She seemed hesitant, but then squared her shoulders as she walked over and sat in a side chair. “What’s going on? Why did Garth bring me here and tell me to stay put?”
“The guy who’s been watching you in the bar is a private eye hired by someone with deep pockets to find you. I’ve slowed them down, but it’s only a matter of time.” She went to say something, but I put up a hand to stop her. “And before you decide to run—they’ll find you.”
Her face scrunched in frustration, but after a minute of thinking out the situation, she bobbed her agreement.
“Tell me what’s going on. I can help. If it’s something over my head, I have the resources and connections to hire assistance.”
“She’s not exaggerating,” Baker said, casually leaning back into the deep couch. “She’s rich. She’s connected. And she’s street smart. If my ass was in trouble, I’d call either her or her cousin.”
“Which of us would you call first?”
He turned his head to look at me. “Your cousin.”
“Traitor,” I mumbled to him before looking back at Evie. “Genevieve, come clean. What’s this all about?”
She seemed startled by the use of her real name. “How much do you know about me?”
“I know your name, that you’re from Georgia, and I have your prior employment and education information. What I don’t know is why Genevieve Lawrence dropped off the face of the planet, only to emerge in Miami as Evie Lawry.”
“This wasn’t part of the plan,” she said as she stood. “I came to Miami to figure out what he was up to and take the information to the police, but when I got here…” She wrung her hands. “What was I thinking? I’m an accountant from Georgia. What do I know about gathering evidence on a criminal?”
“Wait—” I held up a hand. “You came here with the intention of going after a bad guy?” I rubbed my hand across my forehead, frustrated with how naïve Evie had been. “Go back to the beginning. Who is this guy?”
“I only know the name he gave me: Xander Hall. I met him in a bar and hit it off. We dated whenever he was in Atlanta for business.”
“How long did you date?”
“Almost a year,” she said, sighing as she sat again.
“What went wrong?”
“Nothing really went wrong. The entire time we were dating, though, there were these little red flags that kept popping up, warning me to keep my distance.”
“Give us an example,” Baker said.
“Just shady behavior. Like sometimes he’d say he was one place, then later say he was somewhere else at the same time. Like he was lying and his cover story kept changing.”
“What else?” I asked.
“Two phones. Late night calls. He’d leave the room to talk, saying it was business. Flashing cash. No regular work schedule, but he could afford expensive things.”
“You just described me,” Baker said with a smirk.
Evie shook her head. “Anyone who knows you, knows you work non-stop to afford your lifestyle. No, this was different. This was…”
“Shady,” I said, nodding. “I get the picture. Then what happened?”
“I loved him. Or at least I tried to convince myself I did because he treated me like a queen. Designer clothes. Fancy restaurants. Chauffeured car services. And, I’m ashamed to say, I liked life on that side of the tracks. I didn’t want to return to a life of budgeting my money and driving around for thirty minutes to find a parking spot. Eventually, though, self-preservation forced me to start looking into what kind of man he was. And the more I dug, the worse it looked.”
She stood again and started to pace.
“He didn’t have any friends or even any business contacts in Atlanta as far as I could tell. He always carried cash, so I didn’t know his real name, other than the name he gave me of Xander Hall.”
“But that’s not his name?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I bribed someone from human resources at work to run a search on the name, nothing came up. Nothing at all. Wherever we went, though, his driver Colby Brown always traveled with us, so I had his name run. He had a criminal record. Assault. Robbery. Extortion. I should’ve broken things off then, but by then I was scared. I had to find out who he was.”
“What did you do?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.
“I planted a recorder in the den where he took his private calls. And the next day when I listened to the one-sided conversation, I knew I had to run.”
“What was the conversation about?”
“It was one sided, so it was just fractured pieces to a puzzle. Young girls. Prostitutes, I think. A dentist office. Cuba. Wire transfer. Miami.”
Baker leaned his head back on the couch cushion and pinched the bridge of his nose. “None of that sounds good.”
“Anything else?”
She thought for a moment, staring at the coffee table as she did. “Yeah, something. But I couldn’t make sense of it. Something about hoping Mickey doesn’t figure it out.”
“Shit,” Baker said as he stood. “We need to get her out of town.”
The towel of ice I’d been holding against my knee started dripping so I walked to the kitchen and tossed the towel into the sink. “Stay here,” I said to Evie when I returned. “Let me poke around.”
“It’s not safe to keep her in Miami,” Baker argued. “Mickey owns this town.”
“Mickey doesn’t own me. And I’m not scared of him.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Kelsey’s even smart enough to keep him at a certain distance.”
“Whether Mickey’s involved or not, it’s not safe to move Evie in a rush. If we need to get her out of town, arrangements need to be made. That takes time. For now, the three of us and Garth are the only ones who know about this place, so she’s safe. Just give me a few days.”
I walked over to my purse and dug out my phone. Returning to the living room, I showed Evie the still image Pimples had sent me of the guy renting a car. “Recognize him?”
Evie studied the picture. “I can’t see the guy’s face, but he doesn’t seem familiar. Who is he?”
“He’s the guy who attacked me earlier, but it’s likely he’s related to another case. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t your ex.”
“It’s not Xander or his driver Colby. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t someone Xander hired. I only know Colby, but Xander was constantly on the phone ordering people around.”
“Do you still have the voice recording?”
“Sort of.” She looked guiltily at Baker. “I hid the mini recorder behind the brandy glasses at the bar. Figured it was safer there than in my apartment.”
“I have a safe in my office, you know,” Baker said, rolling his eyes.
“I’ll head to the bar and make a copy. I’ll move the original to my office.” I walked toward the door and gathered my purse. “Don’t go anywhere. If you need something, call Baker or Garth.”
“Umm…” she said, looking between Baker and me. “I sort of need some feminine products.”
“I’m not buying tampons,” Baker said matter-of-factly. “No way. Not happening.”
I raised an eyebrow at Baker. “How about I go buy the tampons and you go talk to Benny The Barber?”
His head swiveled my way. “Are you insane?”
“Which is it? Tampons or Benny? I can’t do everything.”
He grumbled a few curse words under his breath. “I’ll buy the damn tampons!”
Chapter Fourteen
CHARLIE
Sunday, 9:18 p.m.
After stopping at The Outer Layer to copy and listen to Evie’s audio file, I hid the original recorder in the safe in my office. I grabbed a pair of jeans and a baby-blue t-shirt from the closet, and carried them into my private bathroom to shower for the fourth time today.
Ten minutes later, I left feeling more myself, my bruises coated under several layers of make-up, my hair pulled into a loose pony-tail,
and comfortable running shoes laced to my feet. I’d left the bloodstained linen pants and ballet shoes lying on the floor, imagining Baker’s cleaning person flipping out the next time he sent someone in to clean. Maybe he’d learn his lesson. Then again, it was a sex club. Maybe the person cleaning wouldn’t even notice.
I drove south to Benny’s barbershop. Benny The Barber was well known for his skills. Not hair cutting skills, though I’d heard he was a decent barber, but his skills as a hitman were well known to law enforcement and criminals alike. Long range shots used to be his specialty, but word on the street was his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. Benny wasn’t the type to take early retirement though. I was confident he’d been keeping busy with point-and-shoot, knifings, and the make-it-look-like-an-accident jobs.
Nailing Benny’s ass and sending him to prison would make a lot of people happy, including me. But Benny was skilled enough that, even though everyone knew he was a hitman, the police couldn’t pin a single crime on him. As far as the good guys could tell, Benny didn’t take trophies. He didn’t leave calling cards. He changed his MO regularly. He didn’t leave witnesses. He didn’t leave trace evidence—ever. And he’d been in the game for at least forty years.
It took a certain personality to be able to do that type of work. The type of personality that was often described using labels such as sociopath, anti-social personality disorder, or psychotic. And for that reason, I took a few extra minutes in my car, breathing in and out, to settle my pulse before I climbed out and walked toward the barbershop’s front entrance.
I wasn’t surprised to find the lights on in the barbershop, nor the doors unlocked. Benny kept odd hours, even on Sundays. I was surprised to be greeted just inside the door by Mickey McNabe’s right- and left-hand bodyguards, and even more surprised to see Mickey himself getting a straight-razor shave from Benny.
“Let her through,” Benny called out to Mickey’s goons.
The bodyguards held their position, preventing me from moving further into the shop.
“It’s fine,” Mickey said as Benny handed him a warm towel and adjusted Mickey’s chair to a sitting position. Mickey wiped the shaving cream off his face as he watched me approach.
I walked past them, choosing an empty swivel chair on the other side of the aisle, keeping the mirrors to my back and everyone within my line of sight.
A slight curve of Mickey’s lips was the only change in his expression. His eyes remained cold, dark, distant.
Benny’s eyes, on the other hand, held a level of curiosity. He scanned me with those eyes, looking for something. It wasn’t a sexual look. It was… something else. Like how Uncle Hank had scanned me for bullet wounds earlier in the day, except unlike Uncle Hank, Benny didn’t seem worried for my wellbeing. He seemed… surprised.
“I’m supposed to be dead, aren’t I?” I asked Benny.
Mickey’s eyes narrowed. He used his foot to swivel the chair a few degrees, shifting so Benny was no longer behind him.
Benny shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. The way you and your cousin stick your noses in everyone’s business, doesn’t surprise me to see someone got a piece of you.”
“Is that a threat? Or are you trying to tell me something?”
Benny turned toward the counter and started cleaning the straight razor. “You should be holding a fresh steak to your eyes. Helps with the swelling and discoloration.”
“Who is she?” Mickey asked Benny but kept his steely dark eyes pinned on me.
Benny dipped the straight blade razor into the alcohol solution a few more times before answering. “Kelsey Harrison’s cousin, Charlie Harrison. A cop. Goes by the name Kid.”
The crook of Mickey’s lips curved into almost smirk level. “Kid Harrison?” Mickey asked, looking me up and down. His eyes lingered a little too long on the deep v-cut of my sleeveless blouse.
“You can call me Detective Harrison. Only my friends call me Kid.”
“Maybe we should be friends then,” Mickey said, raising his eyes to mine.
I held his stare as I responded with conviction. “I’d rather shoot you than be friends with you.”
He displayed no outward change in his demeanor. He continued to study me until the bells on the barbershop doors rang. We all looked over to see Spence walk through. He stopped and lifted his hands to be frisked by the guards. Once he received the nod to proceed, he started walking our way. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me sitting in the chair.
“What the hell happened to your face? Did you get hit by a car?”
“I’m fine.” I raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”
Spence shook his head and pulled a familiar envelope from his back pocket, handing it to Mickey. “That’s the rest of it. Appreciate the loan, man.”
“I told you, I’m not worried about the cash. We can work out a trade,” Mickey said, offering the envelope back.
“Nah. Thanks for the offer, but you know me. I don’t like owing anyone.”
Mickey inclined his head before sliding the envelope inside his jacket pocket unopened. “If you change your mind, you know how to find me.”
Spence looked at Mickey, then Benny, then over his shoulder at me. “Everything cool here?” Spence asked me.
“Yes.”
“You staying long?”
“No.”
He seemed undecided on whether to stay or go. “I’ll wait outside for you. I’d like to ask you a few questions about that odd phone call from earlier.”
I tipped my head at Spence before turning my attention back to Benny who was leaning casually against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.
I waited until I heard the bells on the door again, followed by the whoosh of the door swinging closed. “What do you know?”
Benny shrugged. “I know lots of stuff. Like how there was a ruckus in your building last night.”
“Anything about that ruckus I should know?”
“Probably be good if you knew it wasn’t me. Not that it matters much. If there was any evidence, it won’t tie back to me. And if there wasn’t any evidence—” he shrugged again “—still wasn’t me. If that’s why you’re here, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
Benny would never give up his clients’ names, but him coming straight to the point about not being involved in the murders in my building told me someone had approached him.
Mickey stood and turned to face Benny. With a light hand on the old man’s shoulder, he steered him toward the chair he had just vacated and nudged him to sit. Then Mickey moved two chairs away where his back would be in the corner and sat again. Everything about his movements screamed power, control, dominance.
When Mickey caught me watching him, I shifted my attention back to Benny. “Anything else I should know—or not know—about your involvement?”
Benny rubbed his chin, thinking out what he’d say next. “Maybe you should know not to look too close for the person who gave Pauly a gun. That person likely didn’t know that one thing was connected to another, or he would’ve had his friend relocate until things settled.”
For the first time in all the years I’d known Benny, he showed emotion. Not much, but a glimpse. He knew Pauly. He liked Pauly. They were friends. For people like Benny, friends were hard to come by.
“The gun is already in the evidence locker, but as long as the forensic examination doesn’t come back with a match to another crime,” I shrugged, delaying my agreement, “we could consider ending our inquiries.”
“The gun will come back clean.”
“And the reason Pauly wanted a gun?”
“Said someone was watching him. Wouldn’t say who or where.”
“Am I the reason Pauly’s dead? Was I the target?”
Benny shook his head. “Got no bones about taking a good job for fair pay, but some work isn’t worth the hassle. Combine you living in the building with a sketchy client, any halfway decent bastard would take a pass. But you weren’t the target. No
t for that job at least.”
“But I’m the target for another job?”
Mickey leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees as he silently listened.
Benny glanced sideways at Mickey, then back at me. “For Kelsey’s sake—not yours,” he pointed at me, “I’ll admit the shit that happened in your building wasn’t the only job I heard about.”
The guy who was tailing me, I thought.
“A hornet’s nest got kicked,” Benny said, his eyes cold and dispassionate. “I don’t know who did the kicking or the why behind it, but you’d be smart to get out of town for a spell.”
His warning was clear. Whoever was behind having me tailed earlier meant business. And they were powerful enough that Benny was trying hard to stay out of it.
“I have a picture.” I selected the grainy photo of the man who’d followed me earlier and turned the phone toward Benny as I stood and walked closer.
“Don’t know him,” Benny said without looking at the photo.
Mickey stood, pulled a gun, and held it to Benny’s temple. “And now?”
Benny’s eyes flickered in anger toward Mickey, but then he glanced at the photo. “Doesn’t look familiar, but it’s a shitty picture and the guy has his face turned away from the camera.”
“It might be a shitty picture, but does it look like the guy you talked to? Same build? Anything?” I continued to hold the picture in front of him.
“No. The guy I talked to was scrawny. Nothing more than a middleman. As soon as the name Harrison was mentioned, I told him to leave.” Benny’s cold eyes let me know he was done talking.
I turned the phone toward Mickey. “How about you? Recognize him?”
He took the phone and studied the picture. “No. But it could be anyone. Do you have a better picture?”
“This is it for now.”
Mickey motioned to his bodyguards to join us. He held the phone up for them to view and they shook their heads that they didn’t recognize the man.
I took the phone back, tucking it into my back pocket. “One last question,” I said looking directly at Benny. “Hear anything about a woman named Evie? Or a woman named Genevieve?”
Hunt and Prey (Kelsey's Burden Series Book 8) Page 8
