L.A. Kornetsky - Gin & Tonic 03 - Doghouse

by L. A. Kornetsky

  Then he pulled up hard, feeling Ginny nearly crash into him, because Stacy had the bat in her hands, standing over a prone body, with Seth on his knees next to the guy; Seth was breathing hard and swearing, the same four-syllable word over and over again.

  Penny, her tail flicking back and forth in irritation, was sitting on the bar and staring down in disgust at all the humans. Parsifal was curled up next to her, his entire body shaking, but his eyes bright as he watched the activity around him.

  Only after he’d taken in that his people—and the animals—were safe did Teddy realize that there were other people in the bar. He identified most of the patrons as regulars, shoved up against the far wall with expressions that ranged from terrified to outright amused.

  “Everyone okay?” he asked, his gaze including everyone in the question.

  “We got this, boss,” Stacy said, her cheerful tone at odds with the way the bat was shaking in her hands, now that the adrenaline rush seemed to be wearing off. The figure at her feet stirred, as though to object, and she dropped the bat point-down to poke him in the shoulder. “Don’t you move, you ass.”

  “Seth?”

  “Yeah, boss.” The old man sounded winded, and pissed-off. “I’m getting too old for this shit. This used to be a quiet joint.”

  That earned him a snicker from someone. The last time they’d had trouble at Mary’s, Seth hadn’t stopped grumbling for a week because he’d missed all the action.

  “What happened?” Ginny kept Georgie on the leash, rather than letting her roam the way the dog usually did inside Mary’s, and started walking a careful half circle around Seth and the stranger until she reached the bar and was able to reach out a hand to Parsifal. The dog uncurled himself enough to sniff at her, then scrambled along the bar, almost knocking Penny over in his eagerness to be picked up and cuddled.

  “Fuck you,” the guy on the floor mumbled.

  Stacy glared at him, and gripped the bat more securely. “This guy called, said he’d heard we had a dog that was looking for a home. He used your name. I thought you’d sent him.”

  “No.”

  “Well, I know that now. He didn’t seem to have a clue about dogs at all, acting weird, and Parsifal didn’t like him, did you, baby?”

  “So you clubbed him?”

  “Bitch is crazy,” the guy on the floor moaned, and Seth, who had just gotten to his feet, kicked him in the ribs. “Respect for the girl who just whupped your ass,” the boxer advised.

  “Parsi bit him, but only ’cause he was spooked, and he hit Parsifal—hard! Then Penny jumped on his head.” Stacy was indignant, but proud. “And then I hit him.”

  “And Seth, being the only practical one around here, tied him up,” Teddy said, finally noting that the guy’s feet and hands were bound with what looked like… “Seriously, duct tape?”

  Seth shrugged. “He tried to hit Stacy.”

  “I ducked,” she said proudly, and the old man shook his head, his earlier praise set aside in favor of scolding. “Not fast enough. You haven’t been practicing.”

  “I’ve been busy!”

  “Yes, and you get busy and you get sloppy. I—”

  “Guys? Not now.” Teddy reached down and hauled the guy up by the collar. It was a showboaty move, but one that usually impressed idiots. The guy was in his early twenties, muscular but wiry, his facial hair straggly, the skin around his watery blue eyes unwrinkled. His gaze skittered away from Teddy’s, then came back, reluctantly. Defiant but not stupid: he knew he was screwed.

  “Normally I’m a mellow kind of guy,” Teddy said conversationally. “But you came into my bar, and you were a jerk. You hit a puppy, man. Seriously? I’m not even a dog person and that pisses me off.”

  The guy opened his mouth, but Teddy shook his head, stopping whatever he was about to say. “Nuh-uh. Now, I have a couple of options. I can call the cops, and file a complaint. Or we can have a nice little conversation about who sent you, and why, after which I will just throw your ass to the curb and warn you against ever coming near this place or these people again. Your call.”

  He let the guy’s feet touch ground, but kept hold of his collar, just in case the guy decided to make a run for it. Georgie could probably take him down before he reached the door, and if not, then Stacy looked more than ready to do it, but Teddy’d rather this was settled in a less messy manner. They’d already had quite enough fuss for the day.

  “You came here about the dog. Why?”

  “Look, man, I was just hired to do a job, okay?”

  “Okay,” Teddy said agreeably. “What job?”

  “To get the dog. I was going to pay for it, I swear. Money’s in my pocket.”

  “And then what were you supposed to do with the dog?”

  Silence.

  Teddy tugged at the collar, just enough to get his attention.

  “Put it down,” the guy mumbled, obviously aware that the answer wasn’t going to win him any fans.

  “Why?”

  “Man, I don’t know! All right? Some guy calls me, offers me cash money to get rid of a dog. What do I care?”

  “Some guy you’ve never heard from before offers you money and you take it?”

  “Okay, so yeah, I’ve maybe seen him ’round before, you know? A few times. At the gym, talkin’ to people.”

  Teddy lifted his head and met Ginny’s look across the bar. Odds of it being a different gym than the one they’d just come from were, he suspected, ridiculously low.

  “Describe this guy.”

  That seemed to be another breaking point. “Man, I…”

  “I will call the cops,” Teddy said, his words bitten off with boarding-school-taught enunciation. “And I bet that everyone in here—being of the dog-loving persuasion—will swear that you assaulted that young lady when she tried to defend the puppy. Hitting a dog, hitting a girl… you think that gets you cred in jail?”

  When in doubt, hit their machismo. “Fuck, man. I don’t know. He was short, blond, pale. Maybe in his forties? Starting to go bald. Cold eyes, you didn’t ask questions or give him grief, you just took what he was offering and said ‘yes, sir,’ you know what I mean?”

  Yeah. Teddy knew.

  Ginny nodded once when he looked at her again, then shook her head. He took that to mean that she didn’t have any other questions he should ask. He pulled the guy up by the collar again, his other hand grabbing the back of his jeans, and hauled him out the door, which a customer cheerfully held open for them. The urge to actually toss him was there, but instead Teddy set him on his feet, if ungently, and let go.

  “Take your money and if the guy asks, the deed is done. I see you again, here or anywhere else in the city, and I will break both of your arms, got it?”

  Teddy didn’t wait for an answer, but went back inside, closing the door firmly behind him. The moment it clicked shut, he got a round of applause.

  “Yeah, yeah, save it. Everyone okay? Stace, next round’s on the house.”

  That got another round of applause from the patrons, who seemed to think that the entire event had been for their entertainment. Teddy shook his head. No matter where you worked, some things stayed the same.

  “Why didn’t you call the cops?” Stacy demanded. “He should go to jail!”

  “Because this is related to the case, to what’s going on with Deke,” Teddy told her. “If he’s arrested, whoever’s behind this might close up shop and disappear. We can’t risk that, not yet. Anyway, they weren’t going to arrest him just for hitting a dog. Sorry, Stace.”

  Stacy wasn’t pleased, but she nodded reluctantly and went off to collect orders for the house’s round.

  “If they wanted to get rid of the dog badly enough to try this, odds just went up that the fire was deliberate, too. Not to get rid of Deke, but any evidence they might have left behind.” That also meant
that the other dogs were probably dead, too, or already sold. And any other dogs in other houses? Probably. He said as much to Ginny, quietly.

  “Something spooked them enough to make them close up shop. This kind of a breeding mill may not be illegal, but I’ll bet there’s something on the wrong side of borderline going on, so they’re not going to take a chance on getting caught.”

  “Taxes, maybe,” Ginny said. “I bet the dogs are all bought for cash. And… they might be selling some of them to the dogfighters?”

  “Maybe. Probably. Christ, what a mess.”

  “The guy you let go, he’s not going to tell whoever hired him what happened?”

  “No. If he gets asked at all he’s going to say it all went according to plan. He doesn’t want trouble, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to risk the money being taken back. So we’ve got some breathing room.”

  “Hang on, I’m confused,” Seth said, breaking into their conversation. “He came here for the dog? They’re willing to do all this for a dog? For that dog?” Seth’s face wrinkled in worry, making him bear a disturbing resemblance to Georgie. “What about Deke, if these people are that crazy, is Deke gonna be okay?”

  “He should be,” Ginny said, which probably wasn’t entirely comforting. “But let’s just leave him where he is for now, out of sight and safe, okay?”

  “You might want to check up and make sure everything’s good on that end, though,” Teddy suggested.

  Ginny considered that. “Yeah, when she finishes up for the day—she turns off her phone when she’s painting. You think I should tell them? About all this?”

  He shrugged, then nodded. “She’s your friend, you know her better, but it sounds like she’s got a solid head on. But we should probably keep Deke out of the loop.”

  “Ya think?” she muttered in a nearly perfect imitation of Seth, and it made the man in question snort in amusement.

  “So, we re-hired?” she asked him.

  “Idiots,” Seth muttered, and stalked back into the kitchen.

  “Not that I should be asking this, after the crap I’ve seen already, but what are you guys into?” Stacy asked when she came back, ducking under the bar to start filling orders. “Is it dangerous? I mean—obviously. But should we call the cops?” Her earlier bravado had muted.

  Ginny picked Parsifal up and cradled the puppy in her arms, resting her chin on the top of his head, and didn’t answer. Teddy looked down and saw Georgie was leaning against Ginny’s legs, while Penny had reclaimed her position on the top shelf of the bar, staring down at him with wide green eyes. He wondered if all of this made any more sense from up there.

  “Something we’re going to get out of,” he said, answering her first question first. “As soon as we make sure Deke’s in the clear. If you want to take the rest of the night off… and why the hell are you here, anyway? Jon was on schedule.”

  She drew herself up and glared at him. “He called in sick, so Seth called me because you were, and I quote, ‘off doin’ damn fool things.’ And tell me you did not just suggest I should run home and hide under the sofa.”

  “I did not just suggest that you run home and hide under the sofa,” he said obediently. “But I am going to ask that you stay behind the bar the rest of the night, okay? Anyone else comes in, let me handle it.”

  She chewed on her lip, then nodded. “Yeah, you can get the next one, that’s fair.”

  13

  The black sedan pulled to the curb a few feet away from Mary’s entrance, the driver putting the car in neutral while his passenger got out, removing his suit jacket and placing it carefully back in the car.

  “It’s all right, Stephen,” the man said, not looking back. “I’ll call you when I wish to return.”

  The driver was clearly unhappy, but nodded and rolled up his window, driving away. His former passenger studied the renovated storefront for a moment, taking in the relative quiet of the side street. Most of the stores were closed for the evening now, another establishment down the street emitting a welcoming glow to match that from the bar in front of him, with patrons occasionally coming in and out, singly or in small groups.

  “Excellent location. Nicely peaceful atmosphere, removed enough from the hustle and bustle that you can relax without feeling isolated or off the grid, upscale but not ritzy or overtly trendy. Good demographics.” He turned and studied the rest of the street, taking in the mature trees along the curb, the quiet sounds of traffic from the main avenue, the lights coming on in the apartments above some of the storefronts. “I really should come down here more often.”

  But first, there was business to conduct.

  “I’m looking for Theodore Tonica?”

  The bartender, a young woman who looked too skinny to be healthy, gave him a deadpan stare and hooked her head downward, as though to say she’d never heard the name, but her eyes flicked to the left and downward, a sure giveaway. He smiled and accepted his seltzer and lime, leaving a tip that was too large for the charge, but not so much as to be offensive, and then turned in the direction she had unwittingly indicated.

  The bar was reasonably busy for early on a Monday evening, confirming his original valuation, but the prime table by the window held only two people, despite there being room for more. A shift of shadows at their feet drew his attention, and he saw the dog lying at the woman’s feet, apparently sound asleep.

  The same dog that had been described to him as entering the vet’s office, with the purloined puppy.

  That confirmed his suspicion, and he walked toward them with a conscious grace, pausing when he reached a polite distance from the table. “Mr. Tonica. And Ms. Mallard, I presume?”

  They both gave him a once-over. They didn’t speak, but he could practically feel the exchange flash between them before the man turned his body so that he faced him—giving the woman room to pull back, out of the conversational spotlight.

  “And you are?”

  “My name is Lewis Hollins.” He was gratified to see a reaction. He so disliked dealing with people who did not do their homework. “I would like to discuss a matter of interest to all three of us, if I may join you?”

  Ginny made it a matter of pride that she wasn’t often creeped out. She could be disturbed by something, or upset, and she was often angered, but there wasn’t much in her daily life that creeped her. But this guy? Was way up on the creep-o-meter.

  On the surface, he looked perfectly respectable. He was wearing a white dress shirt, properly buttoned and unstained, with a solid blue tie that was loosened at the neck but still showing a properly tied knot, plus he had a steady gaze that kept to their faces, never dropping below her neckline. There was nothing to set off a warning note, no reason she felt creeper vibes crawling up the back of her neck.

  Except that his gaze was cold, assessing, and matched too perfectly a description she’d heard only a few hours before. And oh, yeah, she thought, he was in the puppy mill business.

  “Please.” She forced her tone into equal civility. “Do sit down.”

  Across the table from her, Tonica let a startled glance reach her before he looked down again, getting control of his features. She tried to reassure him that she knew what she was doing, but the truth was that she was winging it, utterly. Still, if the guy who might be behind their current problems came down here to talk to them, who were they to refuse? Better on their own turf than somewhere else, especially with Stacy—and the baseball bat—behind the bar. There was also a gun in a lockbox, but she didn’t think that would be needed. She hoped to hell it wouldn’t be needed.

  “I believe that we have a mutual interest in a situation that should be resolved before things, well, devolve.”

  Hollins smiled, and Ginny recognized a predator when she saw one. She let her mouth curve up in what she hoped was an answering, equally predatory smile. Tonica might be good at talking to people, but she
spent most of her time negotiating, one way or the other. She had this.

  “If by situation you mean where a friend of ours has been taken advantage of, and entangled in something he should not have been—and suffered for it? Then I’m afraid that your definition of devolve is rather different than mine. Because it’s already well past that point.”

  She let the smile drop, but kept her gaze locked with his, refusing to look away.

  Hollins’s eyes tightened slightly, but his pleasant expression did not otherwise change. Challenge accepted. “Yes, I heard about the fire. Regrettable. I was relieved to hear that no one had been harmed.”

  Ginny tilted her head, as though she wasn’t sure that she had heard him correctly. “Homeless, and losing all his possessions, you don’t consider that harm?”

  “Homes and possessions may be replaced, Ms. Mallard.”

  And there was the real opening salvo. Ginny leaned in slightly, keeping her weight off her elbows, and shook her head. “And what about a man’s reputation? Can that be replaced, too?”

  She risked a glance at Tonica, whose eyes had gotten a little wide, but who otherwise seemed content to sit there and let them bat the verbal volleys back and forth. A familiar tension filled her gut, but it was a more useful one than the directionless unease they’d been dealing with before.

  Hollins did not smile, which might have been showmanship, but she respected his effort to not try to patronize or downplay her comment. “It is… regrettable that his landlord jumped to certain assumptions, when he became aware of the source of your client’s revenue stream. The houses we use were selected with an eye toward their owners’ . . . benign negligence. We did not anticipate his becoming a proactive landlord. That was our mistake.”

  Ginny didn’t do anything as inelegant as snort, but it floated, unvoiced, between them.

  “Sadly,” Hollins went on, “the damage has been done. I am prepared to offer suitable compensation for the inconvenience. And, perhaps, do you a good turn, as well.”

  “You’re trying to buy us off?” Tonica sounded less outraged and more amused. She remembered again that he’d come from money—come from it, and walked away. Yeah, probably not going to be enough money to buy his silence, not unless he’d already decided to be silent and then he was too much a Boy Scout to accept the money.