He found Ten playing “Moonlight Sonata,” seated at a piano in the corner of the room, oblivious to everyone watching him. His eyes were closed, fingers moving over the keys. The man couldn’t have picked a more depressing tune. Well, maybe a funeral dirge.
Byron had made arrangements with Ten earlier; he’d take Mansfield home with him after he and Jane left tomorrow morning. While they were away in True Love, Byron didn’t want the cat scratching up his curtains or some such. Knowing Ten, he’d try to keep the damn thing, though.
Shaking it off, he located his lady lawyer at a table for two. Byron sat across from Jane, who was peering at the wine menu.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Now, it is.” He opened his own menu.
All the vineyard fruits were utilized in the wine, not just grapes—blueberries, strawberries, peaches, and apples too. Ten wasn’t kidding when he named the joint Poison Fruit. The wines had lethal names—Toxin, Contagion, Venom, and Nightshade, among others.
Personally, Byron preferred his family’s moonshine—but when in Rome. The server came to the table, and he ordered wine with his meal, while Jane chose grape juice.
“About this road trip….”
“You mean fact-finding mission.” Jane lifted her chin, daring him to say different.
Lord, she didn’t give an inch. If a man got in good with her, he’d earned the privilege, that’s for damn sure.
“About this fact-findin’ mission, we’ll need to keep it hushed, so we’ll need a cover story.”
Byron rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He intended to throw himself into the James Bond role. Spending a long weekend with Jane while they hoodwinked some townies into coughing up info would be fun in a warped way.
“I doubt it’ll work.” She grimaced. “If the FBI tries to find the anonymous tipper, this game’s over. And anyone we question could pick me out of a lineup.”
“Let’s hope the feds are more interested in coverin’ their own asses, since they had a real public loss. What’s your excuse for being in the area?”
“Tying up loose ends on a case, in case there’s another charge. Though I’m not really good at deception.”
“Don’t worry, I’m a master at it. It’ll seem more plausible if you have another reason to be in the area, like you’re tryin’ to write a vacation off as a business trip or somethin’. I’ll come up with somethin’ juicy.” He’d already been working on some plausible lies, though he doubted Jane would approve.
“Hmm, I suppose it makes sense.”
“What does?”
“That you’re better at lying. Criminals do it for a living.”
Damnation, did she have to make her dislike so damn obvious? Even when Jane agreed with him, Byron still felt like he was losing an argument with her. And here he’d thought he’d made real progress this afternoon in her bedroom. Of course, it was before they found the lady killer’s peep show equipment.
“You’re doin’ it again.”
“Being rude?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He composed himself. “Whatever I say tomorrow, I want you to just go with it. Can you play along?”
“You mean smile and nod?”
“Yep.”
“I can do that.” She didn’t look too certain, but at least she hadn’t fought him.
“Speakin’ of doin’ things, you and me gotta be a bit friendlier with each other.”
“How friendly?” She squinted.
If Byron had his way, very friendly.
“Let’s take some baby steps. Can you at least act like you don’t hate me?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“You don’t?” He perked up a bit.
“I don’t like you, but I don’t hate you.”
Suddenly, he felt like the bald boy in the old cartoon—Charlie Brown with the football Lucy never let him kick. It was totally a sexual metaphor if you asked Byron.
“Good to know. And you gotta be nice to the people we’re questionin’ too. We ain’t got badges or any legal standin’, so we’re gettin’ by on charm and good graces.”
“And I’m not pleasant?” He could almost hear the gears whirring in her head as she tried to drill down on instances she’d been ill-mannered, so she could correct the behaviors.
“Not to most folks.” Although he didn’t think it was malicious. “Ain’t you ever heard the old sayin’ ‘you catch more flies with honey than vinegar’?”
“Wouldn’t you catch more insects with garbage?”
“Not the point I was tryin’ to make.”
“Right, I’ll be nicer then.”
“Go on then—give it a try. Pay me a compliment.” Byron leaned back in his seat, smoothed his tie, hoping she’d notice how he’d put on the dog for her.
Jane studied him, then nodded as though she’d up made her mind. “Your suit is tailored and professional-looking.”
It was a weak compliment, but he’d take it.
“Thank you, darlin’.”
“I didn’t mean it, though. Your suit is all about showing off your wealth and privilege. It probably cost a thousand dollars.”
Byron put his head in his hands. “It don’t matter what you really think, long as you sound sincere.”
“Oh, I see, it’s all about delivery. I’ll practice in front of the mirror tonight.”
“Now you’re gettin’ it. Spread honey all over your words because it works wonders. Or, goin’ off your garbage metaphor—think of it as bullshit. Flies love a big ol’ pile of it too. Add a coatin’ to whatever you say.”
“That makes more sense.”
The server interrupted when he arrived with their meals. Jane got a vineyard salad with fresh fruit on the top, while he’d ordered a steak. As they were eating in pleasant silence, Dix sidled up to them with his girlfriend, Belle Nunn, in tow. They must’ve been seated in one of the darkened romantic corners of the restaurant—which is where Jane and Byron would’ve been if he’d been the one who made the seating arrangements.
While Jane and Belle exchanged a few pleasant words, Dix gave him a shit-eating grin.
“What?” Byron asked.
“Enjoyin’ your dinner?”
“I was,” he said pointedly.
“Yeah, I know how much you like it.” His eyes lit on Jane.
Byron wanted to punch him in the mouth. If Jane hadn’t been there, they probably would’ve had a tussle right here in front of God and country.
Sure, he’d bird-dogged her for months, but it was all about the chase. Jane was a lawyer for God’s sake—they were on opposite ends of the law. Unfortunately, she seemed to be the one defense attorney in Dallas who still had scruples. She, honest to God, believed in the system. They might have fun for a few weeks, but it wouldn’t go anywhere serious.
And I don’t have feelings for her, dammit. It is about sex and the pursuit, nothing more.
“Sometimes I hate your ass.”
“No, ya don’t.”
They grinned at one another—it was a running gag between the two of them.
“Stopped by Tucker’s place this afternoon.” Dix’s features darkened.
They had another thing in common—both of them hated their boss’s guts.
“Anythin’ interestin’ happen?”
“It can wait.” He shot a glance at the two women. “I’ll fill you in later.”
Tucker Cobb was a tetchy dickhead who was shady as fuck, with his blonde hooker parties and his even dirtier secrets. It was even rumored he’d had his own daughter murdered. His only surviving kin was his granddaughter, Mary Cobb, though the old man doted on her.
Since Byron had stepped up in the organization, he’d put the kibosh on the worst of the outfit’s activities, like getting them out of the heroin business.
Yet another reason Tucker hated his ass, but seeing as how the day to day operations fell under Byron’s job description, Tucker could go pi
ss up a rope. As long as Byron made money and didn’t fuck anything up, he was golden.
One day soon, Byron would have a showdown with him—he could feel it coming. In his fantasies, it was a high noon sort of deal—winner takes all. Tucker deserved to be taken down, just like Buckley had earned his comeuppance.
Just as Dix and Belle said their goodbyes, Jane’s phone rang, and she checked the screen then dropped the phone like it’d stung her.
“What’s wrong?” Byron focused on her ashen face.
“It’s Valentine.”
Chapter Nine
“Answer it.”
Jane shook her head. If Byron thought she was going to have a chat with that lunatic, he was out of his mind. Tossing her phone in the trash and running away sounded like a much better plan. The only way she wanted to communicate with Valentine again was in a court of law, with him in the hot seat, answering for his crimes.
“We gotta know what he’s up to. And find out if he saw the footage of me, or Vick and Jasper removin’ his cameras.” Byron’s voice was slow and gentle. “You can do this. You’re only talkin’ to the man, and I’ll be right here with you the whole time.”
He was right.
Steeling herself, Jane hit the button. “Hello, Oscar. How nice to hear from you.”
“Why did you take so long to answer?”
Byron made a “come with me” motion and led her down a hallway, then through a black door. Inside was a neat and orderly office, which must belong to Ten.
Everything in the space was black and white with no splashes of color anywhere. Stark Ansel Adams prints hung on the walls, nothing but barren black and white landscapes. A black desk flanked by gun metal filing cabinets. The only thing in the room which could be considered personal was a book, a collection of Edgar Allen Poe’s stories and poems, placed face down on the arm of the couch.
No point in delaying this any further.
“You caught me at dinner.” Jane bit the inside of her cheek.
“With who?”
“A client.” Jane prided herself on the obscure answer.
“Something tells me you’ve left a detail or two out. I need to see your beautiful face to have a conversation properly. Don’t keep me waiting, Jane.”
The phone beeped, and she checked the screen. Oscar Valentine would like to FaceTime. Accept or Decline.
Jane groaned. This was way worse than a phone call.
She showed the phone to Byron who nodded.
Clenching her teeth, she accepted. Jane sat on the black leather sofa by the window while Byron took a seat at the desk across from her so he wouldn’t be seen on camera.
Valentine appeared on the screen. “There you are. You look lovely tonight, Jane.”
“Thank you.”
He was seated in one of the Adirondack chairs outside of his cabin. She could hear a fire crackling outside of the camera’s line of sight.
“Now that we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, tell me about the man you’re dining with.”
Jane knew how to play the interrogation game. She’d grilled countless witnesses and knew how to distract and cloud an issue.
“I never said the client was male.”
He frowned. “You disappoint me, Jane.”
She wondered if the women he’d murdered had all “disappointed” in him some way as well.
“What do you mean?”
“Who’s the man? The one I saw lounging on your bed—the one I presume you’re breaking bread with now. He looked familiar.”
Apparently, the element of surprise was gone. She could either apologize or launch a counterattack. Jane was feeling braver now that she wasn’t trapped in a room with him. Having a ruthless mobster as a partner didn’t hurt either.
“So you don’t deny you planted those cameras. You violated my privacy.”
Byron jumped out of the desk chair and paced the length of the room. A muscle worked in his jaw, and his nostrils flared. Even Jane could tell he was about ready to lose it.
“I was watching out for you, protecting you.”
“You mean spying on me. And I believe the penal code refers to it as stalking. Since you had to install them, I believe breaking and entering is also up for grabs.”
She hadn’t intended to get worked up, but her nerves were frayed. Her plan depended on Valentine suspecting nothing. Dialing it down and being cordial seemed the best course of action.
“What’s his name, Jane?”
“Since we’re talking about my private life, it’s none of your business, Oscar.”
“I told you the other night. Everything about you is my business, I want to know you inside and out, my Jane. Tell me who the man is and what you’ve been doing with him. I’ll decide on an appropriate punishment, and then we can put this whole shameful affair behind us and start again.”
A punishment? She didn’t even want to know what he had in mind.
“Oscar, I—”
“That’s it. I’ve reached my limit.” Byron snatched the phone from her hand. “His name’s Byron Beauregard.”
Oh, no. So much for the calm approach.
But the damage was done, so Jane listened in.
Valentine sighed gustily. “Byron Beauregard. Your reputation precedes you. My, my Jane, you do keep dangerous company.”
“Yes, she does.” Byron smirked. “And Jane’s done talkin’ to you. You’ll have to deal with me instead.”
“No one stands between me and what’s mine.”
“Funny, I was just thinkin’ the same thing.” Byron cocked a brow.
Jane considered pointing out she didn’t belong to anyone but decided it wouldn’t be worth the wasted breath. The men were locked in some sort of alpha male dominance display.
“I know who and what you are.” Oscar sounded awfully judgmental for a man who killed innocent women.
“And what’s that?”
“A criminal, a Lothario. You’re not worthy of Jane, even if she’s been faithless. It’s not too late to ask for forgiveness and get back in my good graces.”
Jane could tell the last bit was intended for her. Valentine knew something was afoot, and worse, he was livid with her. Neither one of those facts added up to a long and happy life for her.
“Are you hard of hearin’? I said, your conversation’s over.”
“Only death will part us.”
Jane had no doubt Valentine meant it. She clasped her knees tightly together and wrapped her arms around her thighs. One of the rages was building, and she had to get it under control. The murderer issue aside, Valentine was ruining her life, professionally and personally. Someone infringing on her boundaries was threatening on every level.
“Yeah, I’m startin’ to think it’s the only way this ends too.” Byron’s meaning was crystal clear. “And, from what I heard, you’re quite the lady killer yourself, Mr. Valentine.”
Her heartbeat sped up, and she cast admonishing eyes on Byron. Don’t antagonize him. Jane hoped her expression conveyed her disapproval.
“Has Jane been talking out of turn? Did she come to you for protection?”
“No, dumbass, I saw the news.” Byron didn’t even miss a beat. The lie rolled off his tongue easily.
“Then you know the jury didn’t indict me. I’m an innocent man.”
“Yeah, me too.” Byron chuckled. “Since we’re both non-convicted men, what’s your take on this here situation? Because you were charged with these murders, you must’ve formed some theory of the crime. What’s your insight?”
There was a grave silence on the other end of the phone.
To deal with the terrible tension, she flipped the necklace through her fingers.
After a moment, Valentine spoke again. “I think whoever’s punishing these women is doing the Lord’s work.”
Byron made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “What the fuck do you mean by the Lord’s work?”
“Swearing is a foul habit.”
“So fucki
n’ sue me. Wanna know what a real dirty habit is…? Killin’ people who did nothin’ to deserve it.”
“All women are born into this word unclean, tainted by their sin.” There was so much trembling rage in his voice, it made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. “It goes back to Eve in the garden. They can’t resist temptation like a man.”
Byron stared at the phone. “That makes as much sense as tits on a bull. You ain’t baptizin’ ’em, son. Stop blamin’ Jesus ’cuz you like to drown girls.”
She had no idea there was a religious component to Valentine’s delusions—which was utter nonsense, of course. Truly spiritual people would never condone his crimes. And over the years, she’d seen a lot of criminals use the Bible and other holy texts to justify their crimes.
“But I haven’t hurt anyone, right, Jane? I thought you were better than this. And I can only promise you one thing, your punishment isn’t going to be easy…or painless.”
“Listen up, asshole,” Byron said. “You’d best find a deep, dark hole and hide in it.” His lips peeled back from his teeth. “’Cuz if you come anywhere near her, I’m gonna come up with a punishment of my own.” He hung up and tossed the phone on the desk with a curse.
***
An hour later, Jane was in the guest room at Beauregard Manor. In theory, she should be getting ready for bed. It’s a shame she couldn’t relax enough to sleep; a few hours’ rest might do her some good.
She and Byron hadn’t spoken much on the way back. The mobsters had talked the situation over before they’d left the restaurant.
Byron informed the others because they had a “psycho on the loose” and Valentine might come looking for them, but he’d gone light on the details to protect her. To be safe, she’d texted Georgia and warned her to be extra, extra careful and then promised to call tomorrow with an update. Jane didn’t have the energy to hash it out tonight. When she’d finished doing that, Jane also texted her father with another warning.
Blood in the Water (Dixie Mafia Series Book 2) Page 10
