by Larry Darter
As I parked the motorbike and walked toward the entrance to Nix’s office, I hoped Dr. Nix had words of wisdom to impart that might help me pull myself back together.
Fifteen
I was sitting in my now accustomed position across the desk from Dr. Nix. Today he was wearing a blue suit and a crisp light blue oxford shirt with a perfectly tied amethyst colored tie. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Of course, many married people didn’t wear their wedding rings all the time. I hadn’t worn mine much after David and I married. Nix had big hands, and they looked strong.
Someone had already strategically positioned the Kleenex box on my side of the desk. I wondered whether Nix had staged it there before I came in because of my behavior last time, or if maybe it had been there for the patient before me.
“Things seemed better after we talked last time,” I said. “I felt like I was making progress. But, it’s been a shit of a day today.” I clapped a hand over my mouth.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to swear. It slipped out.”
Nix smiled faintly.
“Tell me about today,” he said.
“I didn’t mention it last time, but there is a guy, Mike Young, I dated him for several months after I moved here from Los Angeles.”
Nix cocked his head. I took that as a signal to continue.
“We didn’t live together, but to be fair, I suppose it was a relationship. We had sex often, and we were exclusive.”
Nix nodded. “Tell me about you and Mike.”
“Mike really wanted to settle down and have a family,” I said. “He talked about marriage all the time and having kids. I wasn't ready to have babies. I was only getting my private detective agency started and didn’t want to give it up. I thought he was prepared to wait a bit. But, I guess I never realized how important marriage and having kids was to him. I wasn’t ready, he was, and the relationship ended.”
Nix said, “How did that make you feel?”
“Not great,” I said. “I mean I know I hurt Mike. I wasn’t—I’m not happy about it. But, on another level, I guess I felt relieved too. The constant talk about marriage and babies was smothering me.”
Nix nodded slightly.
“To be fair, I feel ending the relationship was for the best. I felt like I was keeping Mike from the thing he wanted most because I didn’t want the same thing. But, I have an affection for him, I hoped we would remain friends.”
“How has that worked out?” Nix said.
“It hasn’t worked at all, Mike has been very cold, in some ways even cruel toward me since the relationship carked it,” I said.
Nix was quiet, his eyes resting on me without movement, his hands clasped in front of him.
“Like today, we were talking on the phone about a case we’re both involved in from slightly different vectors. Mike told me he was seeing someone, someone I know and strongly dislike. Mike knows how much I dislike the woman. It hurt to hear it. But, the reason it hurt as much as it did was I knew he only told me because he knew it would hurt me.”
I looked up at the ceiling and tried hard to prevent tears from betraying my emotions. I failed dismally.
“Oh Christ,” I said grabbing for a Kleenex. It took a while for me to stop sobbing and gain a little semblance of control again.
“I don’t know why it bothers me so,” I said. “I want Mike to be happy. He’s free to date whoever he chooses.”
“Are you in love with Mike?” Nix said.
“Ah, no,” I said. “It isn’t like the Malone thing. With Mike, it was well, you know, deeply in like I think.”
“Another rejection?”
“Maybe.”
Nix nodded imperceptibly.
“I had sex last night with a guy I met a few days ago,” I said.
I don’t know why I'd said it, I hadn’t intended to tell Nix about it. Maybe because I didn’t want him to think me a total loser, so I’d blurted it out.
Dr. Nix raised his eyebrows a little. Maybe to let me know he found what I’d said so fascinating.
“We hadn’t planned it. We went to dinner and had drinks. One thing led to another.”
Dr. Nix nodded.
“Tell me about that,” he said.
I told him about how Nick had been waiting for me at my office late yesterday afternoon. He’d invited me out for dinner and drinks. We’d had a good time, so when he invited me to his flat, I’d accepted. We had shagged, more than once actually, and done other wicked fun stuff. I’d enjoyed it immensely, and he had seemed to enjoy it too. I also mentioned afterward I’d slipped away in the night while Nick was sleeping.
“Why didn’t you stay the night?”
“You know how it is—how you look when you first wake up, how the other person looks. Then there is the bathroom thing and getting dressed while someone you hardly know watches. It’s all so awkward once you’re sober, and the passion is spent. Besides, he might have wanted another go, and I never like to have it first thing in the morning when I wake up.”
Dr. Nix smiled. I wondered if he had ever slept with a woman who slipped out in the middle of the night after sex.
“Was leaving after the sex was over a way to underline it was only sex, that you’re not looking for a relationship?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Probably.”
We were quiet. Dr. Nix watched me with a pleasant look on his face. Did he think me a tart who only wanted a casual shag now and again when it was convenient for me?
“I’m sure you think I’m a tart,” I said.
“You don’t know me, you couldn’t know what I think,” Nix said. “Words like that are only labels. Labels aren’t very helpful in any of this.”
“What do you think it means I wanted to have sex with Nick when I already have all these unresolved feelings for other men?”
“What do you think it means?” Nix said.
“Why won’t you ever tell me what you think?” I said. “Must you always be so bloody shrinky?”
Nix smiled. “I am a shrink after all.”
“Fair point,” I said.
“What I think isn’t what we’re after here,” Nix said.
“Yep, I get it, it’s supposed to be all about me.”
Nix nodded. “We’re out of time today,” he said.
“But, we didn’t talk about me coming more than once a week,” I said.
“It’s fine if you want to,” Nix said. “I’ll see you Thursday, but at one, not two. I have a regular two o’clock patient Thursdays.”
“Okay,” I said.
Nix filled out an appointment card and handed it to me. I stood and walked to the door. Nix stood as he had the last time and walked to the door with me. He smiled and opened the door. I went out.
Sixteen
My shit of a day combined with the session with Dr. Nix left me feeling positively shattered as I rode back to the office. The second session had felt even more emotionally draining than the first. Still, somehow I felt calmer and more centered now like I had the time before. That seemed odd. Dr. Nix had done little more than listen and say noncommittal things. Yet I couldn’t deny feeling somewhat better about me after spending the fifty minutes with him. Maybe the whole point of therapy was purgative, finding psychological release by banging on about your strongly felt emotions. All I knew was it felt exhausting.
I was fumbling with the key, trying to unlock the office door when I saw it. It was a folded business card stuffed into the gap between the door and frame. I pulled it out and unfolded it. It was Mike’s police business card. There was a message on the back.
Came by to apologize. Please call my mobile when you get this, and we will talk. Mike.
My first instinct was to rip the card to bits and toss it into the air like confetti. But after the day I’d had I couldn’t generate the emotional energy to throw a wobbly. I got the door unlocked and went inside. Plonking down in the chair behind the desk I stared at the phone. I was still angry with Mike for tossing Oshiro in my face. Maybe I�
��d ring him and tell him I was shagging someone new too. No, that wouldn’t get us anywhere. I looked at the card again and then back at the phone. A glance at the clock on the wall told me it was three-twenty. Picking up the phone, I dialed Mike’s mobile number. He answered after the third ring.
“I picked up your message,” I said.
“Hey, I’m sorry for acting like a jerk,” Mike said. “Want to meet and have that talk?”
What I wanted was to give him a good rark up, but I was too knackered for it. Instead, I said, “No worries, she’ll be right. I’m at the office now if you want to come around.”
“Or we could have a drink while we talk,” Mike said. “My treat.”
I almost said no to the suggestion. What I wanted most was to be at home in my bed. Then I thought maybe a drink was what I needed to improve my mood. Also, it occurred to me I had eaten nothing since brekkie.
“Sure, okay,” I said. “Where do you want to meet?”
Mike said, “How about The Likelike on Hotel Street?”
“Awesome choice,” I said. “When?”
“Four? I can leave work a little early.”
“All right, see you soon,” I said. We hung up.
The Likelike was a dimly lit posh downtown pub with a speakeasy vibe. The pub specialized in craft beers and inventive cocktails, and the food there was awesome. It was only my most favorite downtown pub which Mike well knew. I felt foolishly pleased Mike had suggested it for that reason. It was probably a wee peace offering.
Mike already had a booth when I got to the pub. He saw me looking about in the dim lighting and stood up to wave me over. He looked a bit sheepish as I sat down.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
“Listen, I’m truly sorry for the way I’ve acted lately,” Mike said. “It was childish really. Not excusing it, but I was really hurt. Maybe I felt you didn’t take the breakup as hard as I did and I wanted you to.”
“I get it, Mike,” I said. “I never meant to hurt you, but I know I did. I’m sorry for it. I probably should have said more than I did when it ended, but I didn’t know what to say to make you feel better. So, I said nothing much. I guess I thought we were good enough friends we’d sort it out and get past it.”
“Maybe we could start over,” Mike said. “The friendship part I mean.”
“I’d like that,” I said. “Your friendship means a lot. And, before you say it, no it isn’t only because you help me with cases sometimes.”
We smiled.
“I promise I’ll try to be a better friend,” Mike said.
A server came over, left menus, and took our drink orders. I went for a Garden Negroni—gin, coconut washed Campari, vermouth, and a few other odd things. Mike ordered a Manhattan.
“I’m having a burger and hot chips,” I said putting the menu aside. “I have eaten nothing since brekkie.”
“Yeah, okay, I guess I’ll have the same,” Mike said.
The server returned with our drinks and took our food orders.
“Guess I’ll start,” Mike said. “We got something back from the FBI firearms experts. They say the murder weapon is likely a Colt Open Top Pocket Model revolver, circa 1871.”
“A revolver from 1871?” I said. “An antique?”
“Yes, weird isn’t it? The experts say the 22 caliber bullets the coroner removed from Tran’s body were custom made replicas of those used by Colt in the cartridges manufactured for that particular firearm almost one hundred fifty years ago. That’s why none of the HPD firearms experts recognized them. The FBI says modern cartridges couldn’t be safely used in such an old pistol.”
“That lends credibility to my belief William Chambers is possibly your murder suspect,” I said.
“How so?”
“Chambers by trade is a collector and dealer of antiques and ancient artifacts,” I said. “Though I can’t claim to know he collects antique firearms, it wouldn’t be shocking to learn he does. Who better than an antique collector to shoot someone with an antique firearm?”
“Makes sense,” Mike said. “Who is your source for the information on Chambers?”
“Two of the people involved in the artifact's theft my client hired me to recover,” I said. “Tran was the third co-conspirator.”
“I meant, what are their names?”
“Can’t tell you yet. It’s complicated, but you must trust me when I say they had what I consider a good reason for taking the bloody thing. They are frightened now after what happened to Tran. I’ve promised to help them. I must get them to agree to talk with you before I hand over their names.”
“It doesn’t work that way, T. J.,” Mike said. “If they know something about the murder, I need to hear it from them directly. Until I do, I can’t do anything with Chambers. You must give me the names.”
“I know that, and I will,” I said, “after I’ve first asked them to talk with you. I’ll see them first thing in the morning, then I’ll ring you when I’ve convinced them to meet with you.”
The server brought our food. I was famished. We ate quietly for a while before picking up the conversation. Then I told Mike the whole story I’d gotten from Chloe and her father, starting with the museum fire in San Francisco and the arson frame-up engineered by Austin Bryce. I only omitted the names of Ken and Chloe, and the fact Chloe worked part-time for my client. I explained the role of Tiger Ying but didn’t tell Mike I now had custody of it. That seemed to satisfy him for the moment though Mike warned me he was only giving me twenty-four hours before insisting I hand over the names whether or not they consented to it. I told him I would because I knew he was right. But, I needed to ask Ken and Chloe first because we’d agreed to no cops. It was important for me to keep my word.
“So, why don’t you think Bryce rather than Chambers killed Tran?” Mike said. “I see no motive for Chambers, but it’s easy to see Bryce would have one.”
“Two reasons. Tran was meant to talk with Chambers, not Bryce. And, Bryce wouldn’t have had any knowledge of the theft scheme, or even who Tran was. What motive could he have had?”
“Okay then, but I still don’t see any motive for Chambers either, assuming Tran even met with him before someone killed him.”
“I’ve wrestled with that a bit,” I said. “Though it’s only speculation, my best guess is Chambers was somehow involved in the arson scheme and has as much reason to keep it all under wraps as Bryce does.”
“You mean maybe they hatched an insurance fraud scheme, and Chambers convinced Bryce to torch the museum to destroy the artifacts for a cut of the insurance proceeds?”
“Exactly,” I said. “That could explain why Chambers might kill Tran when Tran approached him about Tiger Ying. He wanted to shut him up to avoid having the scheme exposed.”
Mike said, “There is still one thing that doesn’t add up.”
“What?”
“If Chambers and Bryce conspired to defraud the museum’s insurance carrier, why is Tiger Ying still around? It should have been destroyed in the fire along with all the other pieces Chambers loaned the museum.”
“My source believes Bryce removed Tiger Ying along with all the other artifacts before setting the fire,” I said.
“But that would mean he took a payoff from Chambers to destroy the artifacts but had already double-crossed Chambers by stealing them instead of letting the fire destroy them.”
“Not too hard to believe Bryce would have done that,” I said. “He would have got paid on both ends. He’d have gotten Chambers’ money and would have been free to cash in a second time on the sale of the artifacts later.”
Mike nodded. “There is one other thing you haven’t thought of.”
“What is it?”
“Tran could have met with Chambers and shared his information. Instead of killing Tran himself, Chambers could have told Bryce about it, and Bryce could have killed Tran for the same reason, to silence him.”
“True, and I hadn’t sussed out that angle,”
I said. “Only if Bryce had double-crossed Chambers as we have speculated, then it seems unlikely Chambers would have shared what Tran told him with Bryce. In fact, he might want to take revenge for the double-cross.”
“Unless he used the information he got from Tran as leverage to get his artifacts back from Bryce,” Mike said. “Then he would be the beneficiary of the double payday.”
“Fair point,” I said. “So, it looks as if you have two solid suspects for Tran’s murder.”
“Where is Tiger Ying now? I heard earlier today from someone in property crimes your client has made a theft report.”
“Yes, I convinced her to do it once the reason not to report it to the police had evaporated. As to your question, I have it. I convinced my contacts it was best if I held onto Tiger Ying until things are sorted.”
“Why? It’s officially stolen property now. You should turn it into property crimes and let them hold onto it.”
“Because of what I already told you,” I said. “My client doesn’t own Tiger Ying. She took it on consignment from Bryce. Bryce isn’t the rightful owner, he stole it from the museum. Chambers doesn’t even own it any longer. He was paid for it by an insurance company. The insurance company it seems is now the rightful owner. But the man who was framed for arson and went to prison needs it long enough to get his name cleared.”
“All the more reason for the police to hang onto it until the whole mess is resolved.”
“I won’t risk Bryce getting his hands on it before that happens,” I said. “He might have his attorney get a court order to get it back from the police before we get enough evidence to clear my guy.”
“Legal issues aside, have you considered someone has already killed over the damn thing?” Mike said. “You could have a target on your chest right now and for as long as the thing is in your possession.”
“I’ll risk that, I won’t risk Bryce getting it back,” I said.