“I told you to reconsider,” I said.
“You won’t get far,” Thomas said.
“Long as I get out of this office.”
“My guys won’t let you out of the club.”
I shrugged, “There are a lot of witnesses out there. I don’t think you want to cause a scene.”
“I doubt that will happen. Even if you do, we can just mark you up as a crazed drunk.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I said as I motioned them to move out of the way. I backed up to the door. “Did you kill Lofton?”
“When I get my hands on you, you can ask him personally.”
“Good hunting then.”
I opened the door and left the office. I shut the door and began swiftly walking toward the exit.
“Lisa, where are you?”
“I’m about a mile away.”
“Get here quick. And be ready to leave.”
Jeff Thomas and Jason came out of the office behind me. Thomas was motioning to the other bouncers. He was right they were going to block the main entrance. I decided it was time for an all out run. I put a few tables between myself and Jason, who was coming up on me quickly.
I located an exit sign at the back of the club. It looked like a clear run if I could do it quickly. I bolted toward the exit. Jason pounded the floor behind me. Another large bouncer was coming over the stage at me. I stepped onto an empty chair and jumped over a table in my way. The other bouncer shoved the empty tables aside. I changed direction and I ran across the satellite stage where a blonde had stopped dancing to watch the action.
“Excuse me,” I said as I rushed past her and stepped onto a table full of beer. The two men leaned away from the table as it teetered over spilling beer bottles onto the floor. I charged for the exit.
“I need a ride,” I said hoping Lisa could hear me.
“I’m in the parking lot.”
“I’m going out the side exit,” I screamed as I approached the door.
Suddenly a bouncer appeared to my right only a few feet away. I pulled the clip from the .45 and tossed it toward the crowded tables.
I then tossed the gun to the bouncer who froze in surprise before he caught it. I took the extra second to hurl through the exit. He had regained his composure and followed me through the door. I put all my energy toward sprinting toward the curb when I saw the silver shape of my BMW slide into view.
Lisa had dropped the top and I dove into the open car. The tires screamed as she floored the gas. A shot rang out as she bounced over the curb and hit the street. The tires gripped the street and we shot away from the club.
I peered over the back at the group of bouncers and Jeff Thomas watching our retreat. I leaned back and sighed in relief. I didn’t know if they would give chase now or not, but I was willing to bet that as long as Lisa didn’t slow down, we were safe.
“You sure know how to make friends,” she said.
“Yeah, I guess I can consider myself forever banned from that place,” I said, “I will have to add it to the list of places I can’t go back to.”
“You’ve been banned from other clubs?” she asked.
“Just Disneyland and Graceland.”
“Should I ask why?”
I just smiled and shook my head.
23
I wanted to get some more information on Paul Grace. Lisa had given me the basics, but she really only seemed to know what she had seen on the five o'clock news. Austin Knox had been an old high school friend, but he now worked as a reporter at Channel Seven in Little Rock. I had wanted to call him after Mandy stated she had been with him the night of the murder. I hoped he might be able to give me some more detailed information about Paul Grace's activities.
Once I let Lisa off at her car, I decided to give Austin a call. I hadn't talked to Austin in over four years, so it took a minute to track down a number through directory assistance. I dialed and waited for an answer.
"Hello."
"Austin, this is Max Sawyer. Sorry, it's so late."
"Max! How's it going?" His voice perked up, "You calling about Mandy?"
"Yeah, you heard, huh?"
"The state police called me late Friday to ask me about her. I don't think I was able to help her much."
"Don't worry; I am working on another angle. In fact, I need some help."
"Absolutely," Austin said.
"Mark Lofton seemed to be neck deep in some serious problems."
"Really," Austin's voiced peeked with journalistic curiosity.
"Yeah, but let's keep this quiet for now. Off the record, if we want to help Mandy."
"Sure, what do you need from me?
"I think Paul Grace is involved. I know he is a bit of a gangster, but I need to know some more dirt on him. Any connections he has to J.T.’s Club or its owner, Jeff Thomas."
"Paul Grace!" Austin seemed surprised. "What have you gotten yourself into?"
I slowed the car as I turned toward the marina.
I continued to explain, "I don't know how involved he is, but I have a good idea that it is probably more involvement than I would like."
"Max, throw me a bone. What's going on? How much trouble is Mandy in?"
I sighed, "Mark Lofton was working at J.T.'s Club recently. I suppose as the manager. Anyway, there was an undetermined amount of money stolen from the club. Paul Grace seemed extremely concerned that his money had not been found. The buzz is that Lofton stole the money."
"Can I have a little time?" Austin asked.
"Don't take too long."
I hung up with Austin as I parked in the marina lot. I climbed out of the car and stood quietly in the moonlight. The night air was cool, and the stars reflected brightly on the river.
I started walking toward the boat. A sharp, loud crack resounded from the woods near the parking lot. My head swung quickly, and the hair on my neck stood on end. I scanned the dark woods for any movement. I saw nothing, but my instincts were certainly on red alert.
I was suddenly overcome with the desire to not have the living crap beaten out of me in my sleep. I moved back to my car and pulled the pistol from beneath my seat. I walked cautiously toward the boat, holding the gun so it was obvious to anyone within 100 yards.
Once I was on the boat, I turned back toward the woods and watched for anything. I knew I was probably over-reacting, but I was still sore from last night's thrashing and my 100-yard sprint through the club.
Mandy was watching television when I came through the cabin. I had slipped my gun into my waistband. I didn't want to scare Mandy too much.
"What did you find out?" she asked.
I sat down next to her. "A lot. I'm just not sure what to do with it yet."
Mandy straightened on the couch. She turned off the television. I opted to leave Lisa out of the tale, but I gave her the main gist of the events. I told her about the club, the drugs, the girls, and the money. She sat and stared blankly as I talked.
"How long has he been working there?" her eyes watered.
"I don't know. For a while I think."
A tear welled in the corner of her eye before sliding down her cheek.
"I didn't know him at all."
I put my arm around her. She curled up in my arms and quietly cried. I sat quietly stroking her arms as she cried.
After a few minutes had passed, Mandy's tears had stopped. I looked at my watch. It was nearly eleven, and I could feel the entire day catching up to me. I was beat.
"Why don't you get some rest?" I told Mandy.
"How about you?"
"I think I need a drink."
Mandy tugged at my arm, "No, I don't want to be alone. Don't leave me."
I could feel the cold steel of the pistol. I was anxious with the idea of someone outside waiting to catch me asleep. However, I was too tired to resist, and I followed Mandy to bed.
24
I awoke some time later. The soft glow of the clock showed it to be about three o'clock. I felt immensely refresh
ed. Mandy lay next to me, her bare arm resting on my chest. My mind clicked along like the reel on a fishing rod. I had an idea in my sleep that was now about to breach. Mark Lofton's bank account, his sudden and recent nuptials to Leigh Rozen, Jeff Thomas, Paul Grace, and Mandy. They were all swimming together.
The stripper thought Lofton had only stolen a few thousand, but according to Lisa, there was almost a hundred grand floating around Lofton's bank account. The differences were astronomical. How much was really stolen? Half a million? More?
Mark Lofton may have had a few mental flaws, but anyone smart enough to steal that much money surely wouldn't just put it into his own account. Unless he wasn't smart enough to steal it. If Lofton didn't steal the money, then the money in his account was a ruse. An illusion. The real money was somewhere else. In the words of the great detective Sam Spade, someone may have played Lofton for a sap. In my experience, only a woman could play a man like that.
I slid Mandy's arm off my chest. I sat up slowly on the bed and reached for my clothes. I dressed quickly and quietly slipped off the boat.
25
I pulled into the driveway to see the sign for Herbs and More. I had an inkling that perhaps Leigh Rozen had married Lofton and then helped (or encouraged) him to steal the money.
Leigh Rozen may not have been the cracked-out whore she appeared. She was probably privy to information that her ex-husband did not realize. Mark Lofton could easily have been the patsy for her to relieve her husband of assets that alimony would not have given her.
Unfortunately for her, someone probably came to collect. Since I found her so quickly, I hoped the killer didn't have time to get it. The biggest flaw in my logic was a lingering question. Why would the killer alert the police to my presence at the scene? The police might find the money. Unless the money wasn't here, or it was hidden where the police would never find it.
If the money wasn't here then this trip would be fruitless. On the other hand, if the money was here then it was most likely not near the house. Besides the house was roped off as a crime scene; I wouldn't want an obstruction of justice charge levied against me.
I got out of my car and let my eyes adjust to the dark. I reached into my back pocket to retrieve a small Mag-Lite. I began canvassing the field behind the trailer. I had no clue exactly what to be looking for, but I still continued to look for it. I was betting that whoever killed Leigh Rozen had come from the back side.
The tree line bordered the field about a hundred yards behind the trailer. As I got closer, the light flashed on my quarry, an overgrowth that had been trampled. The brush concealed a trail that was probably used by four-wheelers or dirt bikes. This county, like many rural areas, had trails like this one zigzagging from one place to another. As a kid, I used to spend hours and sometimes days hiking through the woods along similar trails. Some of these trails skirted mountains along valleys for miles. This would easily have provided access to the trailer without being seen from the road.
I had travelled less than 50 feet into the woods when my flashlight illuminated something just off the path. I stepped across a thorn bush and knelt down. A cigarette butt lay atop a dead leaf. I lifted it to examine it closer. In tiny script around the filter was the name, Dunhill.
I stood and looked toward the trailer. From this spot, there was a clear view of the trailer and drive. Now I was certain I had a clear view of Leigh Rozen's killer, Charlie Nichols.
I was confused. I had seen no connections to the lawyer. Of course, I had not seen any firm connections to anyone else. I began to feel I had been chasing the wrong rabbit.
The moonlight sprayed across the field casting eerily beautiful shadows. I clicked the flashlight and let the shadows surround me. My heart skipped as I saw a figure in the field approaching.
I dropped to my knees and peered through the brush. I realized that I had left my gun in the car, and I mentally kicked myself.
Whoever was out there was coming toward me. I sighed with relief when I heard my name shouted.
"Max," the voice belonged to Lisa.
I stood up and snapped the flashlight to spread light toward the path. I weaved my way back to the path and walked out of the woods.
I pocketed the cigarette butt, deciding to hold back until I determined why Lisa was out here at four in the morning. Lisa trudged through the tall grass toward me.
"You aren't going to try to shoot me again?" Lisa asked.
"Not today. What are you doing here?"
"I couldn't sleep. I wanted to investigate here to see if I could find anything."
"Like the money?"
Lisa tried to act surprised, but the game was over for us. Lisa was along for the ride whether I liked it or not. In hindsight, I think I liked the idea of having someone along to offer another perspective. "Yes," she said, "it occurred to me that Mark might have left the money hidden with his new wife. Maybe Paul Grace had them both
killed."
"Except," I interrupted, "that he still seemed extremely concerned about finding his money. I doubt he would have killed them without getting it back first."
"Well, it could be to prove a point. Don't steal from him."
I pulled the cigarette butt from my pocket and handed it to her. "I think I know who killed Leigh Rozen."
Lisa peered at the butt and said, "Dunhill?"
"Unusual brand," I replied, "Charlie Nichols smokes them."
Lisa's eyes widened in surprise, "Where did you find it?"
"Back along that trail," I flashed the light toward the trail head.
"I think he may have used this path to get to the trailer without anyone noticing him.
"Where does it go?" Lisa asked.
"I'm not sure. How do you feel about a little late night hike?"
Lisa smiled, "That's exactly how I lost my virginity."
I laughed, "I heard it was under the stage in high school during the second act of a Midsummer Night's Dream."
Lisa smirked, "No, that was something altogether different."
"I knew I had missed my chance."
Lisa took the flashlight from my hands and headed in the direction of the trail.
"Don't kid yourself," she said over her shoulder, "You never had a chance."
I stepped in line behind her and shot a retort her direction, "That's not what I told the drama department."
"There you have it. That explains how I got ‘under the stage.’"
I chuckled as we entered the dark woods. Crickets and frogs were singing loudly to us as we marched through the brush.
"Why Charlie Nichols?" Lisa asked.
"I have no clue."
"What about the money? Does he have it?"
"I haven't seen any connections to him and the money."
Lisa sighed, "There must be something. We will have to find it."
"We may have to start at square one."
"At least," Lisa said with assurance, "there might be enough contrary evidence to get Mandy off the hook."
"Too bad her attorney is our prime suspect."
We hiked through the woods for nearly 45 minutes. Suddenly the trail opened into a clearing. Tire tracks and ruts crisscrossed the clearing so that there was no grass or vegetation. The clearing was surrounded by trees except a small opening that allowed the cars to get here. A second passed, and car lights passed on the other side of the trees.
"I know where we are," mumbled Lisa.
It felt familiar to me, but I wasn't sure.
"That's Highway 16," Lisa pointed to where the car had just past us.
"Right," I said, "the movie theater is down the mountain there. This is a prime make-out spot."
"So I hear."
I smiled at Lisa.
Lisa started to walk around the clearing. "So he parked here," she said to herself.
"Probably so."
"He knew the trail was here. Knew where it leads."
I nodded, "He planned this out. He had to know his car could only be seen by someone in th
is clearing. It's virtually invisible from the highway."
"Perhaps we can find someone who was here. There are always kids coming in and out of here."
"No one would have noticed an empty car. Besides Leigh was killed in the afternoon, it was probably deserted until later." I wanted to look around. Try to find another cigarette or something more tangible.
We searched in the dark, but our quest only unearthed two pairs of panties, three dried up condoms, an empty fifth of Jack Daniels, and about ten assorted beer cans and bottles. This was the only evidence that someone had an extremely good time back here.
26
After our fruitless search ended, we decided it was best to get back to the trailer. We trudged back through the woods. The night was slowly fading into the early morning. By the time we reached the trailer the sun had begun to rise.
Once we arrived at our cars, Lisa said, "Since you bought me dinner last night, how about letting me buy you breakfast?"
I looked at my watch. It was 5:46 a.m. I was a bit tired, but also hungry. On top of that, I have a rule: Never refuse a beautiful woman's invitation to breakfast.
"Where are you going to take me?" I asked.
"The Red Rooster. Just follow me."
The Red Rooster had been the breakfast spot for most of the early risers in Hellenston since before I was born. Jean and Marty Durange owned the diner that sat just off Main Street behind the courthouse. Marty did the cooking, and Jean did the serving. A slew of their kids and grandkids had worked there over the years.
I had a strong fondness and memory for Marty's French toast. Dad and I would grab breakfast there on Saturdays before going fishing down the river. I hadn't eaten there in over ten years. I didn't realize how hungry I actually was until I started to drive. I suppose it was the memories, but suddenly a few slices of French toast slathered in butter and coated in syrup sounded quite delectable.
As I followed Lisa along the curving highway, I felt the cool mountain breeze whisk past me. A light mist ascended just above the trees, and the day felt invigorating.
Blood Remembered Page 9