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

by Menard, Jayne

  Steve shifted in his chair again. Sometimes he worked standing up, moving his laptop onto a big box on his table, so he could use the keyboard and thumbpad without bending over. He gazed at Ivy. She was as intense as a fox after prey when it came to research. She would get going on something and the whole world around her seemed to disappear. Steve could see that she would have made a great agent, perhaps even giving him stiff competition.

  Steve liked to watch Ivy at work. He loved to watch her anyway, but this intensity about her was new to him. Every day when they kissed good morning, he was so grateful that she returned and that she survived that dreadful shooting. She had a vengeance now that Steve suspected was not previously in her nature. He could only hope that after they caught Astuto, her frequent smiles and laughter would return.

  She was such a gift to him. He brought so much danger to her that the rest of his life might not be time enough to make it right. He owed her his vigilance and so much more. She was making him more whole than he had ever been, leading him to open doors and rooms within himself that he had never known existed. When this case was over, he would make her life with him as perfect as it could be. While in Portland, he bought their wedding bands to compliment her engagement ring, and he purchased a gold bracelet with a heart of rubies embedded on top as a wedding present. Steve wondered if Ivy had given any thought to their wedding. His guess was that she had it all planned in her head.

  He gazed out the barn door. The tree company they hired was starting the removal of the walnut trees on his property. Walnuts produce a toxin called juglone that will kill grape vines, so the sooner the project was finished, the better. Nevertheless Steve hated to see the old trees go. They agreed to keep a few healthy walnuts in a mini-grove at the top of the hill and have them pruned and treated. They would then surround them with a three-strip buffer -- sweet woodruff that is juglone-tolerant, and then grass to picnic on and then lavender. Ivy told him that the sweet woodruff would become a circle of white lace when it bloomed in the springtime.

  When Mathew first suggested this whole vineyard business, Steve thought he would find it dull and unchallenging. However the more they delved into it, the more they found they had to learn. Instead of sitting around bored as he expected, Steve found himself drawn into it. Wine was such an intriguing combination of feminine and masculine aspects -- the delicacy of its bouquet had nuances absorbed from the terroir juxtaposed to the masculinity of the vines and barrels. The flavor of the grapes can improve as the vines aged becoming more knobby. Steve found it to be like Ivy and him -- as they aged, she softly mellowed and he grew gnarlier.

  Every time he thought about Astuto’s men going after Ivy, his resolve was renewed to see him, or theoretically them, brought to justice. First it had been an FBI money laundering case, then pursuit of a perp who had outwitted him, but since Ivy took a bullet, Steve's resolve to exact revenge was as fierce as that of his legendary Viking ancestors.

  ***

  On the second Wednesday of October, Mathew drove Ivy and Steve up to Portland to pick out backsplash tiles for the kitchen and to select the lighting fixtures, drawer pulls, cabinet knobs and other doo-dads for the house. Ivy had a good idea what she wanted; Steve tallied what they ordered into an electronic list.

  They went to three shops on the east side of town before moving over to the west side. Steve wandered off and selected, piece by piece, a box of luscious chocolate truffles at Moonstruck Chocolates. He then ordered three cayenne-spiked Hot Chocolates that he brought back to Mathew and Ivy who were engrossed in choosing a pot rack at Williams-Sonoma. Since it was after five before they finished, they picked up a couple of gourmet pizzas and salads at the nearby Pizzicato and left for Spook Hills. Both Steve and Ivy nodded off on the drive back, proving that the day of shopping was more tiring than a workday.

  After eating dinner, Mathew strolled up to the house to check on progress. The deliveries of the kitchen cabinets and appliances were scheduled for the next day and he wanted to be sure that they had room to store them. Fred was still at work going over the newly installed hardwood floors in the living and dining rooms with a big buffer mop. He jumped when he heard Mathew's voice, put the mop aside and walked over nervously. "Glad you back, bossman," Fred said. He always called Mathew 'bossman', in the same way he called Steve 'the big boss', but this time he said it without his usual broad smile of greeting.

  "What's up Fred?" Mathew noticed that he was so jumpy that he could barely stand still.

  "Something bad. New field."

  Mathew's heart sank into his stomach. Were those white burgundy bareroot grapes they planted sickly? He asked, but Fred silently motioned him outside. They walked down the hill to where the grapevines were catching the last rays of sunshine. The young vines had every appearance of good health.

  "What is it, Fred?"

  He dug the toe of his boot into the soil. Mathew waited.

  "They came."

  "Who came?"

  "The bad hombres. They say they kill my family, then me."

  Mathew sucked in his breath, held it and then blew it out heavily to dispel the surge of anger that threatened his normally cool demeanor. Fred was such a great kid and now he was in danger and worse, so was his family. "Let's walk and check the vines, like we have something here to be concerned about. We'll talk as we go. Try to act normal, in case they are somehow watching. What did you do?"

  "Said I think about it."

  "And?"

  "Jesus, man. They put a gun to my head. Almost pissed myself. I was alone here."

  "We left an agent. Where was he?"

  "Went for some lunch in town. Told me to stay inside."

  That negligent agent had to go. After another deep inhale and exhale, Mathew bent down to examine one of the plants, dug a bit in the soil and then motioned Fred down.

  "And you agreed to work with the bad hombres?"

  "I nodded at them. They punched me in the gut a few times, like for the joy of it."

  "Americans?" Mathew asked, standing back up and walking.

  He shook his head. "Spoke Spanish, but not my Mexicali Spanish."

  Mathew nodded and bent down by another plant. "Would you recognize them if you saw them again?"

  "Si. Them I no forget."

  Mathew regarded him sympathetically. "What do they want you to do?"

  "Report you guys. Tell them when you all gone again. Gave me a special cell phone."

  "Where is it?"

  He nodded up at the house. "Afraid it transmit, like on its own."

  Fred was proving himself to be both cautious and loyal. Mathew started rooting around in the ground. Fred joined him. The soil held warmth from the afternoon sun, making it feel comforting between his fingers. Mathew thought fiercely -- my vines, my land, and my soil -- that fucking perp will not take this away from me. He felt as protective as the homesteader who first settled this land.

  "My family?" Fred asked worriedly.

  "Let's wake up Steve. We'll get FBI coverage for your family or maybe have them relocate somewhere. Why didn't you call me?"

  "Afraid the phone, you know, bugged."

  They checked a few more plants, and then walked back up to Steve's trailer. Mathew had to knock repeatedly before Steve came to the door. Apparently he and Ivy had resumed their nap. Steve was barely awake standing there in his crooked boxers.

  "Get dressed. Bring Ivy."

  He went to speak but Mathew shook his head. Once Steve and Ivy stumbled out of the trailer, both armed and with their protective vests on, the four of them walked back down to the field, where they continued the random examination of the plants and soil as their cover, while repeating the conversation Mathew had with Fred.

  "Fucking bastards," Steve said. Ivy nodded agreement.

  "We need different agents here. Set up a rotation with agents out of various offices. That agent never should have left Fred alone. Maybe he's dirty or has been threatened too.”

  "Or just stupid."

&
nbsp; "My family?" Fred asked. "I got you guys, but they have nobody. Since he drink, my papá, he not the best, but Mama and my little sister -- how we help them?"

  "They all need protection. They could come here," Ivy suggested. "Or would that put them in more danger?"

  Steve was weighing the options. "More dangerous all clustered together. The Portland house is out, as it is a made location. We’ll get a couple of agents out to their house and hold it at that. Fred, you will need to go over there tomorrow and explain the situation. Mathew, see if Brian and Moll can do a stakeout tonight outside Fred's parents' place."

  "Maybe they go back to Mexico to stay with family?" Fred asked. He always said Mexico like the native he was, although most of the time, he tried very hard to speak English as Americans spoke it. However when he was scared, his English became more choppy.

  "Perp operates in Mexico. Too hard to cover them down there," Mathew observed.

  Ivy said firmly, "Secure their place for your Mom and sister. Your Dad goes into rehab."

  "He no go. We try."

  Steve looked grim. "He'll go."

  Fred said wistfully, "He was great papá. Taught me stuff. Good with knives. Then he drink, drink, drink. Go loco."

  Steve lifted an eyebrow at the knife comment. "What about knives?"

  Fred gave a half smile and made a flipping motion with his right hand. "Throwing. He taught me."

  "You carry one?"

  "Yeah, switch blade. I'm a, what you say? Pig-Squeaker?"

  "Pip-Squeak," Ivy said.

  "Si," Fred said, laughing at himself. "Pip-Squeak. Why you guys so good to me? I'm nobody."

  Steve regarded Fred with a friendly smile. "You're somebody to us. Somebody pretty darn special. Your loyalty is a gift."

  Fred's eyes filled with tears and he quickly knelt down by a vine. The light was fading and they were about to lose their reason for being out in the field.

  "From now on, you sleep in Mathew's trailer. Bedroll tonight. We'll get a sleeping bag and mat tomorrow. We'll also order a protective vest for you and a couple of more knives, along with a shoulder harness and a leg strap -- always good to have extra fire power, or knife power in this case."

  Ivy regarded Steve with surprise.

  "We’ll set up a target in the barn for him to hone his skill with a knife. Might come in handy. Let's go in. We're beat and we have to get up early to call the Chief."

  They started walking uphill back to the trailers. Mathew dialed Brian on his cell while they walked. The evening air shifted softly around them, but the gathering gloom and this latest threat made the night ominous. Mathew so wanted to be able to walk out among his vines without worrying about somebody opening fire. He wanted peace and a place to belong.

  "Oh, and Fred," Steve said, turning to look him in the eye. "You will report to those rats, as if you are cooperating."

  Fred gazed worriedly from Steve to Mathew, who nodded somberly at him. Fred thought for a moment and then made a little walking motion with his fingers, followed by a quick snap together of his hands.

  "That's right," Steve said. "We'll set a trap. We have a rat infestation."

  With that, they trooped back up to their trailers. Fred and Mathew headed for Fred's trailer to get his blankets so he could be somewhat comfortable on the floor in Mathew’s trailer. Before they parted, Steve gave them one of his stern looks. "From now on, nobody and I mean nobody, goes anywhere alone. Not to the house, not to town, not to the fields, not even to take a crap."

  This was a grim new twist. For Astuto to pick on a young man like Fred showed a lack of scruples that bad perps had. That not speaking Mexican-style Spanish was interesting. While it still left of big world of Spanish speakers, it confirmed their new theory that Astuto was Cuban. Mathew wondered what Steve had in mind for the trap -- likely nothing yet, although he would have a plan by morning.

  Fred took some time settling down in his bedroll but after twenty minutes he was sound asleep on the floor. Mathew checked for his own knife under his pillow and then glanced over at his gun on the ledge by his bed. He decided to reposition the trailers the next day to get them closer together with fewer sides exposed. They would also need to start searching delivery vans. He fell asleep making a mental list of changes for their protection and for the security of their vineyard as well.

  ***

  On Friday afternoon, Ivy found herself unable to concentrate on the research. The weather was surprisingly warm that day and she was a bit sleepy as the October sun streamed in through the barn doors, bathing her in its golden light. She was finding that their lives had a schizophrenic quality as they lived in the shadows of the contrast between their bucolic vineyard retreat and their work to catch this possible triumvirate of drug lords. Steve and Mathew found incidents in the Miami area that met some of their criteria, but none involved twin brothers and another sibling. They had exhausted the online systems in major cities and were researching an additional five-year span on either side of their target age for Astuto. Ivy was beginning to think this theory was pure conjecture spun out on wine and good food and no more than that, but Steve was determined to explore all aspects. She admired him for his commitment even though the work was certainly tedious.

  The two men were planning some kind of trap for the 'bad hombres' who went after Fred, but they were not sharing it with her. She decided to see if she could provoke a reaction from Steve.

  Secure Email from Ivy Littleton, October 11, 2013

  Steve, I have tried to have this conversation with you about what you are planning to thwart an attack by the perps, but you always play innocent or laugh it off. Consequently as you suggested while I was traveling, if we cannot talk about a topic then we will email each other. I sense that you and Mathew are planning some maneuver that you are hiding from me.

  If you do not trust me enough to make me part of your plans, I can accept that. I will be hurt, but I can understand. If you think you will protect me by keeping me in the dark, then you are very wrong. I worry the most about what I don't know. If you are contemplating something so dangerous that it will not get my buy-in, then maybe you had better give that some thought. You are not back to 100%. Mathew still has a slight limp that limits his agility. You need to leave the dangerous missions to active agents. Do you really want to leave me a widow before you even marry me? If you cannot tell me what you are planning, let me know how dangerous it will be. You owe me that.

  By the way, we have to catch these creeps so we can set a wedding date. Our house should be ready to occupy by the first of December. I so want to have the celebratory party when we have our new home decorated for Christmas. If we are lucky, that evening will be a little cool and you can take me on a magic carpet ride by the fire in our bedroom on the new sheepskin rug, as well as spend time christening our new bed.

  With impatient love, Ivy

  Secure Email from Steve Nielsen, October 11, 2013

  Ms. Vine, around four this afternoon, you and I will leave Fred and Mathew behind, take a walk up to our little grove of walnut trees to have some ‘us time’ sitting on the grass up there. I will tell you then what we are planning. Could I talk you into bringing along a thermos of hot chocolate and some cookies?

  Mathew and I do trust you, but we want to get this scheme worked out in our own minds before we let you poke holes in it. I have setup a secure casebook, which includes scenarios for trapping rodents. If our plan holds up to the "Ivy Test", I'll give you access to the casebook.

  Wow, Ivy -- I may need to order some Viagra to keep up (so to speak) with your plans for our wedding night. I can't wait to get out of that trailer and feeling fully fit again. I think we should start doubling up on our exercises -- uh, at least the ones from physical therapy.

  Lovingly, Steve

  Text from Ivy to Steve, Same Day

  C U LTR. NO V DRG. TK U AS U R. LV IVY

  ***

  Mathew too was reaching the end of his patience with living in his trailer. Having Fred
sleeping on the floor and sharing meals with him did not help. Even though Fred was a great kid, living together was too cozy for comfort. If Mathew even belched, Fred would laugh. Just that day Mathew had seen a pretty woman on a bicycle down on the road. He and Fred were out for a periodic survey of the property, sampling the soil by the end of the driveway where they would do a late planting of a different variety of white burgundy grapes once they arrived from France in the next couple of days. The woman on the bike looked over at Mathew, smiled and gave a wave as she went by. She even glanced back over her shoulder at him.

  Mathew could not imagine why. He had a two-day stubble, his shirt was grimy from wresting with the bucket on the tractor and his baggy shorts were anything but flattering. She was maybe thirty with long, dark, straight hair blowing out behind her. Riding as she was in cutoff jeans, a tee shirt and old-fashioned sneakers, she made a pleasing image. She had a nice figure, tall and slim. Mathew wondered who she was, where she lived and if she happened to be single. This was not a good time for him to get involved. He wondered if there would ever be one.

  Fred teased him about the woman. He did an imitation of Mathew with his jaw dropped open for Steve and Ivy. Mathew liked Fred, but he noticed every little thing and lacked an internal censor on making fun. Even so, something about that pretty woman captured his attention and he decided to find out who she was.

  Chapter 20

  The next morning, as each of them was again wondering if their theory on the three brothers was a dead-end, Steve let out a yell of victory.

  "Hey, quick! Check this out. Mathew, get the lights."

  He jumped up to connect his laptop to the projector that they had rigged up to shine on an improvised screen made from an ironed white sheet hung on the barn wall. Mathew slid the barn doors shut. They had enough light from the windows to operate and still see any projected computer images.