Hot Stuff (20 page)

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Authors: Flo Fitzpatrick

BOOK: Hot Stuff
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Chapter 26
We were back where we'd started the night, sitting in Jake's kitchen, drinking coffee and snacking on leftovers. Well, I was snacking. No one else seemed hungry. This time though, Asha sat with us.
“One diva for another,” I'd kidded her as I pulled pastries from the fridge.
We should have been happy. But all four faces reflected nothing but doom and gloom.
“Crap. They've got it. Shiva's Diva. Damn.”
This refrain had been repeated for the last hour with different forms of cussing issuing forth from each one of us. Asha got credit for the most colorful verse. I imagined Asha had learned most of her highly obscene vocabulary from friendly wiseguys back in the infamous Tony's bar somewhere in the bowels of Jersey City.
I glanced over at Brig. He picked up the feather duster he'd used earlier this night to clean the statue with such loving care. He began waving it through the air like a wand. Maybe he thought the vibes from the duster would send out a signal to Shiva's Diva and send her back to us.
“We don't even know which of those cretins has it,” he moaned for the tenth time.
I stood. I had pigged out on coffee and pastries and fruit and potatoes. But the adrenaline rush that had seen me through a night of facing the “three dogs” all at the same time had vanished. I felt tired, sleepy, and cranky.
“You know what, gang? I hate to be the one to break up the pity party, but may I remind you that Asha is here? Alive and kicking and talking? The whole point of tonight's little gathering was to give Patel Shiva's Diva. Right? Exactly so that the end result would be Asha back here alive, kicking and talking. It's done. Let the three miscreants fight over it now. Become mutes or mutants or mutilated. We can't worry about it anymore.”
Two sets of eyes gaped at me as if they were staring at a Tempe with as many heads as Ganesh. The third set, Jake's, reflected some empathy for my feelings. But he knew the other two too well. Especially his darling bride-to-be, who now glowered at me. One of her daring rescuers.
“Tempe, I want it. Got that? I do not want the prize going to that slime bucket who grabbed me today.”
Brig nodded in full agreement with Asha. “Tempe, don't you see? If we'd given the statue to Patel as planned and he'd shoved Asha into our laps, so to speak, well, that would be one thing. We expected it. But this just seems like we were cheated. And the Diva needs a better home than with Mister Seymour Patel, creep personified.”
“But—”
I got no further. The kidnappee herself sprang to her feet, then began waving a fork with the remains of potato curry on the tip.
She growled, “Ms. Walsh! Do the words ‘matter of honor' mean anything to you? Or, hell, screw honor. How about just sheer revenge? Those guys chased us all over the city. I got trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and dumped into the back of a very smelly van. I was blindfolded and tied up all day, then stuck at the top of a dirty fountain next to a dirtier statue, and let me tell you, I didn't like it one flippin' bit!”
Jake and Brig applauded.
She growled, “I'm not finished. I don't know who's got the statue, but I'd rather be tossed into the East River to float toward one of the nastier landfills near Staten Island than let them get away with doing this to me. And you know what else? I think any one of us has as much right to that statue as anybody. We're all creative. Saraswati is not going to be happy on the mantle of any of the three who might have snatched her.”
Brig quickly chimed in, “I agree!”
Not surprising. He'd been a gentleman and a brave hero when he needed to give up Shiva's Diva to save Asha's life. Now that Miss Kumar was bouncing and full of fury, he wanted that statue back under his watchful eye.
Jake walked over to me and hugged me. “It's quite useless, Tempe. Both of them are mad. And I use the term with both meanings—anger
and
insanity. There's nothing we can say.” He chuckled. “I also must admit, they're right. I do not want Patel, Mahindra, or Decore claiming Shiva's Diva. Or victory. And I'm damn incensed that Patel had the nerve to treat Asha that way.”
He had joined the crazies. Three sets of eyes now stared at me. Jake had pegged it. Useless. Mad. Insane.
I sighed. “Fine. Fine. We shall hunt down all of the felons like the dogs they are and bring the goddess back to somewhere she'd prefer living. How's that? But can we get some sleep first?”
A sane person might be wondering right now why none of our recent attackers or kidnappers had come storming up the gates, or driveway, to continue the battle started at Flora Fountain. We were at Jake Roshan's residence; a house listed in various directories. Asha's flamboyant vehicle sat parked right outside, unguarded. Naked. We were doubtless crazy.
But, without delving too deeply into the sanity issues of this crowd, none of us were worried for one simple reason. We didn't have the statue. Ergo, logically, the pursuers would now be chasing down the one who did.
Jake gave Brig the large guestroom. I got a study with a nice couch instead of the maid's room. I couldn't stand inhaling the scent of musk again. I didn't ask where Asha would sleep. Not my business. But I felt sure she'd be a lot more comfortable and more satisfied than I.
At some point during the wee hours of the morning, Asha had managed to call her cook, Mala, and get the woman over to Jake's. When I awoke around nine, wonderful scents were coming from the kitchen. I threw on my battle-stained old sweats, then followed my nose.
I spent the next hour blessing Asha's mother and her recipe book. Mala had whipped up a down-home American diner breakfast. Eggs, bacon, English muffins made from scratch, home fries, jam and Danish. There was even fresh-squeezed orange juice on the side. Plus more flavored coffee.
I ate. The more I ate, the more I agreed with my compatriots. The Saraswati statue did not belong in the hands of thugs. It might not belong with the three of us, but we were far more worthy of giving the Diva a temporary home than Seymour Patel and his lackeys. Or even Mahindra, who might act like a gentleman but had the instincts of a career criminal. Or Ray, the cheating businessman who'd aimed a gun at me on two separate occasions. The creep.
Brig had wandered into the kitchen sometime during my third cup of coffee. He had then proceeded to gulp down his breakfast with frightening speed. I waited till he'd finished before I asked, “Where do we go from here?”
Jake and Asha walked in at that moment. Jake answered, “Tempe. You, Asha, and I go to the studio. We have filming to do today.”
Asha and I yelled, “What?” at the same time. Jake shook his head. Firmly. No discussion there.
“Ladies. You enjoyed a break yesterday for the Ganesh festival. But we have a dance sequence in the carnival to complete by close of shooting today.”
“But what about the statue? I thought we were going to find her. And
pardonez moi
, but that was no break. Asha got kidnapped and I got saddle sores riding Bambi.”
Jake looked at me. “Weren't you the one who wanted to let it be? Let Shiva's Diva work her curse on whichever one of those jerks grabbed her last night?”
“Well, you guys convinced me otherwise. And tempus is fugiting, folks. Unlike me, Ray has his passport. There's nothing stopping him from getting on a plane and flying off back to New York even. Who would know he stole Saraswati? Or Mahindra and Patel could smuggle it out of the country and we'd never find it again.”
Brig put his hand on my arm. “If Seymour has it, he's looking for the highest bidder. If Kirkee has it, he's going to put it in his flat, admire it, and pray for its blessings before he sells it. If Ray has it? He's dead. He's way over his head in this deal. The point being there's no great rush to get the goddess this morning.”
“Oh. Okay. But I hate to go off and dance when I feel like I should be taking some kind of action.”
Brig stood. “That's where I come in. While you three are doing your thing on camera, I'll be trying to learn what I can. I know people.”
I started to ask who, what, and why, but Brig held up his hand. “People who know things and owe me. Okay?”
I took off with Jake and Asha. Jake had wisely scheduled the shoot for a later hour than his normal working day, knowing most of his actors and dancers would be attending the closing day of the Ganesh festival, then hitting the party circuit after. I settled into the back seat of Jake's second car, a huge sedan, grateful we were not trying to squeeze into Asha's two-seater again.
Heaven smiled on me. This particular sequence in the film called for less aerobic activity than any of my other scenes this week. I had one small dance number listed, set in the carnival tent where the animal trainers would be showing off the tigers and lions and elephants and their tricks. I expected to see Bambi the elephant come strolling in any moment and start a tap routine behind me.
Most of the day I spent watching Asha and Raj go through a series of love scenes that made me blush and made me wonder how Jake dealt with watching another man's hands roving around his intended's softer parts. I started imagining Brig and me in similar circumstances.
I missed him. I missed his laughter and the thick Irish brogue he assumed when he thought the occasion suited it. I missed his quick mind and his lack of fear and his concern for his friends. I missed the taste and feel of his lips. I missed the warmth of his body beside me. I needed much more than one brief, chaste night in his arms.
I sat up. What was I thinking? I'd already concluded that the man put the
K
in crook. I mean, really, only today he'd gone off to see “some people.” Black marketeers? His Merry Men? Burglars-R-Us? Even if he felt the way I did, there was no future in this relationship. I could see it now.
“Hi, Mom. This is Briggan O'Brien. I'm not sure what he does for a living, but he has friends on all continents. And his picture is up in a lot of post offices and train stations throughout the Western world. Oops. Make that the East as well. Not to mention all points north and south. Rather like the witches in Oz. But, hey! He spent his teen years in Riverdale even if on occasion he sounds like a charter member of the Society for the Preservation of Leprechauns.”
Actually, Mom would love him immediately. It would be the discussion with my father that would send me into an arranged marriage with the first Wall Street mogul my male parent hauled in while dining at Twenty-One.
Mom would be singing “Over the Rainbow.” My father would be hiring detectives. I would then cajole with “Father, you always wanted me to bring home a nice man who grew up in Manhattan. One who has eclectic tastes and can speak more than one language. Well, here he is. Yes, he lists robbing the rich and giving to the poor on his tax returns under ‘Occupation, ' but he's truly a sweet guy. Practical. Stable.”
In the midst of this absurd daydream about this unlikely, silly, and just plain stupid scene, the man himself appeared. He couldn't just walk up and greet me though. Oh no. That would be too simple, too plebeian for Mr. O'Brien. He had to make an entrance, even if he was seated as he did so. He waved at me from the top of a glassed-in animal cage stored at one end of the carnival tent. He looked very pleased with himself.
I wondered if he'd look that pleased if he realized the cage was swarming with snakes.
Chapter 27
I lied. Yes, I'm a linguist. And yes, I do have a decent vocabulary. I take a special interest in the meaning of words. Which is why I was pretty darn certain snakes do not swarm. Bees swarm.
To be honest, I'm not sure what snakes do when two or more get together to chat, but even if that activity could be called swarming, I exaggerated somewhat. There were two snakes, total, in the cage. I don't believe even two
bees
constitute a swarm. Nonetheless, if Brig realized he'd chosen a spot above two cobras, swarming or not, he'd be less than pleased. He'd be paralyzed. Or passed out entirely.
“You look a bit too content with your lot in life, Mr. O'Brien. Did your buddies direct you to whoever is currently holding Shiva's Diva, give you tea, then send you out to retrieve the goddess without incident?”
Brig shook his head. “Cynical. Bless your heart. I'm gone four hours and you've turned cynical. It's because you need me around to keep you sweet and trusting and lovely and sexy and—”
“Brig? What did you find out? And you can stop the list of compliments you're
apt
to be tryin' on me, lad.”
“I'm just getting warmed up, you know. On the list of your better attributes.”
“Well, hang on to them to warm you on a cold winter's night. I swear, trying to extract info from you is like trying to milk Bambi the elephant. What did you find out?”
He sighed. “Not a blessed thing.”
“Beg pardon? You're looking like the proverbial cat with a whiskerful of cream on its mug, but you don't know diddly?”
“You're doing it again.”
“I'm doing what?”
“Mixing your metaphors. Slaying your similes. Pounding your paradoxes. Ousting your oxymorons.”
“Brig!”
“Sorry. What were you asking? Ah. If any discoveries were made. Actually, it's been a most frustrating day. I hit Ray's hotel. No statue.”
“He still there? I mean, checked in and all?”
“Oh yeah. Very much there. I could hear him snoring all the way out in the corridor.”
I threw him a quick glance. “I thought you told me the rooms were so soundproof you hadn't been able to hear anything when you were eavesdropping on Mahindra and Ray the other morning. Yesterday?”
He looked not the least ashamed to be caught in a fib. “We'el, I might be stretching the truth just a wee bit there about hearing actual snoring from the corridor. But, Ray Decore was inside and definitely asleep. I peeked in on him from the balcony doors and saw him lyin' on the bed and whispering sweet nothings to his pillow.”
“You were on the balcony? Are you nuts? How in hell did you get up there anyway? I don't remember a fire escape nearby.”
“You've got good eyes. As well as beautiful. And you're right, there are no stairs by the balconies. But I've done a spot of mountain climbing in my time. I simply shimmied up to floor five.”
The lunatic truly was a second-story man. And today he'd added another three stories.
“You did this in broad, blazing daylight?”
He seemed surprised. “Well, naturally. If I went sneaking up the side of a luxury hotel in the middle of the night, it'd look quite suspicious. Daytime? Who cares? Anyone not busy with their own business would assume a man climbing outside a building had a damn good reason to be doing so. Checking security. Washing windows. Having an assignation. Avoiding a spouse. Any number of innocent explanations. Who's to notice a man rappeling in reverse?”
He had me. It was so ludicrous it made sense.
“Okay. So you do your Spider-Man routine up the side of the Taj Hotel and peek in through the doors outside Ray's balcony and see him snoozing. How do you know the statue wasn't there with him? Or packed with the Armanis?”
Brig studied the top of the carnival tent with intense interest. He didn't answer.
“Brig?”
“Well, if you must know, I searched his room.”
I groaned. “You went in and tossed his things and he just lay there?”
“The man's a world-class champion sleeper. But I think this particular nap might have been kicked up a bit thanks to the stash of morphine on his bedside table.”
“Morphine?”
“He got shot last night, Tempe. Or knifed. Leg? Thigh? Remember? Which is how you were able to squirm out of the way of Ray's nasty gun while he howled. I hate to ruin any previous impressions you might have from TV. Regardless of how heroes in crime shows pop up and run away after being riddled with bullets that would take down a charging moose, getting shot hurts. One hell of a lot. Wee bottles of children's aspirin won't end that kind of pain anytime soon.”
“Ah.” I paused and remembered the cry from Ray last night when whatever got him tore through his thigh. I winced.
Brig motioned for me to join him on top of the glass cage. It was apparent he still hadn't noticed the inhabitants. I politely declined his invitation. I'm not terribly afraid of snakes, especially when they're behind a sturdy partition, but the idea of conducting a nice tête-à-tête on top of a nest of crawlers made my skin crawl more than the serpents, who at this point still seemed to be asleep.
“Uh, Brig?”
“Mmmm?”
“Do you know what you're sitting on? Do you have any idea at all?”
Both eyebrows raised in an attitude of bewilderment.
“Well, this
is
a carnival tent. And I'm on top of a cage of some sort of animal creatures. I don't know. Whoever they are, they seem pretty quiet. A lot like Ray. Sleeping tigers? Sleeping monkeys? Sleeping gorillas?”
“Want to try sleeping cobras?”
Expressions of intense panic followed by intense fear flooded his face. He froze. For a moment I thought he would faint right there onto the cage itself.
“Brig? You don't look too happy. In fact, you look rather sick. No offense. Brig! Brig! Snap out of it! Hey! Do you need some help climbing down?”
He continued to stare at me.
“Brig? You okay? Brig! Listen. It's okay. They're behind glass. The snakes. They can't get out. Honest. And I'm sure they're defanged anyway. Um. Brig. Listen to me. There's a ladder on the side. Just take it, stay quiet, and come down.”
He hadn't said a word. But he followed my instructions and inched down the ladder.
We stood in front of the glass prison and stared at each other for at least two minutes.
“Why didn't you tell me?” Brig finally choked out.
“I thought you knew. How did you get on top of the damn thing in the first place if you didn't crawl up the ladder? Where, quite plausibly, you would have seen the serpent critters inside?”
He pointed to the top of the tent. A rope swung leisurely from a tightrope that was stretched between two small platforms.
“You didn't.”
“I did. I wanted a bit of practice.”
“So you did a swashbuckler with the rope? You are so nuts.”
He looked hurt. “I did not use the rope. Not till I decided to land on this evil cage. I used the tightrope and walked. Then I jumped down.”
“You can balance on a tightrope?”
“Well, certainly. You're a gymnast. A tightrope is a lot like those tiny little balance beams. You yourself have done hundreds of spins and splits and leaps and flips off them without a care.”
I didn't bother to point out that a balance beam is only four feet six inches off the floor, whereas a circus tightrope is yards above the ground, and there wasn't a safety net anywhere in sight.
I debated whether it would be better to ignore his more outrageous exploits or lecture him on the value of safety. If I dismissed his tightrope routine as no big deal, he'd be convinced I wasn't impressed. So he'd try and top himself with something crazier and more dangerous.
Then again, if I told him he was deranged, he'd do something worse to prove I was being foolish by worrying. He'd trot back to the snake cage, be brave enough to grab one of them and use the serpent to swing himself over to the cannon in the back of the tent. There, he'd light a match and shoot himself out of the cannon, grinning all the while.
I shuddered. “Okay, ropes and balance beams aside, you searched Ray's room and didn't find the Diva. Right?”
He nodded. “Do you mind if we move away just a tad from the serpents? They freeze the bloody blood in every one of my veins. I'd love to tell you about the rest of my day, just not next door to the lads here. Or lasses. I have no desire to get close enough to check name tags.”
One of the snakes must have heard him. It uncoiled itself, raised a flat head, then butted the cage. Brig grabbed me. “We'll be off then, before this one learns how to get through the feeder.”
I gazed at him as we hurried away from the snake cage.
“What is it with you and snakes? A holdover from
Indiana Jones
movies? Or is it an Irish thing? Saint Paddy ridding the island of the slithering evil serpents?”
We were outside of the tent. Brig took a deep breath.
“Nothing so glamorous. I got bit by two rattlers in the wilds of Texas about two years back. Not a pleasant feeling, I can tell you. And it stayed with me. As did the treatment to get rid of a few poisons. Ouch and ouch.”
“What were you doing in Texas? Aside from bonding with rattlesnakes, that is.”
“Work.”
Terrific. Doubtless a tale of infamy and deceit. I pitied the rattlers. One bite out of Brig O'Brien's treacherous, albeit muscular and tempting, ass had undoubtedly sent them into shock for the rest of their natural lives.
With much effort, I pulled my thoughts away from the bottom portion of Brig's anatomy. He kept smiling at me. I was certain he was reading my thoughts and storing them up to use against me some wild night. Which could be fun.
“Did I tell you the other part of the Saraswati legend? The one concerning the snakes?”
I groaned, “There's more?”
“Oh yeah. When the statue hears a snake hiss in her presence, she makes the choice as to her true owner. Immediately. So if a snake hisses and there are two people present who want Saraswati, one might get hit with the curse and the other blessed on the spot. She's a very smart goddess, our Diva.”
“Right. Like I really buy this particular tall tale.”
Brig smiled. “Ah, Tempe, you'll be a believer by the time we get Saraswati into the right hands. And hopefully I'll be well out of range of any serpents helping the Diva choose. Which she will.”
“And that's coming when? Oh, never mind. I know you won't tell me. Okay. No more talk of curses or blessings. And definitely no more snakes. So, what happened after you left Ray's? No, wait. Back up. How did you choose to exit?”
“The balcony again. In case any of those suspicious types you were so worried about might be gazing up at the building. Better to leave the same way one comes in.”
Frightening, but logical. I nodded. “Go on.”
“Ah. Yes. I next paid a visit to Mahindra's flat.”
I groaned. “You know where he lives?”
“Well, certainly. I know you think everyone involved with Shiva's Diva has psychic powers. That they gaze into some crystal ball and the whereabouts of all concerned pop up on demand. I considered trying to impress you; make you think I came by Mahindra's address through brilliant means of detection, but the truth of it is quite simple. The man's listed in the directory. I looked him up.”
We smiled at each other. He continued, “I will admit, Mahindra's place of residence made it a bit trickier to do any spying. First off, Kirk's flat is in a high-rise. Close to Flora Fountain. A bloomin' twenty-nine story tower. You might know the man would choose to live in an ostentatious skyscraper. Painted gold outside, mind you. So much for taste. At heart he's nothing but a showy gangster.”
“So?”
“So, what?”
“Honestly, O'Brien, you are an annoying man. Did you get into Kirk's flat, and if so, how? And if you did, did you find Shiva's Diva?”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No to all of the above. I did not get in. Consequently, I did not find Shiva's Diva.”
“Oh poo. So Mahindra may have it. Well, I guess that's better than Patel, who doesn't even have the wit to try and be genteel about his crimes.”
Brig shook his head. “You're jumping to conclusions. I said I didn't get inside. What you didn't let me get to is that I
did
meet Mr. Mahindra outside. He very kindly informed me that the statue did not reside in his possession and that he had no idea who'd claimed the prize at the end of the battle.”

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