Sin City Mysteries

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I told them the whole story, starting with Lisette's wake. I didn't leave anything out except for my dreams with my lover who had smelled of bay rum. The house had been cordoned off with yellow police tape, when I took them into the house and showed them everything I'd found -- right down to the cough drop and fur mouse. I wanted to cry when they confiscated Lisette's journals for evidence.

They brought Clarice in for questioning. I caught a glimpse of her as she walked down the precinct hallway. She looked frightened and angry, but my guard dogs hustled me out before I could speak to her.

Workmen scurried around the property, repairing the damage my assailant had caused when he set fire to the pool house. It would serve the homicidal asshole right if what he'd wanted had been hidden in there.

I had four guards now instead of two. Three stern, hard looking men and one scary woman who would sleep on the couch in my bedroom. Her name was Betsy and she looked like she bench pressed Buicks for entertainment. She liked sausage pizza with mushrooms and anchovies, and could recite the entire script of Monty Python's Holy Grail. If I swung that way, I'd be head over heels in love with her. She kind of reminded me of Brigit Nielsen.

A week past as I tried to come to terms with my new normal. I couldn't afford my guards forever. There was a limit to the trust, and if the situation went on for much longer, I'd have to dig into the stash of gold Lisette had left.

Though I felt safe having them around, I hadn't seen my dream lover since the fire. I missed him, even though I knew he'd been a construct of my imagination. Sometimes, I caught a fleeting whiff of his scent, but it always faded before I could catch it.

"Betsy, I need help with a project."

We were sitting on the deck, drinking mimosas. She and I had gotten pretty close over the last several days, and she often spent her days off hanging out by the pool with me while her coworkers guarded us. I didn't have many friends who understood the subtle nuances of British humor and cheap beer. She also didn't give a rat's ass if I spent most of her off days sketching her banging body. She was the perfect artist's model; beautiful, and patient enough to stay still for long periods of time.

She tipped the sunglasses up and let them rest on her head. "What's up?"

"I want to find what that asshole was looking for."

Frowning, she sat up and turned to look at me. "You told the police you don't know what he wanted. How will you know when you've found it?"

"Not a clue, but whatever it is, he implied it's more valuable than a Crown Royal bag filled with Krugerrands."

She went quiet for a moment. "How much did the bag weigh?"

"Four pounds, eight ounces. The police counted it before they bagged it as evidence."

"Around ninety grand, then." She chewed on her lip and took a drink of her cocktail. "People have killed for less."

"I know, but I have no idea what could be hidden here. I always thought my grandmother's treasure was in the stories she had." I laughed softly, adding, "And maybe her costume collection, but that's already being curated by the burlesque museum."

Betsy patted her thighs and stood up, adjusting the shoulder holster carrying her sidearm. "Well, let's get dressed and start playing Nancy Drew, Ms. Fayne."

"Hey! I want to be Nancy!"

"Be lucky I didn't call you Bess."

I laughed as we walked inside, stopping to let Betsy check in with her counterparts.

After we'd changed, we started roaming the house. Betsy tapped walls, listening for empty spaces behind them. I moved objects that had stayed with the house. Candlesticks, lighting fixtures, books, pretty much anything I could get my hands on in the hope that one of them would trigger a secret passage.

The house wasn't that old. I had to chuckle at my wistful thinking.

After several hours of searching, Betsy flopped down on the couch in the study. "This was a lot easier in the house I grew up in," she muttered.

"How so?"

Shrugging, she said, "I grew up in southern Ohio. My parent's house used to be part of the Underground Railroad. The stove in the summer kitchen was on casters and covered up one of the passageways leading into the cellar under the barn. There was a bolt hole in almost every room and we spent time keeping them clean and safe."

"That's kind of awesome."

"Yeah, but it's work keeping those old houses. It was a blast to play hide and seek in, though."

I wouldn't know. My idea of an old house was one built before 1950. I had a hard time wrapping my head around the idea of living in a house built before 1900. "Well, there's one place I haven't looked, and the police didn't bother with it. I haven't looked in her safe."

She helped me move the credenza, politely turning around while I worked the combination.

"Lisette has some beautiful pieces, but I don't think any of them are worth more than a few hundred grand."

"Still, that's a fortune." She glanced down at the boxes and picked up a necklace box. Opening it revealed a stunning emerald necklace I remembered as being one of Lisette's favorites.

"There's maybe a million here if you count all the pieces together. Maybe this is what he wanted."

"I don't wear jewelry much. My boyfriend says he's going to buy me a dog collar instead of a wedding ring." She laughed. "He seems to think I'll forget to wear it."

"Will you?"

"Probably." She shut the box with a snap. "I'm useless with this. I have no idea what's valuable."

"It all is." I opened a familiar bracelet box containing a diamond bangle bracelet. Lisette always wore it. It was stunning, but not appreciably valuable compared to other pieces. Taking it from the box, I slipped it over my wrist. It was comforting to wear something that had been close to her.

Betsy reached into the safe, searching the corners and the bottom. "Hey, what's this?"

"What's what? Move your ass so I can see."

She sidled over to let me look inside as she pulled up the velvet lining from the bottom of the safe, revealing a flat leather portfolio. "What is it?" she asked.

"No idea. I've never seen it before." I gave it a tug and removed it from the safe. About two inches thick, the portfolio smelled of must and age. The dry leather creaked when I pried it open to reveal a deep stack of bearer bonds dating from the early forties.

"Holy fuck," Betsy whispered. "If these are still negotiable..."

I heard a soft pop of sound and Betsy's eyes widened in surprised shock as a red hole blossomed in the middle of her forehead. She let out a puff of air and fell forward into my lap. I didn't have the breath to scream before a hard hand pulled me to my feet.

"I knew you'd find it if I gave you enough time."

"You..." I couldn't breathe. I couldn't cry. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't do that either. All I could do was stare into the face of a man I didn't know who would kill me over a stack of paper that probably wasn't worth anything.

"Me, bitch." He grinned and pressed his lips against mine, his teeth bruising and hard.

I bit down on his lip and tore my head away, leaving him bloody. He cursed and backhanded me, knocking me against the desk. It took all I had to stay on my feet. I might die today, but I was going to stand up for it. He would not get me on my knees again.

Reaching behind me, I searched the desk for something to use against him but found nothing. "I'll give you that portfolio. Walk away. Nobody's name is on those bonds, and I have no way to trace them. You can take them and go."

He lifted his gun, leveling it at my forehead. "See, that's where you're wrong. You'll still know, and I'm not about to leave any loose ends."

I heard the scratch of metal across wood and my fingers touched Lisette's letter opener. Curling my fingers around it, I pulled my hand in and steeled myself.

"I'm not a loose end. Even if I tell, you'll get off scot free. I have no proof that you were here."

The gun wavered. "I should leave you. You'll have four dead bodies to explain. Might be fun to see how you get out of that." He shrugged, making the gun waver once more.

I heard an explosion of sound and a felt a punch to my chest as I plunged the letter opener into his heart.

###

I sat with him on a bench outside a Dublin pub. Temple Bar was lively and raucous, at odds with our solemnity. His hand was warm, covering my smaller one completely. The silence was comforting, though we had so much to say to each other.

He leaned back and sighed then pulled my hand to his lips and kissed my palm. His beard tickled but I didn't pull away. Gray no longer silvered his hair, and his skin was unlined.

"I loved her at first, you know."

"I do."

He glanced at me, his blue eyes questioning. "Do you? I wonder if she did."

"She loved you. She hated you, too, I think."

"Sometimes the feeling was mutual. I didn't love her enough to give up my life. She didn't love me enough to give up hers. I let her go, and then..." He cut himself off. "Well, you know what happened."

"She forgave you." I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "And she brought you to me."

"So she did," he murmured. "I've loved you since you were child, Anais. Did you know that?"

"That's a little creepy, Henri." I shivered at the thought, though I didn't think he meant what he'd said.

Laughing, he said, "No, not like that." Sobering, he added, "And I shouldn't laugh. Such things are not amusing. I meant to say that I loved you because you were a part of her. The part that was honest and open without artifice. You ignored a society that bound you into place against your wishes."

I said nothing and let him speak.

"I was not pleased when Lisette chose to bear a child, but you are the part of both of us we didn't find with each other, beloved. I wonder, perhaps..." He shook his head and smiled. "You'll find this silly."

"Tell me anyway."

"I wonder if things happened to bring me to you. God, or karma, or whatever power that commands us had to surmount time to bring us together."

"Does it matter?" I touched his jaw, turning him to face me. "We're together now."

"Indeed." He lowered his lips to mine, taking them in a sweet kiss that made my toes curl as his tongue dueled with mine.

Pulling away, he asked, "Where would you like to go, beloved?"

"Anywhere, so long as you're there."

He smirked and tapped my nose. "Have you ever been to Greece?"

Laughing, I let him help me up and we walked down the street, vanishing into mist no one noticed.