by Lee Driver
“That’s the idea. We wanted Einstein to feel at home.”
“Humidity must play havoc with your computer.”
“Sometimes. But when it gets too warm, we just close Einstein off in his room and turn on the air.”
Simon gazed through the large plate glass windows at the property which extended as far as he could see. “Three hundred acres of reservation land out there, huh?”
“With a stream, a lot of natural preserve, open prairie, and a few bluffs overlooking a fishing stream.”
“Damn.” Simon did another slow survey of the living areas, the wall of bookcases, and the aviary. “So this was going to be an auto dealership.”
“Pretty fortunate for Sara’s grandparents. They didn’t have to build a house. Once it was revealed the land shouldn’t have been sold to the dealer, the building was left as is.” Dagger nodded toward the aviary. “That was supposed to be the service area. It already had the plumbing for washing cars.”
“I like those government boys. Always on top of things,” Simon chuckled. “But why such a long driveway?”
Dagger leaned against the paneled wall, legs crossed at the ankles. “The dealership had planned to position the new and used car lots closer to the road to entice shoppers. So they set the building back a couple hundred feet.” Dagger asked, “Did you have any trouble getting your route changed?”
“Nope. Seniority has its upside. Besides, you shouldn’t be trottin’ off to your post office box every day. And it’s a good thing I’m your mailman, too. Who else would understand all this Soldier of Fortune, Mercenary Today, Spy Network magazines you get?”
“Nowadays, everyone with Y2K-phobia subscribes to these magazines.”
“Yeah, but that mercenary school in Kentucky you attended still has you on their mailing list. What are they teaching now? How to look like that Saddam Whozzits in fifteen days?”
Einstein flew to the catwalk railing. “SQUAWK, GUGE, GONJI, KILL STRIKE, UZI, MI-FORTY SEVEN...”
“Hey.” Dagger pointed a finger at Einstein. “Put a clamp on it.”
Einstein turned and ruffled his feathers at Dagger.
“See,” Simon motioned toward the macaw. “Even the bird remembers the weapons and all those deadly self-defense courses you took.”
Dagger handed some of the mail back to Simon saying, “Do me a favor and mark these Return to Sender. I’m more into Tai Chi these days.”
Simon rubbed a hand through his graying Afro and took the mail from Dagger. He let his gaze drift toward the kitchen. “How’s the little lady? Is she getting used to her grandmother’s passing?”
Dagger followed his gaze. “Some days I find her out back by the grave talking to her grandmother. She was all the family Sara had left. But I think Einstein really fills a large part of that void.” Dagger dug through stacks of papers and notes on his desk, shoved them aside, and made room for today’s mail.
“I see you’re still neat and orderly.” A piece of mail slipped to the floor. Simon quickly retrieved it and threw it back on the stack. “How are the living arrangements working out?”
“Place is big enough that we’re able to stay out of each other’s way.” Dagger jabbed an index finger under the flap of an envelope and tore open a bill from the phone company. “And the rent I pay for Einstein and me gives Sara an income.”
A twinkle crept into Simon’s eyes. “Seems to me it would be kinda hard to keep your mind on business with that gorgeous creature living under the same roof.”
Dagger gave his broad shoulders a shrug. “Never mix business with pleasure. Besides, Sara’s more like a little sister to me.” Dagger couldn’t help but smile at Sara’s transformation in just six short months. She had been so shy and withdrawn when he had met her. He had looked over and there she was, standing in the doorway of his office over a local bar, looking like some native of a South Pacific island with her almond-shaped eyes, olive complexion, and waist-length hair.
Back then, Sara had been instrumental in helping Dagger solve a case. They complemented each other well. She had unusual talents that could benefit his firm, and he needed an office and a place to live that didn’t frown on a rowdy macaw. And Sara knew more about macaws than even the man in charge of the Aviary House at Brookfield Zoo.
Simon’s bushy eyebrows slowly crept up his broad forehead. “Brother and sister? Right. You gonna tell me those twenty steps up to that sweet thing’s bedroom doesn’t give you that itch during some lonely nights? You gonna tell me living and working in this close proximity doesn’t make things a little too tempting?”
Dagger gave a hopeless shake of his head. “The only thing I’m tempted to do is turn her over my knee. It has been a struggle getting her used to being around people after being secluded here with her grandmother.”
“She used to do the shopping for her grandmother, didn’t she?”
“Sure, early in the morning before the stores were crowded. I made the mistake of taking her to the mall once, after her grandmother died. I thought it would be good to expose her to as much of the outside world as possible, as soon as possible. Talk about an anxiety attack.” Dagger leaned closer. “I ended up calling her a baby. Then those big, blue-green eyes started to fill with tears and...”
Simon smiled broadly. “Oh yeah, let me guess. Those women get that bottom lip a-quivering and you feel like an absolute jackass.”
“Right. And then the tears hang on the bottom lashes, just hanging, never falling. And the lashes are moving up and down from the weight.” Dagger shook his head of thick hair and laughed. “How on earth do women do that?”
“You’ve got no patience, Chase Dagger. Women need patience.” Simon winced as Einstein let out a diatribe of screeches as he flew from the catwalk to the aviary.
Dagger motioned Simon toward the couch while sliding shut first the grated door and then the clear Plexiglas door on the aviary. The Plexiglas door provided excellent soundproofing. Dagger carried some papers in his hand and took a seat next to Simon. He tossed a quick glance over his shoulder toward the doorway, leaned in and whispered, “Well, those days that I used to look at Sara sideways and reduce her to tears are gone. Now that I taught her how to shoot, she has a backbone. Now that she has learned some self-defense, she challenges me on everything from taking care of Einstein to doing my job. She even had me throw out all my coated fry pans because, little did I know, the coating emits toxic fumes that could kill birds. Between Einstein and Sara, I don’t know which one is going to drive me crazy first.”
“Crazy.” Simon huffed. “You’re loving every minute of it. You want her to be that shy, timid girl again because then you won’t be attracted to her.” He leaned in and whispered, “Unless you haven’t noticed, but I’m sure you have, she ain’t no girl. She’s a full grown woman.” He eye-balled his friend suspiciously. “Is she doing your laundry?”
Dagger shook his head.
“Are you buying her monthly personals?”
“No.”
Simon clamped a thick hand on Dagger’s shoulder. “Then you’re safe for now.”
“Take a look at these pictures, Simon. Ever see these guys before?”
“Uh huh. Changing the subject already.” Simon studied the pictures of the two men. “They don’t look ugly enough to be inmates. Are they relatives?”
“Not quite. Just some suspicious characters who piqued Sara’s interest.” He placed the pictures on the coffee table. “Have your cop friends told you about any missing persons? A woman around thirty, maybe? Or any homicides from last night?”
“Just gang shit, but no young woman.”
“Anything else new around town?”
“Just that hoity-toity cocktail party Friday night for the rich fat cats.”
Dagger arched one eyebrow.
“Here you go, Simon.” Sara placed a tray containing cups of coffee and a plate of cookies on the coffee table.
“Why thank you, little lady.” Simon helped himself to refreshments. Sar
a curled up on the love seat and waited for Simon’s reaction. “Ummm. Chocolate chip. My favorite.”
Sara pressed her fist to her mouth and absentmindedly started to chew on a knuckle. To her it was a way to keep her hands from shaking. But her knuckles were looking raw, the skin cracking. Dagger reached over and pulled her hand away so she clenched it tightly in her lap.
Simon handed one last piece of mail to Dagger. “I saved the best for last. I’m sure this is your invite to that hoity-toity affair. It’s being given by Robert Tyler, the rich dude who owns thousands of hotels around the globe.”
“And I should know this Tyler guy?”
“He’s a very, very close friend of Leyton Monroe, the newspaper tycoon.” A narrow smile curled up one corner of Simon’s mouth. “I’m surprised Monroe’s daughter hasn’t called to personally invite you.”
Sara averted her attention to the photos on the coffee table. She remembered Sheila Monroe. At the time Sara met Dagger, he was engaged to Sheila. It had been only a couple of days before the wedding. But Dagger never made it to the wedding.
Dagger poured himself a cup of coffee and took the invite from Simon. “Spending time at a social event with Sheila and her father is not my idea of an enjoyable evening.”
Simon pointed a thick finger at the bottom of the invitation where it read Number of Guests and whispered, “You don’t have to go alone.”
CHAPTER 5
Cedar Point was one of the largest suburbs in northwest Indiana. Some called it a mini-Chicago with its close, thirty-minute proximity to downtown Chicago. Unfortunately, the Chicago skyline was a little more picturesque than Cedar Point’s. Just east of Cedar Point one could see the belching smokestacks from the Gary steel mills spewing a haze that settled across the entire lakeshore on calm days.
With its population around 125,000, Cedar Point was slightly smaller than South Bend, Indiana. It had seen its income derivation change from industry to technology in just twenty-five short years. Its Center for Performing Arts had produced plays comparable in talent and scope to Broadway, bringing in audiences from Chicago and Indianapolis, which was three hours to the south.
Ten miles of Lake Michigan beaches were kept pristine by city workers, volunteers, and owners of the beachfront properties. The Cedar Point Yacht Club accepted boats only over thirty feet in length. For several years avid fishermen challenged the elitist rule in court only to be turned down by judges who owned no less than thirty-five-foot Bayliners.
The Tyler mansion claimed a five-block area just one mile from the yacht club. With a widow’s walk on each end, the estate appeared like a fortress resting on top of a hill, its circular drive lined with limousines and vanity cars.
From the front seat of Dagger’s car, Sara stared apprehensively at the forty-room mansion and the bubbling fountain in the middle of the circular drive. The setting sun cast long shadows across the immaculate landscape. She tugged nervously on the spaghetti straps of her black dress.
“You okay?” Dagger gave her hand a squeeze as he brought the Ford Torino to a stop. A hubcap clattered to the brick drive and rolled to the valet’s feet. The engine belched and sputtered, refusing to quit, until at last, with one final shudder, it stopped.
The valet looked too old to be parking cars. Dagger guessed him to be part of security. Old man Tyler probably didn’t want any of the luxury cars of the attendees stolen. The valet’s thick eyebrows hovered over his beady eyes surveying the cancerous rust spots dotting the aged black Ford Torino.
Dagger dropped his car keys into the valet’s hand. “Treat my baby good.” Dagger patted his arm. “It’s priceless.”
“Yeah, I bet.” But the valet’s attention was quickly drawn to Sara as she stepped out of the car, the slit of her dress exposing a shapely leg, her long hair shiny and framing her face. The last of the sun’s rays caught the blue-green of her eyes.
Dagger wrapped a protective arm around her waist. “You’ll do just fine, Sara.”
“I think I need more practice walking in these heels.” Her black ankle-wrap heels were a little more than two inches high. She stepped gingerly up the stairs to the main entrance.
“Think of it as walking on your tiptoes.”
“I don’t know which is worse, the heels or the panty hose. Women actually wear these things all day long?”
Dagger laughed. Everything about Sara was so refreshingly uncomplicated. She had never worn nylons or heels before today. Even the dab of eye shadow and mascara she was wearing had been applied and removed three times until she had gotten the hang of it.
Sara had always led a simple life with her grandmother, raising their own vegetables, eating fish out of the stream, and wearing clothes hand-sewn by Ada Kills Bull. Sara didn’t know how to drive, had been home-schooled, yet seemed to know a little about a lot and was a quick learner.
They made a striking couple, Sara with her long, dark hair which the sun had streaked a variety of colors, and Dagger in his tuxedo with his thick hair pulled back in a pony tail, a diamond stud earring in his left ear, his features angular, eyes mysterious.
They entered the foyer. Sara gaped at the crystal chandelier hanging over their heads. Loud voices and laughter spilled out from the ballroom and classical music played softly in the background. Dagger felt as if they were part of a herd of cattle being directed through one central doorway.
As they drew nearer, Dagger understood why. Everyone was being steered through a metal detector. A tuxedo-clad security guard had a wire snaking up under his jacket, around his neck, and into his ear.
Just as Dagger expected, as he and Sara walked through the doorway, the metal detector rang out. The husky security guard motioned Sara through and asked Dagger to check his pockets.
“I’m sure you’re looking for this.” Dagger pulled a Smith & Wesson Shorty .45 from his belt holster.
Another security guard appeared out of nowhere. He had large, flat features, and a mouth in permanent frown mode. His name badge said MEYERS. Meyers checked that the safety was on and then examined the pistol.
“You’ve got a goddamn Trijicon night sight on this baby. What were you going to do? Go hunting in Mr. Tyler’s backyard tonight?”
Dagger pulled out a business card. “I have a license.”
Meyers reluctantly took the card and snickered. “You can get your toy back when you leave.” He motioned Dagger through the doorway.
“Did you know they were going to check?” Sara whispered.
“Of course. That’s why I gave you my Bersa .380 to carry in your purse.”
“You should have seen Prince Charles’ face when I asked him point blank how long he had been having an affair.” Sheila Monroe threw back her head and gave a throaty laugh. A large emerald pendant surrounded by diamonds draped her slender neck. Her white, glittery, off-the-shoulder dress fit her slender body like a second skin.
Sheila’s audience consisted of three female college friends, two co-workers at The Daily Herald, and three male hopeful suitors.
“He’s available now, Sugar. You should interview him again.” Laurette’s Georgia accent was heavy and sometimes exaggerated. Her hazel eyes flashed as she fluffed the bangs of her short red hair. Laurette was Sheila’s closest friend and had been slated to be her maid of honor.
Molly’s deep dimples pinched at her cheeks. She was the first to see Dagger at the bar. Her squeaky voice sounded more like a little girl’s. “Uh, oh. Look who’s here, Sheila. I guess we can bring our bridesmaid dresses out of storage.”
Sheila’s shoulder-length platinum hair swung freely as she turned in the direction of the bar. She brushed one side of her hair behind her ear with her fingers, revealing an engagement ring she had yet to remove. Her heart skipped into her throat. Dagger always did look good in a tuxedo. But then again, he looked good in anything he wore. She had even gotten used to Dagger’s penchant for wearing black.
She especially loved how his eyes seemed to always rest in shadow, making him appear se
nsually dangerous. Being a reporter, she was adept at pulling information from people, men especially. But Dagger was like a closed book, answering in cryptic sentences, sometimes answering only with a smoldering gaze that would send a shiver of excitement through her body. She could forgive him anything, even for canceling their wedding two days before the gala affair. She watched him accept two drinks from the bartender.
“Well, well. Who is that gorgeous creature with Dagger?” Sal Wormley lifted his wire-frame glasses. Coarse red hair stood straight up, as though searching for sunlight. The freckles dotting his white skin were the same color as his hair.
“Put a sock in it, Worm. She isn’t WITH Dagger. She works FOR him,” Sheila clarified.
“She works FOR him?” Laurette drawled, “or UNDER him?” This got a laugh from everyone.
“You two haven’t even been dating again, have you?” Molly squeaked.
“We’ve kept in touch. Just needed some time apart, that’s all. My god, Dagger’s thirty years old. Of course he’s going to get cold feet getting married for the first time.” Sheila checked her engagement ring, rubbed her thumb across the top as if to shine it.
“Did you ever see so much jewelry in your life?” Dagger asked over the rim of his martini glass. Sara didn’t have to respond. Her eyes looked like a deer’s in headlights, part fear, part excitement.
The room was filled with the Cedar Point elite in politics, business, philanthropy, art, you name it. Women were coifed, curled, painted, squeezed into dresses, toes pinched inside sequined shoes. Men were stuffed into tuxedos they hadn’t had on since New Year’s Eve. Some owned as many tuxedos as business suits. But the men were scarce and Dagger figured out why.
A reading room near the bar was emitting billows of smoke. Although smoking was not permitted in the house, the emergence of the latest trend in cigar smoking prompted Robert Tyler to convert his reading room into a cigar room.
“I guess that’s where most of the men disappeared to.” Dagger’s gaze roamed the ballroom, feeling eyes on him. He located the source. “I think we’ve been spotted. Let’s get this over with.”