A Cadgers Curse Read online

  Even though they're over eighty, the twins actively pursue new projects all the time. Right now it was bird watching, and they insisted on showing me the pair of cardinals at the bird feeder I'd helped them rig up on their little balcony.

  "They mate for life, you know," Glendy explained as we watched the colorful birds in the sharp morning light.

  "And they don't migrate south," Lucille added. "They stay here with us in Chicago all winter."

  The handsome red male sat in the feeder while the brownish female jumped around the balcony floor, picking up fallen seeds with her bright orange beak. In between bites, they called to each other, but I didn't know if the communication was for security reasons or just casual conversation. Either way, it was a delightful beginning to the day.

  Later, after Mother's excellent meal, Auntie played fourth hand at the card table, leaving me free to eat too many Frango Mints and think of happy times with Frank. Frank had liked playing Santa, and on our first Christmas together, he'd locked a little wrapped package behind the glass panel of our grandfather clock five days before Christmas. "Half the fun is in the waiting," he'd teased and tossed the key into his pocket. Of course, he'd been right, damn him, I thought, glancing down at the treasured gold bracelet. He'd died only a few years ago, but to me it felt more like a few centuries.

  My cell phone rang, interrupting my memories. It was my best friend, Lauren, wishing me happy holidays.

  "This year, I got a blue spruce and decorated it with all blue lights," she said. Her parents are Japanese, but Lauren married a WASP, and now cleverly incorporates holidays and religions from both sides, leaving nothing to chance.

  "How's life with Auntie Attila?" she asked.

  I lowered my voice so the quartet at the card table couldn't hear. "Can you believe this? She's sleeping with her lawyer, and he's running a con on her."

  "Nobody cons your Aunt Elizabeth," Lauren declared.

  "Except if it involves Robert Burns and or Scottish nationalism. And in this case, it's both," I said. "I can't say more now. The twins are here too, and big ears are listening."

  "Are you bringing Scotty to my New Year's Eve party?"

  "I'd like to, but he's in London."

  "Is that why you sound so low?"

  "It's more than that. I stumbled over a dead body Wednesday. It turned out to be Ken Gordon, Frank's half-brother."

  "Ohmygod, DD. What a horrible coincidence."

  "That's what the cops said."

  "I didn't mean..."

  "I know. I'll be happy to see this year kick over, but I'm not in a festive mood."

  "Well, if you change your mind, there'll be some interesting people."

  I'd hardly hung up the phone when it rang again.

  "Happy Christmas, Shatzy."

  It was my German mechanic, Dieter. "Merry ho-ho-ho to you, too, Dieter. Why are you working on Christmas day?"

  "I vanted to see what happened about dose brakes. And it is just as I thought. Nothing vas wrong. The problem is somebody does not like you too good. Dat right front brake line vas definitely slashed. This I found right away. It vas near to all the vay through."

  I knew the brakes had failed, but I didn't want to believe it had been done deliberately.

  "You are still there?" Dieter asked after a long silence.

  I grunted something, and he continued.

  "You must report this immediately to the authorities. You could have been really bad hurt. It is a miracle you and dat Miata are still breathing. The brake line is now repaired, and I put on your spare. So do not get into any more trouble until you have a new tire. You can pick her up whenever you want. I got to go home now or my wife vill murder me. Oh, I have put the bill onto your tab"

  I was so shaken, I forgot to thank him. Somebody at HI-Data had cut my brake line. Who? John Olson? How would he know what car was mine? Norman? I couldn't figure out why Norman was so negative toward me. Maybe he needed cover because he had killed Ken. Whoever it was, I didn't like my odds in being someone's target.

  On top of all this, Auntie was throwing me the Burns curve.

  I decided to pick up my car at Dieter's and head for my office. It would be deserted today, allowing me to review the interview notes and tapes in peace and then move more quickly into the next phase of the investigations. Although there were only three subjects left, my tight timeframe had gotten even tighter with the day lost to Ken's death. I would try to carry on as usual with everything concerning HI-Data and act as if everything was normal. But it wasn't.

  Before I left, I phoned Phil Richy's private number. I hoped he would answer, and he did. I told him what had happened with John Olson skipping out of HI-Data.

  "That's not so good, is it?" he said.

  "That's why I need your help."

  "Oh, shit. You always get me in trouble when you ask for my help."

  "Never mind that. I need a referral to one of your erstwhile contacts who'll agree to get some prints run for me."

  "Olson's prints?"

  "Right in one."

  "What's wrong with your sources?"

  "I'm on the outs with everybody right now, okay? Don't ask. Can you get someone? Yes or no?"

  "I'm thinking. Oh, yeah. There's somebody who'll do it for me. He's worked with me on two fraud cases involving homicides. But promise me you won't come on too strong. And above all, don't get him in any trouble. He's a pretty damn good detective. He's in the Cold Case squad. And DD, please try to remember that he's one of the good guys. Are you listening?"

  "Yeah, yeah. So who is this peach?"

  "Name's Morgan Fernandez. Lieutenant Fernandez to you. You know where Police Headquarters is, don't you?"

  Phil gave me his number and promised he'd call Fernandez to tell him to expect my call.

  The card sharks were in a dither as I was ready to leave. Aunt Elizabeth had been dealt the Nine of Diamonds. She immediately halted the game. To her, the Nine of Diamonds is known as the "Curse of Scotland." Legend has it the card was used to send a message ordering the Massacre of Glencoe on that fateful morning of February 13, 1692. Guests who had accepted their hospitality murdered thirty-seven members of Clan MacDonald, and the cold blood of that shameful incident is still remembered today by many Scots.

  Normally Auntie doesn't make such a big fuss about the card. But today she threw down her hand and took me aside.

  "It's an ill omen that Nine of Diamonds," she insisted as she tossed a hand-knit Glenshee cardigan over her shoulders and clipped it on with her thistle broach. "I do not like it. Are you taking the you-know-what with you to start investigating today?"

  "No, Auntie. I was planning to work on the investigation for HI-Data. It's Christmas. Nobody else is going to be working. I won't be able to see anybody about the Burns stuff."

  "But this is very important. This is for Scotland. Take it with you and do whatever you do on that Inter-Netty thing with your computer."

  Sometimes agreeing with Auntie is the better part of valor. At least it seemed so today. I started to remove the pouch and the papers from the box.

  Auntie stopped me. "Dinna take them out. They've been safe in there for over two hundred years."

  "Auntie, I'm not a stevedore, and I'm not walking around with something the size of a small steamer trunk. Your treasures will be safe with me."

  I put them in a sturdy brown envelope, then into my briefcase.

  "Oh, and bye the bye," Auntie called as I donned my coat. "Maybe that Nine of Diamonds has something to do with the wee flash I had this morning of you and the inside of your office closet."

  "Auntie, you don't really believe that getting the Nine of Diamonds brings bad luck, do you?"

  "Aye. Sometimes I do. An' don't make the mistake of thinking bad luck isn't real."

  "Anyway Auntie, you've never even seen my office."

  Her eyes held mine as she recited, "There's a coffee pot, one window right behind your desk, and a closet off to the left. Watch out for that closet. It's up
to no good."

  "What?" Icy fear gripped me. I really hate Auntie's visions. She's a bit fey, like my Scottish grandmother Buchanan. Granny had attributed her gift of special sight to her tortoiseshell cat. Scottish superstition holds that tortoiseshell cats can see into the future. Auntie Elizabeth didn't have a tortoiseshell cat, but nonetheless she has the damn sight. The worst thing is that Auntie's clues are never specific. All I know for certain is that they never bode well. She'd had one of them before Frank died. It's as if the fates aren't impersonal, and that scares the hell out of me.

  "How could my own closet harm me, Auntie? The only things in it are a faded umbrella and my Rockports."

  "Don't dilly-dally DD. And mind now what I told you," Auntie called as she sat back down with the "girls" and insisted on a redeal. I noticed they knew better than to disagree. They were hunched over their cards, resuming play, as I walked out the door.

  FIFTEEN

  THIN GRAY CLOUDS RACED across the winter sky. It was even colder today than yesterday. I returned the loaner and found the Miata keys and car precisely where Dieter said they'd be.

  It was great to drive my own car, and the trip to my office at the Consolidated Bank building went fast in the light traffic. Most people were still at home eating Christmas dinner, but tomorrow Chicago's Loop would be jammed with people returning presents they'd gotten from Santa.

  Consolidated Bank was deserted too, and not just because it was Christmas Day. Nobody could miss the huge sign in front that read Drake Demolitions. The powers that be had decided to tear down this old structure and replace it with a bigger, shinier edifice. It was an odd feeling knowing that in a few weeks all this brick and glass and concrete and steel would be reduced to a pile of rubble. Buildings can die, just like people.

  Over two months ago, we'd been notified to clear out. Most of the building had been vacated. I was the only tenant left in the tower wing. As usual I was procrastinating. Technically I was squatting. I really didn't want to move. This is where I'd started my climb back after Frank's death. Phil had found this tiny office for me and started giving me some insurance work. Maybe you had to use the Hubble space telescope to locate it, but enough people find my phone number in the book to pay the rent. I like it just as it is. I don't need more changes.

  My landlord, George Vogel, keeps my rent down, which is good; but he's a compulsive neat-freak, which I am not. What's worse, he's forever staring at my chest. George had already offered me a comparable office at the same cheap rent in the new Consolidated Bank building, but I'd decided to look elsewhere and get out from under his stare.

  My phone was ringing. I rushed to unlock the door, but by the time I got in, the other party had hung up and the line was dead.

  I relocked the door. In my line of work, there aren't many visitors, and it keeps me feeling safe, even though the lock's not the greatest, which I keep telling George Vogel. I dumped the Sony recorder and my notes from yesterday's interviews on my desk and rushed to the closet, yanking open the door, eager to confirm or deny Auntie's vision. The exposed lightbulb illuminated a folding umbrella, my spare pair of high heels, and the running shoes stuffed with dirty socks. Disgusting maybe, but definitely not threatening. It was a mystery what my closet had to do with anything. I pulled my coat tighter, trying to convince myself the sudden chill was from the lack of heat in the building.

  Today the office was so cold, I suspected they must have pulled the plug on the heat. Thankfully the small electric heater I'd brought from home a few days ago made the place livable, but I knew it wouldn't be long before they cut off the electricity and the phone.

  I turned on my ancient Mr. Coffee pot, hoping it wouldn't short out again. I'll have to buy a new one soon, but this one reminded me of Joe DiMaggio. Coffee is my designer drug, and I consume more than my share of the 140 billion cups Americans drink every year. While it brewed, the phone rang again. I picked it up on the first ring. There was a click and the sound of someone hanging up. I followed suit. Then I called the cell number Phil had given me for Lt. Fernandez.

  "Hello," said a pleasant voice after I introduced myself. "Phil said you need some prints run." "

  I do. Merry Christmas, by the way."

  "And to you, too."

  "Can you help me out?"

  "Any friend of Phil's-you know the rest. I guess I'm stuck. So can you get over to the Main Headquarters at 35th and Michigan tomorrow at about two o'clock?"

  "Absolutely. I really appreciate it. What'll you be wearing? I mean, how'll I recognize you?"

  "Ha Ha. Phil said you had a good sense of humor. Just ask at the main desk. They'll page me. I'll be on the lookout for you. Phil described you down to your shoe size."

  "Thanks. See you tomorrow then."

  I hung up, hoping he'd be able to give me some answers about Mr. John Olson.

  While Online Detective checked the three trainees' names for me, I reviewed and made notes on the recorded interviews. There were two more hang-up calls, and now I was more than annoyed, I was scared. Someone knew I was here today and might be stalking me. I unplugged the phone, hoping that would be enough to discourage whoever it was.

  I next developed a PERT chart with "immediate" and "secondary" task categories and wrote up a timeline for the upcoming week, fitting each task into the timeline. Generally time and patience are on my side in a comprehensive background check. But on this job I only had a short week's window of opportunity, so I was going to have to hustle to meet the deadline.

  I certainly didn't need and didn't want La Dragon's Robert Burns business. I had a feeling it was going to turn out badly-not just for Auntie, but for me, too. But I really had no choice. You couldn't say no to the Dragon. So I went on what Auntie calls the Inter-Netty and googled Robert Burns. A slew of sites popped up, including a Burns Encyclopedia, a biography, a family tree, and his complete works. Much of what they had to say about the Bard of Scotland I already knew because of Auntie. Burns was considered the superstar of his day, and his birthday-January 25, 1759-is still celebrated the world over with a "Burns Supper" I'd accompanied Auntie to more than one of these celebrations where she repeatedly toasted the Bard in native tongue. I enjoyed it, really, and I like hearing the bagpipes. They always make my blood run hot, and confirm that no matter where I am or what I might want to be, I am Scots through and through, so don't cross me unless you are prepared for battle.

  I continued surfing and uncovered a few interesting facts relating to Auntie's artifacts.

  • On August 25, 1787, Burns and a traveling companion stopped in Stirling at the Golden Lion Inn on their way to Inverness.

  • Auntie's verse was written by Burns the next day, after he'd seen the then ruined state of the former home of Scotland's kings, which aroused his Jacobite feelings. Burns took a diamond-tipped pen and scrawled the verse on the window of his room.

  • Word of the verse, immediately attributed to Burns, spread quickly among travelers and was considered scandalous and treasonous by the current monarchy who had come to power after the overthrow of the Stuart kings.

  • Burns worried about the rumors. He was being talked about as the author, and he feared being called a traitor. But more and more people talked, so a few months later, in October of 1787, he returned to the Golden Lion Inn, accompanied by Dr. James McKittrick Adair. Sometime during this visit, he broke the windowpane with the butt end of his riding crop to eliminate the evidence.

  • Burns and Adair stayed on for a few days at nearby Harvieston House because of bad weather. There they visited Mrs. Katherine Bruce of Clackmannan, a ninety-five-year-old woman descended from Robert the Bruce, the revered fourteenthcentury Scottish ruler.

  Mrs. Katherine Bruce, I reflected. Maybe that's the KB of the crest. I would do further research on her.

  I found a site called Scotland.com and learned that the Golden Lion Hotel, which had opened in 1786, was still in operation today. On the Burns Federation site, I found out that there was a seventeenth-century i
nn in Dumfries, Scotland, called the Globe Inn, where Burns had also penned poems on their window panes. Like the Golden Lion, the Globe Inn still stands today. Two windows with Burns' poems still exist at the Globe Inn and are a great tourist attraction, along with the poet's favorite chair, which, if you sit in, you must quote some Burns or provide drinks for the house.

  I was amazed at the amount of information on the Internet about Robert Burns' life and work. My research had provided a few things I could investigate immediately for Auntie, and I wanted to get Tom Joyce involved. He loves to sleuth, plus he'd have the resources to do a first-class authentication of the manuscript. I didn't know how familiar he was with Robert Burns, but I knew he'd love the challenge. I decided to stop and see him later. I planned also to stop at the university library to research where most of the Burns' manuscripts are housed. I wondered if the original of this poem was part of a current collection. Maybe Auntie's lover was dealing in stolen goods. Lastly I'd research Mrs. Katherine Bruce. Those initials, "KB," had immediately caught my attention. It was very possible that those were her initials on Auntie's box. At least this was a plan and would hopefully satisfy Auntie.

  I turned off the computer, unplugged Mr. Coffee, and remembered to turn my phone back on. Then I switched off the heater, checked inside my closet one more time, turned off the lights, locked the door and scanned the corridor. It seemed deserted, but I heard sounds from other parts of the building. No doubt the Drake de-construction crew was working overtime.

  I made it safely to the parking lot and felt relieved as I merged into the evening traffic and headed to Mother's to pick up the twins and Cavvy.

  SIXTEEN

  I DROVE STRAIGHT TO Mother's, relieved that all I had left to do today was pick up the twins and Cavalier for the trip home.