Page 21 of Spies Like Us

My dad refers to his father-in-law as “the king,” even to his face. My grandfather gets a kick out of how irreverent my dad is since he’s used to everyone kissing his ass. Mind you, it’s because he loves his daughter and she very, very much loves my dad. If it were anyone else, he’d probably have them beheaded.

“Yeah, I’m trying, Dad, I promise,” I assure him.

“Oh, and call Katie. She said you have a thing, and you haven’t spoken to her since you hit Georgia,” he tells me.

“I’ll call her as soon as I get a chance. I may need you to send the jet so I can make a quick appearance as Princess Kensington. I promised Katie I’d go with her,” I tell him.

“Just tell me when,” he replies, and we say our goodbyes. It was nice hearing his voice, and I feel a lot more settled now, the ick factor from church gone.

I shove the phone into my bag and lean back, closing my eyes and soaking up the midday sun for a moment. Hopefully Bishop’s body will turn up in a day or two, and we can make some more progress. I’m done with small-town USA and ready to be back into international intrigue, because despite all the drug dealers, crooked politicians, and criminals I’ve had to take down, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt as icky as I did in that confessional. I’m not religious, but there is something very wrong with what that pastor is doing. It’s sacrilegious as well as criminal.

If I get a chance to arrest that asshole, I swear I’m going to enjoy it.

Chapter 9

Ilost track of where Martha and her group of friends went for lunch, but when I hit Main Street, the Mug Shot diner that I saw the guys in the other day is full of people. I can see both Dayton’s and Ryland’s cars parked in front. I guess they got there quicker by driving while I was on the phone with Dad.

I desperately need to pee, and I’m starving and need coffee, so I head inside. I’m greeted by a teenager who offers to show me to a seat, but I just want to grab some food and go. It’s super noisy with laughter and voices, so I’m assuming the church crowd has filled it to capacity. I see Stella, Max, Dayton, and Anders at one booth and Ryland, Lathan, Miller, and the girls at another. I don’t want to sit at either of those tables and be subjected to snide, catty remarks while I’m eating. I ask the girl for a menu and place an order to go—grilled cheese, a cup of tomato soup, and a caramel macchiato. While it’s being made, I head in the direction of the bathroom. I don’t take long, but when I walk back, I pass a private dining room. The door is mostly closed, but it looks like whoever entered last didn’t shut the door properly.

“We have to move that body from the tunnels and plant it somewhere now that he’s been reported missing. How did he get there in the first place? And which one of you idiots shot him?” I hear someone say. I stop and look at the decorations on the wall next to the private dining room. Luckily for me, there are photos of famous celebrities who have all eaten at the Mug Shot over the years.

“It wasn’t me, but I sent Billy to deal with it while we’re at lunch.” I’m assuming that’s the chief of police.

“Yes, that’s a complication we didn’t need. It’s all well and good getting rid of dead weight with no family or friends, but that kid was the son of Governor Turner’s aide. There are going to be questions,” I hear someone else grumble.

“And we will make those questions go away. Don’t worry, we’ve got this. It’s not our first rodeo,” someone else reassures the grumbler.

“I think we need to have another club night sooner rather than later. We need to lock the Turner brothers down. We need some more blackmail material. We have Max Turner fucking that street kid in his office, but I want something on the younger brother too. He’s a fag, so it should be easy enough if we offer him that other foster kid of yours, James, that he seems to have taken a liking to.” Just like we suspected, they are going to use that footage to keep him under their thumb. We really need to find out where they keep all that blackmail material. Once we take down this crew, we don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands.

I hear some muttering but can’t make out what’s said.

“There’s also a shipment coming in next week. We will store it below until we get a buyer.” That sounds like Ted, but I didn’t hear him talk enough to know for sure.

“Our patrons are getting impatient. They want to see the merchandise up for sale.” I don’t recognize that voice, but it’s definitely a male. I wonder if the women are in the room and listening intently.

“I’ll put up a sign saying that the Life Lounge will be closed for a private function on Friday. We’ll arrange a viewing of the products soon.” That’s definitely Matthew.

A commotion in the dining room has me spinning around, and I see Martha, June, Melissa, and Lisa walking toward me.

“Ah, Mackenzie, there you are.” Martha smiles, and her gaze goes to the photos in front of me. “Isn’t it exciting? All of those famous people have eaten here! The girls and I were just next door in the dress shop. It has some lovely things in it. Maybe you could ask Matthew for an advance on your wages so you can buy more clothes.”

“Yes, my Stella and Sophie got a lot of their wardrobe from there. It’s classy and sophisticated.” I can hear what June is saying. Unlike you!

“Maybe, but for now, I have food to collect and a history assignment to research for. Have a good lunch.” I tell them all goodbye and hurry past them, thankful they thought I was starstruck and not actually listening at the door.

I know the men are definitely involved. I look up and see a security camera in the hallway. I’ll get Lathan to hack it so we can get an accurate count of who is in the ring. Does that mean the women aren’t? They weren’t in the room. It’s looking like they may be completely innocent in all this and victims of their circumstance like the trafficked teens.

When I get back to the counter, my order is ready, so I thank the server and head back outside. The library isn’t far, so I walk in that direction. It’s a two-story brick building with arched windows, eight big columns in front, and large double glass doors at the entry. I push them open, and a cool breeze with the scent of books hits me in the face. I smile. I love libraries. They remind me of my dad’s office, both at home and at the Lighthouse. My grandfathers also have impressive libraries in the palace and estate.

I look around, but I can’t find a librarian or anyone to help me, so I wander until I find a cluster of chairs and a table, and then I make myself at home. I pull a pen and notepad out of my backpack as well as my phone before pushing them to the side and focusing on my food. I unwrap the foil-covered sandwich and take the lid off my soup. The smells that hit my nose are divine, and my stomach rumbles with encouragement. There’s probably a sign somewhere that says I can’t eat in here, but there’s no one around to tell me no, and I haven’t seen said sign. If I get caught, I’m going to plead ignorance.

Taking a bite of my grilled cheese is like a religious experience. The bread has the right amount of crunch while the cheese is hot, stringy, and tasty. After my first bite, I break it in half so I can dip a small portion into my soup. That doesn’t disappoint either. It’s creamy, tangy, and flavorful. I would love the recipe, because this is most definitely not from a can. I could live on this kind of comfort food when I’m home from assignment. It’s why my mom’s mac and cheese is one if my favorite things in the world.

It doesn’t take me long to devour my lunch, and once done, I get up and throw my garbage in a nearby trashcan. Sitting back down, I take a sip of my coffee and look around the area I’m sitting in. There are plenty of book-filled shelves, but I also see a bank of computers, as well as an old-fashioned card filing system from pre-computer days.

I decide my best bet will probably be searching the catalog. I consider using the old card filing system, but that will take a lot longer, and I need the time to explore, so I head for one of the computers and sit down. I grab the nearby mouse, and when I move it, the screen brightens with a welcome message.

Damn, it looks like I need a current Summerville library card to access their catalog. Now I’m going to have to find someone who works here.

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