"Hello?" The accent was as clipped as the previous night with a new note of tension that replaced the original note of confidence Tannehill first encountered.
"It's Tannehill." Tannehill was in a payphone booth a few blocks from Emily Brunner's apartment. The early night air was refreshingly clear and he could hear the evening's last few seagulls - he hesitated to call them night owls for fear of offending them - squawking over the back bay. Even the bus ride downtown had only taken a breezy 45 minutes.
There was a pause, "yes?"
"It's still Tannehill."
"Yes, I know that," the tension gave way to exasperation on the other end of the line, "what do you want?"
"I wanted to see if you and Miss Brunner would like to hold a cocktail party with me. You're responsible for the decorations and music. I'll be in charge of the guest list and crudites."
Another pause, "I don't understand." And it was true, there was significant confusion in Otto's voice on the other end of the line.
Now it was Tannehill's turn for exasperation, "I wanted to see if you and Miss Brunner would like to meet," he lowered his voice conspiratorially for no reason other than dramatic effect for his own amusement, "about the information."
"Oh yes," Otto responded, unwittingly lowering his voice as well, "we would like to meet about that." He imparted all of this in a tone that showed no indication that he and Tannehill had agreed to the phone call they were currently having the night before. Tannehill began to wonder who'd suffered the concussion from their encounter or how traumatic a kick to the nuts could be.
"Why don't we meet at Miss Brunner's flat?" Otto continued.
"Why don't we not?" Tannehill countered.
"Does that mean we are meeting at her flat or we're not?"
"We're not. See the thing is, Otto, I'm famished and I don't want to put you and Miss Brunner out by obligating you to cook for me."
"I see. That is indeed very kind of you."
"There's a diner near her flat where we can meet at, say, eight o'clock?" Tannehill had originally thought of meeting at the Happy Hour Diner. It was on his turf and close to his old precinct. Though he was no welcome guest at the police station, he still had a few sympathetic ears there that he could bend when he was in trouble. Then he thought of Vera. He wanted to make sure Otto and Emily stayed as far away from her as possible. He awaited Otto's response.
"So, eight o'clock?" He could hear Otto speaking German on the other side of the line and what sounded like ascent from a female voice.
"Yes," Otto responded, "we can send someone to pick you up."
"Thanks, but I'm not really a member of the tophat and chauffeur set. The bus should be fine for me. I'll leave now." Tannehill provided the diner's address and hung up. His watch read a few minutes past 6 pm. He walked toward the diner and found a spot in an alley with a clear view of the entrance. He patted the revolver in his shoulder holster for reassurance, leaned against the alley wall and stared into the diner. Currently, there were three customers seated at the counter - a woman in a red dress and her male companion and another gentleman with his back to Tannehill. A cook crouched near them attending to the evening's duties. He thought the scene would make a good still life representation of the city at night. A waitress sat in the far end of the diner waiting for the dinner shift to pick up. Over the next 30 minutes, those customers left and were replaced by other hungry sojourners completing their workday.
10 minutes before eight, Tannehill spotted Brunner and Otto with a third person trailing shortly behind them. Otto and Brunner entered the diner and sat down at a booth - both facing the same direction. Tannehill concentrated on the third person as he stood in front of the diner. Two minutes later, a well-dressed woman appeared and linked arms with him as the two moved further downtown.
Tannehill continued to watch Otto and Brunner until 8:20 pm. They ordered coffee or tea and sat staring forward, neither conversing nor betraying any exasperation at the lateness of their guest. Their hands remained above the table the entire time. He straightened and walked toward the diner checking his peripheral vision for any blurry movement headed in his direction. There was none.
He entered the diner and sat down in the booth facing them. "Sorry I'm late. You know how the buses run in the city."
"I'm not familiar with your transportation systems," Otto answered.
Tannehill shrugged in response with a slight good-natured smirk before continuing, "well, the good news is that I was able to find the information you've been after. The bad news is I'm not sure which information it is exactly."
"I'm not sure I follow," Brunner responded. Otto looked down into his coffee/tea stirring absentmindedly.
Before Tannehill could respond, the waitress interrupted him to ask for an order.
"Egg sandwich, extra butter. And a glass of milk."
As the waitress wandered away, he continued his previous conversational thread. "Turns out Snell had his fingers in a lot of pies. I found where he keeps his information but I need a few more details to make sure I'm giving you the right information."
Otto looked up from his drink and sniffed loudly, "I thought you already had the information?"
"I lied."
"Then why should we trust what you're saying now?" Brunner interjected.
"You don't have any other options."
"We could use the same conversational tactics we did with Mr. Snell," Brunner looked directly at Tannehill with her response and smiled slightly.
"How'd that work out for you the first time?" Her smile faded.
"Why don't you let us examine all of the information and we'll only take what we need?" Otto chimed in. Both Brunner and Tannehill stared wide-eyed at Otto. Both remained silent.
"Maybe. But, why don't you tell me a little more about the night of Snell's mishap first."
"I did not murder him."
"I suppose that's helpful and does tell me a little more. Why don't you tell me a lot more, instead? You waited to chat with him in the same manner you waited to chat with me? By hiding behind the door and ambushing him?"
"No."
"No?"
"No, he was expecting me. He let me in." Tannehill had forgotten that detail. Snell had been in a rush to get him out of the office. Of course he was expecting company.
"Go on."
"When I arrived, he was very casual. He was in his undershirt. I think he was expecting someone else to come with me."
"You were alone?"
"Yes, I was alone."
"Go on."
"I'm not sure what the purpose of your questions is," Brunner sighed.
"I need to know what Otto and Snell discussed in order to make sure I'm giving you the right information."
Brunner sighed in reluctant acquiescence to continue.
"Go on," Tannehill repeated.
"He was drinking the whiskey from the bottom drawer of your desk. He commented that you should buy something better that was worth him borrowing and then laughed."
Tannehill frowned briefly, "and then?"
"I asked him for the location of our shared interests and he laughed again."
"Your shared interests?"
"I thought you and Snell shared information," Brunner interrupted.
"I told you, I lied about that. I did stumble across the location of your shared interests though."
"It's in your best interest to provide us with the information."
Tannehill shrugged, "Maybe. For the moment you need me enough not to do anything rash."
"We have associates surrounding this diner who can be more persuasive than Otto was with your partner." At the mention of his name, Otto jerked his head in her direction and then lowered his head disappointedly.
"No you don't. I watched you enter the diner and waited to see if there were any stragglers. What happened after Snell laughed again?" Tannehill turned his gaze to Otto and resumed his questioning without waiting for a response from Brunner.
"He angered me. I hit him."
"In the head?"
"Yes."
"With the brass knuckles?"
"Yes."
"And then?"
"And then he became difficult. He stopped making sense. He would not respond correctly when I asked him for information."
"How did he respond?"
"He was confused. He kept calling me 'Sweetheart' after every question."
"Huh," Tannehill paused, "and that angered you more?"
"Yes. Exactly."
"And you hit him more?"
"Yes."
Tannehill stood up from the booth. "You two really are quite the pair. Your routine needs a little polishing, though. Maybe I should talk to your other partner to get his perspective?"
"Bellucci?" Brunner exclaimed and then swore under her breath immediately afterward.
Tannehill smiled broadly. "Exactly. Feel free to eat my egg sandwich. I'm afraid I have to run." He turned to leave and then turned back, "oh, don't bother following me right now. I've taken certain precautions to keep myself safe and you don't want to see what happens when I get jittery."
Brunner glared at him as he left the diner.
Tannehill zigzagged through the downtown city streets to make sure that Brunner and Otto followed his advice and then dropped into a phone booth. "Phil? It's Tannehill. I have a favor to ask of you."
[Author's Note: Well, we've arrived at the halfway point - 25408 after today's edition of 1585 words. I'm surprised I've made it this far. Without stretching, I'm relatively certain I have at least another 8000 words in me if not the entire 24592 I need to hit my goal. Still, at regular type spacing what I've written so far would stretch to about 100 pages, which is definitely novella territory.]
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