Crooked

by Bronwen John

  “But why? Why would he warn you?”

  Esther smirked. “That’s another tale for another night. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some ruminating, meditating and sleep to catch up on. As I said, best bedroom is by there. Good morning, goodnight.”

  And with that she exited, leaving more questions than answers in her wake.

  Five

  Ash saw very little of Esther Crook over the following two days, during which she seemed deep in contemplation, playing hands of solitaire. She’d then disappear out onto the fjord, walking with her hands in her pockets and looking thoughtfully into the distance. She’d been put onto learning her cold reading in the restaurant, both to prove Esther wrong and to improve her own skills. Ash also continued to hone her own skills in the art of pick pocketing.

  Esther arrived back on the second day to find a decent haul on her kitchen table, at which she flashed one of her characteristic smirks. “An excellent haul,” she noted, sitting down. “Been thinking it over, your proposition…”

  “You mean the con? I mean, you told me you had an idea?”

  “More than an idea; a perfect one… But there’s one problem,” she said, pointing at Ash. “And that’s you.”

  “Me?!”

  “And Colorado. I don’t feel safe enough, little rainmaker, because of who Holmes is.”

  “What sort of excuse is that?! I’m telling you I want to do it, and you’re saying—”

  “You know so little about him.” Esther sighed and patted the seat next to her. Ash joined her. “The man won’t kill you. He’ll probably sell you to the highest bidder or stick you in a brothel. He has five in London alone, which, as of yet, have galled the international agencies for being near impossible to break.”

  “I’m willing to take the hit,” Ash offered.

  “I have no doubt. The graveyards in the Old West are full of young men and women who were willing to take a hit for the glory and old frontier justice.” Esther patted her hand. “Plus, I have to deal with the fact that you’re a foster kid. They’re probably searching for you after the death of Luke. They’ll want to know what he was up to. How’d he die? Bad news travels fast, but detail, not so much.”

  “Threw himself in front of a Tube train to stop them getting to me; cause chaos.”

  “Left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is expecting… he was a con man right up until the end,” Esther said quietly. She leaned back in her seat and considered. “He planned for you to be away?”

  “From the night I left, yes… I just left without my clothes.”

  “That at least is believable,” Esther sighed, and twisted her dark hair over her shoulder. “This will have to go. Cut it shorter – do me a favour, kid, and look me up some actresses with boy cuts.”

  Ash went to her phone and began pulling up images of actresses. “You do know you’re… what? Twenty-five?”

  “Au contraire; I’m as old as my teeth and as young as my head – all of twenty,” Esther said thoughtfully. “I’m in.”

  “Wait, you’re kidding?” Ash asked, spinning to face her. “You’re in?! After two days of doing nothing?”

  “Different time zones, friend,” Esther said, with a small smile as Ash handed her the phone. “One thing about the long con is that you have to have patience and a good crew… and I must say, the students of the long con, you and Colorado, will be most fortunate.”

  “Patience? I think I’m going into the wrong line of work,” Ash hissed.

  “Relax, friend.” Esther huffed as she stood up, and fiddled with her long, dark hair again. “Things are going to come together, and after tomorrow you’ll be learning more about the long con than you ever wanted to know.”

  “How long before we get to him? Get to the bare bones of it?” Ash asked, scowling.

  “You really hate him, don’t you?” Esther smirked. “I’ve got somebody new for your pal Colorado to meet tomorrow.”

  A confused look.

  “I do remember my promise to take him on… but then my own plans changed so I sent him to Rodney. Now they’ve changed yet again, I asked Rodney to release him. I’m putting him with a very old friend of mine by the name of Gregory Mathias LeRoy, affectionately known as Mattie to myself, and by various other names.” She rubbed the back of her neck before walking to the cabinet by the fireplace and withdrawing a silver card holder from within. “Now, please do remember that the doors and windows remain locked whilst I am not here. If anyone should ring, they will use the name Annie. Not that I expect anyone. And if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with the tourist board and the local police. Don’t expect me come morning.”

  Harry Holmes straightened his tie as he exited the interview room. He smirked at the frustrated look on the face of DCI Rebecca Banks. She’d been chasing his tail for years, especially in the light of the murder of that persistent agent from Interpol.

  “You do realise that the ravings of a lunatic have no bearing on a suicidal moment?” snapped his latest associate, Ezra Innocent, as he stood by the doorway, watching the proceedings with one overlarge bodyguard who didn’t interrupt the American with the smooth Southern accent. “Heaving him in here when clearly the man had suicidal tendencies?”

  “It’s all right, Ez.”

  Ezra glared, and Holmes winced. Ezra Innocent despised any abbreviation of his name, and had once punched one of his underlings for committing this offence. Holmes had watched the man go down like a lump of gold, as a glimpse of a smile ghosted across Ezra’s face and, with an apology, he returned to his poker game like nothing had happened.

  “Ezra, I should say. DCI Banks is only doing her job. After all, that poor man killed himself so dramatically, and calling out my name. I do hope you find those dear girls too.”

  He grinned to himself. Ezra had taken one the previous day, apparently for some ‘friends’ to have fun with. His men had already done some beatings but not too much – after all, people paid less for damaged goods.

  “That is my intent,” DCI Banks said darkly. She looked at Ezra with barely contained contempt. “And you should find better friends, Mr—”

  “Innocent, my dear lady,” he said politely. He opened his mouth to say more, but was interrupted by the beep of his phone. He shook his head. “My apologies. I have been awaiting this for days.” He walked out of the police station, flanked by his bodyguards.

  Holmes watched him go, before smirking at Banks. “Banks. I hope we don’t meet again too soon.”

  She offered a glare, and he chuckled as he walked out down the corridor, snapping his fingers at Hughes.

  “What happened to the black kid? Any news on her?”

  A quick, sharp shake of the head from Hughes, as he followed his boss with staccato steps, reaching into his pocket. “No. Kid’s vanished. No trace. Hunted, although I do believe Gaines was in contact with Crook.”

  That stopped him. “Think he’s sent her to Crook?”

  Hughes shook his head. “Not sure. The Lawrence kid didn’t talk. I’ll take care of this one personally.”

  “You could include that Crook girl.”

  “I won’t chase her, sir. Ezra’s boy is on her; best they have.” He sighed. “When’s Mr Innocent taking you to his guns?”

  “When he’s ready. He wants to make sure of us.”

  “He’s been doing that for near enough five years,” Hughes said, pausing to catch his breath as they spied Innocent pacing outside.

  “I’m of the same mind as him: keep your friends closer than your enemies.” Holmes smirked nastily, before walking outside to join his associate. He was glaring at his phone. “Problems?”

  “Daughter in the States,” Ezra offered. “The darling girl seems to be under the mighty suspect conclusion that I do not wish for her to have any fun.”

  “You never mentioned you had a daughter,” Holmes said,
surprised.

  It was true. Ezra had been a guest at many meals and events hosted by Holmes and his family. Holmes had put emphasis on his family and their importance.

  “I don’t mix my business with… family matters,” Ezra said quietly. “I think it’d be easier if we moved things forward slightly. We do, after all, have that poker tournament. High-stakes poker games are always relaxing.”

  “Whoa, Ezra, my friend,” Holmes said, raising his hand as Ezra began to pace towards his car. “We must make arrangements to meet your darling daughter. You wore the gold band for show.”

  “My wife’s dead. So yes, Harry it is just for ‘show’. My daughter and I share an intermittent relationship due to this.” Ezra took a deep breath. “I may as well have buried my daughter with her mother. It was shortly before I met you. Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I have more immediate concerns right now.”

  “How did she… er… die?” Hughes asked, too late for Holmes to stop him.

  Once more Ezra paused and then quirked his head back to Holmes’s lieutenant, disdain filtering through his green eyes. “Not that it matters to a second-rate nimrod like you, Mr Hughes, but my wife died in a shooting thanks to my business… associations, as I would like to say.” He climbed into his car. “The Delaney Hotel, thank you.”

  “One more question, Mr Innocent… what’s the interest in Esther Crook?”

  “The shoot-out my wife got caught up in was the result of Esther Crook’s mother, Anne Crook’s, activities. Her father has Esther well hidden, but when I get to her, your foreplay last night will seem like a day in paradise. Au revoir, gentleman and understudy.”

  “Rise and shine, my little lotus blossom.”

  The next morning, the shutters of Ash’s room were torn open and the bright early morning sun burst through. She sat up sharply and rubbed her eyes.

  “What the—”

  “It’s all come together, kid. Need to catch the early flight into Oslo for some decent clothes for you two, but we’ll get it without a hitch.”

  “Wait, you gussying me up?” Ash asked, rubbing her eyes and finding an amused glint in Esther’s green ones. “Hold on.”

  “You know, in The Sting? There is this fantastic fruity named Rag in the background, where you see all the con artists coming together? Imagine that music because this is it. Now get your ass up before you really piss me off and I go after him alone.”

  “Wait, what?” Ash called, jumping out of bed and running behind Esther. “You’ve been away two days and you expect me to be up and at ’em?”

  “Precisely; Luke said you weren’t thick. Now move your ass.”

  Esther explained, as she laid out her playing cards that she seemed to have eternally stashed in her pocket, that there would be four others joining her to train Ash and Colorado in the scam, as well as helping her organise it. Wyatt Trammel, Christopher Adams, Buck Singleton and Eleanor Hyde – the truth be told, the names meant very little to con-artistry aficionado Ash. But then, the best con artists in the modern world were the ones you heard whispers about, and the masters were the ones you hadn’t heard of.

  After a three-hour drive to the regional airport and an hour’s flight to the capital of Oslo, Ash felt ready to throttle someone. But Esther was nothing if not an excellent poker player, happily engaging in a friendly game with Ash, although Ash sensed that she was just being played, especially when she won more than a few of the games that Esther had set out.

  When they arrived in the city, Esther had called a taxi and immediately headed to a large building where she made herself comfortable and began to reign supreme. They were now in a narrow dressmakers and tailor’s shop staffed by two individuals: Johan, who was fitting Ash now, and Bill, whom Esther had embraced tightly and who was making her a cup of tea.

  “Make sure she has at least nine evening gowns, and I mean at least,” Esther said as she sat in the dressing room, reading a newspaper, while Ash was fitted. “And make sure that they walk the line between simple and eye-catching. Think you can hook it up in one night?”

  “Hey, if I can get Jo Osborne his kit done for Franco’s gig, you know I’ll do it.” The younger man handed Esther her cup of tea. “How should I take payment? Favour owed, dinner in a nice restaurant, percentage…?”

  “Flat rate, Bill.”

  The words hung in the air, and Ash paused in pulling her boobs into a more flattering position as a sudden realisation washed over her.

  Esther Crook wasn’t expecting to walk out of this con alive.

  Six

  Any thought of returning to London was ruined when Esther had gone out of the room, phone in hand and speaking in clear, short sentences –some littered with French and others in plain English. The tinkle of the shop bell indicated that she had left.

  “How long you known her?” Ash asked Bill when she stepped back out of the changing room, dressed again in her casual jeans and T-shirt.

  “Since we were sixteen,” Bill replied, with a fond grin and taking the chosen items of clothing to one side.

  “Is she as good as they say?”

  Bill threw a glance at Ash. “Better. She’s something like royalty in our line of work.”

  Ash offered a grin. “Have any tells?”

  “Yeah. When she’s telling the truth she’s lying to you”

  Ash shot him a confused look as Esther returned indoors.

  “Ash was just asking if you have any tells.”

  “Yeah, bull ones. Come on. My associates have arrived.” Esther pulled at her shirt. “Do you still have my measurements?”

  “No need to measure you again, Es,” the man assured her in his calming tone of voice.

  His colleague, however, was not so calm. “Es, I expect to see you here to pay me.”

  “Now, now, Johan, no need for dramatics. You know me.” She offered a smirk that only seemed to make him hug her. “I promise when this is over, I’ll visit.”

  “Don’t make a con promise.”

  “Can’t con an honest man,” she said softly. “You can only con with conviction.” The two shared a soft, if sad, laugh before a steely resolve came over them. “I’ll send each of them to collect it.”

  “And yourself?”

  “Eleanor will come in with the details,” she said quietly. “We’ve got the gist of the plan, but this involves fancy footwork to say the least.”

  “Just need to explain and get everyone on board?”

  A tight nod in return. “Brother, you don’t know how right you are.” She tipped her head to him raising her fingers to an imaginary hat in a salute, before she and Ash exited the shop and strode towards a taxi.

  “The Magnificent Hotel, please. Honestly, people have no taste. Chaos. Good name for a hotel. Or Hudra – like the siren of the Norwegian shores.”

  “Perhaps it’ll live up to its expectations?” Ash said.

  Esther smirked.

  The Magnificent lived up to its appellation, standing as a huge red-brick building in the centre of Oslo, with a smart drive scattered with selected big-name cars. Esther merely rolled her eyes at Ash’s surprised look.

  “How can we afford this?” Ash asked quietly.

  “We can’t,” Esther said, walking confidently up to the receptionist. She waited for the woman to raise her head before speaking again. “Hello, I’m Esther Lambert, Interpol.” She flashed a badge with a smirk.

  The young woman nodded.

  “Me and my associates have booked a room; I believe Mr Adams is arranging it?”

  Another tense nod, a quick gesture to the computer screen, a surreptitious putting of card keys into an outstretched hand, and Esther thanked her, jerking her head for Ash to follow her to the stairs.

  “At the risk of sounding like an idiot, did you just pretend that you’re an Interpol agent? You know, the International Police?”
r />   “Nervous, already?” Esther smirked.

  “Yeah… well, we’re kind of international criminals now. And we’re winding them up?” Ash stopped on the stairs.

  “As good as any Swiss clock,” Esther stated, fixing her with a green-eyed glare. “You ever been fingerprinted, bar entering or exiting a country?”

  “No.”

  A flash of that annoying ingratiating smirk again before Esther returned to her walk and her gaze back up the stairs. “Then don’t concern yourself.”

  “You genuinely enjoy this, don’t you?”

  Esther’s green-eyed gaze didn’t waver a jot from her focus up the stairs. “Our world isn’t theirs. They are grey and we are Technicolor in their eyes, until we wash it away. It’s a behind-the-scenes, wink-and-you’ll-miss-it world. It’s not built on the humdrum; it’s built on adrenaline and the knowledge that, if everything is done right, we get away. If we don’t, then it means we are not very good con artists. We border with the good, the bad and the goddamn ugly. Now move it. I know of one very annoyed gentleman who’ll be yelling if I make him miss his lunch.”

  “Esther, get your ass up here before the pizza goes cold,” boomed a deep voice from a floor above. Esther broke into a grin and hurried up the last few steps so she could see the tall man holding the door open for the two on the correct floor.

  “There he is… still treated as a kid, Buck?” she returned, smirking. “Am I that blatantly obvious?”

  “You’re a whole mess of tells to those of us that know,” the man replied, heading back indoors. “Pizza is free game now, Esther.”

  Esther shook her head, shoulders shaking in silent laughter as they headed upstairs, falling into an easy step together. They soon came to the allocated floor, silent and slipping down the corridor as light as feathers. Esther walked up to the door and knocked three times. It opened immediately to reveal the twinkling brown eyes and smiling face of a tall, moustached man. Without more ado, he offered Esther a hug.