A-List

by D P Lyle

  “It’s not like that dude hasn’t done this before. From what we know about him, anyway.”

  “I get the feeling things between him and Kristi were a little more than his usual dogging around.”

  Johnny shook his head. “Kristi was special.”

  “Yes, she was. In many ways.” Tony leaned back in his chair and rubbed one temple. “That’s why whoever did this won’t walk away.”

  “You thinking you’re not going to bet on the police anymore?” Reuben said.

  “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  AFTER THE PARTY broke up, Nicole and I grabbed a table at Criollo, the Monteleone’s restaurant. Classy, cool, and quieter than the bar. Pancake and Sophie joined us. Ray begged off, saying he had work to do and would order room service. I think he was tired of watching Pancake act like a lovesick puppy, fawning over Sophie. I could be wrong on that but, trust me on this, Ray lacks the warm and fuzzy gene. The Pancake-Sophie mating dance reminded me of him and Jill Hanks. Back in high school. She the cheerleader, he the star player, their hookup seemed natural, even inevitable. At first, he was lovestruck, like now, as was Jill. But over the year the relationship withered, mutually, and by graduation, each had moved in separate directions.

  When our waitress appeared, Sophie selected the Shrimp Bienville; Pancake, the bone-in rib eye. And an appetizer of pork belly with jalapeño cornbread. I chose the grilled pompano; Nicole, the char-grilled oysters, adding that I should order the oysters, too.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “You might need them. I have big plans for you tonight.”

  Sophie laughed, and then tossed in that maybe Pancake should consider the same. He did, flagging down our waitress and adding the oysters to his order. I declined, saying I’d be fine.

  “Sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Nicole said.

  “Reasonably.”

  “Reasonably? That’s a ringing endorsement of your prowess.”

  “Prowess? That’s me. Jake the Stud.”

  “Sure you are.” She patted my arm.

  “You complaining?” I asked.

  “Not in the least.” She kissed me on the cheek.

  The meal was great, and we continued the champagne train, not wanting to switch alcohol types in the middle of a good buzz. I was never sure that made much difference, but why tempt the fates? Particularly since I had “big plans” to look forward to.

  The conversation, which mostly was light and fun, turned toward the day’s events. Sophie said she felt guilty about “tattling” on the twins, but I assured her that what she did couldn’t be classified as “tattling.”

  “Seems that way to me,” she said.

  “Not the same thing,” Pancake said. He draped an arm around her shoulders. “You simply offered up evidence.”

  She gave a half shrug.

  He pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head. “You did the right thing. If Tara and Tegan are involved in this, we need to know. And if Kirk is innocent, we need to know that, too.”

  “I can’t even imagine that Tara and Tegan did this,” Sophie said. “Doesn’t compute.”

  “All we know is that they fudged the DNA,” I said. “Why they did it, I have no idea.”

  “Maybe they were just goofing around? They do that all the time.”

  “I’m not sure pulling a stunt like that with the police is a wise choice.”

  “Probably not,” Sophie said.

  “Regardless, we should know more tomorrow,” I said. “Doucet indicated he’d have the preliminary results by noon.”

  After we returned to the room, Nicole’s “big plans” turned out to be all that and more. She was insane, and acrobatic. I love it when that happens.

  * * *

  The next morning, I awoke tired and stiff. Not that way. My muscles—back, shoulders, legs—ached, as did my head. The latter from too much alcohol; the former from a whole lot of Nicole.

  We skipped breakfast, opting for coffee and a walk along the river. The Tai Chi folks were at it again, as were the tugs that pushed barges here and there on the river. After a shower and clean clothes, we met Ray and Pancake just after one o’clock at Mother’s for lunch. Afterwards, as we walked along Tchoupitoulas toward the hotel, Doucet called Ray, asking where we were. Ray told him, and he said he’d meet us at the Monteleone. He was standing in the lobby, talking on his cell, when we arrived. He closed his phone, sliding it into his jacket pocket.

  “I take it you have the DNA results,” Ray said.

  Doucet nodded. He scanned the lobby, then jerked his head toward the front door. “Let’s step outside.” On the street, he said, “Sophie was right. The James twins’ DNA samples don’t match each other. But Tegan’s matches that taken from Kristi.”

  Ray whistled.

  “She killed Kristi?” Nicole asked. Her eyes were wide.

  “Doesn’t necessarily mean that,” Doucet said. “All it really means is that her DNA was present. Could be an innocent explanation for that.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  Doucet looked up the street, his gaze unfocused. “Can’t really think of one. But maybe they can tell me something I’ll believe.” He looked back toward us. “Any idea where I might find them?”

  “They went shopping,” Pancake said. “Sophie went with them.”

  “What time?”

  “Around ten thirty.”

  “Where?”

  “They were on foot,” Pancake said. “Headed that way, last I saw.” He nodded up Royal Street.

  “Shouldn’t be too hard to find them,” I said.

  “I’ll get patrol on it,” Doucet said. He pulled out his cell.

  Thirty minutes later, we had come up empty. That’s when Pancake’s cell rang. He answered, listened for a minute, and said, “We’ll be there in a minute. Don’t move.” He disconnected the call. “That was Sophie. The twins are gone.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  WE FOUND SOPHIE standing along Royal, right across from Madam Theresa’s shop. The front door was closed, so I suspected the good madam had some big-eyed tourist inside, scamming another forty bucks. Still, her words echoed in my head: “But he is not the one. They did it. Not him.”

  I looked at Nicole. She was obviously thinking the same thing as her gaze angled that way.

  “What happened?” Doucet asked.

  Sophie was shaken. Her fingers trembled, as did her lower lip. Eyes moist, breathing ramped up. “I was in there.” She indicated the antique shop behind her. “They were over there.” She pointed across the street. “Through the store window, I saw them being pushed into the back of a black limo.”

  “Pushed? By whom?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Some guy. Tall and mean-looking. I think he had a gun.”

  Johnny Hebert. One of Tony’s goons. No doubt.

  She went on. “I couldn’t see the driver, but once they were inside they took off. Headed that way.” She pointed up Royal. “Turned right and were gone.”

  “When did this happen?” I asked.

  “Just now. Right before I called.”

  “Fuck,” Doucet said. “Has Tony lost his goddamn mind?”

  “Looks that way,” Ray said. He pulled out his cell, scrolled through his contacts, and pressed a number. He put the phone on speaker so we could hear.

  Tony answered after two rings.

  “Ray Longly,” Ray said.

  “Hey, Ray, what’s up?” Tony asked. He sounded normal, calm.

  “Let them go,” Ray said.

  “What? Who?”

  “You know damn well who.”

  “I’m afraid I’m at a loss.”

  “Listen to me, Tony. This is a huge mistake. You have no idea how big.”

  “And I thought we were friends,” Tony said.

  “Apparently not. Let’s talk.”

  “I’m busy today. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Maybe today. Maybe now.”

&nbs
p; “Not going to happen.”

  “Don’t make me unleash the dogs of war on your ass,” Ray said.

  “Tell you what. I don’t have a clue what you’re jabbering about, but when you want to talk like a couple of adults, give me a call.”

  The line went dead.

  Ray shook his head. “Some people just can’t get out of their own way.” He looked at Doucet. “Any idea where he might have taken them?”

  “Not likely to one of his clubs. That would be too risky.”

  “Then where?”

  Doucet hesitated a beat. “Don’t know.”

  “His grabbing them means he knows about the DNA,” Ray said. “No doubt.”

  “Of course he does,” Doucet said. “Probably knew before I did.”

  “And he isn’t going to wait on you guys,” I said. “He’s going to take care of this his way.”

  “He usually does.”

  “We have to find them,” Nicole said.

  “I’ve got an idea,” I said. I looked at Ray. “Let’s start with Ragman.” “Good idea.”

  I turned to Nicole. “You and Sophie head back to the hotel. Stay there.”

  Nicole nodded. I was sure she would argue the point, but then again, I guess she saw the danger in all this. She grabbed Sophie’s arm, and they headed up the street.

  We found Ragman exactly where we thought he’d be. In his alley. Chatting on his phone. His eyes widened as we walked up. Pancake didn’t hesitate, but rather charged right at him. Ragman took a step back. Pancake punched him in the chest. The air left Ragman in one sibilant wheeze, and he stumbled. Pancake flattened a palm against Ragman’s sternum, pressing him against the concrete wall. With his other hand, he slapped the phone from his hand. It cracked against the pavement.

  “Hey, man.”

  “Hey, nothing,” Pancake said. “We have a few questions.”

  “Fuck you, man.”

  Bad idea.

  Pancake’s fist dug into the pit of Ragman’s stomach. He collapsed on all fours, gagging. Pancake grabbed the back of his shirt and lifted him. He looked like a marionette without strings, dangling in Pancake’s grasp.

  “You ready to talk or should I start breaking shit?”

  Still gasping for breath, Ragman managed to squeak out, “What you want, man?”

  I was impressed that Doucet stood back and let all this go down. Guess he had a low opinion of Ragman. Or maybe a degree of admiration for Pancake’s methods. Now he spoke.

  “Where’s Tony Guidry?”

  “How the fuck would I know?”

  “Where would he hole up if he wanted to lay low?”

  “The Belly Up’s all I know.”

  “Guess again,” Ray said.

  Pancake slammed a forearm into Ragman’s chest, pinning him against the wall once again. “Listen up, you little shit. Start talking or I’ll punch your teeth into your lungs. Tony grabbed a couple of folks. Where would he take them?”

  Ragman’s eyes watered from the impact and again he struggled to breathe. “How the fuck would I know? I don’t know nothing about Tony’s habits.”

  He appeared to be telling the truth. Amazing. And after a few more questions it became apparent Ragman couldn’t help. Pancake released him, and he staggered again, bending forward at the waist, his breathing ragged. I thought he might fall. Or faint. Or cough up blood. Instead he said, “What about my phone?”

  “Send me a bill,” Pancake said, and we were gone.

  Next stop: Ju Ju’s.

  Doucet took the lead. Much more polite and controlled. Ju Ju did have his two armed morons with him, after all. Unlike Ragman, Ju Ju wasn’t intimidated, or even concerned, and offered nothing, saying he had no idea what we were talking about, that he didn’t know where Tony might be, and that even if he did, he wouldn’t say. He suggested Doucet get a warrant if he wanted to turn Tony’s world upside down.

  Next stop: The Belly Up.

  No Tony, nor his two guys, but Robert and Kevin were there. They didn’t seem happy to see us. In fact, they looked scared.

  They knew. No doubt.

  “Got a couple of questions for you,” Doucet said.

  The brothers exchanged a glance, then Robert said, “About what?”

  “I suspect you know.”

  Robert hesitated, glancing at his brother, taking in the room.

  I scanned the room. A dozen people in the bar, twice that many at tables in the restaurant area.

  “Outside?” I said. “Would that be better?”

  Another hesitation, then he nodded.

  Outside, in the parking area, we faced off with the brothers. We waited while a pair of young ladies came out, climbed in their car, the driver taking a couple of minutes to check her makeup and hair in the rearview mirror. Seemed to take forever, but finally she cranked the car to life and they pulled away.

  “Where’s your uncle?” Doucet asked.

  Another glance toward his brother. “We don’t know.”

  Pancake moved. Ray stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “Look at me,” Ray said. “Tony grabbed the James twins. Right off the street.”

  Kevin shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

  “Tara and Tegan James. He snatched them.”

  Robert looked confused. “Why would he do that?”

  “Because he thinks they were involved in Kristi’s murder.”

  “Were they?” Kevin asked.

  “That’s not the issue here. Kidnapping is.”

  “We don’t know nothing about it,” Robert said.

  “But you do know your uncle. My question for you is where would he take them?”

  Robert stared at him but said nothing.

  Ray stepped into his face. His nose only inches from Kevin’s. “You want to be part of this? You want to go down for Tony?”

  Robert was now in full panic but said nothing. Like his brain had vapor-locked.

  “Tony fucked up,” Ray said. “Big-time. And unless you two want to get dragged into the middle of this, I suggest you talk. Now.”

  Robert took a ragged breath. “We don’t know anything.”

  Ray stepped back, looking at Pancake. “They’re all yours.”

  Pancake smiled, closed on them.

  “Wait a minute,” Robert said, stepping back, raising his hands in a defensive posture. “Wait just a minute.”

  “I’m waiting,” Ray said.

  “He has a house. Up across the Pontchartrain.”

  “Where?”

  “About an hour from here.”

  “That doesn’t help,” I said. I pulled out my iPhone and opened the map app. “Show me.” I handed the phone to Robert.

  Obviously still trying to figure out his options, hoping to find some way to avoid all this, Robert held the phone but didn’t look at it.

  “Get to it,” Pancake said.

  Robert worked the screen, moving, expanding, shrinking the map before finally settling on a spot north and west of the city. “There.”

  “See, that was easy,” I said.

  I examined the map, Ray looking over my shoulder. It showed a house on the banks of what looked like a narrow finger of swamp water. An access road ran just north of it, the house’s drive slanting off and winding through some scrub trees before dumping into what looked like a gravel lot behind the structure. A short dock and small boat house extended into the water. I expanded the view. Nearest other house appeared to be at least a half mile away, farther up the access road. I extended the phone toward Doucet. “You know where this is?”

  He took the phone, manipulated the image for a few seconds. “Sure do.” His finger traced a snaking river. “This is the Lacombe Bayou. Just outside Lacombe. North of the Pontchartrain, not far past Slidell.”

  Doucet now addressed Robert and Kevin. “Here’s the deal. Keep your fucking mouths shut. We’re going after Tony, but if either of you gives him a heads up, I swear to God you’ll never see the light of day again. Am I clear?”


  The brothers nodded in unison. Then Robert said, “We ain’t part of this. Okay?”

  “You better hope not,” Doucet said.

  * * *

  Robert watched as Doucet and his entourage circled the Belly Up and disappeared. “What do you think?” he asked Kevin.

  “I don’t know what to think.” Kevin shook his head. “Maybe he was lying.”

  “Really? Why? For what purpose?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Tony took them. That I don’t doubt,” Robert said. He brushed his hair back from his forehead. “The question is why?”

  “You know why. He’s going to kill them.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “If he thinks they did Kristi, he won’t even blink.”

  “Shouldn’t we call him?” Robert said. “Let him know the cops are headed his way?”

  “What? And let him know we pointed them that way?”

  “He’ll find out anyway. He always does.”

  “Shit,” Kevin said. “We are so fucked.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “I vote that we do nothing. Say nothing. If later we need to, we can deny everything. Say the cops made it up.”

  Robert thought about that for a minute. “It’s not like we really have a choice.”

  “Not a good one, anyway.” Kevin rapped a knuckle on his brother’s arm. “Let’s get back to work. Act like nothing’s wrong.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  TARA AND TEGAN James were scared. No, they were terrified. It was written all over them. Their tight faces, their wide eyes, their entire body language. Their white-knuckled fingers laced together in one big knot. Their sniffing and grimacing as they fought back tears. Not very successfully.

  Tony loved it.

  He faced them down the long passenger compartment of the limo. He with his back to the open window that looked toward Reuben, the driver, Johnny to his right, the twins huddled on the rear seat.

  He waited, giving them his most malevolent stare. Practiced and perfect. He knew what was coming. Had seen it many times. The questions, the bargaining, the begging. All that sniveling always made the ultimate killing that much easier. He hated whiners.

  And then it began: Where are you taking us? Why are you doing this? Please don’t hurt us. We can pay you. We won’t say a word. Just let us go and you’ll never see us again.