When in Bruges (Humorous Romantic Mystery) (5 page)

K
ate and Lauren
pedaled by the offices of Alfonso Gnat’s outfit once, twice, and then a third time, before they were satisfied that the place had closed up for the day.

“Appears empty,” said Kate, looking up at the well-preserved ancient residence that, according to the bronze plaque next to the door, housed the offices of the Bruges Chronicle.

“Looks like,” agreed Lauren. “This should be a cinch.”

Passing by a fourth time, they were even more gratified to find no visible sign of activity in or around the premises. If this had been their own home turf, they’d simply come by car, parked across the street in order to put in at least a couple of hours of surveillance, and make absolutely sure the coast was clear. Unfortunately, they were not in that position, so after fastening their bicycles to a street lantern, they decided it was time to make a move.

Looking up and down the street and finding that nothing stirred, not even in that navy blue Toyota Corolla parked just across the road, Lauren took out the small pouch she’d bought, and proceeded to work her magic on the ancient lock.

Biting her lower lip while Kate tried to look as innocent as possible keeping an eye out for passersby, the lock finally clicked open, and Lauren heaved a long sigh of relief.

“And it’s open,” she whispered. “Your call, Miss Harper.”

“Thank you, Miss Huckleberry,” whispered back Kate.

“Do you have your flashlight?”

“Yep.”

“Your safecracking tools?”

“Yup.”

“Then go for it, honey. I’ll be here if you need me, okay?”

“Great. See you in five. Or ten. Or—”

“See you when I see you,” said Lauren, and held up her fist. Kate took a deep breath, and bumped it with her own.

“Wish me luck,” she said.

“Luck,” grinned Lauren, and gave her a wink.

Watching Kate disappear into the house, Lauren casually crossed the street—just a tourist out on an evening stroll, enjoying this part of the ancient town. She walked round the Toyota Corolla, and parked herself against a plane tree, then thought better of it and stepped inside the portico of a house. She crossed her fingers.

T
he moment Chris
had entered the building, he started having second thoughts about the way he’d conceived this venture. Since his father had urged him time was of the essence, and the best time to steal those pictures was now, he’d skipped a crucial step in the execution of any mission: the preparation and intel-gathering stage.

For one thing, he didn’t even know where this Gnat kept the stuff. His dad had assumed the safe, but in this digital age, people don’t keep pictures in a safe anymore. They store them on a computer hard drive, or worse, in the cloud. And Chris might be a lot of things, but a hacker he was not.

Then again, Alfonso Gnat was an old guy who, as far as Chris knew, still ran the Bruges Chronicle along the lines of pre-internet days, with only a paper edition being published.

Picking his way past what looked like the reception area, he shone his flashlight into a second, much larger space, where two wooden desks made up the entirety of what he assumed was the newsroom and heart of the newspaper. Trailing the beam along the wood-paneled walls, the dozens of cupboards and the ancient coffeemaker, he was disappointed not to find the elusive safe he’d been hoping for.

A door announced the office of ‘Editor-in-chief A. Gnat’ and Chris silently made his way over, eased open the door, and poked his head in. Shining his light around the sparsely furnished office, his heart skipped a beat when beyond a sturdy desk—a mahogany contraption laden with file folders, one ancient-looking computer, one potted plant and one picture of what he assumed was Mrs. Gnat—he suddenly spotted a good old-fashioned safe, complete with combination wheel and lever.

He quickly rounded the desk, and crouched in front of it. One look at the interior of the Bruges Chronicle GHQ had increased his hope that an operation as ancient as the one Gnat was running, would still keep its clandestine pictures safely locked up. He ran his eyes along the three feet high iron box that sat before him and heaved a contented sigh. Cracking this aged relic of a bygone era would pose no difficulty whatsoever.

Deftly, he unearthed from his backpack the small pouch he kept for occasions such as these. Positioning his flashlight so its beam gave him ample illumination, he cracked his knuckles, then his neck, and then lifted his fingers to select from his safecracking tool kit just the right instrument.

And he was just about to extract a very promising tool from his kit, when a harsh voice sounded in his rear.

“Stick ‘em up!”

Instantly, Chris stuck ‘em up, for the voice had sounded like it meant business.

“Move away from the safe!”

Chris inched sideways, his back still turned to his anonymous assailant.

“Be quick about it! Move! Move! Move!”

Chris shuffled in the direction of the desk, wondering how he was going to extricate himself from this particular imbroglio.

“Stop! Don’t move!”

“Well, what is it?” said Chris, peeved. “Do I move or not? Make up your mind already, will you?”

The voice remained silent for a spell, and Chris wondered if he’d pissed it off. His former boss, the police commissioner, had often deemed it necessary to point out a rebellious streak in Chris, which had irked that rotund man a great deal. Like the night Chris had broken into the commissioner’s home after an anonymous tip had hinted at marijuana plants in the basement. The only thing he’d found was a very irate commissioner and a one-month suspension without pay.

“Turn around slowly,” next spoke the voice, and now he noticed for the first time it belonged to a woman. And what was more, it sounded strangely familiar.

Turning around—slowly, as indicated—he found himself face to face with… no one. Whoever was addressing him kept herself in the shadows next to the door.

“Keep ‘em up, chump,” the muffled voice sounded once again. “Lemme see your face. Oh, Christ!”

This last exclamation followed a close scrutiny of Chris’s face by the stranger after blinding him with a flashlight.

“Not Christ. Chris,” murmured Chris, unable to refrain from making silly remarks.

“Chris!” yelled his assailant.

“That’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” said Chris with a levity he wasn’t feeling. Inwardly, he groaned. Why couldn’t he just keep his trap shut? Now he’d revealed his name to this harbinger of bad news. As far as he could ascertain, the masked marauder was either a cop or a security guard on Gnat’s pay role. Either way, he was done for. And where the hell was Kirt?

To his surprise, his unknown assailant suddenly stepped out of the shadows into the soft light streaming in through the window from the street.

Now it was Chris’s turn to gasp in shock. For he found himself gazing into the lovely face of the only woman he’d ever loved, the woman who’d stolen his heart and had promptly reduced it to ground beef, leaving it to whither and die.

He gulped like a stricken bulldog puppy, then finally said, in a raspy voice, “Kate!”

I
t hadn’t taken
Kate long to realize she wasn’t alone in the building. Even before venturing deeper into the compound, the flickering light from a torch warned her of other trespassers on the premises.

“I should have known,” she muttered under her breath as she surreptitiously crept closer to the source of the light.

If this Alfonso Gnat was even half the blackmailing fiend her father had made him out to be, there were probably countless other victims out there, dying to get their hands on his private collection. If the idea of raiding his safe had occurred to Kate, it had no doubt occurred to the others as well.

Taking position behind the door, she watched the kneeling figure in the dark for a spell, noticing with some satisfaction that her theory proved correct: the guy had laid out his pouch of tools, and was now about to pick the lock of the safe. For a moment, she wavered between letting him open the thing for her, and then intervening, or taking him down straightaway.

She decided on the latter course of action as the most fair and square. She was, after all, a big girl, and didn’t need anyone to open her safes for her.

“Stick ‘em up, buster!” she yelled. For even though she wasn’t in the possession of a gun, her opponent didn’t know that. Her plan was to induce this competing burglar to take a hike, and then, once the coast was clear, to go about her business undisturbed.

She had to hand it to him: her competitor sure was one muscular specimen. As he rose to his feet, his back turned, she admired his strong build. It reminded her of Chris, the man who’d broken her heart. He, too, had been built along the lines of a Sherman tank, with his powerful shoulders, broad chest, massive arms…

“Move away from the safe!”

Though athletic, the guy moved at a snail’s pace, obviously stalling for time. Did he have a gun concealed in his belt?

“Be quick about it! Move! Move! Move!”

Her opponent had reached the desk, and she realized this was not a good thing. At all. He could easily dive behind it for cover, and take a shot at her.

“Stop! Don’t move!”

“Well, what is it?” the other said. “Do I move or not? Make up your mind already, will you?”

Strange, Kate thought. The voice of this fellow sounded oddly familiar. Sounded, in fact, just like Chris’s voice. No. It couldn’t be…

“Turn around slowly,” she said, dying to take a good look at the man. Urging him to keep his hands raised, she shone her light straight at his upturned face and gasped in shock. “Christ!”

“Not Christ, Chris,” said Chris.

It was him! “Chris!”

How could this be? Where had he suddenly sprung from? What the hell was going on? For a moment, the floor which, until now, had seemed so strong, wobbled under her feet, and she almost lost her balance, her knees shaking, her legs buckling, just like they had back at the
Bouquets & Nosegays
that morning.

There was no point in keeping up the charade, and she stepped out of the shadows to reveal her own face, wanting to confront Chris with open visor.

He gasped in shock the moment she revealed herself to him, and gazed at her, eyes wide.

“Kate?”

“What are you doing here?”

Her brawny attitude had melted like ice before the summer sun, and she felt weak and vulnerable as Chris’s eyes raked over her, drinking her in.

“I’m… on a job,” he said curtly, regaining his composure. She stiffened. Was that all he could say? Once again, he was so formal it infuriated her. This man, the man she once felt so close to, acted so distant and cold she hardly recognized him. His behavior slashed across her heart, opening the old wound again. But two could play that game. She wouldn’t let him see how much it hurt to see him like this.

“A job? Burgling houses? What are you, a thief?”

“I already told you this morning. I’m a detective now.” Chris said morosely, refusing to meet her gaze. “The question is, what are
you
doing here?”

“That’s none of your business,” she said.

He waited for her to supply further details, and when she wasn’t forthcoming—nothing could induce her to confide in this man—he finally relented.

“If you must know, I’m retrieving some pictures for a client of mine, all right?”

Kate glowered. “What pictures?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential,” said Chris, still refusing to look at her.

She took in his profile, now clearly visible in the light from the street: he was as handsome as ever; all dark curls, chiseled cheekbones, full lips and slightly crooked nose. He’d broken it once, he’d told her, playing hide and seek with his cousin and falling from the tree he’d selected as his hiding place of choice.

She gave herself a little shake. Ancient history.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” she said. “You’re here to get some pictures for someone. So am I. Why don’t we open the safe together, get what we came here for and go our separate ways?”

He frowned. “You’re also here for pictures?”

“Yes, I am. So what do you say?”

“Pictures of…”

“Like I said, that’s none of your business.”

A set look came into his face, and he nodded once. “All right. You get your stuff and I get mine. No questions asked.”

“Great.”

“Fine.”

His jaw working, Chris knelt down in front of the safe, while Kate stood watching over him. She just hoped he’d be quick about it. She really didn’t want to spend more time with this man than was strictly necessary. Since arriving in Bruges that morning, she’d already met him twice. What were the odds? She knew Bruges was a small town, but not so small that they should keep running into each other.

“Is it open yet?” she said impatiently, tapping her foot.

“No, it’s not,” he growled. “Give me a minute, will you?”

Pursing her lips, she watched him work. He’d obviously done this before, for he expertly applied the tools of the trade with practiced ease. Of course, a private detective must be proficient in all aspects of the job. She couldn’t help admire the deftness with which he worked, focused and at ease, his hands going about their business with a certain elegance.

She remembered how those hands had felt on her body the one night they spent together. It had been glorious, the high point of her life. He’d been the first man to ever touch her like that, with so much loving tenderness, his gentle caress stirring her to heights she’d never before experienced. Lying in his arms, she’d felt so loved, so protected, so wonderful…

She cleared her throat. “Well? How much longer is this gonna take?”

He looked up and gave her a cold stare that should have shut her up, but she’d be damned if it did.

“I really don’t have all night, you know,” she said after a moment’s pause. She wanted him to look at her, not ignore her, and this seemed as good a way as any to accomplish that particular goal.

He gave her another glare, and she felt the shivers running down her spine. Oh, why did he still affect her so? She should be indifferent by now. At least she hadn’t burst into tears yet, like that morning. Good thing he hadn’t seen it. It would have made his triumph complete. Men like Chris Van Damme lived and died to sweep women off their feet, talk them into their bed and then brutally dump them after a single night.

Tilting up her chin, she said, “Let me have a try. You obviously don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know perfectly well what I’m doing,” he said. “I’m almost there.”

“Almost isn’t good enough,” she said coldly. “Let me try.”

“No, I’ve got this!” he said, now fiddling furiously with the safe’s knob.

Kate gave him a half-hearted shove, wanting to get her hands on the thing herself, and Chris gave her a shove back that abruptly landed her on her bum.

“Hey! Watch it!” she said, as her buttocks collided with an unyielding floor.

“Oh, hell. I’m sorry, Kate,” he said as he extended a hand to pull her up. A look of contrition had come into his eyes, and he appeared genuinely sorry. This was the Chris she knew. The kind and gentle man she’d fallen in love with. She took his offered hand gratefully, and joined him in a crouched position in front of the safe. They both sat there looking at the thing for what felt like a minute before he said, “Do you really know how to open it or were you just showing off?”

“I was just showing off,” Kate said.

“Me too,” he said. “I haven’t the foggiest how to crack this baby. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

Kate kinda liked camping out here with Chris in front of Alfonso’s safe. Somehow it felt cozy and almost like old times. Then suddenly she saw what he was holding in his hand. It looked like…

“Is that plastique?” she said, her eyes widening.

“Yup. Got it from Kirt. He brought it along as a last resort sort of thing. No idea where he got it.”

“Ebay?” she suggested. “Isn’t it illegal to carry around explosives?”

“Oh, sure,” he said. “Highly illegal.” He gave her a comical look. “What do you think?”

“Do it,” she said without hesitation. “It will teach this Gnat guy not to blackmail people.”

He looked up in surprise and she realized she’d probably said more than she should.

“He’s blackmailing… you?” he said, and she noticed the anger in his voice. So did he care about her after all? She really didn’t know what to think at this point.

“Not me,” she clarified, then decided to reveal all. “My dad Piet. Piet Peeters.”

“Piet Peeters is your dad?”

She nodded, wondering if she’d said too much.

“That’s quite a coincidence,” he said. “Gnat is blackmailing my dad, too. With some woman he’s been seeing. Some actress.”

“Funny,” she said. “My dad’s also been seeing some actress.”

They shared a look of surprise, then simultaneously blurted out, “Jeanie Geyser?”

They both laughed, in spite of themselves, as Chris did a head slap and groaned, “Our dads appear to share the same bad taste in women, don’t they?”

“They sure do,” agreed Kate. She quite liked to sit here next to Chris. It seemed so familiar, so safe, and she felt part of the resentment she’d harbored all this time fall away. They shared a smile, then Chris raised his eyebrows and said, “Let’s do this, shall we?”

“Let’s,” she agreed.

Suddenly, she felt his stare, and when she looked up, she noticed his eyes were fixed on her engagement ring. Briefly, a look of hurt flashed across his face, then his expression darkened and his face went blank.

“Better step back,” he grumbled as he meticulously started applying the explosives to the hinges of the safe door without deigning her another look.

She did step back, wondering all the while if what she’d seen could be true? Did Chris still harbor feelings for her? But why? And, more importantly, what was she going to do with this information?

Nothing, she quickly told herself. This is exactly why men like Chris were so dangerous: they couldn’t be in a room with a woman without feeling an instant attraction and acting upon it. The moment he was alone again, he’d instantly forget she even existed, while she would feel the hurt for weeks and months to come, just like before.

She gratefully fingered her engagement ring. It had probably saved her from a romantic entanglement she really didn’t need. Even a man like Chris wouldn’t make a move on a woman who was about to plight her troth to another man. At least he wasn’t
that
depraved.