by Mark Pryor
I eased forward and saw him fumbling with his keys, no doubt stabbing at the ignition to dash after me, but by the time his ancient wreck of a vehicle had cranked to life, he was a little red dot in my mirror. I didn’t speed away from him, though, instead I pulled into the library parking lot, pretty sure he’d head that way. I tucked my car behind a van so that I couldn’t be seen by anyone until they actually passed me.
Sure enough, Travis White puttered by and I could swear he was still crimson with rage. I sure hoped so. I let him get a hundred yards ahead, then I pulled out of my spot and started to follow him. He drove north along Fifth Street, all the way to Barton Springs Road, where he turned right. I was having to make this up as I went along, this wee part of the plan, but it was to my advantage that he was heading roughly in the direction of Gardner Betts.
I had to make educated guesses at this point, which was not a big deal because it wouldn’t matter if they didn’t pan out. If my plan wasn’t executed this morning, it could happen this afternoon, tomorrow, or even the next day. He had no idea I was behind him, the oblivious idiot, and I followed him all the way to the Chevron on Riverside and South Congress. He turned in, and ten seconds later I did, too, taking the only available pump. He’d pulled into an empty parking spot in front of the gas station’s store, Riverside Grocery, but still hadn’t spotted me. I had to be careful from now on, play it just right, because this place would have cameras, and in a day or two a policeman would come asking for the footage of what was about to happen.
Even though I didn’t really need gas, I slid my credit card through the reader and put the nozzle in my tank. I turned my back on White as he went into the store, and I watched the numbers on the pump speed by. The tank filled up quickly, clanking to a stop while Travis White was still inside. I reholstered the nozzle and locked my car, heading for the store. Once inside, I lingered behind the shelves of chips and crackers, my head down but White always in view. He was buying beer, of course, a twelve-pack of Miller Light, and several bags of chips.
As he made for the exit, I grabbed a bottle of Diet Coke from one of the glass-fronted fridges, dropped two dollars on the counter, and stepped to the door just as it was closing.
Walking slowly, I put a car between White and me and waited until he was half in and half out of his Civic before I said anything.
“Hey, fuckface,” I said, slowly and clearly, but without looking at him. “Learn how to park next time.”
His arms were full of snack food, and he fell into his seat and looked up at me, his eyes wide with surprise. I could see the wheels turning, the recognition rising like the morning sun to ignite his wrath all over again.
“It’s you,” was all he could manage to say, though.
“Yeah, dumbass.” I started moving toward my car. “It’s me. And it was fun watching you pretzel yourself; we should do it again sometime.”
He threw his recent purchases onto the passenger seat as I jogged to my car, jumped in, and squealed out of there. He didn’t get his crap box started in time to follow me, at least according to my rearview mirror, but I jinked down a couple of side streets on my way to Gardner Betts just to be sure.
When I pulled into the parking lot in front of the Betts, I made a good show of staying in my car and looking all around, my head on a swivel when I finally got out. Once I was inside the building, Trejo nodded and said, “You OK, Dom? You’re late and were acting weird out there.” He nodded toward the large glass windows that overlooked the parking lot.
“Remember what I said about being followed?”
“Yeah, you see him again?”
“Did I ever. I got gas at the Chevron down there.” I jerked my thumb in the vague direction of the Riverside Chevron. “I’d seen this little red Honda behind me, that car I mentioned the other day.” He nodded along, as if I’d mentioned the make and color before. “Well, he pulled in but didn’t go to any of the pumps. Anyway, I basically confronted him, asked why he was following me.”
“Shit, you did?”
“Yeah. He said, ‘Fuck you, you’ll get yours.’ So I said, ‘What the hell does that mean?’ Then he reached over to the passenger side and said something like, ‘How about you get it right here and now?’”
“Holy shit, Dom, that’s insane.”
“Yeah, I know. I took off at that point.”
“Do you carry?” he asked.
“I do, but I’m not starting a gunfight at a gas station in the middle of Austin.”
“No, of course not. Did you get his license plate?”
“I was too panicked, to be honest. It didn’t even cross my mind. It’s just a red Honda Civic, maybe mid ’90s.”
He nodded. “OK. Type out a statement for me, exactly what happened. I’ll start a report. And you better tell your boss, too.”
“Oh, yeah.” I’d not thought of that, how public this might become. But he was right, I’d have to say something. I stopped by Terri’s office on the way to mine, her cheery smile dissolving as I told her what I’d told Trejo.
When I finished the story, she asked: “You don’t recognize him?”‘
“Nope.”
“I’ll have to pass this up the chain, there’ll need to be an investigation.”
Which I didn’t need. I said, “You know, being completely honest, I feel like maybe this was a road-rage-type thing.”
“Did you cut him off or something?”
“I don’t think so, but then if I had I would’ve done it by accident. Maybe I did and didn’t notice. Anyway, I don’t think we need the whole DA’s office in a tizzy over this,” I said reassuringly. “Certainly not yet, especially since I didn’t recognize the guy.” She frowned, so I continued. “Let’s do this. I’ll write a statement in case it turns out to be something, give it to Trejo, who’s creating a report.”
“That’s good,” she said.
“Yeah. And I’ll just keep my eyes open for the dude for the next couple of days. If I see him, I’ll call 911 and we’ll know it’s a thing. If not, then we’ll know it wasn’t.”
“Are you sure? We could pull surveillance from the gas station, maybe get a plate and find out who he is. Send someone to talk to him.”
And fuck up my plan. No thanks.
“No, thanks,” I said. “That’s a waste of resources at this point, really.” I acted a little irritated. “I don’t want this to be a big thing, Terri, I can look after myself without deputies chasing down every guy who doesn’t like the way I drive.”
“OK, OK.” She held up her hands in surrender. “We’ll stand down for now, if that’s what you want.” She wagged a reproving finger at me. “But if you see that guy again, if he follows you, then call 911 and we’ll send the cavalry.”
I gave her the thumbs-up. “That’s a deal.”
Phase One, complete.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
BRIAN
Dominic hadn’t mentioned until now the treasure-hunt aspect to the poker game, but since it was pretty close to my apartment, I didn’t mind. I think sometimes he gets people to do things just to amuse himself, like a power trip or something, but I wasn’t sure in this case so I played along.
What Dominic didn’t know was that I was getting ready for that poker night. I hadn’t lied about not playing for a year or so, that was absolutely true. But I didn’t see any harm in boning up a little. I bought a book on poker strategy and DVR’d a few of those Vegas competitions, not just watching the plays but also listening to the commentary, which was very enlightening. Connie didn’t approve of poker, kept pushing me for details, but I sure as hell didn’t dare tell her how much money was at stake. And once she understood that I was playing no matter what, she grudgingly let me do my research.
At six, I told Connie I was going to Whole Foods to get éclairs, her favorite. She’s so easy to manipulate sometimes, I actually felt a little bad. But it was exciting, too, this almost childlike game I was playing with Dom and his friends.
I tried the apartment
complex first, aware of my shiny, new Lexus as I cruised past all those crappy Chevys and Ford trucks. I didn’t see a red Honda Civic where Dom said it might be. I was actually a little surprised that he’d know or be friends with someone who lived here; it’s not a place you’d expect a cool, English musician-prosecutor to hang out. Maybe it was a friend going through hard times? Either way, I drove out of the complex breathing a sigh of relief, and headed to the library nearby. Sure enough, Dom’s friend was parked in front of the building. I noticed that the Civic was in a handicapped spot. I’d not thought of Dom as the kind of person who had handicapped friends, either; seems like he wouldn’t have the patience or sensitivity, or something. But then there was more to Dominic than I knew—there had to be, the way he was so good working with the kids at Gardner Betts, and the way he was being much friendlier to me.
I parked a dozen spaces away and watched for a moment. Dominic had explained that I’d be disqualified from the game if his mate saw me, and if challenged I had to play it off convincingly so that his friend didn’t know it was part of the treasure hunt.
“Pretend you’re at the wrong car,” he’d said. “It’s not that hard, he has no idea who you are or that you’re coming to the game.”
“What are the others doing?” I asked.
He gave me a look, like I was an idiot. “Dude, how can I tell you that? The way this works, I won’t even know.”
“But what’s in the envelope?” I turned it over in my hands. “Shouldn’t I at least know that?”
“You’re not much of a rule follower, are you?” He seemed amused now.
“I am, I totally am. I just figured . . . I don’t know how it all works, I guess.”
“It’s grown men playing elaborate yet childish games,” he said. “Silly, pointless fun that we haven’t gotten to do since we were kids.”
“I can get on board with that,” I said. “Six p.m., you said?”
“Right. Either outside his apartment, or at the library. And remember—”
“I know, don’t get caught. Don’t worry, I won’t.”
That’s why I sat in the car as the sky darkened, watching. But I couldn’t wait too long; Connie would be suspicious if I took forever out here. I opened my car door and picked up the envelope from the seat beside me. I started toward the library, strolling as nonchalantly as I could, but I stopped in my tracks when the front doors slid open. A woman with a stroller came out, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I started forward again, reaching the red Civic without incident. I stuck the envelope under a windshield wiper as instructed, then hurried back to my car. I sat in the driver’s seat and watched for a few minutes to see if he came out. Now that I was safe, curiosity had replaced my nerves and I wanted to see who he was. But after five minutes I had to get going, so I started the engine and pointed my car north for my next mission: a quick trip to Whole Foods to find a succulent éclair to appease my girlfriend and nail down my alibi.
CHAPTER TWENTY
DOMINIC
I’d left half a dozen messages for her. She was trying to put distance between us, I knew, but I didn’t like it because it was the wrong way around. She wasn’t like the other women I’d dated, used, but even so her gapping me was the wrong way around. She finally called me at six in the morning and asked to meet for breakfast. A cold feeling settled into my stomach because this is what I did, how I ended things. A public place, a hangdog expression, and some variation of I’m just not looking for a relationship right now. Leave a fifty on the table to cover her breakfast, and send over a second cup of coffee for her to cry into on my way out the door.
Surely not. For me this was going to be a reconnection, not rejection. I thought hard about why she might be so adamant, and the only thing I could come up with was Bobby. With him gone, she didn’t need me anymore. But really? Was it possible that everything else I had going for me held no interest for her?
Or maybe I was overthinking things and she just wanted to talk.
We met at Magnolia Grill, and she was already in a booth in the corner. She’d ordered coffee for us both.
No way.
I slid in opposite her. “You breaking up with me?”
“I think I did that already.” She gave me that unreadable smile. “So what’s to break up?”
“A beautiful thing?” I said it lightly, wondering what I’d see in her eyes. But she’d never been susceptible to that kind of charm, the glib and witty kind that worked so well on others.
“Sergeant Brannon called me again.”
That took the smile off my face. “Why?”
“I don’t know. He acted like he was checking in, trying to give me a chance to tell him something or other that I’d forgotten to mention before.”
“And did you?”
“What do you think?” She dragged a few strands of hair across her face and twisted them in her fingers.
“I think you did not.”
“Correct. Hopefully that’ll be it. Dominic, I don’t want him finding out about your connection to Bobby. You should be worried about that, too.”
“I am, in my own special way.”
A smile twitched her lips. “Your inability to worry might be your undoing one day.”
I mock gasped. “Are you threatening me?”
“I don’t need to, Englishman.” She shook her head. “You threaten yourself every day.”
Sad, but true. I paused for a moment, then asked, “Did they release his body yet?”
“Not yet. In a day or two, they said. I guess with homicides they’re slower.”
“They usually are, yes. I guess I can’t come to the funeral.”
“I guess not. Seems like they wouldn’t really be your thing, anyway.”
“True.” I didn’t want to say more, I didn’t want to anger or alienate her, but then I also didn’t want her calling things off.
“As I told you before, we shouldn’t see or talk to each other for a while.” She said it gently, as if I had feelings to hurt. “Which means you need to stop calling me.”
“You think we’re not smart enough to get away with seeing each other?”
“I think people overestimate how smart they are every day. And, personally, I think the smart move is to minimize our risk.”
“Funny, from the one who started this whole ball of wax rolling down the hill.”
She arched one eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s a saying.”
“Whatever.”
A plump waitress in a frilly dress and Doc Martins approached, pad in hand. “Y’all ready to order?”
I wanted to ask if her accent was real or put on for the tourists, but she looked like a delicate soul who might cry, and that’d make me look bad.
“Short stack with bacon, please,” I said. “And I’m guessing an egg-white omelet with spinach and mushrooms, for the lady.”
She nodded over her coffee cup, and the waitress trundled off.
“See, how cute that I can order for you.”
She pursed her lips as she thought for a moment. “Look, I’m not doing this just for me; it’s for you. Bobby’s beyond getting in trouble now, but your old friend Tristan Bell is still trying to drop you in the grease; and if that cop finds out about us, he can draw a line straight from you to Ledsome’s murder. He already has his motive, just waiting to kick in.”
“I’m taking care of that problem,” I said.
“How?”
“It’s complicated.”
“It always is with you,” she said. As ever, her voice remained soft, like she was making an idle comment about the weather. “Things with you are either supremely complicated or incredibly simple.”
“You think it’s my fault I see the world the way I do?”
“No, of course not. People are responsible for the way they act, not the way they feel.”
“You should be a shrink.”
“And you’d be my first client.”
“I’m beyond redemption,” I said. “Ain’t no fixing me
.”
She stirred her coffee. “I thought it was only stupid that couldn’t be fixed.”
“That, and me.”
“We can’t see each other again, Dom.”
“This is really about keeping Brannon out of our hair?”
“Yes. Like I said, if he finds out about us, he’s going turn up the heat, not back off.”
“And it’s not because you’re seeing someone else?” I knew she’d been seeing one other lady, which I was cool with. Another guy, not so much.
“It’s not. It’s about keeping that one little secret.”
“Big secret,” I conceded.
“Right. Very big.”
I looked at her for a moment, considering all the options. She was so beautiful, so poised, so assured, I knew that men everywhere threw themselves at her just as I’d done. But she was right about our relationship being the way we could be undone.
“It’s funny,” I said. “Me, you, and Bobby were the only ones to know about us.” She waited for me to go on. “You know what they say, don’t you?”
“What’s that?” she cocked her head, watching me.
“That three can keep a secret.” I smiled. “You know the rest of the saying?”
She nodded, not taking her eyes from mine as she spoke, her voice husky and low. “Three can keep a secret, when two of them are dead.”
I started to say something, but she picked up her purse and slid her legs out from under the table. “Good-bye, Dominic.”
I watched her leave, fishing around for an emotion but coming up empty, my eyes glued to that wonderful form, the gentle sway of her hips and the straightness of her back as she drifted between the other tables and out of the door. I stared in that direction until the waitress appeared in front of me, coffeepot in hand.
“A top-up, hun?” she asked.
I held out my cup, and that’s when I noticed the twenty-dollar bill sitting on the table in front of me.
I smiled. “Yes. Thank you so much.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
