Accused

by Michael Kerr

  Marcus sniffed at the bourbon as if it was a rose in a vase, and then took a small birdlike sip, smiled and said, “This is better than the piss-poor beer I get by on. Do you always set strangers up with a stiff drink?”

  “No,” Logan said. “Only when I intend to ask a favor of them.”

  Ellie Mae jumped in her skin when the knock came at the door. And then felt a great sense of relief when Logan’s voice said, “It’s me, Ellie. Open up.”

  He had stopped at a convenience store nearby and purchased two coffees to go. They sat on the beds to drink them and watched the late news. There was mention of Brad Dicky and his wife being murdered, and the presumption that it was linked to the shootings at the diner, but nothing new. The police were apparently following leads, which meant they had nothing. Logan hit the remote to kill the TV.

  Ellie Mae finished her coffee, went over to the door, opened it, leaned against the jamb and smoked a cigarette before locking up, taking off the oversize tee and jeans and saying goodnight to Logan before climbing into the bed that she had been sitting on and switching off the light.

  “Goodnight, Ellie,” Logan said as he lay down fully clothed, diagonally on top of the other bed – to maximize the room so that his feet didn’t overshoot the end of it – to fall asleep within a minute.

  Turning on to her side, Ellie Mae studied Logan in the gloom. He was lying on his back, arms by his sides, and didn’t move or snore, just breathed lightly. He was an enigma. Nothing seemed to faze him; he was capable of killing people or helping them, all in his stride. He was in essence a very complicated man who lived a simple life.

  Ellie Mae was still awake over an hour later. Everything that had happened over the last couple of days kept looping through her mind. Thoughts of what the future held in store frightened her. It was surreal to be on the run from men that she didn’t know, but whom she did know were determined to kill her. Eventually she fell into an uneasy slumber, to dream of the corpses at Mike’s cabin getting up off the floor and staggering towards her like zombies, to chase her out and into a swamp, where she began to sink as they waded in with their arms outstretched to grasp her.

  Waking and sitting bolt upright with a scream rising in her throat, Ellie Mae looked across to Logan. He was still fast asleep, and she was sure that he hadn’t moved an inch.

  Logan woke up at six a.m. He showered, cleaned his teeth with a toothbrush and paste from a kit he kept in a pocket of his rucksack. Ellie was awake when he came out of the bathroom, and so he told her that he was going out for a few minutes, left the room and walked to the convenience store and bought a bag of coffee, a six-pack of assorted Krispy Kreme doughnuts and a pack of cigarettes, because he knew that Ellie had smoked her last one, and he could do without her getting grouchy because she was missing her nicotine fix.

  He’d taken the key. When he got back Ellie was up and dressed and had the TV on for background noise. He tossed the pack of cancer sticks to her, placed the box of doughnuts on the scar-topped bureau and took the old coffee maker into the bathroom to wash out thoroughly before filling the reservoir with cold water. With it back on top of the bureau, he put enough coffee in the mesh filter to make a strong brew, and set it going.

  “So what’s today’s plan?” Ellie Mae said.

  “I should get a phone call later, and that will set the wheels in motion. This evening I’ll be meeting Cassidy and bringing this whole sorry mess to a conclusion.”

  “That could prove to be a lot easier said than done.”

  “Have faith, Ellie, it’ll be fine. I guess I’ve got a good track record when it comes to dealing with two-bit racketeers.”

  “Nothing is for certain,” Ellie Mae said. “You could get yourself killed trying to protect me. I don’t even know why you’re doing it. I was a total stranger to you.”

  “You were in a bind that you didn’t deserve to be in. I couldn’t just walk away and not know whether you made it or not. Events took over and led us to this time and place.”

  “So whatever you do, be careful. I don’t want your death on my conscience.”

  “First rule I adhere to is not to underestimate or trust many people. Cassidy is still planning on killing us both, but I think he’ll have a change of heart in a few hours. I’ve set wheels in motion to give him plenty to think about. He has more to lose than I do, and he knows it.”

  “You’re going to kill him if you can, aren’t you?”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “It should, but it doesn’t.”

  “Good, because it could well be the only way to deal with the situation.”

  “He’s a monster,” Ellie Mae said. “Like some kind of predator that has no regard for other people’s lives. His loss would be a blessing to those that live in fear of him.”

  They sat around and drank too much coffee and talked till midday, and then found a burger joint nearby for lunch. It was cheap and cheerful and the food was good. Ellie Mae couldn’t help but wonder if it would be the last meal they would enjoy together.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  THE blaze red Porsche Cayman rolled out of the double garage and headed for the Riverwalk outlet mall in the central business district, situated alongside the river.

  He followed in an economy rental, to park three rows up in the surface parking lot, and then he mingled with the shoppers that flooded into the precinct, keeping her in sight at all times as she entered the mall and headed for the elevators. He entered the car that she did, along with several other people that he thought from their attitude and array of cameras to be tourists.

  Stepping out, she clipped her way along the second level on four-inch high stiletto-heeled shoes that were the same bright red as her Porsche – presumably to appear taller – and entered La Boutique Élégant, which she rented from the Howard Hughes Corporation that owned the mall.

  There wasn’t a lot he could do. He needed to talk to her for a minute, and what he had to say would alarm her, so would have to be said privately in a place where her reaction would not cause an ugly scene and attract unwanted attention.

  He had no idea how long she would stay in the glitzy looking clothes store that he knew she ran, but supposed that she would leave it at lunchtime and perhaps eat at the Café Du Monde, The Crazy Lobster, or Mike Anderson’s Seafood. He didn’t think she was the type that would sashay her neat-looking ass into Mooyah Burgers or Izzo’s Illegal Burrito. She had the air of a woman that didn’t mix easily with common folk. Maybe he was wrong. For all he knew she could be down-home and dirty. You could rarely go by looks. He went to the food court and had a plate of chicken tenders, crinkle cut fries, Texas toast and soda in Raising Canes. He could see the store from the table he was sitting at. If she left he would follow her. He dipped a piece of the batter-coated chicken in a bowl of tangy sauce and smiled. He was being paid a lot of money just to pass a message that he’d rehearsed fifty times in his mind. He would wait all day if that’s what it took.

  Heather would rather have owned the boutique, but didn’t, so had told Nathan that renting a store at Riverside was not something that she considered more than a short-term venture. He had told her to look for a property that she deemed suitable, and that he would purchase it. She had the acumen to make it work, and he wanted her to be occupied, so that he could concentrate on his business, and on Martha, a Creole woman twenty years his junior, who was not only a voodoo queen, but a great lay that he had been fucking once a week for over ten years. Martha Dupré would chant when her love juice, as she called it, began to flow, and then scream out guttural obscenities in French when she popped and soaked him with a stream of warm ejaculate. He loved the bitch, but was in love with Heather, who he considered to be his soul mate. Sex was separate to love. It was a pleasurable bodily function, not a state of mind. You only lived once, so what was the point in denying yourself available pleasure when it was on offer?

  It was noon when Heather left the boutique and made her way back to her car. She cl
imbed in and closed the door, only for it to be opened again almost immediately by a tall black man who had to almost sit on his heels to be on the same level that she was seated at.

  “Relax, Mrs. Cassidy,” Marcus said. “I have somethin’ to tell you, and then I’ll be on my way.”

  “Who are you?” Heather said as she wondered if she could open the glove compartment, grasp hold of the canister of pepper spray inside it and squirt some in his eyes. The answer was no. He was too close to her, and taking any action at this moment in time could result in her being hurt by him.

  “Doesn’t matter who I am,” Marcus said as he plucked the ignition key from her hand. “You just need to slowly reach in your purse, take your cell phone out and pass it to me. Do it now, and then listen to what I have to say. I’m just a messenger, and don’t want you bein’ stupid and doin’ anythin’ that would give me cause to take my gun out and shoot you in the head.”

  Heather handed over her phone and glared at the grizzled looking black man in the cheap suit, and wished him dead.

  “All you have to know is that your husband will be settin’ up a transaction with a guy by the name of Logan. And Logan doesn’t trust him as far as he can spit. Fortunately, trust will not be an issue, because if anythin’ untoward should happen to Logan, then a team that has flown in from The Big Apple will take subsequent action that would result in you, your daughters and then your husband being killed.”

  Heather said nothing. She would save her words for Nathan.

  “Is there anythin’ that I’ve just told you that you don’t understand?” Marcus said.

  “No, I get the picture.”

  “So be sure to impress on your gangster hubby that what I’ve told you will come to pass if Logan so much as catches a cold.”

  “Are you through?”

  “Yeah, but be aware that we’re being watched by an associate of mine. I’m goin’ to give you back your car key and leave. Stay where you are for five minutes before drivin’ away, or bad things will happen.”

  That was it. Marcus went back to his car and drove away. He felt a little guilty threatening the woman, but could live with it. Jason Kidd, who’d asked him to do what he’d just done, had given him five hundred bucks, and told him to call him when the message was passed, and that he would give him another five Benjamins to conclude their business.

  Marcus stopped at a strip mall and had a Dr. Peppers and a chicken wrap, and then phoned Kidd or Logan – he wasn’t sure which – on Heather Cassidy’s cell, at the number that he’d been given and written down on a cardboard coaster at The Boat Hook.

  “How’d it go?” Logan said. “Did the little lady seem suitably impressed?”

  “She was pretty cool about it, but I’d hazard a guess that she has already gotten in touch with her husband and given him grief.”

  “Nice job. I’ll meet you at nine this evening at the bar to pay the outstanding amount.”

  “Do you have any idea who Cassidy is, Mr. Kidd, or is it Logan?”

  “It’s Logan. And I know exactly who he is, my friend.”

  “Do you know that he is reputed to make people that seriously piss him off disappear? Let me give you some cover if you’re plannin’ on meetin’ him.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks, Marcus. I’ll take it from here. The message that you gave his wife will ensure that I walk away in one piece.”

  “Don’t bank on that. Some folk are too dumb or full of shit to react the way you expect them to.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind,” Logan said and ended the call.

  “What have you decided to do?” Ellie Mae said from where she was standing at the open room door, smoking another cigarette.

  “Take you to Walmart; you need new clothes and stuff.”

  “I mean about Cassidy.”

  “I’m going to phone him again in a couple of hours and arrange a meet. I plan on hitting him where it hurts, in his wallet. And then I’ll probably shoot him. With him dead this’ll be over with and you’ll be safe.”

  Ellie Mae was having a hard time accepting that people had already been murdered as a direct link to what she had witnessed. Her main regret was the shooting of the young trooper and the owner of the motel. It wasn’t her fault, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to assimilate. No one that came into contact with her was safe; especially Logan, who’d taken it upon himself to see this through to what would more than likely end with more blood being spilt. Should he become a victim, then the guilt she would suffer would be monumental. And she would then never be safe again, but a fugitive on the run, not from the law but from a man whom she did not even know, who wanted her dead. And what she had seen had now been superseded by other events. Logan had sent a recorded confession to the police, made by the man called LaSalle, and so her description of him was no longer crucial to any case that may be made. She should be of no further interest to Cassidy, and yet the armed thugs that had tracked them to Mike Audley’s cabin had fully intended to kill both her and Logan. And Logan’s reason for helping her appeared to be purely because she needed it. He had no ulterior motive, had not hit on her, and so was, to her way of thinking, what the meaning of being noble was all about. Not many strangers would put their own lives on the line to protect someone they didn’t even know. He could have just walked out of police headquarters and vanished. He had been passing through New Orleans and had no family or other reason to keep him there.

  “So let’s go,” Logan said, picking up his rucksack and walking out into the sunshine.

  “I can’t let you buy me clothes,” Ellie Mae said as she followed him to the truck.

  “Yes you can,” Logan said. “I’ve got money I don’t need, and will probably have a lot more this evening.”

  “From where?”

  “Cassidy. I think he owes us a great deal of compensation for the discomfort, danger and inconvenience he’s put us to.”

  “And you think that he’ll suddenly want to pay you instead of kill you on sight?”

  Logan gave her a wry smile as he started up the truck and drove east along Tchoupitoulas Street to the riverside Walmart Supercenter and said, “He wants to live, Ellie, and is being put in a position that he believes is a threat to him and his family. Being a scumbag that thinks he’s a wise guy, he expects other people to have the same total lack of morality as him. You’ve got to use a person’s beliefs as a weapon against them.”

  “But you wouldn’t harm his family, would you?”

  “No, but the important thing is that he believes that I would, and that I’ve now got a team to help me do it.”

  “Sounds high risk to me, assuming what he’ll think and do.”

  “Life is high risk. You go through it making ends meet and watching TV and going out with friends and having relationships, and then all of a sudden it’s over, and Christ knows what it was all about, and maybe it doesn’t matter.”

  “Is that why you’re so…so insular and choose to be alone?”

  “Maybe. It’s nice to do what you want, when you want, and not be beholding to anyone, unless you choose to be. I let life happen and drift like a message in a bottle, without any constraint. I just let the tide take me where it will, and ignore all the shit that doesn’t really affect me and that I don’t have to address. I’ve got my views on most things, but have no need to bounce them off other people. Their opinions, beliefs and choice of lifestyle are irrelevant to me.”

  “So why did you get involved with this…with me?”

  “I went for a meal with a nice guy, and I got knocked out and woke up with a gun in my hand. The trucker I was with had been shot dead. If I’d been black I would have most likely been shot, but being white I was told to lose the gun, which I did. I was basically accused of being part of what had gone down. That gave me the incentive to become involved, and you were a part of it and at risk.”

  “I’m sorry that any of this happened,” Ellie Mae said. “But I’m glad that you’re here for me. If you hadn’t b
een I’d be dead.”

  Logan parked in the Walmart lot and gave Ellie Mae three hundred dollars, then went to the coffee shop while she headed for the clothing aisles to buy underwear, a blouse, skirt and a pair of shoes, which she changed into and wore, and dumped the tee and jeans that Mike had given her in a trash can. She immediately felt better, and enjoyed a sandwich and a soda with Logan, feeling more feminine and less perturbed than she had done in days.

  “You really think that this will all work out?” Ellie Mae said as they headed back to the motel via a location that Logan needed to familiarize himself with.

  “We’ll be fine,” Logan said. “Trust me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  HEATHER walked back to the mall and used the phone in the office at the rear of the boutique to call Nathan.

  “Can I get back to you, honey?” Nathan said. “I’m in the middle of a meeting.”

  “No, you can’t get back to me,” Heather said. “And who the fuck is Logan?”

  Nathan got up from his chair and told the board members of his restaurant chain that he had to take the call, and that he would be back soon. He left the office and walked along a short corridor to look out at the river as Heather ranted on about having been accosted by some jumped-up nigger who’d basically threatened her.

  “I could’ve been shot dead in my car in broad daylight,” Heather said. “He told me that someone called Logan was meeting you over some business transaction and that if anything happened to him, then Lindsey, Joanne and I would be killed.”

  “I’ll deal with it,” Nathan said. “Nobody is going to get hurt. This is just a misunderstanding that―”

  “Misunderstanding my ass, Nate. Whatever crooked little deal you’re involved in has put us all at risk of being fucking murdered. The piece of shit-colored lowlife that waylaid me said that a team had flown in to back this Logan character up.”

  “He waited till six p.m. and then phoned Cassidy, and smiled as it rang at least ten times before being answered. The guy was attempting to be blasé and act unimpressed by Logan and the state of play.