by P. A. Wilson
He reached for her knee and patted it. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope he’ll be okay. You don’t need more family trauma. I don’t think that’s all, though. Keep talking.”
Monique knew she should just tell him, but the words were too hard to get out. “I can’t remember how much I told you about the murder, or rather murders.”
“You should probably start at the beginning. Pretend I don’t know anything.”
Monique told Rafe everything that had happened over the last few days. As she heard the story unfold, she realized how bad it sounded. Living it had been harrowing, but hearing it was almost worse. Halfway through Rafe moved to the couch and wrapped her in his arms. The rest of her words were spoken into his chest. “So I don’t know what to do. The cops aren’t interested. I can’t just sit back and wait for these guys to decide I need killing.”
He pulled back to look in her eyes. “Just because they aren’t keeping you up-to-date doesn’t mean that the police aren’t investigating. Call them and tell them what you saw. Let them deal with it. They have guns and training.”
“And if they don’t take it seriously?”
“You won’t know until you call. Do that and we’ll figure out the next steps.”
She felt the reluctance crawling back into her gut. “I doubt either of them will be working at this time of night. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Rafe’s muscles tightened.
Monique drew away. “I should go. You’re probably busy.”
He let her wriggle out of his arms. “You can stay here tonight.”
“I need to go home. I can’t let them push me out of my home, Rafe. No matter what the cops do, or don’t do. I need to know I can still be alone.”
“I don’t like the idea of you being so close to where two people were murdered. Your neighbors are no help. Mac is only interested in getting as many one-night stands into a week as possible, and the others might as well not even live there. Stay here. Just for tonight.”
She pulled away and stood. “No, I need to go.”
“Call me when you’ve talked to the cops.”
Monique knew he meant it to sound caring, but it felt like he didn't trust her. “I will.” She wasn’t sure that she was telling the truth. “I have to go, Rafe.”
He nodded and picked up her dishes. “Don’t do anything stupid, Monique.”
She shrugged into her jacket and picked up her purse. “I’ll try not to.”
CHAPTER 16
When Monique woke the next day, she felt rested. For her, seven hours sleep was a luxury and showed how much she’d been drained by the events leading up to last night. She called Detective Adams, more to hold up to her promise to Rafe than because she thought it would make a difference. He’d told her to stay out of it and wouldn’t give her any details about their investigation.
The lack of details made her more convinced that they weren’t doing a thorough investigation. That a bunch of criminals getting murdered was the lowest priority. Even so, she still couldn’t bring herself to tell them about the picture she’d taken from the apartment. It wasn’t going to help anyone sitting in a file on Watson’s desk.
Detective Adams had told her they would look into the catering company. She hadn’t found comfort in that promise, and he hadn’t made any effort to give her any. He’d gotten off the phone as soon as he could.
Then she left another message for Andy. If he didn’t call back soon, she’d start tracking down detox centers and find Didi on her own. If Didi didn’t want to talk to her, the least he could do was let her know what happened – and pick up his stuff.
By the time she turned up for her shift at the club, Monique was ready to bite the head off the next person who didn’t do what she expected. The walk to the club hadn’t cooled her off much, and anger didn’t do anything good for her voice. Pulling the cigarettes out of her purse, Monique lit up and walked around the block as she smoked. She tried to shake off the annoyance with the world, but the fact that she was smoking again added to her frustration. Nothing was working to lift the mood that she’d woken in.
She flicked the stub of her cigarette into the gutter and worked her way through the crowd into the musician’s lounge. In her head, she was counting to ten, not wanting to take out her anger on the guys. She wasn’t sure why her frustration had turned to anger, but there it was. She walked in and stopped dead in her tracks. Ray was dancing with Wes. Ali quietly playing a waltz on the double bass.
The sight of the two old men fighting to lead, all elbows and grins, bubbled laughter from deep inside, melting her anger on the way out. She was finally able to squeeze out words between gasps of laughter, “Am I missing something?”
The music stopped. Ray and Wes bowed to each other before collapsing on the chairs.
Ray flicked his fingers at Ali. “Our friend here has some news.”
Monique raised an eyebrow and waited.
Ali carefully laid his instrument against the desk beside him. Keeping his eyes on his hands, he said, “I got a call from the symphony. They need me to fill in for a couple of weeks.”
“So he had to practice his classical repertoire, and we were helping him with timing,” Wes said.
“But I think he was playing a waltz, and it looked like you were dancing a polka.”
Wes grinned. “I’m more of a free spirit. The constraints of the dance world will not shackle my moves.”
Ali winked at her. “It’s a good thing I wasn’t watching them for help, although it’s hard to concentrate on playing an instrument when you’re laughing your ass off. How are you doing, Monique?”
“Better now. I’m happy for you, Ali. When do you start?” She hoped they would have time to rehearse with a new band member.
“Next week. Don’t worry I’ve lined up a friend to fill in. You’ll like her. She’s coming by in a couple of days.”
Monique stretched out the last bit of tension in her body. “Cool, I’m sure she’ll be almost as good as you. Why don’t we do an evening of your favorites to celebrate? What would you like for the first set?”
“I’ve never been in charge of the song order before,” Ali said. “How about we start with Stormy Weather?”
They spent the last hour before their set running through every song Ali proposed. Monique was relieved that he loved the standards. She knew them all well enough to sing on demand. It was a good way to send Ali off to the symphony, but Monique couldn’t help feeling as though he was leaving her the way everyone had left her, all her life.
The audience had warmed to the performance. The first set had gone well and their second set had done even better. Monique followed Ray off the stage to get her purse. It was hard to think about going home to her empty apartment after such a great show. An empty apartment didn’t always feel like home even without murder and threats.
She said goodnight to the guys who were staying to back up Maisie. The girl had hit big with the regulars. Monique took her jacket and the rest of her belongings with her to the bar, this time she wouldn’t be caught without her phone if something happened.
As she slipped past the tables scattered through the club, she noticed one particular table near the door. Five of the men she’d seen in the building last night were sitting there with Vincent. She tried not to react, but cold sapped her control as the fight or flight response pulled blood from her extremities.
She touched the back of the chair for balance as her world spun. She felt like she was alone, that Vincent was looking directly at her. The room went silent, at least for her. She felt the vibration of noise through her fingers on the chair, but no sound. She clutched the chair harder and tried to focus on the reality of the situation, not let her fears twist what she saw.
Vincent wasn’t looking in her direction. He was watching the stage, smiling.
Monique forced herself to follow his gaze. Maisie was taking her place in the center. The girl had learned something about show business in the day since Monique had seen he
r. Afro pinned into a pleat, Maisie was wearing a tight black dress that only came half way down her thighs, leading to black stockings, and stilettos. She had the looks and talent that meant a future, if she could stay clean.
The sounds started to come back as Monique allowed herself to believe that Vincent wasn’t here to kill her. That the timing was a coincidence.
She’d have to warn Maisie about handling the wrong kind of fan later. But, maybe, she could get the cops to take Vincent off the street for a while. She dug into her purse as she changed direction to go out to Main Street. Suddenly home seemed like a safer option than the public bar.
She pressed the redial on Detective Adams’ number as she wove her way out through the crowd, the opening notes of What a Wonderful World hushing the chatter.
“Detective Adams?” Monique had not been able to hear the words snapped as someone answered the phone.
“No, this is Watson. Who’s calling?”
Monique looked around. There was no convenient crowd to hide in because the smokers had gone inside to enjoy the show. The road and sidewalk were wet, but the rain had stopped and the clouds had blown away so she could see clearly. She stepped into the shadow of a doorway as she identified herself. “The man who killed Snake is in The Blue Scene right now. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and black pants, and a white shirt. He’s at a table near the door and there are five other men with him.”
“We’re on our way. Stay out of his sight.” Watson ended the call.
Monique leaned back into the doorway. She wasn’t going to move until she saw Vincent being taken out of the club in handcuffs. Then she’d feel safe. Of course, Tess wouldn’t be happy about the disruption, or maybe it would boost her credibility to have an arrest on the property. Monique heard the faint sirens approaching as she leaned forward to watch the front door of the club. She darted back to the shadow as Vincent exited the club, phone to his ear.
He was only steps away. All it would take was a glance over his shoulder to pin her in his gaze.
She couldn’t call Detective Watson because Vincent would hear anything she had to say. Monique held her breath and stayed motionless, willing Vincent to go back inside the club. She touched her phone, feeling for the volume button. Pressing it until she felt the vibration, Monique slid it into her purse. At least now, she didn’t have to worry about Vincent being alerted if the police called her.
He didn’t turn to look at anyone as he started walking downhill. He was still talking to whoever had called him from the club, and he didn’t seem happy.
Monique waited until he was a block away before she slipped from the shadow of the door. She counted the steps until her next hiding place.
There was no way she was going to follow him openly. She’d learned her lesson from last time. There was no way she could stay and wait either. He would just slip away.
What if he had seen her in the club? During her set the house lights would have hidden him while she was on stage. What if he’d been there the whole time?
Fear chilled her more than the night could. She pressed her stomach as she moved, hoping to avoid being sick on the street.
The sirens were getting closer, but not fast enough.
Monique wondered if she could wave them down as they approached, but shut down the idea of stepping out of cover so boldly – it was suicidal. She made it to the next doorway without Vincent noticing, or without him showing he’d noticed.
She pressed herself as deep into the shadow as she could and counted to five before peeking out. Vincent was nowhere in sight. She leaned out farther, and then glanced uphill in case his friends were coming to join him, but she was alone on the street.
The cops were close enough that she could see the flashing lights. She glanced one more time to where Vincent had disappeared, and then ran back to meet the cops at the club door.
There were four cruisers pulling to a stop when she arrived. Detective Watson stepped out of the only unmarked car and started to push his way through the crowd.
“Wait,” she called to him. “He’s not in there. He’s down there somewhere.” She pointed downhill. “I lost him a block away.”
Detective Watson shook his head. “I told you to stay where you were.”
Monique opened her mouth to explain, but he held up a hand to quiet her. “Save it.” Then he directed the uniformed cops to search for Vincent. They pulled away silently with no flashing lights.
Watson turned back to her, fury blazed across his cheeks. “Are you determined to get yourself killed? Or don’t you want us to find out who did this? ”
“Yes, I mean no, but he was getting away. I was careful, and I was already outside.” Monique wanted to slap him. Why was he trying to control her when he should be chasing down Vincent? “I need a drink. You know how to find me if you need me to identify him or something, right?”
He gave her a look she was sure he meant to be stern. It just looked annoyed to her. “This guy is probably gone already. I’ll let you know if we find him. What do we need to do to stop you getting in our way?”
“I’m not getting in your way.” Monique tried to keep her temper, but it was an uphill battle. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even know about Vincent.”
“Just be careful. I don’t want to have to fill out the paperwork on your murder, okay?” He turned to go back to his car.
Monique was touched until she realized he really meant it about the inconvenience of the paperwork. “Sure. Just catch this guy and find out who’s giving him his orders.”
Watson turned to look at her. “What makes you think that someone is telling him what to do? Why can’t he be working on his own?”
Monique forced a smile and tried to look innocent. She didn’t need him to drag her to the station about the breaking and entering, and she had no doubt he would if she told him about it. “I find it hard to believe he’s just killing people with no purpose. I guess he also doesn’t strike me as someone who is in charge. I told you he mentioned some guy called The Colonel just before he killed Snake.” To her own ears she sounded like she was hiding something. Wouldn’t a detective hear the lies easily?
“Good point,” Watson said. He gave her a hard look. “If there’s nothing more, we have to try to catch this Vincent before he murders anyone else.”
Monique kept her mouth shut and nodded before heading back to the warmth and noise of the club.
Tess was coming out as Monique slid past a group of customers who had rushed out to look at what caused the commotion. Tess glanced around at the now empty street, and then grabbed Monique’s arm. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Monique said without thinking. Then she looked at the worry on Tess’s face. “It’s nothing now, but we should probably talk.”
Looking at Monique closely, Tess jerked her head toward her office door. “I think you’re right. And we should talk now.”
They worked their way through the crowd to the door tucked beside the bar. Tess had a small office, almost a closet, where she kept the books and did her payroll. Most of the time she worked in the office when the club was closed, so few people knew the room was more than a closet.
Monique followed Tess into the room and closed the door. When she turned back, Tess was sitting behind the metal desk ready to hear the story. Monique sat on the only other chair, one from the club that had a broken spindle in the back.
Tess didn’t wait for Monique to figure out how to explain what was going on. “You’ve been acting weird lately. I know you saw Snake get killed, but it’s more than that. You’ve been jumpy and this is the second time you’ve run out of the club after someone.”
Monique rubbed her face to clear the exhaustion that had suddenly descended. “For the record, this time he followed me out.” She shrugged at the words. They sounded petulant. “I’m not really sure what is going on. I’ve seen the guy who killed Snake here twice now. I’ve called the cops, but they can’t seem to get here fast enough to catch
him.”
“So you called the cops to my club again?” Tess didn’t sound happy.
“The guy is a killer, Tess. I can’t just let him walk.”
Tess flicked her fingers in dismissal. “I get that. What I don’t get is why you are involved. Is there something I should know?”
Monique realized she needed to talk to someone about the whole series of events. Someone who wouldn’t tell her to keep safe. Someone who might have a useful idea. Tess was pretty connected and despite what she’d said, she probably knew something. Maybe not about The Colonel, but about Vincent. She told Tess everything. “I guess now that these guys are coming into the club, it is making me even more jumpy. I don’t like to think I’ve brought this here.”
Tess pulled open a drawer in her desk and removed a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. She poured and then pushed one of the glasses toward Monique. She didn’t say anything until both drinks were gone. The only thing filling the silence was the faint sound of voices from the club.
Monique was afraid that this was a goodbye drink. That Tess was getting ready to tell her that she was out of a job. Monique was in no hurry to hear that message.
Tess refilled her glass before speaking. “I don’t know that you brought it here, but it’s definitely here if Snake’s killer keeps coming back. I figure it’s only a matter of time before I get offered protection for a price.” She tossed back the second shot. “The only way to avoid that is to deal with it. What table was he at?”
“I think it’s table seven, the one just inside the door.”
“Hang on.” Tess wiggled her way around the desk and cracked open the door. “Four guys who look like the villains in a Steven Segal movie?”
Monique laughed. “Yes, exactly, what are you going to do?”
“Call in a few favors. We’ll be the new after work drinking home for the cops. A few nights of unwelcome company should move them along.” Tess settled back into her chair and offered Monique another shot.