Negligees, Hidden Rooms, and Private Conversations

The man that Scotch had thought was Duff turned his stool to face him. The new guy had dark hair and eyes similar to Duff’s. The man also had heavy jowls along with a weak chin as opposed Duff’s more defined facial features. The new guy was also pointing a gun at him.

Scotch listened for movement but didn’t hear anything coming from Fluffy’s direction. Either this was a delicate matter or Fluffy was such a newbie that he couldn’t be trusted with his own weapon. Scotch turned his head briefly. Fluffy’s already bloodless complexion had not paled nor did he appear jittery or anxious. Scotch looked for perspiration on the man’s forehead, another sign that he was in over his head. There was nothing.

Scotch rose from his seat slowly. He crossed to Ursula’s booth and sat down. “There are four of you here. Only two of you have weapons. Your newbie is on the job but not nervous so you must only be here to talk. From the imitate size of your group I am going to surmise that this a delicate matter.”

Ursula’s eyes brightened and one corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. “There are only three of us here Scotch. You must be losing your touch.”

Scotch leaned across the table and whispered, “There are four of you. Duff is hiding behind the counter. I can smell him from here.” He leaned back against the seat and continued. “Which also explains your new recruit being weaponless. You didn’t want to take the chance that gun fire would be exchanged, he would miss me and hit Duff instead. He must pull to the left when he shoots. Ergo, no gun for Fluffy.”

“Fluffy?” Ursula asked.

“When I first spotted him he was standing in a dog park.” Scotch turned around and called out to the man. “Have you checked your shoes lately? You probably stepped in something.”

“You’re the only one who’s stepped in something. Cheeky blighter.” Fluffy’s long legs allowed him to cross the diner quickly. Duff Look Alike a.k.a. Ursula’s Thug at the Counter had to hustle in order to block Fluffy’s path.

“Down boy.” Duff Look Alike said.

Ursula looked at Fluffy, “Lock the front door, sit back down, and be quiet if you want to get paid.”

“You said that you wired my bank with the money an hour ago.” Fluffy argued, looking stricken.

One corner of Ursula’s mouth turned up in a smile, “Lesson Number Three. If a client says that they are sending you the money before the job is done then they’re lying. Always check your bank account before leaving for work.”

“Lesson Three.” Scotch repeated. “How long ago did you bring him on?”

“Yesterday.” Ursula answered.

Scotch looked at Fluffy. “Three lessons in twenty-four hours? You are new at this.”

Fluffy glared at Scotch then at Ursula. He walked over to the front door, locked it, and sat down quietly looking uncomfortable.

“You and Duff cover the other doors.” She said to Duff Look Alike. “This is a private conversation.”

Scotch watched Ursula’s team as they made themselves scarce. He turned his attention back to her. “You used to be more discerning about who you hired.”

“I also used to be off the radar.” She countered. “Fewer people want to work with you when your long term employees keep turning up dead.”

Before Pen began her search she needed to see to it that the men in the black SUV downstairs stayed put and did not wander off. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and hoped she could pull this off. She had chosen something long, white, and silky with lace over the parts that benefit from being accentuated. At first she was concerned that choosing the most conservative looking item in the closet would not be sufficient. There were nighties of all kind in there. Everything from leather ensembles with matching whips to ruffled white and pink numbers with tiny aprons. After sifting through outfit number sixteen she wondered if Scotch had that many encounters or if it was just wishful thinking. “If I find a case of condoms somewhere it’s all in his head. Just like Aunt Serendipity and her collection of wedding veils.”

Pen took a deep breath and slowly eased her way into their visitors’ line of sight. Her calculated risk that leaving something to the imagination could be every bit as effective as showing everything was confirmed when one man hit his head on the outside of the vehicle. Another one had to have his hand stilled by the others before he could honk his approval. She mentally counted for sixty seconds and slowly backed out of the window to return to the task at hand.

Pen looked at the clock. Scotch had been gone for approximately thirty minutes. She anticipated that she had thirty to forty-five minutes to herself before chances increased that the men in the SUV outside would either call it a night or wonder if Scotch had taken another route outside the building and go looking for him. It was not much time to find what she was looking for.

She started with his drink cabinet finding nothing but alcohol and cut glass tumblers. The closets yielded little information as well. Much of Scotch’s money seemed to go into clothes and furnishings. Pen did appreciate his home library and wondered what it would be like to spend several days just exploring it.

There was nothing in the bathroom except a wide range of grooming products. “This is all impressive Scotch but where are you in all of this?” She commented. Pen checked the nightstands and found little more than the usual items including half read copies of both Chaucer and another book called Spy Game. She recognized the men on the cover. “That was a movie not a book.” Pen flipped through the paperback but did not know what she was looking for she eventually abandoned her search tossing it on to the bed.

“Now for the bed.” The first thing she noticed was the texture of the blankets. They were rough. The bed sheets weren’t much better. If the bed had been any harder it would have been made of nails. “This is out of character.” She whispered. Pen took a small flashlight from her handbag and began looking around the base of the bed. She laid down on the floor to take a look underneath but there was solid wood hiding behind its skirt. She began running her fingers along the wood anywhere they would fit.

“There you are.” She pushed a button, not knowing what was coming next, Pen stood up and got out of the way. The bed slid to the left and a section of the wall that had been concealed by the bed lifted. Lights came on revealing a well lit room.

“It looks like things just got interesting.” She said. She looked at the book she had abandoned minutes earlier, picking it up, Pen entered the hidden room.

*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.