Greatest Hits Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-4)

by Langtry, Leslie

  “His name is Sukhbaatar.” Chudruk appeared at my side. “It means Axe Hero.”

  Veronica looked at my friend with interest. “That’s a tough name.’

  He nodded. “He is favored to do well at National.”

  The combatants slapped their thighs and we turned our attention to the field. Both men were matched for height and weight. The only difference was experience, as Chudruk whispered. Zolban was a bit newer to the sport.

  Unlike his cautious brother, Zolban dove immediately for Sukhbaatar’s hips. His opponent broke free and grabbed Zolban ankle. Zolban spun on his heel and slipped from his grasp. Apparently, this match was going to be quite different. Sukhbaatar had to fight for every inch and it became clear immediately that Zolban’s very aggressive and active fighting style was a problem for him. I noticed Zerleg cheering for his brother on the other side of Chudruk.

  Sukhbaatar charged Zolban’s hips, but Zolban stepped just out of reach. He spun behind Sukhbaatar and from behind managed to throw him to the ground. The crowd roared, and I noticed with some pleasure that Zerleg was pumping his fist in the air in celebration. Yalta even sported a slight grin.

  Zolban did not grandstand. He merely nodded modestly at the crowd, then walked over to his opponent, extending his hand. Sukhbaatar’s face was bright red as he slapped Zolban’s hand away. The crowd jeered. No one, no matter what culture, thought bad sportsmanship was acceptable.

  The families celebrated the win with cooked mutton bought from a vendor. More vodka was passed around, and we all got pleasantly drunk as the day drew to a close and the competition ended. By besting his opponent, Zolban achieved the coveted rank of zaan, or elephant. Both families, Sansar-Huu’s and Chudruk’s, celebrated the win as if they were all related. This was the way of the steppes. They now had a connection and I was more than a little touched that I was the catalyst.

  I insisted that Yalta and Zolban ride in the cab of the truck while Veronica and I climbed into the back with the others. The darkening sky brought a chill to the windy road as we drove along. I was warm in my fur-lined deel, but Ronnie began to shiver. I put my arm around her and pulled her close. She resisted at first, then relaxed against me. The alcohol buzzed warmly in my veins and I felt good.

  Our friends chattered around us and I translated a bit for Ronnie. She laughed at the jokes a few moments later than they were told – and at many mangled translations I attempted, but I could tell she was starting to feel comfortable. That convinced me I had been right to invite her. In a sterile environment of a hotel in the big city, she wouldn’t learn anything.

  Eventually we arrived at the camp. Ogderel invited Ronnie to share their ger, but I insisted she be put up in mine. Too much cultural overload was not a good thing. It would be better if she was with someone she knew. Someone who spoke English. Someone who wanted to have sex with her. Yalta sent the boys over with an extra cot and blankets. Ronnie watched nervously as I set her up on the other side of the tent.

  She sat quietly on her cot, cuddling Sartre while I made some tea. It was warm in the ger. The felt walls kept in the heat put out by the small cookstove.

  “What are you doing?” she asked sharply.

  I kept unbuttoning my deel. “Getting undressed.”

  Ronnie’s face had a look of sheer panic. “Surely you aren’t going to strip right here in front of me!”

  “You’ve seen me in nothing but a towel. Get over it.”

  “I’ll-I’ll go outside and wait.”

  “Why?” I asked, even thought I knew the answer.

  “Can’t you just sleep in that?” Patches of red spread over her cheeks.

  I shook my head. “It chafes and isn’t very warm.” I found it hilarious that in spite of her modesty, she didn’t look away as I peeled off my zodag, leaving nothing but my shuudag. In fact, she looked a little frozen with fear.

  “Well, since you can’t take your eyes off of me, I’ll turn around.” I smiled. With my back to her, I pulled off the briefs, leaving me completely naked. For a moment I entertained the thought of turning around…just for the fun of it. But the fact that she was nervous about being here changed my mind.

  Did I imagine it, or was there a brief intake of air coming from this modest young lady? I slipped on a sweat suit and socks and turned around.

  Veronica looked stricken. And maybe a little excited. I couldn’t tell. It made me wonder if she had sex very often. Now why did that pop into my head?

  She accepted the tea gratefully and drank. “This is good. I was afraid you would give me more vodka. Or what did they call it?”

  “Arikh. You’ll only see that in the cities and at festivals. For the most part, we will be drinking airag.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Fermented mare’s milk.”

  She blanched. “Thank god you have tea.”

  “And that’s another thing I should warn you about. They drink their tea with salt and animal fat.” I watched with amusement as she grimaced. “But I have the good stuff.”

  She shook her head. “I never thought I’d hear tea called ‘the good stuff.’”

  I smiled. “There’s a lot you will have to get used to here. We eat a lot of mutton and goat cheese. Just remember to stay away from tarvag.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s marmot. And they still carry the black plague.”

  Ronnie’s eyes widened. “I guess I really am immersed in Mongolian culture now. What do we do during the day?”

  “We aren’t expected to help out, but I think you should. It will give you a little more experience. And Ogderel speaks some English. I’ll be training. You are always welcome to watch Yalta kick my ass.”

  This made her smile. “I’d like that.”

  I nodded. “I knew you would.” Exhaustion pulled at me, begging me to sleep. Veronica put the guinea pig back in her cage and slid between the blankets on her cot. I turned out the lantern.

  “Good night, Ronnie,” I said quietly as I climbed into my bed.

  “Cy?” she replied in the darkness. “Thank you for bringing me here, and for explaining and translating and everything.”

  “You are very welcome.” And I meant it. Veronica Gale was getting under my skin and I enjoyed it. In fact, I wondered, as I heard her breathe across the ger, whether I would actually get any sleep at all.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Those who are easily shocked should be shocked more often.”

  - Mae West

  I decided to let Ronnie sleep in. She looked so comfortable snuggled beneath the wool blankets. Actually, I wanted to get in there with her warm, sleepy body. Wrap myself around her soft flesh…

  Shaking my head to clear it, I shrugged on the rest of my clothes and after chugging some tea and eating a couple of protein bars, went outside to meet Yalta at the stream.

  “Pop says you did real good yesterday,” Chudruk said with a grin.

  “I could’ve done better,” I replied.

  He nodded. “Yes, you could have. But you were distracted.”

  I could feel my face warming in the cool, morning breeze. Was I actually blushing? I didn’t think I had it in me.

  Yalta put his hand on my shoulder. He looked me in the eyes and spoke slowly so I would understand. Yeah, that made me feel better.

  “You are good. You will do well at Naadam.” Was all he said. At least, that’s how I interpreted him. For all I know he called me an idiot unworthy of castrating sheep.

  “Tand bayarlaa.” I thanked him, but wasn’t so sure I deserved the praise.

  We trained for a few hours. This time, Yalta stressed technique more than strength training. I felt honored. He was showing me that I’d gone beyond his expectations. I was a Westerner who had made a good showing at the local Naadam. We had another one in a few days and Yalta told me he thought I could win at least one match.

  I worked very hard. His faith in me was a great honor, and I wanted him to understand that I knew that. This is what I came here
for. To test myself and learn. Maybe I wasn’t too different from Veronica after all.

  As we made our way back to camp at midday, I noticed that my fair and lovely roommate was sitting on the grass with Ogderel, making cheese. The Mongolian was speaking English slowly and Ronnie seemed to understand.

  “There is your man now.” Ogderel pointed at me with a smile.

  Veronica blushed a bright scarlet. “Oh! Um, he’s not…well, we’re not…” she stumbled, at a loss of how to explain our situation.

  “Sain bainuu!” I greeted the women, plopping down in the grass next to Ronnie. It was then I noticed she had Sartre with her. The gluttonous pig was between the women, chowing down on the cool, damp grass.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her out here…” Veronica bit her lip.

  I scooped up the pig. “Not at all. And you had her between you so the falcons wouldn’t get her.”

  She nodded. “I was worried about that.”

  Sartre squealed, struggling to get out of my grip and back to the juicy grasses. I placed her back between the women and she regally ignored me.

  I stood. “I’d better get back to the ger. I want to have some tea during my break.”

  Veronica looked at her hostess, then looked at me. She nodded and I took it to mean she was okay with that idea. Back in the tent, I stripped off the sweat-soaked shirt and replaced it with a dry one. After creating a fire on the stove and setting the kettle on, I lay back on my cot to await the kettle’s whistle.

  Every inch of my body ached. And I was extremely proud of that. Being here and working toward my goal gave me a sense of peace. Funny, isn’t it, how training for violence can make one feel that way. I stretched my legs out, kicking something with my foot. Odd. Everything should have been stowed in the trunks.

  I sat up and saw that there was a suitcase with wheels and a briefcase sitting next to my bed. Must have been Ronnie’s. Sansar-Huu made good on his promise and brought back her things from the city. I chuckled, thinking of Veronica trying to roll a suitcase on the steppes. My laughter came harder when I thought of her trying to plug in her laptop.

  “Is something funny?” The source of my amusement entered the ger. She was smiling. I loved it when she smiled.

  “Sorry. I just noticed you got your things.” I pointed at the cases on the floor.

  She rushed forward. “Oh! That’s great!” I watched as she opened the case and began sifting through it. I was hoping she might pull out a slinky negligee or thong. But not Veronica. All of her clothes were plain and practical.

  “I guess I won’t need my laptop.” She frowned as she held the plug.

  “Paper and pen will have to do.”

  “I brought some, but not much.” She pulled four large notepads out of her bag and I wondered what she considered a lot.

  “How much do you actually need?”

  Veronica sat on the bed, looking thoughtfully at the hole in the roof where the stovepipe went. “I need to make notes and I have to do that interview…” She pulled a digital recorder out and checked the batteries.

  I leaned back on the cot and closed my eyes. “If you need any help from me, I’ll be right here.”

  There was no response.

  The next two days were a blur of training. I noticed Ronnie watching me a couple of times but tried not to let her distract me. Most of the time I made it back to the ger, I passed out before she showed up. This bothered me because I wanted to enjoy my time with her. And that bothered me because I was supposed to be focusing on training. Sartre spent most of her time in Veronica’s pocket. I woke up at one point to find her sleeping next to my neck, but that was the most attention I got from her.

  The day of the Naadam, I found my uniform washed and waiting on my trunk. I wasn’t sure who to thank for that. After wrestling myself into it and shrugging on sweatpants and my deel, I headed outside to find everyone in the truck, waiting for me.

  Veronica patted the front seat in the truck next to her. Yalta’s grandsons sat in the back with him and the rest of the family. Sansar-Huu was driving. I spent the trip chewing on protein bars and while my friend told my alleged girlfriend about the scenery. My thoughts drifted to my training and the techniques Yalta had taught me in the last few days. I was so focused, I almost missed the conversation going on next to me.

  “Cy was so drunk, we found him out in the fields, curled up and sleeping with two goats.”

  Veronica laughed and looked at me. “You have an interesting taste in women.”

  “Well, I do find you attractive…” I replied, watching as her face reddened. “And that wasn’t my fault. It was my first time with airag and this bastard told me it wasn’t potent.”

  Sansar-Huu nodded. “It was interesting how those two goats followed you around for days afterward.”

  I remembered that. Coney’s concubines, they called them at the time. Nice.

  “I take it you don’t date much?” Veronica asked with a little too much interest.

  Chudruk chose that moment to pop his head through the little windows to the back of the truck. “You should see his little black book!”

  I made a mental note to exact my revenge later.

  “What little black book?” Ronnie’s eyes grew wide. Surely she wasn’t that naïve.

  Chudruk was practically bursting. “Oh, you know, the groupies. Cy has them in almost every city we hit.”

  My gut twisted at the reminder. I was hoping Veronica wouldn’t ask about that.

  “You brought that up when I interviewed you,” she started. I couldn’t decipher the look in her eyes. “Something about women with carnie fantasies?”

  This time, all three faces stared at me. I read amusement in Sansar-Huu’s and Chudruk’s faces. But Ronnie’s features had darkened. I wrestled with how much to tell her.

  “Come on, spill it,” she said unconvincingly. “It’s for my research.” She didn’t look like she really wanted to know.

  Chudruk settled himself in the window. He wasn’t going anywhere, which would make lying impossible. I sighed. There was no way out of this.

  “There are some women who have a carnie fetish.” That was simple. Maybe I could stop there. I looked around so I could distract everyone by shouting, “hey, there’s a yak” or “is that Genghis Khan?”

  “And?” Ronnie asked, biting her lip.

  “It’s usually bored, wealthy housewives. Something about having sex with a carnie turns them on.” I started slowly. She continued to stare. Okay. Fine.

  I continued. “I have a few women in some of the places we go who make sure I call them when I’m in town.”

  “And you have sex with them?”

  “Yes.”

  Veronica looked like she wanted to punch me. “So, you’re a slut.”

  I shook my head. “No, I just have a casual sex life.”

  “Why sleep with them? They are using you!”

  She was going from zero to volcanic in five seconds. “Don’t take it personally, Veronica.”

  Chudruk decided this was the time to intervene. “Cy is the most popular. He has all of his teeth and is very clean.” Oh yeah, that helped.

  “You have the perfect life, my friend.” Sansar-Huu sighed…not helping at all.

  “It’s no big deal,” I started to explain. “I only hit most of those towns once a year. And it’s not like I do it for money or anything.”

  “But they are using you!” She repeated.

  I shook my head. “I don’t see how. Seems to me I benefit from it as well.”

  If we weren’t in such tight quarters, she might have put her hands on her hips. “And how do you do that? You are just a hollow figurehead…an object of desire to them.”

  “I fail to see what is wrong with that,” I answered honestly. “I have no attachments in my life and Sartre doesn’t seem to mind. Why can’t I have sex with anyone I want to?”

  “What…what about diseases?” she sputtered.

  “Believe me, these w
omen take care of their bodies. And I always use protection.” I was starting to get a little annoyed by her anger. This was my life, wasn’t it?

  Veronica folded her arms across her chest and stared straight forward.

  Chudruk, on the other hand, didn’t shut up. “Do you still see that one blonde from California? Man, she is so hot.”

  I turned to him. “You mean Katya?” I was pissed off by Ronnie’s holier-than-thou attitude. “Yup. Saw her last year. She’s very flexible.”

  Ronnie practically screamed. “You are such a poodle!”

  This caught me off guard. I’ve been called many things in my life…from a greasy goon to a coldhearted killer. But this was new.

  “She just keeps you in her purse! On a leash!” Veronica was losing it.

  I shook my head. “Not Katya.”

  “Oh, and she’s special, huh?” Ronnie snorted.

  “No. She’s just lonely. Her husband is an orthopedic surgeon who bought her online as a mail-order bride from the Ukraine. She has a master’s degree in engineering, but no options at home, so she hooked up with a doctor and thought she could have a professional life in the U.S.”

  Veronica was very silent.

  “Unfortunately, her new husband is extremely possessive. Her bodyguards are like prison guards. Katya isn’t allowed to have a job or work.”

  “But that’s illegal!”

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you. But he’ll divorce her if she protests and her citizenship could be revoked. She’d be right back where she started, in a Soviet-style, crumbling apartment block, sharing her apartment with a family of eight.”

  Ronnie’s anger had turned into interest. “How can you see her then?”

  “She takes her niece and nephew to the circus. Her sister-in-law picks them up there, she dodges the bodyguards and I usually find her in my trailer.”

  Chudruk slid the window shut and Sansar-Huu seemed overly fascinated with his steering wheel.

  “So, without you, she’d be nothing more than a prisoner in a gilded cage,” Veronica said slowly.