bitch," Blaine said. "I'll deal with him at the next board meeting." He stood to leave. "I guess we're all square."

"Not quite," I answered. "I want you to take $5000 to a man named Jenkins; he's the one Barkley hired. You can find him at a place called Dooley's around 10PM some night; it's on the seedy end of Laclede."

"Why?"

"Without him, I'd still be looking for your jewels. You owe him."

Blaine nodded. "It's a hell of a lot less than I would have lost. I'll do it."

"One thing, when you take the money to him, take cash. I also suggest you hire a two or three off duty cops, in uniform, to go with you. Dooley's isn't the Ritz; it's not a very upscale place.

********************

"I'm glad that's over," Abby said.

We were snuggled up on my sofa, pretending to watch TV.

"Not just yet," I replied. Then seeing the look on her face, I added, "I've got one more guy to talk to. No, it's not like I talked to Jenkins. This will be very civil."

I leaned away from Abby so I could see her face. "You know, we should look for a bigger place."

"We?"

"Yeah, we. I mean my place is okay but not for two people all the time. In case you missed it, I'm asking you to move in with me. I'm tired of bouncing from one place to another and not having you here every time I come home or wake up." I paused for a few seconds. "What do you think?"

Abby answered my question in a most enjoyable, strenuous way; my injuries from the beating didn't slow me down a bit. It wasn't until the next morning and twelve or so Aspirin that we talked about what part of the city we wanted to live in.

********************

The first Monday of the month I was waiting outside of the building where Hunter Blaine's offices occupied the top floor. Taylor Barkley came out and started toward the nearby parking structure; I walked over to intercept him.