The Tale of the Wolf (The Kenino Wolf Series) by Cyrus Chainey Page A

can give you strength, give you drive.
    Looking at Marisol I knew what she had planned; not the details, but certainly the outcome, the result she wanted … which was why I had no intention of telling her if I ever found out who he was, although I nodded to say I would. I’d lost one friend to that guy and I had no intention of losing another. I wasn’t willing to see Marisol go to jail for that piece of shit, especially if I could find another way to get him.
    ‘ Good. As soon as you find out, you tell me, hey Wolfy.’ She uttered in a matter of fact way rising up from the sofa. I nodded in compliance.
    ‘ Time to get up and open the shop. The bills need paying and I have things to do.’ The knowledge that there was someone to get revenge upon had reinvigorated Marisol.
    ‘ There's always bills to pay,’ I replied. ‘They can wait till tomorrow. Take the day off.’
    ‘ There's no rest in this town. No time to grieve. Just have to keep going, keep fighting.’
    ‘ True.’ I sighed. Rising up, preparing to return to the world, into the merciless city that was both friend and foe to those that resided in her.
    ‘ You make sure you tell me. Okay, Wolfy?’
    ‘ No worries,’ I lied.
    I left the revitalised Marisol to open the shop and headed towards Betsy, I wanted to visit my lock-up. I’d planned to go there from the start, before I'd even seen Marisol. It was one of those two-birds-with-one-stone situations.

    Before Longy had left on his supposed travels, he'd left me a big old trunk with his prized possessions to hold for him. At the time, it hadn’t seemed important and I'd just dumped it in the lock-up. But now I was curious to find out what was in it. See if it had any connection to what happened, his reaction when I mentioned it made me suspicious.
    I heaved open the heavy metal door that guarded my lock-up. It was full to the brim of all manner of stuff, which made finding Longy’s trunk something of an arduous task. It had been a while since I'd had a good clear-out, plus things had been extremely slow. So what should have been shifted was now piling up. I was turning into a bit of a hoarder.
    I finally found the trunk buried under fifteen crowbars, a large elephant foot umbrella stand, and a collection of Morris Minor car manuals (don't ask).
    The trunk was a little bit smaller than a suitcase. It was made out of cheap wood, and had a large padlock on the front. I picked up one of the crowbars and forced the lock. The lock stayed solid but the trunk broke instead. Either way it was open. I lifted the lid. For such a large trunk there wasn’t a lot in it: a small velvet bag with some jewellery; a couple of boxes of Havana cigars; a shoebox with some paperwork; and a photo album. I flicked through the photos. It was Longy’s life: I was in a few as was Tabatha; there were loads of his family … his entire history. I placed the album back in the trunk and continued to rummage. I’d seen it initially when I’d lifted the lid; instinctively it had caught my eye. It was a small intricately carved wooden box with a varnished finish. The pattern was mostly swirls and raised asymmetric patterns; no real discernable shapes just grooves on the wood. It looked like quality workmanship, handmade at the very least. It had a few stains and an odd scratch, but other than that was in perfect condition. There was a small brass hook that kept the lid closed. I flicked the catch and opened the lid.
    Staring out from inside the box, which was lined with padded red silk, was a scaled model of Tom Jones, the Welsh pop singer. It was dressed in a white PVC jumpsuit, had a small gold medallion around its neck and a hairy chest. It was an action figure; a Tom Jones action figure. To say I was surprised is probably an understatement.
    ‘ What the hell were you up to, Longy?’ I proclaimed, as I pulled the little Tom Jones out of the box.
    The thing started singing. The minute the figure came out of the box the music