Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [classic children's novels txt] 📗

“It is not yours. It belongs to the Holy Mother. You are not even a Catholic; you are an unholy Protestant. That treasure belongs by right to the Holy Roman Church. It is the sacred Holy Grail in which our Lord Jesus Christ converted water into wine, his holy blood.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “This is the Holy Grail? How can you possibly know that? There must be thousands of stone cups like this. You can’t even carbon-date it.”

“It has provenance.”

“It has provenance?”

Duffy, who was still staring at Emma, nodded and glanced at me. “It’s true. It has an unbroken line of documents going all the way back to St. Peter. He took it to Rome and handed it over, upon his death, to the leader of the Christian church who took over from him. Thus it was handed down to successive church leaders until it was given to the Emperor Constantine.”

Dos Santos took over. “When Constantinople was overrun by the infidels, the cup was rescued by a Spanish knight, Don Rafael de Aragon, Marques de Soto Maior. It was preserved at his castle in Galicia until the eighteenth century, when it was stolen by the then marques’s youngest son, who took it to Mexico, possibly planning to sell it. As an act of penitence, the Marques de Soto Maior devoted his life, his wealth, and his castle to the purpose of accumulating sacred treasures for the Holy Mother Church. There is a Cardinal always in residence overseeing the treasures. And it has been my life’s work to track down and reacquire the Grail.”

Duffy looked at him curiously, then turned to me. “It was not until 1856 that my great-great-grandfather won it in a poker game from that thief’s grandson. I have examined the provenance and had it looked at by experts. It is almost certainly real.” He turned back to dos Santos. “And I am sorry, Mr. dos Santos, but it is not for sale.”

I laughed. “Oh, Mr. dos Santos does not intend to buy it from you, Mr. Duffy.” I reached out and pulled the box back. “He employed Tamara Gunthersen to show up at your house and seduce you so that she could steal this treasure and hand it over to dos Santos. But she got other ideas and thought she’d take it for herself instead and sell it on the open market.”

Dos Santos gave one of his hysterical screams. “Enough! I can’t take it anymore! Enough talk! Talk! Talk! You have what you wanted! You have asked your fucking questions! Now give me the box!”

I pointed at the laptop. “Press the button and show me the transaction has gone through. Then you get the box.”

His eyes were wide. He hesitated a fraction of a second, then hit the Enter key and spun the computer so that I could see. I had just become a multimillionaire. I smiled at him and then at Emma.

“Geronimo dos Santos, Tamara Gunthersen, I am placing you both under arrest on multiple charges of murder, attempted murder, conspiracy to murder, and theft. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say may be taken down and used against you in a court of law.”

And then all hell broke loose.

Twenty-Eight

Dos Santos slammed the case shut, stood, and swung it violently at my head. I put up my arms to protect myself, and the case struck my shoulder. Emma—Tamara—let out a piercing scream and leapt at dos Santos as he grabbed for the box on the table, scratching at his flabby face with her nails.

I got to my feet shouting, “Sit down! Both of you!” But dos Santos put all his four hundred plus pounds into a huge backhander that sent Tammy sprawling across the room. I reached for him, yelling, “Give me some backup here!” Outside, car doors slammed and feet pounded the blacktop. Dos Santos heard them too, and despair, added to his massive weight, made him a formidable opponent. He put his hand on my face and heaved. I crashed back into my chair. Next thing, he was reaching under his jacket, and he had a sleek, black Sig Sauer p226 in his hand, waving it around like an aerosol.

I shouted, “Stand down! He’s armed!”

He glared at me and hissed like a fat snake. “Mozart! You were recording the whole thing! I should shoot you dead right here and now. Tell them to withdraw, or the first to die will be your precious billionaire. Next will be Tammy, and after that, you. Do it!”

“Pull back, Dehan. You know what to do.”

He put the box in the hip pocket of his jacket and waved the gun at Duffy. “Up, you. Come on! Up!” Duffy got uncertainly to his feet. “Open the door and step out. Remember, I have you covered at every step.”

He grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and shoved him toward the door. Duffy opened it and dos Santos hustled up close to him, with the Sig shoved into his lower back. They stepped outside and moved slowly down the steps. I stood in the doorway.

“Dehan, I want a unit following dos Santos. As soon as he is clear, you need to get in here and take Tammy into custody.”

As I said it, I heard a scream like a banshee with a hornet in her ass, and a freight train slammed into me from behind and sent me crashing down the stairs. I sprawled on my face and saw Tammy’s feet pounding the path toward my gate. I had a piercing pain in my head, but I scrambled to my feet and staggered after her. That was when I saw she had my kitchen knife in her hand and was racing like a thing possessed toward dos Santos, who was standing by a silver Aston Martin Vanquish. I shouted without