Killing Shore
Page 15
Justin finally pulled his arm free from Maddie and headed toward the bar with a laugh. After a few parting glares, his entourage followed. Probably to do some lazy shots.
Then Pepper heard that one in a million laugh. Angel Cavada! Turning, he saw Angel was standing at his side, watching. He was wearing a black suit and his hair was slicked back Desi Arnez style. He gave Pepper a bearhug.
"Mano, the Pepper I knew would have fed him that vape pen! You must be mellowing as you age, like cheese. But I'm starting to like Justin Case. You can't fake that kind of self-enthusiasm. But speaking of hey hey—" Angel took a dramatic step back. "It's Pepper and Zula Eisenhower! Oh, man."
"Nice bash, Angel," said Zula.
"Really happening," he agreed. "And girl, you—" He stepped back, shaking his head. "If I wasn't already in love… Which reminds me, Pep, I need you to meet someone special. She was just here…"
Angel went on tiptoes, searching around everywhere but couldn't spot her. "Maybe she's in the ladies. See you guys in a bit." And Angel darted off to keep the party spinning.
DJ ChilEboy's low bass twirled with higher synthesizer, like a spell. The twins were right behind Pepper talking to Maddie now, so he could overhear snatches of what they were saying.
"He's a cute one," said one twin.
"I'd climb that," said the other.
A cocktail waitress with short, spiky pink hair arrived with a tray full of mojitos, compliments of Angel Cavada. Good man. Pepper was surprised how many people he knew in the crowd. He saw Lieutenant Dwayne Hurd in a light green flowered shirt at the bar, ordering a drink with a woman at his side.
Zula had seen them too and was chuckling to herself. "You know who's with Hurd? That's Lizzie Concepcion. She almost pulled off the town manager's ears last week when he followed up about some event permits during the presidential vacation. She's Acker Smith's chief of staff…rumor is, maybe more."
Maybe Maddie hadn't been nuts when she asked him to dig into whether daddy's riches were safe from any chicanery by his faithful assistant… Pepper almost mentioned that side job to Zula but stopped himself—for some reason Zula didn't seem to be a big fan of anything about Maddie.
"Really?" he asked, instead. "Smith's so much older!"
Zula laughed. "Some women are crazy that way."
Pepper knew Hurd had gotten divorced about four months ago and word around the station was that Hurd got the worst of it, really took it on the chin and wallet by his ex. But good for him—he must be getting back out on the swingin' singles circuit? Lizzie Concepcion was peering over at the Maddie clique and combing her medium-length brown hair with her fingers. Too nervous to come over and say hi to the boss' daughter? Or just irritated about being seen in public next to Hurd's Hawaiian shirt?
Then Pepper's dear partner, Special Agent Alfson, strolled up with a frozen drink in hand. His pretty blonde hair was just a little out of place, very unusual. And was his thin handsome face maybe a little flushed?
"Ah, I knew you'd be off-duty!" he said to Pepper with a too big smile. Maybe the drink in his hand wasn't his first. Or even his third.
"And the lovely Chief's daughter. Chief's lovely daughter. Zula." Alfson took her hand and kissed it.
"Enchantée," said Zula.
"That your first Daiquiri, partner?" asked Pepper.
Alfson waved dismissively. "No worries, I'm not working tonight either. I'm just keeping an eye on things." Smiling at Zula. "My lucky night."
Zula smiled back.
Was Alfson naturally that obnoxious, or was he just trying to irritate Pepper?
Plenty of the crowd was headed toward drunk. Pepper saw two middle-aged women in short dresses, a bleach blonde and a redhead, had climbed onstage and were taking selfies with DJ ChilEboy. The DJ pulled them both in tight and the three were laughing uproariously.
Pinky the cocktail waitress re-appeared, handing over test tubes of blue alcohol to the twins and Maddie, who quickly drank them with maximum flair and hooting.
A while later, Angel reappeared with a tall, slim dark woman with brown eyes and long black hair braided like a rope. The missing woman—Angel's new flame, Marisol. Quite a beauty but older than Pepper would have predicted. Angel bragged that she was second-generation Cuban too. A filmmaker. Marisol shared she was headed to Havana in a few days for a documentary she was shooting about an endangered species of Cuban orchids. She started to describe the changes happening there since the U.S. relaxed its embargo a bit. Lots of stealth business activity, lots of challenges dealing with Cuban officials. The next wild west.
Angel hovered proudly but couldn't stay in one place. It wasn't easy, hosting the most happening night spot to hit Cape Cod in anyone's memory. He hustled away to talk to his security team.
"You keep him clear of trouble while I'm gone," Marisol said, laughing, flashing white teeth. "Some women misunderstand Angel's hospitality!"
Pepper had just headed into the men's room, still chuckling about Angel and his many romantic highs and lows, when he stopped short, staring incredulously. A large, crude five-point star was drawn on the bathroom mirror in what looked like red marker or lipstick. And roughly colored in. It looked like a big, red starfish. Below it was written: Where is my candy!
An overweight man in a Tommy Bahamas shirt was washing his hands. He saw Pepper stop and stare. "Yeah, some fucking people, huh? Just say no to drugs…" the man said.
The significance of the red starfish from the Keser and Dunne crimes had never been mentioned publicly. So only a person involved in those killings would leave this sign. Did it mean another attack had happened, or was about to? The First Daughters were just steps away, in a big, wild crowd…
The Tommy Bahamas guy tossed his paper towel at the black garbage can by the wall and walked out as three other guys came in. Three of the Justin Case disciples who'd tried to join the stare down with Pepper earlier. Pepper almost didn't recognize them, his mind was racing so fast. He had to go tell the Secret Service about the mirror—
"Hey, shitface," said one. The tallest, farthest to the left. Maybe the wittiest.
"Not now!" said Pepper, and he started forward to move around them toward the bathroom exit.
"We just need to talk to you," said the middle guy, sliding to block Pepper's way, arms out wide, with a smile that suggested he was lying. The guy with the long curly hair. Where had Pepper seen him before tonight? Was he…one of the knuckleheads who'd been in the driveway at the New River Front house?
"Guys, I'm a cop and I've got to go prevent a crime. So, seriously, get the fuck out of my way." Pepper was getting angry. Frustrated. He didn't have time for this! An attack on the First Daughters might be happening out there, that very second! Pepper wished he was wearing his handgun tonight.
"You can go in a bit, asswipe. Once you promise to stop hassling Justin Case," said the shortest. But thickly muscled. Heavy black boots. "And once your ambulance gets here."
They came at him at all together, in a sudden bum rush. To surprise and overwhelm him. Probably planning to get him down, stomp him.
But Pepper moved too, at the same moment. He moved forward and left, hitting the tallest guy with a straight right punch to the face. Stunning him for a moment, just long enough for Pepper to yank him into the path of his two buddies, tangling them.
Pepper's hand was on the bathroom door handle when he was grabbed from behind. It was Curly, yanking him back toward the other two. Toward his beating.
But Pepper went with it, throwing himself backward. Curly fell on his ass from the lack of resistance and Pepper landed on him, twisting as he fell, and hitting Curly with a headbutt at the moment they both reached the floor. He caught Curly right across the bridge of his nose, which collapsed and erupted. An immediate bloody mess. Curly's eyes were open but unfocused—stunned, maybe part way unconscious.
Then Pepper really lost it.
Maybe it was a combination of his anger and frustration about being delayed while the First Daughters wer
e in danger. Maybe it was too many times of suppressing his instincts and trying to not rock the boat. To do things the right way. But for whatever reason, Pepper's vision was now a white flash. And the rest of the world was slower, a thick liquid. Pepper was both in the action and above it, almost an observer. He watched himself punch Curly in the face twice, then scramble to his feet and slip sideways to avoid a booted kick from the shortest of the attackers. He grabbed the boot at the highest point of the kick, charged forward, and the man was bowled over backward, his head cracking against the black ceramic sink.
The tallest guy tackled Pepper and they both slid on the wet floor as they fell. They rolled together across the wet tiles, crashing into the black metal garbage can in the corner. Pepper broke loose and found his feet first, so as Tall Guy rose, Pepper kneed him in the chin as hard as he could. The man tumbled backward into the garbage can, which collapsed and tipped, covering him under a little avalanche of crumpled paper towels.
Pepper sensed another guy coming up behind him so he spun into the man, grabbing his shirt, pushing him to his heels, pulling back his other fist—
"Mano!"
Pepper came out of his rage, found himself holding Angel by his tie and shirt in one hand, the other fist just starting to move forward. Pepper froze, let go. "Sorry brother! These guys jumped me but I've gotta— I think there's gonna be—" Pepper gestured at the red starfish scrawled on the mirror, yanked open the door and left Angel standing openmouthed in his rumpled suit, surrounded by the bloody mess of bodies on the bathroom floor.
And as Pepper burst from the men's room back out to the patio, he heard a loud scream cut through the music.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Pepper immediately saw Maddie Smith's silver dress near the bar. And the twin white leather dresses. But Pepper was pretty sure that's not where the scream originated. More like from the direction of the stage.
So Pepper ran that way, saw the blonde and redhead still up there, but the DJ wasn't in sight. The women were part way bent over and looking around the stage in panic.
The DJ must have collapsed?
Pepper made it to the stage before Malecón security. The DJ was lying on his back and his face was covered in vomit. His body was convulsing violently.
Then the convulsions stopped.
DJ ChilEboy was unconscious and not breathing. "Call for an ambulance! Call 911!" Pepper yelled at the blonde and the redhead above the music's heavy bass. The two women stared wildly at him, then the redhead finally pulled out her phone.
Pepper used two fingers to clear the man's airway, then began CPR.
Lieutenant Hurd arrived at Pepper's side, knelt to assist. Then did a double take. "Ryan, why're you covered in blood?" Pepper didn't interrupt his counting to answer.
A doctor in a leopardskin miniskirt came onstage and took over. Pepper and Hurd following her orders.
The paramedics arrived very quickly. In less than twenty minutes from the time of the scream, an ambulance departed with the still-unresponsive ChilEboy accompanied by the leopardskin doctor. The crowd was unsettled, rumors swirling. Had ChilEboy drunk too much? Shot up, sniffed or swallowed too much? Another ambulance had arrived, the rumor was there'd been a mugging in the men's bathroom. The gossip fueled the crowd's chatter. But as soon as the stretcher with ChilEboy had left the stage, Justin Case stepped up with a hey, hey into the microphone and kept the music spinning. Or the play button playing. However club music works. But his presence on stage seemed to reassure the crowd that everything was going to be lazy, hazy and cool.
Pepper quickly filled in Hurd about the bathroom attack and they hurried to the men's room. They found Angel standing by the door, arms crossed. With a pair of paramedics impatiently standing by. Angel had locked the three assailants inside and was waiting for Pepper before he'd unlock it.
Hurd drew his handgun and led the way into the bathroom. But the room was empty, other than a mess of blood and paper towels. A window above a stall had been smashed.
"Fuckers!" said Angel. "And what the hell's that on my mirror. Some wacko wants their candy? Jesus…your bad guy's either nuts or a kid."
Pepper was just as unnerved by the lipstick words. Was the red starfish killer just messing with them, or did the repeated references to candy have some significance?
Everyone went back outside. "Should I shut down early?" asked Angel. His night had gone from triumph to disaster.
"I'll get a BOLO out for three white guys covered in blood," said Hurd.
Pepper quickly gave him a few more descriptive details of his attackers and suggested that the lieutenant also try to locate the Tommy Bahamas guy who was in the bathroom when Pepper entered it, to get a statement. The lieutenant left.
Special Agent Alfson joined the group and saw Pepper's blood covered face and shirt. "Ryan, what the hell happened to you?"
"Trust me," Pepper said, with a wink. "Most of it's not mine. Did you get the girls out of here?"
Alfson grimaced. "Freestyle and Funsize? They wouldn't leave! The DJ thing spooked them for half a second, but a little more liquid courage and they bounced right back."
Pepper filled in Alfson about the red starfish graffiti and the agent went to inform the protection detail about the danger, then to take a look at the bathroom mirror.
"Angel, we need to interview your staff about ChilEboy," said Pepper. He'd seen a GHB overdose before and ChilEboy's seizures and vomiting made Pepper suspect that drug, or something similar. Which wasn't so hard to accept, a DJ overdosing from a club drug, right? But did the DJ take the dose himself, or was he poisoned? If it was a coincidental accident, why else had someone drawn the red starfish on the mirror?
"Mano, you mind washing up first?" asked Angel. "All that blood, you're going to scare the crap out of my girls. My guys too."
Angel set them up in the stock room and pulled employees in to be interviewed, one at a time. Bartenders, security and waitresses. Pepper and Lieutenant Hurd asking the questions. Alfson was there, leg tapping impatiently. Zula too. Pepper had washed his face off with a wet bar towel and stripped his shirt off. Put on a shirt which Angel threw him with a grin—a Malecón staff t-shirt, at least one size too small.
The story came together from staff interviews. The blonde and the redhead women on stage had ordered a round of shots for themselves and ChilEboy, but when Pinky the cocktail waitress delivered them, the DJ had grabbed and drunk all three. "Like a joke, you know?" asked Pinky. Whose real name was Joan. "Then they ordered another round, but I was slammed. So I didn't get back to them with the second round before, you know, he collapsed." Her eyes were full of fear and excitement.
"We need to talk to the blonde and the redhead," said Pepper.
"I'll go see if they're still here," volunteered Alfson, slipping out. Much more sober now.
"One last question," Pepper said to the waitress. "If someone wanted to spike those three shots, did they have a chance?"
"I put in the order from my tablet, but it took me a few minutes to get back to the bar. So yeah, they would have been made by Kyle or Summer and just sitting there with other orders. You think they were spiked?!?"
Alfson came back a couple minutes later and reported the blonde and the redhead were long gone.
At that moment Zula received a text from an ER nurse she knew: DJ ChilEboy had been declared dead on arrival at Cape Cod Hospital.
Angel left to pull the plug on the night. No last call, just a quick, polite shutdown of the music, raising of the lights. More police were arriving by the minute.
"You think the DJ was poisoned by the Starfish Killer?" Hurd asked the others. "Why the hell would he want to kill ChilEboy?"
Alfson shook his head. "I'm guessing he didn't. I bet ChilEboy drank shots meant for Freestyle and Funsize. Looks like the whole First Family's being targeted, not just the POTUS. And Ryan, did I hear this ultra-lounge circus was your big idea? We got lucky this time but please, no more bright ideas involving the twins, huh?"
Out on the patio, the crowd was filtering out. Maybe witnesses slipping through their fingers, but they didn't have the manpower to stop the mob exit. Pepper found Maddie and her group with the First Daughters outside on the sidewalk. The twins were shrieking with laughter. Blowing kisses. Hugging Angel. Hugging everyone in their group or near them. ChilEboy's death wasn't killing their buzz. It only made the night more epic.
But Pepper hadn't secured his free pass into Eagle's Nest yet… "Hey—," he yelled to the First Daughters as they started to walk away. This might be his one last chance this week for an invite inside Eagle's Nest. But he had to stay at Malecón to help Hurd for a while… Then a question came out of Pepper's mouth that even surprised himself. "Do you girls like waffles?"
Of course Brianne and Skyler did. Loved them. Now that he'd mention waffles, they wanted to go for some right now. Had to!
"We have the best waffle house on the East Coast right here in New Albion. Aunt Anney's Kitchen. But it's closed this late. Tell you what. Get those Secret Service gentlemen to put my name on the gate list and I'll bring you a big bag of them in the morning. Practically breakfast in bed."
They loved it. Aunt Anney's Kitchen, the whole idea. So awesome. Pepper would be welcomed with open gates, they'd take care of that. But not too early…
"Thank you, Officer!" winked Maddie, then turned to the twins. "Ok, darlings, let's go, go, go! Hey, what happened to our third Suburban?"
From behind her, Justin grinned right at Pepper. "Congrats, man—you got yourself an honest job?" Pointing at Pepper's borrowed Staff shirt, laughing. "Now, I gotta get me some velvet." Taking Maddie's hand and leading her away toward the first Suburban.
"Velvet?" asked Pepper.
"Don't ask, Mano," said Angel. "Don't even think about it..."