Spy Now, Pay Later

by Diane Henders

  God, not another shrink. Dr. Rawling was more than enough.

  “Thank you, but I think I’ll be all right.”

  “If you change your mind…”

  The waiter glanced in our direction, and Parr leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry, how rude of me. Please.” He gestured at the menu I hadn’t even opened yet. “I hope you’ll find something you enjoy. The food is excellent here.”

  I opened the menu but my overstressed brain refused to process the offerings. Closing it again with a sigh, I appealed to Parr. “Would you choose something for me? You have such good taste, and I…” I eased out a sigh, hoping I wasn’t overdoing my act. “I’m having a hard time concentrating after…” I made a helpless gesture and took another sip of water.

  Parr gave me a sharp look.

  Damn, I had overdone it. He wasn’t likely to forget my ball-crushing performance at his office Christmas party. The shrinking-violet act wasn’t going to cut it.

  He didn’t call me on it, though. When the waiter returned, he placed our order in fluent French before returning his attention to me. “Let’s talk about more pleasant things. Did you enjoy your day in Vegas?”

  He probably didn’t want the truth. I didn’t give it to him.

  “It was great, thanks. The Venetian was amazing. And the wedding was…” I hesitated. “…lovely,” I finished, and swallowed before quavering, “Poor Yana. And poor John.”

  Satisfaction flickered in Parr’s face for an instant before warm concern masked it. Yep, definitely pumping me for information.

  “How is he holding up?” Parr asked. “I haven’t been able to contact him to offer my condolences.”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since the morning at the hospital,” I lied. “He looked terrible. He said he had a concussion, but… I’m sure it’s shock and grief, too. I can’t imagine how hard this is for him, to lose her right after they got married.”

  Parr assumed an undertaker’s expression of grave comfort, sympathy practically oozing from his pores. “At least they were married.” He sighed. “So very sad. I hope you’ll be able to comfort him.”

  “Um. Me?”

  “Of course. You’re friends, aren’t you?”

  “Uh, kind of…”

  “Ex-lovers, I believe you said.” He gave me a narrow-eyed look.

  “Well, yes… but like I told you, he obviously wasn’t that interested in me. It would be pretty tacky to come onto him now.”

  Parr looked as though he was considering the irony of a middle-aged porn star objecting to tackiness, but fortunately he chose not to go there.

  “Of course,” he said instead. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Though… if you’re interested in a small business opportunity…” He hesitated for a perfectly-timed interval before leaning back in his chair again with a smile. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t discuss business before our entrée even arrives.”

  Oh, he was good. Dangling a shiny lure in front of a petty criminal.

  I pretended to bite.

  Leaning forward and pitching my voice a little lower, I murmured, “It’s all right, Nick, I know you’re a busy man. Please, go ahead.”

  He smiled and leaned forward again. “Well, Yana had just taken over as director of operations here in Calgary-”

  “Well, I’ll be danged! If it ain’t Charlie Daniels!” The loudmouth was in full cry again. Beside us, the prune-faced old man stiffened.

  A moment later, a mountain of expensive suit pushed by to slap the old man’s bony back. “Charlie Daniels, as I live an’ breathe! How the hell are ya?”

  Pruneface froze, his nostrils flaring and whitening while he stared with obvious revulsion at the man looming over him.

  I stared, too.

  He looked close to four hundred pounds. The fancy western-cut suit jacket barely contained a gigantic swell of white-shirted belly tucked into voluminous slacks, all of it supported by elaborately tooled western boots. A florid tie encircled a massive neck bound by a crisp white collar, and ostentatious diamond rings flashed on two of his fingers. He reached to pummel the old man good-naturedly again, revealing a gold watch the size of a fried egg on his wrist. I glimpsed a tattoo above it before the starched white cuff resettled.

  It got worse.

  A black moustache and beard adorned a far-too-familiar face. Hellhound’s bruised features grinned out from under the most atrocious comb-over I’d ever seen.

  I quickly averted my gaze. Parr was staring up at Hellhound with the same horrified expression I felt on my own face, and he hurriedly looked away, too. The little old lady let out a mew of shock.

  Parr began to say something to me, but the words died on his lips as Hellhound seized the woman’s hand and planted a big smacking kiss on it. Frozen, Parr and I sat facing each other, eyes trained sideways to watch the drama unfold.

  “Now, ma’am, you’re lookin’ lovely today,” Hellhound declaimed in his Texan accent. He swept her a gallant bow, the lank black strands of the horrible comb-over flopping into his eyes. He flung them back with a flamboyant gesture and turned again to the speechless old man. “Charlie, ya ol’ dog, how’s tricks?”

  “Who…?” The old man shook his head as if recovering from a punch before drawing himself up to his stiffest disapproving-butler posture. “I have no idea who you are. Please leave us.” The ice in his voice would have frozen anyone but a salesman.

  Hellhound bellowed out a guffaw. “You’re such a card, Charlie! It’s me, Al Hamlin! Maybe ya don’t recognize me ‘cause my face’s a little beat up. A guy took a poke at me a coupla days ago, for no reason at all ‘cept I told his wife she was real purty. Some folks sure are excitable.”

  “I do not know you. I do not wish to know you. Go away.” If poor old Pruneface got any stiffer, he was going to shatter into a million pieces.

  Hellhound took a step back, frowning. “Ya really ain’t Charlie Daniels? Ya ain’t pullin’ my leg?”

  “Most certainly not.”

  Hellhound shouted with sudden laughter and slapped the poor man on the back again. “Well, shut my mouth! Ma’am; sir; I surely do beg your pardon. You’re the spittin’ image of my buddy Charlie. I’m sorry to disturb ya. Let me buy your lunch.”

  “That won’t be necessary. Excuse us…” The old man gestured to the maître d’ who had been hovering anxiously. “May we have a different table, please?”

  “Of course, Monsieur, this way please…”

  “Well, dang it, who’d a’ thought?” Hellhound exclaimed to the restaurant at large before turning to waddle back to his table, shaking his head and chuckling.

  Parr and I sat in shell-shocked silence until Parr recovered enough to take a largish sip of his scotch on the rocks. “I’m sorry for that. Not at all the usual clientele. Would you like to change tables?”

  “I… uh…” I gulped some ice water. “No, it’s okay…”

  Goddammit, I was going to tear Hellhound a brand new asshole. And Kane, too, for letting him do this…

  “Where were we?” Parr asked.

  My brain was still paralyzed. I stared blankly at Parr. “I haven’t a clue.”

  The waiter chose that moment to arrive with our food, and I seized the distraction with gratitude. The beautifully-plated salmon fillet garnished with golden caviar should have made my mouth water, but it might as well have been cardboard. I ate mechanically for a few minutes, completely oblivious to the flavours.

  “How is your meal?” Parr inquired.

  “Uh, really good. Thanks.” I swallowed another mouthful without tasting it.

  “So, we were discussing business,” Parr prompted.

  “Right.” I gathered my scattered wits. “You were telling me about Yana.”

  “Yes. As I was saying, she was our director of operations, but also a personal friend.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said automatically.

  “Thank you. Her death was a terrible shock.” His undertaker’s expression returned. “I wish I had a
keepsake to honour her memory.”

  Yeah, like maybe a deadly secret weapon?

  “I’m sure that would be a great comfort,” I agreed.

  “It’s doubly hard, because we had such a lovely conversation before she died,” he continued. “She was so happy when she called me from Vegas after the wedding. I can still hear her voice. She had such a lovely accent…”

  He trailed off and I nodded sympathetically. What a load of shit.

  Parr gazed into space, his face a tragic mask. “She said, ‘Nick, I got for you the most perfect present to say big thank you for the trip’.” He sighed. “I wish I knew what it was. But it probably burned.”

  “Maybe it was in her luggage,” I offered with my best fake concern. “Mine was okay. The fire didn’t get to the cargo area.”

  “No, she told me she was carrying it onboard, that she didn’t want it to break. So it must have been fragile.”

  I pulled a frown. “Oh.”

  Wait for it…

  “Did you notice her carrying anything when she got on?” Right on cue.

  “I wasn’t really paying attention. You don’t have any idea how big it might have been, do you?”

  Parr had stopped eating and his expression of fake sadness had faded to expose the hard calculation in his eyes. As if realizing his slip, he took another drink and sighed, shaking his head. “I really don’t know. She knew of my fondness for fine spirits, so it might have been a bottle of something exotic. Did you notice any unusual bottles in the cabin?”

  Bingo. He was definitely fishing for the bottle-shaped weapon.

  I put on a worried face. “I hope it wasn’t one of the bottles that broke in the serving cart. Most of them smashed. But maybe the crash investigator would let you check them to see if there was anything unusual in the cart. Maybe you could salvage some pieces of the bottle, just for a keepsake.”

  “No, I already inventoried the remaining contents of the cabin. There was nothing unusual.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “I’m sorry to hear that. You’ve lost so much.”

  “Insurance will cover the material damages.” Parr brushed a hand across his eyes. “The loss of a friend… no money can compensate.”

  I nodded sympathetic understanding and applied myself to the remains of my salmon. Come on, Parr, get to the point.

  As if heeding my mental command, he swallowed the last bite of his meal and leaned forward. “Which brings me to ask a favour of you. I’m devastated by the loss of a dear friend, so I can only imagine what her husband is experiencing. I can’t bring myself to ask him about her personal effects at a time like this, but…”

  He hesitated.

  I played along. “Would you like me to ask him if she had something for you? I know how hard this is for you, so if I can help…”

  “Would you?” He flashed me a pleading look. “I think it would be so much easier for him to bear… coming from a close friend like you. It would mean a lot to me…”

  Enough, already. Time to let Arlene’s gold-digging personality out to play.

  I sat back in my chair and gave him a flat stare. “How much?”

  Chapter 9

  Parr’s jaw dropped as if I’d slapped him. “I beg your pardon?”

  I eyed him over the remains of our expensive meal and shrugged. “We’re businesspeople. What’s it worth to you for me to ask John about your present from Yana?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You seem to forget you’re already on an extremely generous retainer from my company.”

  I let my lip curl. “And you seem to forget I already did you a favour attending that wedding in Vegas. And I haven’t seen any money yet. And I damn near got killed on your shitty airplane. Your fifty grand is used up, and you’re lucky I’m not suing you for damages into the bargain. If you want any more favours, you better cough up the fifty K and then some.”

  His civilized façade dropped, unmasking the soulless stare of a raptor about to shred its prey to bleeding ribbons. I hid my shiver and used every ounce of my self-control to hold his gaze.

  Bad, bad idea to piss this man off…

  A moment later he blinked and his eyes came to life again above a smile as thin as a surgical incision. “Fine. I’ll issue you a certified cheque in the amount of fifty thousand dollars. In exchange, you will sign a release stating that you waive all rights to any further damages in respect to the airplane incident and any further… issues… that may arise as a result of it.”

  “Fine.” I managed not to dissolve into a quivering puddle. “So how much will you pay me to look for Yana’s gift?”

  “That depends on whether you deliver anything or not.”

  “Suppose I do?”

  “That depends on what it is.”

  More damn jockeying. My nerves were stretched to breaking point. Hellhound had been silent for too long behind me. The back of my neck crawled with the expectation of another Texas-style outburst.

  I forced a bored sigh and tucked my hands under the table to dry my sweaty palms on the napkin. “What do you want it to be?”

  He studied me in silence, that predatory blue gaze flicking over me. God, please don’t let him see the pulse pounding in my throat…

  “Intact,” he said at last. “I want it to be intact. Bring me an inventory of everything she had, excluding clothing. Don’t let him throw anything away.”

  “That’s going to be difficult. And it might take me a while.”

  “Ten thousand dollars if you deliver in three days. A thousand less for every extra day it takes.”

  I injected a whine into my voice. “That’s not fair. I don’t even know where he is. And for all I know he’s thrown her things away already.”

  “Then you’d better hurry.”

  The waiter approached to whisk our plates away. As soon as the waiter departed, Parr rose. “Enjoy your dessert. The meal is paid for.”

  He turned and strode away.

  As my crème brulée arrived, the hearty voice boomed behind me again. “Well, that was mighty fine eatin’, an’ I thank ya. Here’s an extra hundred for ya. Don’t spend it all in one place now, y’hear?” Another bellowed guffaw made everyone in the dining room flinch. In the ensuing silence, I tracked Hellhound’s progress toward the door by the sound of shuffling chairs and jovial exclamations of “Excuse me, ma’am! Pardon me, sir! Y’all have a good day, now!”

  At last the disturbance ceased and a collective breath of relief rose from the patrons. The murmur of conversation slowly resumed.

  I picked up my dessert spoon with quivering fingers and tried to relax. Just breathe…

  “Madame?”

  The waiter’s voice made me start violently, the spoon flying out of my hand to clatter loudly against the plate.

  “J-” I bit off my reflexive blasphemy and clutched my chest instead.

  “Madame, I am so sorry to startle you.” He offered me a deferential half-bow. “Would you like tea or coffee?”

  “Tea. Please,” I stammered.

  He bowed again and withdrew, and after letting out a long unsteady breath, I made another attempt with the spoon.

  By the time I scraped out the last vestiges of crème brulée, I had recovered enough to taste it. I finished my tea, pondering.

  I was probably pretty safe now. Surely Parr wouldn’t assign me to retrieve Yana’s personal effects if he intended to murder me before I had a chance to comply.

  Though there was a pretty good chance he’d murder me afterward…

  Worry about that later.

  Replaying our conversation in my head, I sighed. I didn’t think I had said anything that would lead Parr to believe Kane or I might know more than I had admitted. But I couldn’t be sure. I had been so rattled, I couldn’t remember exactly what I’d said.

  Dammit, if I’d known Hellhound was going to show up despite my orders, I could have taken advantage of his phenomenal memory. If he’d been within earshot, he would have been able to repeat the entire conversation
verbatim.

  But I was pretty sure I hadn’t said anything incriminating.

  Pretty sure Parr wouldn’t have goons waiting in the parking lot to snatch me and torture me…

  I sighed and pushed to my feet. Might as well get it over with.

  When I emerged warily into the cold afternoon sun, the sight of the black Hummer parked near my car made my heart accelerate. The bulky figure still sat behind the wheel.

  Dammit, why, why couldn’t I develop some common sense to compensate for my complete lack of spy skills? I hadn’t even researched what kind of vehicle Parr drove. Was the Hummer registered to him? Or…

  A moment later I brained up enough to check the license plate. Rental. Likely not Parr’s vehicle, then.

  Realizing I was conspicuously hovering, I drew a deep breath and strode toward my car, my fingers itching for my gun.

  As I drew nearer, the figure began to gesticulate and I sucked in a breath of relief when an obnoxious drawl emanated from the inch of open window on the driver’s side.

  “…an’ tell that young pup to get out there an’ start diggin’. Ya gotta work your way up in this business an’ never take no for an answer…” Hellhound continued his cellphone monologue without looking at me, waving a hand now and then as if for emphasis.

  I slid into my car and pressed the button to send my superfluous text message: ‘Leaving now’. Hellhound made no sign of recognition and I drove away, leaving him to harangue the parking lot and his imaginary caller.

  It couldn’t be that easy.

  Eyes peeled for any vehicle that stayed in my vicinity, I took a circuitous route away from the restaurant, stopping at a corner store, a coffee shop, and a pharmacy long enough to purchase a small item in each while watching traffic through the glass. When I spied no sign of pursuit after half an hour, I sank into the driver’s seat and sent my final text: ‘See you at home’. Then I headed for Hellhound’s condo, the ebbing stress leaving my muscles as limp as dishrags.

  I drove on autopilot, my brain spinning while my body guided the car. A few blocks from Hellhound’s place, a sudden thought jabbed a lance of fear into my heart.