She slowed her pace, wishing like hell she could've avoided him and another potential confrontation, at least until she'd gotten a decent night's sleep and had the strength and self-discipline to mind her tongue.
'Los clearly didn't share her concerns as his strides only grew longer and more determined.
She watched in morbid fascination as the two men chewed up the space between them like a pair of angry bulls. For a second, she worried they were going to throw down right there, but Flynn slowed to a stop a yard in front of 'Los, ending their game of chicken.
"I let you get away with one," Flynn muttered, holding up a shaking finger. "One. But if you ever take a swing at me again, you better make sure I don't get up."
"Consider it done," 'Los replied, shifting the box to prop it on one hip. "And since we're handing out warnings, here's one for you." He bent low, until he was eye to eye with the patrolman. "If you don't start putting some respect on my partner's name, you're going to wind up eating through a straw. You can take that to the bank."
He didn't wait for Flynn's reply as he shouldered past him and then turned to face her.
"You coming?"
"Yeah." She walked toward him, keeping her eyes on Flynn in case he had truly gone off the deep end and did something stupid. He let her pass untouched, mean-mugging her the whole way.
"You two think you're untouchable, but you're not," Flynn called after them as they walked away. "One of these days, somebody is going to pop those inflated heads of yours and you're both going to come crashing back to earth. I just hope I'm in the front row to see it happen."
They continued on to their desks in silence. When they got there, 'Los set down the box and shot her a probing look.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine," she murmured, glancing around to make sure no one else was paying attention to them. "But you're going to have to stop fighting my battles for me. We both have to work with Flynn, and the quicker this thing ends and gets back to normal, the better. Let him talk, 'Los. Who cares?"
"I care," he hissed back, his eyes blazing. His jaw clenched and then he took a step back and held up both hands in surrender. "Fine. Next time he starts yapping, I'll keep my mouth shut. There's a line, though, Luck. And if he pushes it again, I can't be—"
Her desk phone rang and she groaned. "We'll talk about it later." She picked up the receiver, holding it to her ear. "Strickland."
"It's Frankie Lewis. You wanted me to get in touch after I made some inquiries about Mel."
He sounded like he'd rather be getting a root canal than calling her.
"Okay, what've you got?"
"Exactly what I expected to get. Not fuckin' much," Frankie shot back. "Mel didn't owe anybody else money, or if he did, they don't feel like talking about it. He was screwing a stripper named Brandi as of a month or so ago. Word is, he was having trouble getting it up, so it's been awhile since they've spent quality time together. I heard one other thing, but my source is questionable..."
She set down her pad and held the pen at the ready.
"Go ahead."
"Supposably, Mel's kid was also spending quality time with the lady in question, as well."
He dropped that nugget and then silently awaited her response.
"Is that it?" she said, tossing the pen onto the desk.
"Is that it? That's a pretty good piece of information, if you ask me," Frankie protested with a hard laugh. "You got an old guy who can't get his pecker hard and his kid is boning his mistress. Surely, that would cause some familial tensions, don't you think? An argument maybe gets heated, they're fighting over who gets the girl. I just handed you a suspect, Detective. A 'thank you' would be nice."
"Yeah, okay, thanks, Frankie. If I have any more questions, I'll be in touch."
She clicked off and turned towards an expectant Carlos.
"He basically confirmed Brandi's story about her relationship with Xavier. Stands to reason that if other people knew, Mel could've found out and had words with his son over it."
'Los squinted. "Yeah, I guess it's possible that Xavier killed him, but the whole MoMA thing took planning. This wasn't a spur of the moment crime of passion."
Her thoughts exactly.
"So let's make that call to Sal and get Xavier down here in the chair."
22
Two hours later, she and ‘Los were seated across a red-faced Xavier Walsh and his stoic lawyer in the same conference room they’d spent most of their day in. This time, instead of pawing through file folders for something that might help them solve the murder of Bishop Moncrief, they were studying Xavier’s body language for clues that he could’ve had something to do with the death of his father.
Man, did they need a break in one of these cases, and soon. So far, it seemed like they were slogging through mud with no end in sight.
“I’m here because Sal asked me to come and I want to help, but this feels like harassment, flat out. I already told you guys I was with my wife and daughter. How about instead of dragging me down here like some sort of criminal, you do your fucking job and find out who killed my father?”
Xavier Walsh’s whiny tone didn’t exactly lend itself to changing Lucky’s opinion of the man. In fact, it only made her next question that much more satisfying to ask.
“Were you sleeping with your father’s mistress, Xavier?”
The angry color leached from his face as he stared at her.
“W-where did you hear that from?” he stuttered.
“Xavier, I’m going to advise you to stop speaking, for now.” Sal Mancini’s poker face was much better as he leaned in and set the elbows of his thousand-dollar suit on the table. “Detectives, you realize that my clients are the victim’s grieving family members, not suspects, so until or unless you have proof that they had something to do with Mel’s death, I’d appreciate if you treated them as such. Is that understood?”
“I just asked him a simple question, Mr. Mancini. If the answer is no, it’s no.” Lucky turned her attention back to Xavier. “So were you?”
Sal settled back against his seat and shot his client a subtle nod.
“I—we were—” He broke off and tugged at his collar. “Brandi and I knew one another…intimately, yes. But that has nothing to do with my father’s death.”
“Right, but you can understand that we might wonder why you didn’t mention it when we spoke to you the other day at your mother’s house,” ‘Los interjected casually.
Xavier let out a snort. “In front of my mom? Like she hasn’t been through enough, she wants to hear about my father’s mistress?”
“Your mistress, as well, Mr. Walsh,” ‘Los reminded him. “And I see what you mean. Saying something then and there would’ve been embarrassing, but seems like you probably could’ve called us, after the fact. I mean, you had to know we would find out…”
Xavier’s shifty gaze flitted around the room, indicating to Lucky that he had, in fact, not expected them to learn that little tidbit.
“I need a moment alone with my client,” Sal said, rising to his feet and gesturing for Xavier to do the same.
“Sure,” Lucky said with a nod. “You can use conference room B.”
‘Los led them out and returned a minute later.
“You think Sal already knew or no?” he asked as he closed the door.
“Hard to say. He’s a pro. I’m more concerned about whether or not he’s going to let the kid talk,” Lucky replied.
They killed another ten minutes checking emails on their phones before Sal and Xavier re-entered the room.
“My client is prepared to cooperate fully, Detectives,” Sal said as they took their seats. “He does request that, until or unless it becomes necessary to the case, you refrain from divulging the details he’s about to share with you to his mother or his wife.”
Lucky and ‘Los shared a glance.
No harm in agreeing to that since it was up to them to decide what was necessary to the case, which of course, Sal knew. The lawyer was obvi
ously convinced that whatever Xavier was about to share wouldn’t implicate him in any way. His caveat regarding both Mrs. Walshes was a hollow gesture to placate his client and keep him calm. Everyone in the room but Xavier knew that his ugly secret would likely be out before it was all said and done.
It was Sal’s job to ensure the family got through this as cleanly as possible. If the aftermath of a salacious affair was the price they had to pay to see Xavier exonerated of his father’s murder as quickly as possible, so be it.
“Of course,” ‘Los said with a solemn nod. “We don’t want to add to your family’s burden.”
Xavier took a shuddering breath and blew it out. “Fine, yes, I was sleeping with Brandi. Deirdre and I were going through a rough patch, and my dad and I went to the club one night. It was a first. I’d been there before with a couple clients in the past, but never with my dad. He had a party to go to that night in the diamond district, and asked me to tag along. Thought I could drum up some new clients for my business. We both had a few scotches and were feeling good on the way home.” He shifted in his seat, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “He wanted to stop by Zanzi-Bar and I said, sure, whatever. I know it sounds weird, but it didn’t seem like it at the time. He, uh, introduced me to Brandi and something about her…” He wet his lips and shrugged, shamefaced. “Something about her stuck with me.”
“And it didn’t bother you that your father was seeing her?” Lucky asked.
“He always cheated on my mom. It was nothing new. I stopped feeling bad for her in eighth grade when I realized she was never going to leave him for it. Believe me, she’s no easier to live with than he is,” he added with a mirthless laugh. “They have—” He broke off and swallowed hard. “They had their deal, and it was none of my business.”
“But did it bother you that you and your father were essentially sharing this woman’s…affections?” she pressed.
Xavier’s cheeks went red and his nostrils flared. “Not at first. It did after a while, though, yeah.”
“Did you speak to him about it?”
“No. Brandi and I agreed not to tell him we were together and we didn’t flaunt it at the club. I talked to her about it, though. I asked if she would consider making our arrangement exclusive.” He cleared his throat and focused on a space somewhere above Lucky’s left shoulder. “She said she’d think about it. I saw her once more before she sent me a text and ended it.”
“Did she say why?” ‘Los asked.
Xavier shrugged. “She said she was going through some stuff and needed to be alone for a while.”
“Mr. Walsh, did your wife seem to suspect that you were having an affair?” Lucky asked, tapping her pen absently against her notepad.
He fidgeted in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe. She started asking a lot of questions about where I was going, things like that. But she never outright accused me of anything.”
She resisted the urge to glance at ‘Los. So Deirdre had confronted Brandi but not Xavier. Interesting.
“I’ve got to attend a hearing in half an hour, so if we can wrap this up?” Sal asked with a pointed glance at his watch.
‘Los looked at her in question and she nodded.
“We’re all set for now, but it’s likely we’ll need to talk with you again at some point.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Sal said with a frown. “Xavier has given you more than enough information to get you two off the beaten path and back on the trail of Mel’s killer again. Surely, that’s a better use of your time and our tax dollars than nosing around in the Walsh’s family business.”
“We go where the investigation takes us, Mr. Mancini. And if your clients—any of them—are keeping mum about anything else that you think might be of interest, it would behoove them to come forward rather than make us go digging,” Carlos said.
“We’ll keep that in mind.” Sal treated them to a steely stare before leading Xavier to the door. “We’ll expect you to honor your word and keep the details of Xavier’s private life to yourselves unless it’s critical to the case somehow. In that event, we’d appreciate a heads-up beforehand. This family has been through enough without having another bomb dropped on them out of the blue.”
He swept out of the room with Xavier hot on his heels.
She and ‘Los stared after them in silence until they were out of sight.
“Impressions?” he asked.
She closed her notebook and stood. “Same as before. As wormy as he is, even with both motives, I don’t like him for murder. You?”
“Agree.”
“Still, we’ll run it all the way down. See if we can get a subpoena for his phone records and his bank accounts, to start.”
“Sal’s going to go ape-shit,” ‘Los predicted with a half-smile.
They headed out of the conference room and closed the door behind them. They had just gotten back to their desks when her cell phone rang.
She answered it with a frown, not recognizing the number.
“Hello?”
“Evening, Ms. Strickland. It’s Skip from the garage.”
She loosened her death grip on the phone, relieved it wasn’t Stonybrook calling about her dad again. “Hi, Skip. How’d it go?”
“Well, unfortunately, we weren’t able to patch it. The tire was completely destroyed. Probably hard to see in the dark, but there were two big gashes, about six-inches each. We chucked it, rotated them and got you all fixed up with a brand new one. Car is ready for pickup.”
She gnawed on her bottom lip for a long moment, wanting to ask questions but knowing ‘Los was listening.
“Okay, I’ll be there shortly. Thanks.” She hung up and faced her partner with a smile that felt stiff. “My car is ready. I’m going to call it a day and take a Lyft over there now. I’ll make some more calls on the Moncrief case when I get home.”
‘Los cocked his head and studied her. “Why don’t I just run you over to get your car?”
Because she didn’t want him there when she asked Skip the question that was burning in the back of her mind; Could she have hit something that would’ve done that type of damage, or had her tire been intentionally slashed?
She wracked her brain, trying to recall if Flynn had still been at the bar when they’d left. He’d definitely been there when she and ‘Los had gone to talk in the alley. Drunk as he was, would he seriously have gone outside, found her car, and sliced and diced her tire? Seemed more likely he’d have chosen ‘Los’s ride to vandalize…
Then again, she was much less likely to knock his teeth down his throat if she ever found out, unlike Carlos. If Flynn was feeling that salty, she was definitely a better target for him to lash out at.
She shoved her apprehension aside and shook her head.
“That’s okay, I can just take a Lyft.”
“Why waste money on a ride when I can just—”
“No,” she said, her tone sharper than she’d intended. He closed his mouth with a snap and nodded, turning his attention back to his computer screen.
Shit.
“Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep and I’m on edge. I just need to…I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
He gave another curt nod but didn’t look up. She grabbed her purse from inside the desk and then headed out.
She wanted to explain, but what was there to say? Sure, part of the reason she didn’t want him driving her was because she wanted to talk to Skip in private. If ‘Los even got a whiff of the possibility that Flynn was behind her flat tire, the violence last night would seem like a nursery school tussle. But she could’ve just had him pull up and let her out at the garage. She hadn’t because the thought of being alone in the car with him for the next half hour was giving her agita. It had been awkward and stilted between them most of the day, despite the fact that they’d been busy from the jump.
They’d have to get past it, and soon. They were partners and that wasn’t going to change, nor did she want it to. She just needed to regain
her equilibrium.
She made a mental vow to get her car and head straight home. A nice, soothing bath, followed by some mindless trash on TV and eight uninterrupted hours of shut-eye was just the ticket.
Then, tomorrow, she and ‘Los could go back to normal. Before he’d looked at her like that in the alley.
Before she’d seen a glimpse of the man he was behind the easy smile.
Before they’d come way too close to fucking up a great partnership and an even better friendship by shedding light on something that was never, ever meant to see the sun…
23
"Because tits and ass can change your life, it sure changed mi-i-ine!"
The roar of the crowd sang through Brandon’s blood as the last note of his final number rang through the tiny theater. He closed his eyes for a second to relish the sound.
Better than chocolate, better than sex, and a hell of a lot better than that shitty day job.
He bent at the waist in a sweeping bow and then stood, letting the warmth of the spotlight shine his already overheated cheeks, milking the moment for all it was worth. Too soon, burlesque music roared from the tiny orchestra pit at his feet and he sashayed off stage, pausing to blow the audience a kiss.
The second he was out of view, he tugged off his cherry-red pumps and wriggled his toes with a sigh. His arches were killing. Maybe after tonight he would be able to afford to special order some shoes that actually fit.
"Vanity! You were sublime, baby.”
Sharita was new to the show and, so far, Vanity had no beef with her. But she had a softer-heart than most of the other performers at the Kitty Kat Lounge, which meant she likely wouldn't be here long. No point in getting attached.
Brandon smiled and thanked her, but didn't stick around for chitchat.
He made a beeline for the shared dressing room. He would only be doing the early show tonight, because he had somewhere to be.
Keeping his head down as he slipped on sneakers and packed up. Normally, he'd spend a good half hour cold creaming all the heavy stage makeup off. His pores would look like buckets by morning if he slept with it on. But tonight, he opted to leave it. His new friend might as well see Vanity at her very best.
Lucky Break (Lucky Strickland) Page 15