| STORY 2 Page 6 |
| told them. Jonathan instantly looked contrite. "Sorry, old mum." He looked over at Rick then, who still watched out the window. At first Evie thought he'd say something to Rick, but he didn't, so she didn't press the fact. It just hurt to think, that since this whole thing had started Jonathan and Rick's friendship seemed to suffer. Ten o'clock came and went without any fanfare. Ten-thirty, Eleven o�clock, Eleven-thirty, Twelve and still no sign of Charles Sonderburg. By now Rick and Jonathan were both antsy, both starring out the window with their heads together and whispering. No doubt plotting something. Rick said something, Jonathan nodded and Rick picked up the phone on her desk and dialed a number. The message was cryptic. "I need you...Meet me out front...Ten minutes." He kissed Evie on the forehead and told her, before she had a chance to ask what he was going to do. "Stay put," then turning he and Jonathan headed out the door. "RICK!" "Stay here!" She went to the window and wished she hadn't when she saw him lift the trunk lid and pull out the Colt and check it's chamber. "What are you getting into now?" she whispered. Fifteen minutes later the Beauford pulled up in front of a stately old Victorian home lined with English Oaks on Broadmore. Rick and Jonathan climbed out of the front and Ardeth exited the back. "Okay, he was supposed to show at ten," Rick said again for the umpteenth time, as he slid the gun inside his waistband. "Last night when he came to the manor, he was pretty jumpy. Something had him spooked." "I remember speaking with him in Cairo, after the old man's murder and he was upset then. He told me he was returning to England, that he had to visit someone, but he didn't say it was your family," Ardeth told him. "Let's face it, old chap," John piped up," If I didn't know you from Adam, with that perpetual frown on your face all the time and you came asking me questions about a dead man, one that I might add was murdered, I don't think I'd tell you anything either!" To prove Jonathan's point, Ardeth scowled at him and walked off to follow Rick up the steps. "See! See! I rest my case!" Rick knocked on the large door and stopped dead when it swung slowly open with a creak, to reveal a darkened interior. "Dammit, this is not good." Instinct said, 'Back away. Go home. Uh-uh. Nope. Not today buddy.' As he pulled out the Colt and cocked the trigger, he knew this was one of those days, when not paying attention, was going to land him in trouble. "Knock! Knock! Anybody home?" Even to him it sounded lame. "Man I hate this! You two stay behind me." Then he grumbled under his breath," I don't wanna accidentally shoot Jon. Evie would really get mad then." "And so would he," came the British accent from behind. "You keep talking chucklehead, and I just might make an acceptation in your case. Now pipe down," he half hissed as he crossed the threshold. The outer hallway was dark, due to the heavy draperies. How anyone could live with out sunlight was beyond him. Not to mention it was musty in here. The place needed a damned good airing out he thought. The place reeked. Reeked? Instinct Number Two. ALWAYS Obey Instinct Number One. "DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!" "What?" came two voices in unison. "Take a whiff. That ain't Sunday pot roast!" He took another step forward, slipped in the dark and cussed as he went sprawling to the floor. "Dammit to hell!" Ardeth knelt by his side. "Are you alright, ahi?" "Yeah, what the hell was that," he asked half jokingly, "The body?" "Ah...ah..." was just about all Jonathan could get out. Rick knew by the shock in Jonathan's voice that, that was exactly what it was. "Sonderburg?" "Uh...huh." "Jonathan, stay there. Ardeth, see if you can find a damned light switch and close the front door! We don't need the neighborhood coming by to drop in for tea and cookies," Rick growled. Then under his breath he mumbled, "I don't think our host is in the mood to bake any today." Once the door was closed and Ardeth flipped on a switch, Rick wished he hadn't. There was an audible gasp from Jon and Ardeth had come to a complete stand still. Still sitting where he had fallen, Rick looked up into their faces, who were now looking at him and back to the body. Not once had he looked for it when the light came on, there would be time to do that, once he was up. He turned slowly and almost put his hands on the floor. It took his mind only a second to register what he saw. "Uh-huh! Ardeth! Give me a hand here! NOW PLEASE!" Ardeth reached down and clasped Rick by the forearm and pulled. "You still have it all over your hands," he told Rick. "And...on your...pants..." Jonathan stammered. Poor Jonathan looked like a new sheet. Rick looked at his hands then and his pants. Blood! "Great. Just great! Look I gotta get this off. I can't...I'll..." he walked farther down the hall. "Where is the damned kitchen!" He disappeared and came back a short time later to find that Ardeth and John had also disappeared. "Okay, you guys, this is not funny. Where the hell did you go?" He listened for a minute and heard muffled voices, off to his right, behind a heavy oak door. "The place looks like a bloody bomb went off in here! What the duce do you suppose they were looking for?" Jonathan seemed to have gotten over his shock pretty well. Probably had a lot to do with the placement of the body, in relation to Jonathan. He was in there and Sonderburg was out here. Rick looked at the body and shrugged, "Hey. No offence but, I'm with Jon on this one." He turned the knob and went inside. The room indeed looked like a bomb went off inside it. Pictures hung at odd angles, drawers had been pulled out, papers scattered everywhere, furniture over turned and the cushions ripped to shreds. Somebody was looking for something and Rick knew what it was. The papers and letters Sonderburg was going to give Evie! These guys were thorough and he bet the rest of the house looked just like this. Well, that was that, he thought. Another dead end. Hell. "What the...BLOODY HELL!" Rick and Ardeth both looked at Jonathan in time to watch him get his feet tangled in a Persian carpet and go sprawling ass over tea kettle to the hardwood floor. Rick knelt on one side, Ardeth on another. "Are you alright, Jon?" He looked up at Rick, aggravation in his eyes. "Hell of a place to put a rug, I must say." "It could have been worse," Rick shrugged. "Could have been Sonderburg." Jonathan paled once again and swallowed with a nod to his head. "Rick. Look." He and Jonathan both turned their heads to look at Jonathan's feet. "Is that what I think that is?" Rick asked. "By Job, it a floor safe!" Jonathan exclaimed, crawling the short distance. "And look, it hasn't been opened." What Rick was thinking would get them tossed in the big house, but what the hell? In for a penny, in for a pound. "Jonathan you think you can open it?" Jonathan looked at him, like he'd sprouted another head. "ARE YOU DAFT?" he squeaked. "Look, Sonderburg was going to bring those letters and papers this morning right? The ones that belonged to Aswad what�s-his-name? What if this Skarzinski was looking for them and he couldn't find them, so he killed the old man. And what if, he had them hid here in the safe? Look Jon, you said yourself the safe wasn't open. What if they're still in there? The question is, Jon...Who is going to benefit more from them? You and your sister or Skarzinski?" Ten minutes later the safe was open. "There's nothing in here but an old journal and a couple old bonds and WHATS THIS? HELLO!" Jonathan said pulling out an old leather wallet. He opened it up and a picture fell out. He picked it up and looked at the couple and the baby in the woman's arms. He squinched up his nose and handed it to Rick, saying, "Homely little bugger, isn't he? I fancy they tied a lamb chop around his neck to get the dog to play with him." |