When in Bruges (Humorous Romantic Mystery)

by Nic Saint

  “That’s none of your business,” she said.

  He waited for her to supply further details, and when she wasn’t forthcoming—nothing could induce her to confide in this man—he finally relented.

  “If you must know, I’m retrieving some pictures for a client of mine, all right?”

  Kate glowered. “What pictures?”

  “I’m afraid that’s confidential,” said Chris, still refusing to look at her.

  She took in his profile, now clearly visible in the light from the street: he was as handsome as ever; all dark curls, chiseled cheekbones, full lips and slightly crooked nose. He’d broken it once, he’d told her, playing hide and seek with his cousin and falling from the tree he’d selected as his hiding place of choice.

  She gave herself a little shake. Ancient history.

  “Okay, here’s the deal,” she said. “You’re here to get some pictures for someone. So am I. Why don’t we open the safe together, get what we came here for and go our separate ways?”

  He frowned. “You’re also here for pictures?”

  “Yes, I am. So what do you say?”

  “Pictures of…”

  “Like I said, that’s none of your business.”

  A set look came into his face, and he nodded once. “All right. You get your stuff and I get mine. No questions asked.”

  “Great.”

  “Fine.”

  His jaw working, Chris knelt down in front of the safe, while Kate stood watching over him. She just hoped he’d be quick about it. She really didn’t want to spend more time with this man than was strictly necessary. Since arriving in Bruges that morning, she’d already met him twice. What were the odds? She knew Bruges was a small town, but not so small that they should keep running into each other.

  “Is it open yet?” she said impatiently, tapping her foot.

  “No, it’s not,” he growled. “Give me a minute, will you?”

  Pursing her lips, she watched him work. He’d obviously done this before, for he expertly applied the tools of the trade with practiced ease. Of course, a private detective must be proficient in all aspects of the job. She couldn’t help admire the deftness with which he worked, focused and at ease, his hands going about their business with a certain elegance.

  She remembered how those hands had felt on her body the one night they spent together. It had been glorious, the high point of her life. He’d been the first man to ever touch her like that, with so much loving tenderness, his gentle caress stirring her to heights she’d never before experienced. Lying in his arms, she’d felt so loved, so protected, so wonderful…

  She cleared her throat. “Well? How much longer is this gonna take?”

  He looked up and gave her a cold stare that should have shut her up, but she’d be damned if it did.

  “I really don’t have all night, you know,” she said after a moment’s pause. She wanted him to look at her, not ignore her, and this seemed as good a way as any to accomplish that particular goal.

  He gave her another glare, and she felt the shivers running down her spine. Oh, why did he still affect her so? She should be indifferent by now. At least she hadn’t burst into tears yet, like that morning. Good thing he hadn’t seen it. It would have made his triumph complete. Men like Chris Van Damme lived and died to sweep women off their feet, talk them into their bed and then brutally dump them after a single night.

  Tilting up her chin, she said, “Let me have a try. You obviously don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “I know perfectly well what I’m doing,” he said. “I’m almost there.”

  “Almost isn’t good enough,” she said coldly. “Let me try.”

  “No, I’ve got this!” he said, now fiddling furiously with the safe’s knob.

  Kate gave him a half-hearted shove, wanting to get her hands on the thing herself, and Chris gave her a shove back that abruptly landed her on her bum.

  “Hey! Watch it!” she said, as her buttocks collided with an unyielding floor.

  “Oh, hell. I’m sorry, Kate,” he said as he extended a hand to pull her up. A look of contrition had come into his eyes, and he appeared genuinely sorry. This was the Chris she knew. The kind and gentle man she’d fallen in love with. She took his offered hand gratefully, and joined him in a crouched position in front of the safe. They both sat there looking at the thing for what felt like a minute before he said, “Do you really know how to open it or were you just showing off?”

  “I was just showing off,” Kate said.

  “Me too,” he said. “I haven’t the foggiest how to crack this baby. Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  Kate kinda liked camping out here with Chris in front of Alfonso’s safe. Somehow it felt cozy and almost like old times. Then suddenly she saw what he was holding in his hand. It looked like…

  “Is that plastique?” she said, her eyes widening.

  “Yup. Got it from Kirt. He brought it along as a last resort sort of thing. No idea where he got it.”

  “Ebay?” she suggested. “Isn’t it illegal to carry around explosives?”

  “Oh, sure,” he said. “Highly illegal.” He gave her a comical look. “What do you think?”

  “Do it,” she said without hesitation. “It will teach this Gnat guy not to blackmail people.”

  He looked up in surprise and she realized she’d probably said more than she should.

  “He’s blackmailing… you?” he said, and she noticed the anger in his voice. So did he care about her after all? She really didn’t know what to think at this point.

  “Not me,” she clarified, then decided to reveal all. “My dad Piet. Piet Peeters.”

  “Piet Peeters is your dad?”

  She nodded, wondering if she’d said too much.

  “That’s quite a coincidence,” he said. “Gnat is blackmailing my dad, too. With some woman he’s been seeing. Some actress.”

  “Funny,” she said. “My dad’s also been seeing some actress.”

  They shared a look of surprise, then simultaneously blurted out, “Jeanie Geyser?”

  They both laughed, in spite of themselves, as Chris did a head slap and groaned, “Our dads appear to share the same bad taste in women, don’t they?”

  “They sure do,” agreed Kate. She quite liked to sit here next to Chris. It seemed so familiar, so safe, and she felt part of the resentment she’d harbored all this time fall away. They shared a smile, then Chris raised his eyebrows and said, “Let’s do this, shall we?”

  “Let’s,” she agreed.

  Suddenly, she felt his stare, and when she looked up, she noticed his eyes were fixed on her engagement ring. Briefly, a look of hurt flashed across his face, then his expression darkened and his face went blank.

  “Better step back,” he grumbled as he meticulously started applying the explosives to the hinges of the safe door without deigning her another look.

  She did step back, wondering all the while if what she’d seen could be true? Did Chris still harbor feelings for her? But why? And, more importantly, what was she going to do with this information?

  Nothing, she quickly told herself. This is exactly why men like Chris were so dangerous: they couldn’t be in a room with a woman without feeling an instant attraction and acting upon it. The moment he was alone again, he’d instantly forget she even existed, while she would feel the hurt for weeks and months to come, just like before.

  She gratefully fingered her engagement ring. It had probably saved her from a romantic entanglement she really didn’t need. Even a man like Chris wouldn’t make a move on a woman who was about to plight her troth to another man. At least he wasn’t that depraved.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As Chris applied the explosives to the safe—a little trick he learned in the army, long before he’d joined the police force—he thought about Kate’s engagement ring and felt a jealous rage turn the pit of his stomach into a boiling, roiling cauldron of envy. Oh, he couldn’t deny it, he was s
till in love with this woman, and being alone with her like this, it was all he could do not to reach out and touch her, pull her close and upset those perfect lips with his.

  How he longed to feel her pressed against his body, kiss her and hold her tight. And the mere thought that another man had done all that, was doing all that, would do all that for as long as they both should live, made him madder than hell.

  He had to put some distance between them, otherwise he couldn’t be held responsible for what his actions.

  He fiddled with the plastique, applying the detonator. Good thing Kirt brought along the explosives as a backup. There really was no way he’d ever manage to open this safe before daybreak. Even though it looked like any ordinary safe, it was much more complicated than he’d expected.

  He checked his handiwork and was satisfied: he’d only applied a very small dose of the stuff around the hinges. Just enough to pop the door clean off, making no more noise than a firecracker and containing the damage to the safe.

  He followed Kate into the next room. Was it just his impression, or was she fiddling with her engagement ring? Since this room only had one small window, it was hard to see, but the sight still elicited an annoyed grunt from him. Without speaking, he gestured at the desk furthest away from the door, and Kate ducked behind it. Crouching down next to her, he gave her a curt heads-up, so she could cover her ears, and then pressed the button on the small but serviceable remote.

  Expecting a small pop, like the opening of a champagne bottle, he was more than a little surprised when a powerful explosion rocketed through the room, the blast wave knocking him and Kate against the wall and into each other’s arms. A piece of plaster came unstuck from the ceiling and fell down with a crash on Chris’s back, which he’d turned just in time to shield Kate from the worst effects of the explosion.

  Finally, the dust settled and he looked up to find the entire room reduced to a ruin, the one window blown out, and the light from the street now streaming in.

  Suddenly he saw that the door to Gnat’s office had been blown off its hinges, and now decorated the far end of the editor’s office. For a brief moment, it resisted the laws of gravity, then fell down with a crash, the glass shattering into a million pieces, the words ‘Editor-in-chief A. Gnat’ flying in all directions.

  He quickly threw himself down onto Kate again, shielding her from the debris. Then it was all over.

  “I think you used a little too much,” she suggested softly when they both came up for air.

  “You think so?” he said, removing a piece of plaster from her hair.

  Their eyes met, and in spite of the situation, they both had to laugh.

  “I think A. Gnat is going to get the message loud and clear,” he said, brushing some of the dust from Kate’s face and being rewarded by her smile. His heart made a leap of joy. How lovely she was and how good her body felt against his.

  The sound of a police siren stirred them from their reverie, and they both scrambled to their feet.

  “Let’s get the pictures and clear out,” he said.

  “I like your thinking,” she said. “Let’s.”

  They hurried into Gnat’s office and for a moment stood transfixed. There was the sturdy mahogany desk, seemingly unscathed. There was the potted plant, the picture of Gnat’s wife and the multitude of files and folders, all lying in a heap against the wall. The only thing missing from the scene was… the safe.

  Where it had been, now only a great, big hole in the wall remained, beyond which lay the street.

  Racing to the window, Chris was surprised to find that the safe had found a new resting place: it now stood nestled against one of the plane trees across the street.

  “At least the door is open!” cried Kate, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

  And indeed, even though the safe was now embedded into the hospitable tree, its door had been blown off, and from the window, they could see its contents winking at them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kirt had been peacefully resting in the car. The thing is, it’s not all that easy to sleep in the cramped space awarded the motorist, and after a while, his legs started to cramp, his head hurt, and his lungs ache for some fresh air.

  Kirt exited the car. Stretching his stiff limbs, he let out a long sigh of relief. Finally, he was free again after having been cooped up for what seemed like hours. Even professional detectives dislike being treated like birds in cages.

  Looking up and down the street and detecting no immediate danger, he decided to take a little stroll. Not too far, of course. Just checking out that tree over there, and perhaps have a smoke. Reaching the tree, and seeing it contained no cops or other intruders, he decided to stretch the boundaries of his reconnaissance to the next tree. And when he discovered, upon reaching the target, that a small night shop operated on the corner of Gazet Street and Paf Street, and that he was all out of smokes, he ambled over to replenish his dwindled stock.

  It was when he was coming back from the shop and lighting up, that he felt he should, perhaps, go and check on Chris. In and out, his friend said. But as far as he could ascertain, he’d already been in there at least half an hour, and still no sign of the nocturnal marauder.

  He checked his watch. Yep, at least half an hour. There wasn’t much that worried Kirt. In fact, his was an attitude so laid-back, some inventive teacher in school had once compared him with the common brown bear, in that both the bear and Kirt have a tendency to hibernate during the long, cold winter.

  But seeing as his friend and partner now took uncommonly long for the simple task he’d set himself out to perform, Kirt really started to worry, and picked up his step, setting a course for the house. And he’d almost reached his car, when a voice suddenly rang out from behind him.

  “Stick ‘em up, buster!”

  Luckily, Kirt still had his cigarette clenched between his fingers. In an attempt to distract his assailant, he threw it in his direction.

  “Hey!” said the other.

  With a nimbleness one wouldn’t have suspected in a big guy like Kirt, he whirled round, and was ready to strike his aggressor with a knockout punch when suddenly it dawned on him that he knew this person. And not only knew her, but liked her. A lot.

  “Lauren!” he cried, pulling his punch before it hit its mark.

  “Kirt!” exclaimed Lauren, just as surprised as Kirt to find a familiar face where she’d expected a hulking brute.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” said Kirt, stating the obvious. And realizing that this was one of those moments where mere words don’t suffice to express a man’s deepest emotions, he relaxed his fist into an outstretched hand, pulled Lauren close to him, and enveloped her in an embrace that was both warm and tender.

  Lauren, who could have easily lodged a protest against this sudden intimacy with one she hardly knew, said nothing and let herself be enveloped, listened entranced to the few broken endearments her erstwhile attacker whispered in her ear, and subsequently allowed herself to be kissed.

  As far as moonlight kisses go, it was perhaps not the most romantic one ever recorded in the history books, but neither Kirt nor Lauren seemed to care. And it was some five minutes later, when a heavy object came whizzing through the air and attached itself with a dull clunk to the tree next to where they were kissing, that they finally disentangled themselves and looked up.

  Kirt, though he liked Lauren from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her in Queenie’s Orchid Room, had rather feared the long and protracted dating stage every relationship has to go through before it reaches journey’s end. Not that he wasn’t ready to dine Lauren, take Lauren to the cinema, go for long moonlit walks through romantic Bruges with Lauren and do whatever else he could think of to woo her.

  But his thorough knowledge of himself knew that he wasn’t the sort of man who can woo a girl with mere words or grand gestures alone. And many was the woman who’d rolled her eyes after the second or third or even fourth date, and had abruptly stopped
returning his calls.

  It was an ecstatic Kirt, therefore, who looked up from his kiss, and stared dumbly at the safe, wondering where it came from.

  Its contents winking at him invitingly, the safe rested peacefully against the plane tree, its final destination.

  “Hold that safe!” suddenly a cry rang out, and before Kirt or Lauren had time to react, two frantic figures came tearing across the street from the Bruges Chronicle office, and hurled themselves onto the safe, grabbing at its contents like two shoppers on Black Friday.

  It was only then that Kirt became aware of a police siren emitting its familiar whine, and after one last look at his ladylove, and a quick parting kiss, he extricated himself from her, ran to the car, and hopped in to start the engine for a hasty getaway.

  Then, hopping out again, he ran back to Lauren and said, a little breathlessly, “Do you need a ride?”

  “No, we’ll be fine,” said Lauren as she stroked his cheek. “Just two innocent tourists taking a bicycle ride through town.”

  “Great,” panted Kirt, and ran back to the car, hopped in, started the engine, killed it and ran back to Lauren. “We still on for that drink tomorrow?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Lauren, and gave him a long, lingering kiss that made the big guy’s knees wobble.

  Staggering back to the car, he noticed Chris sitting behind the wheel, staring daggers at him. So he quickly ran around to the passenger side, and after a final farewell wave of the hand, he hopped in, and the car raced off into the night, tires squealing and laying down a strip of burnt rubber for Bruges’s finest to find.

  * * *

  “God!” cried Chris, his eyes on the road. “What a rush!”

  “Sorry, bud,” said Kirt. “I was, um, distracted for a moment.”

  “She was there!” cried Chris. “Again!”

  “Hey! What a coincidence!” said Kirt. “So was she!”

  “She who?” said Chris, confused. He wanted to tell his friend all about how he met Kate. Again. And all this babble distracted him from the main topic.