Chapter Nine

It wasn’t until he was inside the house that it occurred to him that he really hoped Victor didn’t have a dog.  He didn’t hear any barking yet, though, so he figured he was probably in the clear.

The foyer in Victor’s mansion was spectacular, complete with marble floors, and a grand staircase.  There were two crystal chandeliers, and several works of art in gold frames.  There was also a suit of armor, complete with sword and shield.

Well, I guess it’s better to have a suit of armor and not need it, than to need one and not have it, Alex thought.  He was acutely aware that he was not supposed to be there in Victor’s house.  He was fairly sure the police wouldn’t be happy to see him if they were called, and weren’t likely to believe that he was an antique spearhead repo man.

According to the documents he’d been given, the trophy room was somewhere on the second floor.  He looked around to see if perhaps there was another, somewhat less grand, staircase available.  Sneaking up a grand staircase would be pretty impossible, and Alex very much felt he needed to be sneaky now that he was inside.

There were no other obvious ways to get upstairs, of course.  Alex wished that the side or cellar door had been open instead.  He took a step towards the stairs, and nearly had a heart attack when he heard his heel click loudly on marble floor.

Nice sneaking, asshole, Alex thought to himself.  He stepped as lightly as he could manage the rest of the way across the hall, and was grateful that the staircase itself, at least, was carpeted.

He felt jumpy, hyper-alert even, as he climbed the stairs.  Alex wasn’t certain if the silence in the house was comforting or unnerving.  Either way, it was its own presence.

At the top of the stairs, he had his choice of directions, he could go down a hallway to the left or one to the right.  He had no idea which was the way to the trophy room; that detail hadn’t been in the folder Mr. Darcy had provided.

Alex peered in each direction, but doing so really didn’t give him any information.  With a shrug, he decided that “left” was as good of a direction to start with as any.  He turned and started walking, tiptoeing really, down the hall to the left.  There were more paintings hung on the wood-paneled walls, one every couple of feet, and little sculptures and plants placed on their own tables here and there as well.

Peeking inside the first door that he came to, conveniently left open, Alex saw a bedroom that was tastefully decorated and looked as if no one had ever gone in there since the interior decorator left, except to dust it once a week. 

The next room had a collection of musical instruments in it.  Alex wondered if Victor could actually play all of them, or if they were just more collectibles.  No spearheads in that room.

At the end of the hallway was a pair of ornate French doors.  These ones were closed.

Hoping desperately that he wasn’t going to open the door and find someone waiting for him on the other side, Alex reached for the door handle, turned it, and opened the door.

It creaked slightly as it opened, and Alex’s adrenaline level shot up dramatically.  He was primed to either run like hell, or punch out an elephant if need be.

Mellow, mellow, everything is cool, stay mellow, Alex thought as he tried to keep himself from freaking out.

There was no one in the room, which was clearly Victor’s bedroom.  There was an enormous, four-poster bed, draped with dark purple velvet blankets and curtains, edged with gold.  Alex suspected that sleeping in that bed would give a person a good idea of what it’s like being a bottle of Crown Royal whiskey.

There weren’t any obvious trophies in the bedroom though, so he shut the door as quickly and quietly as he could, and tiptoed back down the hall.  When he got back to the staircase, he took a quick peek around the corner to make sure there wasn’t anyone there waiting for him, or waiting to be surprised by him.  It looked like he still had the place to himself, however.

Alex hustled as quickly across the top of the stairwell as he could managed, and ducked down the opposite hall. 

It was decorated similarly to the previous hallway, but didn’t have as many doorways.  The first door he reached was for the library.  There was a desk and some very comfortable looking leather chairs in there, along with the dark wooden bookshelves that were packed with leather bound books as well as, Alex noticed, a collection of cheap paperback books somewhat hidden on a low shelf in the far corner.  Not a trophy to be seen.

There was only one door left on the second floor, so if that wasn’t a trophy room, Alex was going to be extremely annoyed with the information he’d been provided.

Alex peered through the doorway, and saw a room that looked like Ernest Hemingway and Ted Nugent had worked together to build a space where they’d feel comfortable hanging out.  There were animal heads mounted on the walls.  There was a zebra skin upholstered ottoman.  There were more leather chairs, and a bear skin rug (of course).  There were also several impressive looking racks of rifles and shotguns, with gorgeous wooden stocks.  And, most importantly, there were a couple of glass curio cabinets chock full of small, interesting things.

“I guess this would be the trophy room,” Alex mumbled to himself.

He walked into the room and wondered if Victor had actually killed all of the animals mounted and stuffed around the room, or if he just collected hunting trophies.  It seemed like an incredible number for just one person to have hunted.

On the other hand, wealthy people tend to be free to use their time how they choose, he thought.

One of the curio cabinets appeared to be full of antique laboratory equipment, microscopes and such, and other similar items.

The other cabinet, however, had spearheads in it.  Actually, it was chock full of spearheads, arrowheads, bayonets, and other pointy things that had a right end and a wrong end.  There must have been close to two hundred things in the cabinet, and enough of them looked the same that Alex was stumped as to which was the right one.

It was tempting, for the sake of getting out of there quickly, to just sweep an armful of spearheads in to his bag and make a break for it, but that would be stealing, and he was there to recover a particular item, not to make off with some rich guy’s collection.

Alex was really glad he’d brought the picture he had of the spearhead he was looking for.  He dug it out of his bag, and started comparing them, one by one, to the image of what he was looking for.

He’d gotten about halfway through the case, when he heard water rushing through plumbing.  Someone, somewhere, in the house had flushed a toilet.

Shit, shit, shit, Alex thought.  It was time to get the hell out of there.  Well, it was past time to get out of there.  He wasn’t eager to continue testing his cat burglar skills.

He kept looking for the right spearhead, hurried.  There was one that seemed about right.  The engravings looked about right.  It seemed kind of beat up, though.  Alex took a deep breath, hoped he had picked the right piece, opened the curio cabinet, grabbed the spearhead, stuffed it into his bag and silently thanked God that the cabinet hadn’t been locked.

He hurried out of the trophy room and down the hall again as quickly and quietly as he could managed.  He hoped, desperately, that whoever was in the house wasn’t directly downstairs, and that his footsteps weren’t giving him away.

His footsteps hadn’t given him away, but knocking a little marble statuette off of its table onto the floor probably did.  It hit the floor with a loud THUMP, and Alex’s heart leapt up into his throat.  He picked it up quickly, stuck it back where he thought it belonged, and did his best to keep from running down the hall.

At the top of the staircase, he took a quick look to see if anyone was there.  It looked like he was OK, so far.  Alex hustled down the stairs, crazily wondering if he should have taken the opportunity to slide down the bannister (because when was he going to get another chance, after all?), and had managed to tip toe halfway across the foyer towards the front door when he heard someone behind him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in here?” the someone behind him said.

Alex stopped in his tracks, and turned to see who had caught him.  It was, (Of course, Alex thought) none other than Victor Steel.  He didn’t seem very happy to see Alex.

Trying to think quickly, Alex seized on the first idea that came to mind.

“Howdy! Um, I’m awfully sorry, I’m looking for a place to host my wedding, and I thought this was one of the mansions for rent.  When I realized it was actually someone’s home I turned around to get out of here right away.  Sorry, I’m really embarrassed and I didn’t mean to invade your privacy,” Alex said and hoped that Victor would buy it.

“Well, you were wrong.  And even those places don’t want you to just walk in off the street without an appointment… Wait a minute.  Didn’t you ride your bicycle past my house yesterday?  Were you casing my house?” Victor said.

His tone of voice became more authoritative and demanding.

“What’s in your bag?  I should have known something was up, but I wasn’t expecting something so… obvious,” Victor said.

Alex knew he was caught, and wasn’t yet certain just how bad the situation was.  However, if Victor found the spearhead in his bag, chances were he’d be going to jail.

Or to the morgue… A little voice in Alex’s head whispered.

Thinking fast, Alex said the first thing that came to mind, “Um, well, the thing about that is, uh… Bye!”

Alex turned and ran for the front door.  He threw it open, ran through and slammed it shut behind him.  He heard Victor cursing behind him.  Alex was down the steps and next to his bicycle again in seconds.  He made a running start, jumped on to his rolling bike, and started pedaling as fast as he could.

Shit, shit, shit, Alex thought again.  At least I don’t have a license plate that can be tracked, but I guess I’m identifiable enough if a cop manages to spot me.  Gotta move, gotta move…

He was pedaling fast down the street away from Victor’s house when he heard the sound of a car bottoming out not too far behind him.  He ventured a look over his shoulder, and saw an enormous, black Cadillac that had apparently just pulled out of Victor’s driveway, and was now rapidly closing the distance between them.

Not good, not good, not good, Alex thought.  He pedaled as hard as he could, but he knew there was no way he’d be able to outrun that car on the street.

He hoped there wouldn’t be any fences in his way, and made a hard right turn, leapt the curb, and pedaled his way through somebody’s front yard, past the house, and through the back.  He was relieved to see that there was not a fence separating the yards, and continued pedaling hard through the yard of the house directly behind the first. 

As he reached the street again, he looked to the left, and saw the black Cadillac stopped in the intersection nearby, waiting to see where he would emerge.  It was Victor behind the wheel, Alex could see the daylight reflecting off of Victor’s head.   Alex shot across the street and into the next yard.

Whether he was in good shape or not, Alex knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep riding this hard for long, especially through people’s yards on a road bike.  What’s more, there was a good chance that Victor would be screeching to a halt to wait for him at the next street.  He decided his best bet was to double back and then change direction.

He realized then there was a man with a can of beer standing on the lawn about ten feet away from him, looking at him.

“Um. Hi,” Alex said. 

“Get off my lawn!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Alex said.

He turned his bicycle around and rode back to the street he’d just been on.  He took a look and was relieved to see that Victor’s Cadillac wasn’t in sight.

He rode down the street a ways, trying to decide which direction would be the best way to go.  At this point, he no longer had any idea where Victor might be.  If Victor had tried to head him off, however, he’d be pointed the same direction Alex was riding in now.

Alex braked hard and turned around.  He hoped he was right, and pedaled hard to get up to speed again.  When he got to the intersection, he looked right, and was relieved that Victor’s Cadillac wasn’t there.  A quick glance left, no Cadillac, and Alex rode across the street.  He continued zig zagging through the streets for several blocks, taking advantage of alleys when he could, before settling down and riding at a more reasonable pace.

After a mile or so, Alex was confident that he’d gotten away from Victor.  He stayed alert, and tried to ride without drawing any attention to himself, though he wasn’t exactly sure if he was doing a particularly good job at it.

After several more miles, he was sure he wasn’t being followed any longer.  He started to ride towards Mr. Darcy’s office.

Alex was still on high alert, but he was also starting to feel fantastic.  What a complete rush that had been.  He was having a hard time remembering the last time he’d had quite so much fun, in fact.

Before long, he arrived at Mr. Darcy’s office.  Megan greeted him as she had each time before, but Alex didn’t have to wait long before Mr. Darcy came out of his office and invited him in.

“You’ve recovered the spearhead?” Mr. Darcy said.  He seemed very pleased.

“Yes, I’ve got it here in my bag, “ Alex said.  He fumbled a bit getting his bag open, but the produced the spearhead and set it on the leather writing pad on Mr. Darcy’s desk.  He then really, really hoped he’d grabbed the right spearhead.

Mr. Darcy took one look at it and said, “Excellent!  Our client will be thrilled to have this returned.”

Mr. Darcy took the spearhead and put it in his desk, then removed an envelope and handed it to Alex. 

“Excellent work, Mr. Minor.  You’ve earned this,” he said.

Alex took the envelope, and could feel that it was full of cash.  He realized he was now holding more cash than he’d ever earned in a year, much less two days.

“Who, exactly, is our client?” Alex asked.  He was a bit worried about who might have so much money to throw around for an antique weapon that was, frankly,  pretty beat up.

“As I told you, Mr. Minor, someone with the necessary means, who very much wanted his artifact back.  You’re going to need to trust me.  As I told you in our first meeting, we are the good guys,” Mr. Darcy said.

He looked at Alex as if he was checking to make sure that the matter was now closed.

“Suits me, just curious,” Alex said.

Shortly after, Alex was back on his bicycle again, riding home.  It didn’t take him long to reach his apartment, and he wasn’t feeling the least bit tired, even though the sun was starting to set and he’d been on the move all day long.

This job is completely awesome, Alex thought. I can’t believe that today just happened, and that I got paid for it.

He arrived back at his apartment complex, hopped off his bicycle, and let himself in.  He checked his mail, and sorted through it quickly before heading up to his apartment.

He opened the door to his apartment, and flipped on the lights, thinking about what to have for dinner that night as he rolled his bicycle inside and leaned it up against the wall.  He kicked off his shoes then, and turned around.

Alex was extremely surprised to see Victor Steel sitting on his couch, looking back at him.

“Howdy,” Victor said.