A-List

by D P Lyle

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “Because we’re on opposite sides here,” Robert said.

  He shoved one hand in the pocket of his jeans. I wondered if he might pull out a gun. He didn’t.

  “You’re with Ford,” Kevin said. “That makes you all sideways as far as we’re concerned.”

  “We aren’t with anyone,” I said.

  That seemed to confuse them. Only for a beat, though.

  “You were there,” Robert said. “In court. Sitting right behind him. And then hanging with that fancy attorney he brought in from California.”

  “We were.”

  “That means you’re in his camp.”

  “We don’t work for Kirk Ford, if that’s what you mean,” I said. “Fact is, I’ve never met him.”

  More confusion.

  “Then why were you there?” Robert asked.

  “My uncle,” Nicole said. “He hired us to look into Kristi’s murder.”

  “Your uncle? Who’s that?”

  “Charles Balfour. He’s the executive producer of the Sea Quest series.”

  Robert smirked. “And he expects you to save his boy from himself?”

  “Not really. He expects us to get to the truth.”

  “Shit, I can tell you what’s true. He killed our sister.”

  “And if he did,” I said, “that’s what we’ll find out.”

  Robert took a couple of steps forward. He was maybe six feet tops, so I looked down on him, but he was thick and well muscled. I flashed on Ray’s self-defense book and tried to figure which eye to go for. Somehow the flick technique pictured in the book didn’t seem so simple right now. I should’ve read the next chapter.

  “You scratch around in whatever haystack you want, but the fact is he’ll pay the bail—it’s what rich folks like him do—and he’ll be on the street. That’s our world.”

  “I suspect that kind of thinking won’t be a good thing for you,” I said.

  “Worse for him,” Robert said.

  “That would be a mistake.”

  Robert didn’t flinch, but he did smile. “A mistake is taking his side in this. Not very healthy.”

  “I take it your uncle knows you’re here? Harassing citizens?”

  Even more confusion settled over Robert’s face.

  I continued. “I mean, from what I saw over at the courthouse, he wasn’t exactly thrilled with you two.”

  I guessed Robert ran out of clever banter as he took a step forward and reached for Nicole’s arm. I slapped his hand away and moved between them.

  “Maybe you guys should move along,” I said.

  Time seemed to come to a screeching halt. He froze; I froze.

  The right eye. That’s the one I decided on. Left-hand flick and then whack him with my right. We stared at each other. This could get real ugly, real quick. I braced my feet and balled my fists at my side, half expecting one of his own very large fists to come my way.

  My brain contorted. Strike first, or try to tap-dance out of this? The first option would definitely end discussion. I rummaged around in my mind for something clever to say. Anything that might defuse this situation. I found nothing.

  Then there was Kevin. Even if I managed to surprise Robert and get a fingernail in his eye, I didn’t think Kevin would simply stand there and watch.

  I noticed Nicole had eased forward. I also saw that her gaze was focused on Kevin’s crotch. I might have been jealous but I also knew her kickboxing skills had ramped up. The way her feet were set, it looked like she was preparing to kick his balls up into his throat. Beauty, smarts, and a kick-ass attitude. What was not to love?

  The little posturing dance everyone was doing seemed to hit a wall. As if no one wanted to make the first move. The air thickened, my chest hurt, and I realized I hadn’t taken a breath for maybe an hour. At least it felt that way.

  That’s when the cavalry arrived. Pancake’s truck lurched to a stop. Middle of the street. He ground the gear lever into park and he and Ray rolled out the doors.

  “What’s going on?” Ray asked.

  Pancake said nothing. He settled at my side and squared his shoulders. His were even bigger than Robert’s. Robert took a step back.

  “Just having a chat,” Robert said.

  “Don’t look that way to me,” Pancake said.

  “Maybe you misread the situation.” His gaze jerked right and left as if looking for a graceful exit. Pancake had that effect on pretty much everyone.

  “I would suggest that any misreading is on your part,” Pancake said. “Bet you’re pretty good at that.”

  “Look …” Robert began.

  Pancake punched him square in the sternum. A short, quick jab that knocked Robert back against a storefront, took his breath way.

  “You were saying?” Pancake asked.

  He gasped in a breath. “Hey, man, you didn’t have to do that.”

  Pancake shuffled toward him. “Seemed like a good idea to me.”

  Ray spoke up. “I take it you’re Robert?” And then to his brother. “Kevin? Or do I have it backwards?”

  “Yeah,” Robert said, rubbing his chest. “And I just might sue this guy for assault.” He nodded toward Pancake. “Maybe something worse.”

  “That wasn’t an assault,” Ray said. “But if you want to see one, I can turn him loose.”

  Robert hesitated as if weighing his options, meager as they were, and finally said, “We said what we needed to say.”

  Ray smiled. “Then maybe you should mosey along.”

  Robert jerked his head, indicating his brother should follow. We watched them go, Kevin glancing back over his shoulder as if he feared Pancake might not be finished.

  “Too bad,” Pancake said. “I was just getting warmed up.”

  Nicole hugged him. “You’re the best.”

  “That I am.”

  “Hey,” I said. “I had it under control.”

  Nicole laughed. “Jake, at the risk of saying something I’ve said many times, you’re a lover, not a fighter. And I’d hate to see your pretty face messed up.”

  That got a laugh from Pancake.

  My feelings were hurt. Really, they were.

  Nicole ruffled my hair and then hugged me. “Actually, you did good. My white knight.”

  I felt better. Sort of.

  “When will Kirk be out?” Ray asked.

  “Not sure,” I said. “Ebersole was hoping by the end of the day, but you know how those things go. Seems to take hours to move a few pieces of paper around.”

  Ray nodded. “I want to start with him. See what he says about what happened.”

  “I’ll check with Ebersole and see if he has an update.”

  “We’ll get checked in and then meet you guys in the bar.”

  “They have food there, don’t they?” Pancake asked.

  Nicole took his arm and led him to his truck, pulling the door open. “They have food everywhere in this town.”

  “Good. Ray wouldn’t let me stop. All I wanted was a couple of Moon Pies. Maybe an RC.”

  “Poor baby.” She slapped his butt. “Park this beastly truck and get checked in.”

  Pancake tugged open the back door and pulled out a baseball bat. “Look what I brought you,” he said. He handed me the bat. “I was going to bring you a gun, but Ray said you might shoot yourself with it.”

  I get no respect.

  I grabbed the bat. It was a Louisville Slugger. Ash, not one of those cheap-ass metal ones.

  “This’ll work,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “What about me?” Nicole asked. “Don’t I get a weapon?”

  Pancake smiled. “You got those legs, darling. I’ve seen you kick the bag. You’ll be fine.”

  She laughed. “You’re such a charmer.”

  “That’d be me,” he said.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE SIT-DOWN WITH Kirk Ford took place in Ebersole’s suite. The business sit-down, anyway. The social one happened in the Wine Room at
Commander’s Palace—the flagship of the extended Brennan family’s gastronomic empire. Maybe my favorite restaurant anywhere. What’s not to love about Commander’s? I mean, it’s been there over a hundred years and has served as the proving ground for such celebrity chefs as Emeril Lagasse and the late Paul Prudhomme. And the cuisine, as far as I could tell, hadn’t suffered from their departures.

  Kirk had been sprung from jail around five p.m. and had entered the Monteleone through a rear service entrance to avoid making a scene in the lobby and out on Royal where a handful of protesters and supporters held vigil. And made a general nuisance. Bet the Monteleone staff loved that. After a much-needed shower and a couple of drinks, Kirk was good to go so we climbed into Ebersole’s limo and headed off.

  For some reason, Ebersole felt this little social distraction would be good for Kirk—and everyone else. Sort of a get-out-of-jail party. Allow everyone to relax, decompress. Ray wasn’t pleased. He wanted to “get to it” as he said. But that was Ray. Always work first and play second. This time I was actually on his side. I couldn’t wait to hear what Kirk had to say, what he remembered, what he thought might have happened. Unless he already knew, of course.

  At Commander’s, we navigated another backdoor entry, courtesy of the maitre d’. Ebersole had made the clandestine arrangements with the crisp professional man who met us at the rear door. The two had also decided to make the reservation under a fake name. They chose Smith. I knew this because as we stepped inside Ebersole said, “Smith. Party of eight.” The two men then exchanged a brief smile.

  I wondered about their collective imaginations. I mean, I would have chosen the Manson family. Why not? Probably not a good idea though if staying off the radar was the goal. Still would have been fun.

  We were quickly ensconced in the private Wine Room where we settled around a long wooden table surrounded by bins of wine that no doubt held bottles more pricey than my car. The meal was, of course, flawless as was the flotilla of waiters that made sure all was just so. The conversation had been light, but a current of tension hung in the air like a bundle of electrical cables.

  Kirk was pleasant and smiled a lot—getting out of lockup would slap a smile on anyone’s face—but he seemed subdued, as if part of him was elsewhere. That was my take anyway. But since I had never met him, I could’ve been wrong on that. Given the circumstances, I would’ve been surprised if he weren’t apprehensive. I guessed that in the back of his mind, he was constantly assessing his future and all the ugly things that he might face down the road. The meal concluded with Commander’s famous bread pudding and a bottle of Remy XO cognac. I was so stuffed I could barely fold into the limo. The twins didn’t fare much better and moaned and complained all the way back to the Monteleone.

  Now, we gathered in Ebersole’s suite to discuss Kirk’s “situation”—Ebersole’s word. Not sure that was the right description. Not even close.

  Ray took the wingback chair at the head of the long, low coffee table, Kirk in an identical one opposite him. Nicole and I sank into the sofa. Ebersole dragged over two chairs and offered them to the twins, but Tara—?Tegan?—said they were too full to sit up, so they stretched out on the floor. Ebersole grabbed two pillows from the bed for them, but they tossed one aside and shared a single one to prop on. Ebersole and Pancake took the chairs.

  Ray first asked Kirk if he had any reservations about talking all this over in front of everyone, to which he said he didn’t, that everyone there were friends, even his “new” friends.

  Ray jumped right in. “Tell me,” he said. “You and Kristi.”

  Kirk related how he had met her a little over a week earlier in a Bourbon Street bar and said they had an immediate chemistry. They had spent every night together since then, mostly in his room, but a couple of nights out on the town. They had been to dinner at NOLA the night of her death. With Tara and Tegan. They all returned to the hotel round nine thirty. Tara and Tegan dropped by the room and they had some wine. The twins left around ten. He looked at them. “Isn’t that about right?”

  The twins nodded and spoke in unison. “That’s right.”

  Kirk continued, saying he and Kristi had sex “for a couple of hours” but after that things were fuzzy at best. He woke up the next morning and found her dead. In bed, next to him. He freaked, not knowing what to do, so he called Ebersole.

  “Any issues between you two?” Ray asked. “An argument maybe?”

  “No.” Kirk shook his head to emphasize the point. “Look, I didn’t kill her. Let’s get that straight right up front.”

  Ray caught his gaze. “So, you remember not killing her?”

  That stopped Kirk for a beat. He looked from one of us to the other before returning to Ray. “I don’t remember anything after we crashed.”

  “How do you think a jury will react to that?”

  Kirk’s jaw tightened. “Whose side are you on here?”

  “No one’s.”

  “Then why am I talking to you? If you don’t believe me, how can you help?”

  “Because you don’t need someone to kiss your ass right now. You need someone a shade more objective.” Ray waved one hand. “I don’t know you. Don’t know the situation yet. Don’t know what I believe. That’s what the guy who signs your checks asked me …” he nodded toward Nicole and me … “us—to find out.”

  “Then how do I know I can trust you?”

  “You don’t. But I promise you the DA will ask these questions in court.” Ray’s gaze never wavered. “And a shitload of even more uncomfortable ones.”

  Kirk sighed and collapsed back into his chair, his shoulders sagging. He looked scared. Or was it beaten? It was as if the true flavor of all this had just wrapped him like a boa constrictor. Like maybe he hadn’t considered that all that legal stuff he had seen on TV and in movies was now going to unwind his life. That he had the starring role in a true-life legal drama. Scary stuff.

  “You’re probably right,” Kirk said, his voice low, tired.

  “I’m definitely right,” Ray said. “What’s the first thing you do remember?”

  Kirk massaged one temple. “A headache. A nasty taste in my mouth. Confusion. Like I didn’t know where I was. Took a few seconds to figure it out.”

  “Then?”

  “Kristi was laying next to me. The sheet was up to her neck. I rolled over and gave her a nudge. Nothing. She just lay there. I thought she was simply asleep, but when I nudged her again, she still didn’t respond. I peeled back the sheet. That’s when I saw her bra wrapped around her neck.” He took in a ragged breath. “I touched her shoulder. It was cold.” He closed his eyes and grimaced as if fighting back tears, then pinched the bridge of his nose, gathering himself. When he opened his eyes, they glistened with moisture. “That’s when I knew she was dead.”

  “That when you went for help?” Pancake asked. “Called Mr. Ebersole?”

  “Yeah. I mean, I shook her. Called her name. Praying she’d wake up. I placed my ear on her chest hoping to hear a heartbeat. But I knew. Her skin was cold—and rubbery.”

  I looked at Ebersole. “After you got there, how long before you called the police?”

  “Ten, fifteen minutes. First, I had to calm Kirk down. He was a mess. Scared to death.”

  “Understandable.”

  “To be honest, the idea of getting rid of her, dumping her body somewhere, making it all go away, as if it had never happened, crossed my mind.”

  “Perhaps the worst thing you could have done,” Ray said.

  Ebersole nodded. “But it crossed my mind. Of course, getting a body out of the hotel and then—I didn’t know what then. Anyway, I quickly let that idea go and called the police.”

  “Glad you did. A stupid move like that would have made this a whole different story.”

  “This one’s bad enough,” Kirk said.

  Ray nodded. “Sure is. But things can always go from bad to worse.”

  “I don’t see how.”

  A heavy silence fell
over us. As if no one could think how this could really be any darker. Two people locked in a room and one ends up dead. It was like a B movie script.

  “The police found two empty wine bottles,” I said.

  “And we had one earlier—with dinner.”

  “Who drank the most? You or Kristi?”

  “Me. She wasn’t much of a drinker. But I think she had maybe three or four glasses.”

  “And a little smoke?” I asked.

  Kirk looked at me.

  “The cops found three joints. One half-smoked on the bedside table.”

  “Yeah. We did.”

  “Both of you?” Nicole asked.

  Kirk nodded.

  “We talked to a friend of hers,” I said. “And her ex-boyfriend. Both said she didn’t use drugs.”

  “Fuck me,” Kirk said. He leaned forward and rested his face in his hands.

  We waited him out.

  He looked up. “She didn’t. Until she met me.” He sighed.

  “That night was her first time?” I asked.

  “No. Not that night.”

  “Want to explain?” Ray said.

  “The first time was our second date. She was reluctant, but I talked her into it.”

  “Jesus,” Ebersole said. “The DA will paint you as a predator.”

  Ray raised a hand. “Just a second. So she tried it for the first time. And?”

  “She liked it. We did it every time we got together after that.”

  “The joints were yours then?” I asked.

  “Actually, no. Well, two were. She brought one. The one we actually fired up.”

  “She did?” I asked. “A girl who doesn’t do drugs suddenly has a dealer?”

  “All I know is she had one. That’s the only one we smoked. And only a little of it.”

  “She say where she got it?” Ray asked.

  “From a friend was all she said. Supposed to be good stuff.” He shook his head. “That’s an understatement. Sure fucked me up.”

  “What do you mean?” Nicole asked.

  “I remember us taking a couple of hits. Then we started having sex again. I must’ve been really hammered because everything was … odd.”