by David Stever
“Scott told me what happened. Did she really shoot you with the stun gun?”
“Yes.”
“Right where he said? You know…”
“I do, and yes, it was brutal. And humiliating. I have ointment.” That brought another smile, but tears welled. “Katie?”
She wiped her eyes with a napkin, drew in a breath. “I did not listen. You said time and again that this job was real, not like on TV, that it can be dangerous, and the people we deal with are the worst. You told me to not confuse fantasy with reality, and I did. I thought this was the coolest job anywhere—a private eye, investigating, spying on people, figuring out their schemes, working with the FBI, and…we work out of a bar. You and Mike are the most amazing guys ever, but I can’t do it anymore.”
Her forearms rested on the table and her head hung. Tears dropped. I got up and slid in on her side and put an arm around her. She laid her head on my chest and sobbed. “The whole time Mrs. Bellamy and I were tied up, all I thought about was the black bag and the stun gun…never so scared in my life…and I never dreamed you were in the house and that she used the gun on you…and I thought Eric was dead and it was all my fault. I got him into this mess…”
“If not for Eric, they would not have found us. No doubt in my mind she would leave us there to rot. Me, anyhow. He saved the day, and he knew what he was getting into. Granted, he didn’t think it would escalate to the level it did.”
“Him lying there, blood everywhere…too real…Mike held his shirt on him to stop the bleeding, for God’s sake…and I couldn’t believe the amount of blood coming out of him. I’m not supposed to be involved in shootings…people being hurt. I should be in some lame office somewhere…like my friends with their boring jobs. Who am I kidding? I’m done, Johnny. I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.”
“Your thinking saved us. You distracted the Russian and set events in motion—”
“And what if George’s gun didn’t go off? Huh? That was just stupid luck. We would all be dead.”
I didn’t have much of a response, because she was right. Was it stupid luck? Maybe not. Quade and his men were on their way to the farm, probably resulting in some sort of standoff.
I threw down some bills and kept an arm around her as we left the diner and hailed a taxi. During the cab ride, I tried telling her how brave and smart she was, but it fell short. She needed time.
She agreed to crash at my place. I heard the shower come on so I poured two glasses of an expensive cabernet. I’m not too skilled in talking people through tough situations, but I knew I would need to give her time to work through the ordeal on her own. I wanted her to know that our lives as investigators were not all guns, violence, and death. Those were the exceptions.
The shower turned off and after ten minutes passed, I peeked in the bedroom and she was in bed, covers pulled to her chin, out to the world.
I took both glasses of wine out to the balcony and gently lowered myself into my lounge chair. I sipped the wine and let it travel through me to warm my insides. The events of the past two days played through my head: being drugged, tied up, tortured by Keira and her stun gun, and rescued through the ingenuity of Eric.
Keira was my Rosa Klebb, the Bond villain in From Russia with Love. Except Rosa used a knife that popped out of her shoe, not a stun gun. I laughed that a 007 reference would flash in my mind. Maybe I was the one who confuses fantasy with reality? Or was it the wine talking? At any rate, I had a big I told you so heading my way. Mike warned me to not get involved with the feds and I ignored him.
I finished the second glass of wine and thanked God that Katie, Eric, and Mike were alive. I said a prayer for George Ainsley, too. He was the real victim in this. Mary Ann would survive—she has a lot of years left—but George did not. The mistake he made would be an unfortunate blemish on a stellar career. I prayed the courts would go easy on him and see him for the brilliant scientist that he was. His mistake? He answered the seductive call of the siren—not the first man to do so, and he won’t be the last.
I could not fight off sleep any longer so I went back inside, took a blanket from the closet and stretched out on the sofa and closed my eyes.
Katie was right. It was crazy luck that his gun went off.
Serendipitous.
48
“PI Dude!”
A young nurse with short blonde hair tended to Eric. “Erica, meet Johnny, my boss. The PI I told you about. Johnny, this is Erica, my personal nurse. Can you believe it, Eric and Erica. Fate, dude—fate. We’re soul mates.”
She was cute in her blue scrubs and smiled as she worked, amused by her patient. “We are not soul mates. We just met three hours ago. And I am not your personal nurse.”
“Dollface, you felt it immediately, just like I did. What are the chances I am brought in here after a vicious gun battle, riddled with bullets, clinging to life, and the first thing I see when I wake up is your gorgeous blue eyes? PI Dude, look at her eyes.”
Erica blushed and shook her head. “You weren’t almost dead and the surgeon removed all the buckshot.” Two IV bags hung from a rack, tubes snaked into his arms, and a machine monitored his vitals.
“I thought I was in heaven because an angel was looking down on me.”
“I am an angel, and I might even show you my wings, but only if you behave. Now lie back and rest.”
“PI Dude, I get a peek at her wings.”
She faced me. “Is he always like this or is it the pain killers?”
“No, this is mild. He’s usually quite talkative.”
“Is it true he’s in a band?”
“An amazing bass player in a smokin’ hot band. He’s also a world-class computer expert, and works for me as an undercover PI.” Eric pumped his fist in the air behind her back.
She crossed her arms over her chest and turned to him. “Well then, I’m impressed.”
“Angel—” Eric tried to sit up in the bed but a pain knock him back. “Whoa.”
“Lie still.” She checked the IV bags and adjusted the drip on one of the lines. “I’m turning up the juice. You need to sleep.”
“Dollface, I wouldn’t tell you any stories. I’m the real deal…and this guy, he’s the most righteous dude on the planet.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” She picked up his chart. “I’ll be back.” She stopped in front of me. “He was extremely lucky. He lost some blood, and most of the wounds were superficial, except for a few where they had to dig deep, but the doctor predicts a full and speedy recovery.”
“Great news! He was a hero yesterday. No joke. If not for him, I wouldn’t be standing here now. I owe him my life,” I said.
“Wow, Eric, I am in the presence of greatness. A real live hero.”
“Right and we need to celebrate…as soon as I’m out of here. Me and you…those gorgeous blues are sending me signals. You can’t argue with fate.”
“I don’t date patients.” She winked at me. “Make sure he sleeps.”
She breezed out of the room and Eric yelled after her. “Ahhh, my pain just got worse. C’mon, me and you. A night on the town.”
She popped her head back in the door. “Maybe. Stop talking.” She disappeared again.
“Yes! PI Dude, she is my angel.”
I stood at the foot of his bed. “Your angel is Katie. Stayed here until you were out of surgery and wouldn’t leave until she knew you were going to be okay.”
“Katie girl. Where is she? I want to see her.”
“She crashed at my place but was gone when I got up.”
The meds kicked in and his eyes closed. “She and Big Mike saved me.”
“They did, computer dude. They did.”
***
Scott Quade and Maria Ortiz were at McNally’s when I got back. It was after two and the lunch rush was over. We squeezed into my booth and I gave Quade my account of the past forty-eight hours.
“We all admit we needed a presence in the park,” he said. “I’m sorry you
went through what you did. I feel responsible. I brought you into this.”
“You didn’t force me. Matter of fact, it was a bit of a rush. Could have done without the stun gun, though.”
Ortiz winced. “As bad as it sounds?”
“Well, she stuck it in a rather delicate area.”
“He has ointment,” Quade said.
“We’re back with the jokes? Maybe you want to help me put the ointment on my burns?”
“Yeah, Scott, why don’t you help him?” She jabbed him in the ribs.
“Shut up.”
Mike brought a round of beers and a couple baskets of chicken wings. “Right on time, partner. I was about to shoot an FBI agent.”
“That’s fine by me, but I want to know if anyone has heard from Katie,” Mike said. “She hasn’t answered any of my calls.”
Quade pulled a basket of wings in front of him. “I tried too. She went through quite an ordeal and I’m concerned.”
“Give her time. I’m happy to talk to her. Female to female, but she also needs to process it on her own,” Ortiz added.
“Appreciate that,” I said.
“My main dude, Eric. How is he?” she asked.
“Full recovery in store. He’s flirting with the nurses and he’ll have stories to tell for years,” I said. We toasted to Eric and his brilliance. “What about Bellamy?”
“Can’t stop crying,” Quade said. “Told us how he fell in love with Keira. Thought she was his future.”
“Charge him?”
“Not yet. Need to figure out if he was a victim or an accomplice. All we know for sure is he was an idiot.”
Ortiz smirked. “Like most men.”
Quade elbowed her. “Drink your beer.”
“Ainsley?” I asked.
“Our real victim. It was the classic Russian honey trap. She lured him with sex and he fell hard. Single man, never had a relationship—she showed him some attention, promised him a life, and he lost his mind. Still deciding on charges. Even if he skips on any espionage charges, he did help orchestrate the assault on the house and the abduction of Katie.”
“Keira tell you this?”
“She’s singing like a songbird from her hospital bed. Scared to death of being sent back to Russia.”
“She’ll be dead within a week if she’s sent home.”
“If she’s lucky. Early reaction from the State Department is to try to use her as leverage. For what, I don’t know.”
“If we keep her here?”
“Charged with espionage against the United States for starters. I’m sure she can make a deal if she gives up names. Russian mobsters, other active agents in the US. Two uniforms are stationed in front of her room until she is discharged, then we take her into custody.”
“So the cold war is alive and well?”
“Never ended.”
“What about Bellamy Space?”
“Department of Defense will step in and assess the damage, if any. Your boy Eric really is a genius. He opened the file for Keira, but he added some sort of a self-destruct mechanism. After sixty minutes, the file disappeared. He stumped our tech guys.”
I shook my head in amazement. “I need to keep him on the payroll.”
“Or we do.”
The agents said they needed to get back to the hospital for another Keira questioning. As we got up from the booth, Quade pulled me aside.
“Does she have a boyfriend? Katie, I mean. I was thinking of asking her out. If you approve.”
“First, I’m not her dad, and boy, you are slow. She gave you every signal.”
“I’m kind of a meathead when it comes to girls. Women. She is…pretty, and I like her. She makes me laugh.”
What is it about women that turns men to mush? This guy was well over six feet tall, chiseled like a Greek statue, and when he talked about Katie, he couldn’t get a word out without blushing?
“She would like that. Call her. You have my blessing, my son.”
“Thanks.” He shook my hand. “I’m coming back here for beers.”
“Only beers. I’m not helping you anymore.”
“Deal.”
I made my way to the bar and gently eased my burns on a stool, where Mike had a bourbon waiting. I wasn’t there two minutes when Mary Ann Bellamy walked in. She put an arm around me and we embraced, then hopped up on the stool next to me.
“Want a table? You don’t seem like the type who sits a bar.”
“Never was, but now change is in order, Johnny.”
“I hope positive.”
“I decided to make it positive. What happened to me was something I never would have dreamed. Him having an affair was bad enough, but the woman was a Russian spy? Beyond belief.”
Mike put a white wine in front of her. “Mary Ann, happy to see you’re okay.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you’re okay, too. Can I ask a favor, though?” She pushed the wine to him. “Could I get—” She looked at me. “A gin and tonic.”
“Yes ma’am. Coming right up.” Mike took her glass.
“It is a new day,” I said. “I’m impressed.”
She smiled. “A difficult day, but I’ll make it. I have my friends and my son to lean on. They’ll get me through and I’ll be fine. But I am here to thank you for what you did, and to apologize for creating all this mess.”
I waved it off. “Not your fault. You did nothing wrong. Did Tom contact you?”
“They let him call me. He was all apologetic, says he is sorry, wants me to forgive him, and talked about us starting over.”
Mike set the drink in front of her.
“And?”
“I’m the one who needs to start over. Katie and I were held hostage, you were hurt, the poor kid Eric was shot, my uncle was humiliated and ruined, other men are dead, all because of his recklessness.” She took a sip of her drink. “Ooh, strong. Good, I need it.” She took a second sip. “Time I took care of myself.”
“I’ll drink to that.” We clicked our glasses.
“You know, in some bizarre way, something changed for me when I shot Keira with that stun gun. I’ve never done anything like that before in my life. It gave me some sort of… satisfaction…or empowerment that I have never felt before.”
“It set you free, didn’t it?”
“It sure as hell did.”
49
“Katie. This is my last message. The incident at the farm was almost three weeks ago and Mike and I have sent you many messages. At the very least, we should talk about what happened. You were scared, but you did not act scared. You were brave, and smart, and strong. You and Mike saved Eric’s life. If you decided this work is not for you and have moved on, I understand. I want you to know you always have a job with us. We want to make sure you are okay. We love you and we are always here for you. Johnny.”
I sent the text message while I sat in my car in the parking lot of Joey Mac’s, where Mike and I decided we needed to blow off some steam. Let someone else serve us for a change. The absence of Katie in our lives was tough at first. We loved having her around, her sexy physical presence—we admit we are still lecherous—but in a way, we grew to love her as a daughter, too. Neither of us had children so she filled that void. We became quite protective of her.
We missed her laugh, and her goofiness, and her non-stop talking—never thought we would miss that—and her zeal for the work, both in the bar and helping me. We even named the gourmet grilled cheese sandwich, The Katie. Mike got the hang of making it and it is now our best-seller.
Scott Quade gave up on her, too. He stopped by McNally’s a week ago for a drink and asked for her. She never returned any of his calls. He figured the entire ordeal shell-shocked her to the point where any association with any of us brought her right back to that day. He might be right. I did not think it was healthy for her to not talk about it, and I’m not one for shrinks, but I would pay for her to talk to a professional.
I slipped my phone into my pocket and went into Joey M
ac’s. Mike sat at the bar and had a head start on me. I took the stool next to him and the loud, rotund, former police sergeant came with a bourbon and a draft beer.
“Boilermaker for my buddy.” Joey Mac set the drinks in front of me.
“Thank you, my friend.”
“Johnny, word is you got your chestnuts roasted.”
I shot Mike a look to kill and he busted out with a laugh. “Is nothing sacred these days?” I said.
“No, what happened to you is too good to not talk about. I had to tell Joey.” Mike raised his mug. “A toast to your chestnuts.”
“I’ll never live it down.” I threw back the bourbon and lifted my beer and toasted with Mike and Joey. “To my chestnuts, may they only experience love and kisses from this day forward.”
We moved the party to a booth in the back of Joey’s bar where he, the quintessential raconteur, regaled us with stories from his thirty years in the department. We heard most of them a hundred times over the years, but nevertheless, we howled with laughter and told a few of our own. We sat, drank, and reminisced for over an hour when my cell buzzed.
I opened the phone. A text from Katie—a picture. The selfie she took of me and her when we first surveilled Keira and Bellamy at the Dark Side. Our cheeks were pressed together with wide smiles. It made my night. I showed Mike and we raised a glass to Katie and both proclaimed she would be back. I hoped.
I went one more round with my two police comrades—since the Keira job, Mike and I called each other comrade—then announced I was not paying for anything. Joey proclaimed my money wasn’t good there anyhow. I got up and we mafia hugged, Mike saying he had room for at least two more beers.
Joey whispered to me, “Don’t worry, I have a cot in the back for him.”
I got back in my car and my phone buzzed again. This time a voice mail from Brynne.
“Hi handsome, it’s Brynne. I’m sure you remember me. I was thinking you should come by my place tonight. I thought we had…something, plus I need to apologize. Properly. Mary Ann told me what happened and I hope you are doing well. Anyhow, I’m about to make my world famous gin and tonics and I know you want one. C’mon over. I guarantee an evening you won’t forget.”