The Book With No Name (31 page)

Jensen had been slowly sipping a giant mug of hot chocolate while waiting for Somers in the Olé Au Lait coffee bar. He was sitting at the counter on his own, admiring the all-round cleanliness of the place. Hygiene in places that served food and drink, he learned, was a rare thing to find in Santa Mondega, so it was an unexpected pleasure just to be able to admire the clean polished wooden tables and the shiny varnished marble surface of the bar counter.

Almost twenty minutes passed before Somers actually turned up. Jensen had been trying to contact him ever since leaving the library, and had left countless messages on his partner’s cellphone explaining that he had some information. Somers had only returned his call at about half past three, and had been brief to the point of curtness. ‘Meet me in the Olé Au Lait coffee bar on Cinnamon Street at eight o’clock’ was all he had said, before hanging up.

For once, Jensen had actually been sitting in his hotel room, relaxing, when Somers had called. He was more than happy to come out and meet his new partner, because the only thing he had found on TV worth watching was an old re-run of
Happy Days.
It wasn’t a good one, either; for some reason Robin Williams was in it as the character Mork from the
Mork and Mindy
show. This was not the sort of supernatural being that Jensen was looking for, so a hot drink and some intelligent conversation with Somers was just what he needed.

Somers was easily identifiable when he walked in. He was wearing a long, heavy grey trench coat over his usual dark suit, smart white shirt and grey tie. Everyone else in the Olé
Au Lait was dressed very casually, including Miles Jensen, who had opted for a pair of black chinos and a light blue open-necked shirt.

‘What can I get you?’ Jensen asked as his uptight partner approached him at the bar.

‘I’ll have a black-two-sugars, please, Sarah,’ the other called over Jensen’s head to the pretty young girl behind the counter.

‘I gotta hand it to you, Somers. You picked a real lively place here,’ quipped Jensen.

Coffee bars were not exactly the lifeblood of the Santa Mondega economy, so they were never packed out wall to wall. The Olé Au Lait was one of the more popular of these establishments, but even so there were probably no more than ten people in the entire place, and that included staff.

‘Well, I don’t enjoy mixing with other people, do I?’ grumbled Somers. ‘Here, let’s take a seat over there.’ He pointed to a table not far from the counter. There was no one else within earshot of the table so it was a fairly logical choice for two detectives who wanted to discuss a case. ‘Sarah, bring my coffee over, will you?’

They made their way over to the small round wooden table and sat down facing each other.

‘I’ve been trying to phone you all afternoon,’ Jensen began. ‘Why haven’t you been taking my calls?’

‘Time is not on our side, Jensen. Have you found out anything about the book yet?’

‘That’s what I was trying to call you about. I checked out the library. One of the staff there says that a man fitting the description of the Bourbon Kid came in asking about the book this morning. Seems he’d been there before, too. He knows that Annabel de Frugyn has it, but rather typically there’s still no address for anyone of that name. All I found out is that she lives in a trailer and never stays in the same place twice.’

‘That’s interesting,’ said Somers.

‘Ain’t helpful, though, is it? If the Bourbon Kid knows she has the book and is already on her tail, she could be dead by now.’

Somers sighed. ‘If she even exists.’

‘Look, Somers, maybe it’s time we told Captain Rockwell about all this and enlisted his help in tracking her down?’ Jensen suggested.

‘I think he might already know.’

‘No way! How could he? I’ve only just found out.’

Somers took a look to his left and then to his right before leaning over to Jensen and speaking in a hushed voice. ‘For the same reason I haven’t been taking your calls. Our office has been bugged. I found a small recording device hidden under your desk, and another one inside my desk phone.’

‘What?’ Jensen felt a cold shiver run right through him. ‘You think the Captain is spying on us? That’s outrageous! I’ll have him up on charges.’

‘Calm down, for Chrissakes. I figure from now on we just don’t discuss stuff in the office. If we let on that we know the office is bugged then we lose any advantage we might have. Let them think we’ve found out nothing about the case so far. That way they can’t go on in ahead of us and mess up our investigation. Let’s use this to our advantage. From now on we meet in coffee shops like this.’

‘Okay. Good idea.
Bastards.
’

‘You might want to check your hotel, too. Maybe they’ve had your room bugged as well.’

‘Shit,’ Jensen shook his head in frustration. ‘Anything else I should know about?’

‘Actually, yeah,’ Somers sat back. ‘I questioned a guy name of Jericho this afternoon. He’s an old informant of mine. Not particularly trustworthy – only half of what he says is even half true, but that’s by the by.’

‘Go on,’ said Jensen, eager to hear what Somers had prised out of Jericho.

‘Well, Jericho was with the guy Rusty who was shot dead the other day by the two monks. Our man was lucky enough to get away with just a bullet in the leg.’

‘Right.’ Jensen was interested. Somers had grabbed his attention. This guy Jericho could prove to be a good lead. ‘So
what does he know?’

‘Well, he claims that the two monks were looking for a bounty hunter named Jefe.’

‘Jefe, huh? You ever heard of him?’

‘Yeah, I heard of him. He’s a real nasty piece of work.’

‘Isn’t
everyone
here?’ Jensen mocked, slurping another mouthful of his hot chocolate.

‘Yeah, but this guy’s worse than most. Thing is, though, Jericho was in Sanchez’s bar, the Tapioca, when he got shot by the monks. Now he claims that after the monks left, this Jefe guy came into the bar, and he was looking for a man called El Santino.’

Jensen started. ‘That’s the second time today I’ve heard that name. You know him?’

‘Everybody knows him.’

‘Well I don’t.’

‘That’s ’cos you’re not everybody. You’re nobody.’

‘True enough,’ Jensen replied good-humouredly. So who is El Santino, and what did Jefe want with him?’

Somers sat back a moment as the pretty young waitress arrived with an oversized mug of coffee. He took it directly from her hand and sniffed the contents. After sucking the aroma deep into his lungs he placed the mug on the table and pulled a five-dollar bill from his trouser pocket.

‘Keep the change, sweetness,’ he said, tucking the money into the front pocket of Sarah’s apron. She turned and walked off without a word. ‘Where was I?’ he continued.

‘El Santino.’

‘Right. Of course. El Santino practically runs this town. He’s the biggest gangster around. Small fry outside of Santa Mondega, but big fish inside it. It’s long been rumoured that he covets the Eye of the Moon. It’s said that he was willing to pay a few thousand for it last time it came into town. Thing is, El Santino, big man though he is, doesn’t like to take risks with his own life, so it’s not often you see him in town. He only ever seems to come out at night.’

‘Vampire, possibly?’ Jensen suggested.

‘Well, he’s as good a candidate as any,’ Somers went on. ‘But see here: El Santino pays other people to do his dirty work for him. It was thought that he paid this guy Ringo to steal the Eye five years ago.’

‘Ringo? Why do I think I should know that name?’

‘Because Ringo did steal the Eye of the Moon five years ago, but then he got shot to bits by the Bourbon Kid and El Santino never got his hands on it. But our man Jericho reckons El Santino hired Jefe to get the Eye for him this time, and he wants it delivered before the eclipse.’

‘So Jefe has the Eye of the Moon, then?’

‘Nuh-uh,’ Somers wagged a finger at Jensen, shaking his head at the same time. ‘Nope. Apparently Jefe got drunk with none other than Marcus the Weasel the night before the Weasel was killed.’

Jensen’s eyes opened wide. ‘So when we suspected earlier that the Weasel robbed this Jefe guy, we were probably right?’ he asked.

‘Without a doubt. The Weasel checked into the Santa Mondega International under the name Jefe, using Jefe’s ID.’

‘This all kinda ties up, doesn’t it?’

‘Yep. The Weasel robs Jefe. The porter and his girlfriend rob the Weasel. Then Elvis turns up, kills the Weasel but finds no Eye. So he goes looking for the porter to find the Eye. That’s when he gets killed … by the Bourbon Kid.’

‘Who may or may not be the porter, Dante.’

‘Right.’

‘Shit, Somers, that’s good work. You had time to plan our next move, or what?’

Somers took a sip of coffee and swilled it around his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing it. Jensen likewise took a swig of his rapidly cooling chocolate and waited for Somers to respond.

‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘I’m gonna snoop round a few of the other local hotels to see if these two kids, Dante and Kacy, have checked in anywhere. I want you to stake out El Santino’s place. See if you see anyone coming or going. These kids might
try and take the Eye to him and sell it.’

‘Why’d they do that? Surely that’d be dangerous?’

Somers smiled and took a huge gulp of his coffee. ‘Not if, as you suspect, this kid Dante
is
the Bourbon Kid. He might want the Eye just so he can sell it to El Santino. Make no mistake, El Santino is the only man in this town with any serious money.’

‘Now hold on a minute, Somers. You now think that the Bourbon Kid is only interested in money, not the Eye of the Moon? But if that’s the case, why didn’t he sell it five years ago when he got his hands on it?’

‘No, you hold on. Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m only doing what you keep suggesting and keeping an open mind. I didn’t say the Kid isn’t interested in keeping the Eye for himself. I’m just saying it’s a possibility he’s after money. Maybe him and El Santino are working together. Who knows? Just stake out El Santino’s place for me, will you?’ Somers pulled a folded piece of scrap paper and a small black pager from an inside pocket in his grey trench coat. ‘Here’s El Santino’s address. He lives in a huge mansion, kinda castle, really, on the edge of town.’ He handed the paper to Jensen. ‘And here’s a pager. You get in any trouble out there, page me and I’ll be there pronto.’ He took hold of Jensen’s hand and pressed the pager into it, before adding, ‘Just make sure no one sees you, okay?’

‘Wouldn’t it be better if I just called you on your cellphone?’ Jensen reasoned.

‘Nah. Don’t do that because I won’t answer it, ‘less you page me first. Leave it as a last resort. The Captain may have found a way to tap into our mobile calls too, so if we do have to speak on the phone, don’t give away anything you’ve discovered or any details of where you are unless you
really
have to. You got that?’

Jensen was more than a little irritated by the interference of Captain Rockwell, if indeed he was the person behind the phone tapping. ‘Okay. Whatever you say, Somers. Anything else? Should I check to see my ass isn’t bugged next time I take a shit?’

‘Wouldn’t hurt, Jensen. Don’t take any chances. Check everywhere and speak only in hushed tones, and only to me. I don’t think we can trust anyone right now. But I’m pretty certain things will become clearer soon.’ He stood up from the table and adjusted his long coat to make sure it wasn’t caught under his chair. ‘Anyway, I gotta run. If I don’t hear from you before, I’ll see you in the office bright and early tomorrow.’

‘It’s a deal. Watch your back, Somers – and hey, this is a two-way thing, right? You get in trouble, you page me, okay?’

Somers smiled. ‘Sure thing,’ he said.