The Gilded Mirror

by L. M. Somerton

  There was no point in staying dressed up for an evening flying solo on the couch. Landry returned to the bedroom, peeled off his pants and dressed instead in a fluffy unicorn onesie that had been a gag gift from Petey. He stole a pair of Gage’s thermal socks, the ones he wore when he was going on planned stakeouts, then grabbed his laptop to set up on the dining table. Watching a film no longer held any appeal so Landry decided to get back to his treasure hunting research. Once he was settled with a giant mug of hot chocolate, complete with half a packet of marshmallows, he had a quick flick through his emails. There was one from Sancha outlining a few bullet points about the medals with a note to say that they hadn’t had time to investigate the odd one out.

  “As good a place to start as any, then.” Landry pulled up the picture he had taken of the medals on his phone then began searching through symbols with a similar shape. The starburst shape was unusual, as were the red stones. The medal was very different to most other designs, but it didn’t take long before he found a close match. The symbol seemed to be attributed to St. Cuthbert. He found an article about an exhibition of treasure related to the saint at Durham Cathedral in the north of England.

  The prize exhibit was a gold and garnet cross that took him down a bit of an Internet rabbit hole. Cuthbert was originally a Celtic Christian and the Celtic connection, plus its shape gave the cross the alternative name Thor’s cross.

  Landry read a few lines out loud. “Cuthbert means brilliant light. One night in August, 651, the shepherd boy Cuthbert was praying on a hillside near Melrose Monastery which lies at the heart of the Scottish borders. He saw a great light and a choir of angels descend from the night sky.

  “The next day he learned that St. Aidan, Bishop of Lindisfarne, had died the previous night. Cuthbert believed he had witnessed St. Aidan’s soul being carried to heaven and took this as a sign of his calling to missionary work. Wow. The St. Cuthbert’s cross is seen mainly on heraldic regalia and similar ceremonial wear. To fit the shape of escutcheons—I have no idea how to pronounce that—in coats of arms, the cross is formed of four equal length arms. Each arm has a Thor-like hammerhead but there’s no connection between Thor and St. Cuthbert except for the influence of Celtic art in the seventh century.

  “That’s kind of disappointing, a link with Thor would have given me an excuse to look at pictures of blond hunks.” He did that anyway, as a reward for his dedication because shirtless pictures of Chris Hemsworth were motivational.

  He had to force himself back on topic. He kept reading for a while and various articles all told him much the same. He massaged his temples. He was missing something, he knew it. He was sure he had heard reference to St. Cuthbert somewhere else, but he couldn’t recall where. He started revisiting some of the pages that he and Gage had viewed together when they had initially looked up places linked to the treasure map.

  An hour later he was cursing his poor memory. He could have saved a lot of time if he’d only remembered that Bellingham in Northumberland, England had a church called St. Cuthbert’s.

  “Dammit!” He read everything he could find about the church, parts of which dated back to the thirteenth century. He discovered that during building works in 1861, three cannonballs were recovered from within the roof, probably dating from 1597 when Bellingham was attacked by Walter Scott, fifth earl of Buccleuch. That made Landry giggle. “So they weren’t so good at cleaning up the stray armaments.” Every article he read made reference to St. Cuthbert’s well, located adjacent to the church and said to have been discovered by the saint. Supposed to have healing powers, the water was used by the church for baptisms.

  “Oh my God! The well.” Landry shuffled through the treasure tin and pulled out the book of nursery rhymes. “Ding dong bell, pussy’s in the well. I feel sorry for the cat but that has to be it. The treasure never made it to the States, it’s in a well in England and I’m the only one that knows it.”

  Landry wasn’t sure whether exhilaration or fear was top of his emotional league table. He’d certainly made it through the play-offs to the Super Bowl. He got up then went to check the lock on the apartment door. “Gage is rubbing off on me,” he muttered. He checked the time and was shocked that it was almost two in the morning. The Internet had sucked him into a wormhole. He shivered, despite his cozy outfit. His jubilation at putting the pieces of the puzzle trail together was diminished by worry over Gage’s whereabouts.

  Landry busied himself in the bathroom for a while then climbed into a bed that was far too cold. He snuggled beneath the comforter, cuddling Gage’s pillow. There was no way he was going to sleep, there was far too much rattling around in his head. He was desperate to talk to Gage but knew better than to call or message him. If he was in a position where a ring tone or message alert betrayed him, Landry would never forgive himself, and Gage couldn’t be relied on to silence his phone.

  Landry dozed but he couldn’t sleep. He was excited about the possibility that he might have solved one of the greatest mysteries of modern times, frustrated that in the middle of the night he had no one to tell, and terrified that whoever else sought the treasure would come after him again. He wasn’t convinced that his fake map would keep them off the scent for long. On top of all that, he was worried about Gage and what had happened during the day to keep him away so long. He thumped Gage’s pillow. “You are not supposed to scare me like this. You’re supposed to take care of me always.” He was exhausted, stressed and he needed his Dom’s arms around him. The moment he caught the scrape of a key in the front door he became more alert. Other than Gage, only Petey had a key and he would have texted or called first. Landry still grabbed the nearest thing to hand as a weapon.

  “Why are you waving my best paddle at me?” Gage loomed in the bedroom doorway, his smirk clear even in the low light. Landry turned on a lamp.

  “Where have you been? Are you okay?” He dropped the paddle.

  “We cracked the money laundering case. Caught the bad guys. It got a bit rough but an hour ago I had a million plus dollars’ worth of uncut diamonds in my hands.” Landry was out of bed and across the room in an instant. “What in the ever-loving heck are you wearing?” Gage pushed back the hood of Landry’s unicorn onesie.

  “It’s your fault. I was wearing skin-tight leather until you told me you weren’t coming back. I had to get comfy.” Landry started stripping Gage where he stood. “Tell me about the diamonds!”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I need to check you over. Do I need to fetch the first aid kit?”

  Gage stood passive while Landry removed all his clothes. “It’s the middle of the night and I’m standing here, butt ass naked in the company of a furry unicorn. I think I may have been shot and this is some kind of hallucination brought on by seriously good drugs.”

  “Hush, you. Oh my God, your shoulder is some kind of bruisy rainbow.”

  “That’s what happens when you have to barge down a door because the police department are busy using their battering ram elsewhere.”

  “Why did you have to do it?”

  “It was me or Sancha.”

  “Fair enough,” Landry grumbled. “Though, I bet Sancha has really hard shoulders.” He kept prodding and poking. “Your hip is bruised too.”

  “I hit the ground when I went through the door. Had to dive in case anyone was shooting at me.”

  “And were they?” Landry had to ask.

  “If they were, they didn’t hit me and that’s all you need to know.” A very naked Gage drew Landry into his arms. “I’m fine. A bit battered that’s all. It was a great result and the best thing of all is that Petey can relax. No one’s going to be coming after him now.”

  “That’s amazing news. Give me the highlights.”

  “To cut a long story short, we realized that the money laundering was a cover-up for a jewel theft from some unsavory people and that we’d interrupted their getaway plan. A fake maintenance guy had hidden the diamonds in the plumbing, and they weren’t f
ound when the building was searched. We worked out that he’d have to go back to get them, lay in wait and bingo. Bad guy caught, diamonds retrieved, case closed.”

  “That’s amazing! I had an exciting evening too,” Landry said as Gage hoisted him into his arms, two hands beneath his butt. He walked him back to the bed then dropped him onto the mattress.

  “You can tell me all about it once we’re warm.” Gage got into bed too and pulled the comforter over the pair of them.

  “I’ve solved the riddle of the map,” Landry said. He gave Gage a very brief summary of how all the clues had slotted together.

  “If this turns out to be right, it’s quite a story.” Gage pulled Landry closer. “But as we have to be up again in about three hours, we need to try and grab at least a little sleep otherwise we’re both going to feel like hell in the morning.”

  “I think that’s a given,” Landry said. “I’m going to be mainlining coffee for the entire day. I can sleep now you’re here. I was scared.”

  “I’m sorry I worried you,” Gage murmured, stroking Landry’s hair. “Everything happened real fast. When Sancha gets one of her gut feelings, she really knows how to put a bee up the collective backside of the Seattle PD.”

  “Bees and backsides do not go together,” Landry muttered, closing his eyes. Gage’s warmth and scent surrounded him and finally he could relax.

  He slept for ten minutes—at least that was what it felt like to Landry when he awoke, groggy, bleary-eyed and cranky. Gage was already up, hair damp from the shower and half-dressed. Landry summoned the energy to ogle his bare chest before he buttoned his shirt. “I wish I had the strength to come over there and lick you.”

  “Coffee is brewing. Once Sancha and I are done questioning the guys we took in last night, I mean this morning… I have no idea what the time is, I should be able to finish early.”

  “Sounds good.” Landry stretched, groaning at his aching joints. “I foresee an early night in our future. How long has it been since we got eight solid hours of sleep?”

  “Too long. And right now just thinking about it makes me want to yawn.”

  “No! Don’t do that or you’ll set me off.” Landry hid beneath the duvet, but Gage peeled it back to give him a kiss.

  “Go take a cold shower, that’ll help.”

  “Sadist.”

  “Occasionally.” Gage grinned. “I’ll see you soon. Be good.”

  “I’m always good!” Landry yelled after him before subsiding back under the covers. “Ten more minutes…”

  Despite his words and his body’s need for rest, Landry rolled out of bed a few minutes later then dragged himself to the shower. He didn’t resort to cold water because he wasn’t a masochist but he did have it cooler than normal. He got dry, drank coffee, dressed, drank more coffee then stumbled down the stairs about fifteen minutes later than he should have.

  “You look like a pile of steaming dog crap,” Petey said.

  “And there’s my supportive best friend at work,” Landry grumbled.

  “I hope those suitcases under your eyes are Louis Vuitton and that they were worth it.”

  “I’ll tell you all about it once I’ve been to the café for vast quantities of sugar-laden baked goodies and a couple gallons of coffee. You want anything?”

  Petey rolled his eyes. “You really are half-asleep if you have to ask me that.”

  “I’m a lost cause. Thanks for opening up, oh and Gage solved his case, so you don’t have a target painted on your ass anymore!”

  “Really? Oh, wow that’s fabulous. You can tell me about it when you get back. Go!” Petey shooed him toward the door. “If the customers catch sight of you, they’ll run away.”

  Landry stuck his tongue out at his friend then held the door open for an incoming customer. He slipped around the man, noting his Seahawks baseball cap with a wry grin. If the guy wanted to start up a conversation about sports with Petey he’d be seriously out of luck. Petey had trouble telling the difference between a baseball and a football.

  Landry stood on the sidewalk and raised his face to the sun. For once it was warm and bright. He took a deep breath, taking in the familiar, mingled scents of coffee and baking from the café, incense from the Eastern Emporium across the street, and the unique smell of slowly warming asphalt. On the roofline opposite, two fat pigeons sat, eyeing him. He gave them a little wave. “No crumbs for you yet, girls.”

  As he reached the café door, his cell rang. Sighing, he pulled it from his pocket and moved away from the door. There was a line, and he didn’t want to stand there airing his business to assorted coffee addicts awaiting their morning fix. They’d be grumpy enough as it was. He glanced at the number, but it was withheld. Shrugging, he connected the call assuming that it was most likely someone trying to sell him insurance or telling him that the FBI was about to arrest him because of all the porn in his browsing history.

  “Hello.”

  “How wonderful to hear your dulcet tones, Landry.”

  Landry fumbled the phone from one ear to the other, not sure he was hearing correctly. “Is that you, James?”

  “And there I was thinking I was the only Englishman you were intimately acquainted with. I’ll be bitterly disappointed if you tell me you’ve been consorting with my countrymen behind my back.”

  “The only consorting I do is with Gage.”

  “The annoying detective is still keeping you captive, is he?”

  “I’m not discussing my sex life with you. How did you get this number, anyway? Where are you?” Landry looked around, half-expecting Ellery to appear from behind a streetlight.

  “I’m an investigator, Landry. Give me a little credit for being able to get my hands on information I require and I’m in London, so you can stop trying to spot me.”

  “That’s a relief, and you’re a thief. Having a plummy accent doesn’t change that.”

  “I say tomatoes, you say tomaytoes. And who pronounces it that way? If I had time to get into a conversation with you right now about your pronunciation issues, I would but I don’t.”

  “Well, if you’re in such a rush, tell me what you want.” Landry leaned against the nearest wall. “I haven’t had nearly enough coffee yet this morning. I was about to go into the bakery, so this conversation is keeping me away from sugar and carbs. You’re on dangerous ground, believe me.”

  “I apologize for interrupting your morning. I recommend a nice cup of English breakfast tea, and a toasted muffin with Marmite.”

  “We are not having this conversation. Get to the point, James, or I’m hanging up.”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I want you to walk back to Treasure Trove and take a look through the window.”

  With a pained sigh, Landry wandered back to the store. Inside he could see Petey was still dealing with the customer in the baseball cap. “I’m here. What am I supposed to be looking at?”

  “You should be looking at a friend of mine. A football fan. And I’m talking about your strange concept of football not the beautiful game. You and I are going to have a nice friendly chat and if you’re cooperative, my friend will not pull out the rather unpleasant, serrated knife he keeps beneath his coat and apply it to your young friend’s skin.”

  At that moment, the man in the baseball cap turned and looked directly at Landry. He winked before turning back to Petey and engaging in conversation.

  “This is turning into a seriously shitty morning.” Landry stomped along the street a way then took a seat on the low wall outside St. Peters, praying that there weren’t too many creepy crawlies inhabiting the moss-covered stones. “What the hell, James? Threatening my friends is not nice.”

  “Now, now. You need to be a good boy.”

  “I am so far from being your boy…” Landry glanced heavenward, scowling. “What do you want to talk about, as if I didn’t know?”

  “So you worked out it was me that sent you the map?”

  “You sent me the postcard warning me to hide it
, didn’t you?”

  “I did. The map’s existence became a little too public, and I was concerned that competitors of mine might track it to you.”

  “They did, you son of a bitch. They attacked Gage, got into my apartment… They are not nice people.”

  “But you didn’t give it to them, did you?” For the first time, Landry thought he detected a trace of uncertainty in James Ellery’s voice.

  “Gage is fine, thanks for asking. They think they have it. They don’t.”

  “Excellent, and, for what it’s worth, I’m glad your detective wasn’t damaged. I assume you have followed the clues?”

  “I’m guessing that you know I have, or you wouldn’t be calling,” Landry said.

  “You guess correctly. Very insightful. My spies tell me you’ve been a very busy boy. I hope your trip to Bellingham was fruitful. Unfortunately, my past activities prevent me from visiting the United States at the moment, so I needed someone to carry out some investigations on my behalf. I knew I could rely on your inquisitive mind to be intrigued enough by a treasure map to follow up the clues. You spotted the watermark.”

  “Yes,” Landry said. “Was it real?”

  “I can assure you the map is genuine. I came across it quite by accident. It was hidden inside a book that was part of a lot of items I picked up at an estate sale at a stately home in Northumberland. The place had housed a group of American servicemen being sent back to the States. When they left, they had to travel light so heavy things like books were left behind. The map dropped a lot of hints but nothing substantial enough to give me a location for the portrait.”

  “It is the Rafael painting at the end of this wild goose chase, then?” Landry asked.

  “Oh yes. It’s just unfortunate that the thief concerned transported it back to the United States. I have a grudging respect for his ingenuity. It must have been quite a task to keep it hidden.” Landry didn’t say a word. “There’s something you’re not telling me, Landry my sweet. It’s in the best interest of you and your friend not to hold anything back.”