by Nancy Gideon
He was giving her an hour.
“Sorry I couldn’t help you out with the light. Maybe you could do me a favor.” She cocked her hip and shoulders into a suggestive pose in case anyone was watching, then asked softly, “Run some IDs for me.”
His tired eyes brightened. “Something to do with the case?”
“Don’t know yet.” She repeated the names Amber had given her, and at the last moment added Monica Fraser’s to it. “That info is for my eyes only.”
“Introduce me to your friend.”
Cee Cee took a startled step back at the unfamiliar voice. Schoenbaum jerked his head toward the other man. “Silas MacCreedy, Charlotte Caissie. Silas’s from up Baton Rouge way. One of our vics, Shawnee Potts, has family up there. He was working the missing person case and asked if he could step in with us.”
Cee Cee gave their fellow cop a shrewd once-over. He was a good-sized guy with close-cropped brown hair, steely eyes, and burly good looks. “We could use the company,” she told him with a nod of greeting.
“I won’t get in your way,” he answered, knowing how territorial districts were about their cases.
Stan’s shoulders heaved. “I don’t care if we invite snake handlers and Mormons in, as long as the job gets done.”
“That’s the plan,” Cee Cee agreed, and told them good night.
Breathing a sigh, she locked herself into her shabby room, kicked off her shoes, tossed the fright wig onto the dresser, then flopped down on the bed. Her head ached meanly, foiling her plan to close her eyes and shut down for a minute or two first. Finally, she took out her phone.
Two rings and an answer.
“Heya.”
“Hi. I’m calling you.”
“I noticed.”
In the silence that ticked by, all the things she wanted to say tumbled about her heart. I love you. I miss you. I want you. I wish you were here.
“You wanted to know about the killer,” he said matter-of-factly. “He was there in your club tonight. He’s been there before. Not out front as a customer, but behind the stage, behind the scenes. Someone who knows their way around. Someone the people who work there are used to seeing.
“I didn’t pick up any trace of that scent at Blutafino’s home,” he continued. “He’s not your man. But that doesn’t mean he’s not involved. If you get close to Manny, you’ll get close to who you’re looking for.”
She’d shifted automatically into professional mode, her mind spinning ahead toward her next move. “What else?”
“I wish I could tell you more, Detective. It was good to hear your voice.”
He was saying good-bye. “Max, are you still angry? You understand why you have to stay away. It would destroy my cover if anyone put the two of us together. That would be bad for both of us.”
“I’m not stupid, Detective. I got that. Was there anything else you needed to tell me?”
Over the phone wasn’t how she wanted to ask about his parentage, or her strange new abilities. “I miss you, baby.”
A beat of silence. “Stay safe, Detective.”
MAX HUNG UP the phone, and sat pensively in the darkness of Jimmy’s study. Desire and anger warred for a moment, but practicality won out.
When she made up her mind to trust her heart in terms of their relationship, he’d be there for her. He couldn’t force her choices before she was ready, so he’d wait. But, when it came to her safety, he couldn’t stand aside. And wouldn’t.
He settled back into the big leather chair that was the throne from which Jimmy Legere had run his empire, from which he was now doing the same. He picked up the phone again and called Petitjohn. Closing his mind to her plea for independence, he said, “Set it up for me T-John.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Time to let Carmen know I’m ripe for courting.”
Fifteen
BABINEAU SHOWED UP with beer, and they sat in silence until the first two were almost gone. It took that long for their recent tension to ease into the remembered pattern of trust. It started where it always did, with work.
Charlotte told him what Max had said about their killer being someone familiar, not a stranger unknown to the vics.
“I think we’re closer than we realize,” she concluded, sipping her second bottle. Enthusiasm for her work filled her up, making her whole. “Now we need a way to nudge up against Manny Blu, but I’m about fifteen years past my prime where he’s concerned.”
“The waitress I plied with over easy on toast said that Blu makes his working girls get regular checks at a local clinic to make sure they’re clean. Judith Farraday— Dr. Judy, they call her—is something of a saint, a psychologist, mother, and best pal to them. She’d be a good source to tap. She’d know the vics, might have some insight into the latest disappearance.” Babineau added somberly, “Word has it, Kelly had an appointment with her the day she went missing. She never kept it.”
“I feel an STD coming on.”
“Be careful there. I hear she’s a smart cookie. Worked clinics in some pretty hot zones, with a nobullshit bedside manner.” A pause. “And speaking of bedside manner, what’s with you and Savoie? Surprised the hell out of me to see him show up tonight. Is he going to make trouble?”
“No, he won’t. I’ll handle Max.”
“Savoie isn’t exactly an easy-to-handle guy.”
“Max is my business—just like what’s with you and Tina is your business.”
He gave her a cool look, then nodded. “Fair enough. Off-limits.”
“Has to be while this case is ongoing. Gotta stay focused, and we can’t if all the personal stuff is dragging on us.”
“Even if she and Oscar are living out at his house with him?”
That hit her like a sucker punch. Why hadn’t Max said anything? But then, she hadn’t exactly given him any time to discuss current events, had she?
“They’ll be safe there. Maybe it’s for the best. It’s all about the job, Babs. It has to be.”
The words helped her build that impenetrable wall back up around her. All she could do was hope it would hold strong and firm for the days or weeks it would take to bring the killer to justice.
That would give her time to think of what to say when the gates on River Road opened to welcome her back home. Maybe the words would just come to her when she saw Max again. If he wanted some groveling, okay, she could bend a bit. If he needed some TLC, she’d be all over that in a second.
All she knew was that the angry words they’d exchanged couldn’t escalate into silence, that cold, unforgiving silence that echoed between her parents when she was a child. Just before they split for good.
ONE THING T-JOHN could say for Max, he’d picked himself a damned fine-looking female.
Francis Petitjohn sat front and center for the nine o’clock show, enjoying every minute of it. He’d never shared his cousin’s puritan aversion to rawly displayed sexual content, and watching Detective Charlotte Caissie gyrate through a striptease was highly entertaining.
He almost didn’t recognize her beneath the bizarre Kabuki-style white face. He wouldn’t have if he wasn’t sitting so close, studying her so intently. Something about her strong, swaggering rhythm made it impossible to look away. She’d made changes to her appearance, but then who’d look past that acre of gorgeous legs and the one-two punch of tits and ass. Her hair was a stick-straight red wig. She’d used a tanner or bronzer to deepen her skin tone from creamy café au lait to rich mocha. Under the white pancake, her cheekbones looked sharp enough to chip ice, and her eyes a gun-muzzle black. Chili Pepper: a stage name fitting the act. An act he’d never have seen if he’d simply done as he was told.
Had Savoie really thought he’d follow his dictates and make contact by phone instead of in person? T-John was an up-close-and-personal kind of messenger who liked to be seen as well as heard, and it had paid off big this time. Plus, curiosity over his mission had been too hard to resist.
What was Max up to?
H
e saw recognition make the dancer pause, and her gaze flew about. Looking for Savoie, no doubt. Then she continued her routine with no less enthusiasm, making it hard to look away. Making it just plain hard.
“Mr. Petitjohn.”
He glanced up to see Carmen Blutafino wearing a shit-eating grin.
“Manny. Nice place.”
“You should have told me you were coming. I would have made you feel more welcome.” He eased into the next chair, settling his bulk with a surprising grace, noting the well-armed goons at Petitjohn’s back with a quick glance. “Here for business or pleasure?”
“Definitely the second, leaning toward the first.”
Beady eyes brightened with anticipation. “On your own behalf?”
“No.”
Greed had his chins trembling. “Jimmy would never deal with me.”
“Savoie isn’t as conservative in his tastes, shall we say.”
“I wasn’t aware that I had anything he wanted.”
T-John let his gaze linger over the voluptuous dancer. “You do now.”
That obviously surprised the corpulent man. “I thought Savoie was keeping house with some lady cop.”
T-John smiled wide with nasty insinuation. “There’s only so much one can do within the limit of the law, if you catch my meaning. He has some rather rough-edged inclinations he can’t express with her. But something about Ms. Pepper there reminds him enough of his detective to make him consider exploring those things with her. He’d be very appreciative.”
“I’d like to oblige him, but she’s not mine to bargain with.”
“Oh. Too bad.” He put his palms on the table and was halfway out of his chair before Manny gripped his elbow.
“Maybe we can work something out. I don’t deal with middlemen. No offense.”
T-John’s smile never faltered over his gritted teeth. “None taken. Be thinking about what he can do for you, and he’ll be here himself, later tonight.”
ALAIN ENTERED BLUTAFINO’S office cautiously. He’d seen Manny talking to Francis Petitjohn. Had the petty mobster blown their cover? He’d had no chance to warn Cee Cee before she went back to change her costume, so he’d have to play things by ear.
Manny Blu was smiling as he waved him into an overstuffed zebra print chair. “I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Al Babbit, Mr. Blutafino.”
“Just call me Manny. My friends do.”
“Are we going to be friends?”
“That depends on you, Al, and your influence over your lady. I have a potential business partner who’s taken a shine to her.”
“She’s not a whore, Mr. Blutafino.”
“Manny. I’m not asking her to be one. I’ve got plenty of whores. What I need is a favor. And I’m very, very generous to those who do me favors.”
Alain sat and listened to Blutafino’s proposal, an unbelievable opportunity dropped right into their laps.
But at what cost? And to whom?
When he was finished, the mobster looked to Alain Babineau and asked reasonably, “What do you want for her?”
“To work for you,” he answered smoothly. “Something here in the club, and not just a shit job.”
“Done.” He nodded toward the door. “Talk to her. All she has to do is keep him satisfied, and we’ll all get what we want.”
CEE CEE LISTENED without a change of expression as her partner laid out the new turn of events. She sat amid the crumpled wrappers of their fast-food meal and voiced the same question that was on his mind.
“What the hell is he up to?”
“Ask him.”
That got a spark behind her flat stare. “I can’t. We’ve taken a step back from each other for a while.”
Babineau snorted. “Some step back. By asking Manny to pimp you out to him? Sounds pretty hands-on to me. What’s got him so pissed off that he’d go to such extremes to get in the way of our investigation?”
“That’s not what he’s doing at all. If he was torqued, he’d just let us swing. He doesn’t need to barter with the likes of Blu. But the creep’s hot to do business with LEI.”
“Then why, if not to control you?”
“He’s using his rep to get us in close to Manny,” she concluded, not quite sure how she felt about that.
“Why would he indebt himself to that element?”
“Because it means so much to me,” she told him quietly.
“What do you want to do?”
Her features tightened, her mood toughened. “We take what he’s given us, and run with it as far as it can take us. Like I said, I can handle Savoie. Are you up for Blutafino?”
Babineau’s smile was fierce and humorless. “Oh, yeah. If this pays off, I’ll have to send Savoie a personal thank-you for making my career golden.”
“Send him flowers later. Let’s get our game plan together. I’ll worry about Savoie’s motives later.”
“CHEAP HOOD” WAS too high an assessment of Carmen Blutafino.
Max sat in his office amid the glossy furnishings, glittery accents, and endless reflections, and felt the need to wash his hands. Manny’s attempt to cover the sleaze with sophistication was as glaring a failure as his shiny suit was next to Max’s sleek charcoal gray Prada pinstripe.
But appearances weren’t everything. Blutafino was blatantly fawning, but Max didn’t mistake him for harmless. A feral savagery in the tiny dark eyes told him Blutafino would peel him like a Gulf shrimp if motivated. Max would have to be careful to see that he wasn’t.
Coming into the man’s establishment with only his driver waiting outside pegged him as either so sure of his power that he didn’t see a need for caution, or fatally stupid. As long as the man believed one or the other, Max figured he’d be relatively safe.
“I appreciate your hospitality, Carmen, inviting me into your place when I haven’t been very receptive to your offers of friendship.”
“It’s nothing, Max. Just business. You didn’t hurt my feelings.” An insincere smile spread just as the door opened.
When the two undercover detectives entered the room, Babineau was a blank slate, meeting Max’s stare with a pretended humility as he pushed Cee Cee toward him.
The sight of her cleaved Max’s tongue to the roof of his mouth.
Her long-sleeved stretchy black dress clung to her curves, leaving her shoulders and all but the top inch and a half of her legs bare. Naughty cutouts at the hip and cleavage-exposing décolletage seemed held together by the magic of thin rhinestone-studded strands. On another it might have seemed vulgar, but because it was Charlotte he couldn’t look away. Lust growled through him in a hungry wave.
The shoes were black, like the dress. Four inches of stiletto held on by a band across her toes and a buckled cuff at her ankle. Desire tore through his groin like razor blades.
“Mr. Savoie, my name is Chili Pepper.” Her voice was a deceptive purr. “I understand you want to get better acquainted.”
She held out her hand to him. He took the tips of her fingers, letting her draw him from his chair and lead him into a smaller room off the office, a room made for only one thing: quick no-frills sex, with a round bed in the center and mirrors covering every surface. And if he knew Manny, cameras behind most of them.
She turned to him once the door was closed, and she met his eyes without betraying a thing.
“Where would you like to start, Mr. Savoie?”
“Not with conversation.”
She flinched when his palm fit to that bare skin at her hip bone. Her eyes glittered dangerously with a confusion of warning and emotion. To prevent her from giving anything away, he jerked her up against him hard enough to smack the air from her lungs. She stiffened at the feel of his mouth against her ear until he whispered, “Smile for the cameras, sha. There’s a good chance you’re in the movies.”
“I’ve always wanted to be on film,” she murmured.
He leaned back to look deeply into her eyes as he cupped her face in his hand. �
�You are very beautiful. I would spoil you outrageously if you’d let me.”
Charlotte was lost in his gaze. Was he speaking to her, or to Chili? She answered as both. “I’m not used to being spoiled. Would I enjoy it?”
A slow, confident smile. “Oh, yes. But I expect to get back as much as I put into it. How would that be?”
Relaxing into the game they were playing, she trailed her fingertips over the lapels of his jacket. “This is a very nice suit. I like men in suits. I like men out of them even better.”
“And I like women of discretion. I’m involved with someone who means everything to me. Be very clear about that. What she and I share is separate from this. This is just—”
“Biology,” Cee Cee supplied. “I understand. Biology can be fun.”
His smile spread, slow and sexy. “Yes, it can. Lucrative for you and enjoyable for me.”
“Enjoyable for both of us.” She turned her head, catching his thumb in her mouth to suck on it before giving it a sharp little bite. “I’ve heard there are things men like to do, disgusting, naughty things. Are those the things you want to do with me?”
“If they are?”
“I’d like that, too.”
His teeth flashed bold and bright. Then his grip tightened, his fingers and thumb clamping onto her jaw, startling her. His expression was harsh, alarming her as he leaned in close.
“One thing you must understand. I don’t share. What’s mine is mine. I’m generous, but I’m also selfish. And I can be quite unpleasant if you need to be reminded.”
She smiled up at him. “I have a very good memory. I don’t need to be told more than once.”
He released her and stepped back, all business once again. “I’ll come for you tomorrow night.”
“I think you can count on that.” With that husky promise, she slipped back into the office and left the room. Babineau scrambled after her.
Manny Blu looked to Max expectantly.
“I want her exclusively,” he told Blutafino.
“She’s not mine.”
“I’ll be very grateful.”
