Kentucky Vice: A Suspense Crime Thriller (Evan Buckley Thrillers Book 2), page 2
‘Not the two girls in the photo?’
‘No. I never saw them before that arrived.’ He jabbed a finger angrily at the photo lying on the desk.
‘Show me your wallet,’ Evan said suddenly, leaning forward on the desk, hand out.
Jesse frowned. ‘You sound just like one of them.’
‘Just let me see it.’
Jesse pulled out an expensive alligator skin wallet and held it out. Evan grabbed his wrist and turned his arm to look at his watch. It had more dials and knobs on it than a jet fighter’s cockpit.
‘What’s that? Breitling?’
Jesse didn’t manage to keep the smugness off his face. ‘Something like that. Not quite so commonplace.’
Evan looked in the wallet and whistled. ‘There must be a couple of thousand dollars in there.’
Jesse shrugged. ‘There’s no point in earning it if you can’t spend it.’
‘Jesus Jesse, you might as well walk around with a sign stuck on your head: I’m Jesse and I’ll be your mark this evening. Did you flash this around in there?’ He waved the wallet in the air, and then threw it on the desk.
‘I don’t remember.’ He slipped the watch off his wrist and looked at it. ‘I suppose I’m lucky they didn’t steal this as well. Diane bought it. She’d see it was missing in an instant. She gets pissed if I don’t wear it in the shower.’
Evan tried to dig up some sympathy for a man forced to wear a twenty-thousand-dollar watch night and day. He didn’t get very far with it.
‘What happened next?’
‘Some of the guys left. There was just me and one other guy and the two girls. They kept ordering more drinks and putting it on my tab, but even at their prices there’s no way it cost over thirty grand. I was pretty drunk by then.’
‘And that’s when they took you into one of the private rooms?’
Jesse gave an irritated head shake. ‘No, that’s when everything goes blank. The next thing I remember it was morning and I was back in my hotel room feeling like death warmed up with a plane to catch. At that point that’s all there was to it. Too much to drink and I crashed out.’
‘It’s definitely your body in the photo, is it? They haven’t photoshopped your head onto some other guy?’
Jesse shook his head. ‘It’s me. You can see a scar on my stomach.’
Evan picked up the photograph and looked closely. The girl’s blond hair was hanging down tickling Jesse’s stomach but he could just about make out a long, jagged scar.
‘So, you think they drugged you? Some kind of date rape drug maybe?’
Jesse gave a small shrug. ‘I guess. What else can it be?’
Evan looked back at the photo. There was definitely something about Jesse’s eyes. He saw it now. ‘You look wide awake in the picture.’
‘I don’t know, is there something they might have used that lets you function but gives you amnesia?’
‘Beats me, but I’ll check it out. What about the other guy? Have you spoken to him since?’
Jesse stood and walked over to the window and looked out. ‘No reason to. Until the photos arrived, I had no reason to think it was anything other than temporary memory loss brought on by too much booze. Since then you’re the only person I’ve told.’
‘Do you think he’s involved?’
‘Who knows? Anything’s possible but I’ve known him a long time.’
A thought suddenly crossed his mind. He turned to look at Evan.
‘Same thing might have happened to him.’
‘Is he rich too?’
And stupid too?
Jesse looked pained. ‘I’m not rich, Evan. I do okay, but I’m not rich. Forrest St. John Jnr. is rich. Obscenely rich. Or at least his father is. Most of our clients are.’
‘Is there any way you can sound him out?’
‘Difficult without showing my hand.’
‘I suppose so. Have you thought about going to the police?’
Jesse rocked back on his heels as if Evan had hit him and held up his hands. ‘No way. One, I can’t risk Diane finding out, and two, they’ve been through my wallet and my phone. They know where I work.’
‘Even so—’
‘Just think how it would look. The company sends me down to see some important clients and what do I do? Get smashed and walk smack bang into some sordid scam. What if that gets back to the clients? It’s an expensive mistake if we lose a client as a result of some scandal.’
‘You were with the client—’
Jesse snorted. ‘You know what rich people and scandal are like. I’d be out on my ear before I knew it. They’d probably fire me first just to be on the safe side. No job and no wife, I’d rather pay the thirty grand.’
‘That’s what they’re relying on. That’s probably why they’re not pushing harder, asking for more.’
Jesse considered the implications of what Evan had just said, fiddling with the knobs on his watch as he turned it over.
‘You mean they’ve got some blackmailer’s algorithm—plug in my job, my wife, an expensive watch and a fat wallet, push the button and out comes thirty grand. He’ll roll over on that but don’t push any harder.’
Evan nodded. ‘Something like that. They’ve probably got an app on their phone does it for them.’
‘So, you’ll look into it?’
‘Yeah, sure. I’ll start with the date rape drug angle.’
Jesse nodded his thanks. ‘I appreciate it. I read about that case of yours last year, the one with the kid and his father buried in the basement—’
‘The Claytons.’
‘That’s the one. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her to lose her kid and her husband. Jesus. At least you managed to give her closure. That must have felt pretty damn good. I sometimes wish I could do something worthwhile like that, instead of just make money.’
Evan was tempted to say it’s in your hands, no one else’s, but he stopped himself, reminded of the push he’d needed to start his own journey.
Jesse was almost out the door when he stopped and hesitated. He seemed at a loss for words, like he had something he wanted to say but didn’t know where to start. He fiddled with his expensive watch again and cleared his throat.
‘Whatever—’
With an awful premonition Evan knew he was about to ask about Sarah. He leapt from his seat, crossed the room in a couple of quick strides and frogmarched Jesse out into the hallway, slapping him enthusiastically on the back as they went, dislodging his sunglasses from where they perched on his head.
‘It was great to see you, Jesse, we should have a beer sometime. I’ll give you a call in a couple of days.’
He jabbed at the button for the elevator. While Jesse picked up his shades, he dashed back into his office and closed the door firmly behind him. Jesse never got a chance to say what was on his mind—even if the damage had already been done.
***
EVAN STOOD AT THE open window, hands stuffed into his pockets and breathed in the clean, fresh air, sucking it all the way down into the bottom of his lungs. He tried to clear his mind as he watched Jesse get into his fancy car and drive off. But his fingers brushed the smooth, worn metal of his Zippo lighter—the one he’d found half-buried in Carl Hendricks’ basement chamber. A cold shiver ran through him at the thought of how close he’d come to meeting his maker, a solitary, drawn-out death. He pulled the lighter out, ran his thumb over the inscription.
We the unwilling
Led by the unqualified
To kill the unfortunate
Die for the ungrateful
He knew the words by heart now, they’d become a mantra for him. It was a popular verse, engraved on hundreds, if not thousands, of lighters just like it. And there were other, similar verses—same sentiments, slightly different words. They were collectors’ items, that was all, everybody knew that.
But it didn’t matter what he thought in the cold, rational light of day. It didn’t stop his mind from driving him crazy in the small hours of the morning when all your doubts and fears come calling. Was it the same one?
And the one person who could have helped him, helped put a stop to the endless what ifs and maybes, had died two years ago, their relationship never patched up after Sarah’s disappearance. Despite what they’d said, that they didn’t blame him, they did.
One of these days he’d visit Hendricks in prison and ask him about it. Not that he expected any joy there either. Hendricks would never tell him the truth. He needed to stop carrying the damn thing around with him everywhere, but it had become a ritual, as automatic as putting on his watch in the morning.
And he sure as hell didn’t want to rake it all up with someone like Jesse, making things a hundred times worse with his well-intentioned comments about loss and closure.
Chapter 4
EVAN WENT DOWNSTAIRS TO see Tom Jacobson who ran a dental practice from the office below. He was busy at his desk and spun round in his chair when Evan walked in.
‘I want to ask you about date rape drugs,’ Evan said, sitting on the edge of the desk.
‘You mean how do they work, or can I get you some?’
‘Maybe both—if the price is right.’
Jacobson laughed. ‘Why do you want to know?’
Evan told him about Jesse’s problem and how he thought he’d been drugged.
Jacobson’s eyes narrowed. ‘I thought you’d given up all that seedy work, catching people in flagrante delicto. You know what that means?’
‘I do and I have. This is different’—Jacobson gave him a look that said he’d heard it all before—‘I’m trying to prove the guy didn’t do it. Or at least that he wasn’t aware he was doing it.’
‘Do you believe him?’
Evan hesitated a moment. That was the question. He stood up and wandered over to the window. He had a better view from his, even though Jacobson owned the building.
‘I think so,’ he said slowly.
‘But you’re not one hundred percent?’
‘No. That’s why I want to find out if it’s at least possible. Before I spend any time on it.’
Jacobson nodded. ‘It’s definitely possible. Do you know anything about date rape drugs at all?’
‘Never had cause to.’
Jacobson leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. ‘There are three main ones - Rohypnol, GHB and Ketamine. From what you’ve told me I’d say Ketamine was your best bet. You might have heard of it being called Special K.’
Evan shook his head. ‘Never buy it. I’m a cheerios man myself.’
‘That would explain a lot. Anyway, this particular Special K is a dissociative anesthetic.’
As always with Jacobson, Evan got the impression he’d taken the wrong turn and inadvertently wandered into a Mensa meeting.
‘Meaning what?’
‘It’s a type of hallucinogen.’ He turned back to his computer and did a quick search. ‘Here we go, the state it induces is defined as a trancelike cataleptic state characterized by profound analgesia and amnesia ...’
The dry medical description floated over Evan until the last word. ‘Did you say amnesia?’
‘That’s what it says here. That’s why people use it for date rape.’
‘So, it’s definitely possible he’s telling the truth. What was the other word? Cata ...’
‘Cataleptic. It means a lack of response to external stimuli coupled with muscular rigidity—basically the person’s limbs stay in whatever positions you put them in. Turns you into a giant kid’s doll.’
Evan nodded. It was all coming together now. ‘Which means someone could be posed while they were under the influence and not remember any of it.’
‘In theory, yes.’
‘But doesn’t it make it difficult for them to walk? They were in a public place after all. They couldn’t just pick him up and throw him over their shoulders.’
Jacobson thought for a second. ‘I don’t want you to think I know too much about it, but I think they give them other drugs as well—cocaine probably. And if you’re in a club and the person stumbles or walks a bit woodenly everyone just assumes they’ve had too much to drink.’
‘Presumably you just slip it into their drink?’
‘Yes. And it’s very fast-acting. You might be aware of what’s happening at first, but you can’t move. Then the amnesia kicks in later.’
‘Jesus.’ Evan shook his head. ‘I can’t believe this stuff exists. It must have been developed by a serial rapist. Is it easy to get hold of?’
‘It is if you’re a vet. It’s mostly used on animals. Particularly horses.’
The mention of horses set off a vague memory in Evan’s mind but he couldn’t pin it down. It probably wasn’t important. ‘I remember reading about it now—people break into veterinary clinics and steal the stuff.’
Jacobson nodded, then turned back to his screen and carried on reading. ‘There’s a long list of side effects. I’ll send you the link. You might want to ask your client if he suffered from any of them.’
‘I’ll ask him but I think he’s more concerned about the effect on his wallet than on his body. And if he can’t keep the lid on this, his wife will cause him more harm than any drugs ever could.’
Chapter 5
JESSE CUT THE CALL and sat resting his head in his hands. He massaged his forehead with his fingertips, trying to smooth away some of the tension. Fat chance. The last thing he needed was Evan asking him a bunch of questions about side effects—how the hell was he supposed to remember, that was the whole problem.
That wasn’t all. What he hadn’t told Evan either on the phone or when they met was what had happened after he got home from pretending to go to work. There was a point in Evan’s office and in the phone conversation when he’d almost come out with it, but then decided against it. He didn’t really know why and Evan didn’t need to know anyway.
Diane had been in the kitchen, all dressed up and ready to go when he got back. She looked amazing, leaning her trim backside against the kitchen cabinet with her ankles crossed, leafing through a glossy magazine. Most likely Divorce Monthly.
He’d gone over and pecked her on the cheek, trying to see if the corner of the photograph he’d dropped was still poking out from under the cabinet. He couldn’t see it. Maybe it had been behind her feet. Perhaps she’d inadvertently kicked it back under without noticing. She put the magazine down and crossed the room to pick up her handbag. Jesse glanced down quickly again but still couldn’t see anything.
Not quick enough though—she’d noticed him looking.
‘Have you lost something?’
Was that a hint of a smile on her lips?
‘No.’
He did his best to smile, willing it into his eyes, feeling them widen in their sockets.
‘Are you sure? You keep looking down at the floor.’ She made a point of looking down too.
‘It’s nothing, really.’ He heard the strain in his own voice. ‘Shall we go?’
Jesse had then spent the next two hours eating the most expensive cardboard on the planet. At least that’s what it tasted like to him. Diane excelled herself, searching out the most expensive dishes on the menu and eating them with such enthusiasm he thought she’d found somebody else’s appetite. She normally picked at her food like an anorexic sparrow. They’d shared a bottle of wine that tasted like sea slug and mouse fur with an aluminum foil finish and a lingering oily clinginess, served up by the most pretentious sommelier Jesse had ever come across. He’d wanted to punch the sycophant, who kept calling him mon-sewer with the emphasis firmly on the sewer.
Diane had drunk most of the bottle herself and had become all giggly which wasn’t like her at all. He’d been so preoccupied when he got home he hadn’t noticed if she’d already had a drink while she was waiting for him. She’d spent the whole meal leaning forward across the table giving him a perfect view down her blouse.
Despite all of that, he couldn’t think of anything apart from getting back home and having a proper look under the cabinet. And hopefully finding the photograph somehow kicked to the back out of sight.
Diane was drunk when they got back home and went straight to bed. Almost immediately he heard her snores drifting down from the bedroom. He got down on his hands and knees and peered under the cabinet.
Shit.
There was an old roach motel—roaches check in, but they don’t check out!—lots of dust and hairballs, but no photograph. He slumped down with his back against the cabinet and ran his fingers through his hair. Where the hell was it? Had Diane found it? Surely, she would have said something. How could she have eaten a lunch like that if she’d just found a photograph of her husband having sex with another woman? On their anniversary too.
Maybe she decided not to say anything until she’d spoken to a lawyer. A ball-breaking, man-hating, bitch of a lawyer. Her friend Jo fitted the bill perfectly. He got up and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, dug her phone out of her bag and went through the call list. Nothing. But it didn’t make the lump in his throat or the knot in his stomach go away.
Diane hadn’t got up again until the following day. She’d been bright and breezy, like everything was back to normal. Which it was on the surface. Under the surface was a different matter as far as Jesse was concerned. The not knowing was driving him crazy. It was eating him up. He couldn’t sit around and wait for Evan, he was going to have to do something himself as well.
That meant another trip to Louisville.
Chapter 6
IT WAS TIME TO go to the police.
Gina thought the difficult decisions were over when she decided to take her clothes off for money. But at least if she went to the police they could do what they wanted with it and her conscience would be clear. And if she lost her job as a result she’d deal with that when it happened.
She was put through to a detective called Angel. She didn’t know if that was his first or last name but he sounded nice on the phone. His voice was friendly and reassuring and he sounded like he was taking her seriously. However, if she thought she was going to get away with a quick phone call to achieve the catharsis she was looking for she was mistaken. He wanted her to come in to see him, but agreed to meet her in a diner they both knew when she point blank refused.
‘No. I never saw them before that arrived.’ He jabbed a finger angrily at the photo lying on the desk.
‘Show me your wallet,’ Evan said suddenly, leaning forward on the desk, hand out.
Jesse frowned. ‘You sound just like one of them.’
‘Just let me see it.’
Jesse pulled out an expensive alligator skin wallet and held it out. Evan grabbed his wrist and turned his arm to look at his watch. It had more dials and knobs on it than a jet fighter’s cockpit.
‘What’s that? Breitling?’
Jesse didn’t manage to keep the smugness off his face. ‘Something like that. Not quite so commonplace.’
Evan looked in the wallet and whistled. ‘There must be a couple of thousand dollars in there.’
Jesse shrugged. ‘There’s no point in earning it if you can’t spend it.’
‘Jesus Jesse, you might as well walk around with a sign stuck on your head: I’m Jesse and I’ll be your mark this evening. Did you flash this around in there?’ He waved the wallet in the air, and then threw it on the desk.
‘I don’t remember.’ He slipped the watch off his wrist and looked at it. ‘I suppose I’m lucky they didn’t steal this as well. Diane bought it. She’d see it was missing in an instant. She gets pissed if I don’t wear it in the shower.’
Evan tried to dig up some sympathy for a man forced to wear a twenty-thousand-dollar watch night and day. He didn’t get very far with it.
‘What happened next?’
‘Some of the guys left. There was just me and one other guy and the two girls. They kept ordering more drinks and putting it on my tab, but even at their prices there’s no way it cost over thirty grand. I was pretty drunk by then.’
‘And that’s when they took you into one of the private rooms?’
Jesse gave an irritated head shake. ‘No, that’s when everything goes blank. The next thing I remember it was morning and I was back in my hotel room feeling like death warmed up with a plane to catch. At that point that’s all there was to it. Too much to drink and I crashed out.’
‘It’s definitely your body in the photo, is it? They haven’t photoshopped your head onto some other guy?’
Jesse shook his head. ‘It’s me. You can see a scar on my stomach.’
Evan picked up the photograph and looked closely. The girl’s blond hair was hanging down tickling Jesse’s stomach but he could just about make out a long, jagged scar.
‘So, you think they drugged you? Some kind of date rape drug maybe?’
Jesse gave a small shrug. ‘I guess. What else can it be?’
Evan looked back at the photo. There was definitely something about Jesse’s eyes. He saw it now. ‘You look wide awake in the picture.’
‘I don’t know, is there something they might have used that lets you function but gives you amnesia?’
‘Beats me, but I’ll check it out. What about the other guy? Have you spoken to him since?’
Jesse stood and walked over to the window and looked out. ‘No reason to. Until the photos arrived, I had no reason to think it was anything other than temporary memory loss brought on by too much booze. Since then you’re the only person I’ve told.’
‘Do you think he’s involved?’
‘Who knows? Anything’s possible but I’ve known him a long time.’
A thought suddenly crossed his mind. He turned to look at Evan.
‘Same thing might have happened to him.’
‘Is he rich too?’
And stupid too?
Jesse looked pained. ‘I’m not rich, Evan. I do okay, but I’m not rich. Forrest St. John Jnr. is rich. Obscenely rich. Or at least his father is. Most of our clients are.’
‘Is there any way you can sound him out?’
‘Difficult without showing my hand.’
‘I suppose so. Have you thought about going to the police?’
Jesse rocked back on his heels as if Evan had hit him and held up his hands. ‘No way. One, I can’t risk Diane finding out, and two, they’ve been through my wallet and my phone. They know where I work.’
‘Even so—’
‘Just think how it would look. The company sends me down to see some important clients and what do I do? Get smashed and walk smack bang into some sordid scam. What if that gets back to the clients? It’s an expensive mistake if we lose a client as a result of some scandal.’
‘You were with the client—’
Jesse snorted. ‘You know what rich people and scandal are like. I’d be out on my ear before I knew it. They’d probably fire me first just to be on the safe side. No job and no wife, I’d rather pay the thirty grand.’
‘That’s what they’re relying on. That’s probably why they’re not pushing harder, asking for more.’
Jesse considered the implications of what Evan had just said, fiddling with the knobs on his watch as he turned it over.
‘You mean they’ve got some blackmailer’s algorithm—plug in my job, my wife, an expensive watch and a fat wallet, push the button and out comes thirty grand. He’ll roll over on that but don’t push any harder.’
Evan nodded. ‘Something like that. They’ve probably got an app on their phone does it for them.’
‘So, you’ll look into it?’
‘Yeah, sure. I’ll start with the date rape drug angle.’
Jesse nodded his thanks. ‘I appreciate it. I read about that case of yours last year, the one with the kid and his father buried in the basement—’
‘The Claytons.’
‘That’s the one. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her to lose her kid and her husband. Jesus. At least you managed to give her closure. That must have felt pretty damn good. I sometimes wish I could do something worthwhile like that, instead of just make money.’
Evan was tempted to say it’s in your hands, no one else’s, but he stopped himself, reminded of the push he’d needed to start his own journey.
Jesse was almost out the door when he stopped and hesitated. He seemed at a loss for words, like he had something he wanted to say but didn’t know where to start. He fiddled with his expensive watch again and cleared his throat.
‘Whatever—’
With an awful premonition Evan knew he was about to ask about Sarah. He leapt from his seat, crossed the room in a couple of quick strides and frogmarched Jesse out into the hallway, slapping him enthusiastically on the back as they went, dislodging his sunglasses from where they perched on his head.
‘It was great to see you, Jesse, we should have a beer sometime. I’ll give you a call in a couple of days.’
He jabbed at the button for the elevator. While Jesse picked up his shades, he dashed back into his office and closed the door firmly behind him. Jesse never got a chance to say what was on his mind—even if the damage had already been done.
***
EVAN STOOD AT THE open window, hands stuffed into his pockets and breathed in the clean, fresh air, sucking it all the way down into the bottom of his lungs. He tried to clear his mind as he watched Jesse get into his fancy car and drive off. But his fingers brushed the smooth, worn metal of his Zippo lighter—the one he’d found half-buried in Carl Hendricks’ basement chamber. A cold shiver ran through him at the thought of how close he’d come to meeting his maker, a solitary, drawn-out death. He pulled the lighter out, ran his thumb over the inscription.
We the unwilling
Led by the unqualified
To kill the unfortunate
Die for the ungrateful
He knew the words by heart now, they’d become a mantra for him. It was a popular verse, engraved on hundreds, if not thousands, of lighters just like it. And there were other, similar verses—same sentiments, slightly different words. They were collectors’ items, that was all, everybody knew that.
But it didn’t matter what he thought in the cold, rational light of day. It didn’t stop his mind from driving him crazy in the small hours of the morning when all your doubts and fears come calling. Was it the same one?
And the one person who could have helped him, helped put a stop to the endless what ifs and maybes, had died two years ago, their relationship never patched up after Sarah’s disappearance. Despite what they’d said, that they didn’t blame him, they did.
One of these days he’d visit Hendricks in prison and ask him about it. Not that he expected any joy there either. Hendricks would never tell him the truth. He needed to stop carrying the damn thing around with him everywhere, but it had become a ritual, as automatic as putting on his watch in the morning.
And he sure as hell didn’t want to rake it all up with someone like Jesse, making things a hundred times worse with his well-intentioned comments about loss and closure.
Chapter 4
EVAN WENT DOWNSTAIRS TO see Tom Jacobson who ran a dental practice from the office below. He was busy at his desk and spun round in his chair when Evan walked in.
‘I want to ask you about date rape drugs,’ Evan said, sitting on the edge of the desk.
‘You mean how do they work, or can I get you some?’
‘Maybe both—if the price is right.’
Jacobson laughed. ‘Why do you want to know?’
Evan told him about Jesse’s problem and how he thought he’d been drugged.
Jacobson’s eyes narrowed. ‘I thought you’d given up all that seedy work, catching people in flagrante delicto. You know what that means?’
‘I do and I have. This is different’—Jacobson gave him a look that said he’d heard it all before—‘I’m trying to prove the guy didn’t do it. Or at least that he wasn’t aware he was doing it.’
‘Do you believe him?’
Evan hesitated a moment. That was the question. He stood up and wandered over to the window. He had a better view from his, even though Jacobson owned the building.
‘I think so,’ he said slowly.
‘But you’re not one hundred percent?’
‘No. That’s why I want to find out if it’s at least possible. Before I spend any time on it.’
Jacobson nodded. ‘It’s definitely possible. Do you know anything about date rape drugs at all?’
‘Never had cause to.’
Jacobson leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. ‘There are three main ones - Rohypnol, GHB and Ketamine. From what you’ve told me I’d say Ketamine was your best bet. You might have heard of it being called Special K.’
Evan shook his head. ‘Never buy it. I’m a cheerios man myself.’
‘That would explain a lot. Anyway, this particular Special K is a dissociative anesthetic.’
As always with Jacobson, Evan got the impression he’d taken the wrong turn and inadvertently wandered into a Mensa meeting.
‘Meaning what?’
‘It’s a type of hallucinogen.’ He turned back to his computer and did a quick search. ‘Here we go, the state it induces is defined as a trancelike cataleptic state characterized by profound analgesia and amnesia ...’
The dry medical description floated over Evan until the last word. ‘Did you say amnesia?’
‘That’s what it says here. That’s why people use it for date rape.’
‘So, it’s definitely possible he’s telling the truth. What was the other word? Cata ...’
‘Cataleptic. It means a lack of response to external stimuli coupled with muscular rigidity—basically the person’s limbs stay in whatever positions you put them in. Turns you into a giant kid’s doll.’
Evan nodded. It was all coming together now. ‘Which means someone could be posed while they were under the influence and not remember any of it.’
‘In theory, yes.’
‘But doesn’t it make it difficult for them to walk? They were in a public place after all. They couldn’t just pick him up and throw him over their shoulders.’
Jacobson thought for a second. ‘I don’t want you to think I know too much about it, but I think they give them other drugs as well—cocaine probably. And if you’re in a club and the person stumbles or walks a bit woodenly everyone just assumes they’ve had too much to drink.’
‘Presumably you just slip it into their drink?’
‘Yes. And it’s very fast-acting. You might be aware of what’s happening at first, but you can’t move. Then the amnesia kicks in later.’
‘Jesus.’ Evan shook his head. ‘I can’t believe this stuff exists. It must have been developed by a serial rapist. Is it easy to get hold of?’
‘It is if you’re a vet. It’s mostly used on animals. Particularly horses.’
The mention of horses set off a vague memory in Evan’s mind but he couldn’t pin it down. It probably wasn’t important. ‘I remember reading about it now—people break into veterinary clinics and steal the stuff.’
Jacobson nodded, then turned back to his screen and carried on reading. ‘There’s a long list of side effects. I’ll send you the link. You might want to ask your client if he suffered from any of them.’
‘I’ll ask him but I think he’s more concerned about the effect on his wallet than on his body. And if he can’t keep the lid on this, his wife will cause him more harm than any drugs ever could.’
Chapter 5
JESSE CUT THE CALL and sat resting his head in his hands. He massaged his forehead with his fingertips, trying to smooth away some of the tension. Fat chance. The last thing he needed was Evan asking him a bunch of questions about side effects—how the hell was he supposed to remember, that was the whole problem.
That wasn’t all. What he hadn’t told Evan either on the phone or when they met was what had happened after he got home from pretending to go to work. There was a point in Evan’s office and in the phone conversation when he’d almost come out with it, but then decided against it. He didn’t really know why and Evan didn’t need to know anyway.
Diane had been in the kitchen, all dressed up and ready to go when he got back. She looked amazing, leaning her trim backside against the kitchen cabinet with her ankles crossed, leafing through a glossy magazine. Most likely Divorce Monthly.
He’d gone over and pecked her on the cheek, trying to see if the corner of the photograph he’d dropped was still poking out from under the cabinet. He couldn’t see it. Maybe it had been behind her feet. Perhaps she’d inadvertently kicked it back under without noticing. She put the magazine down and crossed the room to pick up her handbag. Jesse glanced down quickly again but still couldn’t see anything.
Not quick enough though—she’d noticed him looking.
‘Have you lost something?’
Was that a hint of a smile on her lips?
‘No.’
He did his best to smile, willing it into his eyes, feeling them widen in their sockets.
‘Are you sure? You keep looking down at the floor.’ She made a point of looking down too.
‘It’s nothing, really.’ He heard the strain in his own voice. ‘Shall we go?’
Jesse had then spent the next two hours eating the most expensive cardboard on the planet. At least that’s what it tasted like to him. Diane excelled herself, searching out the most expensive dishes on the menu and eating them with such enthusiasm he thought she’d found somebody else’s appetite. She normally picked at her food like an anorexic sparrow. They’d shared a bottle of wine that tasted like sea slug and mouse fur with an aluminum foil finish and a lingering oily clinginess, served up by the most pretentious sommelier Jesse had ever come across. He’d wanted to punch the sycophant, who kept calling him mon-sewer with the emphasis firmly on the sewer.
Diane had drunk most of the bottle herself and had become all giggly which wasn’t like her at all. He’d been so preoccupied when he got home he hadn’t noticed if she’d already had a drink while she was waiting for him. She’d spent the whole meal leaning forward across the table giving him a perfect view down her blouse.
Despite all of that, he couldn’t think of anything apart from getting back home and having a proper look under the cabinet. And hopefully finding the photograph somehow kicked to the back out of sight.
Diane was drunk when they got back home and went straight to bed. Almost immediately he heard her snores drifting down from the bedroom. He got down on his hands and knees and peered under the cabinet.
Shit.
There was an old roach motel—roaches check in, but they don’t check out!—lots of dust and hairballs, but no photograph. He slumped down with his back against the cabinet and ran his fingers through his hair. Where the hell was it? Had Diane found it? Surely, she would have said something. How could she have eaten a lunch like that if she’d just found a photograph of her husband having sex with another woman? On their anniversary too.
Maybe she decided not to say anything until she’d spoken to a lawyer. A ball-breaking, man-hating, bitch of a lawyer. Her friend Jo fitted the bill perfectly. He got up and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, dug her phone out of her bag and went through the call list. Nothing. But it didn’t make the lump in his throat or the knot in his stomach go away.
Diane hadn’t got up again until the following day. She’d been bright and breezy, like everything was back to normal. Which it was on the surface. Under the surface was a different matter as far as Jesse was concerned. The not knowing was driving him crazy. It was eating him up. He couldn’t sit around and wait for Evan, he was going to have to do something himself as well.
That meant another trip to Louisville.
Chapter 6
IT WAS TIME TO go to the police.
Gina thought the difficult decisions were over when she decided to take her clothes off for money. But at least if she went to the police they could do what they wanted with it and her conscience would be clear. And if she lost her job as a result she’d deal with that when it happened.
She was put through to a detective called Angel. She didn’t know if that was his first or last name but he sounded nice on the phone. His voice was friendly and reassuring and he sounded like he was taking her seriously. However, if she thought she was going to get away with a quick phone call to achieve the catharsis she was looking for she was mistaken. He wanted her to come in to see him, but agreed to meet her in a diner they both knew when she point blank refused.
