The 26th Letter

by Larry Flewin

  "Sunuvabitch! You!" said a familiar face. It was strong arm from the train, the guy who’d taught me how to fly.

  I didn't wait around to see how good his aim was. I dragged what was left my dignity into the darkness and took cover behind a large rectangular headstone. For a few moments, the only sound was silence. Then I heard the familiar click of a heavy object being cocked.

  I did likewise, peering around the edge of the headstone into the inky black of the night. The lamp reappeared, held high overhead to serve as an aiming point for the gun in his hand. He was lit up like a Christmas tree, meaning the odds of him finding me in this stone maze had just jumped a whole bunch. I froze.

  I tried not to breath too loudly. The silence made every little thing sound like a cannon going off, and I'd already attracted more than enough attention for one night. Getting in here had been the easy part, but I hadn't planned on leaving just so soon.

  I held my gun up over the top of the stone and let fly with a couple shots. Where they went I don't know, but the lamp dropped as its owner hit the dirt. His return shots vanished into the night. He was looking hard for me, trying to see beyond the edge of the ring of light. It was just like the old days, send up a flare and shoot what moves.

  I did now what I had done then, hunkered down behind cover with dirt up my nose. I wasn't one for reliving the past, but every once in a while it came in handy. We both continued to squeeze a careful round at each other and duck the return fire. There were moments of silence between each set of flashes as we reloaded.

  It was a like a slow-motion western, with bullets going for a dollar each. He was good, this one, one of Michael’s better choices for hired gun. He didn't panic, make threats, or even chase the shadow that might have been me. He moved around carefully, holding the lamp high overhead with him close to the ground, gun out. He was in no hurry, and, now that I had caught my breath, neither was I. We each of us made sure of a target before firing, only to end up nailing every angel, cross, and virgin in the place. I would have said thank god for his lousy aim, but then mine wasn't all that much better. We were dancing in the dark trying to shoot each other.

  He couldn’t be too impressed right about now. A simple night job had turned into a gunfight, which wasn’t going to please the boss. He’d been discovered long before he’d found anything, which was an advantage to me. He’d have to go back now and report to Michael what had happened, leaving me Johnny-on-the-spot for a couple of hours. All I had to do was sit tight and let the night take over. It would cover me better than any shield and maybe convince him that I was gone. I holstered my piece and ducked down even lower.

  That didn’t happen. Bacon breath was a big, angry, armed bear and he showed it, prowling around the hole, letting fly at anything. Target practice went on for several rounds until I heard the click of a hammer on an empty chamber. The lamp faded off into the night as Bacon breath stumbled off into the night, clutching the lantern and cursing to beat hell.

  I was sure he’d been alone, but I waited a little just to be sure. Michael wouldn't be too thrilled with the news, but he was no fool either. Sending in more troops now would attract more attention so he’d wait until morning and hope that I’d found nothing either. We both kinda knew where the prize was now and what it was worth to other. Trouble was I could afford to wait, and he couldn't.

  Crawling around in the dark, I managed to find the hole we had been fighting over. My nose led me to it. My last coupla matches showed me why and that anything of interest had been recently covered with dirt. My curses didn’t come with a lantern, and I was out of matches, so I was going to have to do this the hard way. I had to know if there was anything in there other than embalming fluid and silk.

  Eventually the shovel scraped against wood, which was cheery news. I did what I could to clean it off but eventually I climbed in and used my hands to scoop the remainder out. The lid came up easy enough and so did the rest of my lunch. I didn’t know who it was, but he wore a nice suit, patent leather shoes, and had no face that I could feel. And he wasn’t covering up anybody’s life savings either.

  I got out and brushed myself off. That was it for the night. I wasn't giving up exactly, but I was pretty much done. All I wanted to do now was stop for a second, reload, and take a breather. A good idea when you consider that my mattress turned out to be a couple of bottles, shovels, and some food in a basket. The chicken I could smell, and by the feel of it there was bread and cheese. You wouldn't believe how hungry frisking a corpse can make you. Dinner came and went, and when the waiter didn't arrive with the cheque, I wiped my hands on my pants and headed over to the bar.

  I couldn't read the label, but his taste in booze was as good as mine, crappy. There was a quart left by the sound of it, so the night wasn't going to be a total loss. There were no smokes anywhere, at least none that I could feel. Mine were a crushed reminder never to keep them in your breast pocket, especially when you're ducking for cover. Which reminded me, I wasn't under any kind of cover. When the reinforcements arrived, sitting on my ass wasn't going to be a really good defence.

  I found something hard to lean up against, loosened my tie, and toasted whatever I could think of. I sang all the old songs and said a few of the old things to a few of the boys. They didn't have much to say which didn't surprise me They’d never been the world’s greatest talkers when they were alive so why should now be any different. They passed the night with me, but they didn't wake up with me.

  When I woke up, the world didn't seem much different. The sun was still shining, the birds were still singing, and I was still in one piece, always good to know when you sleep in a strange bed. I didn't mind being stiff and sore waiting for my brain to wake up, because it meant I was going to be around for another day.

  The slab of stone I'd slept up against was as cold as the grave I was sitting on. My butt had been kept warm by some flowers it had found, but the rest of me was screaming for a doctor, and the not the kind in a bottle. My suit was glued to my body and covered with last night’s efforts. And if that wasn’t enough, some banshee with the lungs of a sergeant major was making life miserable for everything that moved, crawled, or flew, including me.

  There was one helluva lot of yelling going on and it was coming from over there. When I pulled myself up to the top of my stone pillow and unglued my eyes, the source was a lot closer than my ears had said it was. The noise was coming from where I had been the night before mainly because of who was there.

  After a few thousand blinks what came into the picture didn’t make a whole lotta sense. Right in front of me was my angel, and there was one for each eye. I shook my head but the vision persisted, twins, absolutely perfectly matched twins. I couldn’t believe it. It was them making all the noise, and in front of a huge crowd, too.

  My old friend with the wad was there, along with my one angel or two, depending on how much I squinted, bacon breath, and some other goons that I didn't know and didn't care to meet. And Michael. A nice little group gathered around the spot I had so generously marked out for them the night before.

  Didn't they seem interested in something. I couldn't hear all the details, but it was like watching a Joe Louis fight. The two girls, and I was pretty sure now there were actually two, were going at it like cat and dog, and Michael was trying to referee. Like he had any chance in that kind of a fight. That's why I carried a gun, it was easier just to shoot them both and call it a draw.

  I edged a little closer to the action, stopping every few inches to try and shake my head clear. It wasn't working, but the pain wasn't getting any worse. The way I was feeling, it couldn't have. I wanted to know what was going on, and maybe find out why.

  "Me? What do you mean me,” screamed Angel number one. "I didn't mess this up! I was this close, this close, to getting a line on where it was when you butted in, little sister."

  "Stop calling me little, you bitch, I was only one minute later. And I didn't butt in! You were too busy playing l
ittle miss high and mighty to notice that he was playing you for a fool. He knew what you wanted, and he wasn't about to tell you. Just because wiggle your ass and blow him kisses doesn't make you Mata Hari. At least I got into his office."

  "And did you search it? No. You gave him two thousand dollars of my money and ran away. "

  "Yeah, so what. We stand to make thousands more in this deal and you're going to bitch about that? "

  "Yes, I'm going to bitch, and I have every right to. He was my uncle, too, and this was my idea. I did all the work for him, and I copied all his papers, and what did you do, just whine and whine until I let you tag along, just to shut you up."

  "That's not true and you know it. How do you think we got here, I made the contacts, and I made … “?

  "Ladies, ladies, please," said Michael, stepping in between them, arms out like he was the pope or something. "I think it's obvious that we've all been mistaken in this matter. My friend here pointed out what should have been the right spot, and we have dug as deeply as we dare. That there is nothing here is eminently disappointing I agree, but I think we should adjourn to more private quarters to discuss this matter further. Airing one’s laundry in public isn't very business-like, and we do have some unfinished business to discuss, do we not? I think the money you mentioned might be a good starting point." That was Michael all over, short and sweet, no time for goodbyes.

  What that guy did in public got people killed, so you can imagine what his private discussions were like. I'd only been involved in one of them, and he hadn't been that gentle with me either. He was as good a shot, if not better than anybody else I knew. Getting away from him with my life, and his personal nine millimetre, had been more luck than skill. He had it back now, but it had come back with a price I knew I still had to pay.

  He was standing between them now, and like a good referee, took each by the arm. I thought he was going to make them kiss and make up, until the angel on the left made a slight move to get away. Her eyes widened when she realised that his grip was tight, and that the two of them weren't going anywhere. At least not right away. The muscle behind him moved to stand a little closer. Two tough little ladies suddenly became two scared little girls with nothing more to say.

  "Ladies please, I think it's time we left," he said smiling his darkest smile. With that they were released into the care of two of his four shadows. The girls bowed their heads like the good little nuns they weren’t and left quietly with their escort close behind. They probably could have made a run for it but where would they have gone. That smile owned the town.

  "My thanks to you, my good friend”, he said turning to face the digger man. He was no fool, he didn't even wait to hear the rest of his sentence but vanished into the trees. Michael took one more look at the whole mess, shook his head, and gave a little sigh. As if he really cared about this whole situation. Regrets were not in his vocabulary.

  "What now, boss." Bacon breath broke the silence.

  "Nothing for the moment my friend, it's time we left too."

  "What about the private dick you'se been watching. You want I should, uh, deal with him."

  My ears pricked up at the mention of being dealt with. I didn't want to be just yet. I didn't think it was possible not to move a muscle and command your ears to grow, but I gave it a good try.

  He paused for a few moments, took another deep breath, and shook his head.

  "No, not today. I think we can let it go for the moment. He's no threat to us, really, but we'll talk about it after breakfast. Come, let us go." And off they went. As for me, not a hair moved until they had vanished into the early morning shadows.

  So that was it, the movie was over and everyone was going home. I didn’t believe that for a second. After what we’d all just been through there had to be more to it, Michael wasn’t one to give up just like that. We weren’t done hunting, there was more to come. In the meantime, my case had been officially closed for me by the guy who had unofficially opened it, and I was up a little less than two grand for my trouble. Not the easiest way to earn a living, but at least I still had a living I could earn. Not too many of my brothers in arms could say the same thing.

  I got up and brushed off the life I had been lying on. That's how it is as a PI, you're always brushing someone or something off, hoping it doesn't stick to you. A case was a case was a case. Solving it was one thing but getting paid was another, the big other. You don’t do this to save the world or rescue widows and orphans. You get paid, they tell you to go away, you call it a day. Done deal.

  The lump in small of my back hadn't been my liver trying to make a break for it but somebody's flowers. A big bunch of them laid carefully right in the middle of where I had been sleeping it off and I had crushed what little life had been left out of them. Now I had annoyed everybody.

  You know what they say. You can lift your leg on almost anybody except the man upstairs. Do that and you’ll find out how long your lifeline really is. I'm not real religious or anything, but there were some things that even I thought twice about. My first sin had been the grave bacon breath and I had fought over. This was the second.

  The name on the headstone was no big deal. Leastwise it was a name I didn't recognise, and it didn’t start with a zee. I had no idea what his life had been like but the last thing he needed was some big ape like me stomping all over him and his flowers. Somebody had cared and recently. Even though they'd spent the night jammed into my backside, they still gave off a last gasp of freshness when I picked them up. I pitched my bottle, bunched the flowers all back together again and put them near the head of the grave. His little slab of life was no different from the thousands of others in the area, and I was determined to leave him that way. The least I could do was to clean my life off his.

  Now, any good PI will tell you're supposed to wrap these things up all neat and tidy, stuff it in a folder, and file it away. In case the cops ever have an interest, or you are dumb enough to pay your taxes. Me, I never made notes about anyone or anything, I'm lucky if I can remember my own name some days. I preferred the mental approach, it was quick and easy, and I could do it standing up straight or lying face down.

  I had cash, the cross, Michael was gone for the moment, and an office to set to rights, nothing to bend, fold, or file. The way I saw it there were two kinds of PI's, the quick and the dead. The dead did it by the numbers, taking the time to bend and fold all the facts into a file they could sell for cash, or give to a lawyer. The quick got the job done hard and fast, the way it was supposed to be. And the fewer questions the better because there was never any time, you were usually dodging a bullet or ducking a fist.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Right from the start this hunt had not been my idea. No one asked if I wanted in or told me what my role was. I’d pushed around, shot at, and run through my paces like a rabbit at the racetrack, front man for a bunch of treasure hunters too busy fighting with each other to pay attention to their rabbit. So, when the rabbit had started to run, they found themselves almost too far behind to catch up. And what did it get any of them in the end but a hole in the ground. The wrong one.

  All that mental filing could wait for another day, I was going home. It was time for a hot shower and a shave at the Y, another clean shirt from Mrs. Chen, and then crawl like a dog to get back into Stella’s good graces. Even with all my charm, and cash, she was still cheesed my latest case had involved her and her home sweet home. I'd be lucky if crawling would be low enough, her coffee was that good.

  They say everything come in threes. Good luck, bad luck, or just plain no luck at all. The way I figured it, the twins had never had a chance from the beginning. They had a good idea and it just might have worked, but this kind of thing isn't for dames. Especially those two young bloods with no more sense than god gave a fly.

  It didn’t take a genius to see that those two had put this together all by themselves and done it badly. They knew something about the supposed treasure, and who
the owner might be, but they had managed to convince Michael that they did. That he bought into the whole cockamamie scheme was surprise enough, without them thinking beyond that to share it with him or steal from him outright. He didn’t share, and as for stealing from him, well, that took guts and I had yet to see anything stronger than a taste for fine fashion from either one.

  It had been one mistake after another, not the least of which was to get me involved. No doubt Michael had a few more grey hairs from that. The girl’s first mistake was their choice of travelling companion. No doubt they had heard of him through his contacts with the old world, and that should have stopped them right then and there. If you're that far away, and you still hear about the guy, how good can that be. They say news travels fast and bad news even faster. Those two should have known better, or at least asked around a little.

  Their second mistake had been their eagerness. Dames were like, no finesse, no sense of fair play, and no patience. In a game like this you have to have a really good poker face, make your move at the last second, and then run like hell. Those two made their first move soon as they hooked up with Michael. He was a guy who didn't like to lose, didn't lose very often, and sure as hell didn't like being hustled. Those two had ants in their pants from the start, going behind each other’s back, and not keeping Michael up to date. It had taken him a while but once he’d figured it all out, they were done like dinner.

  The last one was on him alone. Me. He probably figured I owed him, which is why I had been volunteered to do the legwork for their little enterprise. A little dough to get my attention, a little leg to get me started, and a coupla bullets to keep me moving. No time to stop and think or ask any dumb questions. And then pop the last question right between my eyes when I'd reached Eldorado. There was going to be more than conversation and typing when they got back to the office. I was done for the day, but they were just getting started.