Rest for the Wicked

by Ellen Hart

  “He got mixed up. I’m his niece.”

  “Right,” she said, elongating the word.

  Jane had the sense that she’d figured out it was a lie.

  “If he’s your uncle, why do you call him Nolan?”

  “He doesn’t much like Uncle Alfonse.”

  “No?” She thought about it for a few seconds, then laughed. “Understood.”

  “He can be pretty gruff.”

  “I think he’s a sweetheart.”

  “Me, too,” said Jane, “but don’t tell him that.”

  Carla circled around the end of the counter and walked Jane down the hall.

  “Is it okay if I wake him?”

  “I think so, but I wouldn’t stay long. The infection has weakened him.”

  Jane had assumed the second antibiotic would knock out the infection and he’d be fine in a couple of days. “Do I have anything to worry about?”

  Standing by the door, the nurse lowered her voice. “Let’s just give it some time. A few prayers wouldn’t hurt.”

  The comment shook her hard.

  “Let me know if he needs anything,” said Carla, walking off.

  Jane entered the darkened room. In the bed next to the window lay a man with his leg in a brace. He was watching the TV attached to the wall. Jane gave him a friendly nod as she drew the curtain around Nolan’s bed. He was asleep, snoring lightly. His cheeks looked hollow. Jane almost didn’t recognize him. Not sure what to do, she checked the water in his pitcher and found that it was almost empty. She left for a moment to fill it. When she returned, she saw that his eyes were half-open.

  “Nolan,” she said, smoothing his hair. “It’s Jane.”

  He looked up at her, tried to focus, to wet his lips. “Water.”

  Jane poured him a glass and then bent the straw toward his mouth.

  “Better,” he said.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “How do you think?” he asked, lifting his hand to gaze at the IV needle.

  “They still think this antibiotic will work.”

  “Love those doctors,” he whispered.

  “About as much as some people love cops.”

  “I’m retired.”

  “Once a cop, always a cop. Isn’t that what you always say?”

  “Sounds like me,” he said, closing his eyes.

  She hated to see him so sick. The only good part was that she wouldn’t be subjected to the third degree about her drug arrest. “Your sister called. She wanted to know how you’re doing. I told her you’d call her in a few days, when you were feeling better.”

  He gave a little nod.

  “I think I should let you sleep.”

  “Your dance card filled tonight?”

  “Not really.”

  “It should be.” He opened his eyes and gave a weak smile. “Afraid you’re like me. A loner.”

  “Think so?”

  “It’s sad.”

  “What’s sad?”

  “You’re young, so beautiful. You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “I’m not. I have you. Uncle.”

  He laughed, coughed. “We’re family, huh?”

  “In every way that counts.”

  “Listen to your uncle, then. Go find someone. But,” he added, reaching for her hand, “make sure she’s smart, otherwise you’ll lose interest.”

  “Good advice.”

  “Get out of here.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be here,” he said, his eyes drifting shut.

  The words nearly dissolved her. “You better be,” she whispered.

  32

  Jane called GaudyLights on the way out of the hospital. She’d called before she left the house, but the line just rang and rang. This time, a recording announced that the club would be closed due to the death of Vince Bessetti, the owner. The sexy voice invited her to check back tomorrow, when the club would return to normal business hours. So much for mourning the dead.

  Feeling at loose ends, and more than puzzled that Avi hadn’t returned any of her calls or texts, Jane drove across town, all along the way trying out various scenarios. Avi was under the weather and didn’t want to talk. Her phone was out of juice and she didn’t know it. She had a cold so bad that she’d lost her voice. None of the explanations satisfied.

  Finding a lucky parking space on the opposite side of the street from Avi’s apartment building, Jane could see from her car that Avi’s unit was lit from one end to the other. Shadows thrown against the shades told her that she was home, and that she wasn’t alone.

  Dodging patches of ice as she dashed across the street, Jane bounded up to the steps to the front door just as a young man emerged from the building. Seeing the keys in her hand, he held the door open.

  “Thanks,” she said, amazed at her good luck.

  “You betcha,” he responded.

  “Yah sure,” she whispered, taking the stairs two at a time. She listened at Avi’s front door for a few seconds before knocking. When the door was pulled back, Avi’s startled face greeted her.

  “Jane.”

  At least she hadn’t forgotten her name.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Ah, okay.” She didn’t sound—or look—too thrilled.

  Stepping inside, Jane saw Jason Dorsey sprawled on the couch, about to light up a joint. On the table in front of him was a half-empty bottle of Bombay Sapphire, a nearly full bottle of SKYY Ginger vodka, and a ceramic bowl filled with several dozen pills of various sizes, shapes, and colors.

  “Join the party,” said Dorsey, sucking in a lungful of smoke. He held it in, a silly grin on his face.

  “You didn’t return any of my calls,” Jane said to Avi.

  “No, I didn’t, did I.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  Out from the bedroom walked Georgia, dressed in a sheer lace minirobe, a black thong, a minimal black lace pushup bra, and fluffy white slippers. She was cradling a small dog in her arms. “Well, the marines have landed,” she said, grinning at Jane. “Long time no see, gorgeous.”

  Jane blinked at Avi. Her first response—What the hell is that woman doing in your bedroom?—must have been written all over her face.

  Avi smiled but said nothing.

  Beginning to get the picture, Jane said, “What did Georgia tell you?”

  “I don’t kiss and tell,” muttered Georgia, her pout about as fake as her breasts. She looked older and less glamorous out of the dim light. She came into the living room and made herself comfortable on one of the chairs, crossing her legs and dropping the dog to the floor.

  “You didn’t tell?” asked Jane. In one corner of the room, she noticed a suitcase with the name Dietrich on it.

  “Tell what?” asked Avi.

  “Look, can we talk? Alone?”

  “Want a drink?” asked Georgia. She poured herself an inch of the vodka.

  The dog scampered over to Jane and stood up on her hind legs, pawing at her jeans.

  “She likes you,” said Georgia.

  “She?”

  “Gimlet,” said Dorsey. “She’s a poodle puppy.”

  “I can see that,” said Jane. The dog was all black curls and eager eyes.

  “You could give a dog a good home,” said Avi.

  “I could?”

  “You already have a dog. Another one wouldn’t be a big deal.”

  “But,” said Dorsey, coughing out smoke, “I mean, I thought she could stay here for, like, a little while longer.”

  “You know I could get tossed out if the super finds her in here,” said Avi, hands rising to her hips. “You might be willing to risk getting tossed out, but I’m not.”

  Taking another toke, Dorsey said, by way of explanation, “The super just busted me. Said if I didn’t get rid of her he’d get rid of me.”

  “She needs a good home,” said Georgia. “How can you look into those deep brown eyes and refuse to help?”

  Jane crouched down and picked
the dog up. She seemed bright, sweet. Her sharp little puppy teeth gnawed gently on Jane’s knuckle. She couldn’t have been more than ten pounds, if that. “How old is she?”

  “The vet thought about four months.” Dorsey tapped ash into a Coke can. “She’s starting to lose her baby teeth. I found one in a chew toy last week. She has a hearing problem. I think that’s why she was dumped.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” said Jane. The dog certainly was adorable. Then again, taking a new critter into her life wasn’t something she should do without careful consideration.

  “She’s house trained,” said Avi.

  “Do you really want me to take her?”

  “Why not? Yes, I do. As a favor to me.”

  Everyone in the room was staring at her. “Well, okay. Sure,” she said. She set Gimlet down and watched her scamper over to Dorsey. If the dog didn’t work out, she could always find her a different home.

  “It’s not like I want to give her up,” said Dorsey, cuddling her in his arms. His lips trembled, and for a moment he looked as if he might cry. “I love the little runt, you know? Hard not to.”

  Jane stood up and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. With everyone’s attention drawn to Dorsey, she moved closer to Avi. “Come on, talk to me.”

  “This really isn’t a good time,” said Avi. “You can see that I have company.”

  “I know, but like I said, you haven’t returned any of my calls.”

  “Don’t mind us,” said Georgia, poking a finger through the pills in the bowl. “We can entertain ourselves.”

  “Out in the hall?” asked Jane, nodding to the door.

  Reluctantly, Avi followed her.

  Trying to act nonchalant, Jane closed the door softly and then said, “What’s up with Georgia? Does she always dress like that when she’s at your place? And, I mean, what’s she doing in your bedroom?”

  Avi shrugged. “Her boyfriend kicked her out. She needed a place to stay, so I offered my couch—until she can get set up somewhere else. It’s hard for her with work and law school. She doesn’t have much free time.”

  Jane thought she looked like a woman with a great deal of free time. She also assumed that the suitcase in the living room belonged to Georgia. “Can we sit on the stairs?”

  “I’d rather stand.”

  The coldness in her manner left Jane at a loss. “Did I do something to upset you?”

  “Upset me? Let’s see, whatever could that be?”

  “I must have. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything I can to make … whatever it is right.”

  “Just stop, okay. I’m not a complete fool.”

  “If you could just tell me—”

  “Oh, that’s marvelous. Stop acting. We both know why you’re here. Why you wheedled your way into my life.”

  “I’m here because I thought we were—”

  “I thought we were, too,” said Avi. “You’re good, I’ll give you that. Problem is, you have no idea what the real story is.”

  “What story?” asked Jane, touching her arm.

  Avi shook her hand off. “Come in and get the dog, and then get the hell out of my life.” Turning away, she hesitated. “Just tell me one thing. Are you going to turn me in?”

  “Avi, listen to me, please. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Her back stiffened. “All right, if that’s the way you want to play it, I can’t stop you. But you’re making a mistake. A big one. You think you know what’s going on, but you’ve got it all wrong, Jane. Maybe to you I seem like I’m the bad guy, but I’m not. I’m the victim.”

  33

  Less than a minute after Gimlet appeared in his life, Mouse was in love. The two dogs chased each other all over the house, up and down the stairs, through the kitchen to the rear hall, through the living room into the dining room and back to the kitchen. Then they’d start all over again. At this rate, Jane would never need to take Mouse out for another walk. If he didn’t have a heart attack from trying to keep up with a puppy, he’d be in great shape simply from playing.

  For the moment, as Jane sat at the desk in her study, Mouse was lying on his back in one of his beds—now his and Gimlet’s—his feet stuck in the air, with Gimlet licking his ears, his eyes, his mouth. He was in heaven, and so, it would seem, was Gimlet. There was no way Jane could ever hope to separate the two of them. Thus Gimlet was officially a new member of the family.

  Returning her attention to the computer screen, Jane continued to search the William Mitchell College of Law Web site, looking for a student directory. When she finally located one, she couldn’t get into it without a username and a password. Frustrated, she called her father’s paralegal, Norm Toscalia, and was put through to his voice mail. She asked, as she had many times before, for his help. She was trying to verify that a woman named Georgia Dietrich was a student at the college. Jane suspected that her law school story was a bunch of baloney. Still reeling from her conversation with Avi, Jane was determined to prove that Georgia was a liar and a fake. That didn’t mean Avi would fall into her arms and swear undying devotion, but hopefully it would, at the very least, help her understand that Jane was on her side. She thanked Norm for his help and said that if he was able to find anything, he should call her back on her cell.

  What mystified Jane most about Avi was that she seemed to think Jane was about to turn her over to the police—if she’d read Avi’s rather terse comments correctly. Why Jane would want to do that was a mystery. She figured she’d give it a few days, and then, perhaps when Avi had calmed down a bit, she would contact her again. After so many abortive attempts at romance, it astonished Jane how quickly she’d fallen for Avi—and how hard that fall had been. If, after a respectable period of time, Avi blew her off again, that would be the end of it. It wasn’t a decision that would go down easily, but Jane would have to accept it, though she refused to let Avi go without one hell of a fight. She was, to put it succinctly, over the moon about her and wasn’t likely to fall back to earth anytime soon.

  Inwardly aching and feeling more than a little lost, Jane walked back to the kitchen, both dogs at her heels. She was pouring herself a final cup of coffee before she hit the theater when her landline rang. Checking the caller ID, she saw that it was her dad.

  “Hi,” she said, holding the receiver between her shoulder and her ear. “Anything new?”

  “Your drug test came back.”

  “Good. No cocaine, right?”

  “No cocaine. But the report came back positive for amphetamines.”

  She set the cup down. “You mean like speed? Come on, I’ve never used anything like that in my life.”

  “It got into your system somehow.”

  “They mixed up my report with someone else. That has to be it.” Then it hit her. She had felt odd. Her mood. Her energy. She’d been so upbeat, with a strange sense of … she couldn’t think of another word but euphoria. Everything was brighter, all the women prettier, the conversations fascinating “Someone drugged me!” She was instantly furious.

  “I’m having another test run. Hopefully, we can narrow down what the actual drug was. Did you drink anything?”

  “Three Waldorfs.”

  “Who made them?”

  “The first one I ordered from a bartender I know. I’m sure it was clean. The other two were ordered while I was sitting at one of the tables. From a waitress. Actually, one of the dancers served me the second drink.”

  “Why?”

  She wasn’t about to tell him how many times Georgia had come on to her, or that she’d eventually succeeded. “I figured she was just being playful. Her name’s Georgia Dietrich.” It had to be Georgia. Did she do it to make Jane easier to seduce? Would she try to use their sexual connection as a wedge to split Jane and Avi apart? Maybe she didn’t kiss and tell, and maybe she did. But why? Most important, was being drugged at the club connected to the cocaine planted in her car?

  “I’ll have her checked out. How about the third dr
ink?”

  “The same waitress I ordered it from brought it to me. I’d never seen her before.”

  “Do you know who mixed them?”

  “Either a guy named Dorsey or the floor manager, Diamond Brown.”

  “I should have more info on the amphetamines soon,” said her dad. “Stay out of that place, you hear me?”

  “I already got the message.”

  “Did you get some sleep?”

  “I’m fine. I’m heading over to Cordelia’s new theater in a few minutes.”

  “Her what?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it when we’ve got more time.”

  “One more thing. Are you still investigating that murder?”

  She told him that she planed to stop by city hall on Monday to try one more time to talk to Kevante Taylor.

  “Wait on that, Janey.”

  “Why?”

  “For one thing, I don’t want you talking to Taylor unless I’m with you. More than that, though. We need to keep your investigation and this drug arrest separate—at least in the minds of the police.”

  “I don’t think they are separate.”

  “I don’t either.” He paused. “I’ll be in touch.”

  * * *

  Before leaving the house, Jane gave Mouse a stern talk, instructing him that he was in charge of Gimlet when she was gone. She gave them each a treat, kissed their heads, and then left through the back door—the quickest route to the garage. For the first time since Mouse had come into her life, she didn’t feel guilty about leaving him. He wasn’t alone anymore. Like her, he’d fallen in love.

  Pulling up to the dark theater shortly after nine, Jane dashed across the street and was met in the lobby by a woman in a fur coat.

  “Hi, there,” said the woman. “I’m Cordelia’s real estate agent, Amanda Brooks. You must be Jane.” She smiled uncertainly.

  “That’s me.”

  “Listen, I’m running late. Cordelia and her sister are already inside. They’re … kind of intense, don’t you think?”

  “They can be.”

  She handed Jane her card. “I have another showing in twenty minutes, and I need to get across town. Just close the door when you’re done. It locks automatically. And, if you don’t mind, tell Cordelia that the seller is very motivated. Got that? Very motivated.”