Lost Distinction (Jordan James, PI Series)

by Rachel Sharpe

  “What?”

  “Yeah,” he rubbed his nose and looked around the hallway before saying, “Bronx ‘as agreed to meet you.”

  “Okay,” I smoothed my hair with my left hand while holding the robe closed with my right. “That’s great, but why are you bothering me this early?”

  Devin glanced around again when the air conditioner kicked on. “Well, ‘e agreed, but ‘e’s not a big fan of, uh, people, so ‘e’ll meet you, but only you and ‘e wants to see you soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “Now.”

  I sighed. At best, I had gotten six hours of sleep, but my body was still set to eastern time. To me, it felt like one in the morning, which explained the sluggishness I couldn’t quite shake. Thankfully, I realized that my headache was gone and it didn’t appear that I was suffering from a hangover.

  Maybe tea with aspirin works better than a chaser. I ought to market that. Devin’s intense and unnerving stare, focused on my face, brought me back to reality. I would be able to meet with Bronx the drug dealer. But I had to be alone and it had to be now. I knew Rick would not go for that, but it didn’t seem like I had much of a choice. I had to find Arthur.

  Considering I had that black belt in Tai-Kwan-Do I earned in college, I felt reasonably certain I was prepared for any situation, should one arise.

  “Fine. Give me a few minutes.”

  Chapter 16

  It took me less than twenty minutes to get ready. That had to be some kind of record. I decided to go with the evergreen, cashmere shirt and the dark-colored jeans Michelle loaned me. The jeans were tight, but they fit. I pulled half my auburn hair up in a ponytail, leaving the other half down. When I was finished, I considered sending Rick a text message but decided against it for fear that he might wake up and try to stop me.

  Instead, I grabbed the square notepad and a pen off the nightstand and wrote him a quick note explaining that I was going to meet up with Bronx. I did not elaborate nor did I mention Devin. After composing the note, I grabbed my phone and some money from my purse. I shoved the note under the door to Rick’s room before tiptoeing down the hall to meet Devin.

  To my dismay, standing beside him was Ms. Chambers. She was dressed in a beige, high-collared top and a long, black skirt with a pair of black flats. Her grayish-blonde hair was tied up in a sensible bun. Devin had a guilty expression on his face, but she did not seem to notice as her attention was focused on me.

  With my shoulders back and my head straight, I walked into the room. “Good morning,” I greeted her pleasantly.

  “Good morning.” She nodded at me.

  We stood there in silence for several long moments before I said, “Well, I must be off. I have some business and Devin’s going to help me find my way. I’ve never been in England before.”

  “Indeed.” She clasped her thin fingers together and continued to stare at me. The absolute silence and her stony look began to make me uncomfortable.

  I shifted my weight awkwardly. “I hope we didn’t disturb you.”

  “Absolutely not. I am always up before dawn. There is quite a lot of work to be done if one wishes to maintain an orderly house and that is my main priority.”

  She waited for me to reply. My nerves were as frayed as my mind was tired. This game was wearing my patience thin. A little too fast, I blurted, “Ma’am, I don’t wish to be rude, but I’ve gotta go. Do you need something? I feel like you want to ask me something.”

  “I understand you are with Mr. Michaels and that you are here looking for Arthur.”

  “That’s right.”

  Arms crossed, she began to pace the floor. “I merely wanted to give you a word of warning. Tread softly.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “You are handling a case where a man’s life may be at stake. Arthur is not a regular man, either. He is the son of an ambassador. Things you may believe to be fact could, in reality, be fiction.”

  I glanced at Devin again. He clutched his pack of cigarettes and avoided eye contact.

  I turned back to Ms. Chambers. “Why are you telling me this?”

  She tilted her head up. “I’m telling you this because I care a great deal for Arthur. I want you to find him. He’s a very dear boy.”

  I inhaled and then exhaled slowly before answering. “Thank you. I’m following up on a lead right now. If it’s not too much to ask, could you not mention that you saw me this morning? I’d rather not get anyone’s hopes up before I have proof.”

  She turned and headed in the direction of the kitchen. “I haven’t seen a thing.”

  As soon as she was gone, Devin exhaled and leaned forward. “Blimey, I thought I was toast. I’m never ‘ere before nine. She knows something’s up. I ‘ope she doesn’t rat me out to Mr. Cross.”

  “She’s not gonna say anything.”

  He stuck a cigarette between his teeth.

  “You’re not smoking in here, are you?”

  “Yea, I really want to lose my bloody job over a fag. No, we’re leaving. Time’s a-wasting and Bronx ‘ates when people keep ‘im waiting.”

  I followed Devin out the front door and down the steps. A slight breeze blew. Parked out front was a black taxi. “We’re taking a cab? Why?”

  He lit the cigarette and rolled his eyes. “You want me to take the ambassador’s motor to meet Bronx in Aldgate? Are you mental?”

  My face flushed at my stupidity. Devin lit the cigarette, threw open the back door and climbed inside. I slid in after him and tried to roll down the window for fresh air. Unfortunately, it was locked.

  “Could you open the windows, please?” I asked the cab driver, a man in his early twenties who strongly resembled Bob Marley.

  He shook his head as he stared at me from the rearview mirror. “No can do, pretty lady. Many fares have jumped from dat very window and left me without a bob for me effort,” he explained in a Jamaican accent. “Now, where can I take ya dis fine mornin’?”

  “Get us to Aldgate,” Devin instructed between puffs.

  The cabbie stared up at him through the rearview mirror, perplexed. He glanced at me. “Are ya sure dat is where ya want to go?”

  I nodded.

  He muttered something beneath his breath, but headed down the street. Despite having ridden in several vehicles since my arrival in London less than twenty-four hours earlier, I was still startled when the cabbie pulled out and started driving on the left side of the road. The drive took less than fifteen minutes and I spent most of it looking out the window and across the Thames, vainly attempting to formulate a plan.

  The longer I thought about it, the more I felt it unlikely that Bronx was Arthur’s kidnapper. If he were, why would he agree to meet with me? Why wouldn’t he have already demanded a ransom? Something about it didn’t add up. By the time we slowed to a stop in front of St. Katharine’s Docks, the entire cab was filled with a thick blanket of smoke. I eagerly opened the back door, expelling the smoke and taking a deep breath of fresh air. While I took several breaths, Devin squeezed past me to exit the vehicle.

  “Now, hold on,” the cabbie exclaimed. “Dere is no free ride here. Dat’s fourteen pounds!”

  Devin shoved his hands in his hunter-green windbreaker and glanced at me as he walked off. “You ‘eard the man. Pay ‘em.”

  I stared after him in shock. Cab fare had not entered my mind. In my exhausted state, I had grabbed money from my purse, but it was American. Fat lot of good this will do here.

  I looked over at the cabbie and held up my money. “I only have American currency,” I apologized. “I didn’t have any time to convert it.”

  The cabbie sighed. He motioned for me to come closer to his open window. “All right, now, ya have American dollars?” I nodded in reply. Frowning, he did some mental calculations. “Dat’s gonna cost ya twenty-two dollars.�
��

  I handed him a twenty and a five. “Thank you. I’m sorry about the money.”

  He reached out the window and grabbed my left wrist as I turned to leave. “Pretty clear ya never been here before. Are ya sure dis is where ya want to be?”

  “I’m meeting someone.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Ya not gonna meet anyone good ‘round here.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” I replied before hurrying to catch up with Devin.

  I found him about thirty yards away, leaning against a stack of large, wooden crates and smoking another cigarette. He was looking around the dock. By now, the sun was up. It was about five-thirty.

  To my right were the docks and three, large commercial vessels. Men were adroitly climbing aboard and carrying goods off in a systematic manner. They ignored us as they went about their business. A slight breeze maintained a steady pace across the water and I shivered, wishing I had brought a jacket with me.

  “Well, what are we doing now?”

  Devin inhaled tobacco from the cigarette, sucking in so hard his cheeks completely disappeared into his high cheekbones. Exhaling the smoke, he replied, “We wait.”

  I continued to watch the workmen come and go as Devin finished two additional cigarettes. The man was the poster child for lung cancer. I could tell by his behavior that he was very anxious and did not want to be doing this. Just as he extinguished his last cigarette beneath the sole of his brown shoe, his eyes lit up in recognition.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking toward some abandoned buildings across the street from the docks. I followed, finding it difficult to keep up with his quick, steady pace. He continued along without looking back to make sure I was with him.

  Finally, he walked into a narrow alley between two of the run-down edifices. At the end of the alley was another street with more empty buildings and standing in front of a red-brick structure was a boy of no more than nineteen with shiny-black hair and dark eyes.

  Devin approached him cautiously and stopped when he was a few yards away. He nodded at the boy. “Morning.”

  The boy stared at him without blinking. Devin scratched his neck and motioned at me. “She’s the one who wanted to see you.”

  The boy turned his emotionless gaze on me. I felt a shiver run down my spine. Despite his youthful appearance, there was something frightening behind his dead eyes. He was devoid of joy and I understood why Devin was uncomfortable around him.

  “You’re Bronx?”

  The boy stared at me without responding.

  Clearing my throat, I added, “Right, well, thanks for meeting me.”

  Devin coughed and kicked a loose chunk of concrete. “All right. Guess I’ll be off.”

  I stared at him in disbelief. “You’re leaving?”

  He continued to kick the concrete until a small chunk was propelled across the street. Avoiding eye contact, he nodded, “Yea, said I’d ‘elp you meet Bronx, not ‘ang out.”

  I watched in shock as he nodded at Bronx respectfully before turning toward the alleyway. Suddenly, Devin stopped. “You ‘ave a phone, yea?”

  Glancing at Bronx, I nodded.

  “Most ‘ackney carriages come this way,” Devin said. “Shouldn’t ‘ave trouble getting a ride back.”

  With that, he was gone. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Any creep who would hook up his employer’s son with a drug dealer would definitely leave a foreigner alone with the same guy. I turned my attention back to Bronx. He was studying me. I felt another chill.

  Clearing my throat, I said, “So, Bronx, you and a man named Henry did business sometimes, right?”

  The young man squinted, staring up at the rising sun. “I do business with a lot of people.”

  “But you did business with a man named Henry until recently, correct?”

  Bronx took off the maroon cap and smoothed his black hair. “Possibly.”

  Suddenly, I no longer felt anxious around this kid. Instead, I felt a strong urge to strangle him. I took a step closer and noticed movement in my peripheral vision. To my right, halfway behind a building, was a large, Asian man.

  I realized Bronx had not come to this meeting alone and my anxiety returned. Taking slow, deep breaths, I calmly inquired, “Do you have any intention of answering my questions?”

  Bronx clicked his tongue. He stared past me, clearly bored. “Depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “On what you can do for me.”

  The tone of his comment gave me pause. I swallowed hard as my mind raced, considering different ways to get out of this situation. Before I reached the fight or flight response, I decided to try the simplest method. “I could pay you.”

  He tilted his head to the side, studying me. “How much?”

  I reached in my pocket and pulled out a handful of bills. “Here’s two hundred. Take it.”

  “American,” he scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. He finally grabbed it. “Yeah, I know who you’re talking about.”

  I felt sudden relief, realizing that I was not in imminent danger. “Someone came to, uh, request you close his account, correct?”

  Bronx looked around, still bored. “Yeah, sounds right.” He glanced in the direction of his friend. “This is a waste of my time. Get to the point or sod off.”

  I was taken aback by his sudden curtness and after collecting my thoughts, replied, “Fair enough. I need to know about the man who paid off Henry’s debt.” Bronx stared at me. “What can you tell me about him?”

  Bronx glanced up at the sun again. “He was a git. Not the type I’m used to dealing with.”

  “Could you elaborate?”

  “Maybe.”

  Although I was not intimidated by Bronx, his large friend did give me cause for alarm. I decided I needed to finish this and get out of Aldgate. Fast. ”Could you tell me what happened during your meeting with the man?”

  “He brought me money, loads of it, and said stop doing business with Henry.”

  I waited, hoping there was more. Unfortunately, he didn’t say another word. Despite the sparse details, I was now certain of two things. First, Bronx did not kidnap Arthur. Second, he did not know that these were Ambassador Cross’s sons. “Do you know where he went after he left?”

  Bronx narrowed his eyes. “What do I look like? CCTV?”

  “I mean, did he leave by car or cab?”

  “How the bloody hell should I know?” I handed him another twenty. “Maybe a car.”

  “Was it the same one he arrived in?”

  “What?”

  “Please,” I offered him another twenty. “This is very important. Did anything happen out of the ordinary during your transaction? Anything at all.”

  Bronx stared at the bill for a moment before snatching it and shoving it in his jeans pocket. “Nothing happened, but that old banger he left in, hmm. Seemed real nervous about the bloke driving. But, he went anyway.”

  “You didn’t happen to get the license plate number, did you?” A blank stare was the only response he offered.

  Realizing I was going to get nothing else from this conversation, I turned to leave. “Thank you.”

  At this, Bronx became animated for the first time as he approached me. He grabbed my right wrist with his left hand and offered a disturbing smile. “What’s your hurry?”

  I noticed his large friend was no longer lingering in the corner, but instead, hurrying over. Instinctively and in one fluid move, I shifted my balance, causing Bronx to lose his. He released my wrist as he stumbled forward.

  I took three steps backward as I watched his face flush in embarrassment. He glared at me. “Not wise, love,” he scolded. “My chum here, he’s pretty protective. You could’ve hurt me just now. He doesn’t li
ke that.”

  As if on cue, the large man produced a switchblade from his pocket. My heart raced as I took two more steps away from them. I knew I could take out Bronx easily. At five-eight, he was less than three inches taller than me and his rail-thin physique offered no muscle mass. It would be like beating up a greasy beanpole.

  His giant friend, however, was both large and armed—a combination I was unlikely to defeat. I decided my only option was to distract them, and then, run like hell. “Listen, I appreciate your help, but I’ve gotta go.”

  “I really think you ought to stick around,” he insisted, taking a step closer. “I have a business proposition for you.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t do drugs.”

  He grabbed his chest and feigned pain. “I don’t either. I’m a businessman and you have a product I’d love to market.”

  Taking another step toward the alleyway, I replied, “What’s that?”

  My skin began to crawl as he looked me up and down and motioned at my body. “Lots of girls work for me. You should think about it. An American girl is worth quite a bit here. We can come up with a nice arrangement, if you’re willing to compromise—”

  There have not been many occasions when I literally felt like my life was in jeopardy. Considering my profession of choice, that’s pretty impressive. I knew, however, this was one of those times. I only had one shot to escape. I swallowed hard as I prepared to make a run for it.

  Suddenly, from behind me, I heard a gun click and I felt a sudden numbness when I realized I had no chance. There is nowhere to run when you have a gun pointed at your back. I assumed the gunman was one of Bronx’s boys until I saw the expression on his face. Both he and his friend backed away from me, and a familiar voice nearly gave me a heart attack.