Raven motioned with her head and walked toward the bedroom. Bo followed like an dutiful pup.
If love makes the heart grow anything surely hatred kills it.
"Cleveland? What the hell are you doing in Cleveland?" Walter screamed when they spoke Saturday afternoon. Paul had never handled criticism well.
"There was a third party," he said trying to explain his encounter with Gunner.
"I could give a damn about him. You were supposed to contact the gentleman on the roof and the woman on her way out."
"Your girl screwed that up."
"You have an excuse for everything. Only there is no excuse for an unfinished job now is there?"
"I guess not. But our return will require another payment and knowing the exit strategy you mentioned."
"You want another commission? I don't think so."
"The third party could recognize me and as goes the risk, so goes the reward."
"That risk was self-created. You should have closed the deal on the spot so I still don't see how this impacts our agreement."
"Nonetheless the next commission will have to double to keep our interest."
The pounding of Walter's fist jumped through the phone. "You do the job as agreed or I call your references and you'll find the future's market bare. Or maybe I tip the Hoover boys about where they can find their missing cherry pie."
Paul's voice rose. "Now you see here." He stopped and took a deep breath. His tone flattened. "Provide the exit strategy and the man will be contacted at home."
"You said you were in the Navy. There's a vessel there at the Yacht Club you can use to vacation."
"The name and slip?"
"Um," Walter said over the sounds of rustling papers. "Windsong, the name is Windsong."
"Windsong, got it.?"
"I can provide the slip info and your letters of marque as it were so you can make way for Port Royal or wherever. But only after you contact the man."
“My co-worker will be on the evening flight.”
“You’re not coming?”
“If you’re unwilling to increase the reward I’m not interested in upping the risk. Besides if anyone's watching they're expecting two and one is all that’s needed here.”
Paul hung up. He brought Peter up to speed on the plans. After Peter left for the airport, Paul unlocked the door to Cheap Trick’s room. He brought her to the living room.
“I want your help,” he said.
“Okay.”
“Go around and see if you recognize anyone in the photos, search through drawers for anything with a name on it. I want to know who owns this place," he said. "and that boat,” he concealed in a thought.
“I will,” she said. “Where’s Peter?”
“He had to catch a flight. He’ll be back late tomorrow.”
Miranda lunged at Paul and squeezed him into a hug. “Thank you.” She leaned away and looked him in the face. “Thank you for not killing me.” She hugged him again.
“You’re not out of the woods yet so behave yourself.”
“Okay.” Miranda bit at her bottom lip.
“Go,” he said waving her away.
Paul began rifling through drawers. Ten minutes later as he sat in a high back upholstered chair reading a stack of documents he had collected Miranda returned.
“It’s Jay Fitzgerald,” she said showing him a photograph.
“So you know him?”
“I don’t know him know him but I know who he is, everybody does.”
“You go to the same school?”
“Nooooo,” she said, “He goes to West Haven goof.”
“And you don’t?”
“Well how could I after all, I’m not a boy now am I?” Her hips shimmied in her t-shirt.
“Oh West Haven is an all boys school?”
“Ya think?”
“Don’t get smart with me.”
“Or what?” she challenged, “You’ll spank me?” She turned her butt to Paul and lifted her shirt mooning him.
“Then Edgar and Abigail must be his parents,” he said flipping through a collection of papers and envelopes.
Miranda threw her hands in the air.
“Go take a shower and see if you can find some clothes.”
“We're going out?”
“If you think you can behave.”
“Oh I can I can I can I can I can, I promise I can. Where we going?”
“Go get ready.”
Miranda sprinted away. After a quick shower and a streak from the master bath to one of the other bedrooms, she joined Paul in the kitchen. “I found some stuff in Jay’s room. They’re baggy but I think they’ll stay on with a belt. I found these in the back of his underwear drawer,” she said dropping delicate and lacy women’s panties one at a time in a pile on the island counter.
“Trophies?”
“You know, I haven’t seen a lot of Jay but I can’t remember ever seeing him with a girl or even a girl talking about having dated him so maybe?” she said. Her face questioned the underwear in a comical stare.
“Oh. Oh. Oh,” Paul said before concluding, “Ew!”
Miranda burst into a laugh.
“You’re not wearing a pair are you?”
“Why?” she asked and rocked her shoulders in a sexy saunter. “You want to see which pair I chose?” She lifted the front of a plain white tee and grabbed at the belt buckle.
“No. I'm not certain they’d be clean.”
“Ha-Ha true.” She laughed.
"Let's go," Paul said as he passed her headed for the front door.
“And by the way - if you're wondering - I’m not. I’m not wearing any.” She followed along behind.
Impossible to hold, love can only be felt.
After a tumble, Raven found Bo sitting at his office desk, flipping through a book on World War II era ships.
“How’s your appetite?” she asked.
Bo looked up to find her leaning against the door jamb in her white shirt and bare legs.
“Hmm. Fully satisfied and starving depending on which appetite you’re referring.”
The smile returned.
“Lunch Bo. Lunch.”
“Would love some.”
“Okay. You coming out soon?” she asked. “I didn’t fly all the way back from Paris to spend the day alone.”
“Speaking of that, I had plans to run out this afternoon.”
Raven’s arms crossed. The contentment drained from her face.
“If I could just.” He raised the bag containing the valve handle in defense.
Her bottom lip pushed into a pout.
Bo wondered how many times she had used the technique in the past. “But I would rather stay here – with you,” he said.
“Good,” she said in a celebratory cheer that ended in a gentle back kick. Raven turned for the kitchen. “What’s got you into trains?” she asked walking away.
“What? What do you mean - trains?”
She stopped and spun on the balls of her naked feet. “The water valve,” she said pointing to the bag in his hand.
Bo examined the bag as if he was seeing the handle for the first time. “This valve?” He raised the bag.
“Yes, Bo that valve – that water valve.”
“This is a water valve? From a train?”
“Mm-hmm,” she said. “I really am famished.” Raven twisted around and started walking again.
“How? What? Wait. How do you know it’s from a train?” He followed like a cub reporter on the verge of a front-page story.
She opened the fridge and started removing food. “I’m certain we’ve talked about it,” she said still working.
Bo stood across the peninsula listening.
“The,” her left hand rose high in the air, fingers snapping in a whisper as her mouth squeezed flat in thought, “the industry museum, Museum of Science and Industry. Last year I was project manager on the restoration of three vintage Pullman cars for the exhibit on the technology that tame
d the wild west.”
Bo’s hand covered his mouth holding the shock within. “That’s right,” he said wagging a finger in her direction. “You told me about that. You had a hard time finding an electric motor.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Maybe you do listen after all.”
“Any idea where it would be used?”
She stepped close and pulled the bag to her. Raven stared at the handle for a moment then turned the bag over and pushed the plastic tight against the metal. She tapped at the bag. “I would say it’s from a restroom lavatory.”
Her hands illustrated her explanation. "The Pullmans had overhead storage tanks that gravity fed single supply sinks, tap only. This handle would be for the valve between the tank and faucet to allow servicing or replacement without draining the supply tank. One this size would have been from a sleeper car cabin restroom. The dining car restrooms had square-headed handles so you needed a tool."
Bo was in awe.
“And it’s an original,” she said.
He waited.
“See the stamp,” she tapped at the handle. “Federal Valve, they went out of business just after the turn of the century, I think. You clean off the gunk and it’d be worth something.”
Bo grabbed her hand and kissed it with a resounding, “Mwah.”
“It wouldn’t be worth that much,” she said and sat a plate of cubed watermelon between them.
He smiled. "Grab the salt and I'll be right back."
Her words chased him down the hall. "Salt? You may as well have one of those Pie Moon things."
He returned with the property listings for the Fitzgerald and Freeman families. Bo peeked around her to see the salt had not moved.
"Try it," she said.
"I like it with salt, makes it sweeter."
"Well maybe this one is sweet enough without salt."
"I always eat it with salt," he mumbled.
Raven unbuttoned her shirt enough to expose her left breast. Bo sat and watched as she took a piece of melon and rubbed it in a circle around her nipple. She held it out to Bo. He leaned to take it with his mouth. Raven snapped it away and popped it into her mouth. "Sorry, no salt." She shrugged.
Bo felt rejected then perked up. "Now that it's wet." He pointed at her breast. "You could sprinkle salt then rub the watermelon on it."
"You're incorrigible Bo Boson, simply incorrigible."
Bo laughed long and hard.
Raven reached back for the salt and plopped the shaker on the counter. "You can salt your own," she said glaring at his chest. She buttoned her shirt. They ate watermelon. The shaker never moved.
While she sliced turkey for sandwiches, he rifled through the asset reports hoping to find a Pullman train car listed. None. In the middle of sandwiches, the phone rang. It was Gunner.
"I know where the valve is from," said Bo.
"Where?"
"A train."
"Oh jeez. That narrows it down to like, I don't know, a million."
"Right but it's not from your average train car. It's from a 19th century Pullman, a sleeping car."
"That narrows it down but you do realize it doesn't mean it came from an actual train car."
"Sure but if hope is all I have right now, I'll take it."
"You figure it out at the library or museum?"
"Never left the house."
"What you mean?"
"Raven recognized it."
"Really? Wow. Beautiful and smart, she must be a natural redhead."
Bo chuckled as he took in her beauty, his eyes agreeing with Gunner's observation.
"How did she know a 19th century valve handle?"
"She put herself through college working for a traveling strip joint that followed a circus train across the country." Raven flashed white enamel and Bo rocked holding a laugh.
The phone went silent.
"She did not," Gunner exclaimed.
Bo's laugh burst forth. "No. She managed a team who restored three cars last year."
"Now that I believe. Could it be from the same museum as the typewriter and paper?"
"Not sure. I'll call Monday."
"Sounds like a plan."
"You still at TLC?"
"Yeah."
"How can I get ahold of you? Last time the bonehead wouldn't put my call through."
"I'm still not there officially. Should I call every ten - fifteen minutes?"
"Um, no."
Gunner snickered. "I'll call you after I pick up a pager."
"Alright, I'll give you some money to cover it when I see you."
"Don't worry about it, I'm good. Really, I am."
"Okay." Bo hung up and returned to his lunch.
Perception is based in experience.
Paul and Miranda headed north like friends rather than captor and captive.
"Can I ask you something?" she said as Paul drove through the city.
He considered her question. "Sure."
"Ryder." She swallowed in a hard gulp. "Did you?" Her head fell and she picked at the polish peeling from her nails. "Did you kill him?" She waited for the answer.
"No, we didn't kill him."
She exploded to life. A huge smile took over her face. "Thank you." Miranda touched Paul's shoulder. "I'm glad you didn't."
Paul frowned and turned away then back to her.
"What?" she asked. "He is alive isn't he?"
"Yes he is," Paul shot back. "I swear he's alive."
"Then what was the look for?"
"I didn't save him because I like you Cheap Trick. Your friend was supposed to die with the others. When the police tried to take the building, we fired a bunch of rounds at them. We set a timer to blow the building, took the service elevator down and snuck out a side door dressed as security guards from the building across the street. The explosion was supposed to kill whoever was left. Someone made it to the boys and got them out."
"Oh." Her happiness drained away.
"I wish I had though. Saved him for you."
"I wish you had too." She provided a flat smile.
"Did you take me and leave them?"
"No, you were asleep in a crate in the bed of the pickup a couple of blocks away."
"Oh. I wasn't really asleep though now was I - I was high as all fuck, picturing shit I've never even dreamed of imagining."
"Sorry." Paul focused on the road.
"To be honest." She picked at her nails again. "I kind of liked it, it woke me up to a whole new reality."
The remainder of the ride to the Yacht Club was quiet. At the marina, Paul hoisted her over a fence then followed. Inside, they searched for the Windsong but found no boat with that name.
Paul spotted an older gentleman and asked about the boat. The man said he had been a club member for over thirty years and the name did not sound familiar. The seasoned sailor asked who owned the vessel. Paul gave the Fitzgerald name, Edgar and Abigail, adding the girl was a school friend of their son Jay.
The man laughed and told Paul he had it all wrong, the Fitzgerald's boat was a weird spelling of Abigail. He said it was the ABBA Gale. Before Paul could ask, the man pointed it out to the pair. They thanked the man and left.
At the boat, Paul surveyed the area before boarding. When they did, Miranda waited on deck to keep watch for anyone approaching. He checked the cabin to gauge the fuel level and supplies then searched for the owner's papers.
Miranda jumped to the cabin door and announced someone was coming. Paul pulled her inside. They stood quiet, Miranda pressed against his back and his hand grasped the knife handle. A man walked past without notice.
When the man had disappeared, she returned to her post. He went back to searching. Paul made quick work of his effort and they climbed from the boat. They walked to the main gangway and turned right toward the parking lot. They had passed several boats when a small group appeared before them.
As they crossed paths with the group, Miranda let out a tiny gasp. Her hand flew to her face. She tugged at
Paul's shirt and quickened her pace. He hurried to keep step.
"Miranda?" a voice came running up from behind. "Miranda Presley is that you?"
"Shit," she whispered and turned pasting a smile on her face. "Becky? Becky Everett?"
Paul guarded Miranda and reached for his gun. Miranda pushed his hand away and stepped toward Becky. The girl stopped shy of Miranda put off by Paul's presence.
"It's okay Gerald," Miranda said to Paul. "She's a friend from school."
The girls hugged. Becky kept eyeing Paul.
"Sorry, I'm afraid my bodyguard startles easily."
Paul relaxed, crossing his arms and flashing a stern bodyguard-ish pose. An older couple and a teenaged boy joined them.
"What are you doing here?" Becky asked.
"Same as you I guess, hiding from the mess back home."
"I saw your picture on the news. They said you had been kidnapped with that other boy."
"Oh no, it was all a huge mistake. I was at a friend's house and then my parents shipped me here to stay with a family friend. I'm so glad all that is over and done with. I can't wait to get back to school."
"Who's that dear?" the older woman asked.
"Sorry?"
"Who's the family friend you're staying with?" The woman looked around.
Paul tensed.
"Oh, you know," Miranda leaned close, "I'm afraid I can't actually say. It's all a big secret. You understand. We're waiting for some food and I didn't feel like hanging around inside where someone might recognize me. So imagine my surprise."
"Well we'll see you back then," the woman said.
"No. No. There's no need," Miranda said, her hands reinforcing her words. "I have the tree trunk here to protect me. I'll be fine."
"It's no bother dear."
"I'll see you at school Becky." Miranda turned and started walking away.
"Okay. Bye."
Paul walked in stride beside her. "Do not look back," she whispered like a ventriloquist.
When they reached the clubhouse door, Paul checked to find the group had moved on. Paul and Miranda went straight through to the parking lot on the other side.
"Damn Cheap Trick you're quick on your feet," Paul said as they climbed in the car.
"Thanks. Think you could call me by my name?"
"I thought you liked Cheap Trick?"
The Wolf Lake Murders (A Bo Boson Adventure Book 1) Page 24
