Tim showed no reaction as he examined the face in the photo.
Mr. E filled the silence. “Many of whom, as you can see, are children looking for a safe place to express themselves.”
“And get a stiff drink.” Tim did not look up as he made this comment.
“Take a moment to observe my bartenders, Mr. KC, and you will see that we are conscientious here.” He held his breath a little, nervous. “I care for my guests, sir. I’m worried about them taking this new drug the Dog is bringing in.”
“MDMB?” Again, Tim did look up to see the reaction this tidbit of knowledge would get.
Mr. E was shocked, “You’ve heard of it?”
“I’ve heard it’s extremely unstable, dangerous for children of any age.” He slid the Dog’s picture into his own back pocket. “I admire your desire to keep it out of your club.”
Mr. E smiled. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a thin envelope. “As you requested, large bills.”
The KC slipped the package from his fingers and tucked it away so quickly the man dressed as a magician couldn’t see where his money had gone. Then he turned to slip away into the crowd.
“Wait.” Mr. E was curious. “Why don’t you hide your face?”
Tim spoke over his shoulder. “Good men are scared at these kinds of meetings. Scared men are thinking more of themselves than the person with whom they’re doing business.”
“And bad men?”
“Bad men don’t care that they’ve asked me to kill. And if I find you’re a bad man, you’ll find you’ve paid for your own funeral.”
Five
Mr. E tried to follow the Killer on Call as he left but the blond man blended quickly into the crowd and Mr. E found himself confused that he couldn’t clearly remember the killer’s features. He stood, hat in hand, trying to remember the color of his eyes.
A lithe little woman in 1920s regalia including a sparkling headband over her sharp blond pixie cut stepped out of the shadows and walked towards him. She stopped at his shoulder, looking away into the crowd. “And?” she murmured.
“He’s taken the commission.” Mr. E looked down at his hat.
“As I said.”
“His reputation though.”
“No one is so pure. He’ll take the money. Like any other man.”
Mr. E looked at the woman for a moment. “It seems so cheap.”
“Because,” she hissed at him and he looked away, “he only kills bad guys.”
“They say he doesn’t like liars.”
She held up one gloved arm and tilted her enormous ruby into the dance floor lights, bathing everybody nearby in red sparkles. “Then show me who threatened you and I’ll take care of him myself.”
He pulled a small bag of what looked like sparkly lollypop rings from one of the giant pockets of his coat. “No Vanessa. I can handle this.”
“I hope you’re right.” She glanced at him through lowered eyelashes and pat his bum as she walked away saying, “Now back to work. These kids need their fun time.”
Six
A group of five performers were just taking the stage when Tim returned to Kissy’s side with no Manhattan.
“Not so thirsty after all?” she asked, confused.
Tim laughed. His gray eyes sparkling in the lights as he slipped an arm around her waist, searching the faces in the crowd. “I got into a conversation with an old friend and I didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten you.”
“Just my drink.” She raised an eyebrow at him.
He started to slide away but she held him close. “You don’t need to get me drunk,” she said seductively. “I don’t get stage fright.”
He glanced at her and laughed, then went back to scanning the room.
Kissy pouted a little, wondering at her usually effective powers of persuasion. But then the loudspeaker announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, the GinNTonix” and the quintet began singing. Suddenly the entire room was riveted toward the stage. The group sang and it sounded like a thirty-piece choir with a rhythm section. Kissy forgot about the confusing boy at her side for a moment. She was taken with their musicality, with the depths of the bass singer and the speed of the percussionist’s tongue. The short blond guy with a cherubic face cut through the rhythm with the highest, purist note Kissy had ever heard come out of a man’s throat. The rest of the group cut out and you could have heard a pin drop in the warehouse. Then the percussionist picked the rhythm up again and the song went on. The crowd went wild, Kissy along with them. Even Tim seemed electrified by the performers. Kissy leaned over to him, reaching a hand up through his hair.
“That tenor looks a little like you.”
Tim glanced away from the group. “Really? I’d think you’d be attracted to the bass.”
Kissy looked back. The bass was a tall black man gracious enough to wear a tight grey Henley shirt over an impressively muscular chest. He was swapping goofy looks with the one woman in the group which just made him more attractive. As the song ended the warehouse cheered wildly and begged for an encore.
Kissy turned back to Tim as she applauded. “He’s okay.”
“You should go say hi,” Tim replied. “Performer to performer.”
Kissy squinted at him, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. But she’d been accused of being argumentative on dates in the past, so she hopped up from her chair and pushed past Tim to where the quintet were edging their way through the congratulatory crowd after having scooped up their “hail.”
Being a flexible girl was helpful in these situations. She simply ducked under arms, squeezed between torsos and planted herself in the bass singer’s way. When he turned, he nearly knocked her down. The perfect start to a longer than polite conversation.
“Whoa, excuse me.” He reached out with some very nice arms and steadied Kissy.
“Oh my god, your voice really is that low.”
He ducked his head. “I should have sucked more helium as a child.”
Another woman tried to break into the conversation. Kissy stuck her hand out, body-blocking the intruder in the process. “I’m Kissy.”
“Kissable?” He leaned down, wondering if he’d heard her correctly.
“So it’s said.”
He smiled, took her hand in his, and she knew she had him. Much easier than Tim.
“My name’s Avi. Can I buy you a drink?”
And suddenly Tim was there at their elbows. “I’ll get you both a drink. Fabulous performance, Avi.”
The singer looked confused until Kissy explained. “Tim, this is Avi. Avi, this is Tim, my best friend’s brother who brought me here, in this dress, on a motorcycle.”
“Nice to meet you, Avi. Whoops!” This last Tim said as he fell into the big man, knocking him so hard, Kissy almost got crushed. “Sorry. I’ll go get those drinks. Meet you at our table.”
Avi and Kissy both watched him leave.
After a moment, Avi asked, “He knows he’s not walking toward the bars, right?”
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t count on him if you’re really thirsty.”
The man held up a bottle of Newcastle. Kissy laughed.
Seven
Kissy led Avi back to her little table which hadn’t been taken simply due to the fact that the next performers up were a remix swing band and every available space had turned into a dance floor.
Avi helped Kissy hop up into the tall chair and pulled the second chair around the table to sit beside her. “I haven’t seen you here before.”
She smirked as he cringed at hearing the line come out of his own mouth. “I’d heard about it, but Tim had the address. How did you find out about it?”
“Our old composer was approached after a gig we did at the Koffe Shack out on the beach.”
“Hey, I’ve played there.”
“Nice owners, right?” He smiled. “Good food.”
“Oddly crappy coffee.”
“If you can’t spell it, I don’t expect you to be abl
e to make it.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “That’s a bit elitist.”
Avi shrugged. “I’m a cop. We notice patterns.”
She grimaced. “So you’ve been to the “D-O-Knut Hut.”
He nodded grimly then squinted at her. “Hey, is that a cop joke?”
Kissy took a breath. Tim was her date. But Tim had made her meet this guy. She decided Tim could suck it. “Look at yourself, Avi. You can have as many donuts as you can arrest.”
Avi laughed so hard, he snorted. She found it charming. Tim joined them and laughed along, trying to pretend he knew what the joke was. Kissy and Avi laughed harder.
At that moment, over the applause and clink of coins in response to the swing band, a voice over the loudspeaker called for “The Red Ukulele” to report to the stage.
Kissy popped up, her onstage persona taking the fore. “Me!” She screamed, winked at the boys and skipped through the people who split to let her pass.
Avi shook off the energy of the wink. “Wow. So she’s your date and you dare to leave her alone?”
“I’m not too worried about you.” Tim set a tumbler on the table and sipped from another.
Avi turned from watching Kissy bounce off. “I’m sorry. Do we know each other?”
“You dropped this.” Tim tossed Avi’s wallet on the table. “So a cop.”
“Yeah. I’m a cop.”
“Lots of pictures of your boyfriend in there,” Tim said coolly. He slid the glass of amber liquid across the table to Avi.
Avi picked his wallet up and glanced through it casually. “My brother,” he corrected in an even deeper tone.
Tim said nothing. His silence invited Avi to continue.
“He overdosed on a club drug six months ago.”
“What drug?” Tim asked.
“A new one.” Avi wrapped a hand around the drink. “MDMB.”
“I heard you could get that here.”
Avi murmured, “I heard that too.”
“Dogs of War selling it?”
“Mr. E is making it.” Avi looked at a steel door on the far side of the stage. “Back there.”
Tim turned to look at the small, easy to overlook door. He saw Kissy performing onstage, shaking her glittering red beads. The crowd seemed to love her but Tim couldn’t hear through the buzzing in his head.
He started to ask, “Do you have a. . .” as he turned back to Avi in time to see him bringing the glass to his lips.
Eight
Tim leaped across the table and swatted the glass from Avi’s hand. For a moment all attention was pulled from Kissy’s amazing ukulele rendition of a Britney Spears medley.
Tim looked around and did some quick thinking. “I drank out of that one already.” He pointed awkwardly to his lips. “I have a cold sore.” He pointed at Kissy. “She’s amazing.”
That worked. Heads turned back to where Kissy was gyrating with her ukulele to Toxic in a big finish. She leaped into the air, flipped over, and slid out of sight. The crowd went wild and coins flew overhead to rain on Kissy. Tim recovered Avi’s glass from the floor where the wax finish was bubbling gently. He shook his hand dry as he stood to find Avi had also been distracted by Kissy’s finale.
“Splits,” the cop said admiringly, “are always a good finish.”
Tim looked over to where Kissy was pushing her way out of the crowd, change still being dropped into her uke case as she passed. “Yeah, she’s,” he chuckled, surprised, “grown up nicely.”
He turned back to Avi. He reached out a hand, noticing just a second late that his pinkie nail was bright blue. “It’s been nice meeting you, Avi. Keep up the good work.”
Avi shook his hand with furrowed brows. “What’s your interest in. . .”
Tim cut him off, “I’ll go get you a fresh drink.”
“I have a beer.” Avi said this to Tim’s back as the strangely geeky man strode away to grab Kissy and spin her out of the crowd.
He kissed her firmly and passionately, holding her tightly against him. The partiers around them cheered. Then he released her and walked away to the bar without another word. Kissy watched him for a startled second and then made her way through the congratulations to her seat at the tall table. Avi stood as she hopped up. They sat in silence for a moment as the next performance, a 1950s style plate spinner started up. After a bit Avi looked over to see if Kissy knew what had just happened and realized he hadn’t really seen her act.
“I look forward to seeing you perform sometime without your best friend’s brother around,” he said apologetically. “That ending was gangbusters.”
She slowly turned toward him, a smile spreading across her face. “I claim no responsibility for Tim’s actions. And I would love to play with you, I mean for you. . . no, no, I’d love to play with you sometime.”
And the smile spread across Avi’s face as well.
“Now,” Kissy added, “what do you think the chances are that he’s gonna bring me a drink this time?”
Nine
Tim brushed past a stunning woman in flapper gear as he left Kissy. He apologized to her with a small bow. She smiled vacantly at him. He set the two empty glasses on the same table he’d stolen them from as he passed by searching the crowd for Mr. E’s red top hat. An awful lot of people, boys and girls alike, were wearing garish giant plastic gem rings. He realized they were lollipops as he saw a couple sucking on each others’ rings. So someone was selling the ecstasy offshoot and someone else was making a profit on the sucking instinct that went along with the drug’s happy high.
He spotted the red top hat near the door Avi had pointed out and headed for it, pulling the envelope of cash out of the secret waistband pocket in his jeans. Mr. E was deep in conversation with a lanky ginger haired boy with a beat up guitar strung over his shoulder. Tim made sure to shove gently when he pushed him out of the way.
“Save your money for a new guitar, Weasly.” He looked into the boy’s eyes, daring him to fight back.
The kid wisely turned tail and made for the entrance of the warehouse. Tim gave Mr. E a moment to stew, wondering if he too might run. Then he turned his ice gray gaze on the drug dealer who had hired him to kill a cop just looking for justice for his kid brother. Sure, he knew clients lied. His prices were very attractive even to those who could afford better. That was one reason he always double-checked the information they gave him. But for this guy to offer up such an easy to see through lie was ridiculous. Clearly, Tim’s Killer with a Conscience persona needed to be beefed up. He couldn’t have his time hijacked by this kind of scum.
Although, the evening hadn’t been an entire waste. Kissy turned out to be a nice surprise. She had indeed grown up nicely. Nice curves. Nice talents. Nice lips.
Tim refocused on the now shaking Mr. E. He whipped out a hand and swiped the hat from his head. He held the envelope up and dropped it inside. He secured the envelope with elastic strung along the sides of the hat and carefully placed it back on the loser’s head. He then used the hat to pull him close.
“What do you think KC stands for?” Tim asked quietly.
Mr. E’s voice broke as he answered, “Killer on Call.”
“What the f-” Tim took a deep breath. “Killer with a Conscience. I don’t kill good guys.”
“You gave the money back,” the terrified man whimpered, begging. “You’re not gonna take it as payment for. . .” He swallowed, looking around for help, “for me?”
Tim smiled. He really didn’t like this part, but he’d seen what great things reformed assholes could do.
“As long as you can afford to pay me, I’ll keep you on my to do list.”
“Does that mean you are going to kill me?” Mr. E asked.
Tim shook his head, unable to believe this guy was a successful drug dealer. “It means maybe,” he said. “I’d be more worried about the cops. And killing kids just looking to have a good time.”
“Not that many.”
“What?” Tim thought he must
have misheard.
“Only a couple of people have died,” Mr. E repeated, defensively.
Tim considered buying the man a drink right then and there. But no, he had to let Mr. E spread the word that he’d tried to hire the KC before he killed the slime. No good for the rep killing a client without anyone knowing about it. Anyway, with any luck Avi would lose his cool and shoot the bastard in the line of duty.
He loosed his grip on the hat and let Mr. E ease back far enough to see him clearly. “You’ll want to remember this face.”
He stood quietly for several moments staring into Mr. E’s eyes like a lover. And then he waited a few more moments for Mr. E to get truly scared. “I want you to recognize me when I see you again.” Tim took the carnation from Mr. E’s buttonhole just to be petty. He walked away, straight to the Greek doorman and the exit.
Ten
The woman with the sexy pixie cut and blinding jewels slipped into the vacuum left when the KC left her lover swaying on his feet. “Is it done?”
Mr. E took off his hat and ran a hand over his sweating pate. “No. He cancelled the contract.” He pulled the envelope out and checked the contents. “Gave me all the money back.”
Vanessa moved Mr. E further back, away from the heart of the crowd. She hissed at him, “Put that away.”
“He’s going to kill me.” Mr. E looked up at her with pleading eyes. “He’s going to kill me.”
She looked at him with searing disappointment. “I made contingency plans.”
She peeled the rings off her gloved fingers and dropped them in his hat. Next, she removed the waterfall of crystal strung about her neck and led it slide into the silk.
“Just go about your business, my love. Be visible. Perhaps you could personally announce some performers.” She took the glittering headband from her brow and slipped that as well into the top hat. “And I’ll take care of this little thorn in our side. Don’t worry, dear. I would never let anyone else hurt you.”
“Yes, Vanessa.”
Killer on Call 6 Book Bundle (Books 1-6) Page 2
