Chase took no notice. He didn’t like being rebuffed before he had even got started. It wasn’t good for his ego and if the other bro’s noticed, his reputation would suffer. “You’re an outsider here. You very obviously haven't ever been within five feet of a biker before today and it shows. Oh yes. I see that you expected anyone wearing a Harley shirt to have no conversation and less intelligence. You are not very subtle.”
Shanna had the grace to blush.
Ignoring her, Chase continued, “this is a family club as I’m sure Tank told you, but not everyone here is a member and not all bikers are nice people that little girls can come and play with like a new doll. We welcome new faces here and it’s standard procedure for a member to keep an eye on strangers, especially women, and make them feel welcome. That’s all. I’m sorry if our hospitality isn't good enough for you. Perhaps you would like to go sit with the women? And if my buying you a couple of beers offends you, by all means feel free to pay for mine. I’m a liberated male. Now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I have to go see a man.”
Ten
Shanna steamed. She watched Chase lope cockily off to the bathroom. The insufferable prick. As usual she had screwed up. Shanna’s mouth was always getting her in trouble. She tried to say things diplomatically but they always came out exactly the opposite. He was kind of cute too, in a dangerous sort of way.
Shanna glanced around at the women’s table. Good God. They really were backwards out here. She shuddered at the thought of having to spend her evening at a table full of women. She caught Linda’s eye and immediately Linda got up and wandered over. Must be that business of not leaving strangers alone, Shanna thought. She began to wonder what went on out here. Shanna threw a couple of bills on the bar and ordered another round and one for Linda. She’d show him.
“Thanks.” Linda put the cold bottle against her cheek. “So how do you like Chase?”
Shanna glared at the area of the bathroom door from which Chase had just emerged and was now talking to a couple of his friends. “He’s insufferable.”
Linda laughed. “Careful, girl. That’s his hook. The more they resist, the more he likes it. That’s why they call him Chase.”
Shanna bridled. “Well this is one chase he’s not going to win. Do you people make bets on his track record or something? You know Linda, I really don’t need this crap.”
“Oh lighten up.” Linda was unfazed. “Look at you, so uptight and pissed off, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were mightily attracted. That’s the first spark of reaction I’ve seen in you in months. You know what?” Linda flicked her head towards where Tank was avidly inspecting a customized bike with his cronies. “If it wasn’t for that big lug there, I’d have chased Chase myself.” She rolled her eyes lasciviously. “Sometimes he looks so damn good I think I just might anyway. You need a good man, sweetie and that one there, there’s none better.”
Shanna shook her head, laughing despite herself. “Linda, how many times do I have to tell you not to meddle in my love life.” She looked thoughtfully at Chase. “Though maybe it’s not mine you’re meddling with. It seems to me a man of his age without any baggage aims to stay unattached and likes it that way.”
Linda shrugged. “I can't help myself. It’s such a waste. The two of you don’t know what you’re missing. He’s been alone too long and you need a good man, one you can't run over. But actually, I did have a double motive for introducing you two. I thought you could help him.”
Shanna glanced at Chase again looking puzzled. “I would have thought he was the last person in the world to need help and especially from a woman. What’s that got to do with me anyhow, help with what?”
Linda lowered her voice. “You're a paralegal. Chase’s sister Sophie was killed recently. She was his only remaining relative and he went berserk. He’s convinced she was murdered. That’s a good man there.” Linda nodded in Chase’s direction. “We all love him and we loved Sophie too. We’re worried about him.”
Shanna was nonplussed. “But what is it that you think I can do?”
Linda gave her a sly grin. “Well, aside from the obvious… Okay, okay.” Linda patted her on the arm. “I honestly don’t know, but we must do something, promise me you will help.”
“Oh no. No you don’t. That man wouldn’t ask for my help if I was the last woman on earth.”
Linda said nothing. She just sat there looking dejected and disappointed.
“Damnit Linda.” Shanna didn’t want to do this, she really didn’t want to do this but already she knew she was fighting a losing battle. She owed Linda a lot and Linda had never once asked her for anything. Shanna stared at Chase again and then back at Linda. Perhaps the man wasn’t all that bad after all. She felt a little remorseful and wished Linda had told her this earlier. She capitulated resignedly. “Well, of course, if there is anything I can do, I’d be glad to, but I don’t think that he’s the type of man to ask for help is he?”
Linda shook her head. “He’s coming back. I’ll leave you two alone. Remember your promise.”
Eleven
Chase took his time coming back and by then Shanna was the center of a group of admirers. The other women were cool. It had taken them a good while to get the attention of their men back and they sat in a huddle talking children and fashion but by the end of the day, she had won every one of them over with her charm. She talked with all the women, showing genuine interest in them, played with the kids and deflected the other guys from paying too much attention to her. She had help with this.
Chase, after his initial pique, assumed his dominant male stance and glowered at anyone who came too near. After all, it was expected. Since they all knew him and knew what that look could precede, the others reluctantly conceded the territory and went back to their beers and bikes.
Shanna was friendly, but wary. Chase kept things low key, talking about bikes and his own experiences, not asking too many questions. He gave Shanna his standard basic prattle on motorcycles. She was astute enough to notice that most of the members wearing new looking leathers covered in lots of tassels and expensive extras were mostly what Chase disgustedly referred to as “Rolex riders or Rubbies – rich urban bikers”. Without exception, their bikes were new, brightly colored and very obviously not ridden very often. The regulars, however, wore well worn, mostly tassel-free leathers and their bikes were mostly less colorful and had been customized by their owners, each machine unique.
Chase pointed out the different bikes and explained the difference between panhead, knucklehead, shovelhead etc. keeping his lesson to the features that Shanna could easily understand. Chase couldn’t resist being patronizing when he was talking about bikes to a woman and he was amused at Shanna’s obvious anger with this. It was kind of fun to keep a spark in her eye. Chase reminded her again that this was a family club, not a club such as the Hell’s Angels. They wore no colors and held no initiation rites or other goings on. He kept the conversation impersonal and gradually, his hard work paid off and Shanna loosened up, just a smidgen.
Returning to the bar, the conversation took a more personal track and Chase was struck with the way Shanna picked up on his vagueness about his job without comment. She did not press but instead, asked him about his travel experiences. They were interrupted for a while by some newcomers, and Chase used the opportunity to get another couple of beers. Despite himself, Chase was impressed. This was quite a woman. She could handle her booze too, they'd been drinking steadily all afternoon. Chase handed Shanna a beer and stretched out his legs comfortably. “You sound like you enjoy your work.”
Shanna shot him a suspicious look. “I do. It's a very tough job and has a high burnout rate. A lot of people can't handle the trauma. Your normal day can go from being reamed out by a lawyer to being threatened with a beating by a drug addict or trying to comfort a woman who just lost her family.”
Chase was surprised and made the mistake of
letting it show. There was more to this woman than met the eye. Chauvinistically he had assumed she was a secretary and her days were dull and boring. “Well it sounds like you don’t have a boring time at work anyway.”
“No. Far from it.” Shanna responded. “But it has its drawbacks. A lot of people in law can't handle the power. When you work for a lawyer he has subpoena power and can get anything he wants from anywhere. Lawyers are not tied down with red tape like the police. They are the red tape. I've seen people, paralegals and lawyers, who get carried away with that. They think they're above the law and break it or think they intimidate everyone and end up getting injured.” Chase looked mildly interested, so Shanna continued. “Or, the sheer pressure of the workload gets to you. A typical week is sixty to eighty hours if you allow a lawyer to run you like that. I've paid my dues and I mostly work a regular forty-hour week unless we're in trial or there's some other emergency. It's never dull and I never have to watch a clock. If I have to be stuck in an office, I guess that's the best kind.”
“So, it’s true what they say about lawyers?”
“Oh yes.” Shanna said. “I'm sure there are some decent ones out there, but I haven't met one yet. The system usually doesn't work for the little people, especially here, where we have a good old boy network. They all should be named Shylock.”
“That sounds a little cynical.” Chase was amused by her intensity.
Shanna bridled at Chase’s amusement and replied curtly. “That's a lot cynical. That kind of lifestyle equates to that of a trauma nurse or a vice cop. It rubs off and you have to develop a thick enough shell to deal with it or you're in the wrong business.”
So much, Chase thought, for appearances. This beautiful, fey little creature with the exquisite eyes and air of wild delicacy was as sharp as they come and as strong as steel. Intrigued, Chase wanted to know more.
“And your boss?”
“He's a trial lawyer, or used to be.” Shanna frowned. “At first I thought he was different. He used to help the people who needed it, but eventually he got like all the rest. Now we do mostly divorce work because that's where the money is. In fact, I'm looking around for something else. I don't like divorce work. Paralegals are behind-the-scenes people who do most of the work and get none of the glory. For me, the payoff comes in trial. Actually being in the courtroom and knowing that you've done the two, three or four years of work that it took to get there. If you win, you won as much as the lawyers did. Without your preparation, chances are they would have relied mostly on their courtroom skills and it’s your crossed t's and dotted i's that mostly got that verdict.”
Chase thought Shanna’s boss must be the ultimate asshole to have alienated such an obviously valuable employee. “Does he know?”
Shanna shrugged. “One thing he's not is dumb. There've been a lot of problems in the office lately although we haven't spoken about it. I guess you could say it’s like a marriage, people grow in different directions sometimes.”
Chase lit another cigarette and took a moment to check on Jake who had earlier monopolized a lot of Shanna’s time. Sometimes Chase thought there was a person, not a dog inside that hairy black and tan skin. “You know, I've rarely had to deal with lawyers, but just this afternoon I was talking about a local divorce lawyer with an acquaintance of mine.”
“Anyone I know?” Shanna asked idly.
“I didn't catch his name, short, balding fellow with a big mouth.”
Shanna grinned. It was a beautiful grin. “Well, most lawyers have got big mouths, but actually, it sounds a lot like my boss.”
Chase paid attention. “That would be a coincidence wouldn't it? Is he doing a divorce for a guy by the name of Myles Hickman?”
Shanna turned demure. “Now that comes under the client confidentiality rule.”
Chase didn’t want to press. He had a feeling it wouldn’t do him any good anyway. He generally didn't spend much time talking to his women, mostly because he'd never had to before. His one or two long-term relationships had been with the type of women who wanted to party and spend money and to be honest, he had, for the most part, behaved like a major prick. He liked to think he had matured since then. There certainly wasn't much that he didn't know about women now, which accounted for how he could always pull them away from seemingly more attractive men, but this one was different.
They had been talking for hours and despite the mutual hostility, Chase suddenly realized how much he had enjoyed it. While it was evident they had got off on the wrong foot, being with Shanna was like being with one of his buddies. For the first time in his life, he might actually have a female friend. Stunned with this revelation, Chase got a couple more drinks and they resumed their conversation. He told her all about Sophie and why he was home now and why he had asked about her lawyer boss. She told him how surprised she was to find that most of the women she talked to at the club worked, and how many of them worked in law. This immediately put Chase’s back up. These were real Harley riders, after all, not the new breed of Rubbies. Like most people, Shanna had preconceived notions of Hells Angels, drugs and group sex. Not working stiffs with kids and dogs and bills to pay.
They talked so long they hadn’t realized that the party was closing up and people were starting to drift out. Just about the time the sun started to go down, Chase felt his private party meter go a notch too high and fatigue start to kick in. He whistled up Jake, invited Shanna to dinner the following evening and headed home.
That was Chase’s style. Don’t rush things. He was a little put out when Shanna made it clear that she agreed to dinner only in response to a plea from Linda to offer her professional services in the Sophie matter. Still, he had a phone number, a date and was confident he had a lock on the situation. Not that he would not have liked to linger, but he always knew when to quit. That instinct saved him from countless bad situations and he had learned to listen, and besides, sweet dreams of red-gold hair awaited him.
Twelve
Brian felt good. Returning to the field was like going home again. He would never go back to a desk job. He’d sweep floors first. His work had brought him stateside on several occasions but he had never before visited South Florida. He wasn’t sure he liked it. Too steamy. Too many people. Too much traffic. It didn’t take him long to ditch the suit and tie and replace them with shorts and tee shirt but it didn’t help much. Those idiots in requisition had rented him a black vehicle. It was a Ford Explorer, nice and suitably unnoticeable, but it drew the sun like a magnet.
Brian was not too happy with his orders either. He was to follow the other players around, watch and observe. Noninterference was the order of the day. Under no circumstances was he to be visible to his targets. How in the world he was supposed to fulfill his mission without interference was beyond him but Brian knew that he would find a way. He thought that perhaps the department’s intelligence was slipping a little. They were evidently unaware that the South Florida sunshine was clouded by rampant violent crime and drugs. People were murdered around here and tossed in the ocean on a daily basis.
In a way that was a good thing. The local cops had their hands full and were stretched thin. Nothing much short of murder got their attention because they didn’t have the manpower to deal with it and Brian would have no difficulty obtaining weapons and the like. One problem off his list.
His principal target was a socialite come scientist by the name of Myles Hickman. Brian had already familiarized himself with the area and had been close enough to Hickman at the turtle fest to hear the conversation concerning the girl, Sophie.
He had filed a report requesting information on the girl’s death. It may be nothing, but Brian’s thoroughness with detail had kept him alive a long time. His number one rule was to check out everything, no matter how small. And besides, her brother was evidently not satisfied and could cause a problem if he kept nosing around.
Not coincidentally, Brian was sure,
this happened to be the same girl those dolts in the Everglades had fired at. He must be sure that no mention of that showed up anywhere. Brian had been appalled by the two hired guns from De Brandt Minerals who had been in place when he arrived. He couldn’t believe anyone would hire such imbeciles. They had shadowed Hickman around for a while and on one of those occasions at a remote campsite, had been caught by surprise and confronted by a slip of a girl. They were so inept that instead of disarming her with a ready-made story, they had interrogated and then shot at her, almost killing her.
That was one reason Brian was here. The powers that be had decided then and there that they needed a more experienced hand on the job. Brian was wryly amused at the restrictions placed on him, given that two morons had already had plenty of opportunity to blow the operation wide open. The dolts passed on only one item of interest before they were packed off home. They did a background check on the Seminole who was with the girl at the camp site and after learning that he was a scientist who knew Myles Hickman, they alerted Brian.
Brian had tossed the Indian’s office as carelessly as possible. It deeply offended his sense of professionalism. It was bad enough to be given a task consisting mostly of breaking and entering, but to be forced to do it so ineptly was too much. Nevertheless, it was necessary for his cover. He found nothing of interest except for some odd looking rocks, a couple of which he had purloined and sent off for analysis. The only other thing of interest that turned up was the woman’s name, Sophie. Already his list was getting longer.
Now he would take a look at the Hickman residence. Brian wasn’t too hopeful that he would find anything useful. He thought Hickman was way too smart to leave anything lying around in his home, especially given the domestic situation, but you never knew. Got to start somewhere. Brian checked his watch. It was time.
Thirteen
Yokche:The Nature of Murder Page 4