by Andrew Grey
Jules sat on the sofa, the iPad propped up on his knees, playing away. Nigel wasn’t about, so Garrett tried to enter the bedroom but found the door locked.
Garrett sat at the end of the sofa, catching Jules’s attention. “Do you want to go with us?”
“To skewer my uncle?” Jules grinned and set down the iPad. “You bet. I want to watch him squirm like a bait fish.” He actually rubbed his hands together.
Nigel came out of the room and joined them.
“Here’s what’s happening. I’m going to run down to the lobby to the shop there so I can get some fresh clothes. I won’t be long. Then I’m going to dress, and we’re going to confront your uncle.”
“Can’t the lawyer do that?” Nigel asked.
“Man,” Jules groaned. “I want to see the old bastard squirm after what he did to us.” He sat up, and Garrett suppressed a grin as Nigel’s lips drew into a straight line.
“You could have the lawyers do it, but the fastest way is for you to press your claim directly. I’m going to be with you, and so are agents Carver and Jenkins, as well as others. I need both of you to be dressed and ready when I get back, and don’t answer the phone or open the door to anyone other than me or the agents. Bolt it on the inside. Okay?” He ruffled Jules’s hair, got up, and hugged Nigel before kissing him.
“Do you really have to do that where I can see it?” Jules groused. He was most definitely going to be a handful and was becoming a more typical teenager by the hour. “I’m happy for both of you, though.”
Garrett reluctantly released Nigel and hurried for the door.
EVEN THOUGH the penthouse was only a block away from the hotel, they’d taken a car in the interest of safety. Then they lingered in its plush seats, going over the plan one last time.
Phyllis had asked to come as well. The agents had balked, but Jules wanted her along.
They entered the building with Carver and Jenkins following behind.
“May I help you?” the doorman asked from behind the art deco masterpiece of a reception desk. The entire lobby was a study in the art form’s splendor, with marble mosaics on the floor and continuing to the walls. It was stunning to say the least.
“We need to access the penthouse,” Nigel answered the graying doorman, who looked to be in his midfifties or so.
“I’m sorry, but that’s private.”
Nigel shifted his weight nervously. “Yes, I know. We used to ride up and down in the private elevator when we were children.” He smiled and then leaned forward. “Charlie? I remember you. I’m Nigel.”
Charlie’s face lit like it was Christmas morning. “My goodness, it’s good to see you!” He came from around the desk, grinning before shaking Nigel’s hand. “It’s been quite a while. I hope you did well in school. Your uncle said you were doing well, whenever I asked.”
Nigel tensed even more.
“Nigel and Jules would like to go up to see their uncle,” Garrett explained.
“I’ll call and tell him.” Charlie picked up the phone.
“No,” Jenkins said forcefully.
“I have to. Only the owner can authorize access,” Charlie said, without putting down the phone.
“In that case, that’s me. I own the penthouse. Not my uncle. In fact, he has been living here illegally for a year and a half. So, Charlie, you are not to alert my uncle, and please call the elevator so we can go up and pay him a visit.”
Damn, Nigel was forceful, and it was awesome to see. And a damned turn-on.
“Are you sure?” Charlie asked.
“Yes. You will not get in any trouble. These men here are with the FBI, and they can make sure of that.”
Two more agents entered the building, taking control of the lobby. Charlie stood out of the way as the private elevator at the very back of the lobby opened and the six of them got inside. Nigel pressed the button for the penthouse, and the doors closed and they began to rise.
Jules held Phyllis’s hand as they went. He stayed silent as anticipation and nervousness filled the elevator car.
They stepped out into a gorgeous small gold-and-white lobby with a door directly across from the elevators and one to the side.
“That’s for the maid and other staff,” Nigel said as he looked around and then pointed at the door. “I remember that.” He bent to a mark in the corner. “That’s where you drew on the stone with magic marker. Mom was so mad, and they tried their best to get it out.” He smiled at Jules. Then Nigel knocked firmly on the door and waited. When it didn’t open, he knocked again, this time half pounding.
Footsteps thumped on the other side and finally the door opened. “What do you think—” A man in his late fifties, undone tie around his neck, glared at them. “How did you get up here? Never mind. Get back in the elevator or there will be hell to pay.” Fire burned in his eyes, and he started to shut the door.
“Uncle Hilliard. I’m Nigel, and this is Jules.” He pressed right inside, and Garrett followed. “I have claimed my inheritance, and part of it is this penthouse. Since this is my property, I’m here to move in.” He smiled. “Oh, and I brought some friends with me in case you cause trouble.” So far things were going exactly as planned.
“Boys, it’s good to see you.” There was no warmth in his voice at all. “I’ll gladly leave, if you give me a little time to move out.”
“Actually, you’ve had eighteen months, and since this is my apartment, these men are going to help you leave. Gentlemen, since this is my house, you may go wherever you like.”
“Excuse me?” Hilliard said, puffing out his chest. “They aren’t going anywhere.”
“Yes, they are.” Nigel was magnificent, standing up to his uncle without batting an eyelash. “See, these men are from the FBI, and since I am the property owner and you have lived here illegally for the last year and a half while you held Jules and me prisoner on the island, I’m granting them permission to look anywhere they like and search at will. Gentlemen.” Nigel waved magnanimously, and Carver and Jenkins stepped inside. “The penthouse is yours. Go wherever you like.”
“I’m calling my lawyer,” Hilliard said.
“Good,” Garrett told him. “You’re going to need one.” He stood next to Nigel as Carver made a phone call. Soon the elevator disgorged another six agents, and they fanned out into the penthouse.
“Stay out of my private—”
“Nothing is private when you’re living somewhere illegally,” Garrett interrupted. “You held Jules and Nigel away so you could keep control of their parents’ money.”
“I did no such thing!” Hilliard countered. “I took care of them and gave them an upbringing in an environment where they could be themselves.”
Phyllis, who had stayed in the hallway, stepped through the door. “Do you want to try again, Mr. Montague?” She glared at Hilliard with such hatred, Garrett could feel it. “I’ve already told the police everything you’ve done and what you paid Fairfield and me to do. So you can stop the lying. The picture is clear.” She smacked Hilliard across the face with enough force to send him reeling. “You total bastard.”
“You’re just as guilty,” he countered.
“I didn’t try to have them killed,” she said, kneeing him in the groin and sending Hilliard to his knees. Then she whirled around and went to the outer hall, standing near the door.
“Mr. Hilliard Montague, I am hereby notifying you that all your personal assets have been frozen by the FBI pending investigation into their source. You are welcome to contact them to determine when the funds will be released, but all bank accounts and holdings are now under their control.” Carver smiled, and Garrett swore wisps of smoke might have floated out of Hilliard’s ears.
“Stay out of there,” Hilliard demanded as the agents pushed open the door to what was obviously an office. “Those are my personal things.”
“And it’s my room,” Nigel countered. “They are welcome to go anywhere.”
Garrett wanted to laugh, but he held it tog
ether and stayed close to Nigel and Jules in case Hilliard tried anything.
“At least let me get some of my things if you’re going to kick me out.” Without waiting for permission, he strode down the hallway to the room at the very end and slammed the door.
A pair of agents followed him down the hall. Before they made it halfway, the bedroom door burst open again and Hilliard came out, carrying a gun in each hand. The agents reached for their guns, but Hilliard shot point-blank before they could get them out. He continued down the hall, rounding on Nigel.
Garrett tugged him out of the way and stepped back to the entrance hall. He grabbed Jules and got him around the corner. “Call the elevator and get the hell out of here,” he told both of them, shoving them toward it. The doors slid open, and Garrett practically pushed both of them into the lobby, then turned away to stop Hilliard from reaching them.
“Take it easy,” Carver said as Hilliard held a gun at both him and Garrett. “Put the guns down. It isn’t too late.”
But Hilliard was cornered, which was when he’d be at his most dangerous.
He stood still and Garrett could tell he was thinking, trying to figure a way out of this. “You put your guns down. I’m in control here.” He glanced around, clearly looking for his way out. Thankfully the boys were out of harm’s way and couldn’t be used by their uncle for leverage. He took a step back, still holding them at gunpoint. Hilliard was cool, and Garrett figured he had something else up his sleeve.
This guy was off his rocker. Garrett wished he had a weapon, but it would do him no good, as demonstrated by Carver slowly placing his gun on the floor.
“Why did you do it?” Garrett asked to get Hilliard talking. “The boys were eleven and three when their parents died in the accident you arranged. There was no need to send them off anywhere.” He glanced around, movement near the edge of the hallway door catching his attention. Dammit—Phyllis. He should have made sure she was with the boys, but there hadn’t been time.
“Little shits. They were all supposed to have been in that car. They were supposed to go on a family trip.” Hilliard curled his lip upward. “Then Giles and Marlie got that damned invitation and decided to go to the benefit. Do you have any idea how long it took to arrange for that fucking accident? That night was fucking perfect, and I could have gotten rid of the whole mess of them.” He glanced at Carver. “Now have the others lie down on the floor, or so help me, I’ll blow both your brains out.”
“Guys…,” Carver said, and some of the agents lay down, but others stayed where they were.
“Now!” Hilliard’s hands shook, and Garrett saw his finger tighten. He dropped to the ground as the gun pointed at him went off.
“No!” Nigel raced toward him and threw himself on top of Garrett.
Two more shots sounded in rapid succession, then a third, and all was silent. Garrett lifted his head, hoping to hell one of those shots hadn’t hit Nigel.
“You okay?” he whispered, and Nigel’s weight lifted. Garrett turned to see Hilliard lying on the floor, bleeding from his shoulder onto the white marble. An agent had a bead on him and was already calling for emergency care. Phyllis was splayed on the floor, and Nigel knelt by her side.
“Garrett,” Nigel said urgently, helplessly cradling Phyllis’s head in his arms. “Why did you do that?” he asked her, cradling her head in his arms. “You ran out and saved me.”
“I owed you so much. You and Jules deserve a chance at happiness.” She coughed, blood sliding down the sides of her mouth. “Promise me that you won’t think badly of me.”
Nigel rocked slowly back and forth as Phyllis’s eyes drifted closed and her chest stilled.
“Nigel,” Garrett said softly.
Nigel placed her head on the floor and backed away. Garrett held him off to the side while the others moved around them in the room. Ambulance workers came and took Hilliard away. The coroner took Phyllis, and then there were questions and statements…. Garrett was familiar with the routine, but it was still difficult, especially on Nigel.
“Let’s go back to the hotel. The police are going to need some time here, and they can go through everything in the house.”
“Yeah.” Nigel got shakily to his feet, and they rode down in the elevator and found Jules waiting in the lobby.
“It’s over, Jules. Uncle Hilliard is going to jail. He shot Phyllis.”
“Is she going to be okay?” Jules asked, and Nigel shook his head. “Oh.”
Nigel hugged his brother. “She saved me and Garrett.” He swallowed, and they stood together, holding each other. “Phyllis asked us not to think badly of her.” Nigel closed his eyes, and Garrett let the two boys comfort each other.
“Do you want to go back to the hotel?” Garrett asked after a bit.
Nigel nodded, and Garrett led them out of the building and down the street. At least now they could walk out in the open, and the fresh air seemed to do both of them good. They were quiet but less shaken by the time they rode up to the room, and Garrett ordered lunch with plenty of comfort food, including cookies, ice cream, and macaroni and cheese.
“What do we do now?” Jules asked.
“They’ll take care of everything in the penthouse, and then we’ll have it cleaned and you can move in there if you want. I know it might be hard, and if you don’t care to, that’s fine. You could sell it.”
Nigel shook his head. “No. That place is our only link with Mom and Dad, and who knows, there may be things of theirs inside somewhere.”
“But….” Jules seemed a little lost. “Aunt Phyllis….” He stopped and blinked, and Garrett wished he could take all this ache and hurt away.
“Why don’t we have lunch and then I’ll take you to see some of the city?” He figured a walk in Central Park with its trees and open spaces might help them. But the more he thought about it, the more simplistic and stupid that sounded. Nigel and Jules needed the familiar.
His phone rang, and Garrett pulled it out of his pocket, going to the windows to speak more privately. “Hey, captain.”
“How did it go?” he asked, and Garrett flicked his gaze to Nigel. Jules sat nervously, his game next to him. “Wreckley….”
Garrett sighed as Nigel stood near the wall. “It was a disaster. Two agents were shot, but they were wearing vests, so other than some bruising, they were okay. Phyllis was shot, and unfortunately the wounds were fatal.” Garrett sighed. “She took the bullet for Nigel and me.”
“What about the uncle?”
“He’s in custody. His assets are frozen, and Nigel will be working with a lawyer to help identify his next steps. Basically, Hilliard isn’t going anywhere for a long time. Not after killing Phyllis in cold blood and admitting he had his brother and sister-in-law killed.” Garrett tried to relax a little but was completely unsettled.
“That’s good. Not that anyone was hurt, but that he’s in custody and the boys are safe.” The captain sighed. “So what I need to know is when you’re coming back to work.”
Garrett paused, then held out his hand to Nigel, who hurried over to him. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “Nigel needs me here, and….” He took a deep breath. “I don’t think I like being a police officer anymore.” There, he’d said it. “The more I think about it, the more I realize that when I come back, I’m going to end up in the same place I was when I left. And I don’t want that. I need to make a change.” Garrett braced for the captain to yell or give him shit.
Instead he chuckled. “Sounds like you found something more important than just work.” The last thing Garrett had expected was for the captain to understand. “You still have time left on your vacation. Take it, think about what you want, and we’ll talk then.”
Garrett thanked him, hung up the phone, and slid it back into his pocket. He rejoined the boys, sitting on the sofa, and explained that he’d just given his notice to his captain.
“You’re going to stay?” Nigel asked.
“Yes. I don’t want to go back t
o the life I had.” Garrett took a deep breath to quell the nerves that threatened to rise. “It wasn’t a real life.” He put an arm around Nigel and tugged him closer. “But I am going to need to get a job.”
“Why?” Nigel asked with a shrug.
“Because I’m not going to live off your money. I can support myself and my family. And I will.” Garrett wasn’t a freeloader. He wanted to do something productive. “But all that can be figured out later.”
“You always say that,” Nigel said. “Why not figure it out now?”
Garrett chuckled. Nigel knew how to make him happy. “Because I need to think about it.” He turned away from the window and sat on the love seat against the side wall. “I used to think that being a police officer was who I was. David always told me that I was more than that, but I didn’t listen. Now I think he was right.” At the very least, being a cop didn’t hold the appeal it once did, and now that the pressure was gone, he knew he didn’t want it back.
“You could become a private detective like Sam Spade,” Nigel offered. “Wear those cool hats and a trench coat, looking for the Maltese Falcon or maybe treasure.” Nigel grinned and sat down next to him. “Or you could stay here and just be with me.” He put his arms around Garrett’s waist and leaned on his shoulder.
“I couldn’t do only that.” Hell, Garrett had choices now that he could have only dreamed of. The ability to do whatever he wanted. That could be a dream come true in itself. “But I’ll figure it out.”
Sometimes things had a way of making themselves clear.
THEY SPENT much of the day talking. Garrett listened a lot and let the guys vent and work through the journey they had been on. He thought at some point they might want professional help, but they weren’t ready for that. Nigel and Jules had to be given the chance to grieve for the life they’d thought they had, for Phyllis, and even in a way, for their parents. Garrett determined that he would tell them about their uncle and their parents, but not at the moment. They had enough on their plates right now… but he’d do it soon.
