by Adam Maxwell
“Would you care for a beverage?” Lucas managed somehow to stay just this side of smarmy.
“Chai Tea,” Beeks said with a snort. “With milk. For both of us.”
Lucas pressed a button on the phone and a digital ringing could almost be heard coming from the outer office. After three rings it was answered.
“Miss Nicholson, would you be so kind as to fetch our guest some tea?” said Lucas.
“Mr. Price, do you realise that I haven’t been paid for over three weeks?” she replied, her voice high and shrill. Lucas glanced up at the men who were gazing around the office. Thank God they couldn’t hear her.
“That’s right, yes. As you know, there is going to be a delivery later this afternoon.” Lucas covered the mouthpiece and whispered to Beeks and Redford. “She’s concerned that you might want Darjeeling and we’ve run out.”
“This afternoon, eh?” Miss Nicholson’s voice was thin but it was still angry. “Those horrible men you’re with are paying you then, are they?”
“Yes, yes. That’s two cups of Chai Tea for our guests.”
“We don’t have any tea. We don’t have any money for any tea. I drank the last cup of tea this morning so the only tea bag we have is in the bin.”
“Perfect, well if you could stick the kettle on and brew that up that would be wonderful.”
“What? Really?”
Lucas hung up before she could irritate him any further.
“So... gentlemen,” he began, relaxing back into his chair, the only one in the room that offered any comfort whatsoever. “How is the restaurant business?”
“Moving forward,” said Beeks.
“Slowly,” added Redford.
Lucas nodded knowingly. He knew nothing of the restaurant business but he knew much of knowing nods. He added a sage-like rub of his chin. He would have rubbed his beard but this outfit hadn’t called for the addition of a beard.
“And part of that slowness is down to you, Logan Price,” said Beeks tersely.
“A very large part,” confirmed Redford.
“Our business partner is very anxious to get the place open and start making money,” Beeks continued. “The bar is stocked. The chef–”
“His work is exquisite.” Redford smacked his lips. “And I am quite the epicurean, Sir.”
There was a knock at the door and Lucas called over for Miss Nicholson to come in. She entered carrying a tray with three cups, a milk jug and a teapot which, thankfully, was not as dirty as Lucas remembered.
“Thank you, Miss Nicholson, if you could pop it down on my desk I’d be grateful.” Lucas waved his hand at the desk then, turning back to his gentlemen guests, said “I have some very good news for you both.”
“That was what you said last time we were here, Mr. Price,” Beeks snapped. “I wasn’t even sure that we should give you the benefit of the doubt but...”
“Certain stories have come to light about a gentleman of your description,” Redford interjected. “Stories that do not impress ourselves or our employer.”
Miss Nicholson laid the tray on Lucas’ desk before turning on her heel and fluttering out of the office.
“A misunderstanding, I’m sure,” said Lucas. “There are many gentlemen fitting my description in Kilchester. And many fitting yours, Mr. Beeks, and, if I might be so bold as to say, yours too, Mr. Redford.”
Beeks tried to interject but Lucas stood up and turned his back to them. “But I’ll wager none of those people have what I have in that filing cabinet over there.” Without turning around Lucas raised his right hand and pointed to the filing cabinet in the corner of the room. “Do either of you take sugar?”
Lucas began to feel his powers returning; he was back on top of his game. These two idiots were ripe for the picking. He would sell them the fake and then, if he was in a good mood, he might actually stand by his promise and pay Miss Nicholson.
The consensus came back that neither of the two wanted sugar. Which was probably for the best given that he had none. Lucas poured the tea into the first cup; there was a slightly unusual smell and he suddenly snapped back into the moment.
The tea bag. From the bin. Oh shit.
He poured a second cup and…was that something floating in the tea? He glanced at the third cup but decided he would pass, given the nature of the brew. Something outside caught Lucas’ eye, something fast, yellow and noisy growled past the window.
He shook his head and lifted the milk jug, adding a little to each cup then turning to his guests. Lucas wasn’t sure the smile he had balanced under his nose was convincing anyone.
Beeks and Redford took their cups of tea and began lifting the putrid liquid to their lips. Well, he’d had a good run, hadn’t he? That it ended in this way wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. He gagged slightly at the thought of the horrid liquid sloshing down their gullets and finally sat back down in his seat to face the music.
Chapter 11
“This is quite simply–” Beeks began loudly.
“The most wonderful Chai Tea I have ever tasted,” said Redford in amazement. “I have never tasted its equal.”
Beeks nodded. “We may have to pressure you into revealing your supplier so that we can have it in the restaurant.”
Lucas opened and closed his mouth a couple of times but nothing in particular came out. Eventually he mustered a short, “Miss Nicholson is quite the secretary.”
“So, what have you got in that filing cabinet of yours for us then?” Beeks sipped at his ashtray-infused brew happily.
There was a noise in the outer office, slamming doors, raised voices. Lucas closed his eyes. It was all going so well. For those twenty seconds, right there, it went well and then... More shouting. Miss Nicholson saying that someone isn’t allowed to go in. Oh shit, who was it? Someone had caught up with him; that much had to be true. But how the hell did they find him here? Beeks and Redford frowned at one another but neither stopped drinking.
Lucas stood up and was about to launch into something when the door flew open and a woman walked in.
And what a woman. Lucas’ eyes widened, his hand went instinctively to straighten his hairpiece.
She stood in the doorway, a true femme fatale: the Jackie-O sunglasses and black dress. The three men stared unblinking at her. She slunk into the room swinging an attaché case, her ruby stilettos clicking on the polished floor.
“Why won’t your staff park my car?” she barked at Lucas. “I’ve left it outside. The keys are in the ignition.”
“Buh,” Lucas began. “Wha?”
“It’s yellow. Quite low to the ground... erm – oh, what did the man say it was called? Lamborghini.” Violet took off her sunglasses and put one of the arms into her mouth, pouting as she did so. “Do be a dear and tell the little girl to sort it out will you?”
Lucas glared at Miss Nicholson as she stormed out in silence.
“Logan, darling, it’s so good to see you.” Violet tottered over to the desk, sat herself on the corner and crossed her legs dramatically. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Do you have what I came for?”
Lucas didn’t have a clue but he could see both Beeks and Redford were quite happy, sitting there sipping their terrible tea and trying to catch a glimpse up this woman’s dress.
“I was in the middle of a meeting I’m afraid,” said Lucas, finding his feet. She was someone in the game. A conman. A conwoman. Like him. But a woman. In a fucking Lamborghini? “Would you care to wait in the office with my secretary whilst I conclude my business with these gentlemen?”
“With that ghastly secretary of yours? Certainly not. Don’t mind me, though. I’ll wait here. You don’t mind do you, gents?”
Beeks and Redford flushed with embarrassment and shook their heads.
“I think we’ll be done here in a few moments.” Beeks stopped staring at Violet’s chest long enough to glare momentarily at Lucas.
“Yes, I don’t think we’ll be here much longer,” added
Redford without bothering to avert his leering gaze.
“Gentlemen.” Lucas sat back down in his chair. He was a professional. First he would handle the situation with Beeks and Redford and then he would handle the situation with this strange interloper. “And lady,” he nodded to Violet, keeping his eyes on the tea drinkers opposite. “Let’s cut to the chase. I have the item you’re looking for if you have secured the funds to purchase it.”
There was a sharp tapping noise as Violet drummed her fingers on the polished lid of her attaché case.
Beeks squinted at Lucas and he drew breath, “Mr Price, your reputation has been questioned. How do you respond to these accusations?”
Lucas stood up and walked over to the filing cabinet. He pulled at the top drawer, which protested then juddered open with a metallic clack-lack-lacklack. Lucas took out a large, brown envelope which he handed to the two men.
Violet said nothing, watching Lucas in action from behind a coy smile.
“I don’t respond to any such accusations,” Lucas said, removing an X-ray from within the envelope. “I will simply state that sometimes when one is asked to procure certain obscure items then one must rely on individuals one would usually cross the road to avoid.” Lucas accidentally looked over at Violet, who in turn raised an eyebrow in mock-shock.
“This,” he continued, “is a chest X-ray of Marilyn Monroe. Or, as you’ll see if you look in the corner there, Marilyn Di Maggio – which was her married name when the image was taken.”
Redford had already plucked a mahogany-handled magnifying glass from his inside jacket pocket and was examining it closely and with some reverence.
“November 1954,” said Redford to Beeks, nodding enthusiastically. “The date’s correct... my goodness.”
Lucas handed over the envelope to Beeks, who snatched it greedily and took out the rest of the contents.
“Careful,” said Lucas with a laugh. “You break it, you bought it.”
He had them where he wanted them now, it was time to close the deal. “So, gentlemen. Seventy five thousand pounds and we have ourselves an accord?” Lucas perched himself across the desk to Violet, clapped his hands and had to concentrate hard not to start rubbing them together.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Beeks, slipping the two X-rays back into the envelope and handing it to Redford.
“I’m sorry, what now?” said Lucas, thrown for a moment. “I thought these were going to be on display, the centrepiece to your restaurant?”
Beeks nodded patiently. This was a man accustomed to wielding his power to negotiate. “They may be real and, frankly, they may not. This is not a risk myself or Mr Redford are willing to take and certainly not one our employer would endorse. As such, the best offer we can make you is seven fifty.”
“Seven fifty? I don’t quite follow…”
“Seven hundred and fifty pounds.”
Violet stood up, walked over to Redford and plucked the envelope from his hand. “Mr Price,” she purred. “There are eighty five thousand pounds in that briefcase. You can count it if you like.”
“There’ll be no need for that, Lady Emsworth.” Lucas not missing a beat. Whatever her play was he liked it and he was going with it.
“What?” said Beeks. “But–”
“Miss Monroe was my heroine, you see, I couldn’t see these fall into the wrong hands.” Violet opened the envelope and turned her naked back to the men whilst holding up the X-ray of Marilyn Monroe’s chest to the window, letting the light stream through it. “And Mr Price and I have done business on many occasions before. You may have reasons to doubt him but I do not.”
Violet slid the X-ray back into the envelope and turned on her heel, marching across to Lucas and cupping his chin with her hand. “Pop the receipt in the post darling.”
“Now wait a bloody minute,” Beeks screeched. “We were here first.”
Violet turned to him, affronted.
“Mr Beeks,” Lucas said calmly, “Lady Emsworth is a long standing customer of mine. I happened to mention that I had acquired these for you when we were dining together last week. She expressed an interest but I told her they were not available. My word is my bond.”
“Then where’s your bloody bond now, boy?” Redford blurted. “They’re ours.”
“Gentlemen, I would have been happy to sell them to you but to come to my place of business, my home from home, and to insinuate–”
“I don’t think they insinuated anything, they said you were a liar, darling,” said Violet, cocking her head to one side and raising an eyebrow.
“Shut up, you,” said Beeks, holding up his fist and wagging an outstretched finger at her. “We need these,” he whined. “He promised...”
Lucas held up two flat palms.
“Well,” said Violet, putting the envelope down on Lucas’ desk. “Perhaps.”
Beeks panted slightly and stared at the envelope.
“But on two conditions,” she added.
“Name them, Lady... err...” he stammered.
“Emsworth.”
“Lady Emsworth.”
“Very well, a deal is a deal. I will leave my money with Mr Price for the other item we discussed but I will allow him to sell you the X-Rays of Miss Monroe.”
“Very gracious of you,” said Redford, whose nervousness was now so pronounced that not only had he turned beetroot but had also been moved to actually look Violet in the eye.
“Condition number one – you must apologise to dear Mr Price here for your previous slurs.”
Beeks and Redford mumbled and burbled something virtually inaudible.
Violet clapped her hands. “Pardon? Louder please.”
“I apologise,” Mr Beeks said. “Unreservedly.”
Violet glanced across to Redford and nodded.
“Absolutely,” said Redford. “I apologise for any and all implications.”
“And I think it would only be right to match my offer,” said Violet finally.
“What?” Beeks blurted but then, catching himself, he breathed in then out then took another pass at his response. “It would be the right thing to do. Of course.”
Redford glared at Beeks but Beeks was unmoved. “Do you want to tell Terry we failed? Because I don’t.”
“Excellent,” said Violet. “Job done, then.” And with that she trounced out of the room.
“Lady Ems–” Lucas almost chased her but Beeks and Redford were picking up their bags from the floor. Follow the girl or follow the money?
Lucas watched the door close and walked, stunned, back behind his desk.
Chapter 12
Lucas Vaughan ran his fingers through his hair and let out a manic giggle. From the pile on his desk he picked up a wad of twenty pound notes. It was maybe a centimetre thick and the cash strap that held the bundle together had a number printed on it. And the number was one thousand.
Flicking the notes under his nose, Lucas inhaled deeply. No matter how many times he did that he never could quite grasp why people did it. The money smelled like... well, it smelled like the inside of the bag it had been carried in. Lucas slid it across the desk, putting it back with its eighty four brothers and sisters and turned his attention to the attaché case the mystery woman had left. Pulling it across the desk it was clear that it didn’t contain quite as much money as she had claimed, but she had left it and presumably that was for a reason.
He could have sealed that con without her. But, damn, she just stamped on the accelerator and sold that shit. And now Mr Beeks and Mr Redford were half way across town with... well they had an envelope full of X-rays at any rate.
The attaché case had two catches and next to each were three digits. A combination was required. Lucas spun the tiny wheels a few times, testing some obvious combinations, but nothing dislodged. There was time for that. But first there was the small matter of the death of Logan Price.
Lucas opened one of the large, lower drawers in his desk and pulled out a bag before scooping the mo
ney and the attaché case into it and zipping it closed. He held the handles tight in his fist for a moment and stared at the door to the outer office. After a moment his glance flicked to the seats previously occupied by Beeks and Redford and the tea cups that now lay discarded on the floor by the chair legs. He sighed and let the handles of the bag fall from his grip.
Picking up the phone Lucas pressed a single digit and heard the electronic buzz in the outer office.
In the earpiece the ringing stopped but no-one spoke at the other side.
“Miss Nicholson?” said Lucas, not really sure if he was even connected.
There was a faint sigh.
“Would you be so kind as to join me in my office?”
The line went dead.
Lucas stared at the door but, for a moment, nothing happened. No footsteps, nothing. And then, at the point he was about to give up and leave, the door burst open and Miss Nicholson stormed up to the desk with a scowl on her face.
“Miss Nicholson, I want to say something and please, please, please, let me finish before you respond.”
Miss Nicholson pouted in silence.
“Miss Nicholson, I’m not an honest man. But, if you’ll allow me, I will be honest with you.”
She raised an eyebrow and glared.
Lucas reached up and pulled the blond hairpiece from his head, revealing the short, mousey-brown hair beneath. He threw it into his bag.
“My name is not Logan Price, I’m not a dealer in obscurities and I never had any intention of paying you,” Lucas winced as the words dropped into the room.
Opening her mouth to respond, Lucas jumped in to stop her, “Please!” he said. “Don’t hit me yet. You have shown more loyalty in the face of an overwhelming bastard than I have any right to have deserved and...”
Lucas lifted the bag on to the desk and unzipped one corner.
“Today is the last day I’ll be requiring your services, as I’m going to be closing down the business. I have something for you.”
He reached in to the bag, took out a single bundle and placed it on the desk in front of Miss Nicholson.
