by Carsen Taite
“Bingo? What’s that?”
“What college you go to?”
“UTA.”
Not in Dallas. Okay, I could buy she’d never heard of Bingo. I pulled out the ratty photos of Amato and Picone. “How about these guys?”
She reached for the photos and I watched while she stared too long for someone who’d never seen them before. Finally, she handed them back. “Maybe. They look kind of familiar. Maybe they’re customers.”
“Well, they’re for sure not college students.”
She giggled, a bit of the bouncy co-ed showing through. I decided to get out while she was feeling all happy-go-lucky.
“I’m taking off.” I stood and picked up the Imperial from the table. “You give me a five minute head start and I promise I’ll never bother you again. Just do me one favor.”
She nodded and I handed her the coin. “Don’t tell a soul you answered my questions, but make sure Yuri’s guys know I asked.” I pointed at the coin. “Show them the special tip I gave you.” I strode out of the room before she had time to respond. Needed to make some tracks. Once Yuri found out I’d been in his club, pumping his girls for information, he’d be on my tail and fast.
Outside the club, I paused briefly to flick a glance at the wall where Jess had fucked me for the last time. I rolled the thought around in my head. After seeing her playing white knight for Heather Deveaux, I realized it probably had been the last time, and I cared more than I wanted to.
Shake it off. I’d been feeling weird ever since I’d left Maggie’s. Damn wedding invite. As if it’s not bad enough I’m going to a wedding, I got a plus one invite. Like showing up stag was a big fail. Whatever.
My silly attempt at introspection almost made me miss seeing him. Otis Shaw in his ancient Cadillac Seville, pulling out of the lot at Black Lace. I cut off two cars to try to slip in behind him, but he made the turn before I could catch up.
It was late. A man leaving a strip club would likely be heading home this hour. Question was, which home? His baby mamma’s house or his girlfriend’s? Odds were on the girlfriend’s place. I made the drive out to Cedar Hill in record time. The lights were still on which was a good sign. Shaw’s car wasn’t out front. I took a pass through the alley. No Caddy. Either I was wrong or he hadn’t made it here yet. I couldn’t imagine he’d want to get it on in a house with a screaming baby. I decided to hide out and wait.
An hour later, the house lights went out and I decided he wasn’t coming. On my way home, I drove back by Dalia’s place, just in case watching strippers had made him reminisce about the mother of his child. Not a sign of him there either. Maybe he’d found a third option. How could a hood like Otis Shaw have so many choices and I couldn’t even come up with a plus one to take to my brother’s wedding?
*
I rolled out of bed Tuesday morning, restless and edgy. Waiting wasn’t my favorite thing to do, but surely Petrov wouldn’t take long to react to my questions from the night before.
I threw on sweats and a jacket to cover the two guns I wore. Until he showed his hand, I wasn’t taking any chances on getting caught without a decent amount of firepower. Probably should’ve skipped the run, but I needed to pound out the nervous energy ramping up in my brain.
A mile in, I was exhaling big frozen puffs of air, but the rote activity felt good. With each footfall, I stomped out all the useless wanderings in my head. Today, I would catch Shaw. I’d turn him in and see if Hardin had new work. If I went on about my regular routine, all the other pieces would fall into place. Petrov would show up and I’d get answers about Bingo. Deveaux would go back to Chicago and my relationship with Jess would return to normal.
Normal. Was it normal to screw your best friend? Was your best friend really your best friend if a woman could come between you? Had anything really changed, or was it all in my head? Maybe this is how all friends are—coasting along nicely until we meet “the one,” and then everything had to shift, to compress, to make space for what was most important. And normal got redefined.
Fucking brain. Couldn’t turn it off. I had to actually do something if I was going to have a shot at putting Jess out of my head. I ticked off a mental list: find Shaw, get an update on the investigation from John, check in with Bingo. It was a good list, a busy list, a list that didn’t include anything having to do with Jessica Chance.
*
Shaw wasn’t at Dalia’s or Shante’s. Unless he’d dumped the Cadillac, which I highly doubted. I decided to run by Black Lace later and show his mug shot around. Maybe he’d found a new lady friend to shack up with. Amazed me how many women were quick to overlook the fact the guy was a felon.
Next item on my list was a call to John. I’d already checked the morning paper. No word on Bingo being arrested which meant the cops were still investigating, whatever that meant. I tried the station first and waited through the rings, deciding whether I’d tell him about my visit to Petrov’s club. I’d resolved to keep it to myself when the line finally connected.
“Chance here.”
I considered hanging up.
“Is anyone there? I can hear you breathing.”
I took a deep breath. “It’s me.”
“Oh.” Even tone, a hint of surprise, but not disappointment. Shame on me for reading so much into a two-letter word.
“I was calling John.”
“He’s in a witness interview.”
I perked up. “Witness? On Bingo’s case?”
Her voice got whisper low. “No. We’re not on that case anymore.”
“Well, John said you were only backup. Any reason you can’t still give me a hint about what’s going on?”
“Guess I should’ve been more clear. We, as in the entire department, are not on that case anymore. Feds grabbed it.”
“You sound relieved.”
“Yeah, well, normally I’d be pissed, but this case was a mess. It’s your fault, anyway.”
“Excuse me?”
“Something about that pill bottle you gave John got the DEA all over us. They took Bingo’s case and every fake prescription case vice had working. You cut our work load substantially. I should thank you.”
Diamond. She’d been working the prescription drug angle. Not a job for a U.S. Marshal. Was she really DEA? It would explain why she’d been looking for Amato and Picone who’d apparently gotten into the fake meds biz. But why lie to me and say she was working for the Marshal Service?
I needed to sort this out, but first I needed to end this awkward conversation with Jess. She wasn’t herself. When she told me about the Feds taking over their case, I would’ve expected her to sound pissed, but she only sounded tired. “You okay?”
“Sure, what else would I be?”
I didn’t have an answer for her non answer, so I let it ride and attempted casual conversation. “Mark left town.”
“I thought he was moving here.”
“He is. He just had to go wrap things up back east. He’ll be here a couple of weeks before the wedding.”
“Is he excited?”
“I guess. Kind of overwhelmed I think. His bride-to-be seems pretty fancy. Got the invitation, and I swear it’s like something the royal family would send out, wax seal and all.”
“I don’t know, maybe that’s normal.”
Normal. I was starting to hate that word. “Is it normal to bring a guest?”
“What?”
“My invite said ‘Luca Bennett and Guest.’ Am I supposed to bring someone or will they care if I show up alone?”
“Pretty sure that’s your choice. You want to take someone?”
Normal. If things were normal we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. I didn’t know jack about weddings, but I did know that if things were normal, Jess would go with me to the damn thing. She’d help me navigate my way through all the customs I was completely unaccustomed to. She’d make sure I wouldn’t make a fool of myself in front of all my brother’s fancy new relatives. She’d tie my tie an
d make sure I didn’t drip anything on my shirt, at least not before the ceremony. Because that’s what friends do. When things are normal.
But nothing was normal between us anymore. “Hey, I’ve got another call coming in,” I lied, “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Sure. And, Luca?”
“Yeah?”
“You should definitely take someone.”
Nope, nothing was normal.
Chapter Nineteen
The U.S. Marshal’s Service office was in the Earle Cabell building in downtown Dallas. Downtown wasn’t my favorite place. Parking was expensive and I hate driving around on streets that pedestrians think they own. I decided against taking out a woman eating a sandwich and talking on her cell phone who stepped right out in front of me, but only because I didn’t want the delay of having to deal with the accident report.
On my fourth circle around the block, I finally scored a metered spot. I stowed my guns in the hidden compartment of the Bronco’s floorboard. Lots of layers of security in this building and, in jeans, boots, and a black leather jacket, I already looked a little out of place. No need to add an arsenal to the mix.
The Marshal Service was divided into two groups. Young, fit, law enforcement types, ready to take on the adventure of chasing down bad guys on the lam, and old, not so fit, Walmart greeter looking folks who were content to act as courtroom bailiffs, telling people when to stand and sit, and getting coffee for jurors. Took me a few minutes, but I finally located the office for the young and fit types and, after a trip through another metal detector, stated my business.
“I have an appointment with Marshal Diamond Collier.” Best to lie with confidence and make the other side think they were the ones who’d messed up the calendar.
The receptionist scrunched her brow, and I was waiting for her to tell me that no such person worked there, but instead she took my name and asked me to have a seat. Maybe they were trained to call for backup when nefarious types showed up. She scurried away and I pretended to read a three-year-old Time magazine. Good to know my tax dollars weren’t being spent on updated subscriptions.
About twenty minutes later, I heard a click and the door next to the receptionist desk opened. I didn’t expect Diamond to show up, but if I was looking for hot women, this one would do. Maybe the Marshal Service had placed an ad for new recruits, highlighting that only good-looking blondes need apply.
“Ms. Bennett?”
I stood up to compensate for not being armed, but since she matched my height and build, it didn’t have any impact. “That’s me.”
“You have an appointment with Diamond Collier?”
The lack of a title in front of Diamond’s name didn’t get past me, but so far this was surreal. She was acting like I really had an appointment and I played along. “I do.”
“Then I’ll need you to come with me.”
Weird, but it wasn’t like I was going to tell her no. I stayed a step behind, enjoying the view, as she walked us to the bank of elevators. She punched the button for the sixth floor lobby. Maybe this was her orderly way of showing me out of the building.
“Mind if I ask where we’re going?”
She cut a quick smile. “I don’t mind.”
Pure cop. I decided against giving her the satisfaction of ignoring further questions and let my mind wander. Didn’t have to wander long. In a few minutes, the car stopped and she led me down a hall that led to a cafeteria. Maybe she was going to buy me an early dinner.
No such luck. Food service had closed for the day, but the seating area was open. She motioned for me to stop just outside the door. “Wait here.” She stuck her head in the entrance and glanced around. “Okay, go on in.”
“Are you this clandestine about all your meals?”
She ignored my question and pointed to a table in the corner of the room with one occupant. I knew before she turned around it was her. Blondie waited by the door and I joined Diamond at the table.
“Do you actually work in this building or is this another of your many and varied covers?”
“Sit down.”
I flicked a glance at Blondie who was standing sentry at the door. “She’s staying?”
“I trust her. Anything you want to tell me, you can say in front of her.”
“Well, that’s the thing. I don’t know that there’s anything I want to tell you. I came to get answers, not give them.”
“I can’t promise you I can tell you everything.”
“At this point, anything would help. How did you know Amato and Picone were dead before their bodies were found?”
“I didn’t. Not for sure.”
“Then why did you tell me to stand down? What was it you said? ‘That matter has been taken care of.’ What the hell did you mean by that?”
She ducked the question. “I got called to a different aspect of the investigation. More pressing matter. You know how it is.”
No, I didn’t. My most pressing matters involved putting gas in my car and paying my rent, not choosing which crime family to investigate or which undercover identity I was going to assume. “Not what I heard. I heard you guys snatched the case from the local P.D. Seems like if it was that important, you wouldn’t have been reassigned so quickly.”
“Gee, wonder where you heard that. Detective Chance pissed that she lost the case?”
“Actually, I don’t think she gives a shit.” I immediately regretted opening up a discussion that included Chance, and I quickly changed the subject. “Why did you tell me you worked for the Marshal Service?”
“Seemed easier.”
“Lying usually is.”
“I’m with DEA. We’ve spent a lot of time building a case around these fake prescriptions. I told you what I could.”
“You can tell me more now. Like why you called me off Amato and Picone, conveniently right before they turned up dead?”
A minute passed. Then another. “We’ve been working on this case for a while.” A beat passed. “We heard chatter.”
Chatter. They must have a wiretap on Petrov’s operation. Probably how they found out Amato and Picone were trying to cut in on his business and certainly how they’d figured out Petrov had taken care of the problem.
She must’ve sensed my question because she held up a hand before I could get the words out. “You know I can’t tell you more.”
She didn’t need to add how sensitive this information was. I got it. “You still have a tap on Petrov?” I prayed she didn’t ask why I wanted to know. I’d been considering a visit to his house if he didn’t show up to find me first. Might be handy to know if the place was bugged.
She didn’t ask, but the look on her face was odd. Surprise, maybe? “Petrov? Uh, no. We’re focusing our efforts on a different angle.”
“And you don’t really care about what happened at Bingo’s? Let me guess, you all only took over the investigation to keep it under wraps so you could play some other game. Am I right?”
“The murder’s not our focus.”
“Even if Petrov ordered the hit?”
“We have bigger fish to fry.”
I took a stab. “Like the supplier?”
“It’s a big operation. You should let us handle it.”
“Doesn’t sound like you are handling it. What about Bingo?”
“I don’t think they have enough evidence to prosecute him. If he’s innocent, he’ll be fine.”
“Spoken like a true purveyor of justice.”
She looked at the door and I followed her glance. Blondie was like a castle guard. All stoic and acting like we weren’t having a heated conversation yards away. I looked back when I felt Diamond’s hand on my arm. “Look, I’m just doing my job.”
“Your job sucks.”
“I can’t get involved in every little detail or I lose sight of the big picture.”
“Which am I?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear her say it.
“What?”
“A little detail or th
e big picture?” I shook my head. “Never mind, don’t answer that.”
Her hand trailed down my arm and she stroked my fingers. “Don’t be like that.”
I didn’t want to be. Like that. I wanted to be like this. Sitting alone—or semi alone, anyway—with a beautiful woman who wanted me like I wanted her. Did I want Diamond? I’d wanted her for sex, no doubt, but I’d gotten that and I wasn’t satisfied.
“Maybe we should see each other outside of work. You know, like a date?”
“You’re kidding, right?” I shot a look at Blondie, as if to ask her to join in my disbelief, but she stood ramrod straight, staring into the hallway.
“What, you never eat dinner before you fuck? It would kill you to have a conversation first?”
Did I? Would it? Before I had a chance to consider the questions, she threw a couple more out.
“Or is it that your heart belongs to someone else? Maybe a certain cop we know?”
There was a layer of real curiosity beneath the teasing tone, but I chose to write it off to the fact that she or one of her pals may have seen Jess and I going at it outside Slice of Heaven. Hope whoever it was had enjoyed the show because I wasn’t giving up any details about my relationship with Jess. Truth was, I didn’t know what I would say even if I wanted to share.
“Are you asking me out?” I started to warm up to the idea. Not the date part, but the get my mind off whatever was going on between Chance and Deveaux part.
“Maybe. What would you say if I said yes?”
“I don’t dress up, I don’t eat fancy food, and I don’t like being without my own ride.”
She laughed. “Assuming I could meet all your requirements, what would you say?”
“I’d say you were fucking with me.”
“Assume I’m not.”
“You like weddings?” I wanted to reel the question back in the minute it left my lips.
“What?”
“Never mind.” I stood up. “Look, I gotta go. You may be off the case, but Bingo’s my friend and I’m not letting him twist in the wind while you guys figure out who’s in charge.”