The Shepherd's Crook Pt. 01

After paying the driver and collecting their suitcases, they walked to the front door. A man was waiting for them there with a smile on his wrinkled face. He couldn't have been more than an inch or two taller than 5' and very slim in his tailored suit. He glanced at his pocket watch, and Ben had the oddest sensation of witnessing a scene from the past.

"Mr. Shepherd! Very punctual!" the small man said softly with a smile.

"Herr Schmitt?" Ben asked. The man gave him a quick nod. "This is Trish Campbell."

She received a quick little bow drawing a smile from her.

"A formality, I must ask to see identification before presenting you with the keys to your property."

Ben pulled out his passport which the building manager reviewed and handed back. He gave a set of keys to Ben.

He glanced at the keys and used the largest one to open the grand front door. They stepped inside, and Trish nodded appreciatively. The modest exterior hid the very luxuriously appointed interior of gleaming marble, highly polished brass, antique furniture, and oil paintings, all lit by spectacular crystal chandeliers. Ben wasn't surprised that Rainor had chosen a unit in such a high-end building, but he knew the man's decorating tastes were far colder than this.

After a brief stop at the manager's office to store their baggage securely, they moved to an old cage style elevator. Their guide demonstrated how it worked and took them up to the top floor.

Ben glanced at Trish with a puzzled expression. "He must have been one hell of an investment manager to be able to afford a place like this and the condo in Sydney."

Trish just nodded as they walked up to the door to Rainor's unit.

Ben went to use the key on the lock then he froze. The lock had been drilled out. He looked to the building manager who frowned and looked closer at the lock.

The older man tried the door, and it swung inwards. The interior of the apartment was a disaster zone. Every piece of furniture was broken, every cushion was ripped open, their stuffing scattered all over the floor.

"Can't say I care for how he decorated the place," Trish said with raised eyebrows.

"I don't see any smoke, but it definitely smells like something burned in there. Maybe we should call the fire department... and the police," Ben muttered and saw the building manager was already dialing. He saw the remains of the sofa, and sure enough, it had been far more modern than the decor of the rest of the building. White leather, steel, glass, and all with a modern motif. Looking around at what he could see from the doorway, it looked like there'd been paintings on the walls, but now all that remained were slightly darker squares of paint and picture hooks.

The firemen arrived within ten minutes and confirmed the absence of active fires, but there was fire damage in the master bedroom.

They waited in the hallway for the police to arrive and this took close to thirty minutes.

"So good of you to join us Detective Freder," Schmitt said with a cold tone. The detective's unpleasant expression in return indicated a possible history between them.

Ben shared a look with Trish. He wasn't sure if their knowing each other was a good sign or not.

The detective was almost as tall as Ben, but he was as slim as Schmitt. Slim to the point of looking like a corpse. Pale with a grayish tint to his skin, he wasn't the healthiest looking specimen. Sunken eyes and cheeks, he cast a disapproving glare at the group standing in the hall.

"Schmitt."

Ben swore the detective spit the word out. Definitely some bad blood between the two men. Then those pale blue eyes were locked on him, and Ben saw recognition flare.

"Why am I not surprised to find the infamous Ben Shepherd outside the apartment of Rainor Hahn?" Freder sighed.

"Infamous?" Ben asked with a scowl.

"What moldy crypt did you crawl out of?" Trish growled.

The detective's eyes flicked to Trish and away, dismissing her.

"What happened here?" Freder asked Schmitt.

"What does it look like, detective?" the building manager snapped. When the man said nothing Schmitt continued. "Mr. Shepherd came to Berlin to take possession of his property, the apartment, and its contents. We arrived to discover the lock broken and we smelled smoke. I called the fire department and foolishly, the police as well."

The detective turned to look at Ben. "How did this property come into your possession? What was your relationship with Rainor Hahn?"

Ben scowled at the unpleasant man.

"I had no relationship with the man. I spent a few unpleasant minutes in his company on a boat in Sydney Harbor, Australia. After he accidentally fell into the harbor and died, I... came to the aid of his widow. She signed over all of his possessions to me in her will. I didn't discover that fact until after she was killed."

Freder stared back at Ben with a weary expression. "Why have you come now? The death of the widow happened months ago! We all saw it on the television."

Ben was becoming seriously pissed off at this asshole's attitude. "I had business in Berlin, so I decided to drop by."

"Business?"

"Yes." That's all Ben was willing to give him.

"So you arrive just in time to find the apartment ransacked."

Ben paused at the odd wording. "Just in time? What the hell does that mean?" He looked in the door at the destruction then back to the suspicion in the detective's eyes. "You think I had something to do with this?" He gestured toward the door. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"Covering up the possession of stolen art?" Freder suggested, and Ben looked to the empty walls.

"Rainor had stolen art? Well, that sheds some light on... things," Ben finished, fixing a glare on the detective. He wasn't about to disclose anything to this asshole. "I had no knowledge of the contents of his apartment, and I had nothing to do with whatever happened inside it."

Freder sniffed disdainfully and made his way into the apartment.

Ben looked at the building manager. "Are we expected to stay here or can we go check into our hotel?"

"Stay!" Freder called out from the apartment.

Trish frowned. "This prick has a pickle up his ass, doesn't he?" she said loudly enough for the detective to hear.

"How do you know him?" Ben asked Schmitt.

The smaller man sighed. "A thoroughly unpleasant man. He's been after Mr. Hahn since shortly after he moved into the building. He's made a nuisance of himself with all of the tenants. Several of them lodged complaints against him, and his senior officers finally managed to get him to leave us alone."

"He was probably right about Rainor. That man was evil," Ben growled.

Schmitt glanced into the apartment then to Ben. "I thought you said you didn't know him," he said quietly.

"I didn't, but I learned a lot about him from his wife after I brought her home. What he did to that woman... I wish I'd had a chance to get my hands on him before he died by such a stupid accident."

Freder was suddenly in the doorway. "You are not the only one who feels that way about the late Mr. Hahn."

Ben examined the detective's expression and saw a tremendous amount of pent-up frustration. He nodded to him slightly.

"Do you know what he kept in his wall safe?" the man pressed.

Ben's eyebrows went up. "How could I know that? I just finished saying I didn't know the man. I wasn't even aware the apartment had a wall safe. We haven't entered the unit yet."

The detective fixed a scornful eye on him then gestured for him to enter.

Ben shared another look with Trish then walked into the apartment with her following. Ignoring the destruction as they moved through the unit, he saw the layout was very nice. As an older building, there was less open flow between the kitchen, dining room and living room but each separate room was generous in size. They saw it had two bedrooms, the smaller one used as an office. There was considerable destruction in that room.

Once they were in the master bedroom, they saw the source of the burnt smell. He made his way closer and stood next to the bed to get a better look. The wall around the wall safe was severely scorched. Its door was on the floor under the opening.

Ben looked back towards the detective and was startled to see one painting had been left behind. It remained hanging on the bedroom wall opposite the bed. It was a small portrait of a clown's face, in full makeup. It stared back at them with a sad expression.

"Rainor dealt with stolen art? Could that be a Red Skelton original?" Ben asked the detective. The man turned to look back at the painting with a thoughtful expression.

"Why the fuck would anyone want a clown staring at you while you sleep... or while you had sex! That's fucking creepy!" Trish said with a shudder.

Ben snorted in amusement then nodded in agreement. He found its sad stare to be slightly unnerving.

Giving his head a shake, Ben glanced around the destroyed room. "If there was anything of Gretchen's in the apartment it's either been destroyed or taken by whoever did this. I don't think there's any reason for us to remain." He looked to the property manager. "There doesn't appear to be any significant damage to the structure of the apartment, aside from the safe and scorch marks on the surrounding wall. I intend to sell. Would I be able to have you arrange the repairs and disposal of the contents?"

The man nodded and smiled at him. "You don't wish to keep anything?" He glanced to the painting of the clown.

Ben grinned. "That's right. It can all go." The man nodded to him again.

"We're done here," Ben announced as he looked to the detective. The man looked like he was going to argue but turned his face away with a scowl.

The property manager plucked the painting from the wall, and they left the condo to return to his office where they got their bags. Ben gave the keys back to him as the man would work with the realtor once the unit was ready for selling. He called them a taxi and walked them out. They shook hands with the property manager on the sidewalk then climbed into their ride.

Ben leaned forward to speak to the driver. "Ritz-Carlton, Berlin, please."

"Really?" Trish squeaked.

Ben nodded. "Tina made the reservation for us. It's right downtown as the bank I'm visiting is close by." He smiled at her. "There's a shopping district close by as well."

Trish grinned happily at him, and she trembled with excitement.

After a short time, and several excited exclamations from Trish as she spotted the shopping areas, they reached the hotel. Ben paid the driver, and they headed inside with their bags. He led them up to the reception desk.

"Ah, Mr. Shepherd. Welcome to the Ritz-Carlton. We've been expecting you," the gentleman behind the counter said with a professional smile.

Ben nodded to him.

The clerk looked at his screen. "I see we have you for just the one night in the Carlton Club Suite, checking out tomorrow."

"That's right," Ben agreed as he handed over his credit card.

The man checked them in and made two keys. "Here are your keys. The elevators are to your right. I do hope you enjoy your stay with us tonight." A young female clerk stepped up next to the man with an envelope in her hand and an awestruck look on her face. "What is it, Diana?"

"A note was delivered for Mr. Shepherd last night," the woman said.

Trish looked to Ben. "Who knew you were going to be here?"

He held out his hand for the note as he glanced at Trish. "Other than Tina, no one."

The young woman gave him the envelope. He opened it and read the message. "It's not Tina. It's a dinner invitation from someone called Darius Milonas. Is Grill Royal a good restaurant?" he asked the clerks.

"Yes, it's excellent," the man replied.

Ben looked to Trish and caught her little frown. He smiled at her as he crumpled the note in his fist. "Yeah, I don't feel like going to dinner with a stranger either. Besides, the note made this Darius fellow sound a little pushy and rude."

She grinned at him as he handed the crushed paper back to the clerk who dropped it in the trash.

They took the elevator up, and Ben let Trish use her key to get them into their room. It was every bit as luxurious and well-appointed as Ben had expected. He would have been perfectly comfortable in a smaller boutique hotel but seeing the joy on Trish's face made it all worthwhile.

Besides, it was only for one night.

Chapter 3

From the outside, the dance club didn't look like much. Just another multistory brick factory conversion. Nothing like the splashy clubs he'd been to back home. Still, when in Berlin, do as the Berliners do.

They'd enjoyed an intimate dinner at a nice Italian restaurant which had excellent online reviews. Ben did his best to ignore the watching eyes of the other customers and the overly attentive staff. The food was excellent, and Trish was happy, so that's what mattered to him. As they finished up a light dessert, Tish looked up the address to a dance club she'd read about previously. She seemed pretty excited about it, and Ben was looking forward to exercising off the dinner they'd just enjoyed.

Once they arrived, he discovered he was able to skip the queue when the doorman recognized him. He had to admit this was the only perk of celebrity he found useful. He entered the building behind Trish who was already starting to move to the beat. As they walked through the tunnel-like entrance hall, the music reverberated and beat on their bodies. She cast a happy grin over her shoulder.

"This is just like the clubs John and I went to when we first got married. We were so much into the industrial rock scene. Come on!" she exclaimed as she grabbed his hand and pulled him out onto the crowded dance floor. It wasn't his kind of music, but she was happy he went with it.

Ben was amazed at the level of energy the people around him were showing. It was like the music was feeding raw power to them and the only outlet was to dance.

Sharing an impressed smile with Trish who was watching him with sparkling eyes, Ben let the music soak into him as well. Pretty soon, he was moving in sync with the crowd, and Trish laughed with joy.

Set after set went by until Trish gripped his arm. He looked at her, and she mimed drinking something. He realized how dehydrated he was becoming as well, so he nodded to her. They danced their way to the edge of the dance floor until they could separate themselves from the crowd. The bodies weren't as densely packed here, and they moved into the next room where a bar ran along one wall with stand up tables filling the remaining space. The room wasn't designed for relaxing but for recharging to get back to the dancing, Ben assumed. He looked at Trish, and she was covered with a sheen of sweat, and he knew he was a sweaty mess too.

Her grin told him she was loving this.

They made their way to the bar and a blond woman wearing dark kohl around her eyes, black lipstick and many facial piercings leaned over the counter while she held Ben's eyes with hers. She said something Ben assumed was a request for their order.

"Bottled still water and a beer," he said glancing at Trish who nodded. He made hand gestures to indicate 'a large bottle' and the bartender smirked at him before moving away.

While they waited, they glanced around the room, and people watched. Ben saw a few groups who seemed to have recognized him but thankfully they remained at their tables. Maintaining ownership of the coveted tables trumped a face to face with him it seemed. He was ok with that!

The dress code in the club seemed to be mostly black with silver accessories like studded belts, rings, earrings, and, of course, piercings. He saw lots of goth-lite makeup as well. His black dress shirt, black jeans, and black dress shoes made him fit right in. He turned to look at Trish.

"I don't know. I can't see you with this style."

She snorted. "Don't ask me to show you the pictures from that time because I think I burned them all. I still like the music though. Gets the blood pumping!" A sexy smile slipped across her lips. "Speaking of pumping..."

The bartender returned, sparing Ben from having to respond.

The bottle was large, and the water was cold. Ben drank half of it in one go and smiled at the bartender when he thumped the bottle back down on the bar. The woman wasn't smiling anymore. She was looking at the two well-dressed thugs standing next to Trish and himself. The woman moved away, quickly.

The man next to him had on a nicely tailored dark blue suit, but his rough tattoos and oddly shaved head ruined the look. Ben caught the flash of gold and silver caps as he smiled up at him while holding his eye. "Our employer invited you to dinner. You did not show."

Ben scowled and the scar bisecting his face flared. The man's smile faltered. "I'm not in the habit of accepting unsolicited invitations from strangers. Our not showing should have been enough of a clue. Not interested."

"Still, Mr. Milonas would very much like to speak with you."

"No."

The man sucked his teeth in frustration as he stared into Ben's eyes. He sighed. He nodded to his partner who moved closer to Trish menacingly. Ben saw him pull his suit jacket back slightly, exposing the butt of his gun. The bald man tilted his head with a cocky smile as he carefully displayed the weapon to Ben.

Frowning, Ben glanced at Trish and saw he'd better keep up because she was about to-

Beer and glass exploded against the face of the goon at her elbow, the frothing liquid jetting up his sinuses and into his eyes.

Ben's fist hammered into the temple of the tattooed man, and he sagged to the floor, completely limp.

Trish followed up the beer with a punch to the choking man's solar plexus and on his way down she smashed Ben's half empty bottle of water over his head.

Ben scanned the room and spotted a third goon-in-a-suit glaring at them from the far doorway. He ducked out and disappeared in the crowd. Not coming to rescue his buddies, so probably off to speak to his boss.

"You know, I wasn't finished drinking that," Ben grumbled to Trish, looking at the remains of the bottle.

"And I was finished my beer?" she snorted with a grin. She looked down at the two unconscious men. "They owe us drinks."

The tables nearby hadn't had any time to react; it happened so quickly. They stood frozen, stunned and silent. But soon everyone was taking pictures of Ben and Trish standing at the bar with the men at their feet.

The bartender came back and looked over the bar.

"Can I get another bottle of still water and a beer?" Ben asked. "Oh, and could you call the police?"

The woman nodded and quickly moved away.

"I couldn't hear what he said. Who were they?" Trish asked.

Ben glanced at Trish in surprise. "They apparently worked for the man who invited us to dinner. He was insistent on speaking to us. Pretty rude to send armed thugs to threaten us." He frowned as he wondered if this Darius fellow would get the hint this time.

The bartender returned with their drinks and Ben gave her a bill that more than covered the cost. "Keep the change. Sorry about the mess," he said.

Trish held up her glass with a grin, so he tapped the rim with his bottle. Flashes went off. Ben frowned at the watchers then drank.

Ben saw the flicker of colored lights on the wall then police were pouring into the bar. Cell phone flashes were going off as the officers rushed up to Ben and Trish.

One of the policemen barked something at them as others inspected the men on the floor.

"Sorry, I don't speak German," Ben said to him.

"Did you do this?" the officer said pointed to the two men.

"In self-defense, yes, we did," Ben explained.

The officer's eyes went to Trish in surprise, and she just rolled her eyes.