3 Bad Guys Get Caught (22 page)

Just then, Ham came back into the room.
“Now that Falk’s gone, we can get down to the more exciting stuff, like your
bonuses.”

Dennis cocked an eyebrow. “Now that
sounds like a worthy topic.”

“Dennis!” Janet nudged him. “He’s only
yanking your chain, Ham, we love working for you.”

Ham nodded. “Thank you, Janet. I know
you do, but I also know that good work has to be rewarded. So, in light of your
exemplary performance, I’d like to offer you both partnership stakes at Kirk
& Associates—”

“Ham!” Janet exclaimed.

“I wasn’t finished.” Ham grinned. “You
will both receive bonuses of three hundred thousand dollars each. What do you
say… are we partners?”

“Yes.” Janet nodded.

“We sure are,” Dennis joined in. “We’re
looking forward to solving many more cases with you.”

“I’m sure we will be very busy.” Ham
rubbed his hands. “The two of you have become something of a legend. Two
operations in one night and both a success!”

“So what’s our next case?” Janet asked.

“Easy there, Janet. I promise I’ll have
your desk piling up with papers in no time, but not until the two of you take a
well-deserved vacation.” Ham slid an envelope across the table. “It will take a
little time to process the bonuses, but this I could do right away. The two of
you are going to Tahiti for ten days. All the details are in there.”

“Ham, that’s so generous of you!” Janet
exclaimed. “I don’t know what to say.”

Dennis opened the envelope and examined
its contents. “I know. Thank you, Ham! Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have to
pack. Our plane leaves tonight.”

“The FBI might need us for questioning,”
Janet worried.

“Janet, do you honestly think I planned
this without checking with Falk first? He gave me the green light. Bon voyage.
I’ll see you both in two weeks.”

***

Several hours later, Janet and Dennis
were on the plane, seated in business class seats. Ham must’ve been really
worried about the FBI luring them away to have pulled out all the stops like
that. They packed in such a hurry that Janet had been worried they might not
make the flight. She was real grateful to Mrs. Chapman who was only too glad to
take Baxter for two weeks on such a short notice. Apparently, Baxter had
developed a penchant for “singing” along to Mrs. Chapman’s piano playing, and
she had a series of “duets” planned for them. She had plans to perform with
Baxter at the local community center and even bought a little tuxedo for him.
Baxter had modeled it proudly right before Janet and Dennis took off for the
airport, making Janet feel guilty about missing the show, but Mrs. Chapman
promised to videotape the whole thing.

“Would you like anything to drink?” the
stewardess asked them.

“Yes, two glasses of champagne, please,”
Dennis replied. “You don’t mind champagne, do you Janet?” he asked.

“Of course not.” Janet smiled.

The stewardess returned with their
drinks. “Here you are. We should be ready for takeoff in about fifteen
minutes.”

“Isn’t this perfect?” Dennis raised his
glass.

Janet eyed the fizzing champagne bubbles
in her glass. “Yes.” They clinked their glasses.

“Come here, you.” Dennis wrapped his arm
around her shoulders, pulling her into a long kiss.

The stewardess passed by their seats.
“Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for takeoff.”

Dennis pulled away reluctantly. “Once we
land, I’m going to make love to you nonstop.”

“Are you challenging me to a sex
marathon, Dennis Walker? ‘cause if you are, I’m totally up for it.”

“Do you have to turn everything into a
challenge, Janet?”

“Only the fun things.”

“In that case, you’re on.”

The plane’s engines roared as it glided
into motion. Janet grabbed Dennis’s hand. “Takeoff is my favorite part. Makes
me feel like I’m a kid in an adventure park.”

Dennis brought her hand to his lips.
“You’re amazing. You know that?”

“You’re pretty amazing too, Dennis.”

As the plane took off, Janet let her
mind wander to the events of last night. Despite Falk’s concerns, she wasn’t
suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. It might come back to haunt her
later, but for now, she found it surprisingly easy to move past her emotionally
charged experience during the FBI raid. She knew the reason behind her seamless
recovery: it was thanks to Dennis being by her side. The memory of last night
was still with her.

Since the two of them had been together
Dennis had made love to her countless times, but none had been as intense as
last night, and it wasn’t because of her adrenaline affected state. She’d be
the first to admit that her senses were heightened last night, but there was
more to it than that. The ecstasy of the physical encounter had been off the
charts, but the intimacy between them had been simply spellbinding. She had
never felt as close to Dennis as she had last night, when he told her that he
loved her. It didn’t matter that he’d fallen asleep before he heard her say
that she loved him too; there’d be plenty of chances for her to tell him.

Mila Brabec hit the snooze button on the
alarm clock and rolled over to the other side of the bed. A few more minutes
and she would get up and get ready for work. She’d zonked out for an afternoon
nap, but it was four o’clock now, and she had to be at work at five. She loved
her job, which was a new thing, but a surprisingly good sensation for her. She
loved waking up in her own bed; no man to foot her bills or buy her presents,
but only herself to count on and only herself to answer to. It was a scary
feeling, but it was also liberating.

Mila swung her legs to the side and got
up. She stretched lazily and headed over to the bathroom, which she reached in
three steps. The entire apartment was no more than twenty feet in length, but
it was her own. Well, technically it was a rental, but as long as she paid the
rent, she considered it her own. She had furnished it with furniture from IKEA
and kept it clean and cozy. The building had an elevator, and most importantly,
it was walking distance to her job, which considering the amount of hours she
was putting in was a big plus. Mila didn’t mind the long hours; it felt
different working for herself. She turned on the water in the shower and got
in. She relished the hot spray on her skin. It was as though she was
rediscovering every sensation for herself; even the most mundane things had
acquired new dimensions, filling her days with countless small pleasures. When
one spends over a month in a tiny hotel room with no one else for company but a
bunch of very terse FBI agents, one’s perspective on life is bound to change.

She knew she was lucky to get the deal
that she got. Now, thinking back, it scared her to realize how stupid she had
been. She had been playing with fire, and she was lucky to escape with only the
tips of her hair singed. She did get some money after all; not the ten million
she’d set her eyes on, but one hundred thousand, courtesy of the FBI.
Apparently, they thought her input worthy of some reward after all. Of course
if she had come to the FBI of her own volition, she would have gotten a cool
million, which was the reward for information on Muller’s money. Not that Mila
had been aware of its existence in the first place; she wasn’t in the habit of
surfing FBI websites. As it were, the FBI rescinded the reward, but saw it fit
to pay her a sum of one hundred thousand as part of the witness protection
program so that she could get back on her feet. She thought it was mighty
generous of them, and they also took care of her visa. After all, that fella
Dennis didn’t get anything, or at least that was what he had told her. She
hadn’t heard from him since and neither had she heard from Janet, not that she
wanted to. That part of her life was over, and she didn’t want anything or
anyone from her past to remind her of it.

The only person she kept in touch with
was Amy. “Kept in touch” was really too loose a term; they saw each other every
day. They kind of had to since they owned a bar together. The FBI’s reward had
been enough for Mila to get a minority partnership stake in Amy’s new bar. At
first Amy was going to call it Amy’s, but when Mila asked her about partnering
up, Amy insisted on changing it to Amy and Mila’s. Mila was surprised by how
much she enjoyed the work. Her waitressing experience had paid off; she knew
how to keep the clients happy and keep them coming back for more. Maybe this
had been her calling from the beginning: not finance, not modeling, not being
some rich guy’s wife, but running a bar, serving good drinks, and shooting the
breeze with the customers. She liked it just fine.

But most importantly, for the first time
since she came to New York, Mila liked her life as it was. Sure, there were
still things she wanted: to pay off the mortgage on the bar, to own her own
apartment, to make Amy and Mila’s the hottest bar in New York. She no longer
thought of her current life as temporary; she was living every moment of it,
keenly aware of all its flavors and sensations. She fought with every fiber of
her being to make her goals a reality.

Mila toweled off and got out of the
shower. She dressed into a simple attire of jeans and a knit top, applied a
dusting of powder to her face and a coat of mascara to her eyelashes and was
out the door.

Fifteen minutes later, Mila walked into
Amy and Mila’s. Amy was already behind the bar, checking on the liquor
supplies.

“Hey there, partner,” Amy called over
her shoulder.

“How is it looking?” Mila asked, joining
Amy behind the bar stand.

“If things keep up at this rate we’ll
have to double our restocking schedule. I think tonight’s bachelorette party
will make a big dent. I’d better go downstairs and order a few more cases right
now.”

“Sounds good.” Mila got started on
shelving the glasses. During the month that they had been in business, things
had been going surprisingly well. The atmosphere at Amy and Mila’s was casual,
but hip, attracting a mixed crowd of young professionals, students and those
who considered themselves to always be young at heart.

Mila glanced at the clock: it was five
p.m. They had about an hour before the after work crowd would pile in. Just
then the door opened.

“Come on in, we’re open!” Mila called
over to the hesitant customer.

“Mila?” Ania Brabec walked into the bar.

Mila didn’t flinch. “Hi there, Ania. So
I see you finally decided to take me up on my offer to stop by.” She had not
seen Ania for two months; she didn’t tell her about the whole ordeal with the
FBI. Instead she invented a story that she was taking a trip to visit the
national parks to clear her mind and get over the breakup with Anton. She had
told her cousin about the bar as soon as she had gotten out of protective custody,
but Ania had not deemed to stop by until now.

“I was in the neighborhood.” Ania
shifted on her feet. She looked like she had gained some weight since Mila had
seen her last; must be all those French restaurants she was so fond of.

“Mila, do you need help over there?”
Amy’s voice was shrill with concern as she came back upstairs.

“I’m fine,” Mila called over.

Amy got the hint. “I’m going back to the
stockroom to check on supplies. Call me if you need me.”

“Will do.” Mila shot her a grateful
smile. “Would you like a drink?” she asked Ania.

“I can’t stay long. Daniel will be here
any minute. I suppose I could have one drink.”

“What will it be?” Mila asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t really drink.
A glass of pinot noir?”

“Let me make you a cocktail.”

“Oh, no!” Ania protested. “I can’t drink
the strong stuff. It makes my face get all red.”

Mila knew it only too well. She
remembered how back in Prague, before Ania got married to her fancy husband,
she had had too many vodka shots at their cousin’s wedding and her face got
covered in purple blotches. Since then, Ania stuck to wine. “Don’t worry,” Mila
assured her. “I won’t make it too strong. It’s my personal recipe.”

Mila proceeded to mix the ingredients
for the cocktail of her own invention they had listed as “Flirty Mila” on the
cocktail menu. She could guess that Ania’s initial intent had been to embarrass
her by making her serve her. Ania had done it before when she had shown up at
Panther with Daniel and had Mila seat them at their table; Mila still remembered
the sting of shame she had felt at the time. Now it was Ania who was
embarrassed, and Mila was the one in command. This was her place, and Mila was
there because she wanted to be. Ania was nothing more but a guest there; Mila
would serve her just like she did her other customers, nothing more.

“Here, try it.” Mila slid the glass
towards Ania.

Ania tentatively raised the glass to her
lips and took a small sip. “Mmm, very nice!” She took a longer sip.

“Glad you like it.”

“What’s in it?”

“Rum and muddled cucumbers.”

“That’s it?”

“Plus a few other ingredients. If I
start giving away secrets of the trade, I won’t be a very good businesswoman,
will I?”

“So how is business?” Ania asked.

“It’s going well. We’ve been real busy.”

“It doesn’t look very busy now.”

Good old Ania, Mila thought, always
there to poke. “It’s early. In an hour this place will be packed.” Just then
the door opened and Mila smiled inwardly. This ought to shut Ania up.

“Daniel! Over here!” Ania twirled her
fingers. “Well, at least you got one more customer.”

Daniel Bauer’s rounded frame plodded
towards them. “Mila! How wonderful to see you!” Daniel smooched her with his
pudgy lips.

Out of politeness Mila resisted the urge
to wipe her cheek. She had never realized before that Daniel’s face with its
telescopic glasses very much resembled that of a fish. She wondered how Ania
kissed him; the idea seemed repulsive. “Would you like anything to drink,
Daniel?” she asked him.

“Oh, maybe a glass of white wine.”

“Ask her for one of her special
cocktails!” Ania raised her glass.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to put you through
any trouble. A glass of white will do just fine.”

“It’s no trouble, Daniel. I’ll be happy
to make it for you.” Mila mixed up the cocktail while Daniel looked around.
“Here you are.” She placed the glass in front of him.

“I’m parched from walking around the
city all day. I was looking for the subject for my new documentary.” Daniel took
a long swallow. “This is really excellent stuff.”

“Thanks.” Mila smiled. “I’m glad you
like it.”

The door opened and several people
walked in.

“Excuse me a moment.” Mila went over to
greet the new customers. Once she took their drink orders, she turned her
attention back to Ania and Daniel. “Would you like another drink?”

“Oh no, thank you,” Daniel replied.
“This is really quite excellent. I love the décor. It’s got real pizazz.”
Daniel eyed the combination of wooden paneling, exposed brick, and tiled mosaics.
“Did you hire a decorator?”

Mila shook her head. “We did it all
ourselves.” Amy had done all the decorating, or in other words, left as much of
the original detail as possible. The exposed brick came with the place, but
they added the paneling and the mosaics.

“You should’ve called me,” Ania cut in.
“I could’ve recommended a decorator.”

“I think it’s a good thing that she
didn’t, dear.” Daniel patted Ania’s hand. “You’ve got an amazing place here. I
just got an idea! Why don’t I do my next documentary about your bar?” exclaimed
Daniel with a sweeping gesture.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s such a good
idea. That’s not your usual subject matter,” Ania butted in.

“Precisely!” Daniel exclaimed. “It’s
time I changed things up. What do you say, Mila?”

“What do you say to what?” Amy had
joined the conversation before Mila had a chance to reply.

“Daniel wants to do a documentary on
us,” Mila explained.

“I think I could get it aired on PBS,”
Daniel added proudly.

“Hell, yeah!” Amy’s voice was filled
with excitement. “Maybe you could get it aired on the Food Network also.”

“That’s an excellent idea!” Daniel
adjusted his glasses. “I didn’t even think of that. I have a friend there who’s
in charge of programming. I will give him a call. It will introduce my
documentary to a whole new market. I’m going to start making some notes right
now.” Daniel got off his chair and began examining the walls, as though hoping
to find inspiration for his script there.

“Super! It would be really great
exposure for us!” Amy cheered. “High five, Mila!”

The only one looking unhappy was Ania
who merely pursed her lips and sipped her drink.

“Would you like another drink?” Mila
asked her cousin.

Ania shook her head. “No, thank you. I
think it’s time for us to get going, Daniel. We don’t want to be late for
dinner with the Watkins.”

“Isn’t that tomorrow?” Daniel asked,
clearly reluctant to leave.

“No, it’s today,” Ania insisted.

“I’m pretty sure it’s tomorrow. In any
case we can’t leave without Philip.” Daniel sat back in his chair with an airy
of finality.

“Who is Philip?” Ania asked.

“An old friend of mine,” Daniel’s voice
grew impatient.

Ania didn’t give up. “Well why is he
coming here?”

“Because I wanted him to meet Mila. It
was supposed to be a surprise,” Daniel snapped.

Mila felt a stab of irritation. A few
months ago she would’ve jumped at the offer, but now she no longer had time for
Daniel Bauer’s snotty friends. “Oh, Daniel, thank you. You needn’t worry about
me. I’m doing just fine.”

“You see?” Ania added. “I’m sure Mila
has to fend off suitors with a stick in here.”

“Yes she does,” Amy said defensively.

“Amy!” Mila flushed. Discussing her
personal life in front of Ania and Daniel was unpleasant to say the least.

“It’s true!” Amy persisted. “There’s
this banker guy who’s been coming here three times a week, begging Mila to go
out with him. He even offered to invest in our bar, but she wouldn’t budge.
He’s real hot; I’d sleep with him. There were plenty others, too.”