A gusty wind tugged at the pink bougainvillea that clung grimly to the upright slats of Mark Sloan's patio fence. The rolling waves were still crashing against the shore, but it was obvious that the worst of the storm had passed over. Still, the two men seated on the veranda were both well wrapped up, favouring heavy clothes to offset the still unnatural nip in the air. Mark, nursing his morning coffee, was sporting a white, cable knit fisherman's sweater that matched the silver of his hair and moustache. Steve had pulled on his favourite blue and black checked lumberjack shirt and at his father's insistence had a thick woven rug tucked around his knees. He wasn't happy about the rug, but it was a small price to pay to smell the ocean and feel the salty spray against his face.
Whilst Steve was flipping through the sports pages of the morning paper and chewing on a bagel, Mark was concentrating on the three white chess pieces, carefully placed on the table in front of him.
'Another chess piece' Mark said thoughtfully, turning the intricately carved white Bishop over and over in his fingers.
Steve sighed, putting down the paper and placing his coffee cup on top of it to prevent it blowing away 'At least we know they're all connected' he said.
Mark nodded, his forehead puckered in a frown 'But how?' He pondered out loud 'There's something I'm not seeing here Steve, I know it'.
Steve shrugged helplessly 'Ron's been looking into the background of the two latest victims whilst you've had me on imposed bed rest. I'm hoping he'll be able to tell us something when he comes around this afternoon'.
Mark nodded, still lost in thought 'I just can't imagine what the connection could be between a well known drug baron, a hospital financial director and a waitress'.
'Me either' Steve said. 'I've been wracking my brains all night and it just doesn't make any sense'. He looked across at his father's untouched breakfast plate.
'You gonna eat that bagel' he asked.
Mark shook his head 'Help yourself'
Steve reached across and took possession of the bagel, noticing as he did so that Mark's coffee was also untouched.
'You know coffee generally tastes better when it's hot' Steve prompted gently.
'Mmmh?' Mark asked, obviously distracted.
'Your coffee' Steve said 'You haven't touched it'.
'Oh' Mark said and then more to appease his son than anything else, he smiled and took a large gulp. He screwed up his face in distaste, but swallowed gamely.
'Cold?' Steve asked knowingly.
Mark nodded 'May be I'll make some more' he said.
Steve grinned 'What so you can let that one go cold too?'
Mark smiled sheepishly 'You know me too well' he said.
Steve nodded 'And I know you're not gonna relax until you've figured out the meaning behind those chess pieces'.
Mark picked up each of the three chess pieces in turn, examining them carefully, although he'd looked at them a hundred times already 'The Knight, the Queen and the Bishop' he said 'all three are crucial pieces, the royal family of the chess board. The only piece we're missing is the King'.
He paused and looked at Steve keenly 'Maybe the killer sees himself as the King?' Mark suggested.
Steve thought this over. It was certainly possible, psychotic killers tended to have large egos. But what about the other pieces, where did they fit? He frowned, trying to think it through out loud
'So does that mean the other pieces represent the victims or are they the other members of his team of assassins?'
Mark frowned too 'I don't know' he said finally. 'If they represent the victims aren't they in the wrong order?'
Steve gave his father a puzzled look 'Whaddya mean?'
'Well' Mark said 'If each piece represented a victim, wouldn't the Queen have been left next to the female victim, Nikki Ellis, rather than next to Ernie Evans, a man?'
Steve groaned 'This is giving me a headache.'
Mark nodded 'I think we need to take a break for awhile, we're just going around in circles'.
As Steve returned to the paper and his newly acquired bagel, Mark let out a breath and turned to look out at the ocean. He never forgot how lucky he was to own a beachfront property. Even in this less than temperate weather, the Malibu coastline filled him with renewed energy and hope. He knew the beach had the same effect on Steve, he'd often find him sitting alone on the sand, working off the pressures of the day. Turning back to his son, Mark gave a small smile
'Care to join me in a stroll on the beach?' he offered.
'What?' Steve spluttered, almost choking on his bagel 'You mean you're actually allowing me to get out of this chair and take some exercise?'
Mark grinned, a twinkle in his eye 'Don't hesitate for too long' he warned 'I just might change my mind'.
Steve scrambled hastily to his feet doing his best to ignore the spike of pain that shot through his side 'Just try and stop me' he said 'even out here I've been suffering from cabin fever. He smiled broadly 'It'll be great to stretch my legs, get some proper sea air in my lungs'.
'You wanna finish your breakfast first?' Mark asked, eyeing the half eaten bagel abandoned on Steve's plate, an amused smile playing around his lips.
Shoving the remaining half of bagel in his mouth in one go, Steve showed his empty hands to his father 'Finished' he mumbled triumphantly through the pastry.
Mark shook his head disapprovingly 'You'll give yourself indigestion' he said.
Steve grinned 'It'd be worth it just to get out of here'.
Mark smiled; right now Steve had regressed into the twelve-year-old boy Mark remembered throwing down his dinner and rushing through his homework, desperate to get out on the football field.
'Just give me one minute to get our coats, it'll be colder down by the ocean' Mark said reasonably. Pocketing the chess pieces, he patted Steve genially on the shoulder and disappeared back into the house.
Leaning out over the veranda, Steve took in a deep breath and sighed contentedly. He couldn't wait to get some exercise, after three days in bed he was sure he could feel his muscles atrophying. Was that even possible, he wondered? He'd have to ask Jesse about it the next time he visited. No doubt the young doctor would have some fascinating facts about how long muscles could survive without movement. May be he'd even smile as he told them. Steve would give just about anything right now to see Jesse smile again.
Although physically on the mend, psychologically Jesse still had a way to go. Sure he was putting on a good show, but Amanda had told them about the nightmares, how he'd cried in her arms in the early hours of the morning. Steve sighed, he wanted to help, but he felt woefully inadequate.
His own enforced bed rest had meant he'd only managed one visit so far. He'd sat uncomfortably on the edge of the visitor's chair and filled Jesse in on the latest news concerning the case. He'd also sat in whilst Tanis had completed her preliminary interview. He knew how tough that must have been, but Jesse had been stoical. He answered Tanis in a calm detached voice, giving her the cold, hard facts, much as if he were reporting a patient's medical condition to an attending physician. When Steve had asked him about it afterwards, there had been a spark of determination in Jesse' eyes.
'I have to catch Nikki's killer' he'd said simply 'I owe her that'.
Unable to find any words, Steve had nodded and laid a hand on Jesse's shoulder before turning to walk out the door.
As he looked out at the ocean below, he wondered if his father would drive him to the hospital tonight. If he was well enough for a walk, he was certainly well enough to ride in the car and sit by a hospital bed. May be he was even well enough to drive himself? As these thoughts flitted across his mind, he became aware that his father was taking an awfully long time collecting their coats.
'Dad?' he shouted 'You know sometime today would be good!'
'I'll be right there' Mark's voice floated back. He sounded both excited and distracted at the same time.
Steve frowned; he recognised that tone, it meant his father was up to something.
'What now?' he muttered under his breath. Now that the idea of a walk had been suggested, he was eager to get going. Besides, bereft of his rug, he was starting to feel the cold. 'C'mon Dad' he muttered, blowing on his hands for extra warmth, wondering what on earth was taking so long.
Finally Mark reappeared with their coats and something extra. Beaming proudly, he presented his son with an old fashioned walking stick 'This should be just the job' he said proudly.
'Aw c'mon Dad' Steve said, his face screwed up in protest 'I don't need a cane; I'm fine. Besides' he pointed out reasonably 'it won't work, it's gonna sink straight into the sand'.
Mark smiled triumphantly 'That's where you're wrong, look!'
With a flourish he whipped out a flat, round, piece of bright pink plastic with a hole bored in the middle.
'My frisbee!' Steve exclaimed, as he recognised what the brightly coloured object was.
Enjoying himself immensely, Mark bent over and fixed the end of the walking stick into the plastic.
'See' he said gleefully 'I already tried it, perfect fit!'
Steve shook his head 'I can't believe you just bored a hole in my Championship Frisbee'.
'I'll buy you another one' Mark promised easily, handing over his newly created contraption to his son.
'Won't be the same' Steve said wistfully 'She flew so well, there'll never be another one like her'.
Trying hard not to laugh, Mark put on his most sympathetic expression 'Steve' he said solemnly 'I'm sure, it's more about the skill of the player than the equipment'.
'Hmmph' Steve said grouchily. There was no answer to that, or at least not a good one. As usual his father had out manoeuvred him. Giving up, he accepted the stick from his father's outstretched hand and followed him down the steps of the veranda, to the beach below.
As the two men set off side by side, keeping up a slow but steady pace, they quickly noticed that they weren't the only ones who had chosen to brave the weather. Quite a few Malibu residents had decided to face the cold this morning, no doubt making the most of the first proper lull in the storm. Mark called out cheerfully to neighbours as they passed by, and all of them waved and smiled warmly at the two men.
'They're laughing at me Dad' Steve said through a false smile 'I knew I shouldn't have let you talk me into using this cane'.
'Nonsense' Mark replied through his own smile, as he tossed a casual wave at Mrs. Bickerman from three doors down 'You're just imagining it is all'.
'I look ridiculous' Steve groaned.
'D'you know that, that cane is an exact replica of the one Fred Astaire used in 'The Bandwagon' when he danced with Jack Buchannan?' Mark said cheerfully 'and Fred Astaire was style personified'.
'In that case I'm surprised you didn't find me a top hat to go with it' Steve said grouchily.
Mark grinned 'If it hadn't been so windy then I would have'.
Steve grunted, knowing his father probably wasn't kidding. They continued on in silence, each lost in thought. Mark was still thinking about the three chess pieces. What message was the killer trying to send? Chess was a game of stealth and skill, in order to outwit your opponent you had to think at least three or four moves ahead. Was the killer trying to tell them that there was more to come? As he walked, his hand in his left jacket pocket twisted the chess pieces between his finger and thumb. Feeling the smooth and intricate carvings, he willed himself to think harder.
Steve's thoughts were on the case too, but right now he was focused more on the consequences. The three attacks had been a close call for them all and they'd been lucky, really lucky. First he'd almost been killed himself at the diner, when he'd been standing right next to Sam Wallis. Then Amanda had been injured in the attack on Ernie Evans and now Jesse, perhaps the closest call of all, had narrowly avoided death when putting out the garbage with Nikki Ellis.
Steve shivered, a couple of inches either way, and it could have been a completely different story. All three of them could be dead right now, rather than recovering from injuries. And then it struck him. He stopped walking, his face screwed up in concentration. Mark noticing his son had stopped turned back to him in concern.
'Are you getting tired?' He asked gently 'Want to head back?'
'I think I just figured out who the chess pieces represent' Steve said 'And you're not gonna like it'.
Ron Wagnor paced up and down the kitchen of the beach house. He'd come ostensibly to fill Steve and Mark in on the background checks he'd carried out on Ernie Evans and Nikki Ellis. So far he'd hardly been able to get a word in.
'So let me get this straight' Ron said slowly, his attention focused on Steve Sloan 'You think that the three chess pieces represent you, Amanda and Jesse?'
Steve nodded. From his seated position at the kitchen table, he had to look up at the FBI agent. He wasn't keen on this arrangement, but the morning's walk had tired him more than he'd admit – right now standing wasn't really an option.
'Yep, that's what I think'. Steve sighed 'Look at the facts Ron, I almost got killed at the diner and we found the white Knight. Amanda was injured in the cafeteria and there we found the white Queen …'
'And then the white Bishop was left at Barbeque Bob's, just after Jesse was hurt in the explosion' Mark finished for him. He too was seated at the table; the three white chess pieces laid out in front of him, along with a bunch of scribbled notes.
Letting out a breath, Ron finally sat down next to the two men 'It's crazy' he said' But I guess it makes sense'.
'You see' Mark said 'that way the order of the pieces fits. The Knight is Steve, the female piece, the Queen, isn't Ernie, it's ..'
'Me' Amanda finished solemnly. She was sitting across from Mark, an untouched cup of coffee in front of her.
Mark reached across the table and squeezed her hand 'Yeah honey, I'm afraid it is'.
'But if you three were the intended victims' Ron interrupted 'Why didn't he kill you. Like we said before, professional hitmen don't miss'.
Amanda shivered and Ron got up and went over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders 'I'm sorry Amanda, but we've gotta consider it'.
She nodded 'I know we do' she said quietly 'but I just can't believe that someone would want to kill me'.
'I don't think he did' Mark said.
Ron looked at him 'What then?'
Mark smiled 'It had me stumped for awhile' he admitted 'but then I realised that he just wanted to get my attention'.
'Your attention?' Ron said with a puzzled frown 'How do you know this is about you?' he asked.
Mark was still smiling 'Because I'm the King' he said simply. 'The Knight, the Queen and the Bishop are all members of the court, the chess royal family. The only one missing is the King, the head of that family. I'm guessing that this guy sees me as the King and he wants me to know that he could take out my family whenever he wants'.
Mark stroked his moustache, his mind working over time, his thoughts spilling out loud
'It's personal between him and me' he continued 'he's playing games with me and he wants me to know it. He wants to prove that he's smarter than me, that he can beat me in this game we're playing'.
'Well' Ron said with a sigh, 'if you're right and it's you rather than Steve that this guy is interested in, at least it might narrow the list of suspects a little'.
'Don't bet on it' Steve said grimly 'My father's put away more than his fair share of criminals, any one of whom would be more than happy to see him suffer'.
'This one is clever' Mark interrupted, still thinking out loud 'or at least it's important to him for me to acknowledge that he's clever. It's also someone who enjoys games, puzzles, someone who likes to think his way through problems'. He shrugged 'he's probably a crossword addict too'.
Steve gave a rueful smile 'Sounds like you' he said.
Mark nodded 'And that's probably one of the reasons why he picked me as his adversary'.
'So what about the victims?' Amanda asked 'Were they just unlucky, in the wrong place at the wrong time?'
Mark shook his head 'I don't think so. Luck doesn't come in to it for this guy – it's not a game of chance for him, it's a game of skill. No, I think that there's more going on here than we're aware of'.
Mark was warming to his theme now, his eyes getting brighter, as his thoughts came more clearly 'It's years since I've played chess properly, but I do know that any good chess player always has more than one strategy in mind. To succeed in chess, you have to keep your options open, you have to be able to have more than one plan going at once'.
He turned to look at Amanda
'You, Steve and Jesse were only one part of the plan. Sam Wallis, Ernie Evans and Nikki Ellis are the other part.' He frowned 'I just haven't figured out what the other part is yet'.
Ron cleared his throat 'Then may be it's time for me to fill you in on what I found out'.
Mark looked up 'Of course!' he said, his eyes shinning 'That's what you came around for. You know I can't believe I'd forgotten all about that'. He beamed at the detective 'Go ahead Ron'.
'Well' Ron said 'I found out that Evans was once in trouble with the IRS. It turned out to be a misunderstanding, but I think they gave him a pretty hard time, before it was cleared up'.
Mark smiled ruefully 'I know how that goes' he said, thinking back to his own involvement with the IRS and a certain female inspector of taxes.
'Yeah, who hasn't had trouble with the IRS right? ' Ron agreed, but in Evans' case, he was in trouble because they suspected he was helping out the Elzeni family business, with a little creative accounting'.
Amanda raised her eyebrows 'and I'm guessing that the Elzeni family business isn't Italian food?'
Steve nodded 'Try organised crime' he said grimly.
Mark whistled 'Ernie Evans was doing the accounts for a family involved in organised crime? I don't believe it.'
Ron shrugged 'It was never proven, but there's no smoke without fire.' He looked at them all, his brown eyes serious 'And this is where it gets really interesting' he said. 'When I checked into Nikki Ellis, I found out that she doesn't exist'.
Steve looked at him, his blue eyes puzzled 'Whaddaya mean?' he said 'I hired the girl myself, she had references, drivers licence, the works.'
'What I mean' Ron replied 'is that she changed her name. When we checked her dental records to ID her remains, we didn't get a match with Nikki Ellis'.
'So who was she?' Amanda asked curiously.
Ron smiled, about to reveal his trump card 'Nichola Elzeni' he said.
Steve gaped at him 'Are you trying to tell me that I hired one of the Elzeni family to work at my restaurant?'
Ron nodded 'I'm afraid so. She was the granddaughter of the main man if you wanna know the gory details'.
Steve felt as if he'd taken a punch to the gut. Was it really true? Had he really hired the granddaughter of one of LA's most infamous crime families? The Elzenis had been implicated in drug smuggling, arms dealing and money laundering to name but a few. He could hardly believe it and yet he knew it was true.
It certainly explained Nikki's odd behaviour around him. Whilst she'd immediately warmed to Jesse, Steve had always been aware that she was awkward and uncomfortable around him. Jesse had teased him that it was because Nikki had a crush on him. Jesse had liked to joke that the waitress had a thing for older men, or in Steve's case, as Jesse had so gleefully put it, 'old men'. Steve himself had never been convinced that a crush was the explanation, but to be honest, he hadn't given it much thought. Now though it was obvious. Nikki had been awkward around him, because she'd found out that he was a cop!
'I'd better check the cash at the restaurant' he said glumly 'For all I know they could have been laundering money out of Barbeque Bob's for the last 6 months'.
Mark smiled sympathetically 'I don't think so son' he said soothingly, placing a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder.
'Yeah?' Steve said, sounding a little more hopeful.
'Sure' Mark replied cheerfully 'If they had of been, you and Jesse would be in jail by now'.
Ron sniggered and Amanda tried hard to suppress a smile.
'That's funny Dad' Steve grimaced 'Real funny.'
Mark shrugged 'Only trying to help' he offered. His tone was innocent, but there was an unmistakeable twinkle in his eye.
'So where does this leave us?' Amanda asked, looking around the table at the three men 'Are we back to your vigilante theory?'
Ron nodded 'I guess it still fits'.
Mark sighed 'So we're back to Ross Cainen?'
Steve nodded grimly 'Looks that way'.
Mark's eyes flicked worriedly to his son 'In that case' he said 'Tanis Archer is …'
Steve looked at his father 'In trouble' he said gravely.
TO BE CONTINUED …….