Last Diner Standing, page 8
“How are you?” I waved like I belonged there and then strolled toward the main room. Once I was out of the hallway, I wanted to run, but a large group of men—ten or so—stood in a circle and blocked the exit.
I started shoving my way through them, but they shoved back. I used my elbow to jab at them. I jostled through the throng and stumbled into the middle of the circle. Jess wore nothing but the thinnest of g-strings and a pair of reindeer antlers on a headband. She straddled a guy backwards so that she faced me. Reverse cowgirl style.
“Hey,” she said, glancing up. “Did you find Crystal?” She didn’t stop gyrating.
Jeez Louise, I was going to have to bleach my eyeballs. Too. Much. Boobage. “Nope, she was gone.”
Some dude with a bottle of beer tried to push me out of the way for a better view. I stomped on his toe and shoved back. “Do you know why Crystal was fighting with Freddy?”
The guy whose lap she rode stuffed dollar bills into her g-string. His eyes were glazed. “Yeah. I overheard them. She said she wanted money and he told her it didn’t belong to her. Said she’d go to the cops about it.”
“How did you hear all this?”
She raised her legs and spun around on his lap, shoving her breasts in the guy’s face. She glanced over her shoulder. “I was in the hallway and the door was half open.”
“Thanks, Jess.”
“You bet.” She focused on the guy and slapped her own ass.
I needed to get out of here. I fought my way back through the circle of men and staggered to the door and out into the night. Sweet, cold, fresh air with a hint of wood smoke from a fireplace nearby.
Janelle pulled her car up to the building. Roxy rolled down the window.
“Hurry up, I’m hungry.”
I climbed into the backseat and told them every salacious, boobtastic detail. “And I can’t unsee any of it.”
“Who the hell cares about that? What money is Chicken Licker talking about?” Janelle asked. She pulled into traffic. The roads were always congested this time of year. Christmas shoppers. She honked at the slow car in front of us. “Get your ass moving before I do it for you, pokey.”
“Maybe the money Asshat was throwing around?” Roxy asked.
“Exactly,” I said. “But where did the money come from? That’s the question. And why was Crystal asking Freddy about the money? Are Asshat and Freddy buddies?” I asked Janelle.
“I couldn’t tell you,” Janelle said. “But his brother, LD, might know.”
*
At Janelle’s, Tariq and Roxy flirted their way through dinner, feeding each other bites of meatballs. If they each started sucking a long string of spaghetti à la Lady and the Tramp, I was going to gag. Damon still wasn’t feeling very well and Janelle had a perpetual worried air. I was glad she was home, but I felt a pressing need to find that money. I was sure it was the key to finding Asshat’s assailant.
After dinner, I helped with the dishes and Sondra took her kids home.
“Listen, we should go see LD tonight.” Janelle stuck a lid on the plastic container of salad before sticking it in the fridge.
“It’s your first night home.”
“It won’t take that long. Tariq and Roxy can watch the kids. I’ll be home before ten.”
After we finished cleaning the kitchen, we took Janelle’s car. On the drive to LD’s apartment, she gave me Sheik’s family history.
“Well, LD’s the baby of the family and closest to Sheik. They’re thick as thieves.” That was the first time I’d heard her refer to her ex as anything other than Asshat. “LD has himself a little garage downtown. It’s profitable. When Sheik quit the muffler place, Little Donnell gave him side jobs.”
“Fixing cars?” I asked. That might explain the graveyard of dismantled vehicles in Asshat’s yard.
“Mmm-hmm. Off the books. That way, no child support. I’d always liked LD until then, but he helped Sheik dodge his responsibilities. What kind of a man quits his job so he doesn’t have to take care of his children?”
A really terrible one.
She pulled up to the Apple Creek Apartments, not far from my sister’s neighborhood.
“This place is beautiful,” I said, gazing up at the expansive brick building. “His garage must be doing really well to live here.”
“Like I said, off the books. If the IRS ever got a look at what he earned, his ass would be in prison before you could say ‘don’t drop the soap.’”
We took the elevator to the third floor, then Janelle knocked on the door. When he didn’t answer, she knocked again, louder this time. “Donnell, you open this door before I stick my foot up your ass. I know you’re home, I saw your Explorer outside.”
I heard a lock disengage and the door opened a crack. One big, brown eye framed with long lashes blinked at us.
“Hey, Janelle. Now’s not a good time.”
Janelle pushed her hefty breasts into the door and shoved him back. “Now’s not a good time for my ass to wind up in jail, either, but here we are.”
LD sighed and stepped back. A handsome man in his late twenties, he was tall with dark skin and a shaved head. But he also sported a black eye that was almost swollen shut and a dark bruise along his jaw. He wore track pants and no shirt. Judging by his six pack, LD did a lot of crunches.
“Who’s this,” he nodded, eying me up and down. With his one good eye.
“This here’s Rose. You step out of line, I’ll put you back in place.”
LD held up his hands. “Woman, you’re too violent. No wonder they arrested you.”
She glared at him. “But we both know I didn’t hit Sheik.” She marched over to the leather sofa, shrugged out of her coat and sat down. “We’ve got a few questions to ask.”
LD cast me a wary glance. “I don’t think we should be talking. The police said it wouldn’t be a good idea. Besides, I told you, it’s not a good time.”
A woman wearing a white t-shirt that almost reached her knees stepped into the room. She was pretty with mocha skin and long, dark, mussed hair. “What’s going on LD?”
“Get back in bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She shrugged and returned from whence she came.
“So let me get this straight,” Janelle said. “Your brother’s in a coma. I’m stuck in jail. And you’re getting knobbed?”
“Man, what can I do about any of that? Life is short. You got to live.”
“You could’ve bailed me out of jail.”
He crossed his arms over his bare chest. “How would that look, bailing out the woman who put my brother in the hospital?
“I told you, I didn’t do it,” she said.
“But everyone thinks you did. You two should go.”
“No problem,” I said. “Come on, Janelle.”
She looked at me as if I were crazy. “We’re not going anywhere. Not until this fool talks to us.”
“We can’t force him,” I said.
When LD hitched up the waistband of his pants, a large, gold watch slid down his wrist. “That’s right,” he said. “You can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to do. I’m a grown ass man.”
I glanced around the apartment, took in the thick off-white carpeting, the soft terra cotta walls, the big tan vase filled with twigs in the corner. The furniture looked expensive and the mammoth TV screen rivaled the Jumbotron. Then my eyes met Janelle’s. “I wonder what this furniture’s worth. And you know, I think the IRS is going to love that watch LD’s wearing. Looks expensive.”
He held up his hands in protest. “Now wait, that’s not funny.”
Janelle stood and grabbed her coat. “Yep. And I’m sure they’d be interested in knowing Asshat’s getting paid off the books.” She walked toward him and reaching up, thumped his black eye with her fingertip.
He cupped it with one hand. “Ow! Goddamn it, Janelle, that hurt.”
“Not as much as it’s going to, you little fucker.” She jabbed his stomach with a long, yellow nail. “Are you going to talk or do I have to call the IRS?”
He dropped his hand. “Fine.”
She nodded smugly and poked him once more. “Good.” Returning to the sofa, she sank down and pursed her lips. “Rose, ask your questions.”
I walked over to where Janelle sat and plopped down next to her. “Tell us the name of the door you ran into.”
Chapter 10
He opened his mouth a couple of times as if he was trying to figure out what to say, then finally shook his head. “I’ll tell you about Sheik, but not about this.” He pointed to his face.
“Fine,” Janelle said, “who wanted to hurt Sheik?”
LD sat in the chair across from us. “You know the answer to that.”
“Let me guess,” I said, “anyone who knew him? According to, well, everyone, Sheik is a ladies man. So who was he dating?”
“What am I, his social secretary?”
Janelle scooted to the edge of her seat. “You know that black eye you got, LD? You’re gonna think it feels good when I rip your balls off.”
“Shit, woman.” He crossed his legs. “I know he was dating some chick named Vi. Works at the Clip N Curl. She’s the only name I know besides Crystal.”
“Where did the money come from?” I asked.
He shifted uncomfortably in the chair and the leather made farty noises. We all pretended like we didn’t hear it. “I don’t know.”
“Where’d Sheik get the damn money?” Janelle yelled.
He thumped his chest with his palm. “I asked him over and over and he wouldn’t tell me. Wouldn’t pay what he owed me, either.”
“Yeah, I know that feeling,” Janelle said.
“Where do you think he got it?” I asked. “You must have some idea.”
“I don’t know, man.
“Take a guess.” I could tell LD knew more than he was letting on. Plus, that black eye he wouldn’t talk about made me more than a little suspicious. “How does Sheik make his money?”
Janelle pursed her lips. “I’d like to know that myself.”
He rubbed a hand over his bald head and sighed. “Fine. When he needs green, he’ll gank off with stuff.”
I glanced over at Janelle. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Sheik steals cars, mostly,” LD said. “Chops ’em.”
“Who does he chop for? You?” I asked.
“Look, man.” He spread his hands in front of him. “I’m out there hustling for dollar, just like everybody else. Nothing wrong with that.”
“Actually, there are many things wrong with that. Someone just stole my car. And I worked hard for that piece of crap. I take it very personally.”
Janelle nudged my shoulder. “Rein it in, girl, this isn’t about you.”
“Fine. What about Crystal?” I asked.
“She came by the other day.” LD glanced at Janelle. “She was pissed that Sheik wasn’t throwing any bank her way. Said he owed her, then he goes up in the club like a whale, and she went off.”
I held up my hand. “English, please.”
“Sheik got some money. From somewhere—”
“You mean he stole it,” Janelle said.
He shrugged. “He takes it into The Bottom Dollar like he’s the shit and starts getting lap dances from every girl there but Crystal. She starts a fight and gets tossed out on her ass. Then she comes crying to me, like I could do something. Hell man, like I said, Sheik owes me money, too.”
“Crystal was in the club tonight asking Freddy Libra about the money. Why would Freddy know anything about it? Were Sheik and Freddy friends?”
“Nah, not that I know of. Look, I can’t figure that girl out. She’s half crazy.”
I eyed LD and his black eye. “How did you feel about Sheik buying bling and strippers instead of paying you?” I asked. Had he been angry enough to bash in Sheik’s head? Maybe Sheik hit LD and LD hit back twice as hard.
“I didn’t put Sheik in the hospital, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Janelle huffed. “If you see Chicken Licker again, you tell her to back off. That money is for my kids and my lawyer fees, you got it?”
“That’s not my business. I’m not getting in between you and Crystal. That’s suicide, man.”
That damn missing money. It always circled back to that. Roxy and I didn’t find it at Asshat’s house—unless it was so well hidden we missed it. And Crystal didn’t have it because she was in the club tonight asking for money. And maybe it was linked to Sullivan and the surveillance stuff I found in Asshat’s toilet tank.
“Where do you think the money is now?” I asked him.
“No idea. Seems like it’s a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Is that why you’re sporting the shiner? Somebody wanted it and thought you knew where it was?” Sounded like a reasonable explanation to me.
“I told you, I ain’t talking about that.” He stood. “Y’all need to go.”
Janelle and I left the apartment, and as we walked toward the elevator, I glanced over at her. “So, where would Sheik hide a bunch of money?”
She shot me a look. “You’re assuming that asshole had any left. Probably spent it all on hoes and fake ass ice. Never gave a dollar to his kids. I wish I had hit him. He wouldn’t be in the hospital, he’d be on a slab.”
We climbed into her car and she let it warm up before pulling out of the lot.
“I still think Chicken Licker did it,” she said.
“Then why did she go to The Bottom Dollar and ask Freddy about the money?”
“Hell, I don’t know. But if I had any money, I’d put it on her.”
After Janelle pulled into her driveway, I climbed out of the passenger seat and waved goodbye, before hopping into Ax’s car. While I waited for the heater to kick in, I pulled the pictures of Sullivan and the detailed notes out of my purse. I had a really bad feeling about this. Missing money. Surveillance info. I knew I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.
According to the notes, Sullivan spent the last two Tuesday nights from nine p.m. to two a.m. at Penn’s Cigar Bar. He was going to be pissed I didn’t tell him about this right away. Especially after he ponied up for Janelle’s bail. But the longer I put it off, the harder it’d be.
I called and told him to expect me in fifteen minutes, then I drove to the one story brick building. With its arched, leaded windows it looked more like a church than a bar. A blazing fire burned in a brick fireplace along one wall and a long bar took up another. Thick, rich cigar smoke hung in the air. Roxy would be in heaven.
It was busy for a Tuesday night. Mostly couples occupied the wooden tables, and a piano player tinkled the ivories in one corner.
Henry, Sullivan’s henchman, met me at the door. Henry scared the ever loving crap out of me. He was a giant, close to seven feet. His crooked nose never quite recovered from getting punched a few too many times and a scar stood in relief next to his left eye.
“Follow me,” he said.
“I guess we’re going to skip the chitchat, huh?” I followed his broad back past the bar, down a hall to the last room on the left. Henry opened the door to an office. A nicely appointed one with no windows and heavy, masculine furniture.
Sullivan sat behind a massive desk. Hotter than a bonfire on the fourth of July. Runner of an illegal gambling operation. Object of more than one erotic dream. He glanced up when the door opened and studied me with his gold eyes.
He was gorgeous. Warm, honeyed skin and strong cheekbones. Black hair brushed away from his flawless face. Yeah, gorgeous almost covered it.
“Hello, Rose.”
I barely heard the door close behind me. “Hey.”
He stood and walked toward me. He circled me, sliding his hands beneath the back collar of my coat. His long fingers brushed my nape, sending shivers over every part of my body. When he leaned forward, his chest touched my back. “Whatever got you here, it must be important,” he said in my ear.
“Kind of, yeah.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to come to me.” He slowly pulled the coat from my shoulders and down my arms. I spun to watch him casually toss it over his brown leather desk chair. “Want a drink?” He reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out a nearly empty squat bottle. It carried a fancy foreign label. Snagging two glasses off a shelf, he walked past me to a round table at the other end of the room. He was all lithe grace and smooth moves. “Please, sit.”
It wasn’t a request.
I walked to the table, slid into a chair. He did the same.
He poured a small amount of liquor into both glasses. Handed me one.
“Is this whiskey?” I sniffed.
“No, I remember you don’t like it.” His eyes met mine as he leaned back.
I took an experimental sip. It was fiery and burned its way down my throat, but it wasn’t unpleasant. “What is it?”
“Brandy.”
I took another sip. “Now that’s a good stripper name.”
He raised a dark brow. “Do you need a stripper name?”
“You don’t happen to own The Bottom Dollar, do you?” Sullivan owned a lot of businesses around town, many of them bars like this one.
“Not yet, why?”
“Arrogant.”
“It’s not arrogance if it’s true.” He smirked. Arrogantly.
I nibbled my lip. “I’ve got a story to tell you. No interruptions until I’m through.”
He narrowed his eyes a bit and nodded. “All right. It’s your show.”
“As you know, my friend, Janelle, was accused of putting her ex-husband, Asshat, in a coma.”
His lips edged up in the corners.
“Asshat is a ladies man. And a few days before his argument with Janelle, he went to The Bottom Dollar and was throwing money around. But Asshat doesn’t have a job.” I shook my head. “At least not on the books. So where did he get all that money? Anyway, at the strip club, he got a lap dance from every girl there, except his ex-girlfriend, Chicken Licker.”
Sullivan held up a hand. “I have to stop you there. Why Chicken Licker?”
“Because she and Asshat ate chicken and diddled each other in Janelle’s bed. At the same time.”
He paused. “That’s a disturbing image.”
