"Anger isn't a bad thing, Tim. Have you called anyone for counseling?"
"Counseling?"
"Grief therapy. I know someone good."
"Maybe later, Marco. It's all too raw... I can barely think."
"Promise me you'll consider it?"
"When this is all over."
"Let's take a look at this." I slipped the key from beneath the tape. It wasn't your ordinary key. The fancy, cloud-shaped bow had a golden hue and the stem was engraved with a lightning bolt. There was something familiar about it. But I couldn't place it.
"Do you recognize the key?"
"Not in the least." Hollister shook his head.
"Well he hid something there. Maybe his laptop or those papers. Unless he had something else he was keeping safe for you? A will?"
"Our wills are on file with our lawyers. This has to be related to his work."
"The key's distinctive. Somebody's bound to know what it is." I flipped it into the air and caught it. "This could be a break."
***
I'd asked Luke to meet me at Nina's place. I wanted to check on her progress and show Luke the key.
Walking to Olde City gave me a chance to think. Nothing added up yet. Brandt was dead and someone had ransacked his home. The fact that someone tossed the house raised lots of red flags. But, if they were after his work, they couldn't have gotten it because the laptop was hidden.
Brandt's death was not the result of a mugging but was it related to his work or to something different? Lots of people didn't like what Brandt wrote about, including all the nuts who'd sent threats. But his death might easily have been connected to an affair he was having or something else.
Indefinable things just out of reach made me suspicious of everybody in this case. When I get that feeling, there's something moving under the radar. I needed to adjust my settings to see it.
Finding Brandt's laptop and those documents might help. I held the key in my pocket and traced its odd shape. I had the feeling I should know where it was from.
When Luke fell in beside me I smiled. He was a looker and I could never get enough of him.
"You seemed deep in thought." he said. "Which planet were you on this time?"
"Planet Who-Did-It. Not a nice place. You can't trust anybody there and everyone has a hidden agenda."
"Come back with any clues?"
"Of course not." I laughed. "But I promised Hollister I'd get to the bottom of things and I will. Whatever the outcome."
"Maybe the geek people have found some leads."
"Something about this case makes me a little crazy. Maybe the answer is just out of reach. Or, maybe I'm missing something right in front of me."
As we reached Nina's townhouse, the door opened and Deena popped her head out. If you don't know Deena, she's a bit of a surprise on first sighting. Unless you're used to purple hair in the strangest, stand-on-end pigtails and the special lavender spots she had tattooed on the sides of her face and running down her neck, which had something to do with a Star Trek character. Her dazzling green eyes made her child-like face look happy and sad at the same time, but mostly vulnerable. I'd learned never to let her surface innocence fool me. She was tough as concrete and twice as hard.
"Didn't expect you two," she said. Her small, high voice disguised even further her toughness. "We don't have hardly anything for you."
"Hello to you, too, Deena," I said.
Luke, never a fan of Deena's appearance, was silent but all smiles.
"You got Nina tied in knots." Deena held the door open. "She really wants to help but you gave her nothing to work with."
"I've seen you work miracles with a few scraps of information."
"Right now, we're comin' up dry, Marco."
She led us deep into the heart of the lair. Hallie was on the surface computer, arms flashing and images moving at lightning speed. Nina seemed to be going over notes. Neither of them noticed us.
"Company!" Deena called out.
Nina jumped up as if she'd been awakened from a deep sleep. Hallie continued working but waved over her shoulder.
"Marco, didn't know you were coming," Nina said.
"Any results yet?"
"You didn't give us much," Hallie snapped. She and Deena were protective of Nina. "So don't expect much."
"I've got some answers for you. I squeezed every bit I could out of what you gave me. Cerberus is seeing what he can come up with, too."
"Sounds good."
"You okay, then?" Deena asked Nina.
"Don't worry, Deena. I'll play nice. Nina is safe with me," I said.
"What I hear, nobody's safe with you." She moved to Hallie's side. Every once in a while she'd glance over at me.
"So, let's see," I said to Nina.
Nina picked out a folder from a rack on her desk. "I did a global search on the names you gave me." She riffled through the papers in the folder.
"And...?"
"You gave me Templar1098, VaticanMilitia, SecularVengeance, Ciliceguy and MensEcclesiae."
"Sounds right."
"Sounds like a bunch of nuts," Luke said.
"It gets better." Nina chuckled. "Two of them, Ciliceguy and MensEcclesiae, are all over the place on the web. They appear in forums on a lot of Catholic sites."
"Catholic sites?" Luke asked.
"Yeah, y'know, sites about what else? Catholics. Or about issues they get into. DogmaLeague, CatholicVoice, Domus Dei, Conclave and that's just some of the sites and blogs. There are lots and these guys show up on most of them. Doesn't look like they have a life. And they use the same names on all the sites. Stupid."
"What kinds of topics do they get into?"
"I made a list of links. Mostly conspiracy weirdness, pro-life stuff, and all that kinda crap. At first, I thought, who cares? But then I looked and there are thousands of them." Nina seemed either impressed or appalled.
"Candidates for padded cells," Luke said.
"You got that right," Nina commented.
"You didn't find all the names?"
"I haven't found Templar 1098. Yet! But the Vengeance guy and the Militia dude, oh man, they were in the darkest sites."
"Meaning really dangerous?"
"Dangerous is not the word. These freaks are into murder, torture, and suffering. They talk about weird ways of hurting people. Everything is a conspiracy. They are fucked up. Seriously fucked up."
"Well, Marco's on top of it all, right?" Luke said.
"The more you find out, the faster I can put this case away."
"Get me more to work with, then. But watch your back, Marco. These guys are insane. You could be in real trouble."
"Hey, Fontana," Hallie said, moving to Nina's side. "Nina said there's a laptop? Bring that in and we'll find you all kindsa shit."
"We're working on it. Let me have what you've got so far. When we find the laptop, it's yours."
Nina handed me a disk. "It's all on here. These guys are religious nuts. I'm gonna love it if I help put 'em away."
Luke and I stepped out into the dusk. A cold breeze eased leaves off the trees.
"You don't think these nuts will get to Nina, do you?" Luke looked apprehensively back at the house. "Or... or get to you? They won't, will they?"
"I learned a long time ago never to be sure about anything, Luke. Last time I was sure about something, I was left high and dry."
***
The Venture Inn was moderately crowded when Luke and I sat down to dinner. I had to wait for the witnesses to show, so I suggested we have dinner.
"You ever see anything like this?" I asked Luke after placing the key on the white tablecloth. "Does it look at all familiar?"
Luke stared at the key. He put out one delicate finger and touched the key as if it were a flame. He picked it up gingerly and turned it over and over, studying it.
"There's something familiar about it, but I've never seen anything like it. Looks like it opens something expensive. What is it? Other than a key, I mean."
"Hollister found it in the house when I was with him."
"Can't be important. If the guys who tossed his place left it behind, it must be worthless. Right?"
"Could be. But I don't think they even saw it. The key was in the freezer, wrapped in paper, placed in an envelope stuffed into a box of fish sticks."
"Oh." He placed the key back on the table. "I don't think I've ever seen a key like that. And I've been in some classy places."
This was true. Luke enjoyed luxuries and liked spending his money. He spared no expense. His success enabled him to be extravagant if he chose.
"If you know the guy who that belongs to, give him my name," said Charlie, the waiter who'd come to take our orders. "Looks like it's from someplace swanky. And this girl needs swanky. I been waitin' tables long enough."
"Never saw a key like this, huh? With all the places your ass has been." I teased.
"I'm proud of all the keys I've been given. It's a testament to the trust my men place in me." Charlie pretended to be aggrieved. "What'll you two lovebirds have?"
"Lovebirds?" Luke looked at me. "What've you been telling people?"
"Oh, hon, he's got plans for you. Didn't he tell you?" Charlie winked.
We placed our orders and Charlie smiled as if Luke and I were getting engaged. Charlie's long face was creased with dimples that twenty-five years ago must've made him cute. Now, they made him look dour which he was anything but. I couldn't help thinking he resembled a basset hound. Mousy hair, big droopy eyes, and dimples-gone-to-wrinkles screaming sad sack. When he opened his mouth, that illusion was blown all to hell.
"You think that key leads to the laptop, don't you?" Luke said.
"There was a note with the key, but it wasn't specific. Brandt said 'Just in case.' He also said he loved Hollister and that was it."
"Sad," said Luke. His expressive eyes showed he was moved.
"It is, but for Hollister's sake, I'm hoping it gets us the laptop."
***
Dinner was fun. We avoided talking about anything to do with crime or Catholics. We both had the new version of the house special, Chicken Livermore, which had been on the menu since George Washington lived in Philly.
"Unfortunately I've gotta meet Artie and Jordan. But you don't have to wait."
"I have a staff meeting at 7:30 tomorrow morning. But let me do this," Luke said pulling out his cell phone. "Put the key on the table."
I detached the key from my key ring and put it on a spot I cleared. Luke snapped open his phone, pressed a button and took two photos.
"For your scrapbook?"
"I'll show it to my staff. They get into all sorts of places, see all kinds of things. One of them might recognize it."
"Is it any wonder why I love you?"
"You only love the help I give you. Now I've gotta go." He gave me a peck on the cheek and a hug and was out the door.
"Now we can be alone," Charlie whispered as he cleared the table.
"Afraid not, Charlie. I'm meeting two other guys tonight."
"Two? You're hogging all the good ones." He frowned as he cleared the table.
I wandered to the bar where Zack was pouring drinks.
"Let me know when Artie and Jordan get in, will ya?"
"Trivia starts soon. They'll be here." Zack fussed with glasses. "The usual?"
"Sure."
As Zack set down the mojito, he glanced over my shoulder.
"Artie, Jordan! Right on time," Zack said. "I've got someone who wants to meet you two."
I turned around, anxious to see my possible witnesses. Artie was short, slender, and in full drag. His make-up was so thick he looked like an escaped mannequin. His chic black dress fit his slender form well. Petite, with a sleek blonde wig, he was balanced on the line between middle age and something more. The dim lighting helped. He smiled tightly, a safe bet since his make-up might've cracked otherwise.
His friend, Jordan, shrieked money from his professionally coifed silver hair to his cashmere sweater to his expensive Italian shoes. He was tall with a face that'd seen far too much sun and now did a fairly good imitation of parched soil. It was a wonder no one had told him about the benefits of moisturizers. But Jordan's eyes had the sparkle of a youthful personality, mischievous and knowing, belying his bland expression.
I stood and offered my hand. I towered over Artie but Jordan nearly edged me out in height.
"Marco Fontana." I smiled.
"Artie," said the blond. His hand was as soft and smooth as velvet. This man knew moisturizers.
"Jordan," the other said. "What can we do for you? Trivia will be starting soon."
"Won't take a minute of your time. I'm working a case and need your help."
"A case," Artie drew a hand to his mouth and his mascaraed eyes widened. "Are you a police detective?" There was a lot of Mae West in him as he moved close to brush up against me. "Brush" isn't exactly the word for what he was doing.
"Private investigator. I'm not with the police."
"Well, that's a relief," Jordan sighed and I wondered what he meant. I'd do a little digging later.
"I understand the two of you were around the night of the shooting?"
"The...? Oooh, the shooting," Artie cooed. "Yes, that poor boy. Handsome guy. A shame really. He's dead, you know. I saw..." He stopped himself.
"You saw something? Can you recall what you saw?"
"Why? What do you need this for? Am I going to have to testify? I can't go to court. I mean, I can go to court but not for... well, no, court is out. I can't do that. So, if you want me as a witness, forget that. I told the police that I didn't see anything." A Southern accent hung on his words like a dying echo.
"Artie doesn't like getting involved," Jordan said.
Tell me something I can't guess, I thought. But said, "Really, Artie, you won't have to testify. I'm not the police."
"You could be undercover," Artie said.
"No, Artie. I'm investigating the murder because I think the police don't care much and because there's a guy crying his heart out since his lover was killed."
"We could help, don't you think, Artie?" Jordan sounded moved. "I think we can help you, Mr. Fontana."
"Were you both there?"
"I was meeting someone for dinner. Jordan, too." Artie smoothed an eyebrow. "I avoid the major streets. I always walk the little streets, it makes me think of Europe. And when I got to that street... that street will never be the same for me now, you know. I'll never be able to walk there again without remembering what I saw. It'll play over and over again in my mind. That little twerp ruined it forever."
"What did he look like? The little twerp, what did he look like?"
"He wasn't little, I can tell you," Jordan said. "He was tall, like you. He wore a hat down over his eyes and a jacket collar pulled up, so you couldn't see his face."
"He was not tall, don't listen to him, detective," Artie insisted. "The man was small, I thought it was a kid at first. Person in my position has to be careful, so I notice things. Especially kids, they can be cruel and rough. When I'm out I pay attention. This guy was small, wiry, and had a gun."
"At least you're right about the gun," Jordan said. "He was far from short but he did have a gun."
"He went right up to the cute young man and mumbled something. I think he must've asked for the guy's briefcase. Because the young man handed his briefcase to the short guy." Artie jerked his head definitively, flouncing his blonde tresses.
"Then," Jordan continued the story, "he shot the young man. Just like that. Shot him. No warning. Didn't even show any emotion. I hit the pavement before more shots were fired."
"Did you see the same thing, Artie?"
"Like Jordie said, when those shots rang out, I closed my eyes and ducked. I wanted to drop to the ground but I was wearing my best silk dress. A pretty pale green number, makes me look like I have a wasp waist."
Jordan tried to suppress a laugh. Artie caught him and turned a deadly eye on him.
"As it happens I did hug the asphalt, while Mr. Lancelot, here, just let me shred my pantyhose on the street. Did nothing to help. I nearly peed myself."
"So neither of you saw the guy's face or anything?"
"It wasn't like you could really see anything," Jordan said. "As I told you, he covered his face pretty well."
"I didn't see his face either, but..." Artie stopped and stared at the wall across the room. It was as if he were trying to remember something that kept trying to escape.
"Anything you remember, Artie. Anything could help."
"I remember a tattoo. At least I think it was a tattoo."
"How could you see a tattoo?" Jordan sounded miffed, as if he wanted to be the one who'd remembered something. "You're reaching, Artie. There was no tattoo."
"Was, too. I saw it. I saw something."
"Where was the tattoo?" I asked.
"On his hand. The one he held the gun with. I don't remember what it was like. From where I was it looked like a smudge. But it was a tattoo."
"Trivia starts in one minute, guys," said one of the waiters. "No late entries."
"We gotta go." Artie slipped elegantly off his barstool. For a moment, the illusion was almost complete.
I gave them both a card.
"Call me if you think of anything else. I owe you guys."
Chapter 13
When Monday dawned, I was glad. Since Friday it seemed I'd been on the run for a year and what I had so far was a list of names, a key, and determination.
Olga, squat and alert like a pug on the prowl for food, was at her desk. She had an air of authority and efficiency about her like a glowing aura. Her face had begun to melt into comfortable and comforting wrinkles, but the sparkle in her eyes showed that age meant nothing.
"Morning, boss." She looked up from her monitor. "You have solved case?"
"Olga! It's only been three days."
"You are miracle worker, I have seen you."
Murder on Camac Page 13