Stranger Things Have Happened: An Adrien English Write Your Own Damn Story (The Adrien English Mysteries) (12 page)

You’re out of the car and running for the club entrance before he can get out of the backseat. He runs after you, but you yank open the door to the club. There’s a blast of music and a wave of sweat and cologne, and then you’re inside and pushing through the crowd.

You spot Riordan by the bar.

You reach him, and even before you finish explaining, he’s leading the way out the club. He spots your would-be assailant running down the street and he gives chase. Riordan knocks him down, kicks the knife away, and proceeds to beat the hell out of him. When the mask is finally pulled from the beaten man, you’re horrified to see it’s Bruce Green.

Bruce is arrested, and under interrogation confesses to killing Robert.

Because of the circumstances of his breaking the case, Riordan ends up leaving the police force. He opens a private detective office. He does keep his word and he calls you. You end up going out for dinner, one thing leads to another, and before long you’re dating steadily. He teaches you a couple of neat tricks that can be done with handcuffs.

The End

A
nyway, next thing you know, it’s Tuesday and an In Sympathy card arrives in the mail for you. The inscription is the usual stuff, but someone has written beneath in black calligraphy:

Our acts our angels are —

For good or ill

Not Shakespeare; you know your Shakespeare pretty well, thanks to those Jason Leland mysteries you write in your spare time. Bacon? Marlowe?

You leave a message for Detectives Riordan and Chan, but you don’t hear anything from them. You don’t hear anything from Claude either.

Partners in Crime meets on Tuesday and Claude doesn’t show up.

The meeting goes fine. Afterwards, Bruce calls, but you don’t pick up. You’re not sure why exactly. Maybe you’ve just gotten used to being lonely.

You flip through Robert’s yearbook — he must have asked Tara to send it to him for some reason, right? — and as you examine the photos from the Chess Club, you realize that both Robert and Rusty were members. Not just Robert and Rusty…

Robert Hersey, Andrew Chin, Grant Landis, Richard Corday, Felice Burns, and Not Pictured — Adrien English.

You sit there, Mr. Not Pictured, staring at the black-and-white photo.

How the hell could Robert’s death have anything to do with what had happened back in high school?

Then again, both Robert and Rusty are dead. Murder and suicide. Two violent deaths. Surely that couldn’t be a coincidence, not with Robert found holding a chess piece?

Your speculations are disrupted by commotion in the alley outside. You go to the window and push back the lace drapery. You stare down at the moonlit alley. Light lances off the lids of the trash dumpsters against the back wall. Everything else lies in shadow.

It’s very quiet. This part of town is all but deserted at this time of night.

A shadow detaches itself from the darkness. A figure steps into view and gazes up at you. He wears a mask. A grinning skull. He gives you a jaunty little salute and springs away out of sight.

Amateur sleuthing notwithstanding, your heart isn’t strong, and this kind of shock is exactly what your doctors have warned you about.

__________

If you decide to pursue this masked prowler, click here

If you decide to phone the police and let them do what they’re paid to do, click here

T
he police arrive — just uniformed officers, not your boyfriend Riordan. OH YEAH, YOU KNOW WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT! DON’T PLAY INNOCENT!

The police are inclined to brush the incident off as kids or pranksters or both.

You try to call Claude, but there’s still no reply.

The next morning, the really, really bad smell in the shop, that you haven’t previously mentioned in case it’s something to do with Angus’ digestive issues, reaches crisis point. You search through the shop until you find a trail of ants in the storeroom, leading to an old trunk. You open the trunk and find a dead cat and many, many ants.

You call the police. Uniforms arrive and on their heels, Riordan and Chan.

“What’s up?” Riordan asks.

“Someone put a dead cat in the trunk in my office.”

Riordan and Chan exchange The Look.

“Who?” Chan asks.

This is where you kind of lose it. “Who? Is that a routine question? How do I know who? The same person who sent me black flowers and a sympathy card, and broke into my shop, and was skulking around the alley last night!”

“Am I missing something here?” Riordan asks his partner. Chan reaches for a cigarette then recalls himself. He starts patting his pockets for gum.

“If people would be candid to start with, it would help,” Chan says.

You give an incredulous laugh. “
I’m
not being candid? I am a victim here. I am being stalked.”

“Run that by me again,” Riordan requests.

Until you put it into words the notion was nebulous, half-formed, but now you find that you believe it to be the truth. “I am being stalked.”

Yeah, well, that doesn’t go so well. You show them Rob’s yearbook. You tell them what Tara said about Robert asking her to mail it to him right before his death. You turn to the page with the Chess Club and point out Rusty. You explain about his taking a walk out of a hotel window.

“I think his death might be related. Maybe he didn’t kill himself.”

You do everything but draw them a diagram. They remain unconvinced. Or at least, Riordan is unconvinced. Chan is downright disbelieving.

The light goes on. (It’s just a metaphor, you’re still mostly in the dark — and so are the cops.) “Oh, I get it,” you say. “You still think I could be doing this to myself. That I’m trying to throw you off my trail. Red herrings, right?”

Chan says, “That’s a good point, Mr. English. This book of yours that’s going to be published, it’s about a man who stabs to death an old friend, isn’t it?”

In short, things go from bad to worse. Not so worse that they arrest you, but it continues to feel like that might just be a matter of time.

You go to Jean and Ted Finch for dinner and they bring up the thing with Max. Yeah, I don’t remember who Max is either. It actually doesn’t matter.

On the drive home you happen to spot Detective Riordan standing in line for a movie with a red-haired girl. That redhead will be trouble, mark my words.

When you get home, Bruce has left another message. This time you call him back and chat for a few minutes in your underwear, which may or may not be significant. You make plans for the following night.

The next day, you start trying to locate other members of your high school Chess Club. It’s a slow process and you don’t have any luck.

Your mother calls and you find out that Chan and Riordan are still actively investigating you. They’re currently checking into your finances which are a little overstretched, but not to the point where you’re actually considering knocking off your old playmates.

You decide you need to up your own efforts to save yourself, and you go visit Max at his little house on Ventura Blvd. Basically, you learn more stuff about Robert you’d have been happier not knowing.

When you get back to Cloak and Dagger Books, Claude calls and says he was held for questioning for a couple of days by the police. But the police had to let him go due to insufficient evidence, and he’s planning to leave town. He needs cash fast.

__________

If you decide to meet Claude, click here

If you’re feeling lucky, click here

W
hen you finally get back to Cloak and Dagger Books, you discover that you’ve been robbed. Not only did the thieves swipe the piddling amount of cash in the register, they ransacked the shop. You call the police, but who should show up but Detectives Chan and Riordan.

Every time you look at Riordan, you remember that crazy kiss in Robert’s apartment. He, on the other hand, seems as impassive as ever. Although his gaze does have a tendency to shy from yours. Probably because it’s obvious Detective Chan believes you faked this burglary and Riordan could — should — alibi you, but isn’t doing so.

You open your mouth to point out why you couldn’t have faked this break-in, but it probably isn’t a great idea to admit to breaking into Robert’s apartment. You decide to keep your mouth shut for now and see how it all plays out. Maybe Riordan knows what he’s doing.

“They didn’t break in.” Riordan rejoins Chan at the foot of the stairs and they hold a brief undervoiced conference.

“They must have used Robert’s key,” you tell them.

Riordan glances up at you. “Yeah, probably.”

“Well, I sure as hell didn’t fake this break-in.” The irritating thing is, that even in this moment of stress, you just can’t help noticing how unfairly attractive the asshole is. Long legs encased in Levi’s, powerful shoulders straining the seams of a surprisingly well-cut tweed jacket. You wish you could forget how his mouth felt pressing yours.

“Nobody said you did,” he says. He asks for your keys in order to check out the upstairs and you can’t think of a good reason to refuse. When he returns to the ground floor he shakes his head in answer to Chan’s inquiry.

What was he looking for?

“Mr. English,” Chan says. “You didn’t tell us everything this morning, did you?”

You knew this was coming sooner or later. You say feebly, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Riordan scowls at you like somehow you’ve let him down.

Chan says, “I was just over at the Blue Parrot. Maybe we should clear up a couple of points.”

“Such as why you lied,” Riordan chimes in.

It goes downhill from there.

You admit to arguing with Robert over his repeated swiping of the petty cash, but you remind them that that would be a pretty lame motive for murder. Except, as Riordan points out, lots of people kill for lame reasons. MOST people kill for lame reasons.

They try to get you to admit you were sleeping with Robert, but you weren’t.

Finally, you say, “Robert left before I did last night. He left to meet someone. Didn’t the bartender confirm that?”

Chan snaps his gum. “Sure did. Robert left at 6:45 and you stayed and had a second Midori margarita. You left at about 7:30. Fifteen minutes later, Robert showed up again looking for you.”

To your relief, the police do not arrest you. As the door swings shut behind Detective Riordan, you remember you never called Claude about your aborted attempt to retrieve his letters.

You phone Claude and fill him in on your disastrous attempt at B&B — er, B&E, although every time you think of Riordan…

ANYWAY.

You explain to Claude that the police already found his letters and that it’s only a matter of time before they connect “Black Beauty” to him.

Claude is inclined to blame you for this, which is pretty unreasonable. You’re about to hang up, but Claude suggests that the two of you try your hand at sleuthing and check out some kinky club Robert used to go to sometimes.

“Uh, I don’t think so,” you answer. And then, doubtfully, “What kinky club?”

It takes you a few seconds to get the gist of it, but it turns out Claude is talking about some place he refers to as a “leather club” called Ball and Chain.

“You’ve
got
to be kidding.”

But no, Claude is perfectly serious.

“But I don’t have anything to wear,” you protest. “Just a dress belt and a few finishing nails and thumb tacks. That’s not e —”

“Ta gueule!”
Claude says, and God knows what that means. Claude probably doesn’t. He keeps on and on trying to convince you what a great opportunity this would be to find out who Robert was seeing in the weeks before he was killed.

__________

If you decide to go with Claude to Ball and Chain, click here

If you decide to stay home and clean up your ransacked shop, click here

A
s Fate would have it, Claude insists you meet at the same time you were supposed to be meeting Bruce for your date. You call Bruce to let him know you have to postpone.

“Why are you canceling?”

“I can’t — this sounds ridiculous, I know. I can’t explain why. Yet.”

Another silence. A very bad connection. In more ways than one.

“Yeah. Okay. Well, another time.” Bruce sounds extremely cool.

“Bruce, it’s something I can’t get out of.”

“Sure. No problem.”

It obviously is a problem. You say, “I’m free Friday. Tomorrow night.”

“I’m not.”

Ouch. There’s actually a lot to be said for being single, and this is one of those things.

You get to the restaurant, which should be packed, but a placard in the window reads CLOSED. The back door is unlocked and you go inside.

You find Claude sitting and smoking in the dark.

“Did you bring the money?”

“No.”

“Jesus fucking Christ! Why not?”

You try to explain why not. You don’t have the money, that’s part of it, of course. The other part is you want to stop Claude from making the mistake of his life. But Claude is not in the mood to listen. After nearly braining you with an ashtray, he orders you to leave.

__________

If you choose to get Claude the money, click here

If you choose to jump ahead and see how all this turns out, click here

Y
ou slip through the back entrance of Café Noir and feel around for the light switch. Fluorescent lights cast hard white light on steel sinks, polished floors, spotless trash pails. Rows of kettles and pots gleam dully above the counters. The smell of disinfectant hangs heavily in the air mixed with the ghostly memory of garlic, basil, thyme, cigarette smoke…and something else.

Something that terrifies you.

You walk toward the dining room entrance. Suddenly, someone hurtles through, crashing into you, knocking you to the glossy floor. You have a glimpse of a black raincoat, a hat pulled low, a skeleton face, a butcher’s knife. A scene straight out of a horror movie.