A Thousand Tombs

by Molly Greene

  “Did I say how beautiful you are tonight?”

  She smiled at him. Yes, he had told her, but she’d never get tired of hearing it. He was good that way, noticing and complimenting. But then, he was good in a lot of ways. Her cheeks flushed.

  The waitress returned and offered Mack a pretty little black leather book. “I’ll give you a minute,” she said, and took off again to serve another table.

  Then the piano player arrived, and Mack was on his feet. They grinned like what they were, long-time buddies pleased to see one another. They clasped fists and leaned in until their shoulders touched. Mack looked happy when he unloosed his friend and reached to touch Gen’s shoulder.

  “Shiloh James, meet my girlfriend, Genevieve Delacourt. She prefers Gen, but her friends call her Genny.”

  “Beautiful Genny.” Shiloh took her hand and stared openly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And you, as well.”

  He took a chair and wasn’t in it longer than ten seconds before their server set a tall glass of something amber and bubbly in front of him. Bourbon and soda.

  “Thanks, Trudy.” He took a long pull.

  Gen thoughts spiraled back to her own whiskey-laced days. She didn’t miss them, and she no longer needed the stress release that came with the booze. Thank God for small favors.

  “We’ll have a bottle of the Mayacamas Cabernet, please,” Mack told Trudy, and she gave him a thumbs up and turned toward the bar.

  Shiloh took another pull on his glass, then set it down. “I think we were in high school the last time I heard Mack call anyone his girlfriend.” He studied Gen thoughtfully, then morphed from serous into a mischievous grin that revealed a dimple in his right cheek.

  Gen shot Mack an appraising glance. “Really?”

  Shiloh nodded. “He tells me you’re special. One look at you and I can see part of the reason why.” He drew on the drink again and kept staring.

  Gen wondered what he saw, besides the dark red dress that clung to her curvy body. She never knew how to respond to a comment like that. Do you just say thank you, or simply assume they were being polite? She decided changing the subject was safest.

  “Is Shiloh your real name?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I was the first son, so the family tradition landed on me.”

  “I like it,” she said.

  He tipped his head in an acknowledgement, a little bow that served as a gracious thank you. Maybe she should learn to do that when someone gave her a compliment.

  “Shiloh got us a lot of dates back in Franklin,” Mack said. “The girls used to flock around when he sang and played that dang harmonica. I usually ended up holding hands with whoever he didn’t want.”

  Gen imagined what he’d said was true. She studied Mack again. To her eyes, his choirboy good looks rendered him more handsome than his friend, but in a much more understated way. Mack was down-to-earth and real. He didn’t lack any of the elements of attraction, but at the same time he didn’t ooze charm and he couldn’t play an instrument and croon like Shiloh James. That alone would probably have shoved him into second place with a sixteen-year-old.

  She tightened her grasp on his hand and his eyes slid to her and held her gaze. His expression told her nobody else mattered until now, and she gave it back.

  “You two have got it bad, my man.” Shiloh’s voice was low and throaty and held an edginess that sounded almost jealous. No, not envy; yearning. He wanted what they had.

  Gen liked him for it.

  Mack’s gaze went to the piano man and he started to speak but hesitated, then finally just said, “I think we both feel lucky,” and left it at that. Emotions weren’t something guys talked about in public, not unless it had something to do with football.

  Trudy came back with the bottle and two glasses and showed the label to Mack, then stuck in a corkscrew and popped it. She poured a finger of wine into his glass and waited while Mack had a taste. He didn’t make a big deal of it, just inhaled over the rim and sipped and nodded for her to continue.

  She poured a half glass for each of them. Mack and Gen both thanked her, and she put the bottle in the center of the table and left.

  “Are you guys the house band?” Gen asked.

  “Sort of,” Shiloh replied. “We play here every Saturday night, sometimes Fridays, other places the rest of the week. It’s a great gig. Jazz is making a comeback and the crowd here likes us.”

  “Jazz is your bread and butter?”

  “Jazz pays the bills, blues feeds the soul, country makes the heart flutter, and rock gets the blood pumping.” He sounded amused.

  And so did Mack when he replied, “He can play it all. Shy, remember that club down in San Antonio? Those cowboys almost beat your butt for making their sweethearts swoon.”

  “It happens.”

  When Shiloh’s eyes drifted and his lids lowered, Gen followed his gaze. A languid smile played around his lips. He was watching a woman approach, and Gen knew she meant something to him.

  The woman was striking, one of those fiftyish ladies who could get away with letting their hair turn silver and look ravishing. It waved to her shoulders, thick and rich and with the kind of body supermodels achieved with the help of a stylist.

  She was slim and toned, maybe a size six, something Gen would never be and didn’t lose sleep over. A string of diamonds glittered above the cleavage of her form-fitting dress, and the creamy skin of her neck and face were unlined. Botox, maybe. Regardless of the help she did or didn’t have, Gen could see she took good care of herself.

  Shiloh stood before she reached the table, and Mack rose with him. Gen still wasn’t used to the Southern gentleman treatment, and now here there were two of them. It made for double the confusion.

  “My goodness,” the woman murmured. “Please, have a seat.”

  “Julie.” Shiloh moved to draw out the remaining empty chair. “This is my old friend Mackenzie Hackett and his girlfriend, Genny. Mack and Genny, Julie Russell. Julie owns The Cosmo Club.”

  “It’s a pleasure, ma’am,” Mack said. Gen repeated his greeting without the ma’am part. The men waited for Julie to sit, then followed suit.

  “It’s heady, all this chivalry,” Julie said to Gen. Then her eyes flicked to Shiloh, and Gen got the impression she was looking at something she thought was hers.

  So that was it. They were lovers.

  “Makes my head spin sometimes,” Gen replied. “I’m used to men from Cali who think the epitome of charming is coming to the door to pick you up.”

  Julie laughed. “How’s the Mayacamas?”

  “Delicious,” she replied.

  “I’m not an expert,” Mack said, “but you’ve got a great wine list.”

  “Thank you for noticing,” she replied. “I worked hard to develop it. Great wine, fabulous music, beautiful people. It all keeps the doors open.”

  From the looks of the place, the till was overflowing. Julie must make great bank on her business. Gen recognized a few of the exclusive labels that peppered the tables around them. Although its name was more a nod to the famous vodka drink, it appeared that Cosmo sold a lot of expensive grape.

  “So you and Shiloh go way back,” Julie said to Mack.

  “Yes, ma’am, to junior high. We both ended up in detention often enough we got to talking.”

  “What was he like?”

  Mack contemplated Shiloh, and he was serious as he examined the other man’s face. “The same,” he finally replied. “Smart. Talented. The best friend a man could have. He’s had my back more than once when I needed it, and a couple times when I didn’t even know I did.”

  Shiloh drained his bourbon, then stood and raised his glass to catch Trudy’s eye for a refill. “Time for me to get back to work. Genny, it was good to meet you. I’m honored Mack let it happen, he’s been keeping you to himself. We’ll take a longer break in an hour or so and we can talk more.”

  He squeezed Mack’s shoulder, gave Gen and Julie a little demi-bow,
and headed for the stage. The other musicians were already there, gearing up for another set.

  “He’s really great,” Gen said.

  “Yes, he is.” Julie watched Shiloh stroll away, then turned back to them. “So what do you do for a living, Mack?”

  “I’m a detective with the SFPD.”

  Julie’s eyebrows arched. She tilted her head and gave Genny a face full of concern. “You must worry about him.”

  Gen shrugged. “He probably worries more about me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Genny is a private investigator,” Mack replied.

  “Really? That’s a coincidence.”

  “How so?” Gen asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about calling someone.”

  Both of them were looking at Julie, waiting for her to elaborate.

  “I have a bit of a mystery playing out here,” she said. “No dead bodies, nothing major. It’s the case of the disappearing empties. We pour a lot of wine, and our expensive bottles are going missing.”

  “Sounds like the customers taking souvenirs,” Mack said.

  Julie shook her head. “Our clientele wouldn’t be caught dead getting excited about collecting labels. It’s not their style. I have no idea how or why they’re vanishing, but they are.”

  “Is it a problem?” Gen asked.

  “Only as far as the fact that there’s something going on at my business I don’t know about,” Julie replied. “First the empty bottles, then the full ones? You see what I mean.”

  “And you’re sure it’s not an employee,” Mack said.

  “I’m not certain about anything, but I’ve asked them and they say no. They’ve no reason to lie. None I’ve discovered, at any rate.”

  “How can you tell they’re gone?” Gen asked.

  “We re-pack the bottles into the original cases,” Julie said. “Just the stock above a particular price point. It’s a simple visual inventory method I like to use. I can see at a glance what’s selling best without looking at a spreadsheet, and it’s obvious if a full bottle has gone missing from the back room, if you get my drift.

  “I’ve compared the paper records and I can see the wine is being sold, but the empties aren’t making it back into their cases. ” She looked at Gen. “It’s not exactly a horrendous crime, but something isn’t right. Would you like to look into it for me?”

  “It would be my pleasure, if you’re sure you want to.”

  “I’d like to know what’s happening.”

  “Give me a call when you’re ready and we’ll talk.” Gen got a card from her purse and slid it across the table. “You’ll want references. I can provide a few names.”

  “Is she good, Mack?”

  “Yes ma’am, she is.”

  “That’s all I need to know.” Julie picked up the card. “I’ll call you.” She looked to the stage and back. “I’d ask that you not mention this discussion to Shiloh, or anyone who works for me. Does Shiloh know what you do, Genny?”

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Would you feel awkward keeping it from him?”

  Gen looked at Mack, asking if that would create a problem for him. When he shook his head, Gen replied, “If it comes up, it doesn’t mean I need to add you or Cosmo to the conversation.”

  “Good. If you’re sure it wouldn’t place you in an uncomfortable position, I’d prefer it. I think it best none of my people know. Mack, can I also ask for your discretion in this?”

  “Of course.”

  Julie stood then, and Mack rose with her. “It was a pleasure to meet you both. You’re welcome here anytime. Genny, I’ll call next week. And now, I have to excuse myself and mingle.”

  “Miss Russell.”

  “Sit down, Mack, and enjoy your evening. That bottle is on me.”

  She turned away toward the bank of booths along the wall. The quartet was in the middle of a Dave Brubeck tune, and a handful of couples were on the floor. Shiloh’s vocals brought a few more to their feet to join the dancing.

  “Wow,” Gen said.

  “Wow what?” Mack sat down and took her hand again.

  “I like him a lot.”

  “Everybody does.”

  “I can imagine,” Gen replied. “He’s got that oh-so charming bad boy thing going on. Women love that. They make an interesting couple.”

  “Couple?”

  Gen looked at him. “Yeah.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Oh come on, Mack. Those two are gettin’ busy.”

  “Is it women’s intuition tells you that?”

  “I don’t need intuition. You don’t have your detective hat on tonight.”

  “I never wear it around Shy.”

  “Why?”

  “He was my best friend growing up. I don’t need to know more than that.”

  Which meant he didn’t want to know more. Gen knew how much Mack valued loyalty, so she wasn’t surprised. “Has Shiloh ever done anything you were ashamed of?”

  She was teasing, but his features morphed to ice and his cop face took over. “I plead the fifth.” Meaning Shiloh had. “You planning to work with Julie on this bottle thing?”

  “If she calls,” Gen replied. “Any reason you wouldn’t want me to?”

  Mack looked thoughtful for a minute, like there was but he didn’t want to say it. He didn’t like to tell her what to do, she knew that for a fact. “I hope not.”

  “Look,” Gen said. “I’m sorry, but the mood just got too heavy for date night. So I’ll say one more thing and then I’ll let it go. Shiloh is none of my business, but if you weren’t watching, you didn’t see the way she looked at him.” Gen waggled her eyebrows. “Like he belonged to her.”

  He shrugged and the mask cracked away with the movement, leaving behind the man who only had eyes for her. “No, I didn’t see it, but I wouldn’t be surprised. Shy’s been climbing in or out of somebody’s bed since he was fifteen.”

  He was silent for two beats, then, “Is that the way I look at you?”

  “No.” Gen leaned into him and whispered, “You look at me like we belong together. There’s a difference, you know?”

  Their eyes locked.

  “Yes,” Mack said. “There is.”

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