by Dale Mayer
Taylor lifted his phone just then and said, “There is a bit of good news, there’s been no pings on our Ipswich hotel room.”
“Good, that’s what we like to hear,” Kanen said with a nod.
Lunch was delivered within a few minutes. She looked down at her fresh-looking pasta covered in a white sauce and fresh herbs. Somewhere in there was chicken. She ate slowly, savoring the unique flavors. But the men didn’t. They seemed to enjoy it just as much as she did, but they ate at twice the speed. And when the empty plates disappeared and came back refilled, she gasped. “You got seconds? Or did you have to reorder?”
They grinned. “She saw how hungry we were and took pity on us,” Kanen said, batting his eyelashes at Laysa.
And that set the tone for the rest of the meal. Lighthearted joking and teasing ensued, and her melancholy and confusion were swept aside in the tide of good-naturedness. It was good to have friends like this. Good to have friends who took the time to change whatever was going on into something so much better. She sat back and nibbled on her first bun as the men worked their way through their second platefuls. “What are we doing now?”
“We’re set to return to England tomorrow morning,” Kanen said. “I highly suggest we act like tourists this afternoon, take in some of the sights, stop and have some wine somewhere. It’ll be siesta time soon. A siesta is always good.”
Taylor nodded. “Exactly, but a lot of food is consumed during that time too.”
She shook her head. “No more food for me. Not until dinnertime.”
At that, they pulled out their phones and checked out the local tourist sites.
Ending the silence as they all studied the screens on their phones, she asked no one in particular, “Should we be looking for the son?”
Taylor faced her with a sad smile. “I already did. He passed away two years ago.”
She stared at him in surprise. “Really?”
He nodded. “Apparently he had cancer and didn’t make it very long.”
“So the son is not our home invader then,” she said slowly. “What about the father?”
“He’s alive and in a retirement home not very far from here,” Taylor said. “We were wondering about stopping in to see him this afternoon.”
“Is it open during siesta?”
They shrugged.
“It’s not very far away. We can always pop in and say hi, if we’re allowed,” Kanen suggested. “If not, then we can do something else.”
She nodded, took another bite of her bun and thought about the little they’d learned that morning. “Still makes you wonder who would care enough at this point to do something like this.”
“And some of those photos are of no value—not from a blackmailing viewpoint,” Nelson said. “Like Carlos said, he’s no longer in parliament. So why hang on to them? Why not just burn them?”
“Because you don’t know what could change. You just never know who might pay for something down the road, like a family member who doesn’t want Grandpa’s legacy soiled,” Kanen said quietly, a frown growing on his forehead. “What if we’re on a completely wrong track here?” He looked around the table. “What if this Joseph Carmel guy—the original blackmailer—just wants to publish a tell-all book? They seem damn popular. Everything from mommy issues to the size of some guy’s privates or details about sexual proclivities appears to be the norm. Maybe this guy is dying and wants to write a book about his life and how he blackmailed all these people.”
Silence took over their table as they shook their heads, contemplating a world where reality TV superseded movies for entertainment.
“But then who was the younger guy who broke into my apartment and beat me up?” Laysa asked.
“Could have been just an Ipswich street thug that Carmel hired online,” Nelson offered. “Wouldn’t be the first time we saw that happen.”
“Or maybe,” Laysa suggested, “Carmel’s ashamed of what he did earlier, now that he’s older, wiser. Now that the photos have been found, have resurfaced. Maybe discovered by a grandson or whoever. Maybe Joseph’s trying to keep it out of the public eye?” she said.
“Again good guesses, but that’s what they are, just guesses,” Kanen said. “We might never know for sure. We’ll talk to this Joseph and see what he has to say.”
She stared out as the hot afternoon sun rose. In her mind there were too many options, but she could remember the desperation in her captor’s voice, the anger as he beat her. As she thought about him hitting her, she thought about Blake and that temper he had obviously tried to work out in the gym. She remembered seeing the rippling of her captor’s muscles. Her words blurted out. “I think my assailant went to the gym with Blake.”
The men froze, turning to look at her.
“Why do you say that?” Nelson asked.
“He had the same hard muscled look as Blake, a similar look to the biceps and forearms. There was a real desperation in his blows. He wanted these photos in the worst way. He said it was his insurance. But who’s to say exactly what his reasoning was.”
“In which case we need to call Mark, check out who goes to Gold’s gym.”
“Especially at the same time that Blake worked out. Maybe my assailant was an old friend of Blake’s. Maybe the asshole was somebody Blake met there. Although, if that’s the case, why didn’t the guy suspect Blake kept those photos in his gym locker?”
“Because, to the other guy, these photos were incredibly valuable. And nobody but a fool would keep them in a gym locker with no real security.”
She nodded at that. “That makes a twisted kind of sense.”
They got up, paid their bill and walked back to the rental car. As they drove past Carlos’s home, she turned to look up at the old man’s house. He stood in the window, watching them. She lifted a hand in greeting as they sped past. “I wonder what he’s thinking about.”
“Maybe nothing,” Kanen said. “Wondering what kind of fools we are that we’re chasing this now.”
“Well, for me, it’s not such a long time ago,” she said quietly. “That asshole was in my place just yesterday.”
As a conversation stopper, it worked. Nobody said anything else as they drove to their hotel for their evening in Spain. Not long afterward, they all walked into their hotel suite. Two bedrooms and a central living room. Just like the guys’ London suite. She had one bedroom to herself, and the men were all jammed in the other one.
Good, she thought. The last thing she wanted was any more contact with Kanen right now. She was just tired of the unpleasantness of the whole damn investigation. She had learned disturbing things about her marriage, about her husband. Still, they found no real answers as to who her assailant was and what was his motivation, just more questions. She threw herself down on the bed and closed her eyes. Siesta was a hell of a thing. And very quickly she fell asleep.
*
Kanen paced the living room of their suite. He’d called Mark, the gym manager, twice already, getting more information about men Blake seemed to hit it off with, not to argue with. Mark had come up with two names. Both Ipswich locals.
Kanen waited for Laysa to wake up, so he could ask her about them. But instinctively he figured she wouldn’t know them or anything about them, not even their names. Blake had kept a lot of things separate from her, and this seemed like one of them. Possibly not on purpose but it appeared to be his way of having a life outside of their home and their marriage. An interesting mind-set for someone who was so invested in the marriage otherwise.
In a way it made sense because Blake wouldn’t want to be anything less than perfect in Laysa’s eyes. He had such a complex about being the biggest and the best. He was one of those guys who would never dare back down—at least not easily.
It didn’t mean he wasn’t a nice guy because he was. It didn’t mean he wasn’t generous of heart and a great worker, because again, he was. But he had definitely kept a part of his life separate from his marriage, something Laysa didn’t know about�
��until now. That ability to stay true to himself—even if just partially—must have made Blake feel good. Too bad he couldn’t share that with his own wife.
Kanen would ask Laysa what she thought. He wished he could ask Blake what it truly did for him to keep that part of his life hidden. Keeping secrets was never good within any relationship. It usually was for selfish purposes, not for the good of both parties—whether in a business relationship or in a personal relationship. If secrets were kept, it was to do something the other person would not otherwise agree to.
Kanen threw himself into the living room chair, picked up his laptop once again and researched the two men Mark had given him names for. Just then his phone rang. It was Mark again. “Did you forget somebody?”
“Yeah, I did. Somebody from a couple years back,” he said slowly. “I didn’t think about him because I haven’t seen him around in a long time. Blake was working out one day, when the guy stepped into the gym. Blake raced over and almost tackled the guy. He was so happy to see him. The other guy didn’t appear to be anywhere near as happy to see Blake, though.”
Kanen nodded. “Do you remember what this guy’s name was?”
“No, I can’t. I have hundreds of guys through here in any given year.”
“Does he have a membership?”
“No. He was a drop-in for a few months. He disappeared as suddenly as he appeared. I remember asking Blake about it once. He shrugged and said that was the kind of friend he was. He would just up and move to another part of the world. Something to do with his job, but Blake was sure the guy would drop in again. And sure enough he did. It wasn’t all that long before Blake’s death, I think,” Mark said thoughtfully. “The trouble is, my memory is pretty wonky, since I’ve seen probably a total of a thousand or so guys in this gym. It’s hard to keep track of them all.”
“Any idea how close to Blake’s death?”
“Nah, I don’t remember. But they seemed to be buds still, and then, when he took off again, I didn’t see him anymore.”
“You haven’t seen him since Blake’s death, right?”
“Nope.”
“Description?”
“Couldn’t tell ya. I see so many guys coming through here. How am I to know this one would be important years later?”
Kanen nodded. “True. Any idea if they were friends in school, friends at work?”
“They talked about one of the local boxing clubs here,” Mark said.
Kanen straightened. “Blake talked about one in particular a lot. Barney’s, wasn’t it?”
“Barney’s, yeah, that’s it. I heard Blake was really good too. Apparently they’d been in the ring together a time or two.”
“And let me guess. If Blake was super friendly with him, Blake won, right?”
Mark laughed. “I don’t know, but it might explain the guy’s expression when he saw Blake again. It was kind of a surly damn-it-what-are-you-doing-here type of look.”
Kanen chuckled. “Yeah. Blake loved to win, and, when he did, he could be a bit of an egotist and in your face about it.”
“Well, they got over it, so that’s good.” Mark cleared his throat. “You knew Blake well, didn’t you?”
“We were friends for decades,” Kanen said. “I knew the man as well as my own brother.”
“I do remember something else. The guy who came in had a big nose, got it punched a couple times. Looked like it had been broken, set, then rebroken, and all of it badly.”
“Dark skin tone?”
“Yeah, that’s him. Do you know him?”
“I remember hearing about a guy with a big nose and something weird about his muscles. Blake used to laugh about him,” Kanen said.
At that, Mark laughed. “That’s the guy then. Because Blake was mocking him when he was here too.”
After he finished on the phone, Kanen sat quietly for a long moment. Taylor and Nelson both looked at him.
“Your friend sounds like a complex character,” Nelson said quietly.
Kanen’s lips quirked. “That’s one way to describe him.”
“How does that help us now?” Taylor asked.
“I’ll contact Mason to have him check with MI6 on the facial recognition issue.” Kanen checked the time, realized it was early in the morning for Mason, but he was likely up. He dialed and waited until someone answered. Mason’s voice was gruff, growly, but awake. “Too early to call?” Kanen asked.
“Nah, I’ve been up for an hour,” Mason said. “Just haven’t had enough coffee yet.”
Kanen laughed at that. “Neither have I. It’s almost midafternoon. Doesn’t look like a whole lot more coffee is coming my way either.”
“What’d you find?”
Kanen filled him in on the old man living here in Spain and his history.
“Interesting but not really relevant.”
“No. The blackmailer’s son, Murray Carmel, is dead, so he can’t be Laysa’s assailant. Carlos’s blackmailing colleague is Joseph Carmel, and we could stop in later today to see if he remembers anything or has anything to add. He’s in an old folks’ home up here and in his nineties now. Both the blackmailer and the blackmailee retired here in Spain but have nothing to do with each other. Laysa is having a siesta. It’s been a rough day.” Kanen hesitated, then said, “Did you hear anything from MI6 about the other photos?”
“They identified two of the remaining six unknown men in the photos. One was a big businessman, and one was a politician. Both have been contacted. Both admitted they did pay blackmail way back when. But it stopped relatively quickly, and they didn’t do anything else about it. I’m sure they’re worried those photos would come back up again.”
Kanen didn’t get it. “Why go to the trouble to catch people in embarrassing moments to blackmail them and then stop abruptly? That makes no sense.”
“Exactly,” Mason said. “These two guys didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but, when it stopped, they kind of held their breaths. When nothing happened, they breathed again. They’d love to have the originals back, as they were shown copies in the first place.”
“Hopefully MI6 will give them the originals,” Kanen said. “What about the people in all the other photos?”
“Nothing MI6 was prepared to share at this time.” Mason’s tone was dry. “But you know what that’s like.”
And Kanen did know. It was all on a need-to-know basis. Generally he never needed to know. He was one of the workers, one of the guys who fought for the world and didn’t understand the orders given from the brass above.
“Will talk to MI6 when we get back from the old folks’ home.” Kanen disconnected the call and looked up to see Laysa standing in the doorway. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she looked tired. He hopped to his feet and wrapped his arms around her. “How are you doing?”
She gave him a tremulous smile. “I’m better. Still tired but how much of that is emotional, I don’t know. I forgot about the old guy Carmel. Let’s go see him now, then have dinner. An early night and an early flight would be good.”
“We can change the fights and leave tonight if you want,” Taylor said. “I doubt it would cost very much.”
Startled, she looked at him. “Really?”
He nodded. “If that’s what you want to do, we can make it happen.”
She appeared to think about it and then shrugged. “We’re in Spain, and we might as well at least enjoy one night.” She smiled at the others. “Although I might change my mind after I talk to the old guy.”
Everybody laughed.
“Before I forget …” Kanen asked her about the three men from the gym who Mark had singled out, but she shook her head.
“I don’t know any of them.”
He held out a hand. “If you’re ready to go then …”
She smiled, placed her hand in his and said, “You know me. I’ll follow you anywhere.”
As they walked out of the building and headed across town, still within walking distance, she wonder
ed at her words because she had followed Blake everywhere. Was that what she was thinking here? Was she subconsciously exchanging the two men in her mind? Because that would never do. Yet so much history was shared between her and Kanen that what she’d said made sense. It was still strange. And she kind of worried he thought something of it that she hadn’t intended. But it was hard to tell. At least her voice had been low enough that the other men hadn’t heard because that would just add to the awkwardness. Something she didn’t want.
Outside, she stopped and took a deep breath. It was a sultry, hot afternoon, but the sun was a little bit behind the clouds, giving her a breather from the dead heat.
At a good pace they headed toward the old folks’ home. “Good thing Nelson speaks Spanish. It’s benefited us before. And it may help us a lot when we get there.”
Nelson smiled. “Why, thank you, Laysa. It’s nice to be appreciated. Maybe you’ll rub off on these guys.”
That brought laughter from everyone, even Nelson.
“Leave it to Nelson to add some humor to our days,” Kanen noted.
As they approached the front entrance, she looked at the tall two-story almost-cathedral-looking building. “It’s a pretty nice place to spend your final years,” she murmured.
“Maybe,” Kanen said. “Not sure that any of these people would agree with that. It seems a far cry from the life they used to live.”
“But their lives have changed now,” she said softly. “I think most have come to accept this is where they are. Although it probably took some time to make that adjustment, ultimately I’d like to think they’re happy.”
He patted her hand. “That’s because you believe in the fairy tale,” he said. “The happily ever after.”
She frowned. “That makes me sound like I’m unrealistic or some Pollyanna,” she said. “Like I have no spunk, no spirit.”
“Not at all,” Kanen said, shaking his head. “You’re a spitfire by day—a scrappy fighter when needed—and a romantic by night. … Kind of like Blake maybe?”
