The Golden Years

Old Instincts Come Alive

"Care to explain?"

"What? Why you followed me into the lady's room, Connor?"

"You know what I bloody well mean."

"It was a perfect chance to learn about him, and you have already screwed that up."

"Watch your pretty mouth."

"You just look out for yourself. I have already learned he's a retired cop."

"Really. Well I happen to already have that information, and it was from Monasterio. Same place you got it. So what else have we learned, Miss Super Spy?"

Gail grew angry and hurled the paper towel she'd used to dry her hands. "Stay out of my way, Connor, I don't think HE would want to find us arguing over this."

Connor's body stiffened, and he gave her a thunderous look. "Don't threaten me, Gail."

"Then back off and let me do what I was told to do." She brushed past him and returned through the dining room to their table.

"Okay?" Eddie half rose from his seat, as she plunked down.

"I got the last paper towel and it tore coming out." She faked a chuckle and picked up her wine.

The food was good. The conversation generic. But Eddie sensed the tenseness in her body language. He'd sat across from enough perps to recognize masking when he saw it. They both enjoyed a cigarette over coffee, and then left the restaurant, warmly thanked by Anthony himself.

The patio lights were on when they arrived back, giving the pool court an amorous charm. Eddie walked Gail across the flagstones to her room.

"Thanks for a lovely time." She slipped the key into the lock and turned back. "I could offer you a nightcap."

"Thanks, Gail, but I don't wear formal bedclothes." His grin couldn't be restrained over the look on her face. "Maybe another time. Thank you for the company." He gave her a salute and wandered back to his own room.

******

He stood in front of the mirror and shaved through the cloud of gel lather, considering Gail's possible interest in him. No arresting those detective instincts, he chuckled to himself. He rinsed the razor and wiped his face clean with the face cloth, turning his head side to side for inspection.

"It's not your Adonis face and body, Eddie boy." His lips twisted.

He padded out to the kitchen and smiled; the maid had delivered. Two large grapefruit sat invitingly on the counter. With a coffee and the free newspaper, Eddie settled in the shaded chair outside his room, noting several other guests already scattered about the patio.

The shadow fell across his paper and he looked up at the elderly man looking at him. Elderly was another relative assessment.

"Hiram Glacey, room 6. You're new here."

"Eddie Banks, pleased to meet you Hiram, and yes, first timer."

"Missus is Maude. That's her in the silly hat." He waved a hand behind him, and Eddie restrained a smile.

He folded up the paper and set it aside, waiting for the next comment.

"Retired, are yuh? You look a bit young but yuh never know these days. What did you do?"

"Civil service, Hiram. How long have you enjoyed your golden years?" He looked up.

"Huh? Golden years!" He hissed through a flared nose. "Only thing golden is my piss!"

Eddie snorted a laugh and immediately apologized. "I'm sure there's more to be said for being out of the rat race."

"Not much." Hiram looked away. His gaze became thoughtful. "Coast Guard was my rat race."

"Really."

"Yup, and if I had to guess, your civil service had to do with law enforcement."

His surprise came and went quickly as he studied the old man. Was this another probe or had he been vetted by Jim when he reserved - and if so, why? "You sound like you miss that race."

"Hmmn . . . Did have some excitement here a few weeks back."

"Oh? What kind."

"Fella died in number 9."

"Really. What happened?" Eddie mentally sat up.

"Don't know. Police suddenly showed up and everyone was told to stay in their rooms. They had a stretcher and carried a body out to the street. Couldn't see past that. Strange though. A couple of the officers had guns out. Had to be more than natural causes, I'd say. Biggs his name was."

Eddie silently acknowledged the man's perceptiveness. Guns out sounded a lot more serious.

"Did they say anything when they questioned you?"

"Never did. They all cleared out, and it was like nothing ever happened."

"What did Jim have to say?"

"Bah, Jim." Another disgusted snort. "He acts like it never happened too."

"But the guests must have been curious."

"Only Gladys Fletcher, Gail, and me and the missus were here at the time, and Gladys can't see or hear past five feet."

"And Gail?"

"Didn't do or say anythin'."

Eddie gathered his stuff and stood, offering a hand to Hiram. "Nice to have met you, Hiram and enjoyed the chat. Say hello to your wife, and tell her I like her hat." He left the patio as he stepped inside and slid the door closed.

Eddie poured another coffee and sat staring at a framed print of Greta Garbo on the living room wall. Curious to say the least, he thought, filing Hiram's story away with the interest he felt from Gail, and the owner at Anthony's Tavern. Investigative mind flexing old muscles.

Two weeks earlier

Ray Biggs lay on the day bed, one arm across his face, his other hand holding the neck of the liquor bottle beside him on the floor. Fate had walked in and taken a huge dump on Ray's life, and he was now about to be flushed.

The idiocy of the plan that brought him to this point was like a sharp pain behind his eyes - relentless. He discovered as soon as he made his move that he was playing in a game far above and beyond his talents, aka brains. It had appeared so simple, find the information, make a record, collect his money, and walk away solvent and untouchable.

Simple was what he was, not the plan. He groaned, and dragged the bottle up for a long pull. His intended mark made it quite clear that if he didn't have all the material he claimed to have on the man's desk in 24 hours, the two very dangerous looking thugs seated watching them, would take Ray apart bone by bone.

Time was almost up, and here he was hiding, scared out of his wits because he was afraid to run, even if it saved his bacon. The liquor, mixed with salty tears running down his face, burned a trail down his throat. The sound at the door of his room cut off his breath, and he raised up on a wobbly elbow. The door opened and the two men entered the room.

He couldn't even hide any good, he silently cried. Time was up.

******

"We have a problem."

"I thought you just took care of it."

"Yeah, well, turns out we didn't. The notebook wasn't with the material he gave up."

"And now it's too late."

"Well we didn't know. We thought we had it all."

"And Biggs?"

"The cops came and took him away. That all went as planned."

"You looked everywhere."

"We've tossed the room completely and the car. He told us that was it, how were we supposed to know?"

"Get back here with what you have. We'll figure something out."

"Right away, Boss."