Held Together with Threads

Edward sighed as he made his way into his office.

“Hey, Eddy.”

“Hey, Rosie.” He looked to see his sister walking out of the supply closet, a stack of papers in hand, cane in the other. Her skirt exposed her prosthetic leg, which was yellow today.

“I have great news.” She quickly moved to her desk, placing her cane on her lap. “We have a call!”

“What happened?” Edward walked over to the desk, dropping his bag down.

Rose raised her arms excitedly and smiled. “Okay. Some lady called…. Um….” She looked around the desk, “Here! Okay,” she pulled up a pink sticky note, “Tulip Martin. She owns that old bakery downtown. It got broken into last night.”

“How?”

“Picked the lock. They have it on camera. They only took one thing. A jar.”

“Then why did she call us. That’s for the cops.” Edward grabbed his bag and started to walk to his office door. “And it doesn’t sound like much.” He grabbed the doorknob.

“According to Martin the cops aren’t paying much attention because it’s so cut and dry. They’re more or less leaving it up to insurance. But Tulip is willing to pay for someone to get that jar back.”

“And why’s that?” He opened the door.

“Because the jar was filled with five pounds of something valuable.”

Edward stopped and turned around. “What’s so valuable about it?”

Rose nodded. “No clue. But it’s the secret ingredient to many of the pastries. And apparently it’s too expensive to just buy back.”

“To expensive?’

“Yeah.” She raised her eyebrows excitedly. “It’s worth almost $25,000.”

Edward rubbed his face, stubble scratching his hand. “Get me the address.”

Rose held up another pink sticky note. “Right here.”

*~*

As he parked the car, Edward looked up at the sign.

Amelia’s Bakery

The small building looked cute: brick walls, a large window was lined with yellow painted windowpanes, a pale red door, and a plastic doormat. The CLOSED sign was painted in pale pastels with a floral design.

The man opened his car door and stepped into the cool Michigan air. Edward could see the old security cameras in the corners of his eye, a small green light blinked every few seconds. The conditions of downtown did not surprise him. The sidewalks were always empty on this side of town. Every other building was run down after years of disrepair. And after the mayor passed the “Lector Beauty Act” almost all the small business here closed. But not Amelia’s.

“Are you Edward Phillips?”

Edward turned and saw a worried looking young woman standing behind him. She was dressed in athletic clothes, a red bag lung low on her right arm, a golden watch laid on her wrist, and a large afro pulled back into a thick ribbon that dangled below the nape her neck.

“Yes, I am,” he said. “Are you Tulip Martin?”

She nodded, “I thought you’d be older.”

“Most people do.” Edward looked at the bakery. “Can we go in?”

“Of course.”

The two walked onto the broken sidewalk and to the door. Tulip grabbed a key from her bag, and a bell rung as she opened the door.

The bakery was just as cute as the outside: fake pastries lined pastel yellow shelves upon pale green walls. The glass counter had no goods, only the plates they would sit upon and handwritten signs. The glass tables stood on pink legs, and matching chairs sat upon then upside down.

Tulip threw her bag down, “So, can you help me?”

Edward looked at Tulip confused. “Well, yeah.” He said. “But I don’t know that much.”

The young woman looked confused, “I answered all your secretary’s questions.”

“Well, I need to know what’s in the jar first.” Edward ran his hand through his hair. “You told Rose it was your “secret ingredient” but that’s not enough. I need details. What is it? Why can’t you buy it back? Why wont the cops help?”

Tulip rubbed her arm. “I can’t tell you. I didn’t even tell the cops. It could hurt my business.”

Edward scoffed. “Then I can’t help you Mrs. Martin.” He turned and started to walk toward the door. As he grasped the doorknob Tulip called out, “Wait!”

The woman sighed. “I’ll tell you. But… I need to know that you will never anyone what it is. As long as this bakery is open.”

Edward stared at Tulip. She was angry, nails were digging into her palms.

“I won’t tell a soul, Mrs. Martin.”

She took a deep breath, “I need a drink if I’m going to tell you.” She checked her watch. “And a coffee.” She disappeared into a back room. “Pick a table!” She yelled. “I don’t care which!”

Edward looked around at the five tables. He chose the closest and as he pulled down the wooden chairs Tulip yelled again. “Do you want coffee?”

“Yeah!” He took off his coat. “Plenty of cream and sugar please!” He placed his coat on the back of the chair and sat. He pulled out his notepad. He opened the leather carefully, and ran his fingers over the nine pens, and chose his lucky red.

After a few minutes Tulip returned with a black tray with two pastel blue cups and a bottle of whisky. She placed the cups down, the light cup for Edward and black for her. She grabbed the bottle and placed the tray under her arm. “Irish?”

“Will my sister know after this one cup at,” Edward looked at his watch. “10: 32 AM?”

Tulip looked closely at the bottle. “No. This is way too cheap.”

“Then sure.”

Tulip sat and poured whiskey until the cup was full.

Edward smiled as he thanked her and took a sip of coffee.

“The jar is filled with Saffron threads.”

Edward chocked on the coffee. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his ratty sweater. “Saffron? You’re not serious. Threads are priced at… what… $4,000 a pound.”

Tulip laughed, “Yeah. That’s why I need it back. I’ve been slowly collecting threads and I’ve ended up with five pounds of ground threads. It’s worth $25,000.”

“Yeah, I’m way cheaper than that.”

“Tell me about it.” She took a large swig of her coffee.

Edward rubbed his eyes, “Why couldn’t you tell me that earlier?”

“My great- grandmother has been putting it in her pastries since she opened the bakery. It’s worth a lot, and the last thing a black woman needed then was someone finding out she had something valuable. I have no clue how she got it. I get it from Spain. But it’s still worth a lot and you see where my bakery is.” She gestured outwardly. “I didn’t want to get robbed,” She laughed. “And we make good money with our “secret ingredient” pull.”

Edward took a sip of his coffee. “Okay. What do you need me to do?”

“Find out who took my Saffron and get it back. That’s it. I just need it back as soon as possible.”

“What of the robbers?”

Tulip downed the rest of her coffee. “I’ll let the cops deal with them. I just need my threads.”

“Do you have insurance?”

“Of course. But they won’t cover more than $9,500. Which can get me maybe two pounds. And a $15,000 loss.”

As he drank the last bit of coffee, Edward had a thought. “How can you afford it? To the point you have five pounds of it?”

“This place pays for itself. And since my wife is a lawyer, I can a make sure I get the threads without going broke.”

“Do your employees know about the threads?’ Edward asked. “Can they get to it?”

“Not even my wife knows. I give it to my employees in bowls and I have it locked up in my office with a now missing padlock. The only people who know are you, me, and my brother, Columbus.”

Brother…

“And where’s he?”

“He hated baking and became a lawyer.” Tulip took a drink. “He works with my wife, Maria, at Martin-Hernandez Law Firm.”

“Does he get any profits?”

“No. He doesn’t want any part of this place. If it were up to him, we would have sold this place after my mother died. But I love it here.” Tulip shrugged. Her eyes went wide and shook her head. “But he wouldn’t do anything to this place. He knows it makes me happy.”

“Okay.” Edward stood and grabbed his coat. “Thank you for the coffee. I’ll find your Saffron. I’ll need $500 wired to my office. And the rest will depend on how long it takes.”

“I can do that.” The young woman stood and shook his hand. “Thank you.”

Edward walked out of the bakery and grabbed his phone. As it rang, he stepped into his car and plugged it into his radio. As he looked at the road, Rose answered.

“Hey Eddy.”

“Hey Rosie.”

“So, what’s going on?”

Edward started back down to his office. “Look into Columbus Martin. He’s a local lawyer. Tulips brother.”

“Legally… or illegally?”

Edward thought for a moment. “Get me addresses, last or current location, and finances… And I need those security tapes. I don’t care how.”

“You got it.”

*~*

The next day Edward arrived in front of Columbus’ house. He could see the man sitting at his office desk. He was a thin man, like his sister, but was dressed in a pressed suit. His office was fille--

“Hey!”

Edward jumped as he looked to his Rose as his now open passenger side door. She smiled and stepped into the car, throwing her cane back.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have news.” Rose pulled out her laptop from her bag. “And I get bored when you’re out of office.”

Edward groaned at his sister and leaned back into his seat. “What?”

“Well, Mr. Martin here is doing well money wise. A good $125,000 a year and no outstanding debt as of last year.”

Edward looked back at Columbus, who had not moved from his seat. “Student debt?”

“No medical. From his mother, Dahlia Martin. Lung cancer. But I did find something a bit odd. He like to frequent The Library. A local bar which is rumored to have a speakeasy basement where those with the password come to gamble. He goes in at every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night from 9pm to 3am.”

Edward looked back at her, “What about the break in?”

Rose laughed, “Some local idiots. They were in and out in 10 minutes. So, the-”

“They knew the padlock code. Which Martin would know.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think they met him. They drove three hours Gaylord where they transferred the jar to someone in a red convertible a couple hours later.” Rose turned the laptop to show a grainy taping of three young men handing the jar to a pair of arms. The time stamp was 8:17 am.

“Could it have been Martin?” Edward turned back to the house. Columbus had a silver sports car.

“Nope. He was working a case at 8am. But Maria Hernandez, Tulip’s wife, is out of town according to her secretary. She also frequents The Library. And from what I can tell, is not good at gambling or her job. Just this month she lost four cases and over $15,000 at The Library. It’s the 18^th.”

Edward looked at Rose, “Tulip never told her what was in the jar.”

Rose shrugged, “Doesn’t mean Columbus didn’t tell her.”

“Where is she now?”

Rose pulled up a live camera footage: a woman was standing with two men near an old building. “Uptown. Talking to the sons of Alessia De Luca.”

Edward looked up from the footage. “The Mafia leader? From Detroit?’

“I know.” Rose wiggled her shoulders. “I know. I called my sketchy friend who lives in downtown Detroit, and there’s this new restaurant with mafia ties. And I doubt even with those ties they can spend a bunch of money on a whatever is in the jar.”

“They might just get it cheaper from them if they’re close.”

Rose’s eyes widened, “Can we go stop and or follow them?”

“I can,” Edward leaned over and opened the car door, “You can get a cab. I don’t need you to get hurt.”

Rose groaned, grabbed her cane, and got out of the car. “Don’t die.”

“I’ll try.”

*~*

Edward gripped his steering wheel as he followed the De Luca boys’ car. Rose had just hung up the phone after telling Edward what she found about the De Luca family. It wasn’t much, the information or the family, but it was enough tha-

Buzz

“What the-”

Buzz

Edward grabbed his phone from his passenger seat.

Unknown number

“Okay,” he pressed answer, “Hello?”

“Hey, Edward Phillips?” The voice was familiar.

“Mrs. Martin?”

“Yes. Hi. I know it’s only been a day, but I wanted to see if you found anything.”

Fuck

Fuck

Fuck

Edward sighed, “Yeah. I did.”

Tulip laughed, “That’s great! What did you find?”

Edward hit his head repeatedly with his phone. “It was your wife.”

There was a long pause. “My wife?”

“Yeah. She lost over $15,000 and it looks like she’s trying to get it back by selling your threads.” Edward’s heart felt heavy in his chest. This is why he stopped doing cheating cases. Too much bad news.

“But this could ruin my bakery. She wouldn’t do this. And how did she lose $15,000? That’s impos-”

“No!”

The De Luca car started to speed up on the now open road.

“I’ll call you back. When I have your jar.”

Edward hung up the phone and threw it to the side. He stepped on the gas and swerved into the next lane over. As he got in front of the car he turned quickly, stopping it three hundred feet away, and blocking the road. The De Luca car braked quickly. Edward stepped out of his car and grabbed the gun from coat pocket.

An older man stepped out of the car, and started to yell, but as he saw the gun held his arms up. “What is this?”

“Well Harold, I just need the jar.” Edward asked.

The older man furrowed his brow, “Harold isn’t my na-.”

“Harold, just give me the jar. And I will leave.”

One of the men from the tape stepped out of the car, holding a large jar filled with red power. “This jar?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“You’ll have to kill me for it”

Edward raised the gun and clicked off the safety. “That can be arranged.”

The other De Luca stepped out of the car and leaned on the door. “We paid $50,000 for it. You have that kinda money?”

“No. But you overpaid. By at least $25,000. And it being ground up probably makes it worth even less.”

The boy on the door stood up and slammed the door shut. “What do you mean?”

“It’s probably not worth much ground up.” Edward pointed to the jar with his gun. “But I doubt the seller knew that. I’m not even sure she knows what it is.”

The boy with the jar looked furious. “Fine. But we’re keeping it. I’m not taking a $50,000 loss.” He snared. Edward could see the other boy pull slowly pulling out a gun, along with the driver.

“No, you’re not.” Edward shot the armed boy in the arm, then the driver. “Just give me the jar and take your loss. I am not afraid of shooting you again.”

The wounded brother cried out in pain, “You son of a bi-”

Edward shot him is right leg and started to walk toward the other brother. “Please give me the Saffron.”

The De Luca with the jar looked at his brother, who was grabbing his wounds. “You know if you take this jar, you are making a powerful enemy.”

“A small mafia who makes less then 200k a year and has most of the family in jail. Not prison. Jail.” Edward rolled his eyes. “I’ve almost died six times and killed a teenage girl who was scarier than you. Give me the jar.”

The wounded boy shook his head at his brother. “Marco. Don’t.”

Marco looked at Edward, “A teenage girl was scarier than us.”

“She killed ten people and sliced my face,” Edward pointed at the scar over his right eye. “Give me the jar.”

Marco closed his eyes tightly and threw the jar at Edward, who caught it.

“Thank you. Sorry for this though.” He shot Marco in the arm. The boy fell back onto the car and grabbed the wound. “I can’t have you shooting me Marco. Have fun getting home though.” Edward walked back to his car and opened the door. Before he sat down, he looked back at the car. He shot two bullets into each of the front tires.

“Why?” The driver yelled.

Edward smiled, “Why not?”

*~*

The next day, Edward sighed as she opened the door to his office.

“Good morning, Eddy.”

“Rosie.” Edward held up a pink box. “I gave a crying Tulip Martin her Saffron, and she gave me donuts.” He handed the box to his sister. “They’re amazing.”

“She wired up the $500 kill fee and the $100 for the day. And I checked on Mrs. Hernandez, who has been fired. Oh, and we got another death threat. This time from the De Luca’s.”

Edward hung up his coat. “Fun. Ill add them to the list.”

“You know,” Rose said with her mouth full, “I asked you not to die.”

“And I didn’t.” He grabbed a donut. “I consider that a win.”

Rose rubbed her face. “Can you try not to get death threats. I don’t feel like cleaning up blood one of these days.”

Edward smiled and walked over to his office door, “Tell me if we get another call.”