“Sure. I can hang out here. There’s quite a crowd in the store but none of them look suspicious to me. They’re all either buying weird stuff or asking questions that I don’t understand. What the hell is rococo?”
“How the fuck should I know? I could be being paranoid, but if Petey did see something, even if he’s not aware of it, that could make him a loose end in a very nasty case. There’s a lot of money and powerful people involved in this, and we’re getting closer. They’ll be digging holes to hide in as fast as they can.”
“You want me to say anything to Landry or Petey? They’re gonna wonder why I’m not going to the apartment to change and get a shower.”
“What do you think?”
Carson chuckled. “Landry’s gonna smack your behind when he finds out you’re keeping something from him.”
“We can tell them later when we’re together, but I don’t want either of them worrying until they have to.”
“Okay, I get it, but if things get heated, I’m blaming everything on you.”
Gage snorted. “Go pretend to be doing a fire safety check or something. I’ll see you later.” He disconnected the call. “Carson is going to stay with the boys. I’d rather be there myself but I think we should go pay a visit to our gem dealer.”
Sancha was already shrugging on her coat. “Let’s go. Maybe I can pick out a diamond for my next birthday gift.”
“Let’s hope not. Pietro and I are friends and I’d quite like for us to stay that way.”
“Not even a teeny weeny one?”
“Be grateful for the bottle of perfume you know he’s going to get you.”
“I’ll bet Landry would like a diamond.”
“He also likes alligators. He’s not getting a real one of those either.”
Sancha parked her car a block away from Scorch, not wanting to alert anyone to their presence. It was already getting dark, and the sidewalks were crowded with commuters hurrying toward the subway and the bus depot. Gage led the way, his intimidating presence helping to part the crowds until they turned off the main drag to a quieter side street. A garbage crew was at work, making Gage think how lucky Petey had been not to be scooped up by the trash compactor.
“Makes me shudder thinking about it,” Sancha said, her mind apparently in the same place. “That was a pretty ruthless thing to do.”
“They got what they wanted. I’d love to know what was in that package that was worth risking a murder charge.”
Gage was very familiar with the street leading to Scorch, a route he’d followed many times, though he hadn’t taken any notice of the nondescript premises on either side of the club. As they approached he was more observant than usual. The buildings on the block weren’t modern. They were sturdy, red brick constructions with narrow windows and recessed doors. Scorch had once been four separate premises before being knocked through to make a much larger space. To the far side, the four stories housed an art collective, rainbow flags in every window. The fake accountancy firm had bars on every window and a sturdy door.
“A shitload of security for a bunch of number jockeys,” Sancha observed.
“Sure is. Can’t believe I haven’t noticed it before, I’m down here often enough.”
“But you’re here at night, so you’d expect it to be all locked up, wouldn’t you?”
“I guess, and I’m always with Landry so my attention is elsewhere.” Gage contemplated the building. “How do you want to do this?”
“Straightforward knock on the door,” Sancha said. “We’re just making some inquiries, on official police business, so no need to bust anything down yet.”
“There’s a light on in one corner of the top floor,” Gage observed. He went over to the door. There was no bell or knocker, so he hammered on it with his fist, the sound surprisingly loud in the quiet street. He took a step back and made sure he had easy access to his gun. Sancha stood a few paces away so they didn’t present an easy target. Gage was about to knock again when he heard scuffling behind the door then the sound of chains rattling and locks disengaging. It swung open to reveal a short, pasty-skinned man with receding hair and a straggly moustache.
“Are you the proprietor of this business?” Gage asked, displaying his warrant card. Sancha mirrored his actions.
The man grinned. “Nah. I’m the custodian, fixing a leak in the bathroom. There’s nobody else here. They’ve all gone.”
“Gone as in gone for the day or gone for good?” Sancha asked.
“Above my pay grade. I just fix what I’m told to fix. You wanna come in and take a look around? I’m Cyril, Cyril Kazlo.”
“Sure, that’d be great.” Sancha gave him a reassuring smile. Gage kept his expression blank. When he and Sancha played good cop, bad cop, he was inevitably mister obnoxious. Cyril led the way inside to a boarded hallway, with peeling paint and a single, flickering strip light.
“Down here is just this storage closet for cleaning materials that kind of thing,” he said, shoving open the single door.
Gage took a quick look inside, but it seemed to be as Cyril had described. Metal racking held bulk packs of toilet rolls, cleaning fluids, stationery—all the things an active business might get through regularly. He grunted. “Let’s take a look upstairs.”
“Sure. Next floor is office space then above that are the meeting rooms. Top floor is a staff break room, restrooms that type of thing. It’s a narrow building, not much here.”
Gage brought up the rear as the three of them formed a procession up the stairs. “And there’s nobody here?”
“I haven’t been into the office,” Cyril said. “But I guess I would have heard if anyone was still around.”
The door from the stairwell to the office wasn’t locked. Gage pushed it open, searched for a light switch then turned it on. More flickering strip lights illuminated the space, and it was immediately obvious that it had been vacated in a hurry. There were no computers on any of the four desks, papers were scattered around the room and someone had been frantically shredding, leaving the machine overflowing.
“Well, I’ll be…” Cyril shook his head. “The landlord is not going to like this.”
“The company doesn’t, didn’t, own the building then?” Sancha asked.
“No, it’s owned by a property company downtown. They have several buildings in Seattle and they use the services group I work for to do the maintenance, cleaning, that kind of thing. We cover about ten of their buildings across the city. The call for the repair I’m here to do was logged two days ago but this was the first chance I had to get over here. It’s been stupid busy, ya know how it is.”
“Cyril, why don’t you show me the rest of the building while my partner here has look around the office?” Sancha suggested.
“Sure thing, lady. Ain’t much more to see, though.”
Once Sancha and Cyril had left, Gage donned a pair of latex gloves and began a systematic search for anything interesting. The paperwork would have to be gathered up to be examined in more detail, but he wanted to see if there were any obvious clues to what had been going on. On the floor next to the shredder he found some invoices that referred to carats and on a pin board on the wall, there was a tourist brochure about Amsterdam that sparked his interest. He pulled open desk drawers, feeling underneath them, scanned shelves and rummaged through bins but nothing else caught his attention. He put a call in for a crew to come and do a forensic search and gather anything that might be useful to the case then went to meet Sancha who was descending the stairs with Cyril.
“Nothing interesting up there,” she said. “They must have focused their attention on clearing out the office. There are a couple of men’s coats hanging in the break room, there’s food in the fridge. The coffeepot was cold, so I guess they’ve been gone a few hours at least. Cyril finished fixing the bathroom so he’s gonna leave now. Did you call in a team to collect all the papers?”
“I did—they should be here any minute. Someone’s going to draw the short
straw and have to piece together that shredding. Let’s walk Cyril out then wait outside. Did you fix the problem, Cyril?”
“Sure did. Wasn’t a big deal, just a loose connection in the plumbing. I have another job I have to get to so is it okay if I go?”
“Go ahead,” Gage said. He watched Cyril leave then turned to Sancha. “I don’t think there’s much more we can do for the moment, but we should wait for the team to arrive.”
She shrugged. “I guess you’re right. In fact, here they come.” An unmarked van pulled up close by. She and Gage gave the team a quick brief then headed to the car.
“They’ll secure the premises when they’re done,” Gage said. “Best we go find dessert then get back to Treasure Trove. If Landry is cooking, and we’re late, my life won’t be worth living.”
“He sure has you under his thumb,” Sancha said, grinning.
“Not denying it,” Gage said, grinning right back. As they strolled to the car, he told Sancha about the things he’d spotted. “It does point to this being some kind of jewel trading business. And I’d bet my next paycheck that the reason they cleared out so fast has something to do with the attack on Petey and whatever was stolen from him.”
“Not taking that wager,” Sancha said. “This case is beginning to stink like that haddock I mentioned earlier.”
“You’re obsessed with fish. How do you know what that smells like? I have questions.”
“Nosy detective. There was this one time when my kid brother shoved one between the wall and the radiator in his homeroom. Entire school smelt of rotting fish for months.”
“I’m not even going to ask why. Knowing Ernesto, it’s the kind of thing he’s still doing.”
“You’re not wrong. That man has a warped sense of humor. He lives to cause mischief.”
They picked up the pace and headed into the stream of traffic. One stop for chocolate silk pie, another at the liquor store for Sancha to pick up a bottle of wine and they were outside Treasure Trove before seven thirty. After a quick high five in the car to celebrate their efficiency, they went into the store where Landry was in the middle of cashing up. Petey and Carson were half-hidden behind a bookcase doing something Gage didn’t want to investigate too closely. Landry was sticking out his tongue, his brow furrowed in concentration. He held up a hand as Gage approached. Gage shared an amused look with Sancha.
“Don’t move,” Gage said. “He’s adding.”
“Then why does he look like he’s giving birth?” Sancha whispered.
“He says numbers were created by Beelzebub to torture innocents.”
“And Landry classes himself as an innocent?”
“You sound skeptical.”
“He’s as innocent as you are.”
Landry stabbed at his page with his pencil. “Done. You two should be on stage in Vegas by the way. Sooo funny.”
“You don’t sound like you mean that, honey,” Sancha said, holding out her arms for a hug. Landry obliged. “Sorry we disturbed you. Did you lose count?”
“Nah. I have razor-sharp concentration.” Gage snorted. “No hug for you, mister.”
Gage ignored Landry and pulled him from Sancha’s hold. He wrapped Landry in his arms then sucked up a hickey on his neck. Landry melted against him.
Sancha sniggered. “I could sell tickets to people to watch you two. It’s like having my own subscription to a private porn channel.”
“When do you have time to watch porn?” Gage said. “If you have spare time, you could be doing my paperwork.”
“Tell that to my kids, my husband, my cat and the goldfish.”
“Oh, honey… Tonight can be your therapy night.” Landry patted Sancha’s arm. “Food, good company and treasure hunting.” Landry took a step back from Gage. “Could you go on upstairs and put the potatoes in to bake? They taste much better if they’re done in the oven rather than in the microwave.”
“Sure. Just let me go say hi to Carson.” Gage left Sancha chatting to Landry while he weaved through the aisles to find Carson and Petey, who he discovered extracting themselves from an adults-only clinch. “Jesus, you two. Get a room.” Petey flushed, and Carson gave Gage the finger. “Sancha and I are going up to the apartment to start dinner. Can you hang around while Landry locks up?”
“I’ll go outside and do the security grill myself,” Carson said.
“Great.” Gage caught Petey’s quizzical glance. “You’ll be much quicker. Landry insists he’s an expert at hooking the loop on that thing, but it’s a hell of a lot easier for someone who is less vertically challenged.”
Petey smirked. “Better not let Landry hear you say that, Gage.”
“And you won’t be telling him, either, will you?” Carson gave Petey’s hair a tug. “Because then I may have to consider punishing you.”
Petey caught his lower lip between his teeth and blushed even harder.
“Way to go, Carson.” Gage complained. “My ass is grass. I think Petey considers that more of a promise than a threat.”
Carson chuckled. “Oh, I do hope so.”
Shaking his head, Gage retreated to the cash desk, looped his arm through Sancha’s then steered her toward the door to the back hallway. “See you in a few, Landry.” Once he and Sancha were on the stairs, he said, “Carson is going to keep an eye on things down there.”
“You’re really worried that someone might target Petey, aren’t you?”
“Just being cautious. We’ll talk to the boys tonight, let them know that they need to be watchful. I don’t want either of them in the store alone unless the place is full of benign customers. I’d guess one or the other of them goes out for coffee at least four times a day—they keep that café in business. Call me paranoid, but I don’t want Landry going through anything like he experienced during the lucky cat affair, and Petey is far too sweet for that kind of trauma. He’s been through enough already.”
“You realize that both of them are a lot more resilient than you give them credit for?” Sancha waited while Gage unlocked the apartment door.
“You spotted the overprotective tendency, did you?” Gage headed for the kitchen to deal with the potatoes.
“Difficult to miss, what with the flashing neon sign right over your head. Don’t worry, I get it. Landry is the love of your life and that dominant streak you have running through you like a seam of gold won’t let you countenance any harm coming to him. I’m kind of jealous.”
Gage cracked open the bottle of red Sancha had purchased on the way home. “And you are exactly the same about your family. There’d be blood on the walls if anyone tried to harm a hair on any of their heads, and I’m including the goldfish in that group.” He handed Sancha a glass.
“I’m now trying to imagine Moby with hair.” She giggled and gave Gage a nudge with her hip. “I love you.”
“Love you back, partner.”
“If we’re through with the mutual appreciation session, we’d better get on with dinner. What can I do?”
“Put dessert in the fridge then we can take our drinks through to the couch. If we do anything else and ruin Landry’s plans, both of us will be in the doghouse.” Gage clinked his glass against hers.
“Sounds like a fine plan.”
“Bottoms up.”
Chapter Eight
“That was a delicious meal, Landry. Thank you.” Sancha rubbed her belly. “My stomach also thanks you.” She belched.
“The ultimate compliment, according to Gage. You two spend too much time together,” Landry said, snickering. “You’re picking up his habits. But now we’re all done stuffing ourselves, Petey and I need to put you all to work.”
Carson and Petey returned from the kitchen where they’d been doing the dishes. “Were you taking my name in vain, Lan?” Petey waited until Carson resumed his seat before clambering onto his lap.
“Yes. Now focus. We have treasure hunting to do.” Gage topped up Sancha’s wine glass. He and Carson had stuck to one drink while Petey and Landry had sod
as. Landry put his map on the table. “Everyone knows about the map, right? Thanks to Gage we have a new clue—a watermark in the paper. So I thought if we all got to work on the Internet, between us we’d get more information quicker.” He produced his sketch of the watermark. “We have the word Bellingham, which could be a name or a place, or even a company. The year 1946 and the outline of a portrait painting.”
“I’ll take the whole thing as a logo,” Sancha said, taking a snap of the sketch with her cell. “I can do a reverse image search and go from there.”
“Cool. Petey, can you and Carson check out 1946? Significant events, that kind of thing.”
“Sure.” Petey bounced in Carson’s lap. “This is so exciting!”
“If you don’t stop bouncing,” Carson said, between gritted teeth, “I’ll be carting you upstairs for a spanking.”
“Oops, sorry!” Petey stilled. “I’m squirmy. I can’t help it.”
“Let’s relocate to the couch. I may need massage therapy.” Carson slung Petey over his shoulder. “Reconvene in half an hour?”
Gage nodded. “No getting distracted.”
“I’ll go join them,” Sancha said. “Leave you guys the table.”
“That leaves Bellingham to us,” Landry said.
“I’ll get my laptop so we don’t have to squint at a tiny screen.” Gage fetched his machine from the bedroom then set it up on the table. Landry grabbed a notepad and pen.
Gage flexed his fingers, cracking two knuckles. “Okay. Bellingham. Let’s see. Names first. Hmm, that’s a non-starter, there are far too many results. Let’s try places.” He tapped away for a while. “This is better. So, there’s a place called Bellingham in the UK, another one in Australia and four in the US. One is in South Carolina, another in Minnesota, the third is in Massachusetts, but guess where the fourth is? Right here in Washington. It’s in Whatcom County, not far south of the Canadian border, in between Vancouver and Seattle. It’s about ninety miles from here.”
“The name rings a bell,” Landry said, giggling. “It would, wouldn’t it? But I don’t think I’ve ever been there. It’s an awfully big coincidence that there’s a place with that name so close to us.”
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