Bishop opens her eyes slowly and sees the back of Amy's head, and one beautiful bare shoulder peeking out from under the sheet. She follows the curves of her lover's body clear down to the lavender painted toenails on her feet, remembering every inch she had massaged, caressed, and kissed only a few hours before.

And then she wonders how she managed to wind up in bed with her.
 

by Randalynn

 

---

 

 
Bishop opens her eyes slowly and sees the back of Amy's head, and one beautiful bare shoulder peeking out from under the sheet. She follows the curves of her lover's body clear down to the lavender painted toenails on her feet, remembering every inch she had massaged, caressed, and kissed only a few hours before.

And then she wonders how she managed to wind up in bed with her.

She doesn’t wonder long. She doesn’t have to. Just looking at Amy sleeping besides her, Maggie feels warm clear through, like desire fills her and makes her dizzy with longing. There is this overwhelming urge to wiggle her way over and wrap herself around Amy, skin to skin. She wants to hold her close and kiss that bare shoulder, and whisper to her the things she had never whispered to a woman back when she had been Mark, because such whispers pushed relationships to places a master thief could never take them.

How could the man she had been ever tell a woman he loved her and mean it, when their life together would be based on lies? He would have had to be 100% sure they would always be together before he could share the secret of Magdalene with her – and sharing that part of his life would put both Bateau and Finn at risk if he made a bad call.

But last night …

Yesterday, when she and Amy had shopped, they had bought so many things that Maggie was amazed at how easy it was. Even though having Amy with her made it far less painful than it had been, she knew deep down it would never be something she enjoyed. As Mark, she had never been into acquiring things. The fact that it would seem to be a necessary qualification for a thief did not escape her notice, but upon reflection, the man she had been would have been the first to admit he had always been an extremely odd thief.

For him, it had started with money. After all, when he first decided on a life of crime, Bishop thought that’s what being a thief was supposed to be about. But after his first few multi-million dollar robberies went off without a hitch, he was surprised to discover that you actually can have too much money. In fact, he learned to his dismay that any more than “more than enough” was just wasted potential. At the same time, doing what he did without some kind of reward made it seem … pointless, and boring.

Unsure of what to do next, he found himself watching the Errol Flynn version of Robin Hood on a hotel TV in Budapest, and started to think about what he could do with what he did best. Overnight, his goals changed, and he decided to use his skills to do something more than just make himself richer. He decided to do good, by going around the rules instead of following them.

That’s when being a thief stopped being work and started being fun.

Back in the more recent past, they had the Mall’s personal services desk send her purchases back to Maggie’s hotel, although she was careful to send them to Abramo Aldafieri, Bateau’s Italian pseudonym. He was currently filling the role of the Contessa’s minder and confidant, providing that buffer between hotel management and the trio and maintaining the fiction that she required secrecy to avoid media attention. Maggie had asked Amy to get them both coffee, and the thief managed to get the clothing delivery order addressed before the personal shopper returned.

“So, plans for dinner?” Amy slipped her arm into Maggie’s and steered her towards the center of the Mall. The thief felt slightly odd, as if two women walking arm-in-arm wasn’t anything unusual at all. On the other hand, considering how little experience Maggie had as a woman, maybe it wasn't. She hesitated, just for a second, then admitted to herself that it felt nice being touched by Amy, and relaxed into it.

Amy felt her stiffen, and then relax, and smiled.

‘Bit by bit, baby,’ she thought, giving Maggie’s arm a squeeze. ‘One step at a time. We’ll tear down those walls, you’ll see.’

“No plans,” Bishop said, then paused for a second before she continued. “There is someone I should call so he doesn’t worry, but other than that ...”

“He?” Amy stopped, and Bishop turned to face her, surprised. Amy’s eyes narrowed. “Is there something I should know about, girlfriend? Or should I say, someone?”

Maggie was confused for a second, then saw where Amy’s mind had gone and laughed out loud. It was Amy’s turn to look puzzled.

“His name is Bateau. He is my friend, my business partner, and the closest thing to family I’ve ever known,” she said, smiling. The smile dimmed, just a little. “He also knows all about what happened last week, and he’s bound to worry if I don’t show up for dinner without calling first.”

“You’re not … his?” Amy stared into her eyes, and Maggie could see her concern, and a touch of jealousy. She was slightly taller than Bishop, and the thief found it a bit disorienting to have to look up at a woman.

‘Another woman,’ she thought, and held back a sigh. Instead, she took Amy’s hands in hers.

“It’s not like that,” Maggie said softly. “We’re not like that. It’s not a romance. He’s like – no, he is the brother I never had. And he’s not the only one.”

“You have another partner?”

“And friend. But we care about each other, too. We all do. We watch out for each other, like families do. You’ll see when you meet them.”

“Mags!! Do you really want to take me home to meet the family … so soon?” Amy grinned. “Wow, I’m honored!”

Bishop hadn’t been planning anything, just saying what she felt. But the realization that she was seriously thinking about introducing Amy to Bateau and Finn made her blush, and she saw Amy see it. Before she could figure out how to react, Amy leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

“Don’t freak, girl.” Her breath caressed Bishop’s neck, and the thief felt something rising inside her. “I really am honored, honest. And I’m sorry if I embarrassed you just now. But the fact you’re even thinking something like that … it just makes me feel so wonderful. You just don’t know.”

She moved closer, and pulled her head back to look down into Bishop’s eyes again.

“So, give your family a call and tell them you’re having dinner at my place tonight.” She grinned again. “Hell, Maggie … we might even eat something!”

When they reached Amy’s place, Bishop could easily see what Amy had meant when she had invited Maggie home to see the real her. The apartment was an extension of her in a way her office would never be. Vibrant colors and soft fabrics mixed with comfortable furniture, and a level of ground clutter that would have sent potential clients running if they saw it in her office at the Mall.

Dinner was Chinese take-out picked up on the way, and the two talked as they ate. Mindful of her own secrets, Bishop let Amy tell her all about her past, her family, where she went to school. The words washed over and through her and made her smile, and the sharing warmed her to the core. She could barely take her eyes off of Amy’s, and when the meal was done, Amy rose, and took her hand …

… and Maggie crossed that line between the living room and the bedroom without a thought. Without thinking of the consequences. Because she didn’t want to think about anything, except the look in Amy’s eyes when she whispered Bishop’s name, or the way her fingers felt when they touched.

Even now, Maggie can’t imagine staying this far away from her for another second. She slides over, slips one arm under Amy’s pillow and snuggles into her, laying her other arm across her lover’s tummy. Amy’s warm softness presses into her middle and she sighs.

‘Is this what love feels like?’ The thought takes her by surprise, even as she realizes it’s true. ‘It’s not lust, although that’s there too. I just need to touch her, be with her. I need to feel her there and know she’s real.’

Maggie buries her nose in Amy’s flesh and breathes her in, smelling sweat and perfume and deodorant and just a hint of the musk from the wetness that came from last night’s play. She feels Amy wake up, then roll over in bed to face her. The fingers that brought her so much pleasure last night reach over and touch Bishop’s chin so very gently, lifting her face to meet Amy’s lips as they softly touch hers. Maggie pulls back just a little and looks up to see her lover smile.

“Hey,” she whispers, and Amy hears the slight tremble in her voice.

“Hey back at you, girl,” she replies softly. “I’m really lovin’ the look in your eyes right now. Whatever you’re thinkin’, baby, hold that thought.”

She leans forward and kisses Maggie again. She is gentle as first, as if Bishop is so fragile she might break. Suddenly, Amy’s kisses become harder and deeper, full of hunger and passion, and she rolls over until she’s on top of her and both of their bodies are skin to skin. Maggie does her best to kiss her back, but Amy pushes her legs apart and rests her weight between them. She begins to rock on her gently as they kiss, her mound pressing softly into Maggie's clit over and over. The heat inside her begins to rise until she can barely think, and before she can stop herself, Bishop feels a sudden tidal wave of pleasure roll up from inside her and push her over an edge she didn’t even know was there. It’s so intense, she finds herself half-moaning and half-screaming into Amy’s mouth as she explodes inside, shuddering all over.

Amy holds her tight as Maggie trembles and bucks under her. When Bishop seems to be coming back to herself, Amy raises herself up slowly. She looks down into her lover’s eyes …

… and is surprised when she sees fear.

“Hey, baby,” she whispers. “You look scared.”

Maggie manages a shaky smile.

“That’s because I am scared.”

“You’re afraid … of me?”

“I’m afraid of us.” Amy’s confusion makes its way to her face, and Maggie kisses her softly. “What I feel for you … what we feel … I’ve never felt this way before. It’s like you’re holding a piece of my soul, and I’ll never get it back, but that’s okay, because I don’t want it back. While you’re holding it, it feels so damned good, I don’t ever want it to end.”

Amy smiles, and touches Maggie’s nose with hers. “You don’t need to be afraid of me, not now or ever. I … I couldn’t believe how lucky I was, the day I found you, when you decided to kiss me back. I knew what I felt for you, and finding out you were open to the possibility of there being an ‘us’ was just …? Especially after what happened to you … before.”

Bishop pulls her down into a hug, and sighs as Amy’s warmth flows down through her again.

“I’ve never really let myself love anyone before,” the thief whispers into her lover’s ear. “I’ve always been so confident, so self-assured … and loving someone felt like surrendering a part of that. A part of me. Which it was, come to think of it.”

Maggie’s hands wander down Amy’s back, enjoying the feel of her skin. She buries her face in Amy’s neck, breathing in her sweet scent.

“But maybe that’s what love is.” She tilts her head back and looks into Amy’s eyes. “The men I work with … they’re my family, and I love them like brothers. I would die for them, if I had to. Just like I would for you.”

“I do love you, Maggie.” Amy leans down and kisses her softly. “I don’t know how it happened, but you caught my heart, and I don’t want you to let go, either.”

Amy sees … something come into Maggie’s eyes, a realization … and then the beginnings of tears rise up to make them glisten.

“Amy … there are things you don’t know, about me or my friends.”

“Well, tell me, silly, and then I’ll know.”

Bishop looks up at her for a few seconds, then opens her mouth, but no sounds emerge. Suddenly, the look in Maggie’s eyes becomes unbearably sad. Before Amy can utter a sound, Maggie rolls them both over until she’s on top, then slides off of Amy and rises to her feet.

“They’re … they’re not my secrets to tell.” She stands there, naked, tears rolling down her face. “And if you knew my secrets … all of our secrets … we could be in danger. All of us … and you.”

She scrambles around the room, picking up her clothes and putting them on while Amy looks on, frozen and confused. “Oh God, I am so sorry. I’ve been so selfish. Damn it, I just didn’t think. I wanted you so much, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t think about what it would mean to someone else to take what I wanted. I just … just …”

Maggie practically runs to the door, then turns and looks back.

“I am so sorry, Amy. Just … don’t look for me. I’m nothing but trouble, and you deserve better.”

The door closes behind her, and Amy, her mind spinning, finally speaks.

“I … deserve you.”

###

Bateau disconnects and puts down the smart phone with a muffled sigh. He has just spent well over an hour on the phone, booking half a floor in the Fountainbleu with a draft on Senor Aldafieri’s Swiss account, and impressing on the hotel manager how extremely important it was that the Contessa’s presence there remain a secret.

“It is always better to run a con like that face to face,” he says, almost to himself. “There is only so much one can do over a telephone to sell a story. In the end, I didn’t truly have him on the hook until the money from Switzerland cleared. I feel … cheated, Michael.”

“Sorry to hear that, old son,” Finn replies, his attention split between Bateau and the piece of software gently hacking its way into the Italian State Department’s server in Washington, D.C. “I know how much you like doin’ your thing in person.”

He turns and looks over at the grifter. “You know, you could have flown there and done the ‘preparing the way for Her Worshipfulness’ gig on site.”

“I know, but I did not feel I could leave. Bishop is still … fragile.” Bateau rises from the sofa and walks over to the in-suite bar. The hacker raises an eyebrow.

“She seems almost normal t’me … well, except for the makeup, and the clothes, and the fact that she’s a she.” He shrugs. “And the fact that she seems a lot more okay with the ‘being a she’ part than she used to be.”

The larger man pours a drink as he shakes his head. “This Amy person she met … whoever she is, she has done much to help her these past few days, that is true. But I believe there is still a part of Maggie that is fighting her change. I am not sure what we can do to fix that … how to lay that demon to rest.”

The front door clicks and swings open, and Bishop rushes into the suite, red-faced from crying. She runs across to her room so quickly that neither man can say a word before she pushes open the door and disappears within. The door swings shut behind her.

For a moment, all is silence. Bateau turns slowly and looks at Finn. The hacker looks back, then shakes his head.

“Sorry, friend. This one is all yours.” Bateau cocks his head slightly, and Finn shrugs. “We both know I’m an awkward bastard. Always have been. And what I don’t know about women could fill the Internet. But she’s hurting, Bateau. She needs us … well, one of us, and you know as well as I do, it’s sure as Hell not me.”

The Frenchman sighs, then nods and puts down his glass. Taking a deep breath, he walks resolutely across to her door and knocks gently.

“Mon ami?”

Silence. Bateau tries the knob and finds the door unlocked. He swings it open slowly, and sees Bishop curled into a ball on her bed.

He approaches her slowly, and sits down on the edge of the bed.

“I love her, Bateau.” Bishop’s voice, half-muffled by the bedspread, is still full of pain.

“This Amy?” She nods without raising her head.

Bateau lets a bit of music into his voice, hoping to lull her to face him. “And this is a bad thing?”

“I can’t have her.”

“Why?”

“Because she would have to know … about us.”

It is his turn to nod, even though she cannot see.

“Does she love you?” She takes a breath that makes her whole body shudder in a half-sob, and turns just a little so she can see his face. The pain in her eyes stabs his heart.

“Yes, she does. And that makes it worse. I didn’t think things through, and now both of us get to suffer.”

Bateau reaches out and puts his hand gently on her shoulder.

“Love is never about thinking,” he says softly. “And the two of you have fallen in love too fast for it to be anything but love.”

She raises her head further, clearly confused. He sighs.

“Oh, cher, there are so many ways to find love. Slow and steady, over time, or suddenly, like a lightning bolt. But love is love, and you can’t just turn it off, anymore than you can find love when love is not there to find.”

“What am I supposed to do, then?”

He pats her shoulder and stands suddenly.

“For now, rest, mon ami.” He looks down at her, a small smile on his face. “Do you trust me?”

She nods. “You know I do.”

“Then sleep. Things will be better when you wake, I promise.”

Bishop hesitates a moment, nods, and lowers her head, eyes closing. Bateau stands for a few moments, watching her as she lays there. Eventually, her breathing becomes regular, and he knows she is asleep.

‘Even though her heart was broken a few moments before, she sleeps. Why? Because she trusts me,’ he thinks, and his lip twitches, just a little. ‘She trusts me to fix this for her, because I told her I would. And so I shall.’

As quietly as he can, Bateau makes his way out of her room and closes the door behind him. He stands for a few moments, thinking. Although Finn notices him when he first comes out, he returns to his own work and leaves Bateau to do what he does best.

“Finn?”

The hacker hits a few more keys and stops, then turns to face the Frenchman. “Yeah?”

“I am about to do something that could be insanely stupid.”

“That’s not like you.” Finn looks him in the eye. “But it’s for her, isn’t it?”

“Oui.”

“Will it make her happy?”

“I believe so,” he replies. “Or possibly kill us all, in the end. There is always an element of risk, as you know. Do you trust me?”

“Do you even have ta ask?” Finn shakes his head. “With my life and all, ya daft plonker. I shouldn’t hafta say it out loud after all we’ve been through together.”

Bateau nods once, and heads for the door.

“Bateau?” He stops and turns to look at Finn. The hacker stands up. “If there’s anything you can do to make her smile again, do it. Hang the risk. Hang everything. I’ll not watch her tear herself apart again, not after seein’ her just gettin’ on with it the past few days.”

“I will hold you to that, my friend.” Bateau says, and Finn watches as the door to the suite closes behind him.

###

Amy wanders around the apartment, wearing a long lavender sweater and black leggings she threw on quickly when Maggie left. She had rushed outside to try and catch her before she could get too far, but she failed. In the hours since, all of Amy’s attempts to find where Maggie had disappeared to had crashed and burned.

She did manage to find out that Maggie had asked mall services to send all of their purchases from the other day to a hotel, to someone named Aldafieri. Unfortunately, the hotel refused to admit any such person was staying there, leaving her wondering just what she was supposed to do next.

She has almost convinced herself to drive over to the hotel and wait for Maggie to show up in the lobby, but a knock at the door pushes that idea from her head. Amy rushes to the door and opens it without thinking, hoping Maggie has come back on her own. Instead of the woman she loves, a huge bearded man in a dark Italian suit fills the hallway. He looks down at her with a small smile.

“Ms. Tilson? I am a friend of Maggie Bishop. My name is Bateau. May I come in?”

At the mention of Maggie’s name, Amy steps back to let the huge well-dressed man into her apartment. He smiles at her and nods his head in thanks as he steps past her, then turns and take her hand.

“You are the one who has brought Bishop back to us,” he says softly, “at least part of the way. I wanted to thank you personally for that.”

Bringing her hand up to his lips, he kisses it softly. Amy feels a warmth spread through her, just for an instant. Looking up at her, he gives her hand a small squeeze, then releases it.

Bateau turns and looks over the apartment, then motions to the sofa in the living room.

“May we sit? I feel we need to talk.”

Amy thinks for a moment, then nods and leads the way. She leaves the sofa to him and settles on a chair across from it. Bateau takes note of this, and he nods approvingly as he lowers himself onto the much softer couch.

“Very well done, Ms. Tilson. Putting some distance between the two of us, and leaving me the piece of furniture from which rising would take more time, giving you more time to flee … or fight. Of course, you have nothing to fear from me, but you don’t know that, so caution is always a wise policy.”

“Are you … Abramo Aldafieri?”

“Ah, you followed the trail back to the hotel. I begin to see what she sees in you.” He grins, and she feels an irrational need to smile back at him. Looking away, she shakes her head.

“I was very motivated. And worried.” Her tone is even and measured. “Are you Aldafieri?”

“In a way. Now and always, I am Bateau, but there are times when Senor Aldafieri has his uses. At the moment, he is a useful name to hide behind.”

“Are you hiding, Mr. Bateau?”

“We are all hiding, Ms. Tilson, Bishop included. She told you something of what happened to her?” Amy nods. “That unfortunate event has put us all in a difficult position. People are hunting for her. We did our best to make them think she is dead, but they may still be looking for her, and by extension, myself and her other associate, Mister Finn. That is why she ran from you today.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” Amy leans forward. “She knows I’m not a threat. I love her.”

He sighs. “Ah, you misunderstand. She ran because you love her, and she loves you. She believes she might become a threat, to you. Oh, at first she ran because she did not feel that she could share our secrets with you, even though she loves you. She also believed she would be putting Mister Finn and myself in danger without our consent. And she knew that, as much as she wanted to, she could not tell you what was going on without putting you in danger as well. So she left you and ripped her own heart out to protect you.”

“But that’s … that’s crazy. What the hell are you people, spies? Assassins?”

“Before I answer that question, I need you to answer one. An important one. Do you love her? I mean, truly love her.”

She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Do you love her enough to risk all that you have to be with her?”

Bateau sees the confusion in her eyes, and reaches out to take her hand.

“I do not ask this lightly,” he says softly. “Finn and I … we love her, too. Enough to put our lives and hers in your hands, based only on the fact that she loves you. We both agreed that we would tell you everything. But if we do this … if I do this … then you will hold all of our lives in your hands. Also, knowing who we are and what we do will make you one of us, and that will put you in danger as well. There is a chance you might have to leave everything you have behind and run, at a moment’s notice. Because there are people who will want to kill you, because you are one of us. Do you understand?”

Amy nodded once, slowly.

“So … do you love her enough to risk all that you have?”

She looks down at her hand, resting gently in his, then looks back at his face, seeing only concern. “Have you ever been in love, Mr. Bateau?”

“Yes.”

She smiles. “Then you already know the answer.

Bateau returns her smile, and gives her hand a squeeze before releasing it.

“Well, then,” he says, sitting back on the sofa with a twinkle in his eye. “Welcome to our merry band, Ms. TIlson. Now … about the ‘family business.’ It all began with a movie about a noble thief in green tights, with a rather unusual mission statement …”

###

Bishop stares up at the ceiling, listening to the silence and wondering what to do next.

‘I can’t just lie here forever,’ she thinks. ‘As appealing as that option might be, boredom would chase me out of bed eventually. I really should do something, but that would mean committing to rejoining life as we know it, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.’

A smile touches her lips for an instant, as she thinks about the emotional roller coaster her life has become. So many years in control of her life, her destiny, reduced to this one moment in time — a beautiful woman crying her eyes out for the loss of a love she could never have had in the first place. It really was all her fault, after all. She should never have lied to herself, or thought she could really find love. It wasn’t fair to Amy, or to herself, let alone to Bateau and Finn.

She sighs. Being responsible is a bitch.

There is a knock on the door.

“Cher?”

Maggie raises her head and turns towards the voice. The door swings open slightly.

“Bateau?”

“The one and only.” He smiles briefly at her, then the smile disappears. “We must talk. Finn and I have discovered a problem with the task we have undertaken in Florida, and thus require your counsel.”

She sighs, her eyes closing for a few seconds as she decides what to do next. Shall she live again, or curl up in a ball and wait for reality to go away? She shakes her head, then rolls over and sits up at the edge of the bed.

“Give me a minute, please?”

“Of course.” Bateau withdraws and she walks to the bathroom, the sensuous glide as she walks no longer anything more than a way to move from place to place. When she realizes this, she stops, just for an instant, to consider what that means.

‘I have Amy to thank for that,’ she thinks as she brushes her hair. ‘For so much …’

For a moment, the sadness rises up, but she pushes it away.

“The job first,” she whispers to her reflection. “Grief comes later.”

When she walks into the living room of the suite, Bateau is standing by Finn, still at his keyboard.

"Do you remember our conversation the other day, about what your clothing says about you, and how important that is in what we do?"

Bishop nods, and Bateau smiles. "Now, ever since what happened to you, you have been struggling with what to wear and how to present yourself. If we are to punish Mister Straker for the things he’s done, we must make him believe you are an Italian contessa. We must move very soon, in order to arrive at his hotel a few days prior to the event. But you lack the ability to present yourself appropriately. You will need expensive European fashions, including evening wear and even swimwear, since we will be in Florida.”

Bateau steps forward and takes her gently by the shoulders. "In short, in order for you to successfully pretend to be a contessa, we will need an expert in choosing the appropriate make-up and clothing to present precisely the impression we wish to make.”

She looks up at him, and her bottom lip begins to quiver.

“How fortunate for us all … that you’ve managed to find one.” He leans down, kisses her forehead softly, and turns her towards the suite’s small kitchen.

Amy is there, arms crossed, leaning against the door jam.

“You didn’t think I’d let the woman I love run off on me, did you?” Her tone is playful, but her eyes are serious, full of an emotion that takes hold of Bishop’s heart and won’t let go. “I only just found you, baby. I’m not about to let you go, not ever. Love isn’t something you let go of without one hell of a fight.”

Time blinks, and Bishop finds herself in Amy’s arms, holding her tight. She tilts her head back and looks up to find Amy smiling down on her.

“So you’re a world-class thief with a heart of gold?” Bishop nods once, and the smile becomes a grin. “Damn, girl, that is so sexy.”

“You know … about us?”

“Hell yes, baby. Bateau came to me and told me everything.”

Bishop looks over at Bateau, and he gives her an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

‘Not quite everything,’ she thinks, and wonders if that one last lie is a good thing.

She looks back at Amy. “You know … it’s dangerous, being one of us.”

“I know.” The other woman shrugs. “So is crossing a street full of pit vipers and alligators, but I’ll risk it … if you’re on the other side.”

Maggie melts inside, just a little, and buries her face in Amy’s chest. “You say the sweetest things.”

Amy touches her chin, raising her face, and when Bishop looks into her eyes, Amy kisses her softly.

“Only because they’re true,” she replies.

Bishop raises her voice. “Finn? You’re okay with this?”

“She makes you happy, Your Holiness. I’d have ta be the king of all the fuckin’ asshats who ever lived to get between you and happiness.” She turns her head and sees him smile. “Besides, we need her as much as you do, yeah?”

“I doubt that,” the thief replies, smiling back. “But … thanks.”

“So, we have a timetable, mon ami,” Bateau says, and both Amy and Bishop turn towards him. “The party in Miami is in four days, and we must be at the hotel in two to establish our trip as unrelated. Amy, can you make our pretty partner a princess … or at least a contessa … by then?”

“Indeed I can, Mister Bateau.”

“Just Bateau, please,” he replies. “After all, we are family now.”

“Well, then, brother, this girl is on the job. We’ll hit the stores ASAP, Maggie. Some exclusive spots, high-end stuff. But first, I’m thinking somebody needs a shower.”

Bishop sighs. “I do?”

“No, honey, we both do!” She turns the thief around and pushes her towards the bathroom door. “We smell like we had a terrific time last night, which we did, but a contessa can’t stink like this and expect the best service at the local shops. Neither can her best friend and constant companion.”

“Friend?”

“Well, an Italian Contessa would have at least one woman in her entourage to pal around with, don’t you think? I can’t be seen as your lover if you’re gonna have a clear path towards seducing this Straker sleaze, if you need to.”

She slips an arm around Maggie and walks her to the bathroom while Bateau and Finn watch. “So friend I am and friend I’ll be, and more than that, always. But as your personal shopper and your friend, I really do need to tell you something.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I know that you’re supposed to be Robin Hood and all, but Mags? Seriously, green is so not your color.”

The bathroom door closes behind them both.

###

“Lou? I may have somethin’.”

Lou Rossi looks up from the stack of spreadsheets in his hands to see Donnie “Three Fingers” DeLuca at the door.

“What something?”

“Magdalene.”

Rossi tosses the papers onto the desk and waves DeLuca into the room. “Talk to me.”

“I’ve been lookin’ into the strip club where this Bishop guy got whacked. The Arab was there that night, a lot earlier.”

“Khaleel was there?”

“Yeah. Check this out.”

DeLuca puts a tablet on Rossi’s desk. Lou looks at it like it's a snake. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a tablet, Lou.”

“Okay, fine, so it’s a tablet. What am I supposed to do with it?”

DeLuca sighs. “Listen, the parking lot at the strip club had cameras, in case they had problems with a customer or car thieves or whatever. Maybe whoever owned the club blackmailed the guys who came there, I don’t know. But we got access to the recordings, and I got copies on the tablet, and I’m gonna show ‘em to you, okay?”

Rossi puts up both hands. “Hey! Donnie, don’t go gettin’ pissed at me. I’m a print guy, okay? I don’t do technology. To me, a tablet is somethin’ you take when you got a headache.”

DeLuca reaches down and touches the screen. It wakes up, and he presses “Play.” Khaleel is getting out of a car in front of the building. He slams the door, bangs once in the top of the car, and it drives away. Then he turns and walks towards the back of the building. Donnie hits the “Pause” button on screen.

“The time stamp says he got there four hours before this guy Bishop gets whacked by Gino’s men. Four hours, Lou. And not only is he there early, he sends his car away instead of having his guys wait for him. What’s up with that?”

Lou stares down at the screen, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. “You think maybe a meet, Donnie?”

Donnie nods. “Maybe he was gonna meet Bishop. Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise.”

“When you looked at the video, did you see Bishop come in?”

“You remember the guy’s pic. He wants to blend in, he blends in. So when he comes in to meet Khaleel, he's just another tired regular lookin’ for a little fantasy.”

Rossi taps the screen once, is surprised as the video moves forward for an instant, then taps it again to make it stop. “Sounds about right. That would explain why Khaleel sent his car away, to keep the mook from figuring out who he is from his guys. But this Bishop, he was a nobody. Why go to all this trouble, sending the car away? Why show up so early?”

“Maybe it was blackmail.” DeLuca paces a little behind Rossi’s chair. “Maybe this Bishop guy had somethin’ he wanted, and the Arab threatened him with tellin’ everybody he’s Magdalene unless he delivered.”

“But he wasn’t Magdalene!”

“Well, yeah, we know that. But Khaleel had plenty of evidence that said he was. Maybe he showed it to him, to get him to agree to Khaleel’s terms or else.”

“But he had already showed us that stuff. Bishop was blown anyway.”

“That’s true,” Donnie counters, “but maybe Bishop didn’t know that.”

“You think he was conning the mark?”

“Hey, he screwed us, didn’t he? And if he screwed us, you think he didn’t have it in him to screw Bishop, too? Especially since Bishop would be very dead before morning if his plan worked.”

Rossi looks at DeLuca. “This ain’t looking good.”

Donnie shook his head. “It gets worse.”

He reaches down and taps the “Fast Forward” button, and the image scrolls forward. The time stamp shows minutes as seconds, and Lou watches intently as the parking lot empties, until it’s nothing but asphalt under fluorescent lights. Lou reaches out and stops the playback.

“Khaleel never left.”

“Not through that door, anyway. And we searched the place from roof to basement, and got nothin’.”

Lou swivels his chair around and looks up at Donnie. “When the Arab got there, he walked away from that door, towards the back. What’s in the back?”

“Stage door, loading dock. Fence runs around the outside, so access is limited to where the camera sees. Anything that comes and goes gets recorded. Trust me, Khaleel never left.” Donnie reaches for the tablet. “But someone else came in. Check this out.”

He runs the video back two hours, and the parking lot is still mostly full. He presses “play” and then “slow.” A large black shadow slips into view for a split second and disappears.

“What the hell was that?”

“Somebody dressed in black. Can’t see his face, but he’s a big guy. And he’s not alone. Check this out.”

Donnie hits “play” again, then “fast forward” for a few seconds before hitting “pause.” A smaller figure is frozen, running towards the back.

“Two of ‘em.” Rossi grunts and tilts his head. “Still can’t see his face. What the fuck is going on?”

“It gets better.” Donnie hits “fast forward,” and the time counter moves for a while before he punches “play” again. The speed goes back to normal as the smaller figure runs out from behind the club. A few seconds later, a white van pulls up by the side of the building, license plates not visible. The larger figure climbs in the back, still half in shadow. A second after that, someone new enters the picture at the corner of the building, and Donnie hits “pause.”

“Who’s the blonde?”

“Probably one of the strippers. We talked to the floor manager for that night. It turns out one girl cut out on her last set, and somebody else had to take her place. A blonde, stacked, named Moira. The picture’s too blurry to know for sure, but it’s a good bet that’s her.”

He hits “play” again, and she climbs awkwardly into the back of the van. The door slams shut and it drives away. Donnie picks up the tablet and shuts it down, then walks to in front of the desk and sits in one of the chairs there.

“So, Khaleel never leaves, but he’s not there when the hit goes down on Bishop. The two new guys come in and leave like they’re on a mission or somethin’, and the broad cuts out on her job and goes with them.”

Rossi sits back and looks at Donnie across the desk. “Did you try to find her?”

“Tried, and failed. She worked off the books, and Moira is the only name she gave ‘em. Some of the other girls said she kept to herself, didn’t talk a lot about life away from the club.”

DeLuca stands up. “You want me to keep looking?”

Lou stares into space for a minute, then nods slowly. “Yeah, I think you need to. She’s the only other loose end we got for the night Khaleel went into that club and didn’t come out again. She may have nothin’ to do with it, but if we think that, it buys us nothin’. So we find her.”

“On it, boss.” Donnie turns and heads for the door. Rossi turns his chair around and looks at the skyline as he hears the door close behind him.

‘I hate mysteries,’ he thinks, rerunning the video in his head. ‘But this one’s too big to ignore.”

‘I just hope solving it takes us somewhere we want to go … and that we got some answers waiting for us when we get there.’

###

© 2013. Posted by the author.