Murder on a Saturday Night

by K. C. Sivils

  From the tabloids, Heat pieced together a few pieces of the story. Anna had auditioned at a casting call for local girls from Texas for a film. She’d wowed the Casting Director who had yet to cast the female lead, the result being the role was offered to Anna under the condition she leave immediately.

  It was a fishy story, but Heat clung to it to keep from losing his mind. If Anna had left him for a movie role, he could understand. He didn’t like it, but he told himself he could understand it. Since they had been small children, Anna had dreamed of being a star of both the big screen and the small screen. It had been their plan after college and getting married to move to Hollywood. Heat would get a job and support Anna while she took additional acting classes and auditioned for roles.

  His buddies had turned on Anna immediately. Boucher, in particular, had some nasty things to say about the love of Heat's life. This led to more than one scrum between the best friends, followed by a sufficiently long cooling-off period where the two had nothing to do with each other. Much later, Heat learned Boucher had been instrumental in arranging for constant supervision of Heat. Supervision that proved necessary to keep Heat sober enough to finish his last semester of school and, most importantly, keep him from departing for California in pursuit of Anna.

  When Heat learned of this, the ensuing combat had resulted in Boucher pinning Heat against the wall of their apartment, his head at a precarious angle, and one of their friends holding Heat's legs while Boucher maintained his headlock.

  “Let me go.”

  “No. Not until you promise you aren’t going to do some stupid, fool thing like go to Hollywood to find Anna.”

  “I need to talk to her! Now let me up this minute Elijah.”

  “Fine,” Boucher had declared, releasing Heat from the headlock. “Be a pigheaded fool.”

  Heat contemplated kicking their friend who’d been holding his feet but decided better of it. On the other hand, the idea of rubbing Boucher’s face on the rug had a certain appeal.

  "Anna hasn't written you once, Heat. Not so much as an 'I'm sorry,' note with some pathetic excuse as to why she turned tail and ran."

  “It’s not like that,” Heat protested, rising to his feet.

  Boucher responded by sticking his chin out, offering Heat a perfect target. “It’s exactly like that. Anna hasn’t called, she hasn’t written, she hasn’t even told one of her girlfriends to come and talk your ear off explaining in ways only a female could understand why it just wasn’t meant to be.”

  “It’s not like that,” Heat mumbled weakly, knowing Boucher spoke the truth.

  “You deserve to know why,” Boucher said firmly. “If not face-to-face, if not on the phone, then at least a Dear John letter. But she ain’t done none of that, Heat.”

  Spent physically and emotionally, Heat had leaned against the wall and slipped to the floor. Boucher had joined him on the floor with a case of beer, ordering their friends to leave. Together the two of them had finished off the case, Boucher bashing Anna, and Heat bemoaning the fact his heart was broken and would never heal.

  The pair barely made it to class the following day. The professor watched them, sitting at the back of the class, caps pulled down over their eyes, and with sunglasses on, only slightly bemused by their lack of attention as he remembered his undergraduate days. Between their splitting headaches, dry mouths, and nausea, it had been all the pair could do to make it through the class.

  Boucher’s roar as the Tigers scored the same touchdown again stirred Heat from his memories. Anna was the source of his troubles again, and like so many years ago, Elijah Boucher, his friend, was here for him.

  It wasn’t going to be easy to tell Boucher what he’d decided.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “I’ve been waiting for you to return.”

  Nick noted the bemused expression on his captor's face. It was neither an ugly nor a handsome face, rather instead, it was one that should be noted for its plainness. Brown eyes stared out over a forgettable nose which was positioned between cheeks that were neither prominent nor sunken. The man's lips framed an average-sized mouth containing teeth that were not yellow but weren't particularly white either. No scars marred the surface of the man's face, not even an acne scar or two from his teenage years. His frame was average in every way, height, weight, and build. His brown hair was close-cropped but not in a way that would cause anyone to look a second time. Even the man's dress was ordinary and forgettable, khaki work pants and a blue, long sleeve dress shirt.

  What was memorable about the man was his voice. It projected a sinister feeling of ill will and malice, not because it was a deep voice or a shrill one, but rather a faint raspy sound that carried with it the hint of a growl.

  “I would imagine you would think of nothing else,” the man replied.

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you,” was Nick’s flippant response. “I mean, your henchman kills my friend in cold blood, kidnaps me, and with me tied up all helpless in this chair, you show up periodically and slap me around.”

  “And you’d like to know why?”

  “Yes,” Nick snarled. “I would. I’ve paid what I owe, or at least the bulk of it. I want my markers back.”

  “You keep saying that,” the man replied, his sinister tone conveying a trace of puzzlement. “But I have no idea what you mean, Mr. Devereaux. As far as I am concerned, you haven’t paid back anything.”

  Nick Devereaux was not a coward, but nor was he a particularly brave man. He was, however, a supremely confident man so long as he was in control of the situation or possessed knowledge he could leverage. Nausea swept over him with the realization his current predicament might have nothing to do with his gambling debts.

  “That’s right,” the man said. “I think your memory is starting to return.”

  ---

  Hot coffee possessed amazing powers of rejuvenation as far as Anna was concerned. Sharon had insisted they find the nearest local coffee shop and talk. Anna watched her mother stir her strange special mixture, which had but a hint of actual coffee while she sipped from a cup of steaming black coffee.

  “How can you drink that, mother?”

  “How can you drink that black acid,” Sharon retorted. “Now, tell me why I’m here. Why does my baby girl need me?”

  Minutes passed before Anna was able to talk without becoming emotional. She started with the day she’d caught Nick selling off some financial assets to pay for gambling debts and, leaving nothing out, brought her mother up to speed on the days before Nick’s disappearance.

  “You’ve paid how much money?”

  “Mom, don’t focus on that,” Anna pleaded. “I’d pay anything to get him back.”

  “And the last message didn’t ask for money?”

  "No. It just showed Nick in a chair, unconscious. He had blood coming out of his nose, and, mom, Nick looked horrible!"

  "I would guess so. Your father would look horrible if someone beat him senseless."

  Sharon waited a moment to calm herself. Now was not the time to tear into Anna about the stupidity of staying married to Nick. Her baby girl needed some support and a sense of hope.

  There would be plenty of time to deal with Nick. Something she planned to do personally when he was returned to his family.

  “Did you report this to the police?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did they say?”

  “That people disappear all the time because they want to. In Nick’s case, the police are convinced it’s because of the money he owes.”

  Anna watched as her mother considered the information she’d just obtained. “That leaves a private investigator,” Sharon finally said.

  “That’s why I asked you to come, mom.”

  Sharon’s eyes grew large with surprise. “You didn’t?”

  “I did.”

  “And he turned you down, didn’t he? I’ll bet he tossed you out of his office!”

  “It wasn’t quite like that, mother.”

/>   Her daughter wilted before her eyes, reminding Sharon now was not the time.

  “You want me to talk Heat into finding Nick, don’t you?”

  Unable to pry her eyes away from her mug of steaming, black coffee, Anna nodded.

  “You don’t want much, do you?”

  “Mother, Heat’s the best. He’s the only one who can find Nick.” Anna looked out the window and watched a young couple walk past, holding hands as they laughed, and found she envied them.

  “My agent’s firm says Heat is the best there is at finding a missing person, especially ones who don’t want to be found.” Anna paused, redirecting her gaze to her mother. “They say Heat will do what it takes, whatever it takes, to get the job done.”

  Unable to hide her disgust, Sharon spoke in a blunt tone. “You don’t want much, do you.”

  “Mother, Heat always liked you. Liked how you spoiled him. Please, if you won’t do it for me, mother, do it for Becca and Adam.”

  Her grandchildren were Sharon's weak spot, and they both knew it. Disgusted with the situation and both her daughter and son-in-law, Sharon crossed her arms and glared at Anna.

  "I will talk to Heat once. I will not lower myself to beg for Nick. I want you to understand that, Anna."

  Relieved, Anna let out a deep sigh.

  “I’m not doing this for you,” Sharon admonished. “When this is all over, you’re seeing a lawyer and divorcing that piece of garbage.”

  “Mother!”

  “I’m doing this for my grandchildren, not for you and certainly not for Nick.”

  Standing up, Sharon grabbed her purse and picked up her drink. She looked at it with a sour expression, tossing the drink in the trash receptacle as she walked towards the exit. Anna stood up and followed her mother, tossing her lukewarm cup of coffee in the same trash receptacle.

  If anyone could talk James Benoit Heatley into doing something he didn’t want to do, it was her mother.

  ---

  “I can’t believe you’re even considering this.”

  "Shut up, Elijah. It's my choice."

  Amy winked at Blondie then chimed in from the couch in Heat’s office. “I’m with Boucher on this one.”

  “Me too,” Blondie quipped.

  “It’s none of y’all’s business,” Heat snapped.

  “Is too,” Amy fired back. “I owe you a debt I can never repay,” the pretty Amerasian receptionist replied. “That means I have a say in what happens to you.”

  Heat’s expression became befuddled, confused by Amy’s twisted logic.

  "She's no good," Blondie added. "You should listen to Amy and me. We're women like her. Women know these things."

  “Listen to them,” Boucher argued, pointing at Heat’s two young female proteges. “You won’t listen to me, I get it, but listen to them. Like Blondie says, women know women.” Boucher grinned as he spoke. "We both know it's true, Heat. It's why women can't get along."

  “Look,” Heat roared, pounding his desk. “This is a business. We get paid to find out information or to find people. Do you hear me?”

  “We’ve got plenty of work, Heat,” Amy pleaded. “Let this one go.”

  “I’m the boss,” Heat barked. “I decide what cases to take. I’m taking this one.”

  His pronouncement earned Heat resentful glares from the trio present, filling the room with a palpable silence.

  “Think of it as a way for me to stick the knife in,” Heat finally muttered. “Besides, what happened is between Anna and me, not y’all.”

  Another uncomfortable silence filled the room as Heat felt compelled to stare down the others. The ring of the bell to the entrance of the receptionist area broke the stalemate as Amy stood to go and greet whoever had just entered. She returned a minute later.

  “Heat, there is someone here to see you.”

  “Did she give a name?”

  "No, just that she wants to hire you, and it is horribly important that she talk to you as soon as possible."

  The situation with Anna would have to wait. Heat needed to think of how he could win over his two employees and Boucher to his side. Meeting with a potential client would buy him a little time to plot his strategy.

  “Give me a minute,” Heat replied. “Then show her in.”

  Amy nodded and vanished from Heat’s office.

  "Let's go," Blondie ordered, pointing at the door. "I have to go back to the courthouse, and you're going to drive me." Boucher smiled at the pretty blonde who made a face in return. "I'm not going out with you, Elijah, and you can forget it if you think we're ever going to hook up."

  Boucher bowed to Blondie before opening the side door to Heat's office, leading to the hallway to the other rooms in the office. Blondie smiled sarcastically at Boucher as she departed through the door. Boucher grinned at Heat, winking as he followed the blonde into the hall and shutting the door behind him.

  Heat began shuffling files on his desk to make it appear more presentable. He heard the door to the reception area open, no doubt to allow the potential client to enter. Without looking up, Heat spoke.

  “What can I do for you, Ms.?”

  “Find my no-good son-in-law, James. That’s what you can do for me.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Sharon had no idea what kind of reaction to expect from Heat when he saw her. If she were honest with herself, Sharon didn't expect the response she received. Heat sat at his desk, mouth open in surprise for a moment before getting to his feet. Then, without a word, he crossed the room and took her in an embrace. Surprised, it took Sharon a few seconds to react. Waves of shame and guilt mixed with self-loathing washed over her as she wrapped her arms around the man who once was her son-in-law to be.

  "I have no excuse that I can offer," Sharon finally whispered. "Not for myself or Bill and certainly not for my daughter. What happened was beyond unacceptable, and the way we treated you afterward was even worse."

  Heat released his hold on Sharon and stepped away, wiping a tear from his eye. “Thank you, Sharon. That means a lot.”

  “Well, just ignoring you, not even returning your calls, that was wrong.” Sharon wiped tears from her own eyes as she grabbed Heat with her skinny arms and pulled him close again. “Bill and I were so ashamed, not just over how Anna treated you, but how she just turned her back on everyone. We didn’t raise her to treat people like that.”

  Uncomfortable with the display of emotion, Heat squirmed free from Sharon’s hug. “It’s okay. I didn’t exactly handle things very well myself.”

  “How could you? How could anyone?” Sharon said, smiling and stepping back as she looked Heat up and down. “James Benoit Heatley, you look exhausted.” Squinting, Sharon zoomed in on the ring finger of Heat’s left hand. “No wonder,” she exclaimed. “You, single at your age. James, you need a woman to look after you.”

  “No, I don’t,” Heat snapped harshly, turning his back to Sharon. He returned to his desk and sat down, frowning at Sharon. “One thing I learned from that experience is if you don’t give your heart to someone, it can’t get broken.” His stare pierced Sharon to her core, filling her with sadness over the harm her Anna had done to a good man.

  “That’s no way to live a life, James.”

  “It’s worked for me, thank you very much.” Heat leaned back in his chair, still frowning as his cheeks turned red. He waved his hand around his office. “I own a successful business, I have a house, and I employ several people. I have friends, you know, people who care about me.”

  Sharon watched Heat as he ranted. She’d touched a nerve, of that there was no doubt. If she wasn’t careful, there would be no possibility of getting Heat to find Nick.

  “I’m sorry,” Sharon apologized. “I have no right to say that to you.” She smiled a sad smile at Heat and pointed at the chair on the other side of his desk, in effect asking for permission to sit down. Heat nodded, motioning at the chair.

  Heat watched as the woman he'd adored as the mother he'd never had sat down i
n her usual ladylike manner. Sharon was fun to be around, but she was also quite proper. The years had been kind to her. Sharon still possessed a figure that would make most women Amy's age jealous. Her short hair had gone silver, and it didn't surprise Heat she'd made no effort to color her hair. The resemblance between mother and daughter was obvious, right down to their coloring and use of simple but tasteful jewelry. Sharon only wore a pair of diamond earrings, a gold cross, and her wedding bands.

  "James, I would like you to reconsider your decision not to help Anna," Sharon asked politely.

  “Okay.”

  “Not for me and not for Anna,” Sharon continued. “And most certainly not for Nick.”

  “Okay.”

  “Please, James, think of the children. Nick is many things, most of them just awful, but Becca and Adam just adore their father.” Sharon paused to lower her voice to a whisper. “Not that he deserves their admiration.”

  “I said okay,” Heat informed Sharon for the third time.

  “Okay?”

  "Yes, I said I would do it." Heat scowled sternly at Sharon. "But understand this, Anna pays top dollar, all expenses, and there are no guarantees I can find this Nick. Oh, and I'll need a retainer as well. I'll need to hire a detective friend of mine who's on leave from HPD at the moment."

  A flush of excitement filled Sharon, making her skin tingle all over. “Of course, Anna needs to pay. Serves her right for not kicking Nick to the curb long ago.”

  "I'll need to meet with Anna as soon as possible," Heat mumbled. "She'll need to provide me with everything, and I mean everything, related to what might have gotten Nick in trouble or it's a non-starter. The sooner I get started, the better."

  Excited at the unexpected turn of events, Sharon stood quickly to leave. “Of course, James. I’ll go and get Anna. She’s waiting in her car outside.”