The Golden Years

Poking The Bear

"The Banks guy went to her house and after about twenty minutes they both came out and went to the bank."

"Are they there now?"

"Yeah. We're outside across the street."

"Keep an eye on them." The call ended.

Ashby cursed and hit another contact on his phone. "Gimme Bradford, tell him it's Gavin Ashby." He wiped away some dust on the edge of his desk, waiting.

"Gavin? I'm in a meeti--"

"Riley Nursewood and a man are in your bank. I want to know what they're doing there."

"I'll have to get back--"

"Find out now, Bradford."

Annoyed but unwilling to argue, Samuel Bradford put him on hold and Gavin nibbled his lip, waiting.

"Gavin? They're gone. They were in the safe deposit box room."

"What were they looking at?"

"Her husband had a box. We knew that. We were stalling for a way--"

"You were supposed to keep her away from anything like that."

"The gentleman with her made some legitimate threats to our procedure, I think he had something to do with the police. I didn't have a choice."

Bugger! "What did they get?"

"I don't know what they looked at. You know that's done in private. Look, I have a meeting waiting. Is that all?"

Ashby tossed his phone down. "I knew that bastard kept something back." He growled.

He grabbed his phone again and made another call. "Levit, get over here now."

******

Riley handed Eddie the letter she finished reading, and just stared at the contents from the safe deposit box. There were printed photos of recognizable town dignitaries meeting with known criminal elements. Some at various hotels, others in offices. Her husband's partner appeared in several.

"According to this, Arnold Biggs was a P.I. working for your husband. That material is what he amassed while investigating your husband's business." He looked at her face, fraught with disbelief. "Riley, Tom knew the restaurant was a target for these guys. He wouldn't join, and they wanted it whether he was part of it or not. He was trying to arm himself in case they pushed too hard."

He waited for her to focus her attention. So Biggs was found out somehow, and before he was murdered in his room at Palm Sands, he had the presence of mind to hide the notebook in among the paperbacks. Eddie could see now why they were interested in Riley, and now him; they figured if Biggs didn't have it, she must.

She looked up. "When he was rushed into the hospital, they told me it was cancer . . . "

He put the letter down and moved around to comfort her. "Just take slow breaths. How long was he in?"

"Only a few days! They said it had been worsening over a long period and something just triggered it and he collapsed." She began to sob. "They- they killed him . . . he wasn't sick at all. They killed Tom . . ."

"Whoa, hold on. You don't know that for sure. Just because he was investigating them doesn't mean--"

She pulled away and stood up. "They killed him! You know it and I know it. And it was his rotten partner that- who . . ." The tears broke loose and she crumpled against the wall. Eddie went to her again. This time holding her under the arms as she cried into his chest.

"Come back and sit, I'll get you some water." He led her to the sofa and went to the kitchen. When he returned, she was wiping her face and hiccuping. "Take this."

"What am I going to do? They'll come after me now." Her voice stuttered.

"Let's not start thinking that way. I promise I'll stay and help you, Riley. We'll figure this out together."

She hiccuped again and took a breath. "Why. Why are you doing this for me?"

"Honestly?" He clasped his fingers together. "I can't accept the fact that I have retired from being a cop. All this," he waved a hand about, "has stoked the old fire. I lived for these situations . . . I didn't mean- crap. Sorry. You know what I mean - don't you?"

A tiny smile lifted the side of her mouth and she sniffed loudly. "I think so."

"So are we a team?"

"I can't- I don't know what to do."

"First, you go rinse your face. Look in the mirror and tell yourself we've got this, then offer me a beer."

She began to cry again, but this time it was accompanied by a soft laugh.

******

Gil Levit slumped in the chair, looking like a scolded schoolboy. Ashby was propped against the front of his desk, fists clenched and eyes on fire.

"I don't give a good god damn what Monestario says about him! I know who and what he is and I know what he's been doing! He's been cozying up to that Nursewood woman for a reason, and not the one your dirty little mind thinks!"

"I never said anyth--" Gil raised his hands.

"Shut up! You didn't have to."

Ashby straightened up and Gil flinched as his boss stepped closer.

"I believe Biggs gave that book to Tom Nursewood, and before we got hold of him, he gave it to his wife. Now that ex-cop is in the picture and I am betting she has given it to him."

"What can he do?" Gil shied away from Ashby's looming presence. "He's just a retired cop - from another country for Christ's sake."

"I don't want to sit around to see, Levit. Who knows what bloody strings he can pull?"

"But he won't get any help in this town . . . you own everybody . . ."

"Glad you realize that, Gil." Ashby's teeth bared. "You will speak to Mr. Banks, and you will learn the whereabouts of the book, and then you will see that he finishes his vacation somewhere out in the desert."

"What if he doesn't have it?"

"Then the second part of what I said will ensure he never gets it!" Ashby rose to his full height along with his threat, and Gil scurried from the room.

******

The svelte elderly woman padded quietly across the private patio and set the large drink on the side table beside the man on the phone. She had accompanied him without question as a silent companion, fulfilling his demands while monitoring his handling of the situation. She settled onto a lounge a few feet away and put on her hat and a pair of large sunglasses. After several minutes the call ended and the man took a swallow of the cold drink.

"Just a tad harsh still," he stated, setting it aside.

"I followed your directions . . ." She turned her head to watch him.

"If you had, it wouldn't be a tad harsh. Perhaps this wasn't the right choice."

The woman sat up, a touch of steel in her voice as she apologized. "I can make another.  Do you want--?"

"Perhaps your talents lie elsewhere," he said, settling back expectantly on his cushions.

******

The man who had been on the other end of the call stood with his forehead on the window glass, his eyes focused on nothing, but registering a possibly bleak future in his mind. He groaned and returned to his phone, dialling another number.

"Hi. He called." There was silence. "He wants it finished - now."

There was no reply, just the ominous sound of a dial tone.