Judging by the cars, Slice of Heaven was busy for a Monday night. Good. Better chance Candy would be working. John and Chance may not have been able to get her to talk, but they were constrained by pesky rules, like the Constitution. Me? Not so much. I’d let my Colt do the convincing.
I’d considered driving straight up to Petrov’s house. I’d been there before, last year when I’d hunted Diamond down, but the reception had been icy at best. His goons had frisked me and taken my guns. Besides, the place was a fortress. Better to stir things up and get him to come to me.
I ordered a draft beer and pretended to drink it while I scoped out the place. No sign of any of Petrov’s regular security detail. Good, because I was prepared to shoot up the place to get some info. After a few minutes, I slipped the cocktail waitress a twenty and told her I was hungry for some Candy. She motioned for me to follow her to one of the rooms in the back. The room was utilitarian. A couch, a small table, and a dimmer switch on the overhead light. The light was low and I didn’t change it, hoping the couch didn’t have too many remnants from prior customers.
I didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, a perky brunette in a thong walked in, shut the door behind her, and joined me on the couch.
“I heard you were in the mood for something sweet.”
“Do they teach you to talk like that at stripper school?”
The perkiness faded fast. “You have cash or not?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Imperial. “Will this do?”
I barely caught her flinch before she morphed back into vivacious mode. “If that’s real, we can work something out.”
I set the Imperial on the table and leaned back into the couch. “Tell me everything you know about Yuri Petrov’s prescription drug business.”
Candy was fast, but the sight of the Colt stopped her before she got to the door. I pointed to the place on the couch she’d just abandoned. “Hey, now, we were just getting started.”
“If I scream, two very big guys will be in here in seconds.”
“I’m sure they will enjoy cleaning up the blood. Have a seat.”
She sat as far away from me as she could get. “What do you want?”
“I told you. You know the cops are already interested. Why don’t you fill me in about Yuri’s new business and I can get them out of your hair?”
“I don’t know anything.”
“Not what I heard.” I cocked my gun, but didn’t point it at her.
Perky, vivacious—all gone. The girl next to me on the couch was a puddle of nerves. She’d talk. I just had to wait her out.
“Look, I’m in college. This is how I pay my way, but the club hasn’t been as busy as it used to be. Economy and all.” I nodded to keep her talking. “Yuri’s guys offered a few of us extra work, peddling prescription drugs. I needed the extra cash, so I said hell yeah. They wanted me to sell on campus, but I know better than to risk getting thrown out of school, so I just sell to some of the girls at the other clubs. I figured that was low risk.”
She had a brilliant business mind. “You know where Yuri gets the stuff?”
“Not a clue.”
She was telling the truth. “You have some on you now?” I was regretting giving John the only proof I had. Wouldn’t hurt to have more on hand.
She shot a look at the Colt and her face fell. “No. I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said I could get some and be right back.”
“I believe you’d bring something besides fake meds back. Just a few more questions and I’m out of your hair.” I holstered the Colt as a sign of goodwill. “Ever been to Bingo’s place?”
“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 and 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.