A Dark Horse

by Cooper, Blayne

  “Is that important?”

  “Jay Morrell’s always been assigned to Tremé. Still is. Only now he’s a sergeant here.” And if he catches us doing something illegal and tries to lay a hand on either of us, this night is going to end in the emergency room. “I heard from Al that Morrell got promoted about a year ago.”

  “Promoted?” Natalie blinked owlishly. “How can that be? Wasn’t he one of the cops who lost his job after the investigation?”

  “He was exonerated.” Even now when Adele thought of the good men who’d been forced out of the NOPD, and the fact that Officer Morrell had survived the nuclear winter like the proverbial roach that he was, fury surged through her.

  Natalie’s mouth opened and closed helplessly. “Wh-what? How? Argh! Bullshit!”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Adele glanced down the street, every part of her itching with nervous energy as she contemplated what answers might lay inside Misty’s tiny rental house. “Let’s go. Stay right behind me.”

  Natalie nodded, and they both exited the car.

  The street was dark but surprisingly loud. Music of all genres poured out of the houses and from passing cars, the vehicles threatening to shake apart from the vibrating bass. Raised voices, some laughing and some yelling, slamming doors, and barking dogs made the block feel as though it pulsed with life as they threaded their way between the houses.

  Adele gripped her cane tightly, hoping not to have to use it on one of the barking dogs that sounded terrifyingly close. She peered inside one of Misty’s side windows, thankful her fellow residents seemed to eschew curtains and ignore their plantation shutters, and unsure whether or not she was hoping to find Kurt Mosley at home.

  But there was a man inside the house, wearing nothing but a pair of ratty boxer shorts. He gave off a mangy vibe that some women actually liked, and Adele could never truly understand, and had the body of a hardcore marathon runner.

  Beer bottle in hand, he tore the room apart, obviously searching for something. Thankfully, he looked relatively harmless, or at least without a place to hide a weapon on his body.

  Adele narrowed her eyes. Hoped he was gone, she decided with a distinct sense of disappointment. “Okay, no burglary tonight.”

  Natalie nodded, looking relieved and just a little bit guilty for even contemplating it. “What now?”

  Adele shrugged. “Now we knock on the door.” Before Natalie could ask anything else, Adele headed toward the front steps, only lightly leaning on her cane.

  She gave the door several very firm knocks with her closed fist.

  “What are you doing?” Natalie hissed. “This isn’t a raid.”

  Adele blinked, not understanding what the problem was until she remembered that regular, non-law enforcement people didn’t bang on the door of someone’s home. “Sorry.”

  The porch light flicked on and when the door swung open, Kurt Mosley’s glassy-eyed expression swiftly changed from furious to pleased, especially when his eyes lit on Natalie. His movements were lethargic and just this side of sloppy. He hiccupped. “Well, hel-lo.”

  Adele rolled her eyes. She hated dealing with drunks. “Aw, crap.”

  “Kurt Mosley?” Natalie inquired politely.

  The man appeared to be in his early twenties and maybe five foot nine. His tangled rust-colored hair was a few inches too long to be stylish, and he was perilously thin with freckles covering every inch of exposed skin. He openly leered at Natalie and pulled an ugly purple afghan he had wrapped around his shoulders a little closer. “Who’s askin’, honey?”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Adele abruptly inserted herself between Natalie and Kurt. “We’re friends of Misty and would like to ask you a few questions.” She tacked on an unconvincing, “okay?” to make it sound a bit more like she was asking and not ordering.

  Kurt gave Adele a disgusted look. “Hell, no. I’m done talkin’ to cops. You assholes already tore the place apart, and now I can’t find a goddamned thing!”

  He was in the process of closing his door when Adele inserted her cane between the door and the frame. She scowled and did her best not to grind her teeth. She might as well have a neon sign around her neck that said cop. “I’m not with the NOPD.”

  Natalie stuck her head around Adele’s shoulder to speak. She smiled brightly, and Kurt instantly mirrored her. “We’re not the police, I promise. As my friend said, we’re friends of Misty.”

  Kurt reluctantly opened the door fully and then moved forward out of his doorway. He effectively backed them to the limit of the tiny porch, his anxious stare darting between the women and lingering on the scar on Adele’s face before moving suspiciously out to the street beyond them. “Since when?”

  Adele’s pulse began to climb. He’s too close.

  “For years. Since she knew my brother Josh.”

  His eyes suddenly overflowed with anger and his mild-looking face contorted into something truly scary. “The dead boyfriend? Christ, I’m so sick of him,” he wailed, swinging his arms so wildly that beer sloshed over his hand, the pungent scent filling the air. “Misty was always talking about him. Josh was so talented on the clarinet. Josh was so nice! Josh was so funny!” he mimicked in a falsetto voice. It was obvious that he’d forgotten that the women hadn’t even introduced themselves yet.

  Natalie stiffened.

  With more bravado than she felt, Adele gave Kurt a look of warning that must have registered even in his intoxicated state. He quickly backed up half a step, giving her enough space to breathe. “She talked about the night Josh died?” Adele prompted, her emotions swingy wildly as she simultaneously reveled in an unexpected surge of excitement over the hunt and worried that she wouldn’t be able to defend herself and Natalie if needed.

  “No,” he corrected harshly. “She cried ’bout that night, but never talked about it.”

  Like a balloon with a pinprick, Adele deflated, but did her best not to show it. She turned up the collar when a cool breeze cut through the fabric of her jacket. “Not anything?”

  Seemingly unconcerned with the brisk wind, a barefooted Kurt chugged his last few sips of beer, then unceremoniously let the bottle fall from his limp hand. It cracked when it hit the porch, then rolled away and onto a soft patch of grass. “Just that he got hurt and died.” He eagerly stepped sideways to get a better look at Natalie.

  Adele rolled her eyes, but couldn’t exactly blame the guy. Natalie was worth a second and third look.

  “You’re Natalie, right? The lady who was coming down to visit Misty from someplace up north? Iowa or somewhere, right?”

  Adele didn’t quite manage to suppress a snicker at Natalie being called “the lady,” as though she was ancient. But more importantly, Kurt’s use of the word visit implied he didn’t know the real reason Natalie was here. Misty hadn’t told him about her plan to go to the police.

  Natalie gave him a small smile and covertly nudged Adele with her shoulder. “Close enough.”

  Kurt blinked with exaggerated slowness. “The police were askin’ after you.”

  Adele’s gaze sharpened. “What did they want?”

  Kurt waved a dismissive hand. “You know, some stupid bullshit like always. How did Natalie know Misty? Was anythin’ out of place or missing? Was she here to bring Misty drugs? Blah, blah, blah.” He snorted loudly. “Like they even have drugs on goat farms or whatever the fuck they have in Iowa.”

  He tugged up his drooping boxer shorts with one hand, his prominent hipbones only barely holding them up. “Hey, you two wanna come in for a beer? We’ve got a few more. And if we run out, when Misty gets home I can—” Then his bloodshot eyes filled with tears. “Aww, shit.” He hiccupped again. “Never mind.”

  Kurt was a hot mess, but that didn’t keep Adele from experiencing a pang deep in her chest at the sight of his unshed tears.

  “Umm…” Natalie inched even closer to Adele, warming her back. Several teenagers who were walking down the sidewalk a dozen feet away had stopped and were now openly
eavesdropping on their conversation. She whispered into Adele’s ear. “Should we ask to go inside instead of having this conversation on the porch?”

  Adele turned her head slightly and gave Natalie a dubious look. She muttered from the side of her mouth. “I don’t want to be stuck in the house with him, do you?”

  Kurt had gone from talking to them to muttering despondently to himself. He fluctuated wildly between fury and gut-wrenching sadness.

  Natalie shivered against her back.

  “Good point.”

  Adele turned and pointed at the teens on the sidewalk and without an ounce of hesitation barked, “Beat it. Now!”

  After a few nasty comments, that included some profanity so uniquely filthy that Adele was sure she’d be explaining it to Natalie later, the teens lost interest and slowly strolled away, hurling insults as they left. Natalie’s words tickled Adele’s ear.

  “Do you want to come back when Kurt’s sober?”

  “Let’s not give up yet,” Adele muttered quietly. Though he was clearly inebriated, other than being rail thin and a bit unkempt, Kurt didn’t seem to have any of the obvious signs of being a meth addict. Adele still hoped to get some useful information out of him. She consciously softened her demeanor. “Listen, Kurt—”

  “If you haven’t heard…Misty’s dead.” His voice was flat and he sounded utterly lost. “It doesn’t seem real.”

  Natalie sucked in a ragged breath.

  “We heard,” Adele said softly, realizing that if the police had explained that it was Natalie who found Misty’s body, Kurt was too drunk to remember it. “It’s terrible, and we’re truly sorry.”

  Suddenly, Kurt was angry again and his cheeks turned a splotchy red. “She didn’t kill herself!”

  The astoundingly livid look on his face alone caused Natalie to take a giant step backward. He was about to explode.

  Adele reached one open hand back and Natalie grasped it. She squeezed it firmly, trying to assure Natalie that things were okay even though Adele could feel her own uneasiness coiling up within her like a snake that wanted to be free from its cage. And, Natalie, she was sure, was only seconds from bolting.

  Adele willed her voice to remain calm and steady. “How can you be sure, Kurt?”

  “What kind of stupid question is that? I see…I saw her every single day.” He grabbed a tuft of his hair in each hand and pulled down as though his head might pop off if not for his hold. “I would know if she wanted to die!”

  “What about the drugs she was taking?” Natalie asked, joining Adele in her fishing expedition.

  “What drugs? She’s been clean for more than six months. Me too.” Defensive, he let go of his hair, which stayed sticking out and gave him a Bozo the Clown-like hairstyle. He held up two hands as if to ward off Adele. “Yeah, okay, I’ve fallen off the wagon a couple of times, but the little bit of smack the cops found here wasn’t mine. I swear! We used everything we had months ago.” He grunted loudly. “Trust me, we didn’t leave anythin’ behind.”

  Adele kept her voice light, but interested. “If there were drugs here with Misty when the police came, why weren’t you arrested? Are you sure the drugs weren’t yours?”

  Kurt shook his head forcefully. “No way, man! I stay here sometimes, but this isn’t my place.” He shrugged, seemingly as surprised as Adele. “So the cops didn’t arrest me. They said the drugs were Misty’s.”

  “But they weren’t?” Adele prodded a bit more urgently. She’d learned over the years that it was okay to make someone she was interviewing repeat himself again and again. It was amazing how often a slight change in her wording could yield a completely different answer.

  “No!” His eyes widened and he looked confused. “I mean, I don’t think so. I mean, no. She didn’t do that stuff anymore.”

  With a final squeeze, Adele let go of Natalie’s hand, noting that Natalie remained practically glued to her back. “Did Misty keep a diary or journal?”

  He laughed. “You mean one of those things with a lock and a tiny key that stupid middle school-age girls have? No way.”

  “That’s not accurate at all!” Natalie sounded truly and unaccountably upset. “Some highly literate and intelligent adults—”

  “Natalie,” Adele muttered under her breath harshly enough that Natalie got the message and clamped her mouth shut. “Kurt, did Misty have any enemies?”

  “You mean who’d want to murder her?” Kurt clarified brutally as he glared.

  Adele nodded.

  His face relaxed and he stumbled a little as he moved back into the doorway and leaned heavily against it. “Yeah. Totally.”

  Adele did a double take. That wasn’t the answer she expected.

  Kurt grinned with sudden admiration. “Oh, Misty screwed more than one dealer out of product or money over the years. And screwed ’em hard. She knew just how to freakin’ do it, too. Had it down to an art form. And she moved every few months because of it. But she could never leave town.” His smile fell away and his stare grew distant. “She loved the city too much to let it go, even though…even though for years it was killin’ her.”

  He gazed longingly back inside the house…to where the beer was.

  He doesn’t seem violent, Adele told herself. He’s just a drunken idiot. She’ll be okay. Making a split-second decision, she began to shift from one foot to the next. She made a face then moaned loudly.

  Puzzled, Natalie asked, “Are you okay?”

  “No,” Adele whimpered and pressed her thighs together as she twisted like a miserable four-year-old in line at a ladies’ room. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “What?” Natalie asked incredulously, looking at Adele as though she didn’t believe what she was hearing. “Now?”

  “Now.” Adele’s voice was filled with urgency. “I’m not kidding.” She smiled pleadingly at Kurt. “Would you mind—?”

  “Huh?” He looked at Adele, his ginger brows heavily furrowed.

  “Thank you!” Adele gushed, not giving him a chance to say more. “Don’t worry, I’ll find the bathroom myself.” She swept past him as though going into the house had been entirely his idea in the first place.

  “What the—?” Kurt muttered after her, but didn’t follow. Adele heard Natalie pick up the ball by enthusiastically asking Kurt about his favorite beer. She figured she had two minutes before he would come in search of her, or try to kiss Natalie, or figure out that he had no chance in hell with Natalie and get bored. She began counting in her head so she wouldn’t lose track of the time. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.

  Apparently Kurt wasn’t much of a housekeeper. The room smelled sour and like rotten food. Adele tried not to gag. Guiltily, she headed straight to the bedroom in the back the house. She knew Natalie was afraid and now she’d gone and left her alone with a drunken stranger. But this might be her only chance to look for anything Misty could have left behind. Something where Misty might have mentioned more about what happened the night of Josh’s death.

  Adele opened and closed the drawers quickly and quietly, finding nothing but wrinkled clothing and junky trinkets. “Seventy-five Mississippi,” she whispered, moving from place to place and cursing her bad leg. “Shit!” She opened the closet door and had to kick the clothes off her feet as they fell off the top shelf.

  She did a quick sweep of the living room only to come up empty. One-twenty Mississippi, she finished in the bathroom, frowning when nothing turned up there either. Adele flushed the toilet and headed back outside as quickly as her cane would allow.

  Adele returned to the porch to find that Natalie had stepped closer to Kurt and was smiling coyly at him. Natalie hung on his every word.

  He appeared as enchanted as a moonstruck cow.

  “Whew!” Adele said, fanning herself. “That was close. I’m so embarrassed. Kurt, thank you so much. I wouldn’t have made it to a gas station.”

  Natalie instantly sighed in relief and backed away from Kurt, her expression shifting from interested
to wary (tinged with grossed-out) in the blink of an eye.

  Kurt didn’t appear happy at the interruption.

  Knowing that, at most, they had a moment or two more of his attention, Adele hurriedly cut to the chase. “What did Misty say about the night Josh died again?”

  The second his face turned to stone, Adele knew their discussion was over. “I don’t want to talk about him anymore!” And this time Kurt’s invitation was solely aimed at Natalie. “Are you coming in for a drink or what?”

  “No, thank—”

  The slamming door interrupted Natalie’s words.

  * * *

  Natalie and Adele settled comfortably on the sofa in Adele’s living room. Feeling grungy after talking to Kurt, both women had taken hot showers. Natalie had opted to change into sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt, while Adele had changed into yoga pants and a thin zip-up-the-front hoodie.

  A small fire lit the room and provided welcome warmth on the cool night. Georgia was long gone for the evening, and the old Creole home seemed cavernous and quiet with just the two of them inside.

  Adele gingerly tucked her legs up underneath her, and next to her Natalie copied the relaxed pose. They sat close to one another, but not so close that they were touching. “I’m not sure that talking to Kurt helped very much,” Natalie began.

  “Not much,” Adele agreed. She stared at the fire, lost in its golden glow. “It’s hard to believe that Misty told Kurt all those things about Josh, but then completely omitted anything about the night he was killed, don’t you think?”

  Natalie shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea. My family never talks about Josh. I tried to when I first came home from New Orleans after his death and was completely shut down. I guess it’s as simple as it hurts and so we ignore that he’s really gone for good. It’s like he’s just off to college or something, and we pretend to forget about the fact that he’s never coming home again.”

  Heartsick, Adele shifted to face Natalie, her face half cast in dark shadow. “I wanted to find him. I’m so sor—”