I decided two things right then. First, a cold shower was probably exactly what I needed right now, and second, I needed to leave Mandy here while I went to explore J.T.'s Club. Somehow, though when I got into the shower, I just couldn't bring myself to keep the water turned to ice cold; instead I twisted the knob until I had steaming, hot water pouring over my sore muscles. I was beginning to feel them stiffening from the over-exertion I put them through last night.
19
It took some convincing to get Mandy to stay on the boat. She was determined to go to Little Rock with me. I reminded her that the police might not take too kindly to her traveling outside of the county. She reluctantly agreed.
I left Hellenston the same way I had entered two days earlier. As I left the city limits, I noticed a gray Mazda Protégé in my rear view mirror. It was far enough back that I only noticed it. However, after half an hour had passed I noticed that it was still back there. I slowed my car to 45 miles per hour, and the little gray car remained about a quarter of a mile behind me. I was almost certain that I was being tailed.
I reached into the back seat, where I had set my black case before I left. I quickly unlatched it. I felt beneath the false bottom until my hand grasped the cold metal of the Glock. I pulled it out and laid it on the passenger seat.
I am not a fan of violence; however, in certain cases; I will admit it is the only answer. After last night, I wanted to be sure I had the only right answer.
I continued to drive and waited for the right moment to reshuffle the cards. A sharp curve took me out of the view of my tail for several seconds. I slammed the brakes and slid the car to a stop on the shoulder of the road.
I grabbed the pistol from the passenger seat and quickly got out of the car. I slipped the gun into my belt at the small of my back. I leaned against the car, just as the Mazda came around the curve. It swerved quickly, and I gave a gentle wave.
The gray car stopped several feet in front of mine. I watched as Lisa Day stepped out slowly.
Surprised, and relieved, I smiled, "Are you following me?"
"Not really," she meekly denied like a child caught red-handed.
I cocked an eyebrow, "Because I will have been glad to tell you where I am off to. If you want to know."
Lisa's lips curled and pressed together in resignation, "Well, after last night, I thought you might be into something interesting."
"Last night?"
"You were attacked," she stepped forward and slapped my chest with the back of her hand. I winced in pain, and she smirked. She had a tiny bit of revenge for the humiliation I had just heaped on her.
She continued, "I thought you might actually be on to something if you are stirring up hornets like that. After all, the police are keeping an eye on you since Leigh Rozen's suicide."
"So what do you know about her suicide?" I asked.
"I know enough to guess it wasn't a suicide. So unless you killed her, then there is another murder here." She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her jacket. She slid one from the pack and slipped it between her lips. "I figure though that if Scott Gaither can't pin it
on you, then he'll let it go as a suicide. Don't you agree?"
"I wouldn't know right off."
Lisa turned away from me as she lit her cigarette. She pulled a breath of smoke in and exhaled. "Well, it might interest you to know that they are fingerprinting her trailer right now. I hope they don't find anything incriminating on you."
"Lisa, I really have to be off. I do have someplace to go today..."
"Max Sawyer, you are not about to ditch me. I did let you get to second base with me in ninth grade. You owe me."
I smiled; she had let me make it to second base. I could still vividly remember.
"Lisa, I do appreciate it, and I do owe you. But one day I will make it up to you with a home run. Today, though, it is a bit too sticky a situation for you to get involved. I know you noticed how the local mod squad seems to be gunning for me. You don't want to be guilty by association."
"Don't worry about me. Scott wouldn't think of taking me down with you. He doesn't like you for sure, but in a way he owes you. He wouldn't be sheriff if Sheriff Hanson hadn't gone to prison."
Lisa was skirting the issue, and I was grateful. There are some people who have no idea what it was like. How hard it is to forget the bloody scene. Finding Leigh Rozen shot is bad enough, but when a seventeen-year-old boy walks into his house to find his mother and father lying lifeless in a blood-soaked bed, it is a memory that haunts you forever. I have to shake the image from my head constantly.
"Lisa, I really have to go."
"Tell you what," she continued to argue," why don't you let me go along with you. I have some more information that you might find interesting."
"Not today." I tried to be firm, but I was still remembering my crush on her in ninth grade.
"Fine," she stated firmly, "I can follow you."
"Follow me," I laughed, "I spotted you before we left Hellenston. You could never keep up with me in that."
She seemed offended at my derogatory comments about her little Protégé. She did not, however, let them stop her from trying to tag along. "I'll make you a deal. I have some information about Mark Lofton that I am willing to bet you don't have yet."
I was really getting worn down by her persistence, "Okay, what's the bet?"
"I'll tell you in twenty minutes. I would hate for you to have a change of heart and leave me here."
"No deal, if you are bluffing me then I'll find out after it is too late to kick you out without feeling terribly guilty about leaving you on the side of the road."
"Okay, then the bet is this. If the information I have is old news to you, then I will let you have your home run hit."
I smiled. I couldn't help liking Lisa. But still, I don't like giving in so easy.
I leaned in gently toward her ear and whispered, "What makes you think I even want a chance at bat."
"Because my pitch has greatly improved since ninth grade." I resigned my position. She had me speechless, a condition I rarely find myself. I moved to the other side of the car and opened the passenger door. She smiled graciously as she slid into the car. I shut the door and moved to the driver’s side. I pulled the Glock from my belt as I climbed into the car.
Lisa eyed the pistol, "Planning to shoot me, huh?"
"Only if you had been the one that sent me swimming last night." I placed the gun beneath my seat.
She nodded, "Did you see who attacked you?"
"Yeah, he wore a very large boot. We might be able to make a cast from the imprint on my chest."
I started the car and raced it onto the highway. Within seconds the needle of the speedometer was quivering around 60 miles per hour. I reached forward and gently pushed the disc sticking out of the CD player back into the slot. Then the sound of a trumpet filled the car and the road around us.
"What's this?" Lisa asked.
"The great Miles Davis. Just listen and enjoy."
"This is old people music. My dad listened to stuff like this."
I looked at her and sighed, "I guess good taste doesn't get passed down in the genes."
Lisa cocked her head, "Thankfully, nothing much got passed down to me."
"So, how are your folks?" I asked.
Lisa stirred in her seat, "Dad left Mom right after graduation. I've seen him three times in the last five years. He didn't even come to my college graduation. He cleaned out their bank accounts and left Mom with a ton of debt. I had to work my way through school, and Mom moved back to Atlanta with my grandparents."
"Oh, I see. Why did you come back here then?"
"It's still home to me. I have too many memories to just leave."
"I guess I have too many memories to come back."
"You know, Max. Memories are something you can't just run away from. You have to learn to live with them."
I shrugged, "Maybe. I like to ignore them."
"Don't you have some good
memories? Friends? Girlfriends? Dogs or cats?"
I thought about it, "I suppose."
"Try thinking about them."
The next half hour passed quietly as I sped along the country roads with Miles blowing his horn. I finally decided it was time for her to pay her fare.
"Okay, time to pay the piper."
Lisa squirmed, "Okay, this came from a confidential source, so I can't tell you where I got the information. It seems Mark Lofton had a lot of money passing through his bank account. Something to the sound of $100,000 has bounced in and out of his account in the last three weeks."
"That's a lot of money for a guy who rents a trailer and is married to a drug dealing whore. Where is it coming from?"
"No idea. They are all cash deposits. They stay for a day, and then they are transferred out again."
I pondered for a second, "Any idea where it might come from?"
"Not really. I checked with John Mead. He owns the construction company that Lofton worked for. He said he didn't have that kind of money to come up missing. Besides, Lofton hasn't shown up to work in three weeks."
I mused quietly. I did find it very useful, but at the same time, I really didn't want her to know that she had the upper hand on me. So I held my tongue and my thoughts for the moment.
However, Lisa seemed a bit anxious about sharing, and I decided to pump her for some more information.
"I remember John. Dad did a little work for him, but I don't think that he liked him much. I seem to recall that he used to run around with the girls."
"He still does," Lisa chimed. "The latest rumor is that he is running around with Tonya Woods."
"I don't remember her."
"Probably not, she graduated a few years after us. She moved here when she was a senior. She was a bit of a...well, a whore."
I am often amazed at how down and dirty women can be about each other.
"So she developed a bit of a reputation," I replied, "Anyone particular?"
"I suppose just about everybody," Lisa sounded almost venomous, and I could guess that Tonya had stolen someone from beneath Lisa.
"So, how long had Lofton worked for John Mead?"
"According to John, it was on and off for two years."
"So, did you know Lofton?"
"Yeah, kinda. We saw each other out."
I slowed the car as we approached the turnoff. "What did you think of him?"
"I suppose he was nice enough. He liked girls quite a lot."
"Made his rounds, huh? Recently?"
"I'd say. I saw him out last Wednesday with a girl."
I let out a slight laugh, "Not exactly the faithful newlywed. Who was the girl?"
"Well, I really am not sure who it was."
The answer was aloof, and I remained silent, letting my brain register.
20
We drove in silence. I had already pulled Miles Davis from the CD player, replacing him with Louis Jordan. I let Jordan's jazzy trumpet and velvet voice pass the time as we drove into Little Rock. It didn't take me long to find J.T.'s Club. It was a small looking place on the outside.
Lisa and I walked through a large wooden door. A blonde sat behind a counter in a tight, slender silver dress that showed nearly every roll and wrinkle she had acquired. A strong odor of cheap perfume floated in the air.
"Ten dollars," she flashed a large, fake smile. I gave her fifteen, and then I led Lisa through another door.
The inside of the club was dark, and bright strobes and spotlights flashed around the room quickly. In the center of the club was a large round stage where a shapely, nude girl danced awkwardly to the blaring sound of David Lee Roth singing "Jump."
Sunday was apparently not a busy day, and only a handful of patrons were seated about the club.
"Are you sure you want to stay?" I asked Lisa.
"Yes."
I would have preferred to have been alone. I enjoy my elbow room, but Lisa was obviously along for the ride. I am sure I could make the best of it.
"Okay, follow me and keep quiet."
We found a table against the wall. It was set back from the stage. It was far enough from all the action to provide a wider view of everything. I leaned back and took a moment to absorb everything in the room. A place like this could very easily have a hundred different things occurring simultaneously. It is always best to get a lay of the land before trying to trek it.
The bar ran along one wall between two columns. The left column was the barrier between the bar and a flight of stairs tucked into a small hallway. A large steroid induced bouncer stood guard in front of the hall. A girl stood chatting with him. Behind the bar, another girl in a tiny tuxedo shirt and tights tended to the drinks. A man who had obviously been drinking for a long time was being escorted past the guard by a buxom blonde in a bikini.
"Want a beer?" I asked Lisa.
"Not really, how about a margarita?" She pulled another cigarette from her case.
"I doubt it." I stood and walked to the bar. I didn't bother to order the margarita but opted for a trendy Smirnoff Ice for Lisa and a Budweiser for myself. The bartender gave me twenty ones in change, and I strolled back over to Lisa.
I handed her the Smirnoff Ice and the ones. "Go tip the dancers, and look like you are enjoying yourself."
"What?"
"I want to get a lap dance, and poke my nose around a bit."
"Fine," Lisa turned her beverage up and drained a good portion of it. She stood up and moved away from me.
I scanned the room till my eyes settled on one dancer standing next to the bar. She seemed to be a bit bored with the slow Sunday crowd. Perhaps, I could quickly entice her.
I made quick haste to the cold beer in my hand, and I carried the empty bottle back to the bar. I ordered another beer and slid a ten across the bar to the bartender.
"Keep the change."
I glanced toward Lisa, who was making progress with the dancer on stage. Lisa was standing onstage, and the dancer had both of her hands sliding around the inside of her skirt. Lisa smiled awkwardly, but her eyes shot me an evil look. I couldn't help smiling.
"You're late," a voice slurred behind me.
I turned around to face a man standing behind me. "The party shtarted without you," he said to me. He was in his mid-forties with dark hair and mustache. He reeked of beer and bad taste.
I gave him a smile in response, but he continued to mumble under his Budweiser ladened breath. "I jusht want to have fun, but shum folks have no idea."
I could feel myself being sucked into this guys spiel. I tried to step away, but he moved closer. "I got a limo outside," he said in order to impress me.
I gave him a smirk and said, "I'm not going to sleep with you."
He laughed at my retort as if he had thought it up himself. "I could have any of these girls," he crowed.
"Got that much cheese, huh." I was tired of his crap.
"Hell, yeah. Wanna get a couple upshtairs?"
I ignored him. I turned my beer upward and. A hand touched my arm gently.
"Hi there," a raspy voice came softly.
I turned my head to see the girl I had eyed earlier. She smiled seductively, and I was certain that she had practiced that smile until she got it just right. I thanked the gods that now I had an excuse to move away from this drunk.
"Hello," I replied before swigging another mouthful of beer.
This mistress pressed closer to me, and I inhaled the aroma of jasmine that came no doubt from her skin.
"My name is Trouble," she whispered in my ear. Her tongue lingered on the lobe of my ear, and I could feel my knees tremble. I am after all only human, and she was, after all, a very beautiful woman whose breasts were pressed tightly against me and whose tongue was mapping out the curves of my ear.
I took a deep breath and pulled away, "Charmed, I am sure."
Her smile melted from seductive to gentle. "What's your name?"
"Max," I replied, "Can I buy you a drink?"
"
Actually, I was hoping to get naked with you." Her seductive smile returned as her fingertips began where her tongue stopped.
"Someplace private, I hope."
She stood up and seductively wagged her finger for me to follow. Trouble escorted me past the guard and down the hall next to the bar. I continued to follow her up the stairs past another bouncer sitting on a stool next to a jar full of dollar bills. JT's was prepared. If any vice cops got past the entrance, then there were two separate sentries
ready to relay the message. This room was where anything illegal or unorthodox probably occurred.
The room was full of love seats; each one set to itself and angled so that one could not view the activities occurring at another seat. The room could be full, but no one would have any idea what was happening five feet away.
Trouble directed me past several empty seats to one in a corner that I imagined might have been her own personal space.
"What do you want?" Trouble asked as she removed her top.
I pulled a hundred dollar bill from my pocket, "Information."
Trouble was taken aback, "What?"
"I need some information about this place. Have you worked here long?"
"Are you a cop?"
"No, I had a friend that worked here."
"I've been here about a year," Trouble said as she snatched the bill from my hand. "Who's your friend?"
"Mark Lofton."
"Mark. Oh yeah, Jeff fired him a few weeks ago."
"Really. He was also murdered Thursday night"
She looked shocked, "Oh no. Who killed him?"
"I don't know yet. They think his fiancé killed him.
"Leigh?"
"No, his other fiancé. How do you know Leigh?"
Trouble seemed happy to share some gossip, "She was Jeff's wife. I heard Mark ran off with her and stole some money from the club."
"Really, is Jeff the owner?"
"Yeah, Jeff Thomas."
"Oh, JT. But that doesn't sound like Mark. He was supposed to get married to another girl."
Blood Remembered Page 7
