Gray Night (20 page)

 He wore a pinstriped vest and matching fedora, cutting an image any dwarven mobster would be proud of.

 “I don’t see no coffee,” he complained again.

 “Shut up, Benji,” said John, closing the door behind us.

 “Hey, that’s Mr. King to you. Don’t be disrespectful. Who’s the dame?” asked Benji, pointing at me.

 “This is Ms. Spurling and she would like to talk to you. Ms. Spurling, this is Benjamin King,” John said, making introductions before sitting down.

 “Dr. Spurling,” I corrected, walking around to Mr. King and extending my hand. “Dr. Claire Spurling, from the Museum of Natural History.”

 “Oh wow, yeah. Heard about that. Heard it was real nasty too. Old guy and the security guards right?” he reached out to clasp my hand.

 What began as a handshake turned into me violently knocking the little guy’s hat off.

 “Hey!” Benji yelped. “What was that for? What’d I say? I’m making friendly conversation here, what the heck?”

 “Heck?” asked John.

 “Yeah, heck. I don’t swear no more. Swore off swearing you could say. Old lady says she’s pregnant and ain’t raisin’ a tiny hellspawn like everyone else these days with no discipline. Says if he turns out a foul-mouthed brat because of me, she’s kicking me out. I tell you what, I may not be squeaky clean or nothing, but my boy ain’t growing up without a father. That shit ain’t happening,” he said, winding himself up.

 “Ahhh, damn it! I did it again!” he hammered at the table. “I was doing real good and now you gone and provoked me!” he snapped.

 I liked Benji. If he was a Latin American scholar, I didn’t see it, but he seemed, I don’t know, genuine. I liked genuine people. Even when they were rude.

 “I apologize, Mr. King. I—”

 He cut me off. “Nah, I wasn’t thinking. You’re from the museum so you probably worked together or something and I’m being all insensitive.”

 “Yes. We worked together. I…I found them. I was the first person there yesterday morning and called the police.” I fought down the first few images that came to mind from that morning.

 “Ahh geez that’s terrible. No, that’s awful. Hey, this one time my best friend and I were playing out by his dad’s shed and we decide to break in and mess around with some of the stuff, being boys you know, and when we get in there—”

 “Benji!” snapped John.

 “Hey, I told you don’t call me that,” he said, leaning down to grab his hat.

 I took a seat next to him. “Mr. King,” I said softly.

 Benji put his hat on and pointed at me, nodding at John. “At least someone knows how to be proper and civil like.”

 “Mr. King, I would like to ask you some questions if you wouldn’t mind,” I told him.

 “So what’s your business in all this? Museum wanting its own investigation right? Well I’ll tell you the same thing I told Johnny Boy here—”

 “Detective Harris,” John interrupted.

 “Respect is a two way street,” Benji said.

 I nodded at John, then toward the door.

 “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. He’s just going to keep screwing around. This is a waste of time,” John said.

 “If it’s such a waste of time then five minutes wasting it outside won’t cost you more than doing it in here,” I said.

 I thought the pulsating vein in the middle of his forehead was going to explode, but after a few seconds he checked his watch, said “five minutes,” and left the room.

 “You got some balls lady,” Benji said. “But I’m not getting involved any more than I already am. You and Detective Harris can believe anything you want, but I don’t know nothing about those murders.”

 I looked right at him. I had to have his help. “Why did Detective Harris bring you in?”

 “Grasping at straws far as I can tell. My reputation precedes me and it ain’t always appreciated by some people.”

 “Some people meaning the police?”

 “Exactly. My business keeps me in a certain crowd you could say operates in shades of gray. Something happens in my field, I get a visit from the local constabulary.”

 “And what field is that exactly?”

 “Why did you come here to talk to me if you don’t even know who I am?”

 “Sam Ellison said I should see you. Said you were a freelance consultant in antiquities. One of the best,” I said leaning forward.

 “You’re darn right I’m one of the best. Good man Sam. We go way back. What’s his interest in all this?”

 “Sam and I work together. In fact we just finished a project a couple of days ago.”

 “Oh yeah that’s great. Always thought he was better suited for the field stuff than in a classroom. Where were you guys at?”

 “The Yucatan,” I said.

 “Oh. Ohhhh,” Benji said, leaning back and scrunching up his face.

 Aha. I’d struck a chord. “While ago you said you didn’t want more involved than you already were. So what all are you involved in Mr. King?”

 He shifted around in his seat. “Nothing. I’m not involved in nothing. Look, you seem like a first-class lady and you know, any friend of Sam’s and all, but I’m not having anything to do with this. I’m all kinds of sorry those guys got killed like that and I hope whoever did it rots in hell, but I’m telling you, I don’t know anything about who did it. You people can keep me here long as you want and it won’t change nothing.”

 “Maybe, but you know something don’t you? You’re trying too hard to be cool about not knowing anything and are way too anxious to be out of here. And you have repeated several times, specifically, how you know nothing about the murder. Yet you have carefully avoided saying anything about the artifacts that were stolen.” I was on the right track now, I was sure of it, until my phone buzzed.

 “Excuse me,” I opened my purse and dug out the phone. I didn’t get to it in time. The missed call was the cell number Adrian had given me. He probably was sitting in Nick’s office waiting for me to pick him up. A small, and admittedly petty, part of me wanted to ignore him so he could spend some quality time waiting in the office while I did something important just like he’d left me the day before. But he didn’t deserve that. Not after last night.

 “Who was that?” Benji asked.

 “Oh it’s my, I guess partner isn’t the right word, but someone the museum hired to work with me. You could say he’s freelance like you.”

 “Freelance like me? Lady, ain’t nobody out there like me,” Benji said with a grin.

 “I’ll be sure to tell Adrian.”

 His lack of an immediate response gave me pause enough to notice the flash of curiosity across his face.

 “What?” I asked.

 “Working with a guy named Adrian, huh?” he said with a nervous laugh.

 “Adrian Knight, yeah. He contracts with the museum sometimes. Why?”

 Benji’s color became a starker contrast to his dark hat and vest as his blood retreated.

“Ummm, no reason?” he asked more than stated.

 “Benji?” I said, sharpening his name towards the end like my mother would.

 “Ahh,” he growled, taking his hat off and wrestling with it like he was trying to choke it into submission. “I knew I shouldn’t have taken that stupid phone call! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

 “You knew what? What are you talking about? What phone call? What does Adrian have to do with any of this?”

 “Nothing I know of. It just figures that’s all! I can’t believe it. Freakin’ Adrian Knight. We’re done here,” he said standing.

 “Wait. Why? What’s going on?” I stood as soon as he did. I couldn’t let him leave yet. There was clearly something going on here.

 “You don’t tell him my name. You never saw me and I don’t know nothing okay.”

 I reached out and took his hand before he moved again.

 “Someone killed one of my best friends and I don’t know who or why. Someone tried to kill me last night. Would have if not for Adrian. He saved my life. And he is trying to find out who’s responsible.” I couldn’t stop all the memories and my eyes watered, but I kept my voice steady. Benji couldn’t just leave. He was my only lead and he knew something. I know he did.

 “Aww come on. Why do you people have to cry? It ain’t fair when you cry,” Benji said fidgeting with his hat some more and looking longingly at the door.

 “Whoever did this is getting away with it and there is nothing I can do about it without you. We would owe you so much. Please Mr. King.” I let go of his arm but kept looking right into his eyes.

 He stood there for a moment reaching back and rubbing the back of his neck. “You’d owe me, huh?”

 “Yes. I would be in your debt. And, if it helps, I would owe you a really, really big one,” I said with a hopeful smile.

 “We,” he emphasized.

 “What?”

 “While ago you said
we
would owe you. Not
I
.”

 “Yes. Yes, we would owe you one. Adrian and I.”

 Benji stared at the floor, thinking.

 “All right, all right, all right, I don’t know that it’ll help, but I have a condition.”

 “Go on,” I said, stepping closer.

 He took a second to straighten his hat back on his head and brush off his vest. “First, you stop crying.”

 I took a deep breath and nodded.

 He smiled and wagged a finger at me. “And Adrian Knight owes me a favor.”

 “What kind of favor? What do you want him to do?”

 “No. A marker I can call in sometime,” he looked up into my eyes. “A big one.”

 I didn’t know what he had in mind, but it honestly did not matter. We needed him and he knew it. “I—okay. Yes. I’ll make sure of it.”

 Benji gave me a questioning look.

 “He’ll do it for this. I’ll make him understand. He’ll do it,” I said nodding.

 “And you don’t tell Johnny Boy nothing until I’m out the building.”

 I didn’t like it. He could say anything at all to avoid police custody, but that wasn’t the vibe I got from him. He was scared. Hesitant. Besides, I didn’t have anything else to go on.

 “Okay,” I said. “But if I find out you lied…”

 Benji stopped looking so worried and unconsciously licked his lips once or twice before sliding a chair out with his foot for me. He swung another around and sat when I did.

 “You may not have known me, Dr. Spurling, but I know you,” he leaned toward me.

 The way he said it was unsettling. Not in a creepy stalkerish way, but rather his demeanor changed. I got the feeling the annoying weasely attitude hid a sharper mind.

 “I mean I’ve followed your work. You and others in and around the city. Around the Northeast for that matter. It’s a hobby of mine you could say. I read about your work in Central America and I can’t tell you how much I was looking forward to seeing the new exhibit open yesterday. You and your team do good work.”

 “Thank you,” I said not sure what else to say.

 “The paper didn’t say what items were missing, but I…well, I recognized them when I saw them. This morning.”

 My mental jaw dropped to the floor as I jerked forward. “What did you see? Which ones?” I asked. I didn’t want to give him specifics, if the paper hadn’t, just to see if he was for real.

 “Like I said, I don’t know what all was taken, but I saw the manuscript. That’s really what matters anyhow isn’t it?”

 I’d have collapsed if I wasn’t sitting. The book. He’d seen the book. This morning.

 “There were other objects with it. Some obsidian ritual instruments and gold jewelry. Really stunning work. Well preserved. However, seeing that manuscript was something else. I wanted to tear into it and try deciphering it right there,” he said with the same childish grin I had when we first opened it and realized what it was.

 “Where? Where did you see it? Who had it? Who called you this morning? Were they the ones who stole it or did they get it from someone else?” I asked in a rush.

 “Right, like I said, I saw them all and figured pretty fast where they’d come from. They asked me to come down and authenticate a few pieces. It’s part of what I do. If I had known what it was I’d be looking at, I wouldn’t have gone to begin with, but since I was there, and had taken the people’s money, I went through with it. They were genuine. I confirmed it and then got the hell out,” Benji said matter-of-factly.

 “Who called you to authenticate?”

 Benji raised his hands. “I don’t know. No names. Not ever. Nobody I’d ever worked with before neither.”

 “So, you verified it’s the real thing?”

 “Yeah, that’s right. It’ll go for a pretty penny for sure and I got the impression there was no shortage of buyers on the line. Pretty sure it was one of them who hired me before they dish out all that cash tomorrow night,” said Benji.

 “Tomorrow? What happens tomorrow night?”

 “The Auction.”

 “An auction?”

 “No,” he said with widening eyes. “The Auction. Capital A. Ain’t never been and not going to start now.”

 “But they said it would be held tomorrow night? Did they say where?” I asked.

 “No. No they didn’t say nothing, but I’ve heard things the past couple of days. It’s tomorrow night. Don’t know where. And don’t ask me to find out neither because they won’t say and will take offense to me even asking. It’s invitation only. Just for the big boys.”

 “So it hasn’t been sold yet. The Auction hasn’t happened. And whoever is running the Auction has the artifacts. So whoever is behind the Auction is either directly responsible for the theft, and thereby the murders, or they got them directly from the source. It couldn’t have changed hands more than once or twice in that time,” I said, thinking out loud.

 I gave Benji a quick kiss on the cheek and for the second time he didn’t have a response. I laughed. “Thanks Benji.”

 “Our deal is thanks enough, but you’re welcome,” he said standing.

 Harris opened the door and leaned in. “What deal?”

Chapter Eighteen

 I turned to face him. “Benji and I have an arrangement. Part of it is he walks away before I tell you what he said.”

 “What? You don’t have the authority to make that call!”

 Which was true, but that wouldn’t help anyone right now. Neither would making John angrier than he already was. I walked over and touched his arm. “He gave us something to work with, a lead we can look into from both sides of the investigation, but it’s dangerous and he wants out of the way.”