The Palm Reader

by Christopher Bowron

  Janie tried to interrupt the tirade. “Jack, you didn’t tell him about the eagle.”

  “No!” Jack shook his head desperately.

  “What eagle?” the strong voice demanded.

  Jack’s volume lowered as he explained the dream to his grandfather.

  “If you were a little boy, I’d put you over my knee and spank you, and then send you off to the hunt camp for a week. Your cousin could be dead. You need to get back to your house. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Gramps, you’ll have to hold down the fort. We’ve a bit of business to take care of, and I need to stop at the police station on the way home to make a statement.”

  “What are you doing in Tampa?”

  “We’ve been granted a search warrant to look at a strip joint. It’s to do with the child pornography ring I told you about.”

  “A worthy cause, Jackson, but this is about family. I want you back at your house as soon as you can. We need to talk about a few things. Is the door locked?”

  “Left flower pot in the front, underneath. Gramps, what we’re doing is connected. I think these bastards are the ones who messed with Josh—that is, if it was Josh. I think they might have been after me.”

  “All the more reason to come home now. You’re in over your head.”

  “Possibly, but we called in the warrant. I have to be there. I want to see the look in the Russian’s eye when we gain entrance.”

  Lolita exclaimed, “Russians!” The word hit a nerve with her, but she said no more.

  Jack was at his wits’ end and he wasn’t well at all, a low-grade fever and headache ramping up. “Okay, that’s enough. Gramps, there is no one more upset about Josh than I am—well, maybe you—but we’re gonna do what we have to do, then be back to Ft. Myers Beach as soon as we can.”

  “So be it. We’ll be waiting for you.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  LOPEZ WOKE LATER THAT night. His head screamed. He’d been hit hard by an expert in the body’s weak points. The gunshot wound was crudely bound, his leg on fire as the pain came in unrelenting waves. He lay on an old metal cot pushed into the corner of a cell. He wasn’t in jail. You didn’t go to jail in his line of work.

  He’d been followed to the dealership, most likely from his home. Sloppy! He should have performed escape protocol, standard procedure. He deserved his fate. The end play didn’t get you the paycheck, but it kept you anonymous and alive, and able to spend it.

  A feline form in the cell two over, crouched on all fours, stared at him through the dim light of a nightlight plugged into the hallway socket. The figure’s eyes followed his every move. Where the fuck am I? He kept his eyes on the figure, sensing that showing weakness wouldn’t gain him any advantage. He was being checked out, but not in a sexual way—more the way a caged lion might look at its prey.

  The woman smiled. Yes, it was a female; he saw that now. With the dexterity of a gymnast, she stood and moved to the bars closest to Robert to sit cross-legged, her calm gaze never dropping from his. Her hair looked as if it hadn’t been combed in a month, but the untamed mop didn’t detract from her exotic beauty. Her sharp features and the thin line of her lips were expressive and wild. He knuckled his eyes, returning the smile.

  When she spoke, her voice deep, she had an Eastern European inflection. Hungarian maybe? “Why did they bring you here? You don’t look the type.” She looked eager to know.

  His voice cracked with the first few words. “Type? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “This is the dead end for strippers and sex slaves. I figure, once they don’t know what to do with you, or you cross them, they stick you down here until they can figure out . . . how to deal with you.”

  Robert nodded and thought for a few moments. “Perhaps they simply don’t know what to do with me. Now, of course it’s the Russians who you speak of.”

  She nodded. “You were sloppy; you let your guard down. They got you!”

  Robert’s hair stood up, heat flushing his cheeks. The female had pulled the thought right out of his head.

  She gave him a knowing smile. “Yes. It is possible to get out of here. I will need your help. You do wanna get outta here?”

  Robert found her last comment strangely humorous and chuckled, “Who the hell wouldn’t?” He stared at her long and hard. She seemed like some dark creature out of a paperback novel.

  “No, I’m not a creature from the abyss.”

  “Stop that.”

  Having toyed with him long enough, she let her act drop. “I’m nothing more than a Gypsy fortune teller. My mother taught me to read faces. Some are more guarded than others. Yours is like an open book at the moment. Obviously you’ve been sloppy, or you wouldn’t be here, and yes, you want out! Pretty simple when you think of it. You see, the skill in fortune-telling is in reading the client’s expressions, emotions, what they wear, how they talk. It’s easy to piece together a believable future if you know what you’re looking for. It’s in the tells.”

  Robert sighed; somehow, he felt relieved. He wasn’t stuck in his cell with a vampire. The thought crossing his mind now: Okay, so how do we get out of here?

  “There is always a way if you are smart enough to see it. If they were me, I’d simply shoot the both of us through the bars and be done with it. A bit messy, but efficient. Eli won’t do that. We have some value to him. I think my fate will be in some sick bondage snuff film. He just can’t piece it together yet. You, I don’t know. I suspect they will kill you soon. Do you have a big cock?”

  Robert laughed, his leg suddenly feeling like it might explode from the blood pressure caused by the wound.

  “Okay, you don’t. But it might have given you some time. Tell me your name.”

  “It’s Robert. And yours?”

  “I’ve been called many names, but my mother called me Zshu—Susan, in your language. Tell me how you ended up in here and maybe we can come up with a plan. Neither of us has much time.”

  “Susan, you’re not just a fortune teller. That’s bullshit. Before I tell you about myself, come straight with me.”

  She smiled, sitting up straighter. “I like to take my clothes off in front of men, more so women. I overstepped my bounds, killing a man who threatened me. Eli didn’t like that. So now, I find myself in this damned prison. Boris thinks I’m a werewolf.”

  “Not that I believe in that shit, but you had me wondering too!”

  “The look is the biggest part of it.”

  “How so?”

  “Either you go mainstream in your life’s path, or you go against the grain. If you float around in the middle, you end up a marshmallow. I’ve always taken the more difficult approach. You see, I don’t take any shit, but in the end I have no clout to back it up yet. I’m a cheap whore who needs to take her clothes off to make a buck.”

  “You are a smart woman. You should be in a better situation than this.”

  “I agree, but I’ve been driven into a corner. No way out.”

  “Always a way out. Didn’t you just tell me that a few minutes ago?”

  She smiled wide and her features softened. Susan almost looked beautiful.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “JUST AS I THOUGHT, Boris.” Eli and his right-hand man sat in the upstairs office, sipping cappuccino. Boris toyed with a biscuit and tossed it into a garbage can. The scantily-dressed girl left the room after informing them the police were at the door wishing to speak with Eli.

  Boris sighed, ashamed he’d brought trouble down on his boss. “Want me to see to this?”

  Eli shook his head, his scowl enough information. “You’ve messed things up enough. Make sure things are downplayed. Some of the Russian girls should be taken below, maybe out of here. The last thing we want is for them to be deported. Keep things light; make it look as if this visit is a normal event.”

  ****

  Eli calmly walked through to the building, etching a smile acros
s his face like he was chiseled out of rock. Approaching the plainclothes officers in the foyer he asked, “How can I help you?”

  The older of the two, of Hispanic decent, stepped forward. “Mr. Eli Romanov? I’m Lieutenant Garcia, Tampa police.”

  Eli kept the thinly-etched smile, painful as it was, and said, “I’m he.”

  “I have a warrant to search the premises and to seize all computers and drives excluding point-of-sale equipment.” He showed the warrant to Eli, along with his badge.

  Eli—having anticipated the visit and removed anything close to being suspicious from the computers—nodded and said, “I suppose I don’t have much choice, but I will ask that you respect that this is a business and don’t make the patrons or my employees uncomfortable. This isn’t my first rodeo, officer, and I know my rights. If I see anything below board, I’ll have the Tampa police sued for impropriety.”

  The officer nodded, raised his brows and turned to his partner. “Tell them to come in.”

  The second officer exited the building. Within a few minutes, the forensics team carried in bags of equipment, including cameras and cases for removing computers. Close on their heels were Janie and Jack.

  Seeing the two of them, Eli turned to Garcia and put up his hand to demand, “These two don’t come in. I’ve agreed to cooperate, but they’ve been banned from my establishments. Show me where it says anyone but officers of the law can be awarded entry. As I’ve said, Detective Garcia, I know my rights.”

  Jack flushed, ready to step into Eli’s face. Janie put her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

  “You know what’s going on, Romanov.”

  Eli smiled. “How’s the swelling on your cheek, Mister Walker? Why don’t you play your little games back home where you belong? Stick to playing with your ball, football. Am I correct? And a fucking failure at that! You’re in over your head here. No! You’re not coming in. If you try, then we will have a problem, I guarantee it.” Eli turned to Garcia. “I’d like him off the property. Now! You know I’m within my rights. I’m sure you don’t want trouble with me, no?” Eli turned back to Jack. “Besides, we don’t want anyone getting hurt!”

  “Is that a threat?” Jack turned so red that it looked as if his head might blow. “Were you at my house last night?”

  Eli shrugged, but his icy expression remained the same. “If I had been at your house, you wouldn’t be here right now.” Eli’s cruel smile fed Jack’s temper even more. “Why do you ask? Did someone get hurt? I hope so, you fucking punk!”

  The second officer stepped in and took Jack by the elbow. “Mr. Walker, it’s not worth the trouble. Wait outside, please.”

  Jack spun to get away from his hold, still trying to square off with Eli. The two looked like prize fighters. Within seconds, the cop had Jack in a full nelson, dragging him away. Jack couldn’t contain himself. “I know what you’ve done!”

  “Okay, Walker, I’ll play your game. What is it exactly that I’ve done?”

  Janie and the officer ushered him away from the door before he could answer, but there was no containing Jack. He couldn’t stop from screaming, “What the hell? I’m the one who called in this little party. I wanna see what this joker’s up to!”

  Janie scowled at him. “Are you out of your goddamned mind? You don’t know these guys. They live this shit. You’re feeding them information. That was . . . not necessary, Jack.”

  The officer who had him arm-locked released his grip and nodded. “Look, let us do our job. You will be privy to the information once it’s been assessed. I understand, these guys are scum, but they have their rights.” He looked at Jack. “Hey, I am a big fan of yours, and I know what you are capable of doing physically. Don’t listen to him. You were a great football player. This ain’t the same. Keep your cool. I’m on your side, okay?”

  Jack acquiesced, acknowledging the man’s point with a short nod back. Janie led him further from the entrance, into the lot, smiling to placate the officer. “Thank you. We’ll not be any trouble.” As they continued to the back of the parking lot, Janie let go. “Jeez, Jack, you gotta cool down. Hold your cards closer. We gained nothing by your outburst.”

  “Suppose so, but I wanted to get a look at his face when I mentioned my house. I’m not so sure I got the reaction I expected. I could tell he didn’t know what I was talking about, which leaves me a little perplexed.”

  “You’re right. Who was at your place?”

  Jack shook his head. “Only God knows.”

  They stood for a long fifteen minutes watching the activity at the entrance. All the while, Janie wished she possessed a solitary cigarette. She didn’t react to Jack poking her shoulder. She’d been able to abstain from smoking the past few days, but the stress of the past half hour intensified her craving.

  “Look at that,” he said.

  “What?”

  “The freestanding garage. You see the car coming out of it?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “We’ve been standing here for some time now, and I didn’t see anyone go into the garage. It’s not a big structure, and probably hot as hell in there. Where’d the driver come from? And it looks like there’s a person in the passenger’s seat. The car disappeared into a back exit of the parking lot.”

  “Okay?”

  “There must be another way into that garage. From below?” He looked at Janie, then headed back to the front entrance.

  Janie exclaimed, “Jack!”

  He smiled, which didn’t make her feel any better. “I’m good, I promise.” He stepped up to the officer who’d escorted them outside. Evidently, he remained to make sure they didn’t try to get back in. Like a traffic cop, he put up his hand at Jack’s approach.

  “Thought we had an understanding?”

  “No worries.” The lawman’s expression softened. “I want to make sure you find the back entrance to the garage out back.” Jack explained what he’d seen.

  “Roger that, Mr. Walker!”

  Jack returned to Janie. She said, “I don’t think there’s much more we can do here.”

  “You’re probably right.” He paused in thought. “I get the feeling they knew we were coming. I have a sicker feeling we’re not going to find anything. I need to get back to meet with Gramps, and I’m supposed to give a statement to the Lee County sheriff. Do you mind coming with me?”

  Janie smiled. “Like I said, I’m not letting you out of my sight if I can help it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  GRAMPS PULLED INTO JACK’S driveway—more so onto the front lawn, as two police cruisers and a large white van took up most of the parking. He stepped out of his Mercedes and walked to the front door with a sick feeling in his stomach. The telltale yellow tape stretching across the front indicated his worst fears might be true. Lolita followed meekly a good twenty steps behind him. A police officer standing at the house corner shuffled over after dousing a cigarette.

  “Sir, the house is cordoned off for a police investigation.”

  Gramps met his eyes. “My name is on the lease. I share it with my grandson, Jackson Walker.” He’d cosigned the lease a few years back.

  “Can I see some identification?”

  Gramps fumbled through his wallet, producing his driver’s license. The cop cross-referenced it with a sheet of paper on his clipboard. “I have you here, Mr. Portman. I still can’t allow you into the house until forensics are finished. It shouldn’t be too long.”

  “I can deal with that. May we go around back?”

  The officer spoke into his radio. “Osgood here. Say, Mike, are you finished out back? One of the tenants has returned. He’s asking for access. Okay, I’ll tell him.” He turned to Gramps. “Mr. Portman, I don’t want to alarm you, but a body has been found in the canal. You may not want to see this. I advise you to go to headquarters. We’ll need your statement.”

  Gramps regained eye contact with the man before he pronounced, “We’re going around the side of the house. That body could be m
y grandson. Do you have a problem with that?”

  The officer shook his head, suddenly unsure of himself.

  Gramps turned to Lolita and grabbed her arm. He ushered her to the rear yard, where there awaited all kinds of activity.

  “I caught that,” Lolita said.

  “Caught what?”

  “The way you manipulated that man. Our asses shouldn’t be back here right now.”

  He smiled. “I’m old; sometimes I forget that I’m doing it.”

  “You have a strong spirit, Nathaniel.”

  He ignored her comment and moved calmly across the yard and onto the dock. Again, he was stopped by an officer.

  “Hey, this is a crime scene.”

  Gramps saw the body in a Lee County Sheriff’s Department runabout tied at the dock. “This is my grandson’s house, and I have a sneaking suspicion that could be my grandson’s body.” He pushed past the man but didn’t need to get any closer. The body appeared partially eaten, by crabs and possibly small sharks. All that remained was the upper torso, head and one arm. The bloated face, while grotesque, bore enough resemblance for Gramps to identify the remains. Having held his breath on the walk back there, he now let go and heaved a deep sigh of sadness.

  Lolita took his hand into her larger ones, her question unspoken.

  “My other grandson, Joshua.”

  The officer overheard. “Are you saying you can identify the body, sir?”

  Gramps nodded.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  BY NOW, THE POLICE would be investigating Walker’s house. The old man would seek out his grandson. Leery about returning to the scene of the crime, Mason still needed to keep tabs on his quarry. He didn’t think they had put two and two together just yet. He knew the old man talked to the spirits as Mason did. That Indian shaman would detect his presence and it was only a matter of time before he figured out who Mason might be; although, if he also practiced due diligence, a call to the Louisiana State Penitentiary would tell him Mason Matye died a cruel death.