by K. T. Tomb
“I forgot that the majority of the Gastons moved back to France after the second Great War. The ones I’m thinking of that live here in Luxembourg are distantly related, but they are Gastons. I had forgotten Lucas was living in France somewhere,” Mrs. Rodange finished.
The intercom made that strange walkie-talkie like sound that means the other person is finished speaking and is no longer there. Travis relayed the information to Savannah, and after listening for a few moments, he hung up.
“Savannah says that Lucas calling at a time like this is just too suspicious. She thinks he knows a little something extra,” Travis relayed to the group.
“That’s for sure,” Thyri said. “Or, he’s taking a shot in the dark to see what he can find out about the whereabouts of the vases.”
“Maybe Lucas was thinking about pulling a similar stunt, found something to indicate another someone had beat him to the punch, and now he wants to try and turn the tables on them?” Adam said thoughtfully.
“Who knows?” Travis said. “We need a game plan and fast. This is what I propose. Adam, you and I are going south to pay Mr. Gaston a little visit. I’ll get his whereabouts from Mrs. Rodange; he should be easy enough to find. Thyri, you’re going to pick up Sav at the airport in LC?” Travis asked.
He was mildly confused by the look on Thyri’s face.
“LC?” She asked incredulously. “Did you really just try to get away with abbreviating Luxembourg City by calling it LC?”
“Umm… yeah,” Travis said sheepishly.
“I like it,” Adam chimed in. “It’s kind of like a code word. And who has the time to say Luxembourg City all the time. Let’s just call it LC.”
Adam may be one of the most irritating people in the world sometimes, but he certainly is a good friend, Travis thought to himself.
“Fine,” Thyri agreed. “So you were saying after I pick up Savannah, we should go take a look at what?”
“Prioritize it however you want, but we need full disclosure on the Liebowitzs and the company that those two drivers worked for. Adam and I will try to check into the curator, but something tells me that is not where we will find a whole lot of answers. It’s definitely Gaston first for us.”
Chapter Three
Thyri sat in a comfortable black wrought iron chair at her table at the small café. She had a wonderful view of Luxembourg City from where she sat, and she loved seeing the soft blanket of snow that covered everything in the winter time. It reminded her of a ski resort near Denver she had often visited in her childhood. It always surprised her that there could be snow, and still be relatively warm. Luxembourg typically stayed between forty and fifty degrees in the winter, even though they had regular snow. It must have something to do with the elevation, she mused. She also loved that it was always so quiet there.
Thyri enjoyed how warm her coffee felt as she took a small sip of her drink. She appreciated how the Europeans loved good coffee; not like the Russian thick-as-oil stuff she had encountered on a number of past assignments.
There was enough snow on the ground that Thyri did not hear the person approaching her until it was almost too late. She whirled around just as Savannah Summers placed a hand on her shoulder. She slowly looked up, and smiled. She barely had time to put her coffee cup back on the little table next to her before being wrapped up in her loving embrace.
“It is so good to see you!” Thyri exclaimed, joy clearly present in her voice.
“You are a sight for sore eyes, Hon,” Savannah replied, equally as happy.
“Well, tell me. Apart from being the daily genius behind our little company, how’ve you been?” Thyri asked.
“Pretty busy. It was tough to even get away from the U to come and help, but I needed to plug into this one. I’ve had the proverbial bug since Japan and I’ve never been to Western Europe before.”
Thyri was pretty sure that what Savannah meant to say was, “I needed to check on Travis,” but she let it slide for now.
“Well, you came to the right place,” Thyri said. “If ever there should be the need to identify one, Luxembourg would be named the capital of Europe.”
“Excuse me,” Savannah interrupted Thyri, as a waiter walked by. “I would like a mimosa please? Thank you, Hon.” She turned back to Thyri. “Sorry about that. Anyway, Mrs. Rodange sent a car for me at the airport and I’m just saying, you would not believe the bar in that sucker. All it did was kinda get me started though, so I think I’ll keep going for now. You know that I can’t do any drinking around Travis.”
“No, no, go right ahead, but Savannah…a mimosa?” Thyri was thoroughly shocked. She knew Savannah had a taste for alcohol, and she handled it much better than Travis did, but this early in the morning was new, even for her.
“Yes, dear, it’s what they had on tap in the car,” she said. “I can’t very well be ordering whiskey at 9:30 a.m., can I?” She chuckled. “Now, what were you sayin’ about them crystals?”
Thyri quickly picked up where she had left off.
Savannah was listening intently, and had finished almost two mimosas before Thyri was finished.
“Ok,” Savannah said. “So before… before I ask what we’re doing here and where we’re starting… how is Travis doing?”
“He’s doing very well. Healthier than the last time you saw him, probably. Lost some weight and I can definitely tell he’s off the booze for good,” Thyri said, and was delighted by the smile that lit up Savannah’s face.
“Oh, good. I just wanted to know if I was gonna have to kick his ass out from under a wine bottle again,” she joked. “Down to brass tacks though. What’re we doin’ to find those vases?”
“Travis thinks we should check out the Liebowitz family first. They were the ones that started the game in the first place by trying to fake a break in the day Rodange went to collect on his bet. So our best chance is to start with them. What do you think?”
“I think,” Savannah said, pausing to down the rest of her mimosa, “that sounds like a great place to start.”
The girls placed their empty utensils on the table and Thyri slipped a twenty-euro note inside the check fold that the waiter had brought.
Savannah did not flinch as she thought, There’s enough there for double the cost of that bill. Thyri was just that kind of gal. I’d like to think that I’d be that way too, if I owned half the world.
“So,” Savannah said, “where do we start looking for these Liebowitz characters?”
“They own an estate not far from here.” Savannah turned and glared at her. “What?” Thyri asked sheepishly. “I wanted to be close by so we could get to work as soon as you landed.”
“What are the boys doing?” Savannah asked, in a deceptively calm voice.
“They’re in France,” Thyri said. Savannah’s playful glower became almost real.
“Nowhere good,” Thyri added. “I’ve been to the French countryside and honestly, other than the vineyards, most of it has remained dilapidated since World War Two.”
They had been walking as they talked and the two girls turned a corner onto a broad street. It was four lanes wide. The traffic was bustling and the shoppers were out in full force. Thyri looked over her shoulder, appeared to stare off into space and then turned back around.
“What was that?” Savannah asked.
“Not sure. I just got a feeling,” Thyri replied.
“Mmm. I hear ya. That happens to me sometimes in large crowds too,” Savannah sympathized.
“Maybe…”
But Thyri was still unsure. She could not get over the feeling that they were being followed. Savannah soon began to feel the same. She could literally feel the hairs on the back of her neck lift up, but she could not put a finger on it. She paused as they came up on a shiny glass front of a store and reached into her handbag for lip gloss. Savannah made a big show of slowly and studiously applying the gloss to her lips and then making kissy faces at her reflection in the glass.
“I don’t think we sho
uld go straight to our destination,” Savannah said, grabbing Thyri’s arm and pulling her in close, pretending like they were two girlfriends sharing a secret. “We have a tail, on the other side of the street. Medium height, medium build, brown hair. I’ve noticed him a few times in the shop windows,” she said in a low voice. “Giggle and look around you.”
Thyri giggled, tossed her head back and caught the eye of virtually every man on the street. She leaned back in close to Savannah and said, “It’s not much further to the Liebowitz estate. We can make it a bit shorter if we cut through that side street coming up.”
“Ok,” Savannah replied, “but we should play it like we’re going into the corner store. I’ll tell you what, you make that turn, and I’ll go into the store. Maybe if we act like we’re going to split up he’ll get confused and we can try and lose him.”
Savannah meandered through the store, watching as inconspicuously as possible for the tail they had picked up. She was glad she was on edge; she almost missed the man who had been behind them turning down the side street after Thyri. Savannah slowly counted to ten, and then opened the door and made the turn onto the side street.
Maybe he thought I went with Thyri, so now we can catch him between the two of us.
Just as Savannah got to the back side of the stores, she heard a yelp of pain and picked up her pace. She came around a curve in the side street and saw Thyri struggling with the man who had been following them. He was trying to divest Thyri of her purse, but Thyri was putting up quite a battle.
Savannah silently pleaded, Hang on Thyri, just a few more moments.
She snuck up behind Thyri’s assailant as quietly as she could, cursing her heels as they clicked with every step. As the man noticed her approach and began to turn, Savannah swung her handbag as hard as she could and caught the mugger square in the face. He crumpled momentarily, but that was enough time for Savannah to reach down, grab the man’s arm and twist it up behind his back.
The thief squealed in pain.
“Who hired you?” she said harshly, but the man just laughed.
Thyri’s fist came flying in and caught the man right under the jaw. Savannah was so surprised she almost let go of the man’s arm. She held on through instinct alone.
“Who HIRED you?” Thyri almost screamed.
The man almost laughed again, but it turned into a high-pitched mixture of a squeal, gasp, and scream. Savannah had put her other hand on the man’s shoulder blade, and pushed, turning with her other hand. It was almost enough to dislocate the man’s shoulder.
“This is getting us nowhere, Thyri,” Savannah said, much more calmly than she actually felt. “Get his phone. Check his coat pockets.”
After a moment Thyri had it. Savannah, meanwhile, had not decreased the excruciating pressure on the man’s shoulder, and he finally said, “Ok, ok, I’ll talk.”
“Well? Don’t keep us waiting,” Savannah almost shouted.
“My name is James,” he said. “You and your friends are investigating a matter that is of the utmost interest to my employer.”
“And your employer would be?” Thyri asked.
“Liebowitz—or more accurately, the head of the Liebowitz family,” he said, grinding each word out against the searing pain in his shoulder.
“Liebowitz?” Savannah mouthed over James’ head to Thyri. “Check his phone and see if there’s a number for them in there,” Savannah said.
“Already done,” Thyri stated, “and it looks like he’s being honest.”
“Why?” Savannah questioned the man in her harshest voice yet.
“He’s not after either of you—not to hurt you anyway. He just wants information. He didn’t give me much to go on. If I’d known I was going to lose an arm, there’s no chance I would have taken this job. He just wants to know who you’re working for.”
“Hmm,” Savannah thought to herself. “Take everything he’s got, everything. Wallet, IDs, phone, everything. Just leave him his clothes and his shoes.”
To James she said, “I expect you to keep your mouth shut about this little run in. Your story is that you lost track of us as we went down a side-road. You were backtracking when you yourself got mugged,” she finished. “If you don’t stick to your story, we will know. And we’ll come after you. And it won’t be just us two women, either.”
“Ok, ok,” James agreed. “Can you let go of my arm?”
Thyri glared at him, clearly unimpressed with his tone.
“Will you let go of my arm? Ma’am,” he added, sounding quite contrite. Savannah let him up. The two girls watched him go, and they happily noted he headed away from the Liebowitz estate. They brushed each other off, adjusted their hair, and continued on their way to the Liebowitz residence.
Chapter Four
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Adam asked again, for what Travis thought must have been the twelfth time.
“Yes, we’re going the right way. I’ve been following the GPS,” Travis responded, exasperated. At least I hope we are, he added in his head.
“Well, why aren’t we there yet?” Adam whined.
“Because Adam, this place is out in what we refer to as the boondocks, middle-of-nowhere, back home,” Travis growled, growing more and more frustrated with every passing field.
He was not sure what they grew out in the French countryside. He assumed it was wheat, but based on the fields having all been harvested he could not be sure. It was late afternoon, and the sun was getting lower and lower on the horizon. Soon they would be driving in the dark, in a foreign country, with nothing but a two-inch by three-inch screen, a small ever-moving arrow, and a small dot out in the middle of nowhere to guide them.
Adam huffed his displeasure again, but Travis could not be sure why he was so discontent. He assumed it was because he had immediately vetoed Adam’s request to drive. “In ten kilometers, the destination is on your right,” the GPS said into the relative silence. They drove the rest of the way with neither man saying much, the GPS intermittently interjecting a countdown of kilometers to the Gaston residence. He and Adam were going on short sleep. They had landed in Paris not long after departing Luxembourg, rented a car, and had been on the road ever since. Travis had tried to sleep on the plane, but Adam had been constantly jabbering in his ear.
Since the closing of the firm in the early nineteen-hundreds, the Gaston family had been on a massive decline of wealth and prosperity. There were broken periods of success every couple of generations, when an heir or two decided to get off their butts and tried to rebuild, but they had been short-lived. Travis could not understand how a family that had so much money could now be where they were, financially.
On the other hand, he mused pensively, look at some of those spoiled brats back home. All this money and what do they do? Flush it down the toilet on booze, drugs and sex.
The drive led up to a mansion that seemed to appear almost out of nowhere. Travis over-applied the brakes of the car, causing Adam to rock forward violently; his glasses slid down to the end of his nose.
“Sorry,” Travis said, executing a sharp right turn into the driveway. They had about a quarter mile drive up to the parking area of the mansion, which was situated at the top of a hill, overlooking what once may have been fruitful vineyards. Adam immediately launched into a history of winemaking in Europe, and was attempting an excruciatingly boring rhapsody on the differences in soil quality that made the wine better than most American growing regions when Travis interrupted him.
“Listen, I need you to focus. We’re here to investigate Lucas Gaston. We need to know what he knows, and see how he reacts to us knowing that he is already aware that the vases are missing. Just pay close attention for anything suspicious, got it?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Adam replied sarcastically. “This place is a dump. Look at all those weeds. Those fields haven’t been properly tended to in at least two seasons.”
He trailed off into a tense silence. Adam was not very good with confr
ontation and trying to read people’s body language and such. At that moment, he was more intrigued by the old mansion than the actual investigation. The place was old, and he was itching to know what kind of antiques Gaston could be sitting on in there.
Maybe when this is all over, he might be inclined to discuss me purchasing a couple of pieces for my own collection, Adam thought.
“Alright,” Travis said. “Here we go.”
The two men got out of the car, and went to the front door of the house. Travis looked all over for a door-knocker, which he found in the decrepit rose bushes on the left side of the porch. Adam began searching the door frame for a doorbell, which he could not find either. Finally and exasperated, Travis looked again and noticed an old, frayed, rope hanging to one side. He grabbed it and pulled, ignoring Adam’s distress. A bell sounded all throughout the house. The bell sounded like it had more than one serious dent. It sounded dull and clunky.
“I can’t believe it,” Adam said breathlessly. “A ‘real’ doorbell, it’s been ages since I’ve even heard of one still in use.”
Travis heard shuffling behind the doors, true double doors, and they creaked open on hinges that probably had not had oil since they were installed. Travis took a step back, surprised. The women who answered the door barely had any clothes on at all. She wore a lacy see-through negligee that barely covered the tops of her thighs. Travis suspected she did not even have underwear on. The glimpse he caught of the room behind the woman reminded him of something out of Hoarders. There was crap everywhere inside; the funky smell of unwashed bodies and uneaten food going bad assailed his nose. Adam, having noticed the open door, stumbled over his feet in his eagerness to meet Lucas Gaston. He immediately took a step back, noticing the woman for the first time.
“Oui?” she said in a heavy French accent, thick with seduction. Adam tried to stammer out a greeting and an introduction at the same time, and was unsuccessful at both.
