a Touch of Ice

by L. j. Charles

  There was a very male, testosterone-laden look in his eyes that I hoped no one else noticed. Time to change the subject. “Did Donny tell you the names of the two guys that he recognized from my storyboard?”

  “Yeah. The bald guy is Carl Pestorelli, and the fat one is Fred Hanson, known to his friends as Freddie Fingers.”

  “So Messy is the one he didn’t recognize?”

  Adam nodded. “We don’t have an ID on Messy yet. Far as we know, he never worked for the Civitellis.”

  “Okay. I want to get out to the barn. I’ll…touch things, see if I can learn anything. Maybe some info about Messy will pop up.”

  Mitch and I did a round of “see you later,” but Violet signaled the waitress for more coffee, she and Adam oddly silent. I’d win a bet, hands down, on who they were meeting with next.

  Twenty-three

  Mitch maneuvered his F-150 out of the parking lot, tires scrunching against pavement. He gave me a sideways glance, assessing. “Are you up to gathering impressions from two places this morning? The barn and the stable Violet talked about?”

  “I think so, but I can’t say for sure because I never know exactly what to expect. If there’s a lot of violence in the images, it can wear me out quickly. It’s a personal thing for me to return to the barn, confronting my fears, maybe. I’m not sure why, but I’d like to start there. If things go well, I’m all for exploring the stable too. Get this wrapped up.”

  The merest trace of a smile tugged at his lips. “Not sure I’ll know how to act without a crime to solve.”

  “I know. Weapons and gunshot wounds aside, it has been challenging to follow the threads, see what we can untangle. It’s the first time I’ve used my touch for anything like this, and I have to admit, it feels good. Right.”

  I tapped his arm as we turned off Farrington Road. “Can we park back here, hike in? I’d like to approach this slowly, see how it feels from a distance.”

  Mitch parked without comment, his hands tight around the steering wheel. “I’m not comfortable parking this far away, seeing as the last time you were here it ended with a gunshot wound.”

  “Un-huh, and I have the scar to prove it. I’m not going after bodily harm here. Adam was almost positive whoever shot me wouldn’t try again, and I agree with him. His theory about it being a warning to stay away from the barn rings true. I really think he, she, whoever, didn’t want me near that barn until it had been thoroughly searched by the bad guys. Missing diamonds tend to make the thief twitchy. Just sayin’.”

  “Even so, stay close to me, hmmm?” He tucked his gun into his waistband, and a jolt of unease froze between my shoulder blades. I had to do something, find some way to deal with the sudden plethora of weapons in my life. The rational part of me knew that guns didn’t kill, but this was Mitch, and his hands touched me. I shook it off. Now wasn’t the time.

  He grabbed his camera, and we were on our way.

  “You’re going to take pictures? That’s a great idea. We can compare them to the other ones, see if we spot any changes.”

  “Un-huh, but my mind was in a different place. I want pictures of you, working, doing your thing, being Everly. Something tangible I can take with me when I’m on assignment.”

  My brain stopped. A total short circuit. Uneasiness crept along my nerves and my left eye started to twitch. No one but my parents had ever wanted pictures of me. It was a little, umm, nope, a lot scary in a nice sort of way. “Good thing that hair conditioner worked. I wouldn’t want to be immortalized with the mother of all bed heads.”

  We progressed slowly, taking in our surroundings as we approached the barn. It looked the same but didn’t feel the same. I held my hand up in a stop gesture when we were about twenty feet away. “I need a minute to adjust to the people who’ve been here since I was shot. It feels so different. Then there’s facing the scene of the crime. Didn’t know it would bring up the pain and fear from my memories quite so strongly.”

  Mitch turned me to face him. “This is your show, Sunshine, and we’re going to play it your way. You can take as much time as you need, or we can leave, come back later, or not at all.” He kissed the palm of my hand. “There’s no pressure and no expectations.”

  “Easy for you to say. My curiosity has a totally different perspective. Have you got paper and pen to write down what I see?”

  “Ready when you are.”

  I inched my way to the barn, remembering how Violet had me touch the ground, how that simple action made it easier to get my bearings. I hunkered down, brushing my fingers along the ground. “Too many people. Fuzzy images. Let’s keep going.”

  I stopped just inside the door. “Can we prop this door open? Let some light in. There’s no way I’m touching anything I can’t see. No telling what’s been in here.”

  Mitch rolled a large rock in front of the door. My body tingled with anticipation, and I knew immediately that my destination was the far right corner of the barn.

  I took my time getting there, taking in the changing sensations around me, then paused to touch the wall halfway back. “Shaved Head and Monster Man had an argument. Monster Man is coldly furious. No red-faced screaming rants for this dude. I don’t hear things, but it looks like Shaved Head is shrugging, saying something about not having a clue. And there’s panic in his eyes, like he’s terrified of Monster Man.”

  “Sounds like a good call. From what everyone says, West is one nasty bastard.”

  I got almost to the back corner, then bent to touch the floor. Images flashed by so fast that the sensation of speed knocked me down.

  Mitch held a hand to me, jerked it back. “I’m not sure what to do here. You want me to help you up, or would touching me mess you up?”

  “Thanks for asking. It would mess things up and it’s going to take me forever to sort through this as it is. I closed my eyes and let the images float around, waited for them to settle. There’s all the crime scene people, then…oh, here we go. Messy and Shaved Head. Another argument only not so heated as the one with Monster Man. Messy held out his hand, looks like he was expecting something. Next image, he pulls a small black bag out of his pocket—kind of like show and tell—I think Shaved Head is supposed to produce one of these little bags. Whoa. Messy is, ugh, disturbing. His expression is gleeful, for lack of a better word. I think he’s looking forward to Shaved Head suffering for whatever he’s done. Messy is scary, Mitch. Almost as bad as Monster Man.”

  I opened my eyes, took in the man watching over me, and my heart thumped—sent a jolt of happy through my chest. “Part of the answer is here. This is where the diamonds and sparklies came from on my storyboard. These guys are jewel thieves. Hot ice. I think this is the reason behind Tony’s death. Now if we can just figure out how the diamonds are connected to him…”

  Spy-work induces hunger. I rummaged in Mitch’s backpack for a candy bar while I hit speed dial for Violet. Thought I’d try communicating just to switch things up for the secretive spy types.

  “Hey,” I said by way of a greeting. “Mitch and I just canvassed the barn. Looks to me like Shaved Head, Monster Man, and Messy are dealing in diamonds, maybe other precious stones. Shaved Head, I’m guessing from the images I picked up, lost one of those little black bags they use to store jewels. It looked like they argued about it. I didn’t pick up any sound. Something to be grateful for and disappointed in at the same time.”

  “Hang on, let me fill Adam in.”

  I heard a click. Sounded like she pushed a button, probably Mute, but it didn’t work because their conversation came through like a conference call. And for once, I was innocent of intentional snooping. Except for staying on the line. Listening.

  “All right, here’s the deal.” Violet’s voice came through the phone line with a bit of static crackling in the background. The sound of dishes and oldies music told me they were still sitting in the booth at Gypsy’s.

  “El and Mitch are at the barn, and she’s picked up images to link West with Pestorelli and Mess
y. Looks like Pestorelli misplaced a bag of jewels belonging to West, which means we should expect his body to show up sometime in the near future—unless West has a specific use for him. El said they’re heading over to the stable next. Either of you have anything you want me to pass on before they hit the stable?”

  Ah-ha. Either of you. Pierce had joined them. In the next second, my supposition was validated. “Right on target with the jewel trafficking we’ve linked to West,” he growled.

  It rocks to be right.

  “Danger level?” Violet snapped.

  “Low. West is done with those buildings as transfer points. Probably why Messy was at the mall. I’m guessing they moved the operation to a public place because he’s tying up loose ends—about to cut and run.”

  “West knows we don’t like to work in congested areas,” Violet agreed. “Messy must be their runner. You’re thinking he’s using Fielding, Inc. to shift the jewels through museum transfers?”

  “Yeah. We need to move fast. If he’s running true to form, Fielding, Inc. is about to disappear along with the opportunity for us to eliminate West.”

  Long pause.

  “Let’s hope Super Fingers can pick up on some future events at the stable. We need to know his next move, and where the fuck the local Fielding operation is based. I’m fed up with this guy, want to finish the job.” The brogue was heavy in Pierce’s voice.

  “We’re in total agreement there,” Violet said. “Adam, you want to add anything?”

  “Tell them I’ll meet them at El’s this afternoon. I want a full report on these…excursions as soon as they get back. If this keeps up I may have to bring her in for questioning. Something I don’t want to explain to, hell, anybody.”

  I shuddered, my body in complete agreement with Adam.

  “How high is the probability someone on West’s payroll has been following Donny?” Violet asked. “One of us, better yet, all of us need to keep an eye on El. If West thinks she’s involved, well, there’s no way I’ll let her become a target in a game of Who’s Got the Jewels.”

  “The probability isn’t in her favor.” Pierce sounded about as rough as I felt. And didn’t that just make my day?

  I heard another click and Violet came back on the line. I put my phone on speaker so Mitch and I could both listen while she repeated all the pertinent stuff she wanted us to know. “Did you get all that?” she finally asked.

  “Got it. Mitch and I will phone Adam as soon as we get back.” I broke the connection.

  No reason to mention her mute button wasn’t working right. No point in starting a conversation like that when it was a totally inappropriate time to deal with all the undisclosed information and nuances of friendship we needed to talk about.

  Listening in on Violet’s conversation with Adam and Pierce gave me plenty of time to finish the candy bar and give a second one some serious thought. During that whole conversation she’d sounded…off. I chalked it up to stress, but this secrecy stuff had gone on long enough. I was done waiting for the right time. The right time was as soon as Mitch and I got home.

  “Ready to head for the stable?” Mitch asked.

  “Ready.” Ideas were swirling through my mind. “You know, I worked with Peggy, remember the police artist, to provide sketches of Shaved Head, Messy, and Pudgy, but completely overlooked Monster Man. Probably because we know he’s Delano West from the trace on the license plate. I’m not sure how a picture will help, but I definitely want one. I’m gonna call Violet back and find out if Adam can bring Peggy with him this afternoon. Either that, or if they have a picture of this Delano West guy, maybe he can bring me a copy.”

  Mitch looked at me with squinty eyes and a wrinkled brow.

  “I want to add it to my storyboard,” I answered his silent question. “They know what he looks like, but I don’t.”

  Mitch nodded. “Give ‘em a call, see what Adam says.”

  It was a quick call. “Humph,” I grunted, snapping my phone shut. “He’s going to see if Peggy’s free, but I have the feeling they don’t think this is pressing. Apparently they have pictures of him, all different, and figure that since he changes his appearance as easily as a mythical shape-shifter, it doesn’t matter how he looks at any given time. Guess I’m the only one who thinks this is important.”

  “Don’t know. I do know I got some nice shots of you while you were working back at the barn.” He winked at me. “What do you think about spending the night at my place? I could scan the pictures, make some copies. Then we could take a moonlight ride on the bike, maybe give you your first lesson.”

  “Me? Drive the bike?” Excitement hit my solar plexus with a sharp quiver.

  “Yeah. You. Motorcycle goddess and sea nymph. In my mind, one and the same. And then maybe we could share a bottle of wine, look at the moon and stars through the windows surrounding my bed. You’d look…irresistible in moonlight. Something I’d really like to see.”

  I built a quick picture of myself as a motorcycle goddess bathed in moonlight. No way did the rocking chair vision of me ever drive a bike. I pushed the thought away and focused on the rest of Mitch’s plans. “You have windows surrounding your bed? I missed that because I didn’t trespass on the upper level of your house. I couldn’t bring myself to go up there on my visit. Seemed too much like trespassing.”

  “Surprised your curiosity survived that decision.” There was a glimmer of mischief in his voice. “So, what do you think? My place tonight? ”

  An interesting combination of peace and anxiety settled around me. His place? Tonight? What did that mean? I tiptoed around the sensation with a question. “You’re not tired of me yet?”

  “Not yet. Am I supposed to be tired of you?” he asked with a grin. “You’re not that difficult to be around. Look, it’s like this. I’ll be away on assignment again in a few days, and I want you in my bed.”

  I must have looked shocked because he jumped right in with more words. “Not just for the sex.” He quirked an eyebrow at me. “Although if the opportunity arises I won’t be turning it down. There’s no pressure here. My job doesn’t allow me to have normal, convenient relationships. If it’s too much too soon, that’s okay. Although, until these sons of bitches are caught, I don’t want you staying alone.”

  Annoyingly macho as that sounded, I secretly agreed with him. “Tonight at your house would be great. I’m not good at relationships either, haven’t had many, any really, so I’m twitchy, off balance with someone caring about me, wanting to spend time with me. It’s uncomfortable…in a good way. I think.”

  “Un-huh. How about we take this one crisis at a time. There’s no food at home. Any preference on grocery stores?”

  He did the single eyebrow thing.

  I tried to find words, any words that would express the unpredictable and ever-changing thoughts rolling around in my head, but Mitch pulled to a stop and the sight of the worn-down stable captured my full attention.

  It had photographed well. Naturally. Mitch wouldn’t take a photograph that didn’t have atmosphere and an extraordinary amount of artistic character—even if Tony did give him the list of buildings to work from. “I hoped it has some secrets to share with me.”

  “Me too, Sunshine.”

  We got out of the car, holding hands as we wandered toward the stable. “This feels entirely different from the barn,” I said, turning to look at Mitch. He’d dropped behind, making noises about the light, and had his camera focused on me. A little unnerving, dating a photographer. We were going to have to discuss the always-look-photographable concept.

  “Different, how?” he asked as he skimmed through the photos on his camera.

  “Less angry, more sinister I guess.” I stopped in front of a set of huge doors, tentatively ran my fingers along the surface. “Nothing here. Is there another way in?”

  “Looks like a side door over there.” Mitch pointed toward a door that hung by a single hinge.

  Wanting to get on with it, I jogged to the door an
d brushed fingertips brush over surface. “Oh yeah, this is it. Well, isn’t that interesting. Not only do I have images of Shaved Head and Messy, but Tony was here. He came through this door, Mitch, and he looks…nervous. Shaky. Preoccupied and disturbed. It’s hard watching his expressions through the images because I can’t pinpoint them.”

  I stepped over the threshold, keeping my fingers in touch with the wall. “Do you think Tony went into business, like outside the family, with Shaved Head? From what I’ve heard about Mama Civitelli, that would be amazingly stupid. Was Tony…on the left of the bell curve, intelligence-wise, I mean?”

  “Nope. He knew better than to work against the family, stayed away from their business, focused on his work as a mechanic. He wouldn’t change his mind about that. Tony didn’t want to be on the run.” Mitch frowned, the autumn sparkle fading from his eyes. “But it looks like that’s exactly what happened.”

  I continued into the stable, touching the edge of a stall door. “The complete cast of characters passed through this door. It’s like Grand Central with the comings and goings.”

  I entered the stall, being careful where I stepped, looked around trying to decide what to touch. I knew it had to be the floor because of the image I’d picked up from Pierce. An extremely unappealing prospect.

  “Do you have any wipes in your car? I need to touch this floor, and I’ll be darned if I’m going to do it without a clean-up plan in place.”

  “Wipes are available. Want me to get them, or would you rather I stay with you?”

  “Get the wipes, by all means, get the wipes.”

  After Mitch left, I circled the stall. It didn’t take long. Horse stalls aren’t all that big, even oversized ones. There was definitely something familiar here. Tynan Pierce? I mucked around in the hay some more. Yep, it was Pierce. No mistaking that energy imprint, and the information matched perfectly with the image I’d picked up from Violet’s deck.