Chapter 11
Thank God you got here, hot stuff. I’ve got about ten minutes to talk, then have to get back inside. My adoring public awaits.”
Seeing the concern on Francis’s face conflicting with his smart-assed élan, Viviana didn’t waste time. She knew her CI wouldn’t have sent her an urgent text if it weren’t serious. Particularly since he’d told her to come to his bar. In addition to being her number-one CI, Francis Flemings was the erudite owner of Flemings, the hottest bar in the essj. Usually, Francis required her to meet him in the guise of his doppelgänger personality, which was an over-the-top, cross-dressing madam. Just for the hell of it, he also required her to dress like a slut when they met. The fact that he had her come to his club as herself, sans costumes for either of them, underscored that something was up—something serious.
“I got here as quickly as I could, Francis. What’s the matter? You look stressed.”
Francis reached in his vest pocket for a pack of cigarettes and offered her one. At her refusal, he shook one out for himself. After three shaky tries he managed to light the cigarette and inhale a lungful of smoke.
Cutting to the chase, Francis said, “It’s Ariel, Viviana.”
Horrified at Francis’s expression, Viviana forced herself to ask the question she feared the answer to. “Is . . . is she dead?”
Francis shook his head violently. “No, thank God, she isn’t—at least not yet. But, Viviana, she overdosed—big time. Sister Eloise said that the hospital called to tell her that Ariel was in the emergency room. The ER doc said it was a miracle she was alive. From what they could tell, she not only had OD’d, but it also looked like she’d been assaulted.”
Viviana was shocked. “I don’t understand, Francis. Ariel was doing so well. The last time I saw her she was living at the shelter and working at Denny’s. She was even talking about getting her GED. She . . . she looked great.”
Francis exhaled loudly. “I agree. Hell, when I saw her last, she told me that things were going great at the shelter and that she’d gotten a raise at the breakfast joint. Imagine my surprise when Sister Eloise said that Ariel left the shelter over a week ago without telling her that she was going. The good sister tried to get information from some of the other girls at the shelter, but they couldn’t explain her disappearance either. Although one of the girls, Marilee, who also used to work the street, said that she’d heard from some of her former associates that Ariel was ‘working’ again.”
“God, Francis. I don’t get it. What could have happened for her to regress like that?”
Even as she said it, Viviana acknowledged the hard reality. For someone who’d led the kind of life that Ariel had, a relapse wasn’t unusual—if anything, it was expected. But still, to go back on drugs was one thing, but to start hooking again was a huge turnaround.
Francis shrugged. “I know what you’re thinking, Viviana. Unfortunately, we both know how fragile she is. I was so goddamned glad when you and Jax got her pimp Santiago Lopez and the rest of that hideous bunch behind bars, where I hope they’ll stay for eight eternities. I tried to believe that without Santiago in the picture, Ariel had a fighting chance to make it.”
Viviana nodded fiercely. “I agree. You and I both know that without her help, we never could have brought down that hideous group of pedophiles, not to mention one of the country’s most infamous pimps. And God, Francis, she put her life on the line for us. If she hadn’t confirmed who some of the players were, we’d probably still be sitting here with our thumbs up our butts, trying to convince Jax that a lot of his buddies were fucking pedophiles. We never could have made the breakthrough that we did if Ariel hadn’t been courageous enough to identify them.” Knowing that Francis agreed with her and had to be as upset as she was at Ariel’s relapse, Viviana breathed out a hard sigh. “Dammit, I really believed that she was going to make it. Especially when she agreed to live the shelter. Sister Eloise is truly an angel. Her success rate with hardcore juvenile offenders is phenomenal. Not to be believed. That’s why I was thrilled when Ariel went to live at the shelter.”
Francis’s expression contorted with disbelief, and he shook his head again. “That’s just it, Viviana. One of my madams, who’s been on the streets longer than Ariel has been alive, told me that I need to talk to Ariel. She told me that the word on the street is there is some bad shit going on at the shelter.”
“What?” Viviana was incredulous. “How can there be? For Christ’s sake, it’s run by nuns! And we both know Sister Eloise. God, if there ever was a living, breathing saint, it is that woman. She’s done more to help girls on the street than any one person I know.”
Francis shook his head in agreement, then glanced at his watch. Tossing his cigarette to the sidewalk, he ground it out with the heel of his boot. “Look, Viviana, I need to get back in. I’m short two wait staff tonight, and game two in the Cleveland/Bulls face-off is starting in ten minutes. Even though we all know the outcome, the bar is filled with diehards.” As he turned to go inside, Francis struggled to speak, the pain in his voice apparent. “We need to find out what the hell is going on, Viviana. We owe Sister Eloise that.”
Viviana snorted. “Not to mention what we owe Ariel, a sixteen-year-old heroine who literally put her life on the line for us and a whole lot of other young, abused girls like herself.”
Francis’s expression hardened. “I agree. Some serious shit had to happen, Sergeant Moreau, to drive Ariel back onto the streets.”
Viviana returned his hard glare and said softly, “You’re right, Francis. I don’t have to tell you that I will not rest until I figure out exactly what, and, or who caused the bravest young woman I know to fall off the rails.” She added grimly, “And when I do, I promise you, I’ll make them wish they’d never heard of Sergeant Viviana Moreau.”
As Francis turned to go into the bar, Viviana called after him, “I’m going to the hospital now, Francis.”
He sighed. “I knew you would say that, Viviana. Sorry, hot stuff. I already tried. Ariel bailed this morning. AMA, against medical advice. She’s in the wind.”
***
Nursing her second double scotch, Viviana heard him call out her name and turned to see Jax and, God help her, Greg Bannon loping though the crowded bar toward her. Wondering what the hell she’d done to have life sic those two particular men on her, she blew out a hard breath and planted a false smile on her lips. Seeing his eyes harden, Viviana knew she hadn’t fooled Jax. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, then yanked out the chair next to her and said to Greg, “Hmm, if I was paranoid, Commander Bannon, I might think that your sergeant isn’t particularly pleased to see us. What did you do to her today, on your first day as commander?” He nodded at her glass and said to the passing waiter, “Bring us what the lady is having.” He turned to Greg and said, “Sergeant Moreau insists on good booze. But then, I remember you learned that in Belize when you were pretending to be a bartender. As I recall, Compass Box Hedonism was our elusive sergeant’s preferred drink at that time. Unfortunately we haven’t been able to convince Francis Fleming to stock that overpriced libation.”
Wondering if Jax was purposefully referring to Belize to throw her off her stride, Viviana refused to take the bait. Ignoring Jax, she flashed a sunny smile at Greg. “Good afternoon, or is it evening, Commander Bannon?”
Greg’s smile looked somewhat strained when he replied. “I don’t know how best to describe it, except that it has been much too long, Sergeant Moreau, since you left the precinct . . . and our meeting.”
Jax’s frown darkened perceptibly, but he responded coolly, “Yes, Viviana, Commander Bannon mentioned that you skedaddled early today. I left you several messages, but when you didn’t return them, I took a chance that you may have come here.” Turning to Bannon, Jax said, “If ever there was a second home for SJPD officers and most of the hoi polloi in the city, it’s Flemings.” He looked up as Francis approached. “Ah, and here is the impresario of this fine establishment, Francis Flemings himself.”
Francis waved both Jax and Greg back into their seats and pulled out the chair next to Jax’s. “Good evening, Chief Hughes. As I understand, that is the name you are going by these days. Tell me, Jax, will you be the police chief longer than you were in Commander Bannon’s role?” Francis smiled at Greg and said, “The big money is on the fact that Jax decided he could better contain this irascible but lovely sergeant if he was an even bigger honcho. Not that as Sergeant Moreau’s current commander that should give you pause, sir.”
Jax laughed and said with a wink, “C’mon, Francis. Don’t try to scare the big guy off on his first day. Although, according to Commander Bannon, the sergeant didn’t stick around long enough for him to do much commanding.” Shooting both Viviana and Francis a narrowed gaze, Jax added, “Knowing Sergeant Moreau and you, Francis, as well as I do, I suggested to the new commander that when Viviana flies the coop as she’s inclined to do, a good bet is that like a homing pigeon, she’ll land at Flemings.”
Francis’s engaging grin widened. “Thank you, Chief Hughes, for the compliment. Whether it is true or not, any wise saloon owner will tell you that his take for the evening rises exponentially when the word gets out that the Enchantress is gracing his humble establishment.”
Greg glanced at his phone, then rose to his feet. “Sorry, folks, I need to take this call. Please excuse me.” He grimaced and added, “I presume that whatever Lieutenant Jensen needs will not be nearly as intriguing as this conversation is sure to be, but apparently duty calls.” He grinned at Jax. “I trust you can handle these two, Jax? Get to the bottom of their adventures? I only wish I could watch. In the short time I’ve been Sergeant Moreau’s commander, it’s clear I’m going to need all the advice I can get.”
After Greg left, Jax turned a decidedly less amused glance on both Viviana and Francis. “Okay, which one of you devious charlatans is going to tell me what the hell is going on?” He turned first to Viviana, then looked at Francis. “Given how un-forthcoming Sergeant Moreau is, how about we skip the mating dance and you tell me, Francis, what she’s roped you into now?” Seeing the troubled look Francis exchanged with Viviana, Jax settled back in his chair and nodded thoughtfully. Then leaning forward, his voice was silky soft, which made it even more threatening. “Better yet, why don’t you both come clean. Now!”