Gray Night (25 page)

 Adrian and I left the shelter and caught up with Brandon to compare notes. His efforts were as fruitless as ours, and he left soon after to call everyone in and see what they had found. He wanted to keep going into the night, but Adrian talked him out of it.

 I knew how he felt. It was difficult walking away when there’s more to do. But they were pushing themselves hard and needed to be ready to go come morning. Adrian and I had as well, him more than me, and it was past time to go. I said so, and Adrian tossed me the keys to his car.

 I started it up while Adrian reached into the backseat, grabbing the folder I’d brought from Nick’s office.

 “This it?” he asked.

 “That’s it,” I said. “Where to?”

 He thought for a second, looked at his watch, and smiled. “Swing back by The Box.”

 “Forget something?”

 “Yeah. Dinner.”

 After The Box, where the huge, satisfied man behind the counter charged a small fortune for a meal-to-go without even taking our order, Adrian asked if I remembered the way back.

 He meant back to his place. Under normal circumstances I would be put off by something so presumptuous, but normal was on vacation. Besides, we had tons of material to cover on the artifacts and it would be my luck to find Ruby, find the Auction, get into the Auction, and then Adrian pass right over everything and not recognize them. Not to mention the fun discussion that was on hold about him keeping things from me. He had good reasons, or thought he did anyway, and that had been the only thing preventing his verbal destruction. We still needed to talk about it and discuss plans for things going forward a number of different ways.

 And any other reason I could think of to justify not being alone for the night. My strength slipped away with the last light of day and I knew keeping busy with work would help. Not that we couldn’t do that at my place, but all I had to look forward to there was being left alone to a tiny shower, clothes that needed washing, and a cold bed. With Adrian I had an intriguing manor as mysterious as its owner, more security than I’d felt anywhere in months, and a big beautiful copper bathtub.

 “Of course,” I said.

 He smiled and turned away to look out the window.

 I had the sneaking suspicion he knew all that as well and had avoided giving me the option to protect my pride. Then again, the look of unreserved lust he directed at the paper bags with our dinner in it I hadn’t seen directed at me in years. He was probably just hungry and wanted to get home to eat. Yeah, that made more sense.

 We went west and hit Highway 9 north along the Hudson. I drove under the speed limit taking in the lights and sounds of the city until the traffic and buildings gave way to quieter neighborhoods and eventually something almost resembling a countryside. I loved traveling and taking assignments in summer, but every other time of the year and New York is hard to beat.

 Forty-five minutes later I turned off a county road into a thicket of trees that almost obscured the old gravel drive now dominated with grass. It was a long and winding driveway, and pleasant when I wasn’t navigating it at forty miles an hour in a panic. It opened into a small circle drive that I suspect a long time ago had been a much larger courtyard, designed for carriages, now overgrown in front of the manor. I said as much.

 “Yes, it is. Most of the property is, was anyway, landscaped all the way back to the road,” he said, grabbing our dinner and getting out.

 “All the way to the road?” I asked, reaching into the back to grab my things and getting out as well. All the way to the road would mean several acres at the least.

 “I haven’t explored all of it, but the entire estate appears landscaped originally.”

 “These old Nineteenth century estates along the Hudson are incredible. It’s one of those things, you know, that you always want to go and do and never seem to find the time.”

 “Always want to go and do what?”

 “See all of them. Explore the Gilded Age ruins and spend a day wondering about the people that lived there.”

 “With that kind of enthusiasm for adventuring amongst the long lost things of the world you should be an archaeologist or something,” he said.

 I smiled.

 The front door opened before Adrian knocked. “Ahh, good evening, Dr. Spurling,” Djimon said, grinning wide.

 “Hi Djimon. How are you this evening?” I asked, surprised at how genuine and pleased he was to see me.

 “Truly, fortune has favored me with your company yet again. By happy coincidence, when I finished my work in the southern hall, I commenced transforming your previous quarters into something more habitable. Come, I will show you,” he said, taking my bag and picking up the candle and sconce he had set down to open the door.

 “Don’t look so pleased with yourself. He treats everyone I bring over that way,” said Adrian.

 “I thought no one else had ever been here?” I asked.

 “Well, when you put it that way,” he shrugged.

 I stuck my tongue out at him and joined Djimon upstairs.

 “Dinner will be served promptly at eight thirty-five,” Adrian hollered up at us.

 Djimon turned around and asked “What time is it now?”

 “Eight thirty-three,” Adrian said, holding up the sacks of food and smiling before walking off towards the kitchen.

 Djimon took me down the dark wooden halls to my right, north I believe, and into the room I had stayed in the night before. At least I assumed so. It looked nothing like what I remembered from the morning.

 The room had been dusty and gray with clutter deep in the shadows along the walls. Whatever colors the room had were muted and lifeless. Not so now. The clutter was gone, revealing a room larger than I would have thought, complete with its own walk-in closet and small fireplace, which burned low. A vanity was built into one wall. The mirror above went all the way to the ceiling. The whole thing was encased in carved hardwoods brushed gold, and came with a matching jewelry case.

 The room was rich and warm in a way that was very on purpose. The wood floor glowed in front of the hearth beneath the fire light, sending shadows curling around the carved banisters of the bed. The heavy curtains I thought were dark gray were clean now, showing crimson and deep purples sprinkled with gold wherever the light hit them.

 Not everything in the room matched, and there was no central theme, but everything in it belonged in a way going beyond design. The wood polish left a distinct scent of lemon and pine that mixed with wood smoke and the scent of the old growth gardens below, and the Hudson River beyond. I was overwhelmed with a sense of approval from the house for being discovered again, for being recognized for what it was, that the whole was worth infinitely more than the sum of its parts.

 And philosophical personifications of a house aside, it was freaking gorgeous and I loved it.

 “Did you do all of this?” I asked, feeling stupid the moment it left my mouth. Of course he did. No one else lived there. “I mean of course you did. This is beautiful.” And meant for me. Adrian had his room, though it wasn’t as nice as this, and I doubted this was the kind that would suit Djimon. I didn’t believe for a second he planned to fix this room after the southern hall on the other side of the manor.

 “Thank you,” I gave him a quick hug.

 “If only all my work were rewarded so,” he laughed.

 I laughed too.

 “Granted, it is far from finished. The windows need replacing and the frames rebuilt. I believe the ceiling might need to come down as well, and I will need to check the walls, but it is not as damaged as most of the others. Adrian did well to choose this one for you. This was, once, the lady’s chambers and this house, like a man, needs a woman to give it life. This room will be yours whenever you are here,” he said.

 I wasn’t sure what to think of the presumption I would be here regularly enough to have my own room. Or if perhaps he was implying, or hoping, for something else. Nevertheless, it must have taken him all day to prepare it just for me, and it was truly, truly beautiful. Maybe he was just happy to have a guest. I thought how terrible it must be only having Adrian for company and was surprised to find the idea more amusing than terrible. I suppose that bore thinking on later.

 “I’m glad you like it. Now come, we do not want to be late for dinner,” Djimon said.

 “Not since he went to all the trouble and all,” I said.

 Djimon grimaced as I passed him out the door. “Please tell me he did not stop for fast-food again.”

 I laughed out loud and we went downstairs to join Adrian in the kitchen.

 It didn’t take long for me to agree with Adrian. Jabari was some kind of wizard. A magi of meat, and sorcerer of sauce. The meal was divine.

 We considered diving right into my research, but soon discovered why dinner came with so many wet wipes and napkins. We used them all.

 The three of us settled into the large sitting room I’d been in the night before after cleaning the kitchen. Adrian and Djimon lit several oil lamps and we huddled around one of the coffee tables for the next couple of hours poring over pages of research. They were excellent students, especially Adrian, paying attention to every detail.

 Adrian asked fewer questions as the night wore on and became more and more formal when he did so. What began as a discussion dwindled to me wrapping up a presentation.

Djimon retired for the evening, turning down several of the lamps on his way upstairs to finish a few things while Adrian looked at the photos from our dig site, seeming oblivious to his departure.

 He slid the photos into the folder on the coffee table.

 “What do you think we should do about Ruby?” he asked after a moment.

 “I’m hoping something will turn up on one of the security videos. We’ll know more tomorrow,” I said.

 “And if there is nothing?” he asked. “What then?”

 “We could try a set up. You know, like we did with M&M.”

 Adrian frowned but didn’t say no either.

 “We’ll find her,” I said, bumping his knee with mine.

 He nodded without looking at me.

 “You know, you never asked about what the FBI was doing outside of Nick’s,” he said.

 “I thought you would tell me, or you wouldn’t. By the time I saw you next we had more important stuff to take care of.”

 “So you were never going to ask?”

 “Maybe, but I decided I would rather not know than have you lie to me if it came to it. I wouldn’t be able to work with you after that. Lying is a betrayal. It’s personal. I’ve dealt with it more times than I care to remember and once someone crosses the line, it’s over.”

 “That’s part of the reason you were so angry when Thomas showed up at the office while you were there,” he said.

 “Yes, mostly. That was different. You thought you had a good reason, and I understood, but it was a near thing.”

 Adrian nodded coming to a decision. “The ship I was on last week. The one, you know,” he said, showing me his wrists. “Where this happened. It was a smuggling ship. Apparently, there were some weapons on board. Arms shipment or whatever that went missing and they thought I took them.”

 “Did you?” I asked with a touch of sarcasm.

 “Totally. Took all two and a half tons, or however much it was, and spent three days unloading it at the docks, and then Nick and I walked right down the boardwalk with it in front of about a million cameras and hauled it thirty or forty miles through the city in our sneaky little gigantic semi-truck, then spent three days unloading it. It’s sitting in the basement right now. We buried the semi in the gardens. Coppers will never find it.”

 I cracked up laughing again. It was almost the exact thought I had when John told me the theory. It wasn’t even that funny. I mean a whole bunch of military grade weapons were still missing and that was bad, but after two a.m., everything was more amusing.

 “John told me,” I said, expecting Adrian to be surprised. He wasn’t.

 “Is he going to cause trouble?” he asked.

 “He’s not thrilled I’m going after Vitale and this Auction and, well, he sort of hates you.”

 Adrian did smile then. “My keen senses picked up on that.”

 “He was pissed that guy he brought in talked after mentioning your name.”

 “Wait? What?” he asked, turning to me. “What guy?”

 “I told you about him. Benjamin King. Everyone calls him—”

 “Benji, yeah, I’ve heard of him.”

 “Well he wasn’t talking. Didn’t want any more involved than he was. I convinced John to step out for five minutes. That’s when you called. You came up and he said you’d owe him a favor if he helped.”

 “Christ, Claire,” he said, rubbing his head.

 “What? It worked didn’t it? He pointed us towards Vitale and this Auction. Confirmed the artifacts will be there. That is exactly the break we hoped for. What’s the problem?”

 He sighed. “Nothing. You’re right we needed it. But, no forget it. I’ll take care of Benji.”

 “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but it sure better be you helping him with whatever he wants and leaving him in peace, because I gave my word. I’m sorry I obligated you, but I didn’t have time for anything less. You will not compromise my promise.”

 He raised his hands in defeat. “I just meant I’d talk to him. But you should know this will cause trouble later.”

 “Oh, Benji’s harmless.”

 “He’s all right, as far as these things go I guess, but he isn’t clean. Far from it. He knows his way around the old world rules. You make it sound like he refused to help because he was scared to death to speak. And a favor from me made him change his mind awfully fast.”

 I hadn’t thought of it that way. He had been terrified to talk and changed course quick at the prospect of a favor from Adrian Knight. What could Adrian do for him that would make it worthwhile?

 “What about you would make it worth so much to him?” I asked.

 “That’s classified. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

 I rolled my eyes at him. “Yes, Top Gun references. My day is now complete.”

 Adrian grinned again. It was a tired kind of smile, but genuine. One with the subtle hints of struggle from being out of practice at it. It looked good on him in the same way his old brown leather ensemble did, buckles and all. In the same way his house suited him. Something visceral and deep and beyond description. There wasn’t any one thing to point at as similar or fitting—not the floral patterns on most of the furniture, or the pale silvery green wallpaper that was peeling, or the intricately lacquered angels in flight along the ceiling—but it was him. Gilded. Ruined.