Her gray eyes were on him and her small brow furrowed. “What about the club? Aren’t you supposed to dance tonight?”
“I’ll stop by the club on my way and talk to Matt. We need to have a chat.”
Al tipped her head to the side. “About what?”
He shook his head, trying to appear casual and not wanting to tell her about all that the detective had inferred. Grady wanted to protect Al for as long as he could.
“I just think he should hear about Doug from me,” Grady lied.
Al stepped toward the door. “Then, I guess I’ll see you when you get back.”
He put on an upbeat smile for her. “You can count on it.”
Grady left her apartment and headed to the stairs, feeling the heaviness in his heart cutting off his air. The walls were closing in, but he fought to remain calm, at least until he was away from her. He did not want to let Al see what Doug’s death had meant to him. He had never watched someone die. Holding Doug on that sidewalk, as they waited for help, was the closest he had ever come to death. Images of Doug’s bloody body had never been far from the forefront of his thoughts. Making his way across the landing, he could feel the bitter taste of fear rising in his throat. Choking back the rush of emotions, he concentrated on the task at hand. He needed to get to the club and find Matt.
Much of what Detective Villere had said was still rolling around in his head. Confronting Matt Harrison could be dangerous, but he needed to know, once and for all, that Doug’s death was just a senseless crime, and not a calculated act of revenge.
Chapter 19
The closest parking spot Grady could find to the club was over a block away. When he reached the entrance to The Flesh Factory, the sun was low in the afternoon sky and just about to dip below the rooftops.
Inside, they were gearing up for a busy night ahead. Tables were being set up around the stage by the waitstaff, while technicians were adjusting the spotlights. Grady spotted Nick and another bartender putting away glasses and stocking supplies behind the bar.
“You’re early,” Nick commented, when Grady came up to the long bar.
“Is Matt here yet?”
“Check backstage. He’s probably back there,” Nick told him.
Grady went to the door on the left of the stage and walked inside. Backstage, he found Matt sitting at his wooden desk located against the red-bricked wall. He was talking on his cell phone when he saw Grady coming toward him. He immediately stood from his desk and waved Grady closer. With a sullen expression, Matt tugged at the collar on his rumpled white shirt. His blue suit jacket was hanging from the chair behind him, and his gray tie was slightly askew, making the fastidious businessman appear somewhat disheveled.
“You go ahead and make whatever arrangements you want. I’ll call you back, baby.” Matt hung up the phone. “I already heard about Doug Larson.”
“We need to talk,” Grady asserted, glancing about the open backstage area.
“Yeah, I figured as much.” He motioned to the door that led to the dressing rooms. “We can talk in your dressing room. Lewis isn’t here yet.” He grabbed his suit jacket and slipped it around his shoulders.
The two men retreated down the dark hallway behind the stage door and headed toward Grady’s dressing room.
“How did you know about Doug?” Grady demanded, while Matt shut the dressing room door.
“Detective Villere of the NOPD homicide division paid me a visit. Seems he had a little chat with you at the hospital about Doug. He said he even flat out accused me of having Doug eliminated because of Beverly.” Matt went to the dresser and rested his hip against it. “He said you never cracked during his questioning. He gave me the impression you frustrated the hell out of him. I want to thank you for backing me up.”
“Did he tell you about Colin?”
“Yeah.” Matt nodded. “He asked me what I had to do with the guy’s death, which was nothing. I may have fired the little shit for hitting Beverly, but I didn’t kill him for it. If I knocked off all the guys in this club that slept with my wife, I wouldn’t have a business left.”
“What did happen to Colin?” Grady interrogated.
“I heard he had a problem with more than his temper. The boy was dealing drugs on the side. After I fired him, he was going to skip town still owing some impatient men a lot of money. You can imagine how that went down.”
“I can understand why you fired Colin, Matt, but why blackball Doug?”
Matt let go a long, thoughtful breath. “Beverly cared for him. Hell, she didn’t just care; she was in love with him, for Christ’s sakes.” He tossed up his skinny hand. “I learned a long time ago to ignore my wife’s indiscretions. She would always come back to me when it was done, but Doug was different.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with his death?”
“Nah, I wouldn’t hurt the guy.” He shook his head. “If Beverly found out, she’d probably kill me; or worse, divorce me. I just turned a blind eye to it and figured one day he would move on. Unfortunately, this is New Orleans, and what happened to Doug happens to a lot of people in this town. It was just a stupid accident.”
Grady moved toward the dressing room door. “I’m on my way to the hospital to claim his body. After that, I’m going back to spend some time with Al, so I won’t be dancing tonight.”
Matt held up his hands, giving in. “I already made arrangements for someone else to dance in your place. After I found out about what happened to you and Larson, I knew you would need a few nights off to get your head together.”
“I appreciate that.”
“How are things with you and Allie Cat?”
Grady sighed. “We’re trying to make it work.”
“She’s worth it, Grady. When Clarence, her old man, came to me and asked me to watch over his two little girls, I felt responsible for everything that happened in their lives. After Cassie ….” His voice faded. “I never forgave myself for not stepping in sooner and getting her out of the clubs. I knew it was eating her up inside, but I never knew she was … suicidal.”
Grady opened the dressing room door. “Al told me about what happened. Did you know who the father was?”
Matt knitted his brow. “The father?”
“The father of Cassie’s baby. When she died she was three months pregnant. Al didn’t tell you?”
The color drained from Matt’s face and he fell back against the dressing table behind him. “Jesus, I didn’t know.”
“I thought she told you.”
Matt stood from the desk, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “Cassie was seeing an employee of mine, Kirby Marchand, a few months before she died. Kirby was a bouncer at one of my clubs. He was also married with a baby on the way. I knew he was no good for Cassie, but when I tried to talk to her about him, she blew me off … like Cassie blew everybody off. You couldn’t tell her anything. She was stubborn like that.”
Grady rubbed his hand over his face, feeling tired and raw. “You ever tell Al about Kirby Marchand?”
Matt shook his head. “We didn’t speak after Cassie’s death. Al had just finished nursing school and was preoccupied by her career. When I saw you with her the other day, it was the first time we had really spoken to each other since Cassie’s funeral. There’s no point in saying anything now. It’s in the past.” Matt walked up to Grady and reached into his blue jacket pocket. “Before I forget, I have something for you.” He held out a white envelope to Grady.
“What’s this?” Grady took the envelope.
“Your new long-term contract. I didn’t send it on to Burt yet. I figured I would let you look it over first.”
“Thanks, I’ll read through it and get back to you.” Grady shoved the envelope into the back pocket of his jeans.
“If you ask me, you’re wasting ten percent of your salary on an agent, Grady. You’re a smart, Yale educated guy. You should be able to handle your own negotiations.”
“I’ve been thinking about just that, Matt.
Al wants me to get into being a talent agent for some of the dancers in the Quarter. Who knows?”
Matt raised his dark eyebrows. “You want clients? I’ve got guys and gals in a couple of my clubs, looking for a good agent. Problem is, most of the agents out there don’t take on dancers just starting out. If you’d be willing to represent some new talent, I could send some people your way.”
“I’ll think about it, Matt.”
“You’d be a much better agent than a dancer. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a great dancer, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Seems a shame to waste it. You can’t do this forever. You’ve got to plan ahead.”
“Thanks for the advice.” Grady gave him a curt nod of his head. “I’d better get going. I’ve got to go to the hospital and get Doug’s things.”
“That’s already been taken care of, Grady.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Beverly saw to everything.” Matt placed his hands in his blue suit trouser pockets. “When you walked in, I was on the phone with my wife. I told her about Doug. At first, she cried like hell, and then insisted on going to University Hospital to make arrangements for him.”
“Beverly is making the arrangements?”
“She wants to do it. I can’t refuse her. Hey, I know it sounds strange as hell, but it would make my wife happy, and I always want to make her happy. I may not have liked the guy, but I won’t begrudge him a decent burial. Anyway, Beverly said he had no family … none that wanted him, anyway.”
Grady stared at Matt with a newfound appreciation. “I’ve got to say, Matt, that is very magnanimous of you.”
“Hey, I may own strip clubs, sell watered down liquor, hang out with some shady friends, and have a not so great marriage, but I’m not a heartless bastard. I run clean joints with professional dancers and make sure all my people—customers and dancers—are satisfied at the end of the day. That way I can sleep at night and not end up with a bullet in the back of my head.” Matt paused and his face sobered. “There’s a fine line between dealing in the right side of sin and the wrong side of it. With one, you skirt around the edges of what society thinks is acceptable; with the other, you get lost in that world where human life becomes just another commodity. That’s the true art of sin, my friend, knowing how far you are willing to go before you know you are about to go over the edge.”
Grady thought of Al. Before he came to New Orleans, he would not have been willing to go very far for any woman; now, it was all he could do to keep from tumbling over the edge.
“I’ll be getting back to Al,” Grady said, moving toward the door.
“Take care of her, Grady. Make sure you keep her happy.”
“I’ll try my damnedest, Matt.” Grady opened the door. “What else can I do?”
* * *
Returning to the house on Esplanade Avenue, Grady bounded up the stairs to Al’s third-floor apartment and enthusiastically rapped on her door.
When Al opened the door, she did not appear very pleased to see him, and stood in the doorway, blocking his path. Her usually vibrant eyes were subdued and her thin, pink lips were not smiling, but pulled back in a worrisome grimace.
Alarmed by her appearance, he rushed toward her. “What’s wrong?”
“Who is it, darling?” a man’s voice called from inside the apartment.
Grady’s blood turned to ice when he heard that voice. “Is Geoff here?”
“Grady, please,” she softly said. “He just showed up. Come back later when—”
Grady pushed the door open, cutting off her words. He stepped into the apartment and saw Geoff stretched out on her comfy red sofa with a glass of white wine in his hand.
Geoff banged his drink down on the thick coffee table when Grady barreled up to him.
“What’s he doing here?”
“Geoff, stop it,” Al snapped. “I told you what happened last night. Grady and I have been through a lot together, and he came to see how I was.”
“Come on, Allison, I know what he’s after,” Geoff roared. “He’s just another one of your dirtbag tenants looking to score with a rich woman, so he can be set for life.”
Grady gestured to Allison. “Hey, asshole, at least I’m not some pretentious prick keeping a woman under my thumb by holding a mortgage over her head.”
Astonished, Geoff moved out from behind the coffee table. “You told him? What are you doing telling some thug about our financial affairs?”
“He’s not a thug, Geoff,” Al hollered. “He went to Yale and has a degree in finance.”
“Who gives a shit?” Geoff bolted to her side. “He’s lying to you, just like they all do. Every time one of his kind come into this house, you believe everything they say, let them skip the rent, and then when they drop dead in your rooms, you bury the stupid bastards. When are you going to learn you can’t keep associating with this element?”
“Geoff, enough!” Al exclaimed. She strode up to Grady. “You need to leave.”
“I’m not leaving him alone with you,” Grady loudly balked.
“He’s no better than the other one,” Geoff declared, coming up beside her. “He was in love with you and tried to turn you against me, too.”
“Doug wasn’t in love with me,” Al argued, as she stood between Grady and Geoff. “He was my friend, and he didn’t believe that you were good enough for me, either.”
Geoff’s nostrils flared and his brown eyes widened. “Good enough for you? Jesus, Allison, when are you going to wake up and see this one is just as worthless as the dead guy?”
Grady pushed past Al and headed right for Geoff. His fist hit the doctor squarely on the left side of his jaw, sending him backward. Grady’s right pinkie exploded with pain, but he kept on, balling up his right fist to continue his assault on Geoff.
“Grady, no!” Al screamed behind him.
Geoff caught himself on the arm of the red sofa and stood up again to face Grady. He raised his arm and swung at Grady, but years of dancing had made Grady fast on his feet. He dodged Geoff’s blow and popped back up, punching Geoff once more. When his hand connected with Geoff’s face, he felt the man’s nose cave under his fist.
Blood poured from Geoff’s nostrils as he staggered about, but Grady was not about to let him get off that easily. He cocked back his arm and swung with all his might into Geoff’s face, hitting him across the cheekbone.
Geoff fell to the floor and Grady grabbed at his right hand.
“Enough!” Al screeched.
Grady turned and saw the fury in her face and realized he had gone too far.
She ran to Geoff’s side, while he moaned and rolled around on the floor, grabbing his face.
“Get out of here!” Al shouted at him. “And don’t ever come back!”
Grady stared at her in amazement. Are you kidding me?
How could she be upset with him? He had done what any red-blooded male would have done in the same situation. Infuriated that she would take the side of the idiotic Geoff, Grady marched to the door holding his throbbing right hand.
“You son of a bitch,” Geoff cried out in a high-pitched voice. “I’m going to call the police.”
“You do that, asshole,” Grady challenged and made his way to the open front door.
Grady ran down the stairs to his apartment and slammed the door closed. Holding his right hand, he paced like a caged animal in front of the french windows that overlooked the second-floor balcony.
He could not believe she had done that. It was as if everything they had shared together meant nothing. The same bitter taste he had known after Emma’s betrayal returned and burned the back of his throat. He had trusted another woman, changed his future plans for her, and she had stomped all over his heart. Grady wanted to laugh at his stupidity, but his anger overwhelmed him, making him kick the coffee table in front of him.
You’re a fucking idiot, Grady Paulson, that confounding voice chastised.
Pain from his injured pinkie made Grady ben
d over. He went to the kitchen, opened the freezer door, and retrieved a plastic bag of crushed ice he had kept since first injuring his finger. Gently wrapping the bag of ice around his finger, he returned to the sofa.
When he sat down, something tugged at his back pocket, distracting him. Grady removed the white envelope Matt had given him from his pocket. Looking over the envelope, he shook his head. Maybe staying in New Orleans was a mistake, and another city was just what he needed.
After staring at the envelope for several minutes, he became curious about what the contract contained. He put the bag of ice aside and ripped open the envelope. Spreading the folded white pages out on his coffee table, he was thankful for the diversion as he perused the pages one by one.
A knock on the door pulled him away from the contract. Thinking it was Al, he scrambled from the sofa and leapt for the doorknob. But when he opened the door, it was not Al waiting for him.
Suzie was wearing another of her flimsy nightgowns covered by a sheer robe, which left nothing to the imagination. Tears, trailing black lines down her freshly powered cheeks, marred her mascara, while her sultry red lips were quivering.
“I heard about Doug.” A blonde tendril fell from her upswept hairdo as she held up a bottle of Jim Beam. “I thought perhaps you might like some company.” She nodded to the bottle. “He mentioned somethin’ about you two getting wasted on Beam a few nights ago. I thought we could send him on his way with a bang.”
Grady eyed the bottle and was overcome with images of Doug. “Thanks, Suzie, but I don’t think I’m in the mood for company.”
“I heard you were with him. Is that true?”
“We were heading back from Pat O’Brien’s when this kid came out of nowhere. He flashed a gun and before I knew what was happening, Doug and this kid were on the ground wrestling over the gun.” Grady’s mind replayed the incident as he stared into Suzie’s empty brown eyes. “It was … I don’t know where to begin.”
She stepped inside the door and took his hand. “Baby, you need to get good and drunk, and tell Suzie all about it.”
The Art of Sin Page 21