In Plain Sight

Alex put his hand on his forehead and pinched it. He’d been without food, liquor, or a cigarette in quite a while and it had given him a pounding headache. The beam of his lantern fell across Evelyn’s sleeping form as he lifted it to extinguish the ghostlight burner. She stirred and Alex quickly blew out the flame. The light no longer illuminated her, but he could still see her in his mind. Even disheveled, with her makeup a mess, she was beautiful.

He sighed and returned the gear to his bag. A small wooden box was tucked into one end of the bag and Alex withdrew it, setting it on the workbench quietly. Inside was a flask with a nice single malt scotch that he’d pilfered from Iggy’s liquor cabinet. Usually this was his reward for a case solved and a job well done, but in this case, he’d make an exception. Evelyn wanted her brother found, and he’d done that. She wanted to know who killed him, and he knew that now, too. Whoever the mysterious Becky was, she’d brought Thomas the Monograph pages. She set his feet on the path that ultimately lead to his death.

Removing the cup from the top, Alex opened the flask and poured out two fingers of the amber liquid.

Becky had torn Thomas’ place apart looking for his notebook. She wanted to see how he’d attempted to solve the rune, maybe use the notes to entice the next patsy she conned into looking for the Monograph. It was the only thing she could have been looking for. Thomas copied the original Monograph pages into his lore book, and they weren’t here in the workshop, so Becky must still have them.

“She’s miles away by now,” he said, draining the tiny tin cup and refilling it from the flask.

“Who?” Evelyn’s voice drifted to him out of the semi-darkness. He’d turned off some of the lights when he’d used his lamp in order to see better. Evelyn sat up on the bed and brushed her raven hair out of her face. She looked frightened for a moment, her tired mind not recognizing her surroundings for a moment, then she stood and walked to where Alex sat at the workbench.

“Can I have one of those?” she said, pointing at the tin cup.

Alex nodded and stood, offering her the stool. She sat and he went to the cupboards over the table that had the hot plate, returning a moment later with a glass. He set it next to his tin cup and poured whiskey in both.

Evelyn drained hers in one go, then tapped the glass with her finger. Alex refilled it and she drained it again.

“You’re behind,” she said, indicating the tin cup. Alex refilled her glass again, then raised his cup.

“To Thomas,” he said.

She smiled a grateful smile and they both drank.

“You’ve been wonderful,” she said, putting her glass back, upside-down. “Thank you.”

Alex poured himself another whisky and sipped at it, nursing it. “I still haven’t found the person responsible for Thomas’ death,” he said, picking up the notebook. “But this is what she wanted. I might be able to use it as bait to lure her out, but I suspect she’s headed for the hills.”

“You mean the girlfriend,” Evelyn said, and Alex nodded. She looked away. “If she wants the notebook so bad,” she said, her voice hard, “I want you to burn it.”

“If that’s what you want,” Alex said, finishing his drink. Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

“I just want all this to be over,” she said in a small voice. She wobbled on her feet and Alex put his arm around her waist to steady her. She buried her face in his chest.

She felt good in his arms.

He looked down at her and she raised up, pressing her lips to his. It wasn’t a chaste peck or a gesture of gratitude but a fiery, pulsating need. She needed to feel alive, needed to be held. Alex pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together. He didn’t know if he’d initiated the kiss or if she’d done it. All he knew was that it felt right and she tasted sweet. A minute later he bent down and picked her up, carrying her toward the bed. He was sure she’d tell him to stop before he reached it, but she didn’t.

16 The Broker

Iggy was sitting in the kitchen with a coffee cup in one hand and the pot in the other when Alex got home. The old man looked exhausted, but at least he wasn’t coming in after sunup smelling of Scotch, silverlight oil, and perfume. When Iggy caught sight of him, he raised an eyebrow.

“And just where have you been?” he said. The eyebrows went up further when Alex got closer. “That’s a lovely shade of lipstick on your collar,” he added.

Alex said nothing.

“At least you don’t smell like a brothel; that’s expensive perfume. Did you keep the Sorceress company last night?”

“God, no,” Alex said, offended that his friend would even suspect such a thing. Sorsha was beautiful, no question, but she seemed to have a healthy dislike for him. “I don’t have a death wish,” he declared. “Can you imagine what that woman could do to a man who sent her packing? Or God forbid, broke her heart.”

“Planning on sending your companion of last night packing?” Iggy said. “You seem to think that’s where all relationships end up.”