Style, you
either have it or you
don't. And if you have it, you have it
all the time.The Rogue's Gambit
by Tux Toledo
Page 5
Ted
and James returned after the sun had turned the sky purple.
Ted led me into his living room. An entire wall was covered
by shelves holding knick-knacks from around the world. I
examined a few pieces while Ted pulled some cigars from a wooden box.
"I've got something for you," he said. "Cubans, of course."
"Of, course." I stuffed them into my pocket.
"Don't see why you want them, though. You don't smoke."
"Gifts," I said, thinking of the Penguin.
Ted nodded.
"Oh, and wait until you see this." He went to a handsome
walnut gun case, unlocked it, removed one of the shotguns and carefully
carried it to me.
"Nice," I said.
"It's an AAHE-grade Parker. I paid $38,000 for it."
I raised my eyebrows.
"Yes," Ted continued. "It was a real bargain. I've
seen them go for as much as 45k."
It was a beautiful shotgun all right. Not too much engraving
but meticulously crafted. It oozed precision.
"Oh, he's showing you that," Nancy growled as she carried four steaming
mugs of coffee into the room. "Give me a gun I can take out
in the wilds and shoot with. All that one is good for is
sitting in the case."
"Don't you use it?" I asked.
"No, it's a work of art," Ted said. "No true collector or
lover of shotguns would ever take one of these out into the
wilds. The risk of scratching it or damaging it is too
great." He put the gun back into the case.
"It's a waste if you ask me," Nancy said. "Give me a gun I
can shoot."
I smiled. Ted locked the gun case and we went to the sofa.
"Now, Ted," Nancy said. "Tell us what kind of trouble
Rigger's gotten you into."
So much for discretion. So much for not letting Ted know she
was suspicious.
"What?" Ted said. He fumbled for a Cuban.
"There's something fishy going on, Ted. And don't deny
it. I can always tell. I've asked Winston to look
into it."
Ted shot me a glance that I'm glad did not come from the AAHE-grade
Parker.
"Fishy?" he asked. "What do you mean
fishy?" He looked like a golden retriever who had failed to
retrieve.
"Yes," Nancy said. "Fishy. Now tell us about it."
"There's nothing to tell," Ted said, lighting his cigar. It
took him three tries before it finally caught. He inhaled,
filled his lungs with pungent smoke, then exhaled, clouding the air
around us.
"Nonsense," Nancy scoffed. Her eyes shot at him like the
barrels of a Purdey side-by-side.
"Oh, Nance," Ted grumbled. "It's a business matter, nothing
important. And it has nothing to do with you."
Nancy continued to stare at him with her loaded eyes. Ted
turned to me for support.
"Really, Winston, it's nothing," he said.
"Come on, Ted, tell us," Nancy growled. She was going to get
her way, it was only a matter of time. Ted could stall and
fight it all the way, but the outcome was predetermined. He
did the sensible thing and saved us all a nasty scene.
"All right, all right." He ground his cigar into the ashtray,
extinguishing it slowly so Nancy would fume. He leaned over
and rested his elbows on his thighs and cupped his chin in his
hands. "I'm being blackmailed," he mumbled.
© 2008 David Biagini