In It for the Money

by David Burnsworth

  Once clear of the body, he spun the bike around and skidded to a stop beside the Jeep.

  Tim was face down on the pavement. A pistol had dropped beside him.

  Harmony looked pale. She held a blood-soaked hand over her bicep.

  Crome pulled out his phone and called an ambulance.

  He looked down at Tim the lowlife, with his hair now all disheveled and a tire tread across the back of his t-shirt, and wondered if he’d make it.

  Sunday, early evening

  Blu watched as detectives McDere and Builder arrested Crome and put him in the backseat of their cruiser. Between the bar fight and the traffic accident, there was a lot for them to sort out. When they began to read Crome his rights, Harmony stepped away from the paramedics tending to her and caused such a ruckus with the officers Blu was afraid she would join his partner in his trip to the police station.

  Blu called Carol Ryan, the high-powered lawyer Cynthia Rhodes had put on retainer for him. She agreed to handle Crome’s release.

  Tess pulled Harmony back to the ambulance so they could get her ready for transport to the hospital. She had been shot, after all, even if it was most likely not life threatening as long as they kept infection at bay. He guessed she was still in shock.

  Blu took a long drag on his vaporizer. The situation really went south after Crome went around Harmony to get information. From what he could gather from Tess, her twin overreacted and showed her tail in the worst possible way. While there was no apparent bad blood between the twins and Darcy, Pelton’s wife had a huge reputation in the local news where professional jealousy reigned.

  Tim the lowlife drug dealer was being rushed to the hospital. Chances were he wouldn’t make it. But if he did, he’d have to answer for shooting Harmony, for being a suspect in the murder of Angel, and for the missing Cleo. If he died, well there was one less lowlife in the world.

  The three men in the bar Crome had gotten in the scuffle with did not share the same story about the sequence of events. Crome had told Blu his fingerprints would not be on the shotgun as he had knocked it away with his palm. The police eventually lifted only one set from the weapon, the bar owner’s. And he was also sent downtown for questioning.

  With Crome in custody, Harmony in the hospital, Tim most likely never to recover, and no more leads, Blu felt once again less enthused about his job.

  Even more so when Detective Powers called while he was deep in thought watching the Jeep with two flat tires being loaded onto a flatbed. He asked if Blu knew of a Heidi Noel, also known as Cleo because she’d been found in a dumpster, shot to death.

  Just great.

  Later in the day, Blu sat on his front porch nursing an iced coffee and watching three of the horses around the water trough. With his partner in jail and nowhere to go at the moment, he had some time. His iPhone rang. Thanks to Cynthia Rhodes giving him another phone with the same number as before, he was back in business. Apparently, money could cut through a heck of a lot of red tape.

  He answered, not recognizing the number. “Hello?”

  “Is this the guy who beat up my three bodyguards?” a female voice asked.

  It took Blu a moment to recognize the voice. “Hello, Tristan.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  When Blu crested the last step to the upper deck of the Pirate’s Cove overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, he found Tristan, sans any guards, sipping something clear over ice and chatting with Pelton. Her hair was tied back in a pony tail and she had on a mostly sheer cover over a pink bikini—typical beach wear for the bar.

  Blu knew he could handle himself in most situations. But since dropping three of Tristan’s guards the last time, he felt it prudent to take precautions. When Tristan had said she wanted to meet, he’d suggested the kid’s bar knowing he’d have decent backup.

  He sat on the stool next to her and told Pelton he wanted an iced tea.

  Pelton nodded and poured the drink.

  Tristan’s eyes met his. “You look good.”

  “That was supposed to be my line.” And it would have been—the woman was stunning.

  She smiled. “Are you trying to chat me up?”

  “I guess I am,” he said.

  Pelton placed the drink in front of him, asked Tristan if she wanted another, which she did, and set two menus down, just in case, before leaving them to make the drink.

  She said, “Good. Lunch is on me.”

  “Do you do this for all the guys who beat up your bodyguards?”

  “Only the ones I think about later.”

  He took a hit of vapor and exhaled. “So you thought about me later?”

  “Yes.” Meeting his eyes again. “You really pissed off my father and that’s a turn-on. I decided I want to get to know you better.”

  “Is he so pissed off he’s planning to get even?” Or already tried to?

  She smiled. “Are you worried?”

  “I took a calculated risk at the club that night. That doesn’t mean I’m not worried about any aftershock.”

  “You have friends in high places,” she said. “Higher places than even my father.”

  Adam Kincaid for sure and possibly Cynthia Rhodes. It paid to have connections.

  He said, “I’m still looking for Jeremy Rhodes. You said on the phone he contacted you?”

  She said, “You’re avoiding my proposition.”

  “Yes.”

  Pelton returned with her drink and carried the menus off after they ordered grilled chicken sandwiches.

  Leaning closer to Blu, she said, “That’s okay. But just so you know, I don’t take no for an answer.”

  “I’ve already got someone.”

  “Doesn’t matter. My daddy raised me to be a spoiled brat. I always get what I want. Blame him.”

  Blu said, “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know you were a Ranger in Desert Storm and have been a private investigator since you returned from the war. I know Adam Kincaid thinks you hung the moon because you got his daughter back. She’s a friend of mine, by the way, and she told me you declined when she proposed marriage.”

  “I’m too old for her. And I’m too old for you.”

  She sipped her new drink. “That hasn’t stopped you from spending time with the TV wonder twins.”

  “Harmony and Tess? That’s strictly business.”

  “Tell that to the half of Charleston who thinks you and your degenerate biker partner are bopping them.”

  He laughed. “People are gonna say what they’re gonna say.”

  “Then spending some quality time with me shouldn’t bother you, either.”

  “I told you, I already have someone.”

  “I know.” She smiled. “Billie Day. She’s pretty, if you like them middle-aged.”

  “I’m middle-aged, and she’s twice as mature.”

  “As me?” she asked, retreating slightly.

  “As me,” he said. What was it with these women who thought being forward and being mature were the same thing?

  “She doesn’t have to know.”

  “But I would know.”

  “That’s what all men say before they cheat.” She said it like she’d been there before and gotten her way.

  Blu didn’t even kid himself into thinking he was better than any of her previous victims. He said, “You know where Jeremy is?”

  She smiled again. “Yes.”

  So the negotiations had begun. He remained silent.

  Tristan said, “How bad do you want to know?”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Sunday, eight thirty p.m.

  Blu sat in the parking lot staring at a dark, tinted-windowed minivan. The license plate matched the one Crome had gotten from Jimmy, which was a complete number matching the partial Kara the barista had given him. It was the vehic
le he’d been searching for. Well, really it was the means to an end. What he wanted was the owner. He wanted Jeremy Rhodes. And tonight he’d have his chance—he could feel it.

  He reached for the door handle just as someone rapped on his window. In one motion, his right hand grasped the holstered Glock and brought it up the same time his eyes met Tess’ looking at him through the glass.

  She gave him her made-for-television smile.

  What in the hell was she doing here? And how in the hell did she get the drop on him? Maybe it was time to consider taking up another line of work. He holstered the gun and got out of his rental SUV.

  Tess said, “Howdy.”

  There were a lot of things he could have said. He went with the obvious. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’d ask you the same question, but the black minivan over there you’ve been glaring at for the past five minutes gave that away.”

  He said, “You need to leave.”

  “No,” she said. “I need this story. It will make my career.”

  “You and Harmony really want to learn things the hard way, don’t you?”

  Tess folded her arms across her chest. “Harmony let pride effect her judgement. I want the story. There’s a difference.”

  “Maybe, but it can still get you killed.”

  “You too.”

  He could stand here and debate things with her all night, but Jeremy Rhodes was most likely inside the church building directly in front of them. “Suit yourself.”

  They walked to the double metal-framed doors with “Youth Hall” stenciled on the glass. The right one was unlocked and they walked in.

  No one was around, but the lights were on and voices could be heard down the hall. They made their way toward them, turned a corner, and stopped cold.

  Blu couldn’t believe it. After the deaths of Angel and Cleo, being shot at himself, Crome spending time in jail and Harmony in the hospital, all in the hunt for Jeremy Rhodes, here he was sitting in front of a group of children reading a book at the address Tristan had given him.

  Cynthia Rhodes’ innocent little boy, with purple hair, tats down both arms, and black finger nails…was…here.

  Tristan had come through. Of course, it had cost him part of his soul—in the form of a kiss and the promise she would call on him sometime in the future for a job. And God only knew what kind of job it would be.

  Anger revved up through Blu’s veins. It took a lot of self-control not to walk up to Jeremy, grab a handful of purple hair, beat the hell out of him, and drag him back to his mother. Instead, he and Tess sat in the back of the room and watched while they waited for him to finish.

  The children sat in a semi-circle, seemingly mesmerized either by the Dr. Seuss story or by the living, breathing character in front of them. Jeremy altered his voice as he read the different characters’ lines, making pretty convincing facial expressions as he acted out the text.

  He finished the Dr. Seuss book and the children cheered and begged him to read them another story. Blu had to admit the kid had a way with the children. Jeremy picked up another book and began to read. It took Blu a few moments to recognize the biblical tale of the prodigal son. Blu let him finish the story.

  A woman walked into the room and gathered up the children, saying something about getting cleaned up for dinner.

  As the children left, Jeremy picked up the small stack of books beside his chair and placed them in a bookshelf along the wall.

  Blu said, “Nice job with the kids.”

  Jeremy turned to look at Blu. Then he looked at Tess. And then he leered at Tess.

  Upon closer inspection, Blu verified the piercings in each of Jeremy’s cheeks, above his chin, in his nose, and in his left eyebrow.

  Jeremy said, “Tell my mother to piss off.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Blu said.

  Tess stayed silent, but Blu could tell she had many questions buzzing around in her head.

  Jeremy said, “How long have you been trying to find me?”

  “Seventeen days.”

  Whistling, Jeremy said, “You must be pretty good. The last guy charged my mother for a month and came back with nothing.” Motioning to Tess, he asked, “Who’s she?”

  “My assistant.” Blu could tell Tess was biting her tongue. “And I am better than pretty good.” Cynthia hadn’t mentioned any predecessors.

  The brat Jeremy Rhodes said, “Well, I’m not going home.”

  Blu scratched his five-o’clock shadow. “I’m not going to ask you to. In fact, I don’t give a squat what you do.”

  Jeremy stepped back and turned to fully face Blu, eyes enhanced with what Blu thought might be a hint of mascara, and opened wide like when he was animating his reading. He must have showered recently because he didn’t smell at the moment.

  “That’s right,” Blu continued. “I just want you to listen to me tell a story.”

  “You’re going to tell a story?” Jeremy folded small arms across an equally small chest, the whole physique looking like it had never seen a gym, or weight resistance, or manual work, in its life.

  “That’s right. See, whether you believe it or not, your mother cares about you. I’m a parent, so I know what I’m talking about.”

  A man walked into the room. He was shorter than both Jeremy and Blu, closer to Tess’ height, and also pudgy. Probably ran the neighborhood program. He asked, “Is everything okay here, Jeremy?”

  Jeremy said, “I’m not sure.”

  Tess spoke up. “You’re probably right. Better call the police.”

  The Rhodes kid’s eyes got wider, and then he tapered them. “No need for the police. We’re just having a conversation here, Phil.”

  The man Jeremy called Phil said, “Should I stick around?”

  It was Blu’s turn to fold his arms across his chest. “Your call, kid. I’ve my story to tell.”

  Still glaring at Blu, Jeremy said, “No, Phil. I think I’ll be okay. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

  Which meant he’d scream like a girl if he felt threatened. Blu knew the kid wasn’t stupid. He felt safe here, but that was a double-edged sword. It meant the kid wasn’t safe elsewhere. He couldn’t really leave.

  Phil eyed Blu as he walked out of the room.

  Blu smiled and waited for him to leave. He turned to Jeremy.

  The kid said, “How’d my mother find you? You’re not like the other stiffs working for her.”

  Tess said, “That’s why he found you.”

  Nodding, Jeremy said, “What do I call you two?”

  “My name’s Blu Carraway. This is Tess.”

  “Okay,” Jeremy said, “so what’s this story you spent seventeen days tracking me down to tell me, Blu Carraway and Assistant Tess?”

  Blu figured hitting the kid hard with the facts would sober him up. “Angel and Cleo are dead.”

  Jeremy’s facial skin stretched tight against his skull as he opened his mouth wide. “No!”

  “Yes.”

  The kid collapsed to the floor and sobbed. He covered his head with his hands. “Because of me?”

  “One could make the inference.”

  Jeremy raised his head from his hands. “Make the inference? What are you, some kind of English major or something?”

  Tess said, “Or something sums it up.”

  Blu had majored in beer drinking and minored in mathematics at the University of South Carolina. At one time, he’d wanted to become a teacher. Staring at this purple-haired, pierced-out millennial, the desire to teach felt like a lifetime ago, and he wanted no part of it anymore.

  “How’d they die?” Jeremy asked.

  Blu was surprised the kid seemed to care about Angel and Cleo. He said, “Shot. The police are investigating.”

  Jeremy nodded again. “But you found me first.”<
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  “Yes,” Tess said, pulling out a pad and paper from her purse. “Tim the drug dealer’s dead as well. But the people he answers to are still looking for you.”

  “Are you going to let them know where I am?”

  She said, “Depends on what you have to tell us.”

  “I don’t know anything. I didn’t know they were dead until you told me.”

  Blu took a drag from his ecig and then pointed it at the kid sitting on the floor. “That doesn’t mean you don’t know anything.”

  “You sure think you’re smart, don’t you?”

  “We do,” Tess said.

  Jeremy wiped his eyes. “Modest too.”

  Blu said, “Look, kid—”

  “I’m not a kid.”

  With great restraint, Blu said, “You got purple hair and more holes in your face than a peg board. That doesn’t help your case.”

  Jeremy swatted air. “Shut up.”

  Tess said, “What we need from you first is anything that could link the suitcase you stole to here. Is there anything?”

  Wiping more tears, and with a catch in his voice, Jeremy said, “N-no.”

  Blu pulled one of the folding chairs close to Jeremy and sat. “Are you sure? If they show up, it won’t be just you they hurt.”

  “Wha-what do you mean?”

  Blu knew he needed to scare the kid. “These men leave collateral damage.”

  “Phil?”

  “Anyone close by when they find you.”

  His head dropped back into his hands. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

  Tess stooped down and put a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Why don’t you tell us what was supposed to happen.”

  Swaying back and forth, Jeremy looked like a grounded ten-year-old who couldn’t go outside to play with his friends. “The money was for the kids.”

  “How much money are we talking about?” Blu asked.

  Jeremy opened his mouth, closed it, then said, “Fifty thousand dollars. My grandfather said my mother had hired someone to look for me. I didn’t know there were others.”