In Style 4 Now

by Janet Leigh

  “Are we going to visit Marco?”

  “No. I need to find out what Mitchell is up to.”

  “I don’t want to go skulking around New York City trying to find Mitchell. You have no idea where he is, do you?” Gertie twisted her lips into a formidable pout.

  “Gertie, if you go with me to New York to hunt down Mitchell, I’ll treat you to some pizza at Juliana’s.” I knew it was her favorite pizza place, and I also knew Gertie hated to ride in my outhouse.

  “With mushrooms?”

  “Yes.”

  “And green olives?”

  My inner voice gagged, but I agreed.

  “Okay, what should I wear?” She was head to toe in pink sweats.

  Maybe a pair of jeans and a shirt with a little less pink.

  Twenty minutes later, we took my vessel to New York City. I was going to find my brigand and eat pizza. Life was good.

  Chapter 4

  My vessel landed in a remote cluster of trees under the Brooklyn Bridge. It was getting harder to find a decent place to land in New York City. Since 9/11, the city had undergone some major renovations, and Brooklyn was becoming a thriving borough filled with cool restaurants and upscale apartments. We exited my outhouse without too much concern, and it vanished as easily as it had landed. A deserted construction site sat off to the left—the workers had clocked out and gone home for the day. Cars honked above us on the bridge as people fought their way through rush hour traffic, leaving Manhattan behind for their modest home in Brooklyn.

  I texted Jake to let him know my plans. Better to tell him after I arrived so he couldn't say no.

  He responded with be safe. Jake didn’t forbid me to continue. He was as curious as I was about why Mitchell wanted the museum relics.

  We walked the short distance to Juliana's Pizza, passing a few tourists snapping pictures of the New York City landscape from the pier. My hair whipped around my face and I warmed my hands in the pockets of my lightweight North Face jacket. It may be ninety degrees in Texas, but in New York, it was much cooler. Gertie and I stood in line to get a pizza. The smell of freshly baked dough hung in the air, and my stomach grumbled.

  “Damn these long lines,” Gertie said. “Why is it there’s always a line in New York?”

  I shrugged. My mind was busy making a list of places to search for Mitchell. I prayed he was in the city. Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see Ace standing behind me. He leaned in and kissed me on both cheeks. Gertie received the same.

  He had dyed violet streaks through his long brown hair which was tied Samurai style on top of his head. He wore a pair of navy chinos and a slouchy striped shirt. His SOCOFY handmade leather shoes gave me goosebumps, and I couldn’t help but salivate over them.

  “Ace, I thought you were in England?”

  “Well doll, a little family time goes a long way. I returned this morning from my trip across the pond, and let’s just say I’m glad to be home.” His British accent skipped a few consonants.

  “How did you know we were here?” Gertie asked him.

  Ace cut his eyes toward the crowd. “Let’s go inside, and we can chat.”

  “But the line,” I said, indicating the people lined up in front of me.

  “Hon, you’ve got to have connections if you're going to go anywhere in this town.” He grabbed my hand and led me past the objecting guests to the front of the line. Gertie strutted along behind us. A young, thin waiter seated us at a corner table and took our order. The way his eyes lit up when he saw Ace spoke volumes.

  Ace told us about his trip to England until our drinks arrived, and I asked him how he knew we were in New York.

  “The moon cycle is getting close, and your flight to NYC blipped up on the screen. When I reported to headquarters, Agent McCoy told me you were in town and based on your landing I guessed the destination. I phoned my friend Angelo.” He bobbed his head toward the waiter and gave a small wave. The waiter dropped the tray he was carrying. “And here we are about to enjoy a nice dinner together.” Ace waved a hand over our table and sat back, waiting.

  Damn Jake. He’d already known I was in New York. He was testing me to see if I reported to him. My inner voice balled up her fists and stomped around in a circle. “Pizza’s not our final destination,” I said.

  “Pizza is the bribe. What’s little hotcakes got going on in tha’ head of hers?” he asked Gertie.

  We were interrupted by a large pepperoni with extra cheese, mushrooms, and green olives on half. Texas had the best BBQ, but New York won the showdown for best pizza. Gertie took a slice and folded it sideways, then groaned with satisfaction as she took a bite.

  “I followed Mitchell Mafuso today. He took a few things I want returned to the owner,” I said to Ace.

  “Mitchell can be trouble,” Ace said, choosing a slice of pizza and picking off the mushrooms.

  “Why does this pizza taste so good?” Gertie wound the dripping cheese around her finger and piled it on top of her slice.

  “My guess would be the hot Italian guys spinning the dough and stoking the fire in the authentic pizza ovens,” I said, watching the giant floppy dough being flipped in the air flying saucer style behind the glass observation windows.

  The starry-eyed waiter came and topped off Ace’s glass of water.

  “Thanks, love.” Ace winked at him, and his olive complexion flushed a cherry red.

  I explained my trip to Waco and the items that Mitchell took, leaving out the part about the dumpster.

  “Do you think Mitchell is going back to meet Bonnie and Clyde?” Ace asked.

  “Now there’s a woman that got caught up in love,” Gertie said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I vaguely knew the story of Bonnie and Clyde, two young lovers who robbed banks and died.

  “Well,” Gertie took a pull from her soda. “Bonnie Parker was already married to some other guy when she met Clyde. She refused to get a divorce, blaming her strict Christian ma and the fact her husband was in jail. I think it was because she couldn’t afford to get a divorce. They were dirt poor.”

  “Why didn’t Bonnie seek financial assistance from the city?” I asked.

  “This was a time when cotton prices fell, and many farmers lost their land. The poor, indigent farm workers migrated to West Dallas and lived in a place called ‘the Bog.’ The Dallas elite didn’t want the poor mingling with the prominent city folk. I assume stealing was the only way Clyde could make money. By the time Bonnie could have afforded a divorce, it was too late. They were already wanted by the law. Bonnie fell in love with Clyde, and he got her involved in all the killin’. I read a book about them for my Texas history class. She never killed anyone, but they shot her same as the rest.”

  “I’ve never encountered them in my travels,” Ace said, wiping sauce from his mouth with a napkin. “I think they were petty thieves, stealing mostly from small-town banks. They wouldn’t have anything of great value. I don't know why the Mafusos would bother with them?”

  “Maybe they have information about a key,” I said.

  “I’ve never heard of a connection,” Ace said. “It’s sad. Their deaths were so untimely, very Romeo and Juliet.”

  “Yep, the book I read recounted she was still holdin’ her jelly sandwich when they shot her full of bullets.”

  I paused, a slice of pizza midway to my mouth. The cheese and a splash of tomato sauce dripped down my hand. Returning my pizza to my plate, I pushed it away and took a drink of water to wash down the scene Gertie described. Dying with a sandwich in my hand was not the way I wanted to go down, and I doubted it was what Bonnie had planned either. I needed to find out what Mitchell was up to before he traveled.

  I tried to drown my worries in water. It wasn’t enough. I signaled the waiter and ordered a beer.

  “If you ask me, the Mafusos are probably going back to the 1930’s. That’s about the time the newspapers romanticized Bonnie and Clyde,” Gertie said.

  “I’ll text Jake to ask
him if the travel lab has located Mitchell. He wasn’t wearing a key in Waco, and he won’t be easy to find without one.” I sent Jake a text and let him know I was with Ace and asked if they had located Mitchell. I knew he was watching me in the travel lab, but I texted him anyhow, adding two smiling emojis for good measure.

  The one good thing about the moon cycle is when it begins to open, a five-mile radius of the location of anyone wearing a key shows up on the travel screen, and big brother starts watching.

  We finished the meal, and my cell phone pinged. Jake’s message revealed his contact at the Mafuso mansion said Mitchell stayed in the city and he was headed toward Chinatown. Mitchell was not showing up on the travel screen. Jake sent me Mitchell’s last known location with a “no touching” warning attached to it. He didn’t order me to return home or forbid me to search for Mitchell. I was making progress. I sent him a thumbs up emoji.

  I got out my debit card to pay, and Ace shook his head. “It’s on me, doll.”

  I thanked Ace and showed him the approximate address of Mitchell’s location. “Where do you think Mitchell is?”

  “I’d say he’s going for his weekly massage,” Ace smiled.

  “I could use a massage,” Gertie piped up as we exited Juliana’s.

  We hailed a taxi, and I closed my eyes as the taxi driver cut in and out of traffic. He drove us over the Brooklyn Bridge, exited on Park Row, and headed east on Centre street toward the spa. If a safe landing location existed anywhere near the spa, I would have chosen lateral travel as my method of transportation. Breaking up into minute particles and reassembling across the East River felt safer than taking a taxi in New York City.

  The driver deposited us outside of a four-story building in the middle of a city block. The spa was on the first floor and the sign on the door signaled they were open for business. A young Asian woman stood behind a counter tapping on an iPad. “Can I help you?” she asked without taking her eyes off the screen.

  “Yes,” I said, stepping forward. “I'm looking for a man, about twenty years old, five ten, brown hair, blue eyes.” Wearing an evil grin and a pair of stolen spectacles.

  “Sound dreamy. When you find him ask if he got brother,” she said, making eye contact with me.

  I sighed. Ace came forward. “Honey, he’s been really bad, and we need to find ’im.”

  “Sorry, I no can help you. If he here, I no can say. All customer private. Against company policy.” She pointed to a sign on the wall. Cash Only. Legitimate Service. All customers private. No Hanky Panky allowed.

  “How about if we go in the back and take a peek?” I asked.

  “Only customer go back.”

  Ace looked at me. Gertie cut in between us and slapped the menu on the counter. “Can I get one of these?”

  Gertie pointed to the picture of a woman having a foot massage. She had a big smile on her face as if she had eaten a piece of warm chocolate cake.

  “Not me,” Ace said. “I don’t like people touching me feet, and besides, we should split up. He could be anywhere. I’ll take a manicure.” He eyed his nail beds and decided a manicure was indeed what he needed.

  Ace was right, we should split up. If Mitchell was getting a massage, I needed to get into the massage area. I chose the cheapest massage they offered. A full body Swedish. Oh boy!

  * * *

  We followed the woman down a short hall. Gertie took a seat in a recliner in a room off the main hall. Ace sat down in another room with about half a dozen girls doing nails.

  “Later, hon. Keep those blue eyes open.” Ace spoke a language I didn't know to the nail technician sitting opposite him and she giggled.

  I continued behind the front desk woman, and she opened the door to a small dressing room. I followed her inside. A row of lockers filled the far wall; a sink and a dressing room were to my left.

  “Take off clothes and put in locker.” She sized me up and pulled open a locker. She handed me a robe and a pair of slides. “Put on robe, and I take you to massage room.”

  I took the items and went into the changing room, closed the door, and did as instructed. I put my cell phone on vibrate and slipped it inside the pocket of my robe. My panties, my socks, and my key were staying on my body. I wasn’t traipsing all over the spa hunting for Mitchell buck naked. The WTF warned me never take off my key. Checking my reflection in the mirror, the blue diamonds winked back at me. The fluffy collar of the robe only partially hid my key. I turned my key around backward, so the moonstone rested against my back. “Better,” I said aloud.

  The woman waited for me, arms crossed, tapping her foot on the tile. She probably had to get back to her game of Candy Crush. After I secured my clothes in the locker, I followed her down a narrow hall that opened into a bay of four rooms. She led me into the room marked four and instructed me to take off my robe and lie face down on the table.

  “Jin Su will be in shortly,” she said and closed the door. I didn’t want to wait for Jin Su. A massage sounded like heaven, but if my mark was here, he was my priority. I slipped out of my room and stood facing the opposite doors. Might as well start with door number one. Peeking in the first room revealed a large, furry man face down on the massage table, rump in the air covered with a tiny towel. The therapist was karate chopping him in waves across his bare back.

  He stopped mid-chop and raised an eyebrow at me. I apologized and closed the door. I peeked into the next room. A slim Asian man suspended from the ceiling by a trapeze bar stood on top of a woman and was kneading the woman’s back with his feet. I closed my gaping mouth and silently shut the door.

  Third time’s a charm, right? I took a deep breath and opened the door to room number three.

  Chapter 5

  My eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in the room. Soothing sounds of waves curling onto the shore played from a speaker overhead. There was a man lying face down on the table covered by a white sheet. His hair was the right color, so I eased into the room to get a closer look.

  He didn’t move. The sheet was drawn up over his shoulders. I needed to see if he sported the same tattoo from the WTF file. What was I going to do if it was Mitchell? I would simply fetch Ace and Gertie then follow him from the spa. My inner voice gave my plan her stamp of approval, and I moved next to him. I gently tugged down the sheet and voilà, there was the snake. Its evil eyes stared up at me, ready to strike.

  Mitchell shifted. “Same as last time,” he said, his voice muffled by the face cradle.

  My legs were traitors. My mind ran for the door, but my legs remained frozen next to the table. He started to raise his head. I clamped my hand over the back of his head and ran it through his coarse hair, massaging the base of his skull. My fingers singed at the touch. I was used to reading the emotions of other travelers. Mitch had lots of pent up anger. To reduce the burning, I cleared my mind, then cleared my throat to give my best impression of an Asian masseuse.

  “You normal girl sick. I new therapist today.”

  “You’ll give me the same special treatment, right?” He started to lift his head again. I forced it back down and began rubbing his neck.

  He relaxed back into the face cradle, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I ran my hands down his back and worked the knots like Helga, the massage therapist at my brother’s office, had done to me on my last massage. Mitchell had a lot of knots—apparently being a bad guy was stressful.

  He moaned, and I focused on the knots in his upper back. Mitchell lacked the ripped bulk of Marco’s muscles, or the sculpted tone of Caiyan’s, but Mitchell had strength. He was long, lean, and cut in all the right places.

  How was I going to get the info I needed and get out before he discovered me? The guy was naked for cripe’s sake.

  “You have long day?” I asked, kneading the muscles along his spine.

  “Yep,” he said.

  In my training at the WTF, I learned to get a mark to divulge intel by making them comfortable and engaging them in conversation.

  M
y mark was comfortable. Check.

  Next to get him talking.

  “You meet girlfriend?” I asked, trying to stimulate conversation.

  “I met a beautiful girl today. Unfortunately, I had to dump her.”

  He thought I was beautiful? My face flushed pink in the mirror hanging on the wall across from me. Get a grip.

  “Do the glutes, honey, that’s my tender spot.”

  Yikes. I slid my hand down over the sheet and began pressing the taut flesh of Mitchell’s butt.

  “Don’t be shy, remove the sheet.”

  I closed my eyes and eased the draping down a smidge.

  He reached back with his hand and grabbed a fistful of the sheet, jerking it off in one swoop. The sheet fluttered to the floor. His tight ass rounded into two perfect buns of steel awaited my touch. I took a deep breath and poked my finger into the cheek closest to me.

  “That’s nice,” he cooed. “I might have to request you next time. What’s your name?”

  I ignored his question and pushed harder. He groaned. “How about my happy ending?”

  Happy ending? “No hanky panky,” I said, quoting the sign from the lobby. My heart beat faster, and a bead of sweat broke out on my forehead. I was two beats from bolting for the door.

  “I always get a happy ending.” Mitchell jumped from the table, grabbing my wrists and causing my robe to fall open.

  “What have we here?” He asked, holding my arms apart and taking in my naked torso. His eyes trailed downward to my Victoria Secrets cheeky panties, damn them. My eyes betrayed me and glanced lower to his nether regions. His penis was larger than I expected. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. My inner voice was moving in for a closer look, and I jerked her back by the hair. I averted my gaze.

  “See something you like?” He snickered at me.

  “Mitchell, I—”

  “I always get a happy ending, and you need to work on your massage skills.”

  “I need those things you took from the museum.”

  He laughed. “I have no intention of returning them.”