Henry Wood Detective: Boxed Set (Books 1 - 4)

by Brian Meeks

  “Are you hungry?”

  Mike looked at Luna in disbelief.

  Luna made a little gesture to the frightened waiter. He hustled back. “Yes? Would the gentleman like to order?”

  Mike snapped, “No!”

  Looking like a trapped bunny, the waiter turned to Luna who said, “I’d like to order a shrimp cocktail. He’ll have the dinner salad followed by the 14 ounce sirloin and a potato with butter and some sour cream on the side. We’d also like to order a bottle of wine. I think the ‘65 Latour will do nicely. And, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, we’d like to speak with whomever retrieves the bottle from your well-hidden wine cellar.”

  “That’s an excellent bottle. I’ll have it sent right up.”

  Mike leaned back in his chair. “I see why Henry likes you.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re not just a pretty face. I’d have shot the stupid manager long before I’d have thought of having the bottle brought to us.”

  “You think I’m pretty,” she said with a wry smile.

  “Well, yeah, uhm, I mean, Henry does. Sure, you’re a nice-looking dame.”

  Luna let Mike off the hook. “You’re a good friend to Henry. We’re going to find that tile and catch this guy. Now, can you see anyone behind me that might be our killer?”

  Mike was relieved to have the subject back on their serial killer. He gave the other patrons the once over and said, “I can’t be sure. They all look pretty normal.”

  The waiter returned with another man carrying the bottle of wine. “This is Marcel. He is the bar manager. I explained your request to him.”

  Mike decided the ”bull in a china shop” method wasn’t effective and said, “Marcel, I realize it was a strange request to ask you to bring the bottle personally, but we were wondering if you noticed anything unusual when you retrieved the bottle.”

  “It’s a very old bottle, sir. We have a special section for truly rare bottles. I’m the only one who goes back there, and I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. What are you looking for exactly?”

  “We think there may be a small wooden tile like the ones in the board game Scrabble.”

  “Which letter?”

  Mike shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s a clue left by some psychopath running around killing people,” his voice tinged with anger. He added, a bit more calmly, “I’m sorry. It has been a rough week. I’m going to ask you both to keep this quiet.”

  They both nodded. Marcel said, “I’ll go back and look again.” He set the bottle down and hurried off.

  The waiter asked, “Would you like me to open the bottle?”

  Luna reached out and gently lifted it. “Look at the dust. It must have been down there a while.”

  Mike held out a hand, and Luna passed it across the table to him. He saw only one set of prints in the dust and guessed they must be Marcel’s. He heard Luna clear her throat. He looked at her and said, “Yes?”

  She pointed, and Mike turned the bottle around. On the bottom was a tile. He pulled at it, and the letter ”I” popped free.

  Luna looked around and saw a man’s back as he rushed out of the restaurant. “Mike, over there!”

  CHAPTER 68

  Henry arrived four minutes before 5 pm. The daily hustle and bustle was in full swing. Everyone but Henry seemed to have one thing in common: the place they were at now was not as important as where they were going. Just standing alone on the corner seemed to be offensive to the flow of the masses. Henry leaned up against the building and tried to spot his 5pm meeting.

  Seeing nobody who seemed interested in him, he let the drone of the city drift to the background. Where were Bobby, Celine, and Carol? Henry had checked, and Carol hadn't called or reported to work. Henry knew Bobby was quite capable of keeping an eye on them, especially with the help of Buttons, but to not know where they were made him uneasy.

  A car honked and Henry looked up. A bright red Chevy stopped and a woman in a cobalt blue dress slid into the passenger's seat and gave the driver a kiss.

  Henry checked his watch. 4:58.

  A bus pulled up. It was running behind schedule, and the queue seemed relieved that it had shown at all. Henry watched the passengers climb into the already packed bus. His view was greatly limited, and he wondered if he should leave his spot. He decided to stay put.

  * * *

  Associate 2 and 3 had, over the last 24 hours, lost track of Henry's trail and picked it up again when he left the police station and headed to the library. Their “eyes” had proved to be only marginally successful and had been dismissed last night. Both men decided they had evaded any teams sent after them and were free to finish the job.

  Their plan lacked a certain elegance. It was also riskier than 2 would have liked, but his years of experience told him it was time to move. They had followed Henry from Club 21, and now he stood just on the other side of the intersection.

  Associate 3 would cross from one direction and 2 the other. As soon as Henry started into the flow of the crowd, the closer of the two would move, walk past the target and shoot him. The crowd reaction would dictate the next move. If any good Samaritans tried to intervene, the man coming from the other direction would step in.. If it were handled properly and Henry simply slumped to the ground, the shooter would walk past the other man and pass him the weapon. That associate would dispose of the gun, and they would meet back at the safe house. There were a hundred other scenarios that could play out, but they felt confident that their years of training and experience could handle whatever unforeseen trouble lay ahead.

  They were now in position directly across the street from Henry in both directions. Associate 2 was blocked by traffic, but 3 could walk with the people crossing the street.

  The bus pulled away. Henry was moving away from the corner of the building.

  * * *

  Mike was out the door without any mishaps or run-ins with the wait staff. Once on E 52nd Street Mike saw the man heading towards 5th Avenue. Instinct took over and he noted the height, approximately six feet tall, weight, around 190, wearing a blue shirt, and apparently a good runner.

  Yelling, "Stop, police," seemed to be a useless request, so Mike broke into a sprint. A handful of long strides later and Mike saw the fleeing man turn left on 5th Avenue. Mike was gaining with each stride until a break in the traffic allowed the man to cross over. Mike had to dodge two taxis and a bicycle. The suspect turned right on E 53rd. He rounded the corner and barreled into a woman walking a dog.

  She survived the impact, but the dog took umbrage to the collision and made for Mike's ankles. Seeing that she was fine and the dog didn't look like it could be reasoned with, Mike gave his best "sorry, police business" and continued on. The brief distraction caused Mike to lose sight of blue shirt but only for a moment.

  The blue shirt ran straight for a couple of blocks but was losing ground. Mike was sure he would overtake him before 1st Avenue. The man crossed the street and darted between two buildings. Again, he was out of sight for a moment. Mike followed and heard the ricochet. A second shot sent Mike diving behind a dumpster.

  The man kept running and turned left at the back of a building. Mike followed, his own gun at the ready.

  The central part of the block that fell between E 53rd and 54th street had several trees and some parking, and each building protruded into it to varying degrees. In short, there were lots of hiding spots. When Mike reached the corner, he popped his head out. The lack of shots ringing out was a relief, but on the down side, he couldn't see the blue shirt.

  Mike crept along the back of the first building and noticed a man about 30 yards off. The old man was sitting in a chair smoking a pipe. A matching chair sat empty across a cardboard box with a checkerboard on it. The man, not engaged in a game, had seen the man in the blue shirt and when he noticed Mike, simply pointed towards a door about 10 yards further down.

  Mike broke into a sprint again. At the door he paused. He opened it, peered to see if th
e coast was clear, and ran inside. There was a hallway and stairs. He paused to listen. Nothing. Mike had to choose between heading up, down, or straight ahead. He bolted down the hall and followed it to the front of the building. Mike got outside just in time to see the man with the blue shirt hopping into a car.

  * * *

  Associate 2 moved with the people across the street. A rather large woman with a big hat provided ample cover. Henry was heading towards the black limousine. 2 flicked the safety off the pistol. The silencer would dampen the sound, and the shot was easy enough that he should be able to put one in his head and be done with it.

  The driver opened the door for Henry who paused to say, “Thank you.”

  2 started to raise the gun and then made eye contact with the man in the car. He froze. The director stared back at him with a strange look on his face. He didn’t yell or flinch. 2 wasn’t prepared for this contingency and could neither flee nor pull the trigger. The director then did something that snapped him back to reality. He winked.

  2 lowered the gun and continued through the crowd. 2 continued until the next available door and darted inside.

  Associate 3 had seen only the reaction. He didn’t know who was in the car or why 2 hadn’t pulled the trigger, but he knew better than to start shooting from his spot. He might have been able to hit Henry, but 2 had new intel and whatever it was, it meant they were aborting.

  3 headed along the street parallel to his friend across the street. He stopped at a magazine stand when 2 darted into a building. The car that now carried Henry pulled away and 3 felt safe to cross. When he reached the door, 2 stepped out and said, “You’ll never guess who Henry Wood, the detective who has been a thorn in our side, was meeting with?”

  3 didn’t have the faintest idea, but the disgust dripping from his friend’s words made him sure it was bad news. “No idea.”

  “It was the damn director.”

  “The director of what?”

  “I mean ‘The’ director.”

  They started to walk in silence. Half a block later, 3 asked, “Did he see you?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He winked.”

  “He winked,” 3 said incredulously, then asked, “What sort of wink?”

  “I don’t know. It was a wink. I have no idea what he was doing meeting with the detective.”

  “You think he wants to hire him to find us?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Did he seem upset when he winked?”

  “He just winked. That’s it. I need a drink.”

  “You think we should get back to the safe house?”

  “Probably, but I need a drink more.”

  “If the director wants us dead and knows where we are, we should get moving.”

  “I’m getting a drink. I’m getting a whole bar full of drinks. We can sit in the back, and, if they send someone, I’m going out in a blaze of gin and gunfire.”

  3 wanted a drink, too. Maybe giving up and getting smashed really is the best next move, he thought.

  CHAPTER 69

  The interior of the limousine was tastefully elegant. Henry eased into the seat and was offered a drink by a svelte Asian woman sitting next to a custom-built bar. Not wanting to be a bad guest and frankly needing one, Henry said, “Thank you...scotch.”

  The man sitting next to Henry seemed pleased and reached out a gloved hand. “Mr. Wood, I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Nor will you, but please don’t be offended,” he said. He turned towards the woman and asked, “How long have you been with us?”

  “Nine years, sir.”

  “Xue here,” he said with a nod, “has been a faithful employee for the better part of a decade, and she doesn’t know my name, either. I’m a private person.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me for saying so, but that is odd. What should I call you then?”

  “I suppose it is. A person in my position needs to be a little ‘odd’ to perform his job.”

  “And what job is that?”

  “Balance.”

  “I’ll call you Mr. Bowler then.”

  He touched a finger to the brim of the hat that was resting on the seat next to him. “Yes, I think that will do nicely.”

  Xue handed Henry his drink, assuming correctly that he wanted ice. Mr. Bowler gave instructions for the driver to take the long way round.

  “I’ve got my drink - thanks - now what is this about?”

  “I thought we should have a talk. It seems your associate has been asking some questions about things that don’t concern him.”

  “My associate?”

  “An energetic and elusive little fellow named Bobby.”

  Henry didn’t like the way he said “elusive.” It made him feel tired. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s a long story and one I will get into once you’ve had a nice rest.”

  Xue reached out and took the glass from Henry as he drifted into unconsciousness.

  * * *

  As the grogginess lifted, Henry found himself on an antique silk chaise lounge. He heard voices in a nearby room and remained still. With eyes half open, he saw a vast room with elegant furniture, high ceilings, and a hardwood parquet floor. A dresser along one wall had a few photos in silver frames, but Henry couldn’t see who was pictured. A giant gilded mirror hung on the far wall. From Henry’s vantage point he could see two sets of double doors on either side, with the set on the left being closed.

  He reasoned the voices must be coming from the room to the right. He heard measured footsteps and closed his eyes again. He needed more time to assess the situation. He heard them get closer and judged them to belong to the woman who had drugged him. What was her name? Xue?

  “Mr. Wood, you may continue to pretend to be sleeping, but I’d advise you to cooperate.”

  Henry opened one eye and saw her standing five feet in front of him. She wore a tight, jade green silk dress, stockings, and black high heels. Henry had no idea how old she was, but he guessed somewhere between 30 - 70 just to be safe. Her face was striking but not warm. Maybe it was the expression on her face, but it seemed best to open both eyes and get on with the charade.

  “You mix a strong drink.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “I’ve had drinks with less kick.”

  “Please, follow me.”

  She turned and headed towards the closed doors. Henry found the floor and got his legs under him. They were stiff, like he hadn’t moved in days. He hoped it was only a few hours. “How long was I out?” he asked.

  Xue didn’t answer but opened the doors, then waited for Henry to catch up. The next room was smaller and had a desk, more paintings, and two tables with maps on them. Xue went behind the desk, reached under it, and hit a button. One of the tables seemed to glide to the side, revealing a spiral staircase. She pulled the chord on the desk lamp, which lit up, as did the passage.

  Henry waited for Xue, but she said, “You may go. The lights will take you to your meeting.”

  The staircase was made of heavy iron. It was cold to the touch. A series of bulbous white lights spun down along the stone wall. Henry didn’t like how things had gone since getting in the car, and they didn’t seem to be improving.

  At the bottom of the stairs was a heavy door propped open by a shovel. For a house that appeared to be meticulously kept, the dungeon, as Henry had taken to calling it, seemed less so. He walked through the door, and the lights on the stairs disappeared and a new, but smaller, set of lights ran off down the hall. Henry followed them until he reached an intersection. The other two choices were dark, so he stayed on the lit path.

  The lights passed several rooms, which very well could have been cells, but Henry couldn’t tell. The turns and twists were enough that Henry had stopped trying to memorize his way out. If Mr. Bowler planned to keep him locked away for the rest of his days, he was quite sure there was
little he could do to stop him. This defeated thought stayed with him until he reached a door.

  “Mr. Wood, please make yourself at home.”

  “In what century would this ‘home’ be that you speak of?”

  “Touché. It may not be comfortable, but it is quiet and very secure.”

  “That I don’t doubt.”

  Mr. Bowler poured himself a drink and offered one to Henry. He declined.

  “Let me get right to it. The grand scheme of my mission is probably more than you can comprehend. Still, I think I should make some effort to paint a reasonable picture.”

  “I do enjoy art.”

  “Let’s see then...We needed to have you killed, and we sent some gentlemen to handle the matter.”

  CHAPTER 70

  The grogginess from the drugs faded.

  “I think I will have that drink,” Henry said.

  Mr. Bowler raised an eyebrow. “No longer afraid it will be laced with poison?”

  “Nope, make it a double.”

  As he made the drink for his guest, Mr. Bowler continued, “I shall do my best to answer your questions. I’d imagine that why is near the top of the list, and it makes a great place to start.”

  Henry took the drink.

  “Many years ago, Mr. Palmeroy was in a tight spot, and my organization was in a position to assist him.”

  “For a price, I’d imagine.”

  “Oh, no, nothing so tawdry as money was involved, merely an understanding that he had a debt and a secret, both of which must be kept safe. The secret was...”

  “...that the Enclave existed at all,” Henry guessed.