CHAPTER 25: More Than a Woman

The former Cliff House was always a pleasant place for breakfast, offering a view of Seal Rock at Ocean Beach, San Francisco.

CHAPTER 25
In the dimly lit ambiance of a modest alley bar off Howard Street, Precious May observed Ahab's profound melancholy with a sense of detachment that belied her inner turmoil. Unbeknownst to him, her familiarity with Terry's demise was more than mere coincidence—it was complicity. In a fleeting moment, she contemplated confessing her role in the tragic event, driven by the desire to alleviate Ahab's sorrow and perhaps assuage her own guilt as she contended with the consequences of her actions and the irreversible course set for the hours ahead when they would have a half a million dollars and more from Ahab’s brother's safe.

Finally, she said, "I meant to tell you that the police came to my apartment and questioned me about Terry."

"The police."

"Yes."

"Why would the police want to question you?" Ahab asked. "Terry's death had nothing to do with you."

"I don't think it was just a death. It was murder."

"Why would you be involved in that?" he asked, feeling a chill run down his spine as he processed her words. "He died in an alley."

"That night, I was one of the last people he visited. Terry came to my apartment to pay a debt. We talked and had drinks, but I didn't know he was doing drugs."

"There's nothing crazy like that. Drinking was a habit of Terry's. Drugs weren't a part of his life."

"Maybe he did things we didn't know about."

"Terry hated drugs," Ahab said. "There was a wife in his life. Nadine Schleger. Sadly, she overdosed. There was no way Terry would touch it."

"I didn't know he had a wife."

"A wife who OD'd. That's why he was so messed up. The police need to be notified."

"Do you think that is the right thing to do when we'll soon have all that money to leave town?" She caressed his arm. "Ahab, I’m ready to leave here with you. Remember that tropical island we talked about?"

"How could I forget?" Ahab's eyes lit up with excitement, and a broad smile spread across his face. He nodded eagerly, his mind already painting vivid pictures of the sun-drenched beaches and swaying palm trees. "Let's make it our reality," he replied, his voice filled with anticipation and warmth.

"I wish we were there now, away from all this rain. I hate the rain." She took a sip of her drink, recalling the night Terry died and the phone call she made:

"Miguel, you need to get over here right away."

"What’s wrong, Precious?"

"It’s a client," she said, glancing at Terry passed out on the sofa. "Something’s wrong with him."

"Is he dead?"

"I don’t know. Please, help me get him out of here."

"Okay. Stay put. I’ll be right there..."

Miguel assumed responsibility for Terry after receiving payment from her. Although she did not witness the events in the alley, she assumed Terry was deceased and experienced feelings of guilt. She regretted not contacting Ahab to establish a permanent connection between them. Now, she was unable to disclose to Ahab her desire for Terry's removal to retain more money without a third party's involvement. This situation caused her concern, as she feared Ahab might abandon her or reveal the entire story to the police. With everything so close to being hers, she could not afford that to happen.

"We will arrive the day after Christmas," said Ahab, producing two tickets.

"Are you serious?"

"Would I deceive you?" Ahab replied, handing them to Precious.

"Oh my," she smiled, examining them.

"Two tickets for you and me to Fiji."

"Oh Ahab, I love you," she said, leaning across the table for a kiss. "I truly do."

"Hello," Zeno said, with Travis by his side. His voice was calm yet authoritative, demanding the attention of both Ahab and Precious. Zeno's presence exuded a quiet confidence, as if he was accustomed to being listened to without question. Despite the interruption, there was a hint of warmth in his eyes, suggesting that his intentions were not entirely imposing.

"Zeno," Ahab said, motioning for Zeno and Travis to sit. "You must be Travis?"

"Yes, I am," said Travis.

"The alternative partner," added Precious.

"If that is your perspective," Travis replied.

Ahab chuckled softly, appreciating Travis's nonchalant demeanor. He admired how Travis handled the teasing with grace, without becoming defensive or flustered. "Well, it's good to meet someone who doesn't take themselves too seriously," Ahab remarked, nodding approvingly.

"You make a handsome pair," Precious smiled.

Zeno smiled back, blushing slightly at the compliment. He glanced at Travis, his eyes showing gratitude. "Thank you," he replied, his voice steady with a touch of humility.

"I'm Precious," she said, shaking hands with Travis and Zeno. "Nice to meet you."

Zeno nodded, attempting to divert his attention from her red hair, which resembled a flame in the dim lighting, while Travis responded, "Nice to meet you too."

"I have what you need," Zeno said, handing a paper to Ahab. "Zelta will be home alone and should be asleep by the time you arrive."

"Good boy," Ahab said, studying the information. "How is my dear mother?”

“Zelta is fine.”

“Does she miss her favorite son?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Why is that?”

“I never asked.”

“You will take care of the alarm?"

"It'll be disabled. Just do your thing and get the hell out."

"I believe I genuinely admire you, Zeno Eliot. I understand why my brother holds you in such high regard. You possess not only talent but also a unique quality, like a loyal companion."

"What you are implying is akin to a trained individual who lacks ethical principles."

"If that is your perspective," Ahab responded with a slight laugh.

"I can demonstrate such attributes when it is necessary, depending on the company I am in."

"Technically, we could be considered brothers-in-law due to your relationship with Abel, even though it's not legally recognized here. But beyond laws and politics, love is what matters. I assume Abel is still in New York."

"Yes, he is," Zeno stated, directing his gaze towards Travis, who was observing him with a bewildered expression. "The nurse will be off on Christmas Eve. As I mentioned, only Zelta, your mother, will be at home. I will not be present either."

"You will be out as well, celebrating, I assume, with your boyfriend, Travis," Ahab remarked.

"Yes," Zeno confirmed, still looking at Travis. "Yes, Travis. Although we are not officially married, there was a ceremony in Copenhagen when I was younger. However, that arrangement holds no significance for me and will be dissolved because it is you whom I desire."

A waitress approached with a pleasant smile and easygoing demeanor that instantly put everyone at ease. Her black hair was neatly tied back, and she wore a crisp, white apron over her uniform. Despite the busy atmosphere, she moved with calm efficiency, attending to every table, especially this table with Ahab, Precious and now two others. Ahab instructed her to bring shots and pretzels for everyone. He then glanced at the paper again, nodding thoughtfully as he considered the logistics of the plan.

"It's crucial we move swiftly and discreetly," he said, lowering his voice to ensure only their group could hear. "The absence of Abel and the nurse gives us a narrow window but also minimizes risks if we execute correctly." He paused, meeting each of their eyes one by one to emphasize the seriousness of the situation. "This isn't just about the task at hand—it's about the aftermath and ensuring that no trail leads back to any of us."

After returning with the shots, the waitress smiled and left quietly. Each of the others raised their glasses in the air, including Ahab who said, "You have done well, Zeno Eliot. You won't have any worries afterwards." They clanked their glasses together and downed their shots. "I wish I could see my brother's face when he discovers all that money has been stolen," Ahab added, laughing.

Zeno gave Ahab the house key and ordered more shots. Travis glanced at him, neither of them smiled. The air was heavy with unspoken tension, and the dim lighting cast long shadows that seemed to mirror the unease between them. The clinking of glasses and low murmur of voices around them did little to dispel the sense of foreboding.