Chapter Seventeen
Outside the back door of Beauregard’s, Lusinda stood with her face turned toward the sun, letting the faint breeze stir her hair. Clouds were gathering and over the fishy smell of the river, she could smell rain.
When Rick finally came outside, he had his phone out and was checking something.
“You haven’t said anything to your bosses,” she said.
He didn’t look up. “About what?”
“Could you look at me please?”
He looked up at her through his eyelashes, his hooded gaze unnerving.
“You know what I’m talking about. If you had said anything I doubt I’d be on sick leave right now. I’d probably be fired.”
He looked back down at his phone.
“Damn it, would you please talk to me for one minute?” she cried, biting her lip as one of the cleaning staff stepped outside with a bag of trash for the dumpster.
Rick pocketed his phone and stood with his arms crossed. “No. I haven’t said anything. It’s not…relevant.”
She lifted her chin. “I agree.”
He studied her. “You doing okay?”
Her stupid heart skipped a beat at the unexpected concern in his voice. “Sure. A little shaky, and for some reason I feel really tired, but I’m okay.”
“Probably the lingering effects of the drug in your system.”
She shook her head in irritation. “It should be gone by now.”
“And you should be at home, on sick leave.”
“I am aware of that.”
“Well, then, leave. You don’t work here anymore.”
“No kidding.”
“So get out of here. You have no business here.”
“But who’s going to watch you to be sure you’re being a good boy?” she asked, in a feeble attempt to lighten the tension between them.
He glared at her. “You are putting yourself in a dangerous situation. Don’t you realize that if something happens, you’ll have no backup? Nobody knows that you’re here.”
“You’ll know.”
“I am not babysitting you. You need to leave.” He leaned in and spoke softly. “You’re compromising my investigation by being here.”
“No I’m not. I can help you. What about the bad dope? The people who have died?”
“Not your problem. Just go away and stop trying to play cop.”
His words hit her like a slap to her face. “Play cop? Did you really just say that?”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean that. Look, Sin. I can’t risk being distracted by worrying about you.” He turned on his heel and reached for the door.
His words didn’t match his tone or his demeanor. In a different setting, what he was saying would sound and feel like pillow talk. “Rick, wait! I want to help.”
“No. You want to make amends for lying to me and trying to prove me dirty.” His voice was cold and condemning. It cut through her heart like a razor blade.
“I had a job to do. You make it sound like I was trying to frame you.”
He stood there, his hand on the doorknob, the anger and—if she could trust her eyes—hurt on his handsome face. “Somebody did,” he said.
“Well it wasn’t me.”
He let go of the doorknob and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close to his body. She resisted, not trusting his motive, but he held on to her. He bent his head down until his lips were near her ear. She could feel his breath on her neck. Despite the situation, her pulse sped up.
“If you don’t stay away from here, I’ll tell your boss what you’re doing.”
She stiffened and pushed against him. “You won’t do that.”
He let go of her and she almost stumbled backward. “Try me.” His tone was even, but his eyes blazed.
“I know you don’t want to believe me, but this is my battle too. Too many people have died.”
He ignored her and opened the door.
“Wait! I swear, if you don’t agree to talk to me, I’ll show you what a real scene looks like.”
Without turning around, he said, “I get off at midnight, unless it’s too busy for one bartender. Saturday night, you know.” Then he went inside, leaving her standing there in front of the dumpster with fat drops of rain splashing on her head and shoulders.
Nina came out to have a smoke. She took one look at Lusinda and shook her head. “Sorry, girl,” she said. She lit her cigarette and walked around to the side of the building.
Lusinda was so furious she could barely think, and so hurt she could barely move. Her eyes filled with tears but she dashed them away with a shake of her head. Of course Rick had a right to feel betrayed by her, but this mess was as much his fault as it was hers. Neither one of them should have allowed their attraction to get in the way of the job.
She turned on her heel and headed back to the hotel. She had no idea what she was going to say to him tonight. She knew what she wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that she’d been stupid enough to fall for him. That she needed him to acknowledge how she felt and tell her he felt the same way. But she couldn’t do that. She wasn’t a teenager with a crush.
If he wasn’t willing to acknowledge his part of the blame, then the best she could do was tell him that they were both consenting adults and cops, and that it had taken two people to do what they’d done. Then she would ask him if he could put aside personal issues and allow her to help him with the real investigation, which was to find out who was distributing the bad dope and stop them.
The trouble with her plan was that not only did they both know she was on sick leave, they also both knew she was no longer assigned to investigate him. Her assignment had been canceled.
*
Lusinda sat up until two a.m., then gave up and went to bed. How stupid was she to think that Rick would be willing to talk to her? To him she was a traitor, a seductress, a liar and probably a disgrace to the badge as well. Cops like him had their own code of honor. She knew that because of Vic. Her partner, Victor Fouchere, had taught her the cop’s code of honor, but even he had his own quirks. She’d seen him kick away a syringe or drop one of his cigarette butts into the middle of a crime scene if he thought it was necessary in order to protect one of his sources, CIs or to give a break to a druggie he knew was trying to get straight.
So in a way she understood that Rick viewed himself and her as unworthy of the badge because they had sex. She could hear Vic now. There are some things you just don’t do, Tadpole. You don’t betray another officer, and if you’re going down, you don’t take them with you.
When the sharp knock on her door woke her, she jumped a foot off the bed. She looked at the time. It was after four. “Who is it?” she called out hoarsely as she reached for the switch on the lamp beside the bed.
“Me,” a gruff voice answered.
Lusinda’s heart jumped into her throat. “Rick?”
“Yeah.”
She peeked out, then undid the chain and opened the door. “What are you doing so late?”
He came inside and closed the door behind him. He looked exhausted as he rubbed his face. “Got anything to drink? Some juice?”
She smiled wryly. “As a matter of fact I do. Courtesy of my boss.”
With a quick glance around her apartment, Rick headed for the refrigerator. “I thought my place was bad,” he muttered. He grabbed the carton of juice and turned toward the cabinets.
“Yeah, well, welcome to the Roach Motel.”
Rick shot her a look that she couldn’t interpret, because it vanished in an instant and he smiled. “Not even a balcony?”
She swallowed. “Are you feeling the need to sit outside?”
His smile faded and he gestured toward the cabinets. “Where are the glasses?”
“Oh, you spoiled man. These are all I have.” She pointed to the dish drainer on the counter beside the sink, where two white mugs sat upside down. “Would you rather have the one that has a chip right where your mouth goes, or the one that has a crack and leaks slowly? I have a paper towel you can use with it.”
He picked up the one with the chip and poured some juice into it, then held up the carton.
She shook her head.
He inspected the couch and the single, straight-backed chair and then apparently decided to stand. He turned up the mug and drained it, then set it on the counter. “Thanks. Now what do you want?”
Lusinda tried not to be upset by his tone. She knew he was pissed at her. She couldn’t help that. All she could do was try to talk him into letting her help. “I need to tell you some things.”
“Okay. Is one of them going to be your real name?”
She stared at him.
“Lusinda Johnston, right?”
“How—?”
“In the ER. Apparently they got a call from your boss at the BPI.”
She breathed deeply, hoping she could suck in a little courage with the air. “First, I’m really sorry for how you found out about me.”
“Yeah. I should have known.”
“That I’m a cop? How?” she asked. “What mistakes did I—” She stopped when she saw his jaw muscle work. “Okay, never mind.”
“So…?”
“Yeah. I guess the most important thing I need to tell you is that Carlos hinted to Beau that you might be working for T-Gros.”
Rick looked surprised. “How in hell do you know that?”
“I asked Carlos to give me some information that would help me at Beauregard’s. You know—get in good with Darla and Earl, make the other waitresses like me, find out more about you.” She shrugged, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. Saying what she’d done out loud made it sound so much worse than she’d thought it was. “Carlos told me that’s how he convinced Beau to hire you.”
“So that’s why…” Rick started.
“Why what?”
“Nothing,” he said dismissively. “Got anything else?”
She nodded. “One more thing. I know that you’re a good cop. I know you were framed. And I understand why you needed to take this job.”
He poured another mugful of orange juice and took a swallow.
“Rick, I know about your brother.” She held her breath.
His gaze snapped to hers. “My—What are you talking about?”
“I know about Johnny.”
For a long moment, Rick didn’t speak. A slideshow of emotions flashed across his face, ending with anger. “How in hell—?” He cut himself off and compressed his lips and closed his eyes.
“I was looking for something to use as a pillow that first night. I tried your jacket, but when I put it under my head, paper kept crackling. I fished the piece of paper out of the pocket. I didn’t mean to read it. I’m sorry. But I saw that it was from Carlos, written on a notepad that said From the desk of Jack Adams. Then later, I remembered that your file had said you had an older brother named John. John, Jack, Johnny. It all fit together.”
Rick walked past the couch and looked out the hazy windows. He stood there for a long time without speaking.
She sat on the couch, waiting for him to yell at her or stomp out or whatever he was going to do, but he just stood there, staring out the windows. After a few moments, she heard his breath hitch.
Without even thinking, she got up and walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He flinched but he didn’t pull away. “Rick, whatever happened between you and your brother, I know that you love him. And I’m positive he loved you. I know you have to find whoever is distributing the contaminated heroin. You need your brother’s death to count for something. I understand a lot more than you think I do.”
Rick put his hand to his head. Lusinda stepped back, thinking he was about to whirl and yell at her. But he didn’t. Instead, he turned slowly and put his hand on the back of the couch. “Sorry,” he said. “Been a long day.”
She stepped out of his way and he walked carefully around the couch. “Got a headache,” he said, starting to sit.
“No,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Not here. I’ll take you into the bedroom. You need to lie down.”
To her surprise and sadness, he didn’t object. He let her lead him to her bed. “Let me make sure there are no bugs,” she said.
“Don’t care.” He lay down carefully on the bed. His breathing was a little erratic and he put his arm over his eyes.
Lusinda turned out the light she’d switched on as she came into the room. “I’ll get you a cloth,” she whispered and ran to the bathroom to wet a washcloth with cold water. She wrung it out and folded it. Back in the bedroom, she gently pushed his arm away and laid the cool cloth over his eyes.
“Do you have medication?” she asked.
“Downstairs,” he murmured. “Behind police tape.”
“I’ll go get it.”
“They changed locks.”
“What can I do?”
“Nothing. Probably get sick later, then sleep.”
“Would ice help?”
“Just need to sleep.”
“Okay,” Lusinda said. “Here’s the trashcan, on the floor by your head, in case you get sick. I’ll leave you alone.”
He didn’t answer, so she tiptoed toward the door to the front room.
“Sin?”
“Yeah?”
“Stay?”
She had no idea what he meant or if he even knew what he was saying. She’d read about the migraines that had developed after the bullet he’d taken to the head during the chase with the drug dealer. But the two sentences in the file hadn’t described how severe the headaches were.
He patted the bed beside him.
“Sure. I’ll be right there.” She locked the front door, fetched his partial mug of juice and grabbed the half-roll of paper towels off the kitchen counter, then went back into the bedroom. After setting the juice and towels on the bedside table, she lay down beside him.
When she did, he sighed.
Lusinda listened to his breathing until it began to even out. Then she went to sleep.
Sometime early in the morning, she awoke to find him lying on his side beside her, watching her.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
He didn’t move or speak.
She knew he was awake. She could see his eyes sparkling. She wasn’t sure what to do. Maybe she should get up, but it was more dark than light outside, so she knew it was very early. What she wanted to do was snuggle into the warmth and safety of his body and go back to sleep, but she didn’t have the nerve to do that. He’d been so angry with her, and she wasn’t sure if she could stand it if he pushed her away.
He lifted himself up onto his elbow and looked down at her. “Thank you,” he said.
“For what?” She smiled a little unsurely.
“For taking care of me. For believing in me.”
“Oh.”
He leaned over and kissed her.
“Rick?”
“Hmm?” he whispered against her mouth, then kissed her deeply and thoroughly.
“Nothing,” she murmured when she could speak.
Rick chuckled and rolled over on top of her. He pressed his arousal against her and rocked, rhythmically until she was so close to climax that she could barely breathe. Then he rolled away.
“No,” she cried.
“Pants,” he said breathlessly. It only took him a few seconds and he was back, kissing her and caressing her until she was begging him for release. He lifted himself above her and entered her with a smooth, easy motion. Then he pulled away and pushed again and again, until she felt as though she were going to burst like a sky full of fireworks. And with one more thrust, she did.
They climaxed together. After a few moments of languid touching and nibbling in the afterglow, Rick lay beside her and pulled her close. She lay with her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest, and felt so safe and warm and loved that she was almost too afraid to believe it.
After a while, despite her longing to lie awake in his arms as long as she possibly could, she fell asleep.
*
When Lusinda awoke the next morning, she was alone in the bed. She sat up, her heart beating painfully in her chest. Rick was gone. Then she saw a note on the nightstand.
It read, Gone to B’s for noon shift. Go home and rest. Stay away from B’s. He’d signed it with an expansive R.
Lusinda didn’t know whether to be insulted because he hadn’t woken her before he left and had reverted back to ordering her around, or just thrilled that he’d left her a note. She took a quick shower, but before she finished dressing she got a phone call. The number was blocked.
“Hello, Ms. Sin Stone? This is Anastase Beauregard. I wonder if I could see you in my office at Beauregard’s at eleven-thirty. I believe you know where it is, since you have worked here.”
Lusinda felt as though she’d been slammed in the belly with a bowling ball. Beau wanted to see her? How could she refuse? She couldn’t.
“Of course, Mister Beauregard,” she said. “I’ll be there. How do I find your office?”
“I’ll send a car.”
“You don’t need to—”
“Goodbye,” he said, then hung up.
“…send anyone,” she muttered. She finished dressing, putting on the red leather skirt and black long-sleeved shirt. She was waiting on the sidewalk when the car arrived. The driver got out and opened the rear door for her. When they arrived at Beauregard’s, he did it again, but instead of escorting her through the front door of the club, he took her to a side door and opened it with a key.
“Here you are, ma’am,” he said politely, standing back for her to enter. “First door on your left.”
The door was heavy and ornate. Lusinda knocked on it, but no one answered, so she turned the handle and opened it. The room was large, with a poker table in the center, a beautiful polished wood bar, and an exit door on one side and a sofa, three easy chairs, and another ornate door on the other. Lusinda crossed the room and knocked on the second door.
“Come in.”
Lusinda jumped. She hadn’t expected anyone to answer her knock. Her hands shook as she turned the handle and peered into the room, which was dark except for a banker’s lamp on the large desk.
“Ms. Stone.” The voice belonged to a very large man who was sitting behind the desk. He tipped the glass shade of the lamp until the light shone on her, leaving him in shadow. The bowling ball slammed into her belly again, leaving her shaky and nauseated. She wanted to turn and run.
“M-mister Beauregard?” She squinted and held up a hand to block the glare.
“Oui,” he said. He tilted the lampshade back into position. “You are the waitress who almost died with my dear friend Carlos.”
“Yes,” Lusinda said, the word catching in her throat. She hadn’t expected this. She’d been prepared for him to tell her she was fired, or that she still had her job. She’d even figured he might want to talk to her about Rick. But Carlos? She tried to see past the lamp’s light, to study his face, but it was still in shadow.
“Have you recovered from your experience?”
“I’m fine, thank you. Carlos was your friend?”
“Yes. For many years. Sit. Please.”
Lusinda sat. Beau had a hint of the rhythmic, pleasant accent of the Cajun French, but as nice as he seemed, she suspected that he could have her escorted to the street or shot right there in his office and it would be all the same to him. In fact, if even half of what she’d heard about Beau was true, she could disappear and no one would ever know what happened to her. “Poor Carlos. He was a good man. We had occasion to work together many times. He was also a friend of yours?”
“I didn’t know him very well, but he was the partner of Jack Adams, the attorney.” She could barely discern Beau’s features, but not well enough to see his reaction to Jack Adams’s name.
“Ah, yes. Jack Adams. He died of an overdose of heroin, I heard. A great tragedy. It is always sad to lose someone whose calling is to aid children.”
“Mister Beauregard, you wanted to see me about something?”
“Yes, I did. I know that you worked here for several weeks prior to the incident with Carlos. I also know that you are a police officer.”
The timbre of his voice changed.
Searing panic flooded Lusinda. “I don’t understand. I’m not—Why would you think that?”
“Please don’t try to deny it. I’ve been in this business for a long time. I wouldn’t still be alive if I was not very good at reading people. It’s almost impossible for an officer to leave behind the training, the habits and the reactions that make him—or her—a good officer. Those things that make an officer good at their job also make them easy to identify.”
“I swear to you, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was hoping you called me in to give me my job back.”
“Maybe it would help if I called you Officer Johnston, or Lusinda.”
Lusinda was struck dumb. He knew her real name. She stared at Beau’s glittering eyes, feeling the terror rising to the back of her throat like an un-uttered scream. “H-how?” was all she could manage.
“Mine is not a two-bit organization. I probably should be cautious about telling you my secrets. On the other hand, there won’t be anyone for you to tell. I have a lot of resources and I know how to use them to best effect. I have cameras everywhere. Directly above the computer where you enter your orders and tips, behind the bar, in the storeroom and dozens of other places.” He smiled, his bulging cheeks shiny in the lamplight. “I have very specialized staff who spend a lot of time doing background checks on employees. They have instructions to run facial-matching software on every employee and DNA matching if possible.”
Beau tilted the lampshade again, and Lusinda’s hand shot up automatically to shield her eyes. “I hope I’m not boring you with all this technical information,” he said.
All Lusinda could do was wince at the harsh light. She couldn’t speak. She was barely holding in the screams. A small corner of her brain wondered if she could take Beau, but she was sure there was a third person in the room. She’d either heard or sensed him. He was probably a bodyguard and was almost certainly armed.
“Do you see where I’m going with this?” Beau asked, and when she didn’t answer, he barked, “Do you?”
He tilted the lampshade back down and picked up a piece of paper from his desk. “This.” He held it out. “Take it.”
She reached out and took the sheet of paper. It was barely discernible in the light of the lamp, but she could tell that it was a printout of two photos of her. She didn’t recognize the one on the left, but the photo on the right was from her personnel file at the Baton Rouge Police Department.
“Now do you see?” Beau’s tone was harsh and impatient. “Didn’t I tell you my staff is very specialized?”
Lusinda figured she wasn’t going to survive this day, but if she did, she wanted to absorb as much information as possible about Beau’s operation. She cleared her throat and hoped she could talk. “You do this on everybody?”
She saw Beau’s benign, disturbing smile. “Yes, I do.”
“So you can tell me about Richard Easton?”
The smile faded. “Your boyfriend? Absolutely. But why? Do you know something about him?”
She shook her head. “That’s the problem.” She had no reason to believe that she would live through this day. Based on what Beau had just told her, Rick was probably doomed as well. So, she decided to take a risk that could cost her and Rick everything. She owed it to the people who had died from the bad dope. Especially Carlos. If she hadn’t completely lost her professional integrity and gotten involved with Rick, Carlos might still be alive.
She took a deep breath. “I can’t figure Rick out. One minute I think he’s working for you. The next minute I think he’s working for T-Gros.” She waited. If Beau knew that Rick was a cop, it was all over. But if he didn’t…
“Your goal is to figure him out?”
She did her best to look frightened but determined as she nodded. It wasn’t a huge stretch.
“I don’t suppose it will hurt to tell you what I know. My people seem to have run into a dead end with him. He doesn’t appear to be from here. We have feelers out in Chicago, but nothing has been confirmed yet. But I have run out of time and patience. I need to take action before things get out of hand. Your boyfriend works for T-Gros Grossman.”
“What?” Lusinda spoke before she could stop herself.
Beau laughed. “Not what you expected? Yes. He’s been spying on me for that little rat. So, Officer Johnston, have you met Mr. Grossman?”
“No.”
“Would you like to take a ride out to his club in Metairie? He’s there this afternoon.”
She shook her head.
“Too bad. You’re going anyway.” He gave a short nod and the man Lusinda had known was waiting in the dark came forward.
“Goodbye, Officer Johnston. It’s been nice talking to you.”
The bodyguard took her arm and pulled her up out of the chair. “Wait,” she said.
Beau lifted his hand. “Let me make something clear, Officer. If you show the slightest hesitation about getting into the car outside, if you sneeze or toss your hair or make a gesture, no matter how vague, something very bad will happen to your friend Nina. I know you wouldn’t want that. She’s has a mother who is very ill. It would be a shame for something to happen to her mother or her, now wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, fine. Please don’t hurt Nina.”
“It’s up to you.”