A-List

by D P Lyle

  He wished at least once someone would come with some new tack. But, it was always the same.

  Tony, of course, answered none of their questions. He simply stared at them, letting the tension and the fear mount. The gun Johnny held in his lap, its muzzle angled in their direction, though not necessary, added a nice touch. Each twin’s gaze had bounced to the weapon more than once.

  God, he loved this stuff. The power he could wield over others. Literally life and death. And when the victim knew it, had time to process it, really process it, deep down on a visceral level, that was even better. When death seemed less scary than what might happen before.

  That’s where these two were. And he knew it. Could feel it as a palpable entity.

  It took the better part of an hour to reach his cabin. He always called it a cabin but, in fact, it was a well-appointed, two-story, four-bedroom home. But it was isolated, no nearby neighbors, and it had served its purpose for many years. Not only as getaway from the city, but, like now, as a place where business could be conducted. Business that needed privacy.

  He had considered calling in a few of his other guys but rejected that idea. The snatch had been clean. No struggle, no unwanted attention. Reuben had said that anyone who even noticed would only see two girls and a guy climbing into a limo. No big deal. Happened all the time in New Orleans.

  And Ray Longly? He was fishing. He didn’t really know what had happened. All he could know is that the girls were missing. And he might not even be sure of that. He might call the cops, of course, but so what? They had no way of knowing where Tony was going. The Lacombe house wasn’t even in his name. Rather that of a distant cousin. Four states removed. No trail to him.

  And if all that were true, no extra muscle would be needed. Besides, the fewer people who witnessed what was coming, the better. He trusted Rueben and Johnny completely. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done this before. He paid them well, very well, took care of them, and, perhaps most importantly, had enough on each to get them the needle, or at least life without.

  Once inside, they settled in the living room, Tony in his large, overstuffed leather chair, facing the twins across a six-foot coffee table. They collapsed on a sofa, fingers still entwined, legs wound into braids. Reuben stood near the window, gazing out toward the bayou, Johnny in the kitchen prepping the demonstration that was to come. A little something to get the girls’ attention.

  “Tell me,” Tony said.

  “Tell you what?”

  Tony smiled. “Which one are you?” he’d asked the speaker, the twin on the left.

  “I’m Tara.”

  “Good. Now we have the players in this drama sorted out.” He tapped a finger on the chair’s arm. “Tell me why you killed my niece.”

  “We didn’t,” Tara said. She looked at her sister. “We don’t know anything about it.”

  “That’s your answer? You know nothing?”

  The twins stared at him.

  “Then riddle me this—how did Tegan’s DNA get beneath Kristi’s fingernails?”

  Tegan’s eyes widened. Tony smiled.

  “No way,” Tegan said. “The cops must have planted it or something.”

  “Pray tell, why would they do that?”

  No response.

  “What they did was smash your little scam. They know you guys aren’t identical twins. You just look that way. They know your little switcheroo didn’t work.”

  Tara and Tegan exchanged a glance.

  “Yeah, I bet you two have been pulling that shit since birth. Probably worked most of the time. But not now.”

  The twins seemed to deflate right before his eyes. Time to ramp up the pressure.

  Johnny stood leaning against the kitchen doorjamb. Tony nodded.

  “Let me show you something,” Tony said. He stood and waved a hand toward the rear deck and the dock. “This way.”

  Reuben pushed the door open and held it while Tony and the girls filed out.

  “Look at this,” Tony said. “My own little pond, as it were. Sort of hangs there off the Lacombe Bayou.” He looked at the girls. “Looks calm and peaceful, doesn’t it?”

  Tara froze; Tegan nodded.

  “But here’s the thing about the bayou, about everything in this part of the country—danger always lurks in calm waters.” He waved a hand toward the water. “Just when you think all is well, everything changes. Just when you think you’ve sidestepped the bullet, you discover, too late, that that’s not the case.”

  Johnny came out the door, a deep metal bowl in one hand. Tony gave him a nod. He walked out on the dock and began tossing chicken parts into the water.

  Tara and Tegan watched, confusion on their faces. Then Tegan’s eyes widened and she pointed.

  The first gator slid from beneath an overhanging shrub and glided toward the offerings. No hesitation. His jaws snatched a chicken half and he shook his head. Then another gator appeared, and another, and then there were five of them. Tony ignored them, keeping his attention focused on the twins. Panic didn’t quite cover the reaction.

  “My little pets,” Tony said. “What do you think of them?”

  The girls were too terrified to speak. And seemed almost unable to breathe.

  “They like my little pond. Hang around here all the time. As you can see, they aren’t very cuddly, but they do serve their purpose.”

  Neither twin could drag her attention away from the alligators, now weaving in circles, looking for more food.

  Tony ushered them back inside. They again collapsed on the sofa, sobbing uncontrollably. He sat and waited until they gained some degree of composure. Until they wiped away tears and looked at him. Fear and anticipation all over them.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen,” Tony said. “I’m going to feed you to them.”

  The girls wailed in unison. “No, please, no.”

  Tony waited, letting it sink in, letting them come down a notch. Then he said, “I’m afraid that’s not negotiable. The only question is whether I do it while you’re alive, or after my boys put bullets in your head.”

  “Please,” Tegan said. “You don’t have to do this.”

  There it was, more bargaining. “Actually, I do.”

  “No, let us go. We won’t say a word.”

  So predictable.

  Tony leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Not true. You’re going to say a lot. Starting with how and why the fuck you killed Kristi.”

  “We didn’t,” Tara said. “I swear. We …”

  Tony raised a hand, silencing her. He stood and looked at Reuben. “Toss them in the fucking pond.”

  “No, please,” Tara said.

  “Then talk.”

  Tara began to sob, barely able to talk. “Yes, we did it.”

  Tony stabbed her with his gaze but said nothing.

  “We bought some ketamine, soaked a joint with it, and gave it to Kristi. After they were out, we went in and …” Her voice trailed off.

  “Strangled her?” Tony said. “Strangled the life from my niece?”

  The twins sobbed and nodded in unison.

  “Where did you get the bump? The ketamine?”

  “Some guy.”

  “What guy?”

  “I don’t know,” Tara said. “Some black kid. Over on Decatur. Near the fire station.”

  Ragman. Tony would visit him soon. Very soon.

  “How did you get in the room?”

  “We went to dinner together,” Tara said. “Kirk, Kristi, and us. I gave Kristi the joint in the restroom. Told her it was some really good stuff and she and Kirk would like it. After dinner, we went back to Kirk’s room for some wine. While there, I snatched the room key. From the top drawer of his dresser.”

  “How’d you know it was there?”

  “It’s where he always leaves it. Along with his watch and wallet and things like that.”

  “So you came back in later and killed Kristi.”

  Tara nodded.

  “It was me,” Tegan
said. “I did it.” She clasped her sister’s hand. “Tara didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Just fed her drugs and stole the key card that got you in the door? That kind of nothing?”

  The twins began to sob again. Softer, resigned.

  “Why?” Tony asked. “Why Kristi?”

  Tegan swiped the back of one hand across her nose and sniffed. “To get back at Kirk, I guess.”

  “For what?”

  Tegan wiped the back of one hand across her nose, sniffed back tears. “For using me. For dumping me. For breaking my heart. For killing part of my soul.”

  “What does that even mean?” Tony asked.

  “Years ago, right after I turned eighteen, Kirk and I were at a party. One of those Hollywood things. We ended up in an upstairs bedroom. He said he thought he might love me. I believed him. We had sex. That night and many others for the next few weeks. Then he walked away. Said it would never work out between us. He went back to humping the chick of the week as if nothing had ever happened.”

  “It was awful,” Tara said. “Tegan was devastated. I mean, we still had to work with him. Go on location with him. Do all the promo stuff with him. Act like we were still just one big happy family. And watch him with woman after woman while acting like it meant nothing.”

  “That was hard,” Tegan said. “Half the time I wanted to scream and other times I actually considered suicide.” She looked at her sister. “I might have done it had it not been for Tara. No way I could leave her.”

  “Okay,” Tony said. “You’ve lived with this little Hollywood drama for what, four or five years, and now you decide to do something? Why Kristi?”

  Tegan expanded her chest with a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “She was different. I think Kirk actually fell for her. She wasn’t just another bimbo to him.” She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the tears that cascaded down her cheeks. “With the others, I knew they meant nothing. That sooner or later he would cut them loose, always leaving the hope that he would eventually come back to me.” She looked at her sister. “Tara kept telling me to move on, but I couldn’t.” She let out a ragged breath. “God, I wished I could. I wanted to.”

  “I’m confused,” Tony said. “If you were angry with Kirk, why not kill him?”

  Tegan gave him a look that seemed to ask if had been listening to what she had said. “Because I love him. I could never harm him.”

  “Just frame him for murder? Is that it?”

  “He needed to be punished. But I couldn’t kill him. Not possible.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  DETECTIVE TROY DOUCET took charge. No doubt about that. He did so quickly and efficiently and the result was that a whole bunch of stuff happened in a big hurry. We had walked on our rounds to see Ragman, Ju Ju, and Kristi’s brothers at the Belly Up, so we had to hustle it back to the Monteleone. On the way, Doucet made a series of calls, barking orders, cutting people off who tried to ask too many questions, and made sure, in no uncertain terms, that what he was saying weren’t requests but rather orders. The upshot was that by the time we reached the hotel, he had arranged a helicopter to fly by Tony’s place, discreet and distant, of course, a SWAT team to assemble just outside Lacombe, and a hostage negotiator to join the team, because you just never knew how all this would go down.

  In the lobby, we ran into Kirk and Ebersole. Kirk said they were waiting on the twins as they had plans to go to a jazz club over on Bourbon. They were late. Ebsersole was antsy, which from my view was his usual state. He checked his watch three times in the minute we chatted with them. Nicole ended the discussion by saying they were shopping and probably lost track of time. And that maybe they should go ahead and she would let them know when they showed up.

  She was smooth and then some. Said that with a straight face, no hint that she was lying.

  We had decided on the walk over that it would be best if Kirk and Ebersole knew nothing about the abduction. Their hysteria would have been another issue to deal with, and right now focus and speed were important. Not to mention that Ebersole liked to jabber, and if the wrong ears locked on, the word might get back to Tony that we knew he had the twins. Surprise would be out the window and that could easily tilt things in the wrong direction. No one wanted a gunfight.

  Speaking of which, after they took Nicole’s advice and left, Ray and Pancake retrieved weapons from their rooms, a pair of Sig Sauers. I grabbed my baseball bat. Okay, not great in a gun fight, but in close quarters it might be useful. And it was much quieter. If it came to that. Hopefully not.

  Then we were off.

  I suggested Nicole stay behind, Ray agreed, but she put an end to that line of thinking very quickly.

  “Want me to kick your balls up into your throat?”

  She has a way with words.

  Doucet agreed with her. Said he thought it was a good idea, but I think he was afraid of her, too. Smart man. Then he added that if it became a hostage situation, the negotiator might want to call on her since she knew the girls. Made sense.

  We flew across the Pontchartrain on I-59 and then west on 190, which, according to the signs, was the Louisiana Scenic Bayou Byway. This plugged us into the swamp country along the Lacombe Bayou, an anaconda of dark water surrounded by scrub trees and grassy fields. Ray and Doucet rode in Doucet’s department-issued sedan; Nicole and me with Pancake. Nicole insisted on shotgun. Rather than being impolite, and of course risk getting kicked in a delicate region, I let her have it. Intelligence is my hallmark.

  My cell buzzed three times on the way. Each was Tammy. Each I punched over voice mail. Not that that would change anything. Or deter her from more calls, but right now didn’t seem the right time to enter Tammy’s world.

  Nicole looked back, smiling. “Tammy?”

  “Of course.”

  She and Pancake laughed. I failed to see the humor.

  We pulled into a corner service station lot, behind the building, where a military-looking SWAT vehicle sat next to a pair of St. Tammany Parish Sheriff’s vehicles. A dozen officers in varied uniforms huddled nearby.

  I wondered what jurisdictional hurdles Doucet had to jump through to organize this, but it was quickly apparent that everyone assembled deferred to him. One of the deputies opened a map and spread it across the hood of his cruiser. His name was Paul Harbin and he knew his domain. In addition to the map, he had an iPad with a geographic map of the area displayed.

  Buzz. Tammy. Voice mail.

  “Here,” he said indicating a spot. “This is Guidry’s house. About a mile and a half from here. It’s snugged up against this little out-pouching off the Bayou. Sort of like a big pond. The access road is here, and Tony’s drive spurs off here.” The map crinkled as he tapped it with his finger. “The access road will put us just north and west of the property. The drive is maybe two hundred feet long.” He picked up the iPad. “As you can see on the satellite image, the house is surrounded on three sides by thick scrub brush and trees, so we should have good cover for an approach.”

  “Good work,” Doucet said.

  “Got something else that might help,” Harbin said. He snapped a finger at one of the deputies who handed him some folded pages. He spread them over the map. “This is the schematic of Tony’s house. The first floor is basically one large room. Big picture windows front and back.”

  “Good,” Ray said. “That’ll make it hard for them to hide in there.”

  Harbin nodded. His finger tapped the page. “Here he has a large deck and a short pier that overlooks the pond.” He scanned all the eyes that were on him. “As an FYI—rumor has it—Tony feeds the alligators in the area. So they’ll hang around.”

  “Why?” Nicole asked.

  Harbin turned toward her. “Body disposal is what we hear.”

  “He feeds people to the alligators?” I asked.

  “That’s the rumor. Regardless, I’d suggest staying out of the water.”

  I nodded. “No problem there.”

  Harbin look
ed at Doucet. “Any idea what we’re up against?”

  “I got a call from the helicopter I sent up. They made a couple of distant passes. Looks like the only vehicle there is Tony’s limo.”

  “He didn’t call in reinforcements?”

  “I suspect he thinks we have no idea he took the girls. Or that we know where he is.” Doucet’s face hardened. “And he doesn’t want any more witnesses than necessary.”

  “That means it’s probably just Tony and those two clowns he runs with,” Harbin said.

  “Armed clowns,” Ray added.

  Buzz. Tammy. Voice mail.

  Doucet lifted the iPad and studied the satellite image. “Okay, let’s put a couple of your deputies and a couple of the SWAT guys on either side. In the trees. Pancake—you, Jake, and a couple of the SWAT guys take the front. Ray and I and Deputy Harbin will come from here.” He pointed to a spot on the iPad screen that would put them near the left rear corner of the house, near the pond, just off the rear deck. “If we can get Tony to come out, maybe we can reason with him.”

  “You think he’ll listen?” I asked.

  Doucet scratched an ear. “Normally, I’d say yes. He’s not generally stupid. But with this kidnapping, I’m not sure he’s of very sound mind right now.”

  “What if the girls are dead?” I asked.

  “Then we have no one to protect,” Harbin said. “Sad as that would be, it would make this takedown much easier.”

  “We have to assume they’re okay,” Ray said.

  “Let’s hope,” Doucet said. He scanned the group. “Let’s roll.”

  “What about me?” Nicole asked. “Want me to go with Jake and Pancake?”

  “No,” Ray said. “You stay in the SWAT truck with Billy Jean, our hostage negotiator.”

  “That would be me.” She was short, wiry, dark hair pulled back into a short ponytail. She wasn’t uniformed, but rather in jeans and a Sheriff’s Department dark-blue tee shirt, a service weapon on her right hip. “I’m Billy Jean Janeway.” She and Nicole shook hands.

  Everyone climbed in vehicles, doors slammed, and we were off. My cell buzzed. Tammy, of course. I answered. Might as well get this over with.