The Billionaire And The Cellist

Back from a luxurious business trip across Europe, from Istanbul to Milan, on Azul Airline business class. Eric Jones was seeking for international investor's to invest into his new club, JONES PLACE. Which he has set put to meet international standard.

Eric Jones watched the sea toll up on the sand. Even after a year, it still surprised him that this house was his. The Malibu Bahia beach house, his Malibu beach house, had everything the real estate broker had promised. High, soaring ceilings, a giant stone fireplace, acres of glass. ln the bedroom upstairs where his lover still slept were twin skylights, another fireplace, and a balcony that roped around the second story.

Even his had been impressed when he'd passed through. lt had given Eric a wonderful sense of accomplishment to show off the rooms, the tasteful furniture, the up to the minute stereo unit he'd had built in.

Now, at thirty, no one would call him a pillar of Bahia community. But he was a legitimate businessman whose enterprises turned a solid profile and allowed him a lifestyle the hustling street kid couldn't have dreamed of.

He owed the Cops,and he always paid his debts. Otherwise, he'd have chosen to be chained naked on a street electric Pole rather than sit tamely in a outer office of commissioner of Police of Bahia.

He sat, patient and still,in one of the steel black chairs in the waiting area,a tall man with a long legged, tough wearing a three thousand dollars jacket over a twenty five dollar T-shirt.His hair was black, straight and thick and his skin looks like pale gold.

The smooth,cool,clear black eyes might have been a legacy from his Russian great grandmother. Eric knew little of his family history,his own parents had been more interested in fighting with each other over the last bottle of beer, rather than tucking thier only son in with bedtime stories.

He would remember his young age,his attitude had deep roots,and stemmed from spending his formative years dodging Cops.

He'd picked his share of pocket by the time he'd turned fitheen and knew the best,and most lucrative channels for turning a hot watch into cool cash.

The same year he'd invested his carefully hoarded takes and winnings in a small gambling Enterprise that centered around point spreads and indulged his interest in sport. He was a businessman at heart.

He hadn't run with gangs.

He had a problem with authority and preferred it to be himself,in his terms and conditions.

After he'd turned twenty,his gambling interests had grown nicely a little too nicely to suit certain more established syndicate.

He'd had the hell beat out of him. Eric acknowledged bruises all over his body,the split lip and blackened eyes as a business risk. Cops were a great deal more of an annoyance that business rivals.

Eric had never pinned down what exactly separated this cop from the others in the line of shields and rule books. He knows that this cop who always hauled his arrogant butt in had been different.

Eric had found himself rehabilitated almost despite himself,at least enough to see there were certain advantages to,if not working in the system,at least working the system.

"Mr Eric Jones, the commissioner will see you now". she offered a polite smile as she Rose to get the door. The woman Manning the station outside the commissioner's double doors was young, attractive with a very interesting curling long black hair.

But he didn't flirt.

His eyes warned a woman he'd be dangerous. He had a dangerous way of moving as well,she mused. A woman could weave some very interesting fantasies about a man like that and fantasies were probably the safest way to be involved with him. Then he flicked her a smile,so full of power and charm,she wanted to sigh like a teenager.

"Thanks". She rolled her eyes as she shut the door behind her.

"Eric". Fred was up and coming around his desk. one hand gripped Eric's while the other gave Eric's shoulder a hard squeeze in a kind of male hug.

"Thanks for coming".

"Hard to resufe a request from the commissioner".

The first time Eric had met Fred, Fred had been a lieutenant. His office was small and glass walled. Now Fred's office spacious. The glass well was a wide window that looked out on Bahia mountains. Something change, Eric thought,as he looks around Fred's sliver glass walled spacious office.

"Black coffee suit you?"

"As always."

"Have a seat." Fred gestured to a chair then walked over to his coffee machine.

"Sorry I kept you waiting. l had a call to finish up, politics." He muttered as he poured two mugs with rich black coffee.

Eric said nothing, but he slightly quirked his lips.

"And no smart remarks about me being a damn politician at this stage of my career."

"l never thought so." Eric accepted the coffee.

"How's is the new club?" Fred asked.

"it's good. We draw a respectable crowd. Lost of gold cards." Eric added as he sipped his coffee.

"Wow, that so! l think maybe I'll bring Martha by for an evening out."

"You bring your wife,you get drinks and dinner on the house."

Fred hesitated,then with a little smile. "We'll see. l have a little problem, Eric. I think you might be able to help with."

"I'll be glad to help,if I can."

"We've had a series of criminal and internet fraud related activities within the last couple of months. mostly high dollars, easily liquidated stuffs, jewelries,cash. Just last month we've had three hits. Very smooth, slick and clean."

Eric Said nothing, as him slightly sipped his coffee.

"ls no news that the former governor's wife was murdered. Her jewelries and cash of over five thousand dollars were stolen from her."

"I had the news too.very bad news for all of Bahia community." Eric said as he rested his mug on his knee.

"The political class, including the president,are very upset with the recent happing."

"They have to be." Eric with a narrowed voice.

"Now the hole of Bahia community is under very strict surveillance and investigation." Fred with a thick voice, as he finished his coffee.

"interesting, well what can I do for you?" Eric rested his mug on the desk.

"According to my records, the marks are as varied as the location of the hits. lncluding that of the former governor's wife, all have one thing in common. They were all at a club on the night of the crime."

Eric eyes narrowed,the only change of expression.

"One of mine?"

"ln five out of the seven, yours."

Eric drank his coffee, the tone of his voice remained pleasant, casual. But his eyes had gone cold. "Are you asking me if I'm involved?"

"No, Eric. I'm not asking you if you're involved. we've been beyond that for a long time."

With a nod, Eric rose. He walked back to the coffee maker,set down his cup. There weren't many people who mattered enough to him that he cared what they thought of him but Fred mattered.

"Someone's using my place to scope marks." He said with his back to Fred. "l don't like it."

"l didn't think you would."

"which place?"

"The new one. JONES."

He nodded again. He turned back. "What do you want from me?"

"I'd like your cooperation. And I'd like you to agree to worked with the investigating team. Most specifically with the detective in charge of the murder case of the former governor's wife."

Eric swore, raked his fingers through his hair and with a rare show of agitation. "You want me to rub shoulders with cops, set them loose in my place?"

Fred couldn't hide his amusement. "Eric, they've already been in your place." With a half laugh, Fred stretched out his legs. With a soft voice. "Seriously I'd appreciate it, if you help me with these investigation."

He'd avoided prison all his life, his clubs have always got a wave or pass from the police authority, Eric thought. "For what it's worth."

"lt's worth a great deal to me." Fred rose.

"You've got it, isn't."

Fred with a little smile offered his hand to Eric again. "Thanks man. Right on time." Fred said as his phone rang. "Get yourself some more coffee. I want you to meet the detective in charge of the case."

He returned to his desk, picked up the receiver.

"Yes Paula. Good. we're ready." This time around he sat at the desk.

"The detective is new, but I have a lot of faith in this particular cop."

"A rookie detective." Eric poured more coffee. He didn't bobble when the door opened, but his mind jumped.

She was long legged, lanky with eyes like prime whiskey. She wore her blonde hair in a straight down the middle of her back, with a well cut jacket which you could assume to be a super model from Rio de Janeiro.

She flicked her eyes over him, but her pretty mouth stayed serious and unsmiling.