The Complete Matt Jacob Series

by Klein, Zachary;

  Since Lauren had errands to run, I made her promise to take her cell and return directly to the hospital right after she finished. I also made her promise to call then immediately hightail it to his room if she felt even the slightest sense of stalk.

  So Lauren had her marching orders, but I still needed mine. After slugging down the last of the coffee I drop-kicked myself into action. For the second time since this insanity began, I strapped on my holster. Wearing it made me feel more like a thinking detective than an unthinking dick.

  To talk, or not to talk. That was the question. And not simply because of Alexis’s erotic charms. What bothered me now was her connection to Teddy Biancho. If Alexis and Biancho were conspiring to drive Lauren from the Hacienda, it wouldn’t take him long to learn about my visit. And if he heard about it, Teddy wouldn’t be content to talk.

  But I wasn’t ready to make book on my suspicions. I’d been wrong about Lauren’s car and, frankly, I didn’t want to believe the worst. Telling Lauren that her daughter and the police Chief shot up the Hacienda and were trying to run her out of town would be difficult to say, harder to swallow. Especially if I couldn’t prove it.

  I stopped by my mechanic man, Manny, and borrowed another grandfather car. The new conservative me parked the loaner a few blocks from Alexis’s real estate office. No need to advertise my wheels. At first I thought no one was there, the door was locked and the front office dark. But Alexis heard the handle jiggle because she stepped out from the back of the building wearing an interested, though not unpleasant, look.

  “You’re here bright and early,” she said. “Change your mind?”

  The moment I saw her angled eyes and skin tight blouse, I wanted to. “Tempting as it is, I don’t think so.” I managed in what I hoped was a similarly light tone. Hell, I was pleased my voice hadn’t cracked.

  “I didn’t think so,” she chuckled. “Come on inside.”

  I followed her to a plush seating area in the rear of the office and sat down on a black leather sofa.

  “I’ll stay over here,” she said stepping gracefully around a marble-topped coffee table. “I wouldn’t want to tempt you.” She laughed, then sat directly across from the couch.

  “Nothing you can do about that, Alexis.”

  “Thanks,” she replied. “You’re very gallant, but honestly, there’s no need. Are you here because you’re interested in relocating?”

  “I’m strictly a city rat. Do you mind if I smoke?”

  Alexis shrugged and I lit up. “I just want a little information.”

  “About what?”

  “The Hacienda. The furnace situation threw me and I’m trying to get a handle on how much work the place really needs.”

  Alexis looked me over coolly, all her laughter gone. “Your detective is showing.” She pointed toward my right shoulder, “There, under your baseball jacket. You don’t believe the furnace accident was an accident at all, do you?”

  “What else could it be?”

  “Nothing else, but that’s not what you think.”

  I gave some ground. “I just want to be sure. We’re still only a short throw from the drive-by.”

  Alexis shook her head. “Why can’t you believe Teddy? He’s been very clear about the shooting.”

  “Crystal, but there haven’t been any arrests.”

  “He probably doesn’t have enough evidence, that’s all. And nothing terrible has happened since then.”

  I kept silent.

  “Jesus, you actually think the furnace was deliberate, don’t you?”

  “All I want is your opinion on the building. You know the house better than anyone. Though I suppose it makes sense to ask you about Biancho as well,” I added, gently raising the stakes. “Just some assurance the man is competent.” I was dancing with danger, but sometimes you got to trust your gut.

  Alexis laughed but her eyes never caught the joke. “Teddy’s competent, all right. He’s been competent his whole damn life.”

  It hung there so I took it. “Well, if anyone would know about his life it would be you, right?” I plastered my face with a warm smile; the hell of it was, I felt jealous. But this was work not play and I’d better remember it. Biancho would.

  She frowned, “What do you mean?”

  “Just that both your mother and brother mentioned you’d been his friend for a long time.”

  Alexis shrugged, “Friend is an overstatement. At least since he went away to college. Before that you might say we were friends, but even then it was sticky.”

  “Sticky?”

  Alexis looked embarrassed but the look was a lie. “He had a crush on me.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. You can do that to men,” I said, parroting her mother.

  “Some men,” Alexis said too quickly.

  It was starting to dawn on me that our night together had been no big deal. At least for her. “But you don’t crush back?” I smiled, hoping I didn’t look like I felt.

  “Attachments restrict my freedom.” She thought for a minute then added, “I’ve seen too much damage when people can’t let go.”

  “Talking about your family?” The words slipped out without thought. Fuck it, in for an ounce, in for a pound.

  Alexis’s eyes grew hard. “You’re a quick study, aren’t you? Actually, my mother has been doing a pretty good job since your father-in-law came aboard.” She didn’t sound ecstatic. “Except, of course, with the Hacienda.

  To put your mind completely at ease,” she continued, “it’s no surprise that the furnace broke. I told you there were accidents waiting to happen. My father does what he can to keep the place from disintegrating, but it isn’t enough. The house needs an enormous amount of work and Lauren won’t, or can’t, have it done.”

  “Why does Paul work on the Hacienda? I mean he has his own house and family to worry about.”

  Her lips tightened. “He spent his happiest years at the Hacienda; also, Dad knows how much it means to me, how much I care. He can’t stand seeing me this upset.” The last was spoken defiantly.

  Time to talk my way out of her office. During the conversation her long legs had shifted further apart, and I had a hard time keeping my eyes on her face. Worse, Alexis had dealt me enough partial truths to reinforce my suspicions. In fact, my instinct told me I’d crossed a line and now she had had become suspicious of me.

  It wasn’t until I was smoking in Manny’s car that I realized the usefulness of that crossing. My clumsy attempt at subtlety just might flush them out. Alexis wasn’t the type to let the game come to her. All I had to do was make sure Biancho didn’t flush first. I didn’t think I could repeat last night’s performance.

  So I spent the day being very, very careful, moving the sedan regularly, working the area on foot. I followed far in the distance when Alexis left her office to show listings. And spent serious time hoping Alexis and Biancho wouldn’t meet. I wanted to have it wrong. Most of me wished he wouldn’t show and, for the rest of the day, most of me won.

  Night was falling, with it a patented North Shore fog. I was two sub sandwiches fatter before I began second-guessing my strategy. If Alexis and Biancho did meet, they weren’t going to invite me into their cabal. But the only other option was running Lauren out as a mechanical rabbit. Problem was, I just didn’t feel like a winning greyhound.

  The thick fog gripped the darkening hills by the time I followed Alexis from the office to her condominium. A town within a town. When she pulled into her sub-division, I grew anxious about being seen. I killed the lights and white-knuckled the wheel, relieved when she finally turned onto a circular driveway in front of a tiny cottage. Cars were pock-marked throughout the wooded area making it easy to find an obscure spot. Between the fog and the tinted windows on all of Manny’s sedans, it was unlikely I’d be seen.

  I stretched my legs as best I could, expecting a long night of nothing. The Chief appearing at Alexis’s door would be more than enough—if it happened.

  As if my ruminat
ions mattered. Two hours into my stash I fell sound asleep.

  Forty-five minutes later, I jump-started to the roar of an engine. Alexis’s Saab growled toward the street, its fog lights cutting a swatch of bright white through the thick brume.

  But I’d have made book the engine noise had come from a different direction. Sleepy, stiff, stoned, and confused, I remained stuck behind the steering wheel, even after the convertible slowly drove out of the circular driveway.

  And lucky. Another car without lights pulled from the curb about a quarter of a block away and rolled past. Despite my tinted windshield, I reflexively ducked behind the dashboard and only caught a glimpse of the driver. I wouldn’t raise my right, but it sure looked like Chief Biancho.

  Which added a whole new wrinkle. If Biancho and Alexis were in cahoots, why was he tailing her? I grabbed my bottle of water and splashed a handful on my face. I waited another thirty seconds then followed the second car. Carefully. The roads were dark and slightly murky and Alexis’s tail still wasn’t using lights. Neither was I and I’d be in deep shit if I plowed into Biancho’s behind.

  The procession seemed to be retracing the route Alexis took home from her business. I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d be noticed, headlights or not, so I chanced an alternate path and turned on the lights. If I didn’t get lost, I could beat the other cars to the office. That is, if the other two cars were actually going there.

  I found a decent spot to park and waited anxiously until the low-riding Saab swung onto the street. Alexis pulled directly in front of the office, bouncing one of her tires onto the curb. Then she sat motionless, head cupped in her hands. A minute later the second car drove past and kept right on going.

  Alexis finally left the Saab and walked to the office door. Instead of unlocking, she rapped. The door cracked open just enough to let her slip inside, but the front part of the building remained dark. I wanted to hop out of the sedan and work on foot, only I kept thinking about that second car. I was trapped right where I was, curious and claustrophobic.

  Not for long. Out of the corner of an eye, I saw a shadow turn the corner and storm up the street. I watched with both eyes as the solitary figure strode toward Alexis’s office. As soon as he walked under a lamp my earlier guess was locked: Police Chief Teddy was now on foot patrol.

  Biancho approached Alexis’s office presumably to join the get-together. My assumption was correct, but not before a couple of detours. First the Chief walked past the building and stared at a long white Infinity. I flashed on a similar car in the driveway next to Alexis’s other office in Provincetown which we’d seen on our way to the lighthouse. The thought brought a flurry of self-recrimination. I’d completely forgotten about Alexis’s business partner.

  Biancho returned to the storefront. But instead of knocking on the door or kicking it down, he slowly worked his way up the small path alongside the building until he was out of sight.

  “Something is happening here but you don’t know what it is,” ran through my head, Dylan’s raspy voice and all. And as long as I was Mr. Jones I wasn’t gonna know what it was either.

  My frustration took flight when Biancho charged into view and banged on the door with an angry fist. Eventually Alexis flicked on a lamp and let Biancho enter the dimly lit area behind the plate glass. She was surprised and unhappy to see him, standing with her legs planted, her arms folded across her chest.

  Despite a less than spectacular view, I could see their conversation heat up. Biancho was waving his arms excitedly. Alexis occasionally stamped her foot. She kept pointing toward the door, but the Chief was adamant. This time he won the argument since Alexis finally stepped aside, her body communicating defeat and angry displeasure.

  I waited patiently for a couple minutes before I snuck up the same path alongside her office. The fog was lifting, and there wasn’t much to hide behind. I made damn sure to keep quiet. When I caught a glimpse of the tete-a`-tete through a small window into the back room I was even more careful. None of the participants looked pleased; two downright mad. The same two who had just been fighting in the front of the office.

  The other guy didn’t look angry. He looked like a heavy from a grade B black-and-white: a slick, Caucasian businessman. Slim build, slimmer waist, shaved bowling ball head, custom uit blue suit with a slight bulge at the contoured hip, gray shoes, and four fingers full of platinum and stones. A well-dressed hammerhead shark. Maybe I should introduce him to Clifford.

  Alexis and Biancho stood motionless in the spacious room, but Hammerhead kept gliding, talking to both. Satisfied with their responses, the shark slid onto the black leather couch and unceremoniously plopped his pointed shoes on the marble table. From my uncomfortable angle, all I could see were his crossed at the ankles. That was enough; this was a schtarker who cleaned his manicured fingernails with a switchblade.

  Now it was Alexis talking. Mostly to Biancho, who wore the look of a caged animal. He clearly disliked what he was hearing, hated being there, but his deflated posture gave proof of his helplessness. Me, I couldn’t hear a fucking thing, no matter how hard I pressed my thick head against the triple pane. After a couple of seconds I just watched the show.

  And a helluva show it was. Alexis emptied her arsenal of smiles, smirks, and seduction, sex spinning off each gesture. Twice she leaned her full bosom against Biancho’s arm while her fingers touched his hand. Squeezing it for emphasis before backing away. I got hard watching her. ‘Course, nothing new in that.

  Every once in a while Biancho glanced over to the couch for corroboration or to ask a question. The Hammerhead’s ankles would uncross as he replied, cross when he finished. But this was Alexis’s performance. Talking, touching, beguiling, she waltzed in and out of my view.

  I became so mesmerized by her movements, I stopped looking at anyone else and didn’t notice the shoes disappear from the table. But Biancho caught my attention when he unbuttoned his sport jacket and pointed to his gun. A moment later I heard the office door and I ducked behind a garbage can in case Hammerhead glanced up the path. But he walked directly to his car and, with a farewell hit of his horn, peeled rubber.

  When I turned back to the window Biancho and Alexis had already moved on to Act III. She looked contrite as Biancho took center stage, giving Alexis a vicious tongue-lashing. His face was purple, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

  I was tired of being on the outside looking in. With Lou and Lauren, with Boots. Even the lighthouse tryst had been managed by Alexis. The only time I’d felt any control was when I’d rubbed my gun on the side of Clifford’s face. I wanted more, and I wanted it now.

  I was draped pretty far out on a limb when I knocked. There was no evidence that this get-together had anything to do with my concerns. Hell, maybe they’d been organizing a fun-loving threesome.

  But when Alexis yanked open the door, her look of disaster told me all I needed to know.

  “What are you doing here?” she exclaimed.

  “Happy to see me?” The pro had finally wrested control from the moonstruck puppy and my voice was harsh, free of sexual ambiguity. This was business, had been since Lou almost died. I felt strong and powerful. And I enjoyed it.

  “No, not really, Matt.” She struggled to mask her apprehension. “I’m pretty busy right now. Why don’t we set a date?”

  “No dates and no blue bird on my shoulder. I’ve been watching you nuzzle up to Biancho, but that shit won’t work with me.”

  Apprehension transformed into fear. “You’ve been watching? Tonight, here?”

  I wedged my foot into the open door. “That’s right, Alexis. Your building has windows and I like to watch. I would have preferred to listen, but I’m low tech.”

  “Have you been drinking?” she asked. The woman didn’t quit easy.

  “Stone sober, not high, and hardly horny.” I saw Biancho slink silently into the hallway at the back of the building. I took a deep breath and pulled my gun. If I’d guessed wrong about him
I was gonna be in a heap of trouble.

  “That you Jacob?” Biancho called.

  “Sure is, Chief. I’m tired of the fun always happening without me.”

  “Let him in, Al,” Biancho ordered. “I planned to talk to him anyway. Jacob, if that’s a fucking gun in your hand, put it away. Washington Clifford told me about last night, but some things can’t be repeated, you understand?”

  I’d jacked myself up to get into the office, but was sane enough to stick the .38 back into its leather. Unfortunately, Alexis was still stubbornly standing in my way.

  “Just let him in,.” Biancho barked.

  For a moment Alexis looked like she would tell Biancho where to place his order but, with a snort and a Rowe toss of her head, she moved out of my way. I stepped around her and passed Biancho on the way toward the back room.

  Much to my relief he didn’t shoot or slap on the cuffs. Didn’t even have his gun in hand. Just nodded wearily as I strode by. I picked an easy chair and made myself comfortable. I’d finally made it to the Big Dance.

  The tension was so explosive that when I lit a cigarette I was mildly surprised the room didn’t blow. Alexis motioned and I stifled an impulse to light one for her, instead, slid the pack and plastic lighter across the marble table. She leaned forward on the edge of the couch, her knees crossed, thighs uncovered. Biancho remained standing, his face downcast and surly.

  “Talk to him, Al,” Biancho said, fatigue replacing his earlier Commandant.

  “About?” she snapped. “You want him here, you talk.”

  “No one invited me, Alexis, I’m crashing.” The nasty in my tone cancelled any possible embarrassment, ambivalence, or confusion.

  “You saw Silverstein?” Biancho asked.

  “I saw somebody I’d be scared to have as a partner.”