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

blared out of it, it was singing ‘Kiss’ by Tom Jones
    I twirled it in my hands as the music continued to play. I checked through the box. Empty. Nothing.
    ‘ Okay, this is odd,’ I said to myself.
    I put little Tom back in his box and the music stopped, which was a relief. Don't get me wrong I don't mind a bit of Tom Jones, but there's a time and a place, and that wasn't it. I closed the lock-up and jumped into Betsy, flinging the box in the back.
    I started Betsy, put her into gear, and then just sat there. I didn't know what to do. Truthfully, I had been expecting something more helpful in the box. I revved Betsy and pumped the pedal a bit. The revs helped me think. I pulled out the phone and told Tommy-Two-Tooth I was coming to see him and then headed off to The Hanging Man. I had no idea what I was doing and this seemed as good an idea as any. Maybe he knew what the box and Tom Jones were about. I drove back through the city. The traffic had started to pick up and the going was slow.
    I parked up round the corner from The Hanging Man. I needed to take some pictures of the box and Tom Jones to show Tommy-Two-Tooth.
    Usually, whenever the occasion’s occurred that I’ve come into possession of something that I didn’t know how to sell, I’d take photos of it and then show them to Tommy-Two-Tooth. Tommy always requested photos. He never asked to see the actual merchandise; never wanted to get his fingers near enough to become imprinted.
    I took out my phone and started snapping away, shooting the box inside and out, as well as various angles of the Tom Jones action figure, which started singing the second it was released from its confines. God knows what anybody passing would have thought. Once I'd finished making sure to get all the sides and angles, as Tommy is a fussy bugger, I went to The Hanging Man.

Thursday 4:00 p.m. (The Hanging Man)
    Geronimo was behind the bar, and the few early entrants were well on the road to oblivion. I nodded to Geronimo and went over to Tommy’s booth. Tommy was alone reading the paper and nursing a cognac.
    ‘ Good evening, Wolfy,’ he said not even raising his eyes.
    ‘ Tommy,’ I sighed, slumping into the chair opposite.
    Tommy’s definitely the other side of sixty, maybe even on the pension. He had a natural elegance; a debonair and slightly haughty air about him, like a Victorian colonel. He even had the moustache; an upturned handlebar.
    He was dressed as always in one of those Victorian style suits he always wore. The only part of Tommy that was out of place with his Victorian gent persona were the two gold-tipped alligator teeth that he wore round his neck on a thin gold chain … which was how he got his name, not as may have been presumed, due to a lack of dental requirements.
    ‘ So what can I do for you this evening?’ he enquired.
    ‘ I need some info on this stuff.’ I flipped out the phone and showed him the pictures.
    ‘ It would appear to be a hand-carved wooden box and a replica of the Welsh singer Tom Jones.’
    ‘ Yes, Tommy, I know that. I'm trying to find out something else.’
    ‘ Such as?’
    ‘ Longy told me to look after these things before he left. I think it might be connected to his death. Well, I'm hoping it is.’
    ‘ Ah. Can't help you there, old bean, although Patrice Laussant will buy the box.’
    ‘ I don’t want to sell it I just want to know what these things are, and whether Longy was killed because of them.’
    ‘ Like I said, I can’t help you there, but go see him, you may find it interesting.’
    ‘ Yeah?’ I replied in exasperation.
    ‘ Yes.’
    ‘ Fine, I’ll go. Gimme the address.’
    Tommy gave me the address and told me that Patrice Laussant wouldn’t be there until Saturday. The box and Tom Jones were a key and this Patrice Laussant connection would tell me what they meant. Tommy was still bound by confidentiality to Longy, but that’s why I had to see this guy. It was my only lead.
    Leaving Tommy in his booth