Carving Knife

by Christian, Claudia Hall

  Seth nodded.

  “You know what I think?” Dale asked.

  They turned to look at him.

  “I think he’s a slave to someone else’s whims,” Dale said.

  “Someone’s making him do this?” Fran asked.

  “Think about it,” Dale said. “Éowyn left him a couple times, and he didn’t kill her. He’s not acting out of anger or a need for revenge. He’s doing something else. I almost wonder . . .”

  Dale’s voice faded out.

  “You wonder what?” Maresol asked to encourage him.

  “I wonder if these crimes are designed to keep good detectives busy while something else goes on,” Dale said.

  “Like a murder in the middle of a hurricane.” Ava nodded. “Any ideas what?”

  “No idea,” Dale said. “And I’m probably wrong. It’s just that you see this guy as a mastermind, blah, blah . . . He doesn’t seem that way to me. He seems more like the knife and less like the person who wields the knife.”

  “That’s a marriage made in hell,” Ava said. “He likes to kill, and the other guy . . .”

  “Calls the shots,” Dale said.

  He looked around to see that everyone was nodding.

  “It’s not your dad, Ava, ’cuz he’s dead, and Davies is still killing,” Dale said.

  “We need to figure out if there’s someone else involved,” Seth said. “Because Dale’s right. Shooting a coyote thinking it’s Clara? That’s something Davies would do. But a mastermind who tricked the best minds in the country into watching him get away with murder?”

  “It’s a stretch,” Éowyn said.

  No one seemed to have anything else to add, so they packed up to leave. Fran gathered her grandchildren, and Leslie wrestled her infant from Maresol. Dale slunk off to his bedroom when Éowyn and Switch left with Clara. In his usual way, Nelson packed up his computer and gear and left without a goodbye. Bob stayed for a while to work out a plan of attack with Ava, while Maresol gathered her things.

  “Listen,” Seth said to Maresol. “I’d like it if you stayed here for a while.”

  “You would?” Maresol asked.

  Seth grinned. He had no idea why Maresol thought he didn’t want her around, but that’s what she thought. There was no convincing her otherwise.

  “I just think it’s a good idea for a while,” Seth said. “None of us should be alone.”

  “You think he’s going to come and romance me?” Maresol grinned.

  “Sure,” Seth said.

  Maresol laughed.

  “Will you stay?” Seth asked. “I can send Dale to get your cat.”

  “It’s okay. My youngest and his wife are staying there,” Maresol said. “But I can only stay for a few days. I have a life that’s not just this house, you know.”

  “I do,” Seth said.

  “You’d better catch him fast,” Maresol said.

  Maresol picked up her things and went to the first-floor bedroom suite she used. Seth smiled at her retreating form. He noticed Bob and Ava were talking at the front door. He went into the kitchen to finish the cleanup. He’d just loaded the dishwasher when Ava returned.

  “Is Maresol staying here?” Ava asked.

  “I asked her to,” Seth said.

  “Good,” Ava said. “I worry about her on her own.”

  Seth shot her a look of gratitude, and she grinned. He started the dishwasher.

  “Come on, old man,” Ava said. “Let’s go to bed.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice,” Seth said.

  He was following her out of the kitchen when the music came. There was no way to explain what happened. It had been this way since he was sitting in Sister Asella’s first-grade class all those years ago. One moment, he was in the thinking, feeling present. The next moment, his senses were filled with music. He saw notes dance in front of his eyes. He heard a full symphony rising in sound and tempo. He stopped walking.

  He felt, more than saw, Ava come to him. When she touched him, his entire body exploded with desire for her. She said his name and then gave him a cocky grin. Without saying another word, she led him to the den couch.

  He heard cloth ripping. He felt her hands on his naked flesh, and he was lost in her. He never knew how long these sessions lasted. Five minutes? Five hours? They rode the waves of the music playing in his head. Ava’s breath was fast and begging. She cried out, and then again. Her explosive release matched the timpani culminating in a crescendo deep within him.

  When he looked up, he was playing the piano in the basement. The digital recorder in his hand had been running for almost three hours. And Ava’s naked form was wrapped in one of his mother’s handmade quilts on the leather couch. He got up to add wood to the dying embers of a fire in the fireplace and lay another quilt over her.

  She grabbed his hand and gave him a quiet smile.

  “Are you coming to sleep?” Ava asked.

  “I need to check something,” Seth said.

  “You made a breakthrough on the case,” Ava said.

  “More like another question,” Seth said.

  She touched his bare chest, and he realized he was wearing only his boxer briefs. He grinned. She rolled over and went back to sleep. He went to a drawer hidden in the back wall’s mahogany paneling and put on an ancient Eastman College T-shirt and East High Angels sweatpants. He looked at Ava to make sure she was asleep before taking an untraceable cellphone out of a hidden panel in the liquor cabinet.

  “Name,” the man’s voice answered the line.

  “Magic,” Seth said. There was a tone. He said, “O’Malley.”

  There was a click while they traced the phone and matched his voice. After solving a big case for them, Seth had maintained a loose association with the US intelligence agencies and they with him. They had no problem asking him to solve their mysteries. In return, every once in a great while, he could get information available only through them.

  “Go ahead,” the voice said.

  “I need a timeline on a Vietnamese national,” Seth said.

  “Resident? Or citizen?

  “Permanent resident, last I knew. He could be a citizen now,” Seth said. “Possibly diplomatic. Location over time, but anything you have would be helpful.”

  “Name?”

  “He used to go by Liễu Chiến,” Seth said. “I’ve heard he goes by Nguyễn Làm Chinh.”

  “He’s employed by the State Department.”

  “I just need a timeline of his whereabouts from say . . . 1980 to now,” Seth said.

  “Request submitted, but I added location and activities. We’ve had our eye on this one since . . . You know a Mitch Delgado?”

  “Sure,” Seth said.

  “He registered an alert in . . . uh . . . looks like 1987. We have detailed reports on this Nguyen’s activities since that time.”

  “Including known associates?” Seth asked.

  “Of course. Would you like me to send those?”

  “Sure,” Seth said.

  “He was denied citizenship on Delgado’s recommendation.”

  “Good to know,” Seth said.

  He started to add “Thanks,” but the line was dead. He looked at the phone and set it back in the hidden compartment in the cabinet. He sat down at the piano, but realized he was too exhausted to play. Grabbing a quilt from the chest, he lay down on the rug next to Ava and fell into a sound sleep.

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  SEVENTEEN

  “Seth,” Dale’s voice came in a loud whisper.

  Seth opened his eyes a second before Dale shook his shoulder.

  “Seth.”

  “What’s going on?” Seth said in a low tone.

  “There’s a guy here,” Dale said. “Maresol found him on the porch and wouldn’t let him in the house.”

  “Where is he?” Seth asked.

  “Back patio,” Dale said. “Smoking like a chimney. Maresol is fuming.”

  Seth got up an
d followed Dale out of the room. He gently closed the door so as not to wake Ava.

  “Who is it?” Seth asked as they walked to the basement stairs.

  “No idea,” Dale said.

  “What’s he look like?” Seth asked.

  “Old guy,” Dale said. “Lot older than you. Maybe eighty? Maybe older. Crew cut. Fit. Looks mean. I’ve never seen Maresol so pissed off.”

  Seth nodded.

  “I told her she should leave the kitchen so she doesn’t have to see him,” Dale said. “She said something weird.”

  “What?” Seth stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

  “She said if there was killing to be done, she wanted to do the honors,” Dale said.

  “Shit.” Seth ran up the stairs. Maresol started yelling the moment his feet hit the first floor. “Okay. Okay. I’ll get rid of him.”

  “You’ll need this.” Maresol pulled out Seth’s handgun from under the counter. “Don’t make a big mess, and we’ll bury him in the front yard. Dale, go dig a hole.”

  Dale’s green eyes went wide with panic. Maresol nodded with all sincerity. Seth gave her a partial smile and put his hand over the weapon.

  “How ’bout if I go out and talk to him?” Seth asked. “See if he needs killing.”

  “He needs killing,” Maresol nodded.

  “Yes, but prison would be so uncomfortable,” he said. “You look horrible in jumpsuits.”

  “What are you saying?” She squinted at him.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said.

  She lifted her chin in a kind of nod, and he took the handgun from her. He made sure the safety was on before he put it into the pocket of his sweatpants. He was halfway across the den when he turned.

  “I’d love some coffee,” Seth said.

  She threw a kitchen towel at him. At the sliding glass window to the backyard, he looked at Dale.

  “Get her out of here,” Seth said.

  “Come on, Maresol,” Dale said. “Let’s go get some donuts.”

  Maresol gave Seth a soulful look and let Dale guide her out of the kitchen. Seth nodded. He stood at the door for a moment, trying to gather himself. On the other side of the glass sat Seth and Mitch’s commanding officer, Major Lark Cotton. He was the man who’d approved their transfer to the tunnel rats despite the fact that they were just barely seventeen years old. He’d dragged them out of underground firefights and shoved them into brothels. He’d served as their pastor, their hero, and their demon on the long days and nights in the tunnels of Vietnam.

  He was also the man who denied Mitch’s Agent Orange disability claim by stating they were in the tunnels, not in the jungle. Despite the photos and written testimony that the tunnels were full of the stuff, Major Cotton made sure Mitch was without medical insurance and penniless in the last months of his life. When Mitch’s wife got wind of the nearly one million dollars they needed to repay the VA, she kicked him and their two children out of their home. Maresol and Seth had scoured Denver for days until Maresol found them in a rundown hotel in Lakewood. Mitch had died eight months later.

  “Major Cotton,” Seth said. “Non gratum anus rodentum.”

  “O’Malley!” The major stood from his seat with effort. Once on his feet, he shook Seth’s extended hand with the hand that held his cigarette. “Good to see you, son.”

  “Sir,” Seth gestured to the rocking chair the major had been sitting in.

  “I see you still have the maid,” the major said.

  “Maresol, yes,” Seth said.

  “She . . .” The major glanced at Seth. Noting the look on Seth’s face, he shrugged, “Can’t teach an old dog new tricks. You always sucked with women, O’Malley.”

  “I suppose so, sir,” Seth said. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “You had to know that I’d show up,” Major Cotton said.

  “Why’s that, sir?”

  “You placed a request for information on my asset.” Major Cotton gave Seth a hard look.

  “Your asset, sir?” Seth asked.

  “Oh, good Lord,” Major Cotton said. “I forgot how you Jew boys ‘yes, sir’ me to death.”

  “Jew boys, sir?”

  Major Cotton gave Seth an irritated look.

  “Keep away from Liễu Chiến.” The major pointed at Seth. “You got no right to hassle a good man just because that re-tard Delgado thought he saw something.”

  The major stuck a fresh cigarette in his mouth. His lip went up in a sneer while his fingers lit another cigarette.

  “You done?” Seth asked.

  “Not quite,” the major said. “Liễu Chiến is a good man who, because of your prejudice, has never been able to live comfortably in the country he risked his life to help. You and Delgado have always had it out for him.”

  “Liễu Chiến is a murderer, an aberration of nature who chops up good people in their sleep.”

  “That was war, O’Malley,” the major said. “War makes people do terrible things. You weren’t exactly the tux-and-tails-guy-who-plays-for-the-Queen then either.”

  “Terrible people do terrible things, sir,” Seth said. “Only a truly horrible creature would do what Liễu Chiến did to those Rangers. They were US soldiers who were stolen from their families by Liễu Chiến.”

  “US soldiers,” the major snorted and then hacked and coughed. It was a few minutes before he was able to speak again. “You know how many US soldiers Liễu Chiến saved?”

  “Exactly one,” Seth said. “Liễu Chiến. He saved himself, and you saved him from everything else. What’s he got on you that’s made you protect him all this time?”

  “What’s that supposed to imply?” the major asked. “I’m no faggot like you and Delgado.”

  “What do you know about Brent Davies?” Seth asked.

  The major swallowed hard. For a moment, Seth thought the man might be having a stroke.

  “Who?” The major raised a cocky eyebrow in a defiant bluff.

  “I’ve heard what you came to say.” Seth stood up from his seat. “You can go.”

  “Leave Liễu Chiến out of your paranoid wet dreams.” The major attempted to jump to his feet, but old age and what looked like an injured hip slowed him down. He struggled to standing. “Liễu Chiến’s a good man who gave a lot to this country.”

  “And the platoon of Rangers he killed? Mitch? Myself?” Seth asked. “What were we?”

  “Cannon fodder,” the major sneered.

  He stalked to the garden gate.

  “Just so we’re clear,” Seth said. The major turned to look at him. “If I find out that he’s still carving up people, I’ll come for you first.”

  “Bring it,” the major said and limped out of the backyard.

  Angry, Seth sat down in his chair and tried to calm down. He glanced at the pool and wondered if he would be better off going for a swim. When the sliding glass door opened, he turned to see who was there.

  “Seth?” Ava asked.

  Seth smiled. She was holding the quilt tight around her naked body. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, and her hair was tousled by sleep. Her alert eyes scanned his face. She gave him a soft smile. In this moment, he was sure he’d never seen anything as lovely.

  “There’s a guy here,” Ava said. “One of those ‘gabacho veijos’ that drives Maresol crazy. I know I should know his name, but for the life of me . . .”

  “He just left,” Seth said.

  “Who?”

  “Major Cotton,” Seth said.

  “Oh,” Ava looked confused. “There’s a guy at the front door . . . He knows my name, but I don’t remember meeting him before.”

  Seth popped to his feet and jogged through the house. Prepared for another fight, Seth wrenched open the door. A grey-haired man wearing a fatigue jacket and a crew cut was standing with his back to the door. On the street, a young man from either Mossad or US Special Forces, with a machine gun, leaned up against a small idling limousine.

  “What . . .?” Seth sta
rted.

  The man turned around. He’d retired from the US Air Force with the rank of Major General to help build a paramilitary unit inside the US clandestine intelligence service. He held out a thick folder. Seth was so surprised that he could only gawk at the folder.

  “Cotton still here?” the man asked.

  “Just left,” Seth said.

  “You kill him?” the man asked. Seth shook his head. “Did Maresol?”

  “Got her out of the house,” Seth said.

  “You’re a good man,” the man said. “For a ‘faggot Jew boy.’”

  Seth grinned. The man nodded toward the folder.

  “My personal file. Take it,” the man said. “Has everything you need, including some interesting tidbits about Major Cotton. I’ll come get it when you’re done.”

  Seth took the folder from him, and the man started down the walkway.

  “I was never here,” the man said.

  Seth watched as the driver opened the door for the man. Before the man got in the vehicle, he turned to look at Seth.

  “Catch this guy, O’Malley,” the man said. “Do what we couldn’t.”

  The man slipped into the back of the limousine, and the driver closed the door. The driver gave Seth a long look as he went around the car. The limousine pulled away from the curb, and Seth closed the front door.

  “How are you and Mitch ‘faggot Jew boys?’” Ava asked.

  “Circumcised,” Seth said.

  “Are you okay?” Ava asked.

  “I’m angry,” Seth said. “Feel like I was pushed into a mud pit I’ve been skirting the edges of for forty years.”

  She let go of the quilt and held out her arms. He held her tight and kissed her bare neck.

  “Did you listen to the piece you played last night?” Ava asked.

  Seth shook his head and shifted back to look at her naked body.

  “Did you hear the symphony you played last night?” Ava asked.

  Seth shook his head.

  “Gorgeous,” Ava said. “It sounded like the stages of love—intense and exciting, gentle and loving, remorse-filled and melancholy. Schmidty’s going to like this one.”