Old Growth & Ivy (The Spook Hills Trilogy Book 1)

by Menard, Jayne

  Steve and Mathew were hard drivers about having the house built and the vineyards planted. Ivy was glad to be back for the remaining work on their Spook Hills house. Without her, Steve might have never stopped adding security gadgets, balconies, patios, crown moldings, wainscoting, cornices and other architectural gewgaws. His thoughtfulness was touching, even though he verged on overdoing it.

  The owners of a neighboring vineyard stopped by to check on their personal progress, the construction of the house, and the growth of the vines. When they asked about the shooting, Mathew explained that he and Steve were formerly with the FBI and they believed that the shooting was a vengeance move by a suspected drug lord. Their neighbors nodded and apparently spread the word to the other vineyard owners, as they found they were regarded warily yet sympathetically, with a couple of neighbors stopping by with casseroles and soups.

  Following the shooting, Ivy could face the devil that was after her. What kind of cowardly act was it to shoot two people in the back? Now she carried her gun with more determination. That shooting removed any lingering conflicts she had about harming the perpetrators. She had been fortunate that Steve was there to shield her with his big body or those next two shots would have killed her. As it was, his act of love could have cost him his life.

  Ivy realized during her recovery that she had loved Steve for herself far more than for him. She had loved as a selfish woman who needed her life to change. Now she could love him because he deserved it so very much. She resolved to cast aside centering on herself and reach outward to him, although hurt as they both were, expressing how they felt physically would be limited in the near term.

  ***

  The rest of July and August were devoted to healing and working on the house as best they could. The second week of September, Ivy, Steve and Mathew spent a couple of days in Portland, picking out smooth Brazilian cherry flooring, dense golden tan travertine from Peru, sedate slabs of granite in shades of brown with a little gold coloring running through, paint colors in moody hues, as well as sinks, commodes and appliances. With those essentials ordered, Mathew went back to Spook Hills.

  Steve and Ivy stayed on to select furniture and carpeting. They would need area rugs to create warmth on the hardwoods and tile throughout the house. First they did a walk-through of the Portland house, with Steve making a list on his laptop of what Ivy wanted moved down to Spook Hills. A few pieces of furniture, some of the art, four rugs, kitchen things, china, pottery, holiday decorations, her clothing and her personal things would be moved. After they were finished, they took Brian and Moll out to lunch to talk about their startup enterprise. That afternoon, Steve took a set of plans for the new house that he had automated on his laptop and created a layout for the furniture so they could see what they were missing.

  A small table, an antique sea chest, and a big painted hutch from Steve's mother would go into the new house, along with pieces of her Nordic pottery and a few other ethnic pieces from Norway. The furniture was decorated in the patterns and colors of the traditional Norwegian rosemaling style, which would add points of interest. Ivy planned to use old photos from Steve's family and hers to create a collage on one wall, leaving space to add their own memories. Her challenge was to blend the styles to be part of a whole, rather than an eclectic muddle. As she discussed these ideas with Steve, he added them to the layout.

  Ivy decided that the new furniture would be her contribution to Spook Hills. She began to wonder what she should do with the Portland house. As long as Brian and Moll wanted to stay there, she would leave the rest of the furnishings. At some point, the two men would want to get on with their own lives by moving back East and she would likely put the house on the market. For now they were concentrating getting the software, practices manual and marketing materials ready to start their new business, as well as consulting back to the FBI.

  While still not 100%, each week found Ivy and Steve stronger and able to take on more tasks. Luckily Steve was more patient about the shopping process than Ivy had expected he would be. As long as they stopped for coffee or tea breaks and tried a new spot for lunch each day, he was happy to be out with her, updating their computerized room layout after each purchase. Their evenings were spent either at one of the Portland restaurants or with Ivy preparing a simple meal at the Portland house. Either way, they kept evenings as their time to talk and to be together. While Ivy was sorry that Steve now had scars that marred the sinuous flow of his shoulder and chest muscles, she saw them a mark of his love that he had shielded her with his body.

  On Friday, they headed in separate directions, each with an agent tailing them. Ivy went to shop for dresses for the party after their planned wedding -- not classically bridal, but something long, striking and flattering. She found a dress in a moody emerald satin with shadowy tones that could be special ordered in her size. While the back was high, the neckline in front was so décolleté that Ivy was glad it came with a matching wrap. She thought that the ensemble would be becoming, while avoiding the younger person's bridal image.

  Mathew returned to Portland that evening to bring them up-to-date on the house and vineyard over dinner while at the same time Brian and Moll flew back to New York to prepare for a meeting with a prospect bank on Monday. Ivy chose the long-standing, but periodically re-invented Genoa Restaurant where its quietude would be perfect for conversation. They ate their first course slowly, listening to Mathew talk about progress at the house that week, most notably the front walkway and the curved patio off the conservatory by the kitchen that dropped down to a lower-level walled garden, as well as the remaining wallboard and some of the trim.

  Their server brought their pasta course while Mathew gabbed away enthusiastically about the vineyards and how the vines became appreciably bigger each week, with larger leaves, longer branches and stouter bases. Earlier in the year, the few grape clusters that appeared had been removed to encourage growth in the young vines. Mathew was filled with amazement at how hardy the vines were and how tenaciously they clung to the hillsides. Over salads, the conversation drifted to El Zorro Astuto and their concerns about when he would have his gunmen attack next.

  "What if he is a twin?" Mathew asked. He glanced a little guiltily over at Steve. "While I was waiting in the hospital, I got access to Sentinel and read through your case notes."

  Steve regarded him with surprise for a moment and then nodded. "Not impossible. Odd that twins in business would operate as if they are one person in two bodies."

  "Fungible," Mathew said almost to himself. "Not a word you usually apply to people, but they could have developed a relationship so tight that it works for them and they have become almost interchangeable or fungible."

  Ivy noticed that Mathew had such a fascination with words, seeking the mot juste. His affinity for Latin and Greek words came from his private school background. Sometimes along with his fussiness, it made him seem a little effete, although no one would question his masculinity. Steve and the FBI had kept Mathew grounded, pulling him away from his wealthy background into reality.

  "I remember you saying that Astuto named his companies after animals, plants and insects native to Colombia. Correct?" she asked a bit tentatively, as if to talk about the perps was to invite trouble.

  "That's right and the fictitious officers had Spanish names taken methodically from lists of common names." Mathew said.

  "How very peculiar. Something childish about it all. Clever, but childish," Ivy ventured.

  Steve's eyebrows lifted. "Say more." He put his fork down with a morsel of golden beet, a sprig of arugula and toasted pine nuts still on it, giving Ivy his full attention.

  "Think about it -- the names of the companies and officers, the fascination with yachts, the use of the actors and the copycat strategy with the money laundering. It almost sounds like a made-for-TV movie. You know how they are often rather obvious."

  "The guy is clearly smart. Brilliant even." Mathew said frowning. He was having trouble fitting childish ap
proaches with a successful and deadly drug lord.

  "Maybe it's a case of arrested development," Ivy commented speculatively. She had been conjecturing about Astuto in the back of her mind.

  The two men went back to eating, but Ivy could see they were mulling over what she said.

  "Could be a post-traumatic stress disorder," Mathew said after he finished his insalata with asiago and lightly grilled prosciutto.

  "What if?" Ivy stopped and looked down. "No, maybe I've watched too much TV."

  "Say it," Steve commanded.

  “You said there were three different sets of handwriting on the signature specimens you found, right?”

  Mathew nodded.

  “But only two faces, very similar faces, appeared on the passports?”

  “Yeah.”

  "What if three of these guys exist-- a set of twins who do the field work, oversee the operations, buy the yachts, hire the actors, whatever, and a third one, another brother?"

  "Keep going," Steve leaned forward, listening intently.

  "Let's say they all grew up in a rough environment, where something dreadfully shocking happened to one of them. What if he then became reclusive, making his own world where he could control everything?"

  "Even his brothers?' Mathew asked doubtfully.

  "Maybe they are all really smart, but grew up poor, took to the streets at a young age, started small time drug dealing. The rough life could have bound them together closer than family ties alone."

  "But they protected the brother, except that one time when some awful thing happened," Steve said, supporting Ivy's theory.

  "Let's also suppose the kid educated himself and began planning how to have the good life. Perhaps he became reclusive to the point of never going out . . . what's that syndrome?"

  "Agoraphobia." Mathew interjected, "From the Greek word ageirein, meaning 'to gather' and phobos meaning 'fear'.”

  "That would mean his source of information was the TV, except what his brothers might tell him and today what he accesses on the Internet."

  As he warmed up to the idea, Mathew appraised Ivy admiringly, "He's sounding more like he grew up in the States, but everything points to Colombia."

  "Exactly -- as if he watched drug crime scenes on American TV," Steve said.

  Ivy shook her head. "Sorry guys. Too far-fetched. Let's drop it."

  "Keep going," Steve said intrigued. "We're up against a brick wall on this case. This is a fresh perspective and it fits -- it explains certain aspects that have been bugging me. With every encounter with these perps, I sensed a familiarity about it. Things too clean. Too organized."

  "Like a stage set?" asked Mathew.

  Steve nodded, pushing back a little in his chair as their entrees arrived.

  "This theory would also explain how the wire transfers were initiated -- one guy in a back office handling the money, while the others are out managing the revenue-producing drug operations." Mathew said between forkfuls of elk and potatoes.

  "Twins -- that's why one guy in the photograph has a scar and one doesn't," Steve said.

  The restaurant had emptied while they had been talking quietly at their corner table. Their places were cleared and dessert was coming out -- Ivy's was something prettily described as Hazelnut Crunchy Ciococolatta. They waited for their server to move to the back of the restaurant before continuing.

  "We'll need access to local police records and newspapers in a wide variety of areas for a 10 year period -- five years on either side of our guessed age of 45 for this perp." Steve commented, as he took a big forkful of his dessert.

  "Hey, you're not serious about this theory, are you?" Ivy asked looking from Steve to Mathew.

  "I agree with Steve. We need a fresh start," Mathew said. "If we can get access to the records, why not? I bet it will be a big city with a large Spanish population, like Miami."

  Steve tapped the table with his forefinger the way he did when an idea was percolating and he wanted action. "If we had access to the Bureau experts, we could see if they can figure out their genetic heritage. They don't have that typical Colombian appearance. They are only a little swarthy, blue-eyed and tall. They look Spanish -- not like they have much in the way of genes from indigenous peoples, at least based on the actor or actors we shot."

  "At least one may not have been an actor," Mathew said, thoughtfully. "Can we get a genetic test run on the perp killed in Mexico City and the actor from that ship in Manzanillo?"

  "We'd have to get the Bureau to order the body exhumed. Families hate that. All we may find is that they don't match." He smiled over at Ivy. "You are now an honorary agent. Our thinking was stymied -- all the pieces were in front of us, but we weren't seeing how they might fit together. This theory fits the unexplained aspects of the case that have been niggling at my subconscious. We may find the truth to be quite different, but I like this new direction."

  Now Ivy better understood the effect praise from Steve had on his teams of agents. Pleasing him professionally and not only personally felt like a real achievement. Noticing the way his eyes had begun to shine reminded her how alive he became from the excitement of the hunt.

  Upon their return to Spook Hills the next morning, the now former Director of the FBI called Steve. Since the shooting, he had been checking in with Steve every week on their healing process. They were walking around the outside of the house, admiring the paths, walls and patios that had been finished while they were in Portland. Ivy could envision wide planters with silvery lamium, the fuzzy gray foliage of lamb's ears, trailing flowers of verbena, white Johnny Jump Up pansies and geraniums in various shades of pink all growing around trimmed boxwoods. Pots of herbs would grow happily in the sunshine on the back garden patio. Here and there, Mathew left a half cobblestone out of the patio so that Ivy could dig down and plant a small ground plant, like thyme or Irish moss or maybe Corsican mint. Most of these plants could go in this fall to form their root systems over the winter and be flowering by spring.

  They stopped and Steve put the call on speaker, letting the phone rest on the waist-high wall. While the two men talked to the former director, Ivy wandered off to check out the stone pathway to the lower level, staying close enough to catch the drift of the conversation. The Chief had just stepped down, but he indicated that he was serving in a consulting capacity during the transition and had specific responsibility for few issues -- one of which was apprehending Astuto and another was to determine if the Bureau and/or the DEA had one or more moles. His call was the perfect time to talk over their new theory with him. While he was unsure which current FBI HBOs, senior agents and staff could be trusted, he wanted to deputize Steve and Mathew as consultants to him for the investigations. The Chief promised it would be a desk job only with no fieldwork. He would use SWAT teams for that. Steve signaled for Ivy to join them.

  They would have no real peace until the FBI had taken Astuto into custody or killed him. As long as it was a desk job only, Ivy could support the work. She nodded her agreement. Steve explained their hunch that they were in search of an incident in a U.S. city, involving a teenage or maybe preteen boy from a family with a set of identical twin brothers. The Chief agreed to open channels for them to search for old cases in likely neighborhoods in the United States. Records would vary, depending on how rural the locale was. If their guess was right, they could narrow the years to about a 10-year period.

  Steve indicated he would want to add a few other former agents or others as consultants. While the Chief did not exactly give him a blank check, they could tell he was not against expanding the operation, knowing that Steve kept his team sizes on the conservative side. They discussed ideas about the possible mole or moles at the Bureau, which was of the utmost concern to the incoming Director, and their suspicion that a link existed between the mole and Astuto. Steve was instructed to set up a consulting group that fronted as a surveillance company in the D.C. area and to submit all invoices through that company to generate less attention. They also
agreed to use alternative names for anyone working on the case to disguise their identities.

  Ivy's stomach clenched during this discussion. Nevertheless she was determined to be part of the consulting team. Like it or not, they were back in the FBI's business, as if Steve and Mathew had never really left. As long as Astuto or perhaps this unholy trinity of three brothers was out there, they never would be free. Ivy had qualms about the work and she expected to have some sleepless nights, but the weeks of travel reconciled her to this life, and the additional weeks of recovery from the shooting had steadied her nerves. While the shooting itself might have put her into another tailspin, instead it strengthened her resolve to be with Steve. She loved him and she needed to assist him in whatever ways she could.

  Steve and Mathew could teach her how to perform the necessary online research. In addition, she would handle the mechanics of time collection, billing, and record keeping. She would now be part of their conversations. She only hoped that when the pressure came back on, Steve would not hide information, thinking that would protect her.

  Chapter 19

  Steve sat back in his chair, shifting his weight off the still-tender left side where the bullet had passed through his derriere. They had turned the main bay of Mathew's barn into an office. The old barn had big sliding doors on either side that the carpenters had repaired and set on new, modern tracks. On most days, they left the doors open to catch the breezes in the afternoon. Even with the chilly morning air, they had pleasant working conditions with views of the coastal range on one side and the drive up to their houses on the other.

  While the new approach they had from Ivy was pure conjecture, it felt right to Steve and when he got that feeling, he had learned to trust it. The research was tedious -- the type of thing he would put newer agents on, but the Bureau had taught him that you did whatever it took to catch the perps. They were concentrating first on larger cities with significant Hispanic populations, breaking up the search geographically, with Mathew and Steve taking Florida, which had the largest concentrations of Cubans and was where Steve suspected the brothers would be. Ivy took New York and Brian and Moll were splitting up the western states. Unfortunately only some of the archives from 20 years ago were available online. The work was slow going.