A-List

by D P Lyle

  Owen nodded. “She is. But she wouldn’t have anything to do with this. She’s a good girl. Very nice and definitely not a drug user. Big in her church.” He kicked at the gravel. “Besides, she had to leave school. Her mom’s sick. She ain’t been around for a while.”

  “That’s what we heard.”

  “Let me ask you,” Ray said. “What about Robert and Kevin? Would they do this?”

  “I don’t much see how.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Kristi treated a little better by Tony than her brothers were?”

  “No doubt there.”

  “So, could sibling rivalry be at work here?” Ray asked.

  Owen sighed. “Could be. But I don’t think so.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “My impression is that she protected her brothers. From Tony’s wrath. They were always screwing up, but Kristi stood up for them. Over and over. Calmed Tony down. I’ve seen it a few times over the years.”

  “I suspect that’s true.”

  “Fact is, now that Kristi’s gone, wouldn’t surprise me none if Tony cut them loose. He only tolerated them for her sake. At least that was my take.”

  “I think you’re in the majority there,” I said. “But just so we’re on the same page here, you don’t think they would’ve done anything to harm her.”

  “I don’t see that as possible.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “But I guess I could be wrong. My brain isn’t exactly working well about now.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  AS SOON AS we entered the front door of the Monteleone, a dude stepped into our path. Stocky, Hispanic, dark menacing eyes, a scowl on his face.

  “You the guys that leaned on Ragman this morning?” he asked.

  “Who are you?” Ray asked

  “Chapo. I work for Ju Ju.”

  “Congratulations.”

  Chapo’s eyes narrowed. “I know you’re the dudes.” He jerked his head toward Pancake. “Couldn’t be no one else like him around here.”

  Ray nodded. “Pancake is one of a kind.”

  Pancake took a step toward him. Chapo took a half a step back, tensing. Fists loose at his side.

  “What are you?” Pancake asked. “The engraved invitation?”

  Chapo stared at him for a beat. “Consider me your escort.”

  “To where?” I asked.

  “Boss man wants a sit-down.”

  It’s good to be popular. Most times. Not always. Suddenly it seemed that everybody wanted to talk to us.

  “Why does Ju Ju want to chat with us?” I asked.

  “He don’t like folks making waves in his world.”

  “Where exactly is his world?” Ray asked.

  “You’re standing in it.”

  Ray smiled. “Truth is, we’d love to see your boss.”

  “Ain’t far. Over in the Treme. Near Armstrong Park. Ten-minute walk.”

  “We’ll drive.”

  Not waiting for a response, Ray exited through the front door to the sidewalk. We followed. Around the corner to the parking garage. The valet we had handed off Pancake’s truck to was shuffling down the ramp.

  Pancake raised a hand. “Sorry. Need my truck.”

  The young man stopped, jingled the keys in his hand. “No problem. Be right back.”

  He was and we climbed in. Chapo in back with me. He rubbed a hand over the leather.

  “Nice ride.”

  “It functions,” Pancake said. He spun left out of the entrance, stopping at the Royal Street intersection. “Where to?”

  “Up here a few blocks.” Chapo pointed to his right. “Then left on Saint Ann.”

  Five minutes later, we pulled up in front of Ju Ju’s place. Looked nice. Yellow, white trim, flowers. Not exactly what I expected.

  Inside, three girls lounged on a sofa, watching TV. Looked like a Lucy rerun. White, black, Hispanic. One of each. Attractive in a trashy sort of way. They paid little attention to us.

  “Ju Ju likes pretty things,” Chapo said, explaining the three young ladies.

  Speaking of young, I wondered if any of them were street legal. “Looks like he has an entire charm bracelet,” I said.

  Chapo actually smiled at that.

  In the kitchen, we picked up a skinny black dude, Stormy, according to Chapo, and then we were outside. Nice yard. Tree-shaded, lots of flowers. The kind of place where you expected kids to play. No kids, just a large black guy, white hair, sitting at a picnic table. Ju Ju, no doubt.

  He closed the laptop before him and looked up. “Thanks for dropping by.” He waved a hand toward the bench seat across from him. Ray and I sat. Pancake stood at the end of the table, arms folded over his chest. Chapo and Stormy loitered behind Ju Ju, trying to look serious and scary.

  “So, what can we do for you?” Ray asked.

  “A better question might be what I can do for you, Mr. Longly?”

  “What might that be, Mr. Makin?”

  I thought I caught a moment of surprise in Ju Ju’s face. As if he hadn’t expected Ray to know his real name. He covered it quickly and smiled.

  “I know a bit about you,” Ju Ju said. “Longly Investigations. Over in Gulf Shores. And this is your boy Jake, and he’s your road grader. Pancake. Tommy Jeffers.”

  “You’ve done your homework,” Ray said.

  “Always do.”

  “So do we. Junior Makin, Junior. Aka Ju Ju. Smart enough to stay out of the drug trade, but you’ve carved yourself another niche in that world.”

  “Sounds like you’ve had a sit-down with Detective Doucet.”

  Ray shrugged, opening both palms toward him.

  Ju Ju spread his own hands on the table. “Now that we got all the rooks, knights, and bishops positioned on the board, let’s talk business.”

  Ray gave a quick nod. “Let’s.”

  “I’m interested in your visit to Ragman. I think you can see why I can’t have folks knocking my people around. Wouldn’t look good.”

  “Actually, tossing,” Pancake said. “I didn’t really knock him any. Maybe a little love tap.”

  Ju Ju gave him a slight smile. Didn’t look very sincere. More menacing, in fact.

  “Ragman tells me you guys threatened him. Said you had some kind of badass hitters you could bring in.”

  “Not hitters,” Ray said. “Ex-military. Special forces.”

  “I got my own soldiers,” Ju Ju said. “Bunch of them.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  Ju Ju smiled. Gave a slight nod as if to say, “you can bet on it.”

  “Truth is,” Ray said. “Sure, I could bring folks in, but mostly I wanted to rattle Ragman’s cage. He had a bit of an attitude and needed a jolt.”

  “A little attitude adjustment never hurts.” Another smile. “But I don’t think either of us wants to stroll down that bloody road.”

  Ray nodded. “You’d be right.”

  “Good. Good. Glad we got that settled.” Ju Ju leaned back. The butt of a weapon appeared. Beneath his shirt, shoved down into the waist of his jeans. “I know you guys were hired by Kirk Ford, or the studios, whoever, to try to extract that boy from the mess he got hisself into.”

  “It is a mess,” I said.

  “And I assume you’re trying to find someone else to pin it on?”

  “If someone else did it,” Ray said.

  “You have doubts, I take it?”

  “Everyone does. Doesn’t look good for Ford. But we wouldn’t be doing our job if we didn’t look under all the rocks.”

  “And that’s where our worlds collide, so to speak,” Ju Ju said.

  “How’s that?” I asked.

  “You’re thinking that if you can connect the dots between the bump and Ford and Kristi Guidry, you just might stumble on someone who can supply that reasonable doubt you need to pull your boy’s bacon out of the fire? Something like that?”

  “If that’s where it leads,” Ray said.

  “But to do that you’ve
got to shake things up on the streets. My streets. That makes people nervous. Gives me headaches I got to deal with.”

  “Not to mention getting Tony Guidry’s nose out of joint.”

  “That’s never good for anyone,” Ju Ju said.

  “I take it you and Tony have some mutual interests?” Ray asked.

  Ju Ju hesitated. “Tony and I go way back. Been friends a long time. As for any interest, that’s between me and him.”

  “I understand. And those arrangements aren’t my concern or interest.”

  “That’s good. Better for everyone that way.”

  Ray nodded. “I take it you have a proposal?”

  “I do.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Let me do the sniffing. I have better contacts and can make fewer troubles.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “I’ll do that. As a courtesy,” Ju Ju said. “Sort of a welcome to my city.”

  “All we want is to find out where that shit came from,” I said. “See if that trail leads us to someone who had a reason to drug a couple of people. And kill one them.”

  “And frame the other?” Ju Ju asked.

  “Something like that,” Ray said.

  “Consider it done. I’ll be in touch.”

  We had been dismissed. We left.

  As we drove away, I asked Ray, “What do you think?”

  “I think we just got warned away from snooping around.”

  “Ain’t going to happen,” Pancake offered.

  “But do you think Ju Ju will help us?” I asked.

  Ray shook his head. “Not a chance. It’s just a smoke screen. I think the ketamine came from Ju Ju’s world. Had to have. And he don’t want any spotlights shined on his operation.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  NICOLE AND I slept in the next morning. It had been a late night. Before heading over to K-Paul’s for dinner, we had gathered in the Monteleone bar with Pancake, Sophie, and the twins. Ray had declined, opting for room service and doing some computer work. Kirk had also begged off, saying he was going to crash early.

  Nicole did it again. As soon as the twins walked into the Carousel Bar and sat on the sofa opposite us, Nicole knew which was which. What really pissed me off is she wouldn’t tell me how she knew. She can be such a bitch sometimes. All through drinks, lots of drinks, and dinner, I examined them. What did she see? Nose, ears, eyes? I even looked for freckles. Being so perfect, neither had any. What the hell was it? Made me crazy.

  I woke before she did, flicked on the bedside lamp, and began reading my self-defense book. Got most of the next chapter covered before she rolled over, rubbed her eyes, and asked what time it was.

  “Eight thirty.”

  She stretched. “My head feels like the Red Army marched through.”

  “They did.”

  She looked at me and blinked.

  “You and the twins did a few Stoli shooters for dessert.”

  “I forgot. But I’m starting to remember.” She suppressed a yawn. “I wonder how many brain cells I sacrificed last night.”

  “An army.”

  “Why didn’t you stop me?”

  “I’m only one man. How could I stop an entire army?”

  She laughed. “Isn’t there a chapter on that in your book?”

  “I haven’t gotten there yet.”

  “Read faster.”

  I closed the book and laid it on the bedside table. “So, tell me.”

  She propped up on her elbow. The covers fell way, revealing one breast. “Tell you what?”

  “How you know which twin is which?”

  “Not that again.” She fell back on the pillow, pulling the covers up to her chin. “You asked me that a hundred times last night.”

  “And you wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Still won’t.”

  “Why?”

  She rolled toward me. “Because I like messing with you.”

  “You are evil. You know that?”

  “I work at it.” She sat up. “Let’s jump in the shower, and I’ll show you evil.”

  How could I argue with that?

  We did. She did. Wow.

  Afterwards, I slipped on jeans, a tee shirt, and sandals, and while Nicole blow-dried her hair, I walked down the hall and rapped on Ray’s door. He was on the computer. A room service tray sat beside the TV. Looked like the remnants of breakfast—eggs, bacon, and toast. Oh, and two empty Mountain Dew cans. Ray’s usual breakfast.

  “What’s on the agenda today?” I asked.

  “On the Kirk Ford situation? Not much. Pancake and I are going to sort through all the material we have on the fraud case over in Pensacola. Ton of papers to go through.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “What’s your take on Kirk’s ordeal?”

  Ray shook his head. “The truth is that we don’t have much. Unless something else pops up, I’m not sure we have a lot to offer.”

  I sighed. “Looks that way. And you don’t see Ragman or Ju Ju being any help?”

  “Doubt they’ll even try. Why would they? I don’t see them exposing any of their dealers or customers to outsiders. Why ask for trouble?”

  I nodded.

  “And if we can’t find someone who has a connection to Ford or Kristi, someone who bought ketamine off the street, that’ll be a dead end anyway.”

  “My take is that the folks Ragman told us about will be a big zero.”

  Ray rubbed his neck. “True. And they were likely all tourists, like he said, and his descriptions were so generic that there aren’t any trails to follow.”

  “Frustrating.”

  “Some cases are just that way. Pancake is sniffing around Ju Ju’s world. Trying to see if there is anyone else we should look at. But so far, nothing of interest there.”

  “Nicole and I are going out to the set. Unless you need us to do anything.”

  “Have fun.” He pulled open the small fridge beneath the TV and grabbed another Dew. I left.

  * * *

  Nicole and I stood along the banks of the swamp and watched the scene unfold. Across the water where earlier the Yaktous’ village had stood. It was more rubble than village now, the Korvath onslaught having done its damage. I felt sorry for the Yaktous. They seemed like nice people.

  Kirk, shirtless, and the twins in their skimpy “uniforms,” were scurrying among the flattened, shredded, and tilted huts, exchanging imaginary laser weapon fire with imaginary attackers. Looked pretty silly. I mean, adults in goofy outfits, firing plastic ray guns at, well, nothing. Moviemaking at its finest. The attackers and the red and green laser blasts would of course be digitally added back in LA and the whole thing would come to life. I was sure it would thrill every Space Quest fan.

  “What the hell’s going on over there?”

  I turned to see Detective Doucet.

  “Major battle,” Nicole said. “Life and death stuff.” She laughed.

  “Sort of takes all the magic away when you see how it’s done,” he said.

  “What brings you by?” I asked.

  “Need to chat with Kirk Ford.”

  “Did something come up?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll wait until I can sit with him.”

  “Sounds intriguing,” Nicole said.

  Doucet shrugged. “You might say that.”

  “Can you at least give us a hint?” I asked.

  “Rather not.” He looked across at the action. “How long until the battle’s over?”

  “Twenty minutes or so,” Nicole said. “According to the schedule, anyway.”

  He nodded.

  “Coffee?” I asked.

  “Sure.”

  The caterers had just brewed a fresh pot so we grabbed cups and sat at one of the picnic tables. Small talk followed, but Doucet offered nothing. He kept glancing toward the ongoing battle, antsy written all over him. Like he wanted to
get on with something that was eating at him. What could it be? Had to be important for him to drive out here and be so secretive. The suspense was much thicker than the intergalactic war Kirk was waging.

  Thirty minutes later the crew and extras appeared, followed by Kirk and the twins. When Kirk saw Doucet, he slowed, surprise on his face. Or was it fear? Maybe that was too strong a word, but a healthy dose of concern for sure.

  “Detective,” he said. “What brings you out here?”

  Doucet stood. “We need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  Doucet looked around. “Somewhere else.”

  “My trailer.”

  We moved that way. Doucet stopped. “Alone.”

  “We need to hear this,” I said.

  “Not yet.”

  “I’d feel better if they did,” Kirk said.

  Doucet hesitated. “Okay. But no one else.”

  Once we settled inside the trailer, Doucet jumped right in.

  “I need to ask you about the women on the set.”

  “What about them?”

  “You have an issue with any of them?”

  Kirk look perplexed. I was, too.

  “What do you mean?” Kirk asked.

  “Any problems. Any bad blood, as it were.”

  “No.”

  “Think carefully. Anyone you had a disagreement with? Anyone you slept with? Or dumped? Or pissed off? Or anything?”

  Kirk now looked scared. “No one. This has been a very relaxed and friendly shoot.”

  “What about before? Any of them have a history with you?”

  “No.” He looked at me, Nicole, back to Doucet. “What are you asking?”

  Doucet rubbed his chin. “From the beginning, I didn’t think DNA would be part of this case. Even if your DNA was found under Kristi’s fingernails, there could be several innocent explanations.” He shrugged. “I was wrong.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Got a call from the ME. There was tissue and DNA found under Kristi’s nails. Under one, anyway.” He looked at Kirk. “And it isn’t yours.”

  “That’s good? Right?” Kirk said.

  Doucet shrugged.

  “What does that mean?” Nicole asked.

  “It means Kristi scratched someone else,” Doucet said.

  “Who? When?”

  “The when is easy. The tissue was fresh. ME is sure of that. But the who is unknown.”