Page 7 of Buck Baxter and the Mysteries of Love

“I’m not entirely sure, but this unlocked door makes me think we’re not the only ones looking for it.”

I stepped inside the room with Stella on myheels, almost literally. I closed the door behind us. “Harry believes his mother is having an affair. What we want to know is the identity of the fella involved.”

“Or fellas,” Stella pointed out. “Lanky Larry practically said there was a Roman orgy going on up here.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. There’s no real evidence yet that Mrs. Hart is even having an affair.”

“I think those stained sheets on the bed would beg to differ.”

“Given the state of this place there’s no telling if those are new or old. Just start searching the room, would ya? The gentleman could have dropped something out of his wallet or left a matchbook from his favorite dive bar behind. It’s not like the maid does a bang-up job of tidying up. There could be anything in here that might give us a lead.”

I started with the unemptied trashcan under the writing desk while Stella looked under the bed. I found nothing but a shriveled brown apple core, a scrunched-up cigarette packet and a chewed-up ball of gum that looked as though it had turned as hard as stone. Meanwhile, Stella crawled out from under the bed and dusted her hands off.

“Anything under there?”

“Not unless you wanna question a big dead rat to see what he knows.”

I turned to the closet and opened the door.

Unfortunately, I didn’t see the fist till it clocked me square in the face.

I stumbled backward and fell on my ass on the floor.

The closet doors flew open and a goon with a patch over one eye lunged at me.

Stella screamed.

The goon landed on top of me and threw another punch while I was down, this time hitting me in the jaw.

Stella grabbed the trashcan and tried to wallop the guy overthe head, but he shoved her so hard she hit the ground and slid across the room.

I tried to fight back, but the grinning one-eyed goon seized my fist and began crushing it. He laughed and uttered something in German.

I replied by kneeing him as hard as I could in the balls.

He gasped in pain, let go of my fist, and I smashed my knuckles into his nose.

He staggered backward and I reached for him, grabbing the lapel of his jacket.

I was about to throw another punch, but he yanked free of my grasp, lurching backward and stumbling for the door.

I pulled myself off the floor and tried to race after him, but my head was spinning and by the time I teetered out the door, the goon had already disappeared down the stairwell.

I turned back to the room and helped Stella up. “You okay?”

“Better than you,” she said, sizing up my face and pulling the handkerchief out of the breast pocket of my jacket before dabbing it to my cheek which was wet with blood. “He really walloped you good.”

I winced. “Ow. That hurts.”

“Don’t be such a big baby, I’m tryin’ to clean you up before you bleed all over the floor. God knows this poor room don’t needyouadding to its woes.”

“I wasn’t saying ‘ow’ to the cheek.” I looked down at my still bunched-up fist and opened my palm.

Stella followed my gaze as we both looked down at a lapel pin sticking into my finger.

I winced again as I pulled it out of my finger, then turned it over in my hand to see the emblem on the front.

“What’s that?” Stella asked, unfamiliar with the criss-crossed symbol in my hand.

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