Southern Harm

by Travis Casey

  "That sounds interesting, but I'd have to convince my boss that there's a story worth pursuing. And I'd need a current story to buy me some time."

  "Oh, you mean something like Miss Davenport being seen dining in the exclusive Roxy Rue's restaurant in Frankfort two weeks ago with one Oscar Novak-Chambers?"

  "Yes!" Melanie squealed. "Tell me more. Tell me everything."

  Louie pulled out a cigar and lit it. "It was a divine May evening. I was dining at Roxy Rue's, and who should come walking in …"

  ***

  … none other than the governor's daughter, Stacey Davenport, draped on the arm of Louisville's most eligible bachelor, Oscar Novak-Chambers. The couple sat at a table next to the kitchen, but they didn't seem to notice, as they were making an open display of their affection for one another between mouthfuls of caviar and, by all accounts, three bottles of champagne …

  "That bitch!" Stacey screamed. "Where'd she get that half-fabricated piece of garbage? And she has the audacity to print it." She slammed the paper on the kitchen table, wobbling her glass of orange juice "I'm going to sue the bitch."

  Her father sat at the other end of the breakfast table, dipping a piece of toast into the runny yolk of his soft-boiled egg. "I must admit, darling, sometimes the freedom of the press amendment is my least favorite one too, but you know you can't sue if there's any truth to the assertion, right?"

  Stacey blew out a breath. "Yes, I know, but where'd she get that information? Or—I should be asking myself—why would Oscar be blabbing about our date?"

  The governor's face lit up. "So it is true, then?"

  "No, it's not. We never had three bottles of champagne, and the table wasn't even that close to the kitchen. Not that I noticed, anyway."

  "And according to Miss Harper, you didn't." His smile radiated.

  "Don't." She glared at the paper. "What did I ever do to her?"

  Conrad walked in with a jug of fresh orange juice and refilled the governor's glass.

  "Well, there's nothing damning in there, darling. Two lovebirds having dinner at Frankfort's most exclusive restaurant—what's wrong with that?"

  "Because we're not lovebirds, and if there was any bird catching going on, it's over. Oscar Novak-Chambers is an insensitive jerk, and if he's not careful, him and Louie Gomez are going to be more than just roommates, they're going to be cellmates." She picked up her juice and slugged it down, then slammed the glass on the table and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  "That's it," she shouted. "Louie Freaking Gomez. He was at Roxy Rue's that night. Oscar was probably banging that Harper bitch in front of Gomez, and she was taking notes while they discussed our date in between humps. I'm gonna kill 'im. I'm gonna kill 'em all."

  "Stacey. What the hell are you talking about? You're not making any sense."

  She dropped her head into her hands, holding her face in her palms.

  "Look, we have bigger issues than what a gossip columnist is putting in the section of the paper that no one reads."

  "Maybe," she mumbled.

  The governor cast a glance toward the butler. "Could you excuse us a moment, Conrad?"

  He dipped his head. "Certainly, sir. If you need anything else, I'll be close by."

  Davenport nodded as Conrad left—leaving the door ajar in case he was needed.

  The governor tapped the table. "Tell me again, what did Oscar say Louie knows about what happened in LA?"

  She pulled her face out of her hands. "Nothing. That's the problem. It sounds like he's digging, but he hasn't found anything—yet. Are you sure that everything has been dealt with? There's no record of what happened? No loose ends?"

  "I've run it through my mind a thousand times. We covered all our bases. I'm just wondering if Louie Gomez is a loose end." He bit into a piece of toast.

  "Granted, if we could get rid of Gomez, we could get rid of one hell of a lot of problems. But we can't just rub him out, can we?"

  Davenport pushed up his glasses but didn't respond.

  Stacey stood up. "In the meantime, I'm going to Louisville and I'm going to talk to that Melanie Harper. I'll give her an article—" she balled up her fist and shook it "—in black and white."

  "Darling, is that necessary? The press takes a shred of truth and sensationalizes it for the sake of selling a few papers. Is it really worth getting into with her over—over what? That you had to sit next to the kitchen?"

  Stacey groaned and plopped back into her chair. "Maybe not. I just don't want to have to explain myself to everyone about me and Oscar, because there is no 'me and Oscar.' "

  Davenport dashed his fist through the air. "Save your fights for the big stuff. Whether you're dating Oscar or not is irrelevant. You focus on locking up bad guys, and I'll focus on getting those new betting laws passed. And together, we'll be the Dynamic Davenports." He thrust his arm in the air.

  "Save it for the campaign rally, Dad." She stood up. "You're right. Louie Gomez's trial is next week. I need to go prepare. And, Dad …"

  He widened his eyes showing her she had his attention.

  "Don't go pardoning the bastard."

  The governor grunted. "As if."

  Chapter 37

  "Melanie will see you now." The dark-haired Oriental woman led the visitor along a wide corridor. They passed several compartments with padded partitions, which divided the open area into sections and established personal space for each reporter. They stopped outside a cubicle with a gray nameplate pinned to the fabric wall—Melanie Harper.

  A redhead stared at a computer screen with her back to the open doorway. The Chinese woman cleared her throat, enticing Melanie to wheel around in her chair and face them. She stood up. "Is this what it took to get you out of your cave?" She smiled and extended her hand. "It's a pleasure."

  They shook hands. "I don't know if it's a pleasure, but I hope it's productive."

  "Productive? Sounds boring." Melanie pointed to a chair to the side of her desk. "Sit."

  "Sit? Sounds like a dog command."

  "If that were the case, I'd be saying 'Speak,' but enough of the dog metaphors. What brings you to see me?"

  "Louie Gomez."

  "Oh, yes. Nice chap. Very informative."

  "He's a liar. You need to retract that story. It's total bullshit."

  "Are you telling me you weren't at Roxy Rue's with Stacey Davenport the night of May 29?"

  Oscar shook his head. "Not the way you portrayed it in your article."

  "If it wasn't a date, this could be even more interesting. Please, tell me what a racing tycoon is doing with the governor's daughter in a flash restaurant if he's not trying to nail her? There must be some political value to her if your motives aren't flesh driven."

  Oscar smiled. "You're still direct as ever, aren't you, Melanie?"

  "Does a bear shit in the woods?"

  "To tell you the truth, I don't really know. I've never seen a bear in the woods. I'd be more inclined to say a bear shits in the zoo."

  That drew a chuckle from Melanie. "Touché. So, are you going to give me the lowdown?"

  Oscar let out a heavy sigh. "Stacey Davenport called and asked me to have a word with you, requesting that you stop printing stories about her and me."

  "And why would I kill a tantalizing story like this?"

  "For one thing, because you exaggerated our behavior and shows of affection in public, and secondly—" he leaned in and whispered "—she already has a boyfriend. And if he finds out before she breaks it off with him, he'll go ballistic." Oscar wasn't sure how true that was, because at one point, he trumped Jett Johnson. But then she threw out that "first mate" crap. Where he stood was anybody's guess, but he needed to get Melanie off their case if he had any chance of resolving things with Stacey. That much he knew.

  And a good boyfriend lie was a better line of diplomacy than the naked truth. Stacey had called him, but her words had been If you don't go down there and straighten that lying bitch out, I'm going down there to shove that
press pass up her ass and hit Print.

  Melanie studied Oscar's face. "I don't buy that story, but if you can give me something better, maybe I'll quit following her love life. Why is she here and not trying murder cases in LA?"

  "That's a bit random, isn't it?"

  "Bear? Zoo?"

  He gave a shrug of indifference. "If that's all you want, that's easy. She came out here to help her dad get elected, and now that he's in office, he needs a woman's point of view on certain issues. She's his advisor. Unpaid, for the record."

  "What's she hiding, Oscar?"

  His face crinkled. "Where are you getting all this stuff? Why are you on a smear campaign against Stacey Davenport?"

  "You know I can't reveal my sources, but I hear there's more to her quick exit from LA than just being a good daughter and political genius."

  "It's that goddamn Louie Gomez, isn't it?"

  Melanie's facial expression confirmed his suspicions.

  "That son of a bitch. He put you up to finding some dirt on Stacey because she starts prosecuting his case next week. He's trying to take her down before the trial, and he's using you to do it."

  Melanie's eyes tightened. "She's trying him in court next week? For what?"

  "Lots. Drugs, keying cars, and other thug stuff. He's facing a hefty stint if she can nail him."

  "Really?"

  Oscar dipped his head.

  She pushed forward in her chair. "But you and her were at Roxy Rue's, right?"

  Oscar gave a nod of confession. "Yes, Melanie, we can't sue you for libel, and your reputation as a journalist is still intact. Although, we weren't that close to the kitchen—give me more credit than that."

  They shared a smile.

  "Tell you what I'm going to do." She slapped her hands on her knees. "I'm going to hold off on any more stories about you and Stacey Davenport for the time being."

  A wave of relief swept over him. At least he could score some points with Stacey for wearing his Batcape and getting Harper to back off. He felt a surge of triumph. "Thanks, Melanie."

  She bobbed her head. "Not at all. And it's not my usual style to highlight worthwhileness, but I hear you're doing good-guy things. Care to comment on the program you and Gomez are working on for disadvantaged youngsters near Cub Run?"

  Oscar looked at his palms, rubbing his thumb along his lifeline. He thought for a moment. At the time, it was a good story to win Stacey over, and good cover while trying to get the governor to hand over a chunk of the state park. But with Stacey likely going back to LA and Louie Gomez going to jail—if he didn't wind up in hell first, there wasn't much reason to keep up the pretense. Besides all that, he didn't have the money to do it. He thought it best to foreshadow the demise of the project rather than up the publicity for a bigger letdown later. "Several issues have complicated the situation, and I'm not sure where it's going at present. We'll have to wait and see. Don't hype it up just yet. I'll let you know."

  "Interesting."

  Oscar stood up. "Thanks, Melanie. I have to run. And yes, it was a pleasure." Oscar turned to leave.

  "Just to let you know—although Mr. Gomez may have an ulterior motive, the lead he gave me on Davenport is not without foundation. I'm going to investigate it. You're off the hook, but your lady friend is going to be the subject of my scrutiny."

  He turned back. "Oh, c'mon, Melanie. Gomez is bitter and sending you on some bootless errand, hoping to find some nude photos of her floating around the internet or something. He needs some blackmail material to get her to drop the charges. You're not going to find anything."

  She shrugged. "Perhaps not. But he's going to pay me well to check it out. I gotta go with it."

  His heart dropped. He hoped to give Stacey nothing but good news, but having a gossip columnist coming after you was anything but liberating. He turned and left.

  ***

  Oscar arrived at the mansion and waited in the living room, armed with a box of chocolates and his dazzling smile. He hoped at least one of them was the treat Stacey was looking for.

  Stacey slipped in through one of the double doors on the other side of the room. "Hello, Oscar."

  Apathy laced her tone. No warm welcome, but she wasn't screaming and shouting either. Oscar would settle for indifference as a small mercy.

  He let his smile light up the room as he held the chocolates forward. "Sweets for my—"

  "Don't give me any of that 'sweets for my sweet,' 'honey for my honey,' crap. I'm not in the mood." She plonked herself on the couch, her lips in full pout. Despite her sour demeanor, she still looked cute swimming in an oversized fluorescent-pink Under Armor hooded sweatshirt with matching tracksuit bottoms.

  Oscar sat next to her and held out the box of chocolates. "Would one of these cheer you up?"

  "I'll tell you what would cheer me up." She took the box from him, ripping off the wrapper and removing the lid. Her finger hovered from one piece to the next until she plucked a long, dark one from the middle. "If Louie Gomez turned up dead in a ditch."

  "Brief not going so well?"

  "He's hired Brad Rosen as his attorney. He's a high-powered big shot—suave, sophisticated, very expensive, and a damn-good defense attorney. But he's wasting his money." She popped the piece of candy in her mouth.

  "Oh?" Oscar perked up. "So, it's going good? You're going to nail him, right?"

  "No, I got a few drugs, but none of the big stuff yet. Gomez is spending loads of dosh on an expensive suit when a first-year public defender could get him off." She scowled at Oscar. "Where the hell is he, by the way? He's supposed to be with you."

  Oscar pressed his finger against her lips. "Forget about Louie. We both know I was never the babysitter type, and he's not going anywhere. If he's got this hotshot defense attorney, he figures he's going to get off anyway, right? So he's not going to do a midnight flit."

  "Oh, I know you're right. I just wanted to torture you for lying to me."

  "Then let me make it up to you. Stick around, Stacey. I don't want you to go back to LA."

  "I got nothing here."

  "You got me."

  "Are you asking me to give up a twenty-million-dollar yacht to stay here to be a moonshine mama?"

  The direct approach didn't work. He obviously needed more finesse. God, she was hard work. Oscar searched the box, pulling out a turtle-shaped chocolate and putting it in his mouth. "The good news is I spoke to Melanie Harper. She's not going to report on us anymore."

  "Good. Thanks, Oscar."

  He nodded. "Sure. However, she's still interested why you left LA so suddenly."

  Her eyes drew tight. "What the fuck difference does it make to her?"

  She wiggled off the couch.

  "Listen to me," Oscar pleaded. "Louie put her up to it. He's paying her to find some scandalous reason why you're here and not out there. He reckons you've got a dark secret, maybe illegal, probably sordid. But whatever it is, he intends to find it. Stacey, I'm not going to judge you, and you can tell me anything. It won't make any difference to the way I feel about you. But if you're hiding something that Gomez can use to destroy you, make no mistake—he will. He's ruthless and will stop at nothing to get what he wants. If you have something to hide, tell me now and I might be able to help you."

  "For God's sake! So I left my last job and moved here. What's the big deal? Geez, get off my back, will you? And as for that reporter bitch, we'll see about that. How interested would she be in me if it was work she'd never get paid for?"

  Chapter 38

  It was nine o'clock Monday morning, and Oscar thumbed through the pages of the Louisville Courier-Journal. Melanie Harper had been on the case for over a week and hadn't printed a word about Stacey. He breathed a sigh of relief. She obviously hadn't found anything, and time was running out. He'd given Stacey the chance to come clean about any skeletons in her closet that may affect their relationship, and she'd said that there was nothing to tell. It appeared that she was telling the truth—and that meant more to hi
m than it ever should have.

  Louie appeared at the end of the couch, dressed in a gray Armani pinstriped suit. "What's on the agenda for today?"

  "Your trial starts tomorrow. You got anything you have to do before then?" Oscar asked.

  "Yes, plenty." Louie whacked his cane on the end of the couch. "So let's get moving. I have to pick up the drawings from the architect and get them over to the governor. Then I have some business I need to tend to at my office downtown."

  "You want a chauffeur?"

  "Chauffeur with a side order of babysitting, wasn't that Miss Davenport's criteria?"

  Oscar was sick of being told what to do by his court-appointed responsibility. "Not me, you're on your own. Last time I was in West Louisville, I got arrested and my truck got impounded."

  Louie smiled. "It's a rough neighborhood. That's why I like it. It's easy to be invisible there, and I don't get many unwanted visitors."

  Oscar closed the paper. "I'll get Johnny to drop you off at your office while I go to the ranch. I have some stuff I need to do for the races next Saturday."

  Louie smirked. "You're going to put me and No-Thumbs in the same car. That should be interesting."

  "As you said, it's a rough neighborhood. He'll be extra muscle."

  ***

  Despite his protest, Oscar found himself driving for Gomez, but he was adamant that he was only going to the nice places. Johnny would be the driver for the West Louisville excursion.

  After collecting the drawings from the architect, they arrived at the mansion, where Conrad greeted them.

  "Who will be receiving the pleasure of your visit today, Oscar?" The butler asked.

  Louie stepped forward. "It's not Oscar's pleasure they will be getting the benefit of. Kindly tell the governor Louie Gomez is here to see him."