Cold Burn (7 page)

Whiz stops, and his gaze gets lost in the distance. Maybe he does that because his mind works so much faster than those belonging to the rest of us, and he feels he needs to give us some time to catch up with his train of thought.

"There is a database that is most interesting and that may help identify the beneficiaries of the payment. It allocates some sections of Florida to some of said beneficiaries. So, for instance, 'MDC' belongs to 'SC' while 'PBC' changed hands about two years ago. It went from 'SW' to 'ST.'"

I immediately think that "SW" could be the initial of Steven Williams, the police captain who married Lisa and David's mother last year, but then I realize I'm jumping the gun because there are probably a dozen other police officers in the county with the same initials.

"What is more interesting," Whiz says, "are the copies of the documents related to various businesses that belong to a corporation called the Unrepentant Southern White Wizards."

"Have you ever heard of them before?"

"Not before this morning, but now, I have found out more than I ever wanted to know about them," Whiz says. "It's the official front of a white supremacist group. If you want their corporate structure and the activities they are involved with, I should be able to gather the data for you within a few days."

"Yeah, please do that."

"Anything in particular I should be looking for?"

"I'm not sure…"

"Maybe if you tell me who the client is, it would help," he suggests.

I think about it for a second and decide to tell him the truth. "I'm the client, and I would appreciate it if it you could keep this between us. This is about the murder of a friend of mine. He was a police officer, and he was investigating some local organized crime unit when he was killed."

"That would be Lisa's brother," Whiz says, surprising me once more. Most of the time, he seems oblivious to what’s happening around him, but every so often, he says something that proves he's not the absent-minded professor we believe him to be. "I only saw her once, last year when you took her to the clubhouse. She's very lovely. A real sweet girl. You should bring her here someday."

The way he smiles at me, I can't figure out if he's being facetious or not.

Since I have no sense of humor when it comes to Lisa, I snap back at him, "I don't think so."

He laughs. "It figures!" he says, revealing he was baiting me.

Delicately unfolding his long frame from the chair, he tells me that there's a terrified-looking prospect waiting for me at the bar.

That would be Earplugs. Tonight's the night I'm introducing him to Patricia.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I ride by my mother's house and see that Tony's car is gone. I park half a block away and return to her house on foot. I walk through the backyard and peek through the kitchen door; Mum's sitting at the table, nursing a cup of coffee, with a novel in hand. When I knock on the glass part of the door, she looks at me and smiles. It's a sad smile, but still, it's a smile.

"Come on in, Brian," she says as she gets up and pours me a cup. "Did you have breakfast? I can cook up something for you."

"No thanks, Mum." A wave of guilt washes over me as she struggles to keep her smile. Feeding her loved ones is her favorite way to show her affection. Turning down breakfast after we just started talking again is a major mistake on my part.

"Can I get a rain check? I worked all night, and I just dropped by to give you a hug on my way to bed," I explain.

She nods. The ghost of David hovers in the kitchen. She did say she believed me when I swore to her that the Iron Tornadoes had nothing to do with his death and that he was not investigating us, but I can still feel the shadow of a doubt lingering. Tony probably keeps it alive.

"What did you do last night?" she asks, breaking the silence.

"Caught up on the paperwork at The Styx and supervised the evening. It was a quiet one."

"That's good, I guess." She twirls her spoon in her coffee.

I gave my mother a watered-down idea of what The Styx is, presenting the sex club as an alternative place to do things that you can't do in your own home for lack of space or privacy. She was puzzled at first, but she got it when I told her about this member who was very vocal during sex and stopped enjoying it when she had to remain silent for fear of waking her kids.

"It makes sense to go to a place where there's a soundproof room that's a club instead of a cheap motel," she admitted then.

I also explained that the club offers some equipment that some members don't have the space for in their own homes. I even made her laugh when I told her about the Tantra chair a friend of mine had purchased and how, after their sons had adopted the very curvaceous chair as their miniature car race track, he and his wife could not make love on it anymore without giggling like idiots.

Talking about sexual activities with my mother was weird, but somehow, I find it healthier than lying to her about what I do.

"How are the newlyweds?" I ask, trying to find a subject that will be easier on her.

"They're good," she says. "I would never say this to Tony, but I think she's a lot happier with Steven than she was with her first husband."

I nod. David and Lisa’s father was Tony’s twin brother. He died a long time ago, and I don’t remember him that well.

"Of course, now they need to adapt to Lisa moving back in, but I understand it's temporary, only until she passes the bar."

"When is Lisa arriving?" I ask.

"She's been here for a few days," my mother says, and instantly, I'm mad. Mad that she's been back and that I haven't seen her. Given where we were when I last rode away from her, I'm not surprised she didn't come to the clubhouse to let me know she was back.

"I think she looks terrible," my mother adds.

"How so?" I avoid her gaze to hide my feelings.

"Sad, broken. It's like something inside her has been shattered again, but she keeps going. She's registered for this bar preparation intensive seminar. Good thing it’s held really close, in the conference center of the Central Hotel. Steven drops her off every morning, and she walks back home. Betty and I offered to drive her back, but she says she needs the fresh air and the exercise."

Good, now I know how I'm going to manage to get some alone time with her.

"Now you, young man, look like you badly need to get some sleep."

"You're right, mom. It's time I head back home."

The very second I call the clubhouse my home, my mother cringes. As far as she's concerned, this house should still be my home. But that's not what her husband thinks anymore. Tony doesn't want me around since I stopped blindly doing what he wanted me to do.

Tony gave me one, and only one, pass. I used it the day David and I ran away to enlist. So when I decided not to become a cop and went to work with the Iron Tornadoes, well with Cracker, I had no passes left. As far as Tony's concerned, joining the club was nothing more than an act of betrayal. He doesn't get that the motorcycle club is a form of brotherhood that works for me and that Everest and Juliya are my blood and my family.

I hug my mother and return to my bike. Instead of getting back to the clubhouse right away as I initially planned, I ride to the Central Hotel and get the schedule of Lisa's classes. It's easy enough to remember: nine to five every single day of the week. I have enough time to go home and grab a few hours of sleep then catch her as she gets out.

***

At five fifteen, Lisa's still not out. I lock the bike and enter the hotel lobby. Walking through the main bar, I see Lisa in a booth with two other girls. Each holds a handful of index cards, and they take turns reading from them, probably prepping for the test. I retreat to a spot by the entrance and settle on a tall chair next to the cute barmaid's working station.

"Hello, Ice," she says, flashing me a pretty smile. "Long time, no see."

I rack my brain, trying to figure out where I know her from. Since she called me Ice, it's gotta be MC related.

"Good to see you, angel," I tell her while flipping through my virtual memory cards. I order a beer, and when she comes back with it, I still have no idea who she is.

"You don't remember me, do you?" she says with a coquettish smile.

I laugh and plead guilty. She tilts her head exaggeratedly and twirls in front of me. She's built like a goddess, and her uniform leaves little to the imagination. When I see it, I realize she's not doing this to show of her scrumptious ass. That's an added benefit. She's showing me the tattoo of a blue bird that would otherwise have remained hidden under her jet-black ponytail.

"Birdy!" I say, giving the girl a new look over. She's one of Brains’s daughters, one from the first litter, as he would say.

"You're looking good, baby." And I mean it. She's wearing way too much makeup for my taste, but otherwise, she looks good enough to eat.

"You're not looking too bad yourself," she tells me.

"Happy to know you're back in town. How long have you been working here?"

"A couple of weeks. I arrived the day you and my dad left to go babysit a rock star," she tells me. "Landed this job on the first day, and it's really a cool place to work."

A customer at the other end of the bar finishes nursing his drink and calls her over. She comes back to me with a flier for a special event organized at the hotel.

"I know I'll see you at the Fourth of July barbecue at the clubhouse." She puts the flier down on the bar in front of me. "But before this, we're having a big event on June fifteenth to celebrate the one-year anniversary of the opening of this place. You should come."

Without waiting for my answer, she strolls away from the bar and through the room, collecting orders. She stops at Lisa's table and takes the girls’ orders before returning to her station.

"Virgin piña colada and diet sodas," she says, wrinkling her nose. "Those ladies are not getting drunk for a few weeks. They're a bunch of would-be lawyers preparing for the bar exam."

"Yeah, I know," I tell her, grinning. "One of them is my girl."

"Really?" she says. "I didn't know you had an old lady already."

"Well, she's not really my old lady yet, but she will be."

"Lucky girl." Birdy winks at me.

I laugh and tell her, "I'm on her shit list right now, so she'll need a little convincing."

"You could start by putting their drink on your tab," Birdy suggests.

"Good thinking. A man should always have a wise woman like you as his strategy advisor," I tell her while she tallies up my bill. I put some cash on the bar and look at the flier.

The picture looks familiar, but I don’t recognize it for a few seconds. It's the picture on David's postcard, and now I remember Cracker's observation about this tower being a sore thumb in the middle of Point Lookout. That was what had been bugging me all along. It was not a spring break picture; it was the huge party the hotel management threw for the opening on June fifteenth last year. That means the postcard was definitely printed after David's death. So, yeah, Everest got it right—David's not dead!

I get up and rush out of the bar. Talking to Lisa can wait. I need to find Everest and figure out where David is hiding. God help me, I want to kill him for putting Lisa and me through this misery for a year.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I drive to the police station and park by my brother's bike, where I wait for him to come out. Ever since he’s been off the task force, he has regular hours. When he does come out at six, he's not really surprised to see me. Every so often, I drop by the station when I need some information I can't get without the help of the force.

"What do you need?" he asks, dispensing with the civilities.

"I need to know how much you trust your captain."

Obviously hesitant about his answer, he leans against the fence and runs a hand in his short hair. "He had a bad rep when he arrived.”

"Bad how?" Bad can mean several things. A corrupt cop is a bad cop, but so is a cop that rats to internal affairs or sleeps with his partner's wife.

"I don't know," he explains. "No one would come out and say anything specific. No one's ever accused him of being on the take or alleged that he was a mole for IA. There was just this rumor that he was not to be trusted." Everest stares at the tip of his boots as if they hold the answers to the mysteries of the world. He closes his eyes and goes on. "At some point, I thought it was just some weird sort of superstition because he lost three partners on the job."

"Wow, three partners!" That would make anyone think twice about going out on the street with him.

"Yes, and all gunned down, too," Everest adds. "At one retirement party, I met an older cop who told me that on two out of the three instances, he was with his partner and was badly shot, as well. But somehow, he managed to survive both times."

Since he still hasn’t answered my question, I ask, "What does your gut tell you?"

"I think he's clean and working with Internal Affairs," Everest spits out. "I think your pal David was working with them, as well, and they faked his death because something went sour in their investigations."

"I think you're right, and I'd like to have a sit-down with your captain outside of the station. You think you can arrange that?"

"He's still in his office. I'll go back in and ask him."

While I wait for Everest to return, I see Mike coming out of the station. I remember him from the police academy. He was friendly enough, but something about him was off. David thought I was paranoid.

"Hey, Brian," he says, walking toward me and extending his hand. "Long time, no see."

"How's life been treating you?" I ask.

"Been doing good," he says. "I've got a desk job, and I'm loving it. Much safer than all the street action. Soon, we'll be just as bad as Miami."

"What do you mean?" Miami seems like a pretty good place to live to me if you're into big city life.