by Leigh Landry
And now she had a lead. A name to match.
A glance at the clock revealed she had two hours before the end of her shift. Plenty of time to do a little research and forget all about Marc and his check.
Marc stared at the soft, neat script on his legal pad while he for his rental car at the radio station. Since he’d passed out through most of the fourth quarter, he'd been prepared that morning to have to search for game highlights. He’d never hear the end of it if anyone got wind that he’d fallen asleep before the end of the game.
But the show had gone fine. Mostly because of what he was still staring at in amazement on that legal pad.
Freddy clapped him on the shoulder. “Need a ride?”
“No, thanks. I called for a rental.”
The mechanic had left a message during the show. As Sierra had suspected, the fuel line had been cut. Clean. No way it was a leak or rupture. The mechanic was certain. In fact, the mechanic said they’d done a number on the whole underside of his car, damaging more than just the fuel line. Someone didn’t want him going anywhere after that game.
In hindsight, it was pretty obvious why.
“Something wrong?” Freddy pointed at the notes in Marc’s lap.
“Kind of. I think I screwed up.”
Freddy sat in the chair next to him and leaned over the padded armrest. “What’s that?”
“Notes on the end of the game.”
Freddy’s nose scrunched. “That ain’t your handwriting.”
“I fell asleep. Missed the end.”
“Could have fooled me. You nailed the show. Sounded like you’d seen the whole thing. Who wrote that?”
Marc laughed. The defeated laugh of an idiot. “Sierra must have taken notes on the game after I passed out on the couch.”
“Seriously?”
He grabbed the pad from Marc’s hands. His raised eyebrows showed he was as impressed as Marc had been when he found them tucked into his laptop bag right before the show. “Didn’t strike me as a football fan.”
“She’s not. She had no idea what was happening, and she sure as hell didn’t care to find out while I was awake.”
Freddy squinted again at the notes. “That’s impressive.”
“Good notes, right?”
Freddy nodded and handed the pad back to Marc. “But I don’t get it. How did you screw up? The show was fine. Better than fine. She rocked those notes, man.”
“I didn’t see them until I got here. Let’s just say, I was less than grateful this morning.”
Freddy cringed. “Can you fix it?”
Marc considered that check in Sierra’s bag and shook his head. No way she would forgive him for writing her off like that. If there was one thing he knew about Sierra, it was that she could hold a grudge. And she was good about keeping herself from getting hurt by the same people more than once. He couldn’t believe she was sticking around this time, giving him a second chance. He was positive there wouldn’t be a third.
All morning he’d fought the urge to call or text her. To apologize. To grovel. To sneak into her work and her purse and take that dang check back. Clearly, she cared about more than the reward. The game notes proved that. But he couldn’t face her inevitable anger. Not yet.
Plus, he’d spent all morning convincing himself this was for the best. If Sierra was mad at him and cut him off, she’d be safe. He could live with that.
Well, eventually he’d be able to live with that. He’d have to.
Marc spotted the rental car through the glass door at the same time his phone rang. He should have known better than to hope it was Sierra, but his heart gave a little jump anyway.
No such luck. An unknown number.
Probably someone calling him back from that morning. While waiting for Sierra to take a quick shower, he had run over to Denise’s to get the documents he never got the night before. Bank and credit card statements and Denise’s list of account numbers and passwords. She’d kill him if she caught him snooping, but he’d rather her find out and be furious with him than ignore a suspicion.
He didn’t find anything major. A few minor cash withdrawals. No large purchases Denise didn’t know about. Nothing suspicious enough to get Josh in the kind of trouble Marc suspected he was in. But Marc still made a few calls and left messages on some charges that weren’t clear.
Of course, it wasn’t like anyone would hand a bookie a credit card. Well, maybe Josh would. Either way, Marc needed to make sure Josh was in the clear or find solid evidence that his brother-in-law was in over his head.
“Hello?”
“Marc Dugas?”
“Yes.”
“You leave a message about finding a guy?” His voice was deep and thick, like the muddy waters of the Teche.
“Not exactly. I was investigating some charges on a credit card.”
“You ain’t the police, are ya?”
“No, I’m just looking into a guy.” He debated how much information to give. “For my sister.”
“Ah. Well, we like to keep our clients…confidential. Know what I mean?”
Marc’s heartbeat raced and his stomach lurched. Who keeps confidential clients? Or gets nervous about cops? People doing illegal stuff, that’s who.
“Look, I only need to know what kind of client this guy is and what kind of business he’s doing with a guy like you.”
“A guy like me? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Marc turned to Freddy, who held up his hands and mouthed, What’s going on?
Marc was in no mood to play games with a bookie or whoever the hell Josh had gotten mixed up with. “Look, sir, I don’t even know who you are, so the last thing I want is to offend you. I just need information about this guy.”
“Aw, I’m yankin’ your chain.” A heavy laugh rolled through the phone speaker. “But I’m still not in the habit of getting guys in trouble with other guys’ sisters.”
Marc was losing him. He was so close to finding out what Josh was mixed up with and if it was a link to the snakes or the fire or the theft or his car. He couldn’t let this guy slip away.
“Tell you what,” he said before he could chicken out and second guess himself. “How about I buy you lunch? A good-faith gesture. You can decide then how much you want to tell me.”
A few moments of silence passed between them before the guy said, “All right. T-Roy’s? In half an hour?”
T-Roy’s was a little burger place just outside of Lafayette. If the traffic wasn’t too bad, he could make it there in half an hour.
“Great. I’ll be there. How will I know—”
“I’ll find ya.”
While progress was a relief, that relief didn’t erase his anxiety about meeting a potentially unsavory dude to dig up dirt on his brother-in-law.
“What the hell was that about?” Freddy asked.
Marc nodded to the door, and Freddy followed him outside to meet the rental car guy. He didn't want to involve Freddy, but he figured someone should know about this in case Marc turned up…missing.
“I’m having lunch with a sketchy guy to possibly pin the fire on my brother-in-law.”
Freddy froze mid-step and stared wide-eyed at Marc. When the shock wore off, he flashed a devilish grin. “You’re nuts if you think I’m gonna miss this. Shotgun!”
17
Marc used the drive to fill in the investigation gaps for Freddy. The call from the mechanic that morning. His suspicions about Josh. Even the mess with Sierra. Freddy took it all in, nodding like Marc was recapping a movie he’d watched the night before. When they arrived at the meeting place, Freddy finally balked.
“Hold up. We’re having lunch with the guy who slashed up your car so he could set fire to your sister’s house? Is that what you’re telling me? That’s who we’re meeting here?”
“I don’t know if this is the guy that did any of that. Maybe this is the guy Josh owes money to. Or maybe he’s just some middle man. I don’t know. All I know is it’s the closest thing I hav
e to answers right now.”
Freddy stared at the entrance to T-Roy’s. With metal walls and a metal roof, the place looked more like a warehouse than a restaurant, but they had the best burgers in the whole parish.
“So what’s the plan?” Freddy asked. “Can you just give this guy whatever he’s after from Josh?”
Marc shrugged. “Didn’t get that far. I’m gonna ask questions for now. You still in or you want to wait in the car?”
He didn’t want to do this alone. Now that Freddy had come with him, he’d grown to like the idea of having someone in there with him. But enough people were in danger already, and he sure as hell wouldn’t take his best friend down with him if the guy wasn’t up for it.
Freddy cleared his throat, then patted his thighs. “I’m in.”
When they walked through the door, they both scanned the dark, open room. It was noisy with multiple TVs hanging from the ceiling, all playing different stations, and grill smoke hovered in the air. Marc spotted an empty booth in an area noisy enough for conversation privacy and central enough to provide witnesses. A gigantic young man stood in the next booth and waved them over.
Marc glanced back at Freddy, who gave him a tiny shove in the back. Too late for chickening out.
Maybe this wasn’t their guy. Lighter-than-normal lunch hour traffic put them there ten minutes early. Since when did criminals start practicing punctuality?
But another look at the guy—tall, big arms, menacing, and kind of dirty like he’d just stepped off a shrimping boat—told Marc this had to be him.
“You Marc?” He extended a hand. “I’m Johnny.”
Marc nodded and shook the guy’s massive hand. They slid into the bench across from Johnny, who leaned with his arms propped on the back of the booth like he ruled the place.
“I’m Freddy.” He and Johnny exchanged a handshake across the table.
A waitress arrived to ask if they wanted to order yet. Without opening his menu, Marc ordered a Big Roy with fries and a Coke. Freddy glanced at his menu and ordered the same.
“And you?” She jotted down their order, quite disinterested as she smacked a wad of gum.
“Water,” Johnny said. “And a grilled shrimp salad. No dressing.”
He closed his menu and slid it to the waitress. Marc caught himself mid-surprise and forced his face back to a neutral expression. But not fast enough.
Johnny patted his waist. “Gotta keep in prime fighting shape.”
Freddy chuckled, and Marc wondered if he’d made a serious mistake bringing the guy in with him. Did he have a death wish or something? Sure, let’s laugh about the giant guy’s eating habits. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea.
But Johnny didn’t seem to notice or care and cleared his throat as he rested his thick, muscled forearms on the table. “You wanted to know about Josh, huh?”
Marc nodded. He swallowed hard, hoping Johnny didn’t notice. Maybe bookies or hitmen or whatever this guy was could smell fear. Like dogs. Or bees. Sierra had once told him all about how bees could smell fear.
“Yeah, so you see him, right? In your line of work. Or business. Or whatever.”
Johnny frowned. “I see him a couple days a week. When he’s around. Doesn’t cause no trouble or nothing like that. Not that I see. But yeah, he hits the back rooms once in a while.”
Gambling. That made sense. Josh was playing cards and owed somebody more than he could pay. But that wouldn’t be enough proof for Denise. Not to believe there was some connection between her husband gambling and losing her house in a fire.
“So these private games, there’s a lot of money involved?”
“Sometimes.” Johnny grinned. “Private games. I like that. Mind if I use it?”
“Um, sure. That’s what we’re talking about, right?”
“Sure are,” Johnny said, laughing.
Marc and Freddy exchanged confused glances. Freddy asked, “Which establishment are we talking about? If I wanted in on the action, where would I find him?”
The waitress brought their drinks, and the three fell silent, waiting as she placed the plastic glasses in front of them and tossed a pile of straws on the table. She smacked her gum, winked at Freddy, and left. As soon as she was out of earshot, all three leaned over the table again.
“The Daily Catch,” Johnny whispered.
He only knew of one business with that name, a couple of miles away near the Vermilion river. “They have a poker room in there?”
Freddy laugh-snorted and took a sip of Coke. Johnny was quiet for a second then erupted into a thick, rolling laugh.
“What?” Marc asked, not getting the joke.
“Poker. Ha! I’ll have to use that one.”
Freddy elbowed Marc. “It’s a strip club, you idiot.”
“I know that.” He also knew it was the dirtiest, most run-down one in the region. It had a health code violations list a mile long. It had also been raided more times than most, but he’d never heard about the cops busting any card games there. Then again, he wasn’t exactly on the Need-to-Know List for that kind of thing.
Johnny drew a few long breaths to stop his laughter, then fell into a coughing fit. He sucked up some water and slicked back his dirty, blond hair. He pointed at Marc and said to Freddy, “Your friend’s a trip. You know that?” He looked back at Marc. “You two come down some time. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Deal!” said Freddy.
“Thanks, but I really just need to know about Josh. Does he owe any money to anyone over there?”
“Nah, we got a strict cash-only policy, if you know what I mean. Except for the bar. Your ‘friend’ had run up a tab, which I believe is the charge you called about.”
“As far as you know, does he owe anybody money?”
“Listen,” Johnny said. “He pays, they dance. He’s out of money, they don’t dance. Nobody owes nobody nothing. Got it?”
Freddy smacked Marc on the arm. “Come on, man. There’s no square card swipe thingy in those g-strings. Cash only. What’s the matter with you?”
He’d been so sure Josh was involved in some sort of illegal gambling that he wasn’t hearing the obvious answer here.
Marc rubbed his eyes and tried to process it all while Freddy continued to laugh at him in the corner. “So you’re—”
“The bouncer. And training once a week as night manager. What did you think I was?”
Marc shook his head. “Never mind.”
So his brother-in-law was guilty of spending more time and money than he probably should have at a strip club and doing who knows what else behind Denise’s back. As much as Marc wanted to track the guy down and knock some sense into him, none of this tied Josh to the events this week.
He opened his eyes as the waitress brought their burger baskets and Johnny’s salad. He stared at his sandwich and didn’t think he could finish a single bite. Johnny and Freddy, on the other hand, had no difficulty diving in.
Johnny swallowed a huge mouthful of lettuce, then pointed at Marc’s burger. “What’s the matter? Not what you wanted?”
This time, Marc was the one who laughed. “No. Not exactly.”
Sierra climbed the three wooden steps and shoved her way through the crowd of smokers on Some Pig’s front porch. She let the screen door slam behind her, ignoring annoyed looks from customers in the front room. When she threw aside the orange-striped curtain, she found Liz hunkered over her bench with a pile of fries.
Fighting off Liz’s defensive hand, Sierra stole one then dropped her bag on the ground and pulled up a stool.
“What now?” Liz asked.
“I can’t visit my friend at her place of employment without something being wrong?”
“It would seem that way. What’s up? Begging for a freebie?”
Sierra wanted to object and pretend to be offended, but she had spent the last few weeks buttering up Liz for a new tattoo. That was before she’d lost her job and before Marc had shown up.
“No. Still not sure.�
�� She had some ideas, but she hadn’t had time to think about it over the weekend. It wasn’t something she wanted to decide on the fly, and her thoughts had been pretty preoccupied lately.
Liz shrugged. “It’ll come to you when it comes to you. I have some free slots today. Let me know if you want to sketch stuff out.”
“Thanks. I have some ideas, but nothing solid yet.”
“One of those ideas named Marc?”
“Nope.” Sierra stole another fry and chewed so she didn’t have to answer more questions. But Liz was patient. She folded her arms and waited for Sierra to finish chewing. The poor fry was down to a liquid pulp before Sierra gave up and swallowed.
Liz looked her up and down. “I’m not bailing you out of jail or visiting you in the hospital, so I guess that’s a good sign. Want to elaborate more on last night?”
Liz had called early that morning to chew Sierra out for not checking in the night before. Sierra knew she deserved it, but Liz’s concerned ranting had flustered her, so she hadn’t had a chance to offer any details. “Trap didn’t work.”
“Aw, shucks.”
“The only person I caught breaking into the house was Marc.” Sierra cleared her throat. “I kind of knocked him out cold. With a saucepan.”
“Lordy.” Liz shook her head and waited for more of the story. When she didn’t get anything else, she asked, “Is he in the hospital?”
“No. He’s fine. I think.”
She glanced at her bag with his check. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the concussion. Maybe he wasn’t thinking right this morning. Maybe he wouldn’t even remember writing it.
“Well, you don’t look fine.” Liz pointed a fry at Sierra. “And I’m assuming you spent the night there. So what’s the problem?”
Sierra frowned. She didn’t want to say what she was thinking, but if she couldn’t say it out loud to Liz, she might as well stop thinking it. And she absolutely could not stop thinking it.
“He’s pushing me away.”
“No kidding.” Liz chuckled. “You knocked him out, and now he needs some space. Shocking.”
“It’s more than that.”
