Jade Monkey

I stalked stiffly out of the early sunshine into Pete’s bar, Hannah walking slowly behind me. Sleeping uncomfortably in a car isn’t fun, but it’s better than being dead or arrested. A goon leant against the wall just inside the door looked at me from behind thick glasses. He was tall and had brown blond hair he was wearing a slightly worn looking dark green suit. He wasn’t a bulky guy but he looked as if when he hit things they stayed hit and that he could deal with anything that could fit through the door. More than that there was a calculating intelligence in his eyes, as he quickly checked me over. I half expected him to give me his card. His pockets bulged, disturbing the lines of the suit, so much for concealed weapons. He certainly wasn’t in line with what I’d come to expect from people in the Goon industry. He did notice Hannah’s hip holster as his eyes widened for a split second, but he simply nodded and made no move to stop either of us going in to the bar.

The bar was full of mobsters, dark suits contrasted with bright ties, their black hats pulled down low, hiding their eyes. Sometimes, the mix of films on at the studios is exactly right and the atmosphere in Pete’s bar seems to hold up a mirror to life. I half expected Italian music to start coming from the fading jukebox in the corner.

Peter looked up from behind the bar and saw us.

‘Hey, Hannah.’

‘Hey, Pete.’

I looked between the two of them before my gaze settled on Pete. ‘You really do know everyone in the town don’t you?’

He shrugged. ‘Close.’

‘Scary Anthony?’

‘Him I just don’t want to know. Small time crook down at the docks trying to work his way into a bigger league, very ambitious.’

‘This just gets better and better.’

‘Warehouse 12 on the wharf would be a good place to start looking for him.’

‘Duly noted. So who’s the guy on the door?’

‘That’s Simon. I decided with all the trouble that seems to be stirring in town someone who knows how to handle himself might come in handy.’

‘He’s a pro?’

‘Yeah, a “Trouble Consultant”. Get him to give you his card.’

‘Trouble Consultant?’

Pete grinned hugely, spreading his hands in front of him. ‘Yeah, Trouble turns up consults with him and decides to go somewhere else.’

He turned to Hannah. ‘You’re being quiet there.’

‘Drinking in the ambience. Have you still got that trunk I left for you to put into storage?’

‘Yeah its in the back.’

‘Well I need the key and some privacy for five minutes.’

‘Will do.’ Pete rummaged around in the till for a few moments before bring out a large iron key and giving it to her.

I turned to Pete as she walked over to the back room. ‘So how do you know her?’

‘In passing. She did some consultancy work for a couple of films a while ago.’

‘And she keeps a trunk here because?’

He smiled. ‘Its useful’.

‘Anything new? Seems that the Jade wasn’t the only thing stolen from the museum. They did an inventory after the theft and it seems a few other artefacts were missing from the loading bay where the Monkey was stolen from.’

‘I see.’ I didn’t. Why on earth steal the Jade and then stick around to steal some other artefacts. But Red Mark had mentioned side agreements for the theft. What if that was part of the payment? Scary Anthony steals the Jade, and gets choice of artefacts in the loading bay for his trouble as well as a large amount of money and some significant backing.

A Jack Daniels and coke materialised from the ether next to my hand and I took a sip and did a mental inventory. Scary Anthony was involved in this mess, my ex partner knew I was back in town, the police were still holding me back as an ace card in case they needed a murderer in a hurry and the person who wanted to help me was shortly going to be wanted for murder herself. The only bright spot was that I was fairly sure that she hadn’t killed Mr Charles.

Hannah came back a few moments later. Her hair was tied back and she wore a heavy cream shirt tucked into dark brown trousers with shoes so sensible they were probably doing their own tax returns. A small satchel hung from a long strap over one shoulder, a heavy brown leather jacket was slung over the other. Her attitude had changed along with her clothes, her posture was different, the .45 in its battered leather holster now looked as if it belonged with her. This was business.