Where The Devil Won't Go: A Lucas Peyroux Novel

by E. J. Findorff

  “Where do I get my stage clothes? I don’t have any money, except for this forty dollars I just made.”

  “No money?” She paused for a moment. “Normally, here’s where I’d say that’s your problem, but Ray has never taken to a girl so quickly.”

  “You took that as liking me?”

  “Sugar, half of these girls have never heard word one from him until he says pack your things. He wants you here and it’s my job to make sure you are. Meet me in front of the Cathedral tomorrow for eleven. We’ll get you an outfit and have lunch. You can owe me. For now, why don’t you sit here, have a burger on me, watch the girls and learn. You do good and Ray will take good care of you.”

  “And if I suck?”

  Tabby’s face finally softened and became feminine. “Sugar, I have no doubt you can do the job. It’s the politics offstage where I worry for you.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Famous last words, Spitfire.”

  Chapter 20

  Cozy spent no extra time in bed, and snuck past Sal in the recliner. She stopped at a local cafe for a Danish and coffee before her second day of staking out Porter’s apartment. Things appeared to be quiet, with empty sidewalks that made her nervous for potential muggers or rapists, even with the sun shining bright. She kept her hand on her weighted purse.

  Where are you, Porter?

  #

  The firing range represented anxiety and frustration. I almost convinced myself it was the building itself that was the problem. The pulley spun and the rope snapped, rushing the target toward Tara and me.

  “Bloody hell.”

  Tara pulled the sheet from the clips. “Your issue is that your mind is not trusting your body.”

  I crushed it into a ball and chucked it at a nearby trashcan. “I hate when that happens.”

  “Trusting yourself is the main issue. I don’t think practicing is going to do it. There’s a wall in your head and psychologically, you have to jump over it or knock it down before you can move on.”

  I put away my gun and headphones and stepped from the partition. “A shrink?”

  “Or – you can have that heart-to-heart you promised Cozy Robicheaux.”

  “Thanks, Mick.”

  “Hey, if Stallone had seen a psychiatrist, he might have stopped with Rocky III.” She gave a quirky smile.

  #

  Cozy’s focused on the apartment building like a terrier that found the foxhole. I sat on the opposite stoop and watched her for a moment without her noticing. She turned at the sound of my sipping coffee and nearly fell to the sidewalk. “Lucas! Shit, you scared me.”

  I handed her a coffee. “What’s going on here?”

  She took the cup. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted us to have our talk, so I called your house and your mom took ten minutes to tell me you hadn’t come back. I figured you were still at Haley’s apartment, but saw you sitting here when I drove by.”

  “Oh.” She took a sip and glanced at the apartments.

  “I know a stake-out when I see one.”

  “Landlord kicked me out. I’m just wondering if I could sneak back in. I’m really not ready to go home yet.”

  I leaned back to get comfortable. “So, let’s talk… About that night.”

  She squinted, seeming to choose her words. “You saved my life and then avoided me.”

  “I may have saved your life, but I almost ended it, too.”

  “Can’t live thinking about the what ifs. That’s fantasy, not reality.”

  “This is actually a huge step for me.”

  She closed her eyes. “If my sister hadn’t been killed, you’d still be avoiding me.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I’d like to think I would’ve gotten my shit together sooner or later.”

  Cozy moved to my stoop and sat to face me, taking my hands. “I’ve thought long and hard about that day of the shooting and I’ve come to one conclusion… you need to stop being such a baby.”

  I reared back. “What?”

  “You’re being a baby – a cry baby. Stop it.” Her intense eyes willed her message into my brain.

  “Wow.”

  “Everyone’s tap dancing around you and you’re just not getting it. That day when you found me and he had his arm around my throat… I knew the moment I saw you that you would save my life. I had never seen you before, yet I trusted you and I was right. Man up. Own it. Be proud of what you did that day. Can you do that for me? Huh, you little baby?” She poked me in the ribs playfully.

  I laughed and felt tears welling at the same time. She clutched my hands as if to keep me from running, waiting for me to answer. “Okay. You make a great argument.”

  She raised one of my hands to her throat and brushed my fingers over the scar like a blind man reading Braille. She held it there. “Say this for me. I saved your life… Say it.”

  “I saved your life,” I managed under my breath. My fingers felt the ridges of her skin that had healed. What I felt was the pulse underneath.

  “Mean it.”

  “I saved your life.”

  “Make me believe it.”

  “I saved your life,” I announced as if speaking to an audience.

  “There you go.” She put my palm against her cheek and closed her eyes with a sigh, but for only a second. She stood up beside me. “Now give me a hug like you’re happy not to be visiting my tomb.”

  “I can do that.” My arms wrapped around her and for the first time, I could feel relief overtaking the guilt. For the first time, I smiled while thinking about her and actually meant it. “Cozy, I can’t tell you how badly I want to catch that guy. I dream about nailing him and putting him away for life. I want to do that for you.”

  “I owe you my life, so I think I owe you this.” A tear ran down her face. “I should tell you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m sitting out here waiting for that landlord, Porter. I’m waiting to kill him.”

  #

  I told Cozy to wait outside the gate. If she was right about Porter, and he was her kidnapper, then it couldn’t possibly be a coincidence that he was the landlord of Haley’s building. No, Cozy had been targeted. I’d be willing to bet there were other victims, and some of them were probably single women with no family who’d rented in this place.

  Porter didn’t answer the doorbell or when I pounded on the door. I did smell something sour, however. According to Cozy, the man who liked to peep out his window hadn’t been seen in days. With my gun at my chest, I entered the unlocked door and stepped into the living room, inhaling the decomposition right away. There were no signs of a struggle.

  Cozy appeared at the front door in my peripheral. “I told you to wait outside.”

  “I know that smell. Is he dead?”

  I continued forward to the hallway. “I don’t know. Wait there.”

  My nose led me to the main bedroom where I saw Porter lying on his bed with a portion of his head missing and a gun by his side. I bent to see that his eyes were still open, staring at the light fixture. By all accounts, it looked like a suicide. Cozy had found him out and he might’ve felt he had no other option. Sure enough, his forearm showed the scar from my bullet. With hair and no beard, it could be him, but I wasn’t sure.

  “Oh, my God,” Cozy said behind me. “Did he kill himself?”

  “Looks like it. Don’t come in here, Cozy.” I pushed her back through the doorframe. “This is a crime scene. Go wait outside and don’t touch a thing.”

  “Okay.” An expression of surprise and glee flashed across her face, like she had spied her Christmas present before it got wrapped.

  I turned back to the scene. The mass of blood on the bed and the splatter against the headboard told me CSU would come to my conclusion, but it seemed all too convenient. The expression on Cozy’s face and the fact she had been waiting for him told me she was innocent. I stepped outside to call dispatch, and Cozy was nowhere to be found.

/>   Chapter 21

  Cozy ran at first, then power-walked the rest of the way, panting, to meet Tabitha at the St. Louis Cathedral. When she had seen Porter’s body, she figured he wasn’t the only one involved. If Porter hadn’t killed himself, his bosses would have. He just avoided the torture. The strip club was the only other connection. Lucas would probably have every cop in the Quarter searching for her, so she had bought a Saint’s cap and sunglasses.

  It only took an hour of shopping for Tabitha to find the right clothing stores. When her adrenaline had subsided, she found herself enjoying the experience. Cozy’s bag contained a slutty Catholic high school girl uniform and a hot pink, glitzy bikini. She and Tabby strolled through the French Market next to the river. Tables in the Market displayed an eclectic assortment of cheap merchandise that fit into the category of local, knock-off, or Made In China. Tabby predicted that Cozy should make enough money tonight to buy a month’s worth of costumes, but using that money to get another place to stay was first priority.

  They crossed over to the sidewalk and stayed parallel to the river, coming to a restaurant with outdoor seating and a chalkboard menu containing a varied list of fried seafood available on French bread. The glare prompted them to lower their sunglasses as they fell onto metal chairs with groans.

  Tabby emphasized every word. “I love to shop.”

  An attractive waiter with a ponytail came to take their order, keeping his back to the sun. His attention stayed on Tabby like a magnet needing a place to stick. She flirted effortlessly and with class. When he left, Tabby watched his ass. A jazz quartet could be heard on the next block.

  “You warned me about the club politics. Anything specific I should watch out for?” Cozy asked out of the blue.

  Tabby pulled down her glasses to expose her eyes. “Number one, dancers can’t date the bouncers.”

  “I’m not in a place to date anyone. You dating?” Cozy asked, but retracted. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”

  “Are you kidding? I miss normal girl talk.”

  “So, spill.” Cozy slid the metal chair across the concrete to get closer.

  “Well, it’s strange. When I was the number one dancer at Molly’s, I was with Ray. When he saw I had a brain, he made me manager, and we stopped. It was like I wasn’t bimbo enough for him. The weird part is he doesn’t want anyone else to date me, so I’m kind of still his in a way.”

  “That is so Alpha Male.”

  She grimaced. “He fucks whoever he wants, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  The waiter brought two sweet teas and they raised their cups. “A toast. To the absence of men.”

  Tabby stopped drinking to focus on something from behind her glasses. “Hey, that’s a nice alligator pendant. Funny—it looks familiar.”

  Cozy screamed in her head. How could she be so stupid as to wear it in front of Tabby? “Thanks. I’ve actually seen about ten of these since I bought it. There’s a whole box of them at the Market.”

  “Yeah, I know I’ve seen it around.” She leaned back and took a drink, searching for that waiter with the cute butt.

  “Any personal advice you give to the girls you like?” Cozy primped her hair for effect.

  Tabitha laughed. “I do like you. You remind me of another girl that used to work there, but…”

  Cozy froze. “But, what?”

  “Don’t freak out, but one of our girls was found dead in the Mississippi last week. Right over there by the Moon Walk, in fact.” She pointed through the shops blocking their view. “From what I understand, no one claimed her body.” She shook her head and lowered her gaze to the table. “Sad.”

  “What’d you tell the cops?”

  “They don’t know that she worked for us. She was off the books, like a contractor.”

  “Like I am right now.”

  She nodded. “Ray doesn’t want the bad publicity or have the cops scaring off the customers.” She nodded at me. “But lots of our customers are off duty cops, mind you.”

  “So, none of these cops recognized her?”

  Tabitha laughed. “Like those drunk bastards look at the face. These girls wear so much make up. And if they add a wig, they’re practically in disguise.”

  “Makes sense.” Cozy bit her nail, then stopped as if Tabitha wouldn’t approve.

  “It’s a shame about her. Haley was her name. I never heard about a funeral, but I wanted to pay my respects. She was a really good friend, and I can’t say that about most of these girls.”

  “What do they think happened?”

  “Well…put it this way. Regarding that advice you wanted, I’d stay away from Vince. Even though we don’t condone dating the bouncers, they try to poach the girls behind our backs. He’s a bit… overbearing.”

  “You think Vince was involved in that girl’s death?” Cozy leaned sideways in the chair.

  “I didn’t say that. They dated without me knowing when she was first hired, but they broke up long ago. And then Jeanie…”

  “Another dancer?”

  “Vince and Jeanie were chummy. Jeanie quit a couple weeks ago.”

  “Vince did something?”

  “She just quit without telling anyone. Dancers tend to do that. Just… don’t fraternize, okay? Vince can be a cliché, you understand?”

  “You can’t fire him?”

  “He’s Ray’s favorite, loyal and good with the customers. It’s his career. He’s not just passing through.”

  “Thanks for the advice. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

  “I survive on my instincts. There are some girls that you just know will do this until they’re sagging and can’t pull a buck anymore. I don’t think that’s you. I see you figuring things out and leaving at some point.”

  “I would like to think that.”

  Tabby stirred her tea with the straw. “Your gears are spinning.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’re thinking about something.”

  “You’ve just made me think of where I might be a few years from now. I’ve never thought that far ahead.”

  “This becomes the life for some girls. It’s hard to watch, but it’s kind of like running a dog shelter; you just know some of these girls aren’t leaving until they have to, and you can’t save them all.”

  “How many well-adjusted girls do you hire?”

  “Ha.” Tabitha agreed with a toast. She tilted her head and swung around to pat the waiter’s ass.

  Chapter 22

  Tara and I stood outside the door of Porter’s apartment while CSU collected the scene. I had recounted my reunion with Cozy and what led up to finding the landlord. His DNA would be tested against the samples from the abandoned house, so we wouldn’t get results for a week or two. I called Captain Dobson to have someone check the addresses of any missing persons to see if they ever lived in the apartment complex and to find out who owns the building.

  “The way Porter killed himself,” I started, “doesn’t sit right.”

  “You wanted to get justice for Cozy for so long, you don’t want it to end like this. He killed himself. That’s good.”

  “But, consider Haley in all this. The trafficking. I think these apartments could be a half-way house for these girls.”

  “But they’re free to come and go.” Tara said.

  “What I’m thinking is, they work as strippers or escorts for someone who picks certain girls to sell at a hefty price. Quality over quantity. They offer the apartment at a discount or maybe for free and when the time comes, they just get taken – like Haley in that video.”

  “And Haley let someone know she had a younger sister, maybe showed a picture, and then they set out to kidnap her. If Haley was going to be sold, she must have really pissed someone off to be killed.”

  My cell rang, so I put it on speaker. “Peyroux.”

  “A Russian company owns the apartment building.” Dobson blurted. “Grom Holdings. I have the Feds looking into it
.”

  “So, dead end for now.”

  Dobson’s voice crackled. “And Edgar Porter is not in the system.”

  “We have to find Cozy, Cap.”

  “We’ve got all available on it. What’s your next move?”

  I looked at my partner. “Tara and I are going to talk to Harry Winslow first. We’ll search for Cozy after that. Maybe she’s gone back home.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  #

  It finally sunk in that the kidnapper who forced me to shoot Cozy was dead. I felt good about that, but unfulfilled that I hadn’t caught him. At least Cozy and I would have closure and after our little talk on the stoop, the clouds had parted. That twinge of anxiety while holding my gun had left for good.

  We made our second trip to see Harry Winslow. Chance’s warning at LaPlace on Bourbon about irritating the wrong people made me want to do it all the more. We stepped off the elevator toward the glass walls of Winning One. This time the secretary, Amy Schultz, spoke into her headset after spotting us. She announced our arrival with cheer as her wide blue eyes locked on mine, reminding me of Alicia’s crush on Chance. Tara would tease me about Amy’s flirting after our interview.

  Ms. Schultz escorted us down a bright hallway with a shiny cherry wood floor. Black-framed pictures of important men and women spied on us with permanent smiles on their faces. Harry Winslow naturally had the corner office. She tapped the door twice and opened it wide. “Detectives Tara Gray and Lucas Peyroux.”

  Mr. Winslow stood and extended his young secretary a cursory glance before she shut the door. Their relationship probably extended beyond the office. “Have a seat, Detectives, and call me Harry.” He offered an animated smile as if he was always on.

  We sat on thin, chrome, black-cushioned chairs, and then he eased into his larger leather chair. Two potted plants guarded each side of his desk and behind us were a sofa, three chairs and a coffee table lit up with slivers of light from the window blinds.