CHAPTER FORTY ONE

 

 

Henry couldn't see the endgame. It ate at him like a parasite. This case, the only one he had been working for weeks, was gnawing at his soul. He felt the end was near, that the final pieces to the puzzle were about to be handed to him. And then what?

Big Mike was recovering but was still in the hospital. Luna and Sylvia had their fathers in the wind, and he knew they would stay there until Tommy and the DA were safely behind bars. Life didn't always deal you a good hand, and Henry thought his cards were dreadful. He did have an ace in the hole. He hoped that would be enough.

He got up from the kitchen table and started to pace. Tomorrow, he would drive over to the Alexander's and pick up Luna to go poking around 'Stowe It Forever' gifts. It was painfully obvious that every step needed to be clear in his mind. Henry picked up the book 'Basic Box Making' and flipped through the pages for the tenth time. He wasn't sure what the key would be, but it had to be in the book, so he did his best to understand everything he could about box making.

Henry thought, When this is over, I need to make some of these boxes. He shook his head; he was getting distracted. He had compiled a list of steps and was not thrilled that it was a list of one. He was much more comfortable being able to see three, four, or five moves ahead. This wasn't a game of chess, though he liked the metaphor. It was a deadly game, and it was being played with the lives of people with whom he had developed a bond.

Henry chastised himself for caring. The third rule of being a private detective was "don't get too close to the client." Rule one was to not negotiate on fees, and rule two had something to do with domestic abuse cases. He couldn't remember rule two very well. It wasn't his own; it had been passed down to him by his mentor, Mickey. He shook himself again as rule four leapt out and smacked him across the face: "Always stay focused."

Rule four was killing him. Okay, Henry, stop worrying about finding the rest of the code to decipher the journal. It will be there, you will figure it out, no matter how difficult or subtle the clue might be. It wasn't a rule, but Henry believed that self-confidence was important. Perhaps he would make it rule two since he never remembered it anyway. His internal voice continued, Assuming we find the rest of the key or some of it, what is the play?

Rule four continued to take a beating as Henry started to nibble on one of the cookies Luna had left. She really knew her way around the kitchen. He was sure there must be some sort of clause for rule four that allowed for a temporary loss of focus in the event of an emergency snack. Henry paced some more while the cookies continued to disappear along with the milk. He couldn't bring the future into focus no matter how hard he tried. All his thoughts were spinning like a bunch of lights at a carnival.

Outside the wind was up and banging on the neighborhood. It would have sounded worrisome to Henry, but he couldn't hear a thing. His mind was lost in the case. After three cookies and a glass of milk, he had the book back in his hand. What would he need to find, where would the next piece be hidden? He imagined there would be something in a box, but he wondered if that was too simple. Maybe there would be a bookshelf, perhaps made by Stowe, that would have the clue? He stopped pacing and laid down on the couch. He put his arm over his eyes and, while he tried to follow rule four, drifted off to sleep.