by Sala, Sharon
When she set it back in front of him, he purposefully licked the outside of the glass where her hand had been and then grunted—slightly salty with a hint of lime.
****
Anson’s footsteps echoed within the house as he walked across the new kitchen floor on his way out the door. The house was shaping up nicely, and he had a field ready to harvest. He liked setting goals, and liked it even better when they were accomplished. He was close—so close—to seeing this one through, but tonight he was in the mood to mingle, and dressed fit to the task.
He locked the door as he left for dinner and drove into New Orleans with a destination already in mind. It was almost 9:30 p.m., which meant he’d be on a wait list for a table, but he had nothing better to do. Considering the threat Grayson March had given him, he had to assume the guards were behind him, but as long as they didn’t bother him, he’d deal with it.
By the time he finally found a place to park, it was almost 10:00 p.m. He locked the truck and headed up the street, confident he was a man to be admired. He’d taken pains with his clothing. Even though it was summer, Anson favored black and was wearing a suit more suited for fall. His dark hair was as shiny as the dress shoes he was wearing, and he was sporting his grandfather’s gold pinkie ring and his daddy’s Rolex, well aware that if he hadn’t gotten into the business of growing weed, they would have long since been pawned.
He was working the look and the strut, savoring the attention he was getting as he walked the eleven blocks to his restaurant of choice. When he entered, the aromas reminded him of why he’d come. He approached the smiling hostess with a swagger.
“Good evening, sir. Welcome to Adelaine’s. How many will there be in your party?”
“Just one,” he said, flashing a quick smile that never reached his eyes.
Her reaction was somewhere between a giggle and a sigh, and he allowed himself a moment to picture her beneath him, begging for mercy.
“Your name?” she asked.
“Poe.”
She giggled. “As in Edgar Allen?”
“No darlin’. As in Anson.”
The smile froze on her face and then she blinked, which told him she was a local or she wouldn’t have recognized the name.
“There will be a thirty-minute wait.”
“I’ll be in the bar,” he said, then winked and walked away.
****
Anson had been right on target about Grayson March’s guards. Parker and Roberts, the two who’d been assigned to keep tabs on him, were on his tail the moment he drove away from Wisteria Hill. When he parked, they parked too and followed him on foot, one man behind him, and the other on the opposite side of the street. From the way Poe was dressed, it seemed apparent he was up for some fine dining, and when he entered Adelaine’s, they knew their assumptions had been right. They met up at the street corner.
“You take the back entrance,” Parker said. “I’ll watch the street.”
Roberts disappeared within the foot traffic as Parker stepped into the shadows of the alley behind him, making sure he had a clear view of the front entrance before he made a call.
“Boss, it’s me, Parker. You told us to let you know when he came into the city, and he’s here.”
Grayson frowned. “Where?”
“He just went into Adelaine’s, dressed to kill.”
“Poor choice of words,” Grayson said. “Don’t lose him.”
“Yes, sir. We have eyes on both exits.”
“Fine. Carry on.”
When the line went dead in Parker’s ear, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was alone. A few moments later, he got a text from Roberts telling him he was in place. He texted back “OK” and settled in to wait.
****
Anson sauntered up to the bar and raised his hand. The bartender caught his gaze.
“Whiskey, neat,” Anson said, watching as the bartender poured his shot.
When he slid a ten-dollar bill across the bar and walked away with his drink, the extravagance was not missed by the people around him. It was exactly what he intended. He took a quick sip as he strolled through the crowd.
A few people nodded as he passed, but no one struck up a conversation, which was fine. He wasn’t here to visit. He was here to remind New Orleans of his place in society. He’d been born with a very tarnished, but very silver spoon in his mouth, and it didn’t hurt to remind them of that now and then. After five minutes or so of mingling, he set his empty glass on the tray of a passing waitress and headed for the men’s room.
****
It was Saturday night, which meant business in Frenchie’s was brisk. Besides the front entrance where most of Lisette’s customers entered for the Cajun food that she served, there was the side entrance in the alley where her more important clientele came and went without being observed. These were judges and councilmen, businessmen and ship captains who’d made prior appointments, the men who paid big money for her best girls.
Anson thought about what was going on there as he took a piss and was once again reminded of Lisette’s insult. He didn’t know for sure when it would happen, but it only seemed fair that the big shots who fucked the same women he’d fucked got smoked out with her.
When he got back to the bar, he ordered another drink, and was still sipping it when his name was called. He returned to the front of the house and followed a waiter to his table. After the amenities were passed, he continued to nurse his drink while quietly surveying the other diners.
It wasn’t long before they began to hear sirens. Moments later, someone’s cell phone rang, and then another, and another, and all of a sudden there was a roomful of people taking calls and checking messages.
When someone suddenly shouted, “Frenchie’s is on fire!” he stifled a grin.
****
Lisette Branscum’s entire life was wrapped up in Frenchie’s. She lived on the premises, ran the deli-style café on the ground floor like she was feeding people out of her own home, knew most of her customers by their first names, and didn’t have a moment’s regret that she ran a discreet brothel/invitation-only poker game on the second floor. The fact that prostitution was illegal didn’t worry her because most of her customers were the movers and shakers who ran the city.
Downstairs, the café was packed with a waiting line out the door. Saturday night was always busy, but tonight her servers were running to keep up—just the way she liked it.
She was at the front of her restaurant, critically eyeing the blades on the ceiling fans and wondering when they’d last been dusted, when one of the kitchen staff darted into the room.
Lisette saw the look on the girl’s face and her gut knotted.
“Patty! What’s wrong?”
“Ma’am! Ma’am! The basement is on fire. Chef said to tell you the back stairs are impassable.”
“Have you called 911?”
“Chef called. He’s the one who found it.”
“Then go tell the kitchen staff to exit the premises now.”
The reaction was instantaneous.
The waiting customers who’d been standing nearby bolted. The seated diners noticed the exodus, and it didn’t take long for the reason why to spread, although Lisette had already taken charge and was making the announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a small fire on the premises. Please make your way carefully out the exit. Forget your tab. It’s on the house.”
The diners reacted far better than those waiting in line had done, but they were getting their cue from Lisette, and not a panicked waitress.
However, the occupants of her upstairs rooms caused her the most concern. Not only did she need to get them out safely, but it would behoove her to do it as inauspiciously as possible, or the cash cow side of her business would certainly be over.
She grabbed two of her waiters and began issuing orders. “Charlie, see that the customers all get out safely. Tommy, make sure the bathrooms are empty and then both of you leave. I’m going
upstairs.”
The skirt she was wearing was a long red and black print. She thought it was classy, but class was the last thing on her mind as she hitched it up above her knees and ran up the back stairs in an all-out dash. She hadn’t been this scared since the night one of her johns pulled a knife and put out her eye. The moment she reached the second floor, she began hammering on doors.
“Fire! Fire! Get out! Get out!”
Within seconds, doors began opening and half-naked men were running out with their shoes and shirts in their hands, heading for the back stairs.
“No! No! The back stairs are impassable,” she cried and grabbed one of her girls. “Carly, take them through my apartment. There is a fire escape on the outside of my bedroom window. The rest of you girls go out the front door downstairs with everyone else. At best we can claim there was a private poker game in progress if the men are seen, but it would be a damn good idea if everyone was dressed before you go down that ladder or the story will never fly.”
“Mon Dieu,” someone moaned, while another man chose a more colorful epithet.
“I am so fucked.”
Lisette sighed. Even if she got everyone out without incident, she might not recover from this after all.
****
Julie was getting ready to take a ten-minute bathroom break when people began getting phone calls and texts about the fire. After that, the news spread swiftly through the bar. The Black Garter was too close to Frenchie’s to ignore what was happening. She darted out from behind the counter and headed for the manager’s office. Jack needed to know.
Jack Michaels was a short, sixty-something man with a thick head of hair he kept black on the assumption that hair dye was defeating the aging process. He had been the manager at The Black Garter for over twenty-three years, and the only real physical danger the bar had ever faced was Hurricane Katrina, but that might be about to change.
She knocked once then strode in without waiting for an invitation. “Jack! Frenchie’s is on fire. Do you want to evacuate the premises?”
“Oh hell,” Jack said and headed for the back entrance.
He smelled smoke the moment he opened the door. When he looked up over the rooftops and saw the orange flames against the night sky, the hair stood on up on the back of his neck. He’d watched his grandfather’s home burn to the ground when he was ten. It was a horror he’d never forgotten.
“Lord have mercy,” he whispered, then turned around. Julie was right behind him. “Get the guys to start emptying the place. I’m calling Grayson.”
Julie ran back into the bar, but the place was already a melee. She reached for her phone, but before she could call Brendan, he called her.
“Julie! Where the hell are you?”
“I was with Jack. He said evacuate now.”
“On it. I’ll tell the others.”
She started to tell him she’d meet him out front, but he’d already hung up. Ever her father’s daughter, she headed for the bar to empty the registers, and was almost there when someone grabbed her arm. She turned, saw nothing but the fist coming at her, and then everything went black.
Chapter Six
Brendan and Marco were in the street answering questions and directing customers to safety, while Deuce was checking through the bathrooms to make sure every room was vacant.
Toni and Wynn, the other two bartenders, were frantically emptying the registers as Jack came running into the room.
“Just put everything in here,” he said, as he slid the deposit bag down the counter, then began eyeing the dirty tables and scattered chairs with a heavy heart. It took him a moment to realize Julie was gone.
“Hey, Wynn, where’s Juliette?”
The bartender shrugged. “I haven’t seen her since she left to tell you what was happening.”
Jack frowned. “I sent her back here to tell the guys to empty the place. Maybe she’s with Brendan. Where is he?”
Deuce overheard Jack’s comment as he came in from the back. “It’s all clear in the back. Brendan and Marco are still outside. I’ll see if she’s with them.”
He left at a jog, but within moments Brendan came running back inside, a panicked expression on his face. “What do you mean Julie’s missing?”
Jack frowned. “I didn’t say she was missing, I just wondered where she was.”
“She didn’t come out the front. I thought she was in here,” Brendan said. “Maybe she’s in the bathroom. Did anyone—?”
“I already cleared them,” Deuce said.
Brendan felt sick. All of the weeks he’d been so careful to keep an eye on the man at the bar, and the moment he looked away, this happened. He wouldn’t let himself finish the thought and headed for her co-workers.
“Toni, Wynn, did either one of you see her crazy stalker leave the bar?”
Jack frowned. “What crazy stalker?”
Brendan was already on the phone calling her number as he answered.
“She called him the troll. He was one of her regulars, but a real weird customer. She was already spooked tonight because she said he was acting strange. We need to check the security cameras.”
Jack was starting to worry. “Damn it! Who else knew about this?”
Toni shrugged. “We all knew. He wouldn’t let anyone take his order but Julie. He doesn’t talk to her, just stares at her all the time. It freaks her out.”
Now panic was setting in. “Why am I just now hearing about this?” Jack asked.
Brendan heard his call go to voice mail. “Damn it! No answer. Please, Jack. We need to check the security cameras.”
Jack waved at the bartenders as they handed him the deposit bags. “Toni, you and Wynn go home. We’ve got this.”
Toni’s voice was shaking. “I sure hope she’s okay.”
“Come on, kid, I’ll walk you out,” Wynn said and escorted her from the bar as Brendan and the other two bouncers followed Jack back into the office.
“Deuce, keep an eye on that fire for me,” Jack said.
Deuce did a U-turn and headed for the back door.
Jack had already shut down the computer system and had to reboot it. Waiting for it to come back online was torture.
“Have you called Grayson?” Brendan asked.
“About the fire, but not this. He’s on his way down,” Jack muttered. “Okay, we’re up and running. Give me a couple of seconds…”
His voice trailed off as he began accessing the cameras and, one by one the individual screens went live.
“Now we need to go back on the timeline and see what we have,” Jack muttered.
“You won’t need to go back more than fifteen minutes because that’s about how long it’s been since I talked to her,” Brendan said.
“Got it,” Jack said, and a few moments later, he began to point at the screens. “Okay, everything looks normal here. Customers are still in their seats. Oh look, this must be where the news begins to spread because everyone begins answering phones and sending texts.”
Brendan was focused on the camera aimed at the bar and the stage behind it. The dancers were still performing when he caught a glimpse of Julie’s head moving back and forth among the customers. She was so small he could barely see her, but she was there, so he began watching for the footage for a glimpse of the man in question.
“There, that’s the guy,” Brendan said, pointing at the broad back and bald head.
“Can’t see his face from this angle,” Jack said and began looking at the other cameras.
“There goes Julie!” Marco said, pointing to a different screen showing Julie suddenly running out from behind the bar.
Brendan saw the bald-headed man throw money on the counter and take off after her.
“There! Look! The son-of-a-bitch is following her!”
They saw her move out of view, then picked her up on a different camera as she went into Jack’s office, then again as she and Jack went down the back hall. Another camera picked her up she came running back into the bar
.
When they saw her take out her phone, Brendan pointed.
“That’s when I called her. She told us Jack said to clear the bar, and that’s the last time I talked to her.
“Oh! Oh, son of a- bitch!” Jack moaned as he pointed at a different screen. They were witnessing her abduction.
There was a momentary look of shock on Julie’s face before the man hit her. He caught her before she fell, threw her over his shoulder, and went out the back door while everyone else was running for the front.
Brendan was in shock. The act was so brazen he could hardly believe it was real.
“I’m calling the police. Pull up the shots on the back exit,” he said, and then the 911 dispatcher answered and he began giving her the information while trying not to panic. Time was still on their side, but this was a nightmare. He couldn’t believe they’d let this happen.
Jack scanned the footage, groaning again as the camera caught the abductor walking out with Julie slung over his shoulder like it was of no concern.
Jack pointed. “There he goes... down the back alley.”
Brendan pocketed his phone.
“The cops are on the way.” He pointed at a frontal shot of the man’s face frozen on another screen. “He’s been coming in here for over a month, leaves about fifteen minutes before we close, and I’ve tried more than once to see where he goes, but he always disappears in the crowds. I’m going out the back door to see if anyone’s in the alley. Maybe they saw something.”
All of a sudden, they heard footsteps coming down the hall, and before Brendan could leave, Grayson March strode into the office. It was obvious by his mode of dress that he’d been at some formal affair.
“What’s the plan? Have you talked to anyone at the fire department? Do we know if the fire has jumped buildings yet?”
When no one answered, he realized something else was happening. “What? Talk, damnit! I’m not a mind reader!”