Sleep must have crept up on her unaware.
Tess had reclined on the bed, checking through her notes, unable to piece together anything of use from the various strands to Albert Sower she’d gathered. She’d set down her cell beside her, bracing her iPad on her bent knees. The lights in her mind must have switched off abruptly.
Her phone rang and she kicked in surprise, and her iPad went flying. She struggled up, grabbing for the tablet and the cell phone at the same time. The cell slid away from her groping fingers and bumped to the floor. She rolled over, groping for the phone.
Flustered, she hit the button. ‘Uh, hello!’
‘Sis? It’s me Alex. You OK?’
‘Uh, yeah … uh, I must’ve dropped off for a minute or two.’ Perhaps she’d napped for longer. She blearily looked around, searching for a clock. There wasn’t one. She looked at her phone for a clue, but her vision was fuzzy from sleep. She smacked her lips. God, she could use some fresh coffee now.
‘You composed now?’ Alex laughed to himself.
‘I’m fine. What’ve you got for me? Go ahead, I’ve got my ears on.’
‘Ha, you’re still using cop speak.’
‘Old habits die hard,’ she said.
‘Then pin back those ears and get this. That number I ran for you?’ She heard scratching as Alex leafed through some notes. ‘It comes back to a Toyota Avalon, twenty-thirteen model in metallic bronze.’
Tess pictured the car and thought that the details matched.
Alex went on. ‘Louisiana licence plate as you already know, registered to a private company in New Orleans.’ He read out an address and Tess told him to wait up. She scrambled off the bed to the desk and scribbled the details on one of the printed sheets of paper.
‘Gimme that company name again, will you?’
‘Rutterman Logistics,’ Alex said. ‘Mean anything?’
‘Not a thing,’ she admitted, but she planned on researching the company and trying to find a connection with Albert Sower. ‘No reports about the car being stolen or anything?’
‘None.’ Alex thought for a moment. ‘It’s one of a fleet of vehicles registered to Rutterman’s, so it might not have been missed yet. What’s the deal with it? Is it connected to Jacky Torrance?’
‘I might have spotted him driving it,’ she said, her voice guarded. ‘I just thought it strange that he should be in Louisiana.’
Alex was no fool. He knew there was more she wasn’t saying. ‘I checked him out. His record’s as long as my arm, but just minor stuff. His sheet’s been clean for the past five years or so. But then again, it has been rumoured that he’s been working for local organized crime the same number of years. Either he’s being a good boy – which I doubt – or someone’s keeping an eye on him and making sure he does nothing to attract our attention.’ By ‘our’ Alex was referring to law enforcement. It felt good that he’d included her in that description. ‘Hey, you’re down there looking for witnesses in the Sower case, right? There have been rumours that Jacky Boy is on Sower’s payroll. I take it that spotting him in Louisiana isn’t as coincidental as you say. I should mention his name to the homicide detectives on Mitchel Delaney’s case.’
‘I never said it was a coincidence. I just wasn’t sure it was him.’
‘But you are now?’
‘Couldn’t really say, so it’s too early to drop his name into the mix. I need a positive ID on him first; the only picture I have of him is years old. He’s still doing the entire Bohemian look in it. Anything more up to date on the system?’
‘The last time he was brought in on charges was over five years ago, but the photo on file might be more recent than the one you’ve got. Want me to send a copy?’
‘Please. But, Alex, do be careful. I don’t want you getting in trouble over this.’
‘I know how to cover my tracks. Relax, sis.’ He promised to email her the most recent mugshot of John Torrance. Behind him there was a commotion. ‘Uh, we just got an emergency call. Sorry, Tess, I have to go. I’ll email you as soon as I’m back in the office, ’kay?’
‘Thanks. Stay safe, Alex.’
‘Should say the same to you.’
‘I’m serious, Alex.’ She wondered if she should tell him to check out the murder file on Mitch Delaney: if Sower’s people discovered Alex was helping her they might turn their attention on him, and being a cop wouldn’t protect him. It was one thing placing herself in their sights, but not her brother. If something bad were to happen to him, it would completely destroy her. ‘Seriously serious.’
‘So am I,’ he said, and she gained the impression Alex knew more about this case than he was letting on. Before she could ask, he made a smacking noise with his lips, a kiss sent over the digital airwaves. Then he was gone.
After hanging up, Tess checked the time on her cell. It was 22:11. Whoa, she’d slept longer than she realized. She wondered if Po was back in his room or still standing guard outside. She looked for her clothes. After showering she’d bagged her dirty laundry in her suitcase, so went to the closet where she’d hung her clean stuff. She selected a pair of jeans and stepped into them. She put on a T-shirt, and over the top of it a thin cardigan in case the night turned chilly. She wormed her feet into the pumps she’d worn previously. Dressed, she glanced once at her iPad, wondering if she should research Rutterman Logistics before telling Po what she’d learned. It could keep. She left her room and stepped to the next door along. She knocked softly.
No reply.
Was Po sleeping? She doubted it. Someone who’d spent all those years in prison would have trained himself to wake at the slightest hint of noise. Nevertheless she knocked harder, but still got no reply.
She went downstairs. Po wasn’t in the foyer, but that wasn’t surprising. He’d be outside smoking. There was a night manager at the check-in desk. He nodded and smiled a greeting. He was a young man with cafe au lait skin and a beak of a nose. Tess offered a smile in return, but once it was apparent she wasn’t in need of his service, he bent back to his computer screen. Tess headed outside, and immediately felt a damp veil of humidity slap down on her. If ever she returned to Louisiana she’d ensure it was in the cooler months. She thought she smelled cigarette smoke, but then the air was redolent with other unfamiliar scents. Instead of trying to sniff Po out like a bloodhound she moved out from under the exit awning, and spied across the parking lot. There was no sign of Po, or anyone else for that matter. Where was he? Their rental car was parked where they’d left it, and she was conscious of the transponder in the glove compartment still beaming out its signal. To expect Po to be standing in the open was stupid; he’d have positioned himself where he could watch the car and the hotel, where he wasn’t likely to be spotted. She looked around but couldn’t see him. Best plan? Stand there and he’d spot her.
‘Tess. Over here.’
Her hand went to her throat, and she stumbled back at the voice. It was familiar, but not Po’s. From the interior of a van parked on the far side of the lot large eyes appraised her, the whites glowing in the ambient light. The speaker’s features were lost in the darkness. She didn’t need to see his face to know who it was.
‘Pinky! What are you doing here?’
The van wobbled on its chassis as Pinky adjusted his weight. He flopped one of his unusually thin arms out of the window and beckoned Tess closer. ‘Hush now, pretty Tess. I’m under cover, me.’
Tess moved towards the van, no hint of trepidation about approaching the ex-con and current gunrunner. ‘You’re watching for me?’
‘Looking out for you,’ he corrected. ‘Nicolas asked me to stand guard while he attended to an important errand.’
Tess glanced around, as if she’d spot her wayward employee. ‘Po left?’
‘Po? I can’t get used to that name, me. You mean Nicolas, right?’ Pinky drummed his fingers on the van door. ‘Come sit with me. We can wait for Nicolas together, us.’
‘Where has he gone?’
‘He didn’t say,’ said Pinky, though he would never pass a lie detector. ‘He only asked that I sit here until he returns.’ He checked his watch. ‘He swore he’d be back before midnight. He’d better uphold his promise, otherwise I’ll turn into a pumpkin, I warned him.’
If she’d to be honest, Tess was pissed that Po had deserted his post. But she was also disarmed by Pinky’s jovial manner. Something about the guy made her smile. ‘Please tell me he hasn’t gone off on a personal vendetta.’
Pinky laughed, and now there was an edge to his humour that she wasn’t certain of. ‘I couldn’t possibly say. Not where an eavesdropper might overhear. Come, pretty Tess, sit up here beside me and we can keep each other company.’
Should she trust Pinky? He was Po’s friend, and Po trusted him. That should have been enough for her, but now that he’d deserted his post, gone off on some ‘private errand’ without giving her as much as a heads up, how trustworthy was he? She moved towards the van, but halted and cast a look at the hotel entrance. She’d left her purse in her room. She’d left her gun in that purse. Was it wise to climb into a van with a man she barely knew, and whose word she had to take regarding her missing companion? For all she knew Pinky wasn’t as beholden to Po as he made out and he’d claimed the bounty on Po’s head himself. Maybe he was here with nefarious reasons in mind: maybe he was here to make sure there were no witnesses to Po’s disappearance.
Jesus, talk about paranoia!
She moved around the front of the van and slipped in alongside Pinky. He looked uncomfortable on a seat designed for someone without his bulk. His stick arms looked odd as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He offered a smile, and she squeezed one in reply. ‘Nicolas told me you probably wouldn’t leave your room before he got back.’
‘Call me a rebel,’ she said.
Pinky laughed. ‘I’m glad you came down; this undercover stuff isn’t as exciting as I thought. I was about to fall asleep, things are so quiet.’
‘Did Po – I mean Nicolas – tell you what’s going on?’
‘He told me that some dudes might show some interest in your Honey Wagon over there.’
‘Honey Wagon?’
‘His words, not mine, pretty Tess.’
‘Hmmm. Sounds like him, I admit.’
Pinky laughed again, his voice throaty. In the next instant his face grew serious. ‘Nicolas warned that they might be interested in more than the car. I would not let them harm you, Tess.’
She smiled her thanks, but couldn’t hide her doubt.
‘I’m not as slow as I look.’ Pinky prodded his stomach, his fingers sinking deep. ‘This looks bad, but underneath I’m not as soft, me.’
Tess didn’t know what to say, anything might be construed as insulting. Pinky grinned at her discomfort. ‘I’m gay, I’m black, I’m ugly, and I’m shaped kind of weird. There’s no insult I haven’t heard before, pretty Tess, nothing I haven’t shrugged off a thousand times and more.’ His hand dipped down the side of the chair and it came up gripping an automatic handgun. ‘Usually this shuts up the name-calling.’
‘You’re not ugly, Pinky,’ Tess reassured him – then thought how bad that sounded when she hadn’t fended off his other self-recriminations.
Pinky laughed in that throaty manner again, and she was happy when he put away his gun. ‘Nicolas said you were a funny girl. He was right, him. I like you, pretty Tess.’
‘I like you too, Pinky. Not too keen on Nicolas just now. Please tell me he hasn’t gone after the Chatards?’
‘He’s no crazy man. There’s a time and place to end that vendetta. This is not it.’
‘Then where the hell is he?’
Pinky sighed. ‘He’s gone to pay his respects, Tess. Gone to say a few words over his daddy’s grave. You wouldn’t hold that against him, no?’
Shame burned her. She hadn’t considered that Po’s absence could have something to do with anything other than his unresolved feud with the Chatard family. She rubbed her fingers over her face, noting how rubbery with sleep it was. She wasn’t thinking straight, that was it, her brain was still swaddled in cotton wool. Giving it some thought, an opportunity to visit his father’s grave was probably a clincher on his decision to accompany her here. Before setting off she’d visited and laid flowers on both her grandfather’s and her dad’s graves, so why shouldn’t Po want to do the same? As awful as it was, she hadn’t considered that his father meant as much to him as hers did to Tess. He was a convicted criminal: did ex-cons even have feelings? Idiot!
‘Ah, you probably have more on your mind.’ Pinky reached across and patted her wrist. It was a gesture of compassion, but Tess discreetly drew her hand away and folded it in her lap. It was her left hand, not her injured one, but she still felt self-conscious about her scarring and occasionally forgot which hand she protected. If she weren’t careful her damaged hand would become more a psychological encumbrance than the nerve and ligament damage.
Headlights flooded the parking lot.
In reaction they both hunched in their seats, but they weren’t in danger of being spotted. The lights swept the cars on the opposite side as the vehicle angled in to park near the hotel entrance. A man fumbled his way out of the car, followed a moment later by the driver, who appeared to be his enraged wife. She gestured angrily, and her voice cracked across the parking lot and made the man flinch. He staggered for the entrance, and the woman followed, shaking her head at his drunkenness.
‘I hope they don’t have the adjoining room to yours,’ Pinky laughed. ‘I predict some shouting tonight.’
Po’s room was on one side, she had no idea who had the other room. She sure hoped it wasn’t an angry wife and her worse for wear husband. Then again, judging by his wobbling gait, she predicted that the drunkard would be face down, sound asleep within minutes.
They made small talk, Pinky asking how Tess liked Louisiana. Although she’d had a tour of the central areas she hadn’t had much opportunity to enjoy its beauty. All she’d concentrated on to date was the locations they’d visited, and Gardere Lane, the Cottonmouths’ clubhouse, and especially Crawford Wynne’s home were nothing to write home about. ‘It has a feel to it that I can’t quite put my finger on,’ she admitted. ‘Something gothic, alien, or otherworldly.’
‘Then I’m probably right at home, me. I too am slightly odd, right?’
Tess laughed. ‘I wouldn’t put it that way. If anything I’m the alien visitor here; you must find me rather strange at times.’
Pinky didn’t reply. He simply sat back, smiling to himself.
They talked about the mundane. Favourite food. Drink. Movies. Books.
‘I’ve never read an entire book,’ Pinky admitted. ‘I don’t have the attention span. It’s probably why I found sitting here so boring … before you joined me, I must add. Right now I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.’
Tess’s smile was slow to grow. She wasn’t certain if Pinky was being sarcastic or not. ‘So you prefer movies to books?’
‘Certain movies. It’s such a shame isn’t it, learned people quote Shakespeare while I can only quote Stallone!’ He giggled at his own joke.
‘Yo! Adrienne!’ Tess said, and they laughed together now. ‘It sounds as if we enjoy the same type of movies.’
‘People look at me and jump to the wrong conclusion. They expect me to be a fan of The Sound of Music, or The Wizard of Oz, or something equally as camp. Huh! Give me a beefcake lead in a dirty tank top any time,’ he said. Suddenly he turned to her, aiming a conspiratorial nudge with his elbow. ‘Didn’t you wonder why I fell for Nicolas Villere? Isn’t he a ringer for that hunk Hugh Jackman?’
Not for the first time, Tess thought of Po as a Clint Eastwood lookalike, but now that she thought about it, Jackman too was a double for the young Clint. ‘Oh, you knew him when he was younger,’ she said. ‘So you fell for him then?’
‘Who wouldn’t?’ He watched her and his eyes had grown wide again. Tess looked quickly at her hands in her lap. ‘Mind you, now that he looks more like grizzled old Sam Elliott, I’m more inclined to look elsewhere for my eye candy.’
‘I, uh, think Sam Elliott’s still an attractive man,’ Tess said.
Pinky grinned at her. Then he wagged a finger, and an arched eyebrow. ‘That Nicolas! He does still have a certain charm. But what about me, pretty Tess? Don’t you think I have a look of Denzel Washington?’ He laughed brightly at his own joke, waving off her politically correct response. ‘I’m more like Eddie Murphy in The Nutty Professor. Sherman Klump, me.’
‘You’re doing yourself a disservice there, Pinky.’
‘No. No. I know what I look like. My face won’t win any prizes, even if my waist size does. But what about you, Tess? Who do you remind me of? Let me see.’ He turned as far as his seat allowed, the upholstery squeaking in protest. ‘Hmm, there’s a definite hint of Charlize Theron there.’
‘I wish,’ Tess said.
Pinky flapped a hand at her. ‘You did see her in that movie Monster, right?’
Tess opened her mouth in mock horror, and Pinky laughed uproariously. Charlize Theron played the serial killer Aileen Wuornos in that one, and had looked anything but beautiful in make-up. Pinky wiped his mouth, an effort to stifle the laughter. ‘Silly of me. I meant “monster movie”. Y’know the one about the big ape?’
‘You’re thinking of Naomi Watts in King Kong.’
‘Hmmm. Excuse me, but I do know a big ape when I see one. I’m talking about Mighty Joe Young, and it was definitely Miss Theron in that one.’ Pinky suddenly grew serious. ‘And speaking of big apes, check him out.’
Tess followed his gesture, expecting to witness Po’s return to the fold. Instead she spotted a figure shambling through the parking lot. It was a large man, heavy as Pinky, but fat all over. In contrast to his girth, his face appeared gaunt and pale, as if he hungered badly. His clothing was a mixture of styles, and even in this damp heat was wearing a threadbare trench coat over stained khaki chinos, and shoes held together with string. He was carrying a rolled sleeping bag, from which dangled other items in plastic bags fit for bursting. Tess almost disregarded him as a harmless street person until he paused at the rear of the Honda and studied the licence number.
‘What’s he up to?’
‘No good.’ Pinky drew his sidearm from down by his side.
‘No. Wait on.’ Tess leaned to get a cleaner look at the homeless man. He was standing, bent at the waist, head cocked as he rechecked the number. He straightened, nodding, and even from across the parking lot Tess could hear mumbled confirmation. He dipped a hand inside his coat pocket and pulled something out. He moved around the Honda and leaned across the hood.
‘What’s he doing now?’ Tess’s question was rhetoric; because it was obvious he was slipping something under the windshield wiper.
‘Probably putting out flyers for pizza or hot chicks,’ Pinky suggested. ‘Sometimes the bums are given a bunch of flyers and told to put them out in return for alcohol or cigarettes.’
Pinky’s explanation was feasible, except the man had bypassed all the other vehicles in the lot, going directly to the Honda. Now he’d completed his task, he shambled away, shaking his head and muttering at the sky, while ignoring the other parked cars.
Tess got out the van, while Pinky started the engine. Instructions were unnecessary, as they each knew what the other intended. While Pinky went off to corral the street guy, Tess jogged over to the Honda. She glanced around, checking she was unobserved as she approached the front. She reached for the small envelope wedged under the wiper. It was no advertisement, and a quick squint showed her name ‘Teresa Grey’ on a printed label on the front.
Her fingers shaking, she opened the envelope and slipped out a small card. It was bulk standard card, bleached white, and only printed on one side. Two numbers. She immediately recognized them as coordinates. There was no clue who the card had come from or where the coordinates led. Looking for Pinky, she spotted him out of the van, and talking with the street person next to the exit to the street. The man was shaking his head and flapping an arm at Pinky. Tess headed for them. As she approached she heard curses directed both ways, and was thankful that Pinky had left the gun in the van after all.
‘Hey! Hey!’ she said, making calming pats of her hands at the air. The street guy turned and looked at her, his gaze bleary. ‘Let’s calm things down, shall we?’
To Pinky, he said, ‘Who’s this, yo sister?’
‘That’s enough of your wise mouth, you,’ Pinky snapped at him, and jabbed one of his long fingers into the man’s chest. The guy brushed at the spot as if Pinky’s touch had smeared his coat. If anything, Pinky had left a clean spot.
‘Don’t you touch me, nigga!’ The man turned to flounder away, but Pinky caught him by his shoulder. Pinky claimed he was stronger than he looked, and proved it when he brought the man to a jerking halt. The man took a swipe backwards with his elbow, but Pinky was in no danger. He looked at Tess for direction. ‘You want me to slap this punk?’
‘No. Let me handle it, OK?’ She moved so that she was in front of the guy. He swore at her but she stood her ground. She wagged the envelope under his nose. ‘You put this on my car.’
‘You going to get me arrested for littering, huh?’ Perhaps he wasn’t as inebriated as he first looked. But that was a good thing.
‘I’m only going to ask you a question or two,’ Tess reassured him. She made eyes at Pinky to back off a little. Pinky rolled his, but took a step away.
‘Are you a cop or something?’ The man’s accent wasn’t typical of Louisiana. He was another out-of-stater just like Tess.
‘No, I’m not a cop.’
‘Then I don’t have to answer yo’ questions.’ The man went to walk by her, but Tess sidestepped and halted him in his tracks. Pinky tensed, readying for action if the guy tried to bolt.
Tess shoved the envelope under his nose again. ‘I only want to know who gave you this.’
The guy shrugged. ‘Beats me. Some dude. Gave me ten bucks to push it under yo’ wiper. I’m beginning to think that ten bucks wasn’t worth the trouble.’
Tess suspected who was behind the message: John Torrance or his pal. But she had to be clear on it. She dipped in her pocket, searching for cash. She’d left her money in the hotel room with everything else. ‘Pinky, can you loan me twenty dollars?’
‘For this flimflammer? You want me to give him money when what he needs is some civility knocked into him?’
‘I’ll pay you back,’ Tess promised.
Pinky snorted, but delved in his pants pocket and came out with a roll of cash. He peeled off a single twenty, extended it between two fingers. Tess reached for it, but the drunk got there first. He inspected it as if the note was counterfeit.
‘There.’ Tess raised her eyebrows at him. ‘Is it worth the trouble now? All I want is a description of the man who gave you the envelope.’
The twenty went inside the man’s grungy coat. ‘Can’t say much. They wus in a car, I didn’t get a good look at them.’
‘So there was more than one guy?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘White guys?’
‘Uh-huh. Two of them were white. Some other guy was in back. The driver gave me the cash and the envelope.’ He pointed back the way from which he’d entered the parking lot. ‘They were parked just over there, near the laundromat next to the intersection. Big black car. Don’t ask me the type, ’cause I haven’t a clue. I walk; I don’t have anything to do with cars and such. Rich man’s car, though, I can tell yo’ that. One of them with the silver Olympic rings on the front.’
He was describing an Audi, Tess assumed. ‘What did they say to you?’
‘Asked me if I wanted to make some beer money.’ He snorted. ‘Ten goddamn dollars doesn’t amount to much beer these days. He pointed out where yo’ car wus, told me the last three letters on the licence, and made me repeat them so I got it right, and told me to leave the envelope on yo’ windshield. I did what they asked, earned the cash. That’s all.’
Tess checked across the lot to where Pinky’s van had been parked before they’d spotted the drunk on his errand. There was no view of the intersection from there. From where they stood now, she could see to the laundromat but there was no ‘rich man’s car’ visible. If Tess described those she’d already identified as her watchers, the drunk would simply agree to the description. It was better that she elicited the details from him without prompting, but nothing much was forthcoming. She’d no doubt it was Sower’s men, so why push for more, except that he’d mentioned a third man.
‘What about the guy in back?’
‘I didn’t look at him,’ he said, but his eyelids flickered and she suspected he was lying. ‘No good would come from looking into that face.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Tess pushed.
‘Nothin’. I don’t mean a goddamn thing ’cause I never seen him.’
‘Did he say anything? Anything. It might be important.’
‘Jeez. I told you what they said already.’ The drunk pushed past, and Tess got a face full of his stench. Sour body odour, vinegary, vomit-laced, it wasn’t pleasant. She stepped out of his way. She’d gotten all she would from him, so there was little to be gained from keeping him other than an upset stomach.
Pinky called after the retreating drunk. ‘Word to the wise, bra. Use that cash for something you really need. Instead of beer, I’d be buying soap, me.’
The street guy swore viciously without checking for a response. Pinky grinned at Tess. ‘Sorry, I had to get some kind of return for my investment.’
‘I’ll pay you back,’ she said again.
Pinky shrugged. He nodded at the envelope Tess clutched in her hand. ‘So what’s that about?’
‘Coordinates,’ she said. ‘They want me to find something.’
‘Or go somewhere you really shouldn’t,’ Pinky cautioned.