The Gypsy Queen: A Matt Preston Novel (Matt Preston Series Book 3)

by Paul Shadinger

  I couldn’t help it, I wondered what was going on.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  I gathered my stuff and then slipped out the side door. It wasn’t that I was still in fear of ol’ Davy, but I could see no reason to accidently put myself in harm’s way. I got to my truck and as I started to open the door, I looked up. Bullwinkle was standing on the other side. I assumed he had been hiding someplace waiting for me to come along. I quickly shut the door to keep Beanie inside. Bullwinkle still possessed those skills at moving without anybody hearing a thing. Looking across the roof of my truck at me, he snarled, “Open the fucking doors and get in, I want to talk to you and I don’t like standing here in the open.”

  I liked the idea of having the truck between us more than he disliked the idea of standing out in the open, and I told him, “I can’t think of a thing we need to discuss where we need to be in my truck. What do you want?”

  He scowled at me, thought for a moment and then growled, “Why are you in Seattle?”

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “I asked you what are you doing in Seattle?”

  “I happen to live here.” I found it was all I could do not to call him Bullwinkle.

  I could tell he wasn’t buying my story as he snarled back at me. “Yeah sure. For how long?”

  “All my life.” I retorted. “Born and raised, except for time overseas. And what are you doing in Seattle?”

  My answer took him by surprise and he didn’t try to hide it. “Really?” I nodded. “Actually, it’s none of your business why I’m here, but I knew somebody else from this area and I was looking for him.”

  I interrupted, “Do you mean Heyward Hollis?”

  His eyes narrowed and his voice was a sneer. “I wondered. So, you do know Hollis. How do you know him?”

  “We met back in country. I met him and Dennis Price just there at the end when things were falling apart, and one time I mentioned I was from Seattle, and the Puget Sound area. He told me he’d grown up on one of the islands.”

  “Have you seen him since you got back?” Bullwinkle queried.

  The hair started to stand up on my neck and I wondered just how much I wanted to share with Bullwinkle. I’d had a problem with Hayward Hollis and it ended with the two of us having a gunfight. I told Bullwinkle, “Like I said, I just knew he was from the Puget Sound area and I don’t exactly know where. I haven’t seen him since we all left Nam.”

  “Do you know how I might find him?”

  This question to me meant Bullwinkle had no idea Hollis was dead. I decided it might be in my best interest to end this conversation as quickly as possible while giving up as little information as possible. “Like I said, I haven’t seen him since Nam. Have you tried any of the veterans groups?”

  “Naw. What about your buddy at the Pentagon? Some high-ranking fellow?”

  “I haven’t seen, or spoken to him in years. I don’t even have an address for him.” Another lie! God I hoped he couldn’t tell I was lying my ass off.

  Finally, Bullwinkle turned and walked away with Beanie giving him a sharp bark. I noticed when I got in the truck my shirt was wet with sweat and my hands were trembling. Bullwinkle was just as frightening now as he had been out on that mission.

  I would have liked to have known what his conversation had been with Davidson, but I also knew there was no way I was going to ask either one of them! I sure wished it was easier to get to Walter. Right about now I’d have liked to have been able to share with him what I’d just witnessed and ask his opinion on what he thought was going on. I’d seen Bullwinkle kill people in cold blood back in country without any remorse. I also knew that Davidson had been as black ops as you could get and through the grapevine I’d heard several stories about outrageous things he had done.

  I remembered Walter had been assigned a couple of missions with Davidson and I thought there was a four-man team one time which included Walter, Hollis and Price along with Davidson. I vividly recalled Davidson going ballistic when he found out how Hollis and Price did the big nasty together. I’d just seen two individuals from my past I would have been more than happy to have lived the rest of my life without seeing again.

  “Oh Walter,” I thought, “I wonder if there’s any room on your lovely mountaintop for me? Things here do not look very good!” First Bullwinkle, and then Davidson. The only thing worse would be to learn that Hollis wasn’t actually dead. I knew that was impossible, but I still shuddered at the thought.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  I’d just returned with Beanie from our nightly outing and as I was passing through the kitchen I heard my answering machine demanding my attention. I went over and punched the replay button. I had one message. “Beep. Hello. Preston, this is Davidson. Please call me,” He rattled off a number and ended with, “I need to chat with you. Thanks.” I pushed replay and listened once more. I checked my machine and made sure the number he had called me from matched the number he had given me to return the call. Another reason I listened to the message again was I wasn’t sure I had really heard him say Please and thanks. Back in the day those were two words that were not in his vocabulary. I wondered for a moment if I really wanted to return his call since our last meeting back in Viet Nam had turned out so poorly.

  I called anyway. On the second ring the phone was answered. “Preston?”

  “What do you want, Davidson?” I wasn’t going to waste any pleasantries with this cat. My memories of him were not good ones. We both were going straight to the point.

  “What were you and Otto Niles talking about yesterday?” He barked.

  I paused for a moment as I wondered what was he talking about. “What are you talking about? I don’t even know an Otto Niles.” I had no clue.

  “Oh, bullshit! I saw the two of you talking together yesterday next to your truck after I saw you in the Starbucks.”

  I thought a moment and then realized who he meant. “Oh, you mean Bullwinkle.”

  There was a moment of silence and then he grumbled, “Who the fuck is Bullwinkle?”

  I laughed a little as I explained to him, “Sorry. That’s was a nickname back in Nam for the person I was talking to.”

  There was a slight pause and then he asked, “Okay, what were you and,” he paused a moment and I heard amusement in his voice as he continued, “Bullwinkle talking about?”

  “He asked me what I was doing in Seattle and I told him.”

  “And, what are you doing in Seattle?” Davidson asked.

  “Basically, it’s really is none of your business. However, Davy, I live here.”

  “Oh.” Long pause. “By the way, I would prefer you not call me Davy. Nothing else you discussed with Bullwinkle?”

  “He also wanted to know if I’d seen Heyward Hollis lately.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  I could hear the exasperation in his voice. “Have you seen Hollis lately?”

  I thought for a moment just how much I wanted to share. Finally, I told him, “Hollis is dead.”

  Silence. Deep breath and I heard him let it out slowly. “What?”

  “Hollis is dead. As in deceased. Pushing up daises.”

  “When?”

  “Somewhere around three years ago.”

  “That’s impossible,” he snapped at me.

  “Excuse me? Why is it impossible?” I asked.

  “Did you know the guy everybody called Snooker back in country?”

  I knew who he meant. The fellow’s real name was Tom Frost. Tom got his nickname from playing pool. Not from playing the game snooker, but from getting people to play him a game of real pool, as in they got snookered into playing him. He was an amazing trick shot artist. Most of the guys I knew in the service would never play him. They all knew better. As I recalled, his record was running the table thirty something times. “I know who Snooker is
, why?”

  “Snooker saw him less than a month ago.”

  Before I even had a chance to think the words popped out of my mouth, “That’s impossible.”

  “Why do you say that?” he shot back.

  Oh shit, I was stuck. I didn’t want to tell anybody that I had killed him. “I have a friend on the Seattle Police Force and my friend was there when they brought Hollis’ body in. Sorry, but Snooker is mistaken.”

  He paused for a moment. “Are you positive?” I could tell from his voice that what I was telling him wasn’t something he wanted to hear.

  “As sure I as I can be. There was a positive ID. A good chunk of his brain was missing and everything. Why did you want to see Hollis anyway?”

  “He has something that belongs to me.”

  This was getting more interesting the longer he talked. “What would Hollis have that belonged to you?”

  There was a pause and then Davidson said, “He stole my diary.”

  I knew Hollis had kept a diary since I’d seen it one time. I had no idea ol Davy would keep one. “Well, it would seem you’re out of luck then. Since Hollis is dead, and I never heard about a diary coming to light, I’d say it’s lost and gone.”

  There was a click and the phone went dead. I headed to my front room and sat in my favorite seat. Bean came running to me and jumped into my lap. As I sat there stroking her fur, my mind returned to Hollis So, if Snooker thought he saw somebody he thought was Hollis, exactly who did he see? There was no reason for him to lie… or was there? For sure, he couldn’t have seen Hollis.

  And then what was the thing with the diary? I was finding it very difficult to believe there were two diaries, one from Hollis and one from Davidson. Never in a million years would I have believed Davidson would keep a diary. I just couldn’t see it. But I never would have imagined Hollis keeping one either, until I’d actually held it in my hands

  I needed some answers and I thought I knew who I could ask. I reached over and picked up my cell phone. I pushed the speed dial.

  Sakol is a Seattle Police detective who is of Thai extraction. His boss, Jeff L. Davenport and I are childhood buddies and because of my friendship with Jeff, Sakol and I have developed a friendship. He has a happy moon face and when anybody meets him they all like him immediately. When Sakol speaks, he sounds like he just stepped off the boat from Asia, but I know different. His English is excellent, and the reason for his speech pattern is because when he was young he saw a Charlie Chan movie and was fascinated with the way Chan talked. Most of the time he speaks in this broken English and when he questions suspects, he gets amazing results. People hear him and they think they’re speaking to a person with less than average intelligence. The problem with that is Sakol is very intelligent and remembers every word a suspect says. I know he’s well educated, and actually speaks English with a slight British accent.

  As I said, Sakol and I are very good friends and I thought he would know the disposition of Heyward’s body. Sakol answered in his normal way. “You talk. I listen.”

  “Sakol, it’s Matt.”

  I got a very cheerful hello and then he asked me why I was calling him. I could see no point in beating around the bush and I asked him, “Sakol, I know your department was the one who checked Hollis’ body into the morgue and was also the one who released the body to the government agents who came and got it.” I got a grunt for an answer. “My question is there any reason to believe that Hollis could still be alive?”

  The phone was still for so long I finally asked, “Sakol, are you still there?”

  Finally, he replied, “Why ask?”

  “Sakol, don’t answer me with another question. This time you have to give me an answer first. Could Hollis still be alive?”

  Again, I thought it took too long before I got my answer. “No. He dead.”

  “Sakol, you took too long to answer, I don’t believe you. There’s something going on, but you’re not going to tell me what’s happening. Are you?”

  “Hollis dead. End story. Saw dead body. You accept. I go.” And the phone went dead in my hand.

  I swore so loud Bean barked at me. I knew there was no way Hollis was alive. No possibility.

  Or was there?

  No! I was positive of what I’d seen up in that lighthouse tower. But, just in case… how could I find out for sure? My old cop buddy Jeff was now a captain, so getting any information out of him was a moot point. That was a dead end. I wracked my brain. Who could, or perhaps even more to the point, who would tell me if Hollis was still alive.

  Hollis just couldn’t be alive!

  Could he?

  I decided I needed to get out and take a walk. I got Bean’s leash from the pantry and eventually got her to stop dancing around so I could get the leash on her. We walked a long way and when we got home we were both very tired. I was glad to be so worn out. Lately sleep had been something that seemed to be avoiding me. I stopped at the vacant lot and let Bean off leash and explore. Eventually she headed down the walkway towards the kitchen. She was ready for her treat and to settle in. I thought a nice small, but nourishing Scotch was in order and then it was off to bed for me.

  As I brushed my teeth, thoughts of Hollis moved through my head. Even though I was positive Hollis was dead, I was not happy to hear somebody thought they had seen him still alive. And Sakol hadn’t exactly helped me put it all away either. But I was tired and ready for sleep. “Come on Bean,” I called, and we both headed off to bed.

  I was right about one thing, sleep came quickly.

  CHAPTER SIX

  After I took Bean out for her morning duties, as I walked through the back door, I heard my cell phone ringing out in the front room. I had no way of knowing how many times it had rung before I heard it, so I decided I wasn’t going to make a run for it. I got Bean her treat from the pantry and then prepared myself a cup of coffee. I wandered out to my favorite chair in the front room and settled in. When I checked, who’d made the call I’d missed, it was Mouse.

  Mouse and Sakol grew up in the same neighborhood and they became the best of friends. As some of you know, Sakol is a Seattle cop, and Mr. Fox, or many know him Mouse, tends to lean towards the other side of the law. I’m not saying he’s a crook, but his interest in various things is vast and at times he tends to make his own rules and because of this, our society might frown on some of those rules. Because of the deep friendship between the two men, Sakol tends to look the other way regarding Mouse and his various activities.

  Our relationship started when Sakol introduced me to Mouse because all of us were looking for a drug dealer who had set up a hit. Another time I needed to find a fellow who was a football player at the U. I didn’t know how to exactly find him, but Sakol suggested I contact Mouse. Mouse arranged a meeting and basically, it worked out okay. Mouse just seems to know a lot of strange people and a lot of even stranger things.

  I guess when one considers all of the dealings I’ve had with Mouse, you could say we were friends. However, in all the time I’ve known Mouse, he has never begged me to do something for him.

  Asked? Yes. Many times.

  Cajoled? Yes. Same answer.

  But Mouse never had used the words, ‘Please, I beg you!’ to me before. Of course, when he begged, I said yes.

  And that brings me to the reason why now I’m standing in the dark, near the top of one of the mountains in the Cascade Range, in falling snow, doing what Mouse had begged of me. I guess at this point I need to bring everybody up to speed.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  I dialed and listened to it ring a couple of times and when Mouse finally answered it, there were no pleasantries to start. I found this weird because if there is anybody who is polite to almost a fault, it’s Mouse.

  “Oh God, Matt, I’m so glad you called back.”

  “Mouse, you sound a bit crazed, what’s going on?”<
br />
  “I was called away to a meeting in South Seattle early this morning and when I got back, somebody had broken in and they kidnapped Jade.” Now I’m not referring to the ornamental gemstone. Jade is the name of Mouse’s… well, putting a definition on what Jade is to Mouse is a bit difficult. Because of Mouse’s size, over the years he learned many of the Asian martial arts in order to protect himself. During a visit to San Francisco, Mouse was walking down an alley when he came across some youths beating up an old Chinese man in order to rob him. Mouse stepped in and within moments, there were six young men lying on the ground in serious need of medical attention. The old man Mouse helped turned out to be the head of an ancient Chinese organization on the United States West Coast. To say the old man was grateful is putting it mildly.

  When the group learned of Mouse’s help in saving the old gentleman, they did something this organization had ever done for any Caucasian, Mouse was made an honorary member of that ancient organization. When Mouse returned to Seattle, he also found that he had been gifted a beautiful Chinese girl just off the boat from China. Her name was Jade. At first Mouse had refused, but when he learned she would be returned to her village in China because she hadn’t pleased Mouse because he’d refused her, he relented and agreed to keep her. Jade was in love with Mouse, but he thought she was only grateful because he had arranged for her not to be returned to China. Even though Mouse was in love with Jade, he never acted on it because of his feelings regarding the reason she was with him. He thought she was a gift, nothing more.

  I asked Mouse, “What about your bodyguard that’s always there?”

  The silence stretched out long enough that finally I said his name and asked if he was still there. The voice that answered me didn’t sound like my friend at all. “Jamel is in the hospital. They shot him three times, but he’s still alive. I came back to find my place all torn up and Jamel was on the floor. There was a note on my door telling me I was going to get a call and I was to do exactly what they said or else the next time I saw Jade she would be in a coffin.” His voice broke.