Bullets and Blondes

by Clark Graham

  Bullets and Blondes

  Clark Graham

  elvenshore.blogspot.com

  elvenshore@gmail.com

  Bullets and Blondes

  © Clark Graham 2016

  All Rights Reserved

  Be sure to check out the sample chapter of Moon Over Mykonos at the end of this book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Books by Clark Graham

  Sample Chapter

  Moon Over Mykonos

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 1

  It doesn’t mean anything. Barry Hibbard tried to reassure himself as he looked at all the pottery pieces spread across the floor. He had known better than to leave the vase on the pedestal after the last close call. Instead of putting it in a safer spot, he had become more particular as to who he allowed over. This guest, however, was uninvited.

  He turned back towards her. She was beautiful, with penetrating blue eyes and smooth skin. Blond hair stuck out past the edges of the gray hoodie. Her features reminded him of a porcelain doll, but, unlike most porcelain dolls, this one had a shotgun.

  When he heard the crash, he was almost asleep. It was something that took more and more effort after all the stresses he had endured during the past year. He had grabbed a baseball bat out of the hall closet and then tiptoed down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he’d flipped on the light, revealing the intruder. She pointed the gun at him. Instinctively he dropped the bat and raised his hands over his head.

  “Where’s the Rex battery?” she demanded.

  “The what?”

  “Don’t play stupid with me, buddy. I want the battery.”

  “I am stupid. I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  Propping the shotgun on her hip, she creased her forehead, pulling a crumpled slip of paper out of her pocket. “This is 2471 Country Club Lane, right?”

  He motioned with his head, leaving his hands in the air. “Next door.”

  She turned pale, making her rosy cheeks stand out even more. “Sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  He just shrugged.

  “I’ll pay for your pot. How much?” She pulled out her wallet.

  He’d paid twenty thousand for it, but it was insured for three times more. Unfortunately, he couldn’t replace it for that amount. “Ninety seven thousand, five hundred.”

  Her mouth gaped open. “For an urn?”

  “It’s a vase. Ming Dynasty, Wan li period, made in the late 1590s.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, my goodness.” She slipped the wallet back in her pocket.

  “Don’t worry, it’s insured.”

  “Sorry,” she said, and then turned and crawled out the same window she had climbed in.

  He put his hands back down to his side. It does, too, matter, he thought, wiping back a tear. He listed all the things that had left, died, or broken during the year. First the wife, then the dog, and now the vase.

  He’d known the latch on the window was broken for the last month. It was on his list of things to get fixed. It was a long list that also included the alarm system. It hadn’t been a huge priority for him, until today. There was one thing he was going to do first, though.

  “It’s two o’clock in the morning,” Raymond protested as he answered the phone.

  “It broke.”

  “What are you talking about, and why are you waking me?”

  “The Ming. It broke.”

  “That’s too bad,” the sarcastic voice said. “Oh, that is too bad.” The tone brightened and Barry knew Raymond was calculating the commission in his head.

  “I want another one. It’s three in the afternoon in Paris. You can call one of the art houses there and have one on the way before I get back up.”

  “You’re going to bed?”

  “Of course, it’s two o’clock in the morning.” Not wanting to hear Raymond’s rude reply, Barry didn’t wait for an answer.

  He walked over to the vase, looked down at the pieces and thought about gluing it back together. It wouldn’t be worth anything in that condition, but Barry couldn’t take another loss in his life right now.

  As he gazed at it, he realized there were just too many small pieces. It would be up to the maid to clean it up when she got in.

  Not wanting a repeat of the break-in, Barry went out to the garage and brought in a hammer and nail. With the window secured, he went back to bed.

  As he lay there staring at the ceiling, too upset to sleep, his mind was racing. Something had to change. It was one loss after another, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

  A year ago, he had the ideal life. A supermodel wife, a rare Tibetan Mastiff dog, and a beautiful Ming Dynasty vase. Now all three were gone. The first two had left the same day. The wife stormed out, claiming he loved his things more than he loved her. She left the door open and the dog ran into the street and was run over. He had paid six thousand for the dog and the wife had cost him much, much more in the divorce.

  During therapy, his psychologist kept mentioning he shouldn’t put a price tag on every aspect of his life, but he couldn’t help it. Everything was assigned a value in his mind.

  Luckily he had signed a prenuptial with the wife, so she didn’t take him to the cleaners, but she still walked away with a cool million. Somewhere between five and six, as the sun was just coming up, he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

  Chapter 2

  Barry woke up, dressed and headed down stairs. The broken vase was still there, but with a wide-eyed maid staring at the pieces.

  “It broke?” she asked in her broken English. She stood about five foot four and had long thick black hair that she pulled into a bun on the back of her head.

  He loved the way she talked. She was the world’s best maid in his opinion, standing there in the knee length, light blue dress, with the matching white lace apron. Rosita had been in the United States longer than he had been alive, but she’d never mastered the language. Having been his father’s maid before she was his, she was part of the family, especially since Barry had an absent mother. Rosita was the one who sent him off to school, made sure he did his homework, and loved him when no one else seemed to.

  “Yes, it broke in the night. Nothing to do but sweep it away.”

  “But, Senior?”

  “I know, I know.” He wiped back another tear, took a deep breath, “I’ll get another. This time I’ll put it somewhere safe.”

  “Si.” She headed into the hall closet and brought back a broom and a dustpan.

  He couldn’t watch. It was like seeing a dear friend pulled out of a crash, one piece at a time. Going into the kitchen, he peered out the window and saw an ugly car in his neighbor’s driveway. It was the same ugly car the police used as patrol cars, the type of car no one else would buy so only the police used them. They even used them as unmarked units, as if driving an ugly car without markings would fool anybody.

  Curiosity got the best of Barry. He grabbed a measuring cup out of the drawer and walked down the street to his next door neighbor’s. When Fred Kasper opened up the thick wooden door, he looked down on the shorter Barry.

  “Can I borrow a cup
of sugar?”

  Fred frowned. “Are you baking? You have people for that.”

  “The cook’s not here yet, and I had a cake roll craving.” Barry knew Fred didn’t believe him, but he let him in anyway. Leading him to the kitchen, Fred put the sugar canister on the cupboard. “Here you go.”

  A man in a cheap suit with a thin mustache came around the corner. “Oh,” Fred added. “This is Detective Adams. Did you see anyone prowling around during the night? Someone tried to break in. I think the alarm scared them away.”

  “Can’t say that I did.” Barry thought for a minute. “Alarm? I didn’t hear any alarm during the night.”

  “Okay, there wasn’t an alarm. I kept setting it off two or three times a night and the security company cut me off. I sleep walk. That doesn’t mean someone didn’t try to break in. There were pry bar marks on my window and doors.”

  “What were they after?” Barry asked. He wanted so badly to find out about this Rex Battery that had the beautiful thief prowling the night.

  “I have no idea. It’s not like I have a Ming Dynasty vase sitting in the middle of the room like you do. Maybe they were trying to break into the wrong house.”

  Barry had to swallow a laugh, “No, I don’t think that’s it. Is there something of great value in here?” Like the mysterious Rex Battery?

  “No, I can’t think of anything.”

  “Well, thanks for the sugar, and it was nice to meet you, Detective.”

  The man in the suit just nodded. Barry thought the officer was looking right through him. Could he tell Barry was lying? It didn’t matter. He didn’t owe his neighbor anything. Fred Kasper wasn’t a proper name for one of the town’s rich and famous, in Barry’s mind. He was new money, and probably ill gotten at that.

  Barry walked home, he was no wiser than he was before. When he came back into the house, Eva was there. She was the cook. Being Rosita’s daughter, her and Barry had grown up together. She was the sister he never had. Her dark wide eyes and thin waist made her a real head turner when she walked down the street. It was all lost on Barry, though. His love for her ran deeper than just looks. She was family in his mind, not a romantic interest.

  He sat the sugar down on the counter top just in time to get hugged. “The vase broke. I’m so sorry that happened. Are you okay?”

  Her sympathy got the best of him. He took several deep breaths to keep from losing it. “I will be, I hope.” His eyes watered up again.

  “What can I do?” She stepped back to look him in the eye.

  He wiped away the tears. “I am going to get another one.” He sighed. “It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Good.” She turned and saw the measuring cup. “You borrowed sugar? We have lots.”

  “I’m craving a cake roll.” He wasn’t, he didn’t really like them, but that was the excuse he was going with. He had used it next door. Might was well be consistent.

  “Sure, anything. You’re having a rough day.”

  Chapter 3

  While waiting for the cake roll to bake, Barry pulled out his phone. He contacted the handy man and the insurance adjuster. After he hung up from the second call, he looked around. It wasn’t his house, it was his father’s. The hard wood floors were what his father wanted. The furniture was his father’s style and each piece still sat where his father had them placed. The white paint was the color he had decided on. Barry had never made the place his own.

  The living room had been the scene of the family’s many parties. His mother had been a social butterfly who partied all night and slept all day. Fast living had gotten the best of her. She died while Barry was still a teenager. His father pressed on, but the house became barren. All the pictures were gone. The rooms, which previously had deep carpeting and warm colored walls, all became hard wood and white. Barry hated it. His father hung on several more years after the cancer hit him, but in the end, Barry was only twenty when he, too, died.

  Barry couldn’t take the loneliness, so he married quick, but wrong. The marriage was over in less than a year. The house was still as his father left it.

  Having the vase smack dab in the middle of the room was Barry’s one act of defiance. His father would have hated it there. That had turned out to be disastrous, though.

  When his phone went off, Barry glanced at the name, then picked it up. “Yes, Raymond.”

  “I have one. It’s very close to the one you have. I’m emailing you the invoice as we speak. It was one hundred and one thousand. I tried to talk them down.”

  “A hundred and one thousand? No you didn’t try and talk them down. Either that, or you suck at it.”

  “Okay, I didn’t try and talk them down. You called me at two in the morning. They will crate it up and air freight it. It should be here in a few days.”

  Barry sighed. “Fine.”

  “Bye.” Raymond hung up.

  Smelling the cake, Barry went into the kitchen. Eva had set it down on the counter. “Looks good so far.”

  “Yes, I have to let it cool, then I can finish it.”

  “I have another vase coming.”

  Eva’s whole face lit up. “I am so happy for you.” She hugged him again.

  “Thank you.”

  “Now if you can just find another wife and dog, you will be a complete man again.”

  “I can be a complete man without a wife and dog,” he protested.

  She smiled that half smile that told him she wasn’t buying it. “Sure. Maybe you can find someone nice this time.”

  He just shook his head.

  She was finishing up the cake when the doorbell rang. Rosita went to answer it. Soon she escorted Fred into the kitchen.

  “Fred?” Barry was surprised to see him. He rarely came over, and only when there was a social gathering with food.

  “I heard rumors of a cake roll.” The large man sat down next to Barry without being invited.

  “I’m just finishing it up.” Eva got down dishes and poured milk into cups. She then placed the cake in front of Barry and Fred. She had spread out cream cheese and strawberry jam on the thin yellow cake before she rolled it up. The slices on the plate were very decorative with the red, white, and yellow swirl.

  “Looks good,” Fred said. He waited for Eva to leave the room before he continued. “I lied to the police.”

  Barry jerked his head back in mock surprise. “Really? Why?”

  “I am missing something out of the house.”

  Barry hoped Fred would say something about the Rex Battery. “What are you missing?”

  Mid bite, Fred turned and stared at Barry for a moment. “I think you know.”

  It was one of those times where he would have to use his poker face. Barry didn’t know how much Fred knew, so he didn’t want to give his cards away just yet. “Nope, I don’t read minds.”

  “There were foot prints in front of my house. I traced them over here.” Fred glared.

  “I went over and borrowed some sugar, remember?”

  Fred’s cheeks turned red. He went back to his cake. “Oh, yeah.”

  “What are you missing, anyway?” Barry won that round, but still wanted information.

  “Can’t say.”

  “Let me get this straight. You didn’t tell the police that something was stolen and those people you do tell, you can’t say what it is. How on earth do you ever expect to get it back?”

  “Good question.” Fred stood up and took two steps for the door. He then turned back, grabbed the rest of his cake roll and stuffed it into his mouth. He mumbled something through his full mouth.

  Barry thought he said, “This is good,” but he couldn’t be sure. New money, no manners.

  It was one of the few things Barry’s mother taught him, manners and etiquette. She spent time teaching him which fork to use and how to break rolls downward on the bread plate so as not to spread crumbs everywhere. She even taught him to properly use his napkin. His mother was the first loss in a life full of losses.

  Cha
pter 4

  Barry could stand it no more. Fred hadn’t been forthcoming and he was curious, so he walked into the library and powered up the computer. When it came online, he looked up Rex battery. According to the search engine, it didn’t exist.

  Scratching his head, he went back into the living room. Rosita was dusting. He looked around and said, “I’m going to paint this room. I can’t stand it anymore.”

  Rosita stepped back and looked around. “Si.” She then went back to her dusting.

  When the door bell rang, she put her feather duster down and answered the door. Bob, the handyman, walked in. At least that’s what his shirt always said. It could have been someone else’s shirt. Barry was never sure. As long as the man answered to Bob, Barry was okay.

  “You called, Mr. Hibbard?” Bob looked at the empty pedestal. “Where’s your pitcher?”

  “Vase. It was a vase. Ming Dynasty.” He gave up when he saw Bob’s blank stare. He might as well have been speaking Martian. “It broke.”

  “That’s too bad. It was such a nice pitcher. All that fancy painting on the side. It was pretty.”

  “Thanks. I’m getting a new one, but I want a better place to put it. I need you to build me a bookshelf along this wall. I want a light in an enclosed glass case that has enough room for the new vase I’m getting.”

  “Oh, sure. Where do you get those pitchers? Wal-Mart?”

  “No, somewhere a little more expensive.”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “I also need you to fix the window. The latch is broken.”

  Bob walked over to it. “You nailed it? Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve fixed it. Now it’s going to take me extra work to repair the jam, too.”

  “Extra work, extra money. You’ll be okay.”

  Bob sighed. “I’ll draw you up a sketch of the shelves before I start working on them. If you like it, I’ll order the lumber.”

  “Great.”

  Bob went over and measured the wall. He was still at the table sketching the plans when the door bell rang again.

  “Busy today,” Rosita said as she headed to answer it.