“What do we do with all our spare time?” Vivian muttered, entering the elevator after Merlin, cursing herself for letting an infatuation damn her into this ridiculous enterprise. “Can you take my memory away, old man?”
“Sadly, that door is closed, Vivian.” Merlin grinned at Lancelot having to duck into the elevator. “You will become more assimilated as the months go by just as I’m sure Lancelot has done. It took me some time to become accustomed to these times.”
“You were never in Heaven, you moron.”
“Will you please, for God’s sake, quit whining?” Lancelot cut her off angrily. “You asked him a question and he answered. Deal with it.”
“Fuck you, Monte!”
“You already have, Viv,” Lancelot grinned. “I see it was so good that you gave up Heaven to be with me again. Lancelot, ready for duty, babe.”
“In your dreams, Knight-Boy,” but it was Vivian who again looked away. An unwelcome warmth spread unchecked through her body, as human desire betrayed the once-powerful nephillim yet again.
Merlin closed his eyes with a sigh of acceptance. I hope you find us entertaining, my Lord, he prayed silently.
Lancelot spotted the squad car a few doors down from his house, and very deliberately opened his garage without another glance at the police vehicle. He parked the Pontiac inside, and closed the garage door. The three uneasy comrades entered the house. Merlin walked to the center of Lancelot’s living room with his hands raised, murmuring indecipherable chants. After a moment of stillness, he lowered his hands and joined Lancelot and Vivian in the kitchen. Lancelot was already heating a frying pan, while beating eggs in a bowl with a little milk. Vivian readied a fresh pot of coffee. Neither of his companions looked away from their tasks as Merlin entered the kitchen.
“It’s all clear,” Merlin announced, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs.
“I’m making scrambled eggs,” Lancelot said, looking over at Merlin. “Do you want sausage or bacon with them?”
“Bacon sounds good to me. I hope the police will give us time to enjoy the meal. I see you have rye bread. May I have some rye toast with the eggs?”
“Sure.” Lancelot placed four pieces of rye bread in his toaster. “Orange juice?”
The three had almost finished their late breakfast when the doorbell rang. Lancelot wiped his hands on the napkin near him and stood up to answer the door. He looked through the wide-angled peep hole to see Detectives Robinson and Nielson on his doorstep, backed up by two other uniformed officers. Lancelot pulled open the door.
“Hello, officers,” Lancelot greeted them politely.
“We need to talk with you, Benwick,” Nielson said. “Can we come in?”
“Sure. We just finished breakfast, and there’s coffee left. Want some?”
“I’ll have a cup,” Robinson agreed, turning to the uniformed police. “Stay by the door, guys. I don’t think we’ll need you inside.”
Robinson and Nielson followed Lancelot into the kitchen, where Vivian had cleaned off the table. She and Merlin were sipping coffee when Lancelot led his visitors in. Lancelot poured coffee for the two men, and set their cups down at two open spots, gesturing for them to take a seat. He added more coffee to his almost empty cup while the two detectives sat down. Robinson nodded at Vivian while looking over the dapper Merlin with interest. Lancelot sat down with his coffee next to Vivian, so that they faced the two detectives. Merlin sat at an angle that enabled him to glance at each pair.
“Did the DA change his mind about charging Vivian’s attackers?” Lancelot asked, sipping his coffee calmly.
“No. Actually, that won’t be necessary any longer,” Robinson answered. “Before I go on, may I ask who this gentleman is? We have rather confidential business to discuss.”
“I’m their employer, detective.” Merlin handed Robinson a card from his inside suit coat pocket. “I interviewed them this morning for my firm.”
“Charles Merlin Associates,” Robinson said out loud, and then handed the card to his partner. “You’re the guy who bought the building on Clay Street. Is your firm representing these two?”
“They work for me now. Do they need my representation?” Merlin asked with just the right amount of curiosity. “I’m hiring Mr. Benwick because of his language expertise and military background. Ms. Camlann will assist him in a secretarial slot.”
“How long have you been with them this morning?” Nielson answered Merlin’s original question with yet another question.
“We met at about seven this morning,” Merlin replied.
“Where were you before that, Benwick?” Nielson asked, turning to Lancelot.
“Home in bed,” Lancelot stated. “Ms. Camlann and I retired early after all the ruckus yesterday…to separate rooms.”
“So, you weren’t with Mr. Benwick in person last night, Ms. Camlann?” Robinson continued his partner’s questions.
“We slept in separate rooms. Why?”
“Four of the gang-bangers, including the leader, and three men we’ve tentatively identified as hired killers, were found dead this morning outside the leader’s house,” Robinson explained. “None of them had been shot. They were killed by hand.”
“Sounds like good news to me.” Vivian smiled happily, her words featuring a slight nasal component owing to her injured nose. “What does it have to do with us?”
Robinson gestured at Lancelot casually, while meeting Vivian’s eyes. “Mr. Benwick here is the only man we can think of in the area who could have done it. We’ve found out from the Marine Corps that he’s an expert at unarmed combat – a master at nearly every martial art known. It would be complete idiocy for us not to suspect him.”
“You think I killed four gang-bangers and three professional hitmen last night?” Lancelot asked rhetorically with an easy laugh. “I’m even better than I thought. Tell me, Detective Robinson, do I look as if I’ve done mortal combat with seven men?”
Lancelot stood up, showing the detectives his hands, lifting his shirt to show that he was uninjured, and turning around to repeat his deception. The detectives traded a look of consternation.
“You’ll have to return to the station with us, and give fingerprint and DNA samples, Mr. Benwick,” Robinson said finally. “Will you take a polygraph test?”
“I-”
“Just a minute, Detective Robinson,” Merlin interrupted, locking eyes with Lancelot for a moment. “It doesn’t sound as if it would be in my employee’s best interest to go with you.”
“I thought you weren’t his lawyer,” Nielson retorted.
“I am now.” Merlin’s tone took on more of an official sound. “Mr. Benwick explained what happened yesterday at this morning’s interview, and Ms. Camlann backed his story. I was most perturbed to know that the police department and DA’s office in Oakland made deals to free gang-bangers, while throwing victims out on the streets as bait.”
“Now wait a…” Nielson began angrily.
“It would be in Mr. Benwick’s best interest to cooperate if he hasn’t done anything,” Robinson interrupted his partner.
“I’ll go along, Mr. Merlin,” Lancelot announced, finishing his coffee. “There’s no use in putting off the inevitable, and maybe I can get this cleared up before we’re due to pick up your grandson. Vivian and I will take care of Arthur, Mr. Merlin’s grandson, as part of our duties.”
“Very well,” Merlin nodded. “Call me if these unfortunate accusations get out of hand.”
“Shall I follow you guys, or do you have to take me in?” Lancelot asked.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to drive you,” Robinson replied apologetically. “Could we have your permission to take a look around your house and grounds before we leave?”
“I must protest this…” Merlin began, only to have Lancelot break in at the proper time.
“Sure, look around,” Lancelot told them.
“Thanks,” Robinson said, standing up. “I’ll need our two uniforms outside to help u
s. Will that be okay?”
“I’ll let them in,” Lancelot agreed, leaving the table, and heading for the entrance of the house.
Chapter Nine: Young Arthur
Moments later, the two uniformed policemen joined the group in Lancelot’s kitchen. Nielson took one of the men with him upstairs, while Robinson and the other policeman went into the garage.
“Why the hell didn’t you let the old man throw this bunch out?” Vivian asked Lancelot, her voice so condescending that it was as if she were interrogating a five-year-old.
“They won’t find anything, Vivian,” Merlin answered for Lancelot. “Because of my protesting and Lancelot’s agreeable allowances, the police will be less likely to try and fit Lancelot into whatever theory they have.”
“Merlin, did your cleansing spell work on the secured safe-room upstairs?” Lancelot asked, ignoring Vivian’s question.
“Every human trace has been wiped away from this entire structure, and everything in it. The spell, as you call it, is not selective. They may find it odd if they check for fingerprints. Even yours have been erased. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“Good.” Lancelot stood up and walked over into the garage, where he encountered Robinson going through his Pontiac Grand Prix, while the uniformed officer searched the garage area. “Detective Robinson?”
“Yeah?” Robinson looked up from where he had been searching through the Pontiac’s glove compartment.
“My house has a hidden safe-room, and I didn’t want you to get the idea that I was hiding it from you. It’s up in the bedroom Ms. Camlann was using. Shall I take you through it, too?”
“A safe-room? I guess I should go up with you,” Robinson allowed, shifting his bulk out of the Pontiac’s passenger seat.
While Lancelot led the way upstairs, Robinson watched the noncommittal attitude of his suspect. He took a chance at Lancelot’s giving something away.
“Did the folder help?” Robinson asked.
“If I were as good as you think I am,” Lancelot drawled, glancing back at Robinson as they neared the stair landing, “I surely wouldn’t launch into some effusive praise for your folder. It is gratifying to know that the OPD is so concerned for thugs and hit-men. Too bad the department wasn’t as concerned when a gang attacked an innocent victim outside a bus station.”
“You’re cute, Benwick, but this gig only fits one guy,” Robinson fired back. “I didn’t give you the folder so you could execute seven men.”
“What exactly did you give me the folder for?” Lancelot faced Robinson at the top of the stairs. “The up-and-coming murder capitol of the West Coast just gained seven more unsolved murders. It looks like the DA won’t like this outcome, either.”
“Small doubt about that.” Robinson smiled up into Lancelot’s dour face. “I don’t know how you did it, but I know you did it. Something tells me these deaths will probably go unsolved, just as you say.”
Lancelot shrugged, and turned to lead the way into the bedroom in which Vivian had slept. He uncovered the hidden doorway within the walk-in closet.
“What the hell is this?” Nielson asked, having followed Lancelot and Robinson into the room. “Hey…this is one of those rooms where you dive inside and the bad guys can’t get you.”
“Yeah, only the seven guys we’re interested in didn’t have a safe-room,” Robinson noted, as Lancelot opened the armored door.
“Nice,” Nielson commented. As he walked into the room, the lights came on. He checked out the bank of monitors. “I don’t suppose you have tapes of activity within the house from last night do you, Benwick?”
“I haven’t taped anything since moving in,” Lancelot answered truthfully. “You’re welcome to look around, though. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
Robinson and Nielson glared at each other after Lancelot left. Robinson shook his head, and wandered around the room.
“It didn’t exactly blow over, did it, Deke?”
“Who knows? We’ll get him down at the station. He’s already waived his right to an attorney right in front of that Merlin guy,” Nielson replied, turning on the monitors, and trying out the computer controls.
Lancelot was joining Vivian and Merlin in the kitchen when Nielson started zooming the camera in and out. He turned up the sound, but the three were just sitting at the table drinking coffee. Nielson tried aiming at just Merlin, and zooming in as close as the camera would allow. Abruptly, Merlin looked up and stared directly into the camera. Robinson found his partner in the same position moments later, when he had completed the room-sweep for anything out of place or suspicious.
“Hey, Deke, what the hell are you staring at?” Robinson shook his partner by the shoulder.
“Huh?” Nielson looked up blankly at Robinson, as if he had been asleep. “Shit…I must have zoned out. Sorry, Ed.”
“C’mon, let’s take Benwick downtown, and see if we can get any closer to what really happened to those guys.”
“Didn’t I hear that you have an informant?” Nielson asked, following Robinson out of the room.
“Yeah. He says that the hierarchy doesn’t know what the hell happened. They replaced the leader ten minutes after the van and house were found to be full of dead people. My guy told me the gang got the message, and the message is don’t fuck with Benwick. One of the guys from the bus station yesterday took over the crew. He said he’d kill the first guy who screws around with our buddy downstairs.”
“It sounds as if it’s all worked out, to me,” Nielson said with some irritation. “What the hell are we doing here, then?”
“As Benwick so aptly pointed out, we just got seven more unsolved homicides. If we act as if we’re covering up for a killer, it’ll be you and me facing charges. The DA will try and pin this crap on us anyway, so we need to do things by the book until further notice.”
“You mean after Benwick, we trot out the usual suspects?” Nielson grinned.
“Well, let’s put it this way. We’re going to get the runaround on both sides of this. We should take the opportunity to achieve some collateral damage during our investigation. We might be able to nail a few suspects who may not be involved in the killings, but are involved in unscrupulous acts, which get turned up inadvertently.”
“It sounds so ‘Law and Order’ when you put it like that,” Nielson remarked. “There is the question left of whether those imported killers have anyone who’ll be interested in their untimely demise.”
“For their sakes, they better cut their losses, just as the gang-bangers decided to do.”
* * *
Merlin and Vivian waited in Lancelot’s Pontiac in front of the police station. They had been waiting only five minutes when Lancelot walked out of the station. He spotted them right away. A minute later, he opened Vivian’s door, and she went around to the passenger side without a word. Lancelot took her place, and started the Pontiac. He looked back at Merlin.
“Is it time yet to pick up Arthur?”
“We have forty-five minutes until school lets out. Vivian inserted the address into your GPS thingy,” Merlin answered, as Lancelot glanced at the GPS screen. “How did it go?”
“As well as can be expected. They can suspect all they want, but there ain’t a hell of a lot they can do about it, unless I confess. I passed the polygraph test, and that pissed them off. After that, their lieutenant made Robinson let me go. Robinson confided to me that the gang has moved on, and they took my message to heart. The hit-men may have people who’ll want to do a freebie follow-up, but I doubt that they will. If they do, they’ll only come after me. Have you noticed any sign of Arthur in the boy, Merlin?”
“Not really,” Merlin answered thoughtfully. “He shows little of the overdeveloped sense of conscience I tried to bully out of him the last time through. He was so naïve back in those days that I just wanted to slap him.” Merlin sighed deeply, leaning against his seat.
“You should have seen this one back at the beginning.” Laughing, Vivian
gestured at Lancelot. “He was adorable.”
“So.” Lancelot glanced over at Vivian long enough to make her regret the spiteful outburst she had voiced. “When did I get over my innocence, Viv? The first time you seduced me and begged for more?”
“Shut up, Monte!” Vivian lashed back angrily, the reminder of Lancelot’s remembrance triggering an intense rush of warmth and wetness. “I was just making polite conversation.”
“As was I,” Lancelot added with a smile.
Merlin cleared his throat. “If I may ask, what is this Monte business?”
LANCELOT Page 11
