It Takes Two

hapter 1Richard Blackbourne stood at his office window, hands behind his back, as he surveyed the passing scene four stories below him. There was nothing unusual about it—the cars rolling by, the people bustling here and there. It was a typical Tuesday morning in the upscale, downtown area of a medium-sized city where he owned an elite jewelry store. “Anything interesting?” Muriel, his assistant, asked, coming over to stand beside him. “Nope, but I didn’t expect there would be.” “What about him?” She pointed to a man seated alone at a table on the patio of the swanky coffee shop across the street. “What about him?” “He’s not quite the usual type for this area.” She looked up at Richard, smirking. “He’s actually halfway good-looking.” “I suppose, if you like the wrinkled, ‘when was the last time he got a shave and a haircut’ thing he’s got going on.” “Snob.” She smacked his arm. “Not hardly.” He took another look at the man, and then said, “If you find him interesting, go chat him up.” “Oh, yeah. Liddy would have my hide if I did.” “How would she find out?” “Because we don’t keep secrets from each other. You know that. Besides, I only said he was sort of good-looking. Who knows if he’s the least bit interesting?” “Guess you’ll never find out. Seems like he’s leaving.” A credible statement since the man in question closed the notepad he’d been writing in, put it into his messenger bag, picked up his take-out cup, and left the patio. “Now you’ll never find out why he was watching us.” “Was he?” “Richard, you are neither blind nor stupid. You know he was.” He smiled and shrugged. “He may, and I stress the ‘may’, have been looking at the sign in the window. You know as well as I that he couldn’t have seen us standing in the shadows.” Muriel snapped her fingers. “That’s why the lights are out. You wanted to see if anyone was more interested in you than is warranted.” “Let’s say, caution is the watchword of the day.” He bent to massage his knee which still ached from the blow it had received the previous evening when an unknown assailant had attacked him while he walked home after dinner at a restaurant he favored. Other than that, he’d escaped relatively unscathed—barring a few bruises now hidden under his shirt. He’d been pissed as hell that he hadn’t been able to follow the man. It hadn’t been a debilitating injury, the assailant’s wishes to the contrary, he was certain. It had, however, curtailed his chasing after him. He was still hobbling this morning, but he was damned if he was going to waste part of the day letting his doctor check him out. He’d been hurt enough times to know when he should worry about an injury and when he could pass it off as something that would heal on its own. This one was the latter, and for the time being he would wear a knee-brace he’d picked up at the drug store on his way into work. “Because your attacker might have been someone connected to McCullough?” She’d asked virtually the same question when he’d first come into the office—among others, like “What the hell happened?” He gave her the same answer he had then. “Possible. Not counting it out.” It was possible. Like Richard, Donald McCullough had owned a high-end jewelry store. Soon after it had opened, rumors began that it was the front for a fencing operation. Rumors only—until Richard had helped the police prove they were true. That hadn’t sat well with McCullough as he’d ended up in prison. Richard’s name had been kept out of the proceedings, but he was well aware that nothing would remain a secret if the right or wrong people knew how to dig deeply enough to get answers. After all, it was what he did when asked to by the police. It was possible one of the man’s ‘clients’ had decided to do the same and then retaliate for losing their less than legal income. He wasn’t going to worry about it—for now. He had a business to run and it was almost ten A.M. Time to open for the day. He crossed to the standing safe in the corner of his office, and with Muriel’s help took out the trays containing the jewelry that was too expensive to leave in the showcases overnight. Despite the fact his store was on the fourth floor of a building with tight security, and that his own security was top of the line, he was no fool. There were thieves out there who could, and might, target his store. If they grabbed a few of the less valuable pieces he left in the showcases, so be it. His insurance would cover the loss. The expensive pieces were another case. He had no intention of losing even one of them if he could prevent it, so they went into the safe every evening after closing. * * * * “Not a bad day, for a Tuesday,” Richard commented when he tallied up the sales after they’d closed for the day. “Good, because I feel like I ran my feet off,” Muriel said as she came into the office. She was holding an envelope which she handed to him. “Someone slipped this under the door.” It had his initials on the front, nothing more. “Did you see who?” “Nope. By the time I got the door unlocked and went into the hall it was too late. I heard the elevator doors close. It went down, which is probably no surprise.” He agreed, as he used his letter-opener, an antique dagger he’d inherited from his grandfather, to slit the envelope open. Then he shook it and a slip of paper fell out. He used the dagger to flip it over since the back was blank. Not so the front. It held a brief, typewritten message. If you value your life, don’t go home tonight. “Short and to the point,” Muriel said. “Are you going to listen?” “Eh.” Richard spread his hands. “Let’s say, I’m going to be very cautious.” “Lot of good that’ll do you if a sniper’s up on a rooftop with his rifle aimed at your head.” “If he knows what he’s doing, it’s not my head he’ll be aiming for.” “Yeah, yeah, get technical. At least wear a vest.” “What? You’re not going to come along as back-up?” Muriel gave a very unladylike snort. “I love you dearly, but I value my life. Besides, Liddy would kill me if I did.” “Not if the sniper got you first.” Richard ducked when Muriel took a swipe at him. “Yes, I’ll wear a vest, and I’ll be armed.” He tapped the note. “I’d like to know who seems to want to keep me safe, and why.” “I’d like to know who wants you dead.” “There is that, of course.” “You might want to let your detective know so he can send reinforcements.” “Eldon’s not my detective. I helped him bring down McCullough and a few others. That’s as far as it goes.” “Still, Richard…” She wagged a finger at him. “Would it hurt to call him?” “Yeah, it would. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.” “Uh-huh. Your gimpy knee says otherwise.” “That was a surprise and I survived. Now, someone’s forewarned me and you know what they say about that.” “Yeah, you’ll be forearmed, presuming you can figure out who’s going to take potshots at you and from where.” Richard knew that would be iffy, but there wasn’t much he could do about it other than try to survive. That was presuming the note wasn’t a hoax to push his buttons after the previous night’s attack. If it wasn’t someone connected to McCullough behind what was happening, and he hoped to find out when he got home, then there was more of a problem than he liked to think about. He finished doing the books for the day, put what cash there was in the safe, then helped Muriel remove the last of the expensive jewelry from the cases, putting their trays in the safe as well. With that finished, he went into the storage room, and slid a set of shelves to one side, revealing a narrow cubbyhole. It held two flak vests and a weapons case. He chose a small pistol, an IMB holster, and one of the vests, slid the shelves back where they belonged, and went into the restroom. After he’d donned the vest, under his shirt, he attached the holster to the back of his waistband, added the pistol, and put his suit coat on, again. “You’ve gained a little weight,” Muriel teased when he returned to his office. Her expression, however, said she was worried for him. “You’ll be careful?” “Of course. Always am, and do not point out I wasn’t last night. I had no reason to expect the attack.” “I know.” She didn’t press the issue. They left the store, once he’d set the security system, and took the elevator down to the building’s lobby. At the front door they parted ways, Muriel getting into Liddy’s car, which was waiting out front. Richard walked down the block to the lot where he’d parked, keeping an eye open for any signs that someone was more interested in him than he’d like. No one was that he picked up on, and soon he was on his way home. * * * * Richard owned a modest house, set on a quarter acre of land in an upper-class area of the city. He also owned a small condo closer to his store. Since the condo wasn’t in his given name, he had no reason to think that was what the writer of the note had been referencing. “Guess I’ll find out,” he said softly as he drove slowly past his place. He had no doubts that whoever was after him would recognize his car, if they were watching for it—and he suspected they were. He would, if he were them. He kept driving, circling the block. Muriel’s earlier comments to the contrary, there were no rooftops a sniper could use. Or more to the point, he’d have to be an expert at what he did to get onto the roof of one of the houses on either side of Richard’s without being spotted by a homeowner. Nonetheless, he did scan them and the ones across the street, as well as the garages along the alley as he went down it. Nothing he saw raised an alarm. Feeling it was safe to do so, he went around to his street, up his driveway, and pressed the remote to raise the door to the garage. He stepped on the brakes when he saw his neighbor’s cat appear from the bushes at one side of the garage and stroll across the driveway in front of the car. The few seconds it took for the cat to reach the other side undoubtedly saved Richard’s life, because if it hadn’t been there, he would have been in the garage when it exploded, sending flames and debris shooting in every direction. The last he saw of the cat it was running hell-bent-for-leather for the safety of its owner’s porch. It took him a moment to comprehend what had happened, and bare seconds to put the car in reverse, backing away from the inferno. His hands were shaking when he pulled his phone from his pocket to call 911, and he took a deep breath before telling the dispatcher what had happened, while backing the rest of the way to the street. “Fire personnel and the police are on the way,” the woman told him a moment later. “Please stay on the line until they arrive. Are you injured?” “No, ma’am, but the tree next to the garage won’t live to see another day.” He laughed shakily. “What about neighbors?” He glanced around. “All present and accounted for. At least the ones who came out to see what the hell happened. Before you ask, the garage is far enough away from their homes, and mine, that they weren’t damaged.” Richard heard sirens in the distance, and within a minute or less two fire trucks roared into view, one coming down the alley, the other pulling into the driveway. It didn’t take long for the firefighters to get hoses attached to the hydrant and begin dousing the flames. The police appeared while that was happening. Richard stepped out of his car to greet them, and the interrogation began; with him telling them who he was and what he thought had caused the fire. “Somehow, someone rigged the door so when it was fully open it would set off the explosion. I owe that cat a big bowl of milk. If it hadn’t been there, I’d have been inside and bam…” He threw up his hands to demonstrate. “No more me.” “You’re certain that’s what happened?” one officer asked. “You didn’t have anything flammable in the garage, like gasoline or turpentine or some such?” “Sure didn’t. Even if I had, what would have set it off?” Before the officer could reply, a man in a suit, with his police ID hanging from a cord around his neck, approached them. “Richard, what the hell is going on?” “I was just giving the officers the details.” Richard frowned. “What are you doing here, Eldon? This isn’t your area.” “They called for a detective; I recognized the address and volunteered to handle it, given that it’s your house.” Detective Eldon North thanked the officers, telling them he’d take over, and asking them to start interviewing the neighbors. Then, he suggested he and Richard go into the house before continuing. They did, into the living room after Richard disarmed the security system. When they were seated, Eldon said, “I gather the explosion was set.” “That’s for the arson investigators to determine officially, but, yeah, it was. I received an anonymous note right before I left work this evening, warning me to not to come home if I valued my life. To be honest, I was expecting someone to take potshots at me, not blow me up.” “You kept the note, I hope.” “Yep. It’s sitting on my desk at work. I doubt there are any prints, but…” Richard shrugged. “Then you have no idea who might have left it, and who set the explosion?” “Nope on who warned me. Perhaps, on who’s responsible for the mess that used to be my garage. Someone associated with McCullough.” Richard was fifty-fifty on that. It seemed to him that anyone connected to the incarcerated fence was more likely to be the type to shoot him, or beat him up. The explosion smacked of someone with, as he thought of it, a working brain because of the way it had been set up. “There’s no one else who has it in for you?” “No. I own a legitimate jewelry store, which you know. I have no exes out for my hide. I don’t kick the neighbors’ dogs or try to seduce their daughters, or sons.” He grinned. “This is not funny, Richard. Someone did their best to take you out. Yes, maybe it was someone with ties to McCullough, but they’re more apt to go after you with a gun or a baseball bat,” Eldon said, echoing Richard’s thoughts. “That’s the mentality of most small-time thieves and burglars.” “I’m no expert, but I suspect you’re right. I can’t quite figure out how they’d know to come after me anyway, since my part in bringing McCullough down was supposed to be behind the scenes, although I suppose there could have been a leak.” “Not from my department,” Eldon retorted angrily. Richard held up a hand. “Not saying it was. But one wrong word over a couple of beers that was overheard by…whoever. Or maybe a reporter on the McCullough story who interviewed someone in the department, rattling off the names of the owners of some of the city’s other jewelry stores and getting a reaction when he mentioned me.” “If they did, who would they tell? It didn’t show up in any of the news reports and you know it.” Eldon sighed. “That’s beside the point and it still doesn’t answer my question. Is there anyone else who might want you dead?” “No. Absolutely not.” “All right. I’ll take your word for it. Guess I have to start looking at McCullough’s known associates, again. This time to see if one of them will crack and admit they set up the explosion or knows who did.” “It would be nice if they admitted it. Then I could stop looking over my shoulder, which I’m going to be doing for the foreseeable future after this and the attack last night.” “The what?” Eldon glared at him. “When were you going to mention that?” “Well…now?” Richard smiled briefly then went on to give him the details. “I’ve half a mind to put you in protective custody, if we could afford the manpower,” Eldon grumbled when Richard finished. “You’d play hell getting me to agree.” “Don’t I know it, from past experience? Should have forced it on you then, and kept it up, but like I said, we can’t afford the men to do it.” “I’ll be fine. I’m on the alert now so I’ll be extremely careful. Besides,” Richard smiled wryly, “I don’t want to hassle with my insurance company more than I will tomorrow when I tell them I’m minus one garage.” “I’ll make sure you get what you need from us to back up your claim, and remember to get in touch with the fire marshal or the arson squad too.” “Of course. When I get my hands on whoever did this I’m going to take an extra pound of flesh for having to spend hours on the phone with my insurance broker.” “If you find out, you turn the information over to me. Got it?” Eldon replied, giving him a ‘you better or else’ look. “I will. I was venting is all.” “Don’t blame you for that.” Eldon stood, saying, “I’d better finish up here so I can go home before the wife kills me.” “Like she’s not used to your hours.” “Too true, but that doesn’t mean she likes them.” Richard escorted him to the door, then returned to the living room to call Muriel to let her know what had happened. “I told you to be careful, damn it,” she said when he’d finished. “Well, in my defense, I was expecting someone would attack me, not try to blow me to smithereens.” “Either way…” She sighed. “At least spend the rest of the night at your condo, okay? Or the rest of the week, just in case.” “I was planning on it.” “And make sure you’re not being followed.” “Yes, Mom.” She chortled. “I should smack you for that.” “If you were my flavor and I was into the scene I’d take you up on it.” “But I’m not, and you’re not, so we’re both safe.” She blew out a long breath. “Please, please, stay aware. I don’t want a call from the hospital, or the morgue.” “That is not happening, I promise.” They left it at that, ended the conversation, and then he went upstairs to pack what he needed to take with him from his home office. Clothes would be no problem, he kept more than enough at the condo, along with personal items. His laptop and weapons were something else. He considered taking off the flack vest, decided to err on the side of caution, and kept it on. When he was ready, he slung his carry-on bag over his shoulder and left, using the fact that his yard was still full of police and men he presumed were arson investigators to cover his moving from the back door into the alley. Walking swiftly down it, and the next one, he then strolled casually to a nearby strip mall, where he called for a cab to pick him up in front of the pizza restaurant. He made two stops, switching cabs each time, until he was at the complex housing his condo. Twenty minutes later he’d showered and was in bed. It took him a while to fall asleep as he pondered who, other than McCullough’s people, might want him dead, and how they would have found him since none of them, to his knowledge at least, knew his name.