Memory Lapse: A Slater Vance Novel (20 page)

“Okay, I can do that,”
she paused, took a sip, and added softly, “thanks, Slate.”

He just smiled and leaned
his head back on the cushions and closed his eyes, “Don’t thank me yet… you’re
washing all the dishes.”

Janet mimicked his
actions, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes also. “Deal,” she grinned.

“And just so you know, no
matter what your name turns out to be, you’ll always be Honey Luscious to me,”
Slater smirked.

“I’ll honey your
luscious,” she scoffed, still with her head leaned back and eyes closed.

“That’d be the payment
I’d prefer,” he grinned.

Without raising her head
or opening her eyes, she swatted him.

Chapter 13

Slater woke in his bed to
the ringing of his cell phone. He really needed to upload
Highway to Hell
for his new phone’s ringtone. Its current
monotonous sound was annoying. He answered after checking the caller’s
identity.

“Hey, Tuck, how’s it
hanging?” he asked, running a hand over his face.

“Sorry to call so early,
but I have meetings all day with the Bishop and wanted to check on Janet… but I
guess that’s not really her name either, right?”

“No, I don’t think so.
She seemed better last night. I talked to her for a little bit before bed. I
think she was going to look for a job today.”

“Do you think that she’s
ready?” Tuck asked.

“Tuck, I don’t know, but
I think she’ll go crazy without something to do.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re
right. I’ll see if I can help her find something…” there was a hesitation, and
then Tucker said, “I got a call first thing this morning from a Ms. Celia
McCloud.”

Groaning, Slater ran his
hand through his hair. “Oh yeah, what did she want?”

“She… uh… wanted to come
in for some counseling. I found this a little surprising considering she isn’t
a member of my parish and she isn’t Catholic. I have a meeting set up with for
the day after tomorrow. She was very… distraught. I’m not sure what I’m
supposed to do here, Slate. Can you tell me?”

With a muttered curse,
Slater said, “Let me talk to her first, okay? If she still needs to meet with
you, I’ll have her call, okay?”

“Slate, I’m not
cancelling my appointment, but if you do talk with her, please remember this is
a human being with feelings. She’s a young girl, be gentle with her, okay?”

“Dammit, Tuck, I was
gentle. I was nice. I was upfront as I always am with what I’m about. I told
Celia her expectations were unrealistic. But being nice has not gotten through
to her. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t take your advice this time.”

Calm and gentle, Tucker
replied softly, “Slate, of the two of you, you are the one who is unrealistic.
How do you expect a girl, especially one of her age, to not fall for you? So,
please, I beg you… be gentle and mindful of the long-term effects of your
words. Words aren’t like vapors in the wind that gently disappear and are no
more; they’re more like scars, they might hurt less over time, but you always
carry the memory of them.”

Slater once again ran his
hand through his hair before begrudgingly saying through clenched teeth,
“Fine.”

Slater had just walked
out of the shower when his cell phone rang again. Wrapping a towel around his
waist, he checked the screen and saw it was Bridge.

“Hey, Bridge, what’s up?”

“Rise
and shine, Pretty-Boy.
Please tell me you’re still in bed and that you’re with – say, maybe
two
busty women… let me see…
ummm
, a nice redhead and a freak with short, spiky hair. I
need to live my life vicariously through yours,” he said with a grin in his
voice.

“Sorry, I’m up, dressed,
and done fed all the farm animals,” Slater replied sarcastically.

“Well hell. No rest for
the weary. Hey, I got something for you. But I really need to meet you face to
face, can we meet somewhere… you know… away?”

“Umm,
sure.
Where and
when?”

“
Loofus
Deli on Twenty-Ninth at ten?”
Bridge asked.

“Sounds good, I’ll meet
you there.”

Slater dressed in his
customary black polo and khakis, being sure to wrap his ribs today. With the
way his luck was progressing, he wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t involved in
a rumble with the local gangs before the day was through.
 

Stepping into the
kitchen, he was met with the aromatic smell of coffee in the air.
Man, he could certainly get used to this
,
he thought. Taking a tentative sip, he closed his eyes and smiled, yep,
he could certainly get used to this
.

◊◊◊

By eight o’clock, Slater
was sitting in front of the First National Bank of Charleston. His current
client, Nash Burkes, Vice President of the bank, suspected two of his tellers
of conspiring with an ex-con to rob the bank. Burkes wanted to prove his case
to the officers of the bank for two reasons: one – obviously he wanted to stop
the bank from being robbed; and two, most important in his eyes (or so Slater
thought) – to show he was more valuable and in tune to the workings of the bank
than the current bank’s president.

Surveillance was boring
and tedious. As the bulk of Slater’s work involved surveillance, he’d learned
ways to alleviate it. Usually he listened to book tapes or music; but because
of his time in Special Ops, he was comfortable sitting still for long stretches
of time. He’d learned to blank his mind to his own discomfort. He sat for
nearly an hour when teller number one, Noah
Stephano
,
exited the bank. Slater glanced at his watch - nine o’clock. Slater lifted his
camera and snapped several photos of Noah
Stephano
.
Noah was a tall white man, with close-cropped brown hair. He was thin and
sported what Slater thought of as a seventies porn-star mustache.

Slater watched him walk
to the corner and stand through two light changes while continually checking
his watch. Finally Noah
Stephano
glanced around and
crossed the street, entering into an enclosed alleyway which led to several
enclosed storefronts. Well, if you wanted to meet someone inconspicuously, this
is how you’d do it.

Slater started to follow
Noah; however, at the last minute stayed put. Once again his instincts didn’t
fail him. Fifteen minutes after Noah exited the bank, teller number two,
Tangra
Lamont, exited the bank.
Tangra
Lamont was a beautiful Latino woman with the dark hair and, he assumed, dark
eyes to match. She was curvy in the way Latino woman usually were. Slater
clicked several shots of her before notating the time in his logbook. As with
Noah, she carefully searched the surrounding area before crossing the street
and entering the alleyway.

Casually and cautiously,
Slater slipped out of his car, grabbed his raincoat to slip over his camera,
and followed the two tellers. While he’d lost sight of Noah
Stephano
,
Slater had a clear line to
Tangra
Lamont. Seemingly
casual, she idly strolled by storefronts, stopping to look at one thing or the
other. Slater watched her check her watch several times and finally begin to
head for a specific location. Just as casual as
Tangra
,
Slater moved in the same direction and followed her. Keeping a respectable
distance, Slater entered into a Mexican restaurant and sat at the first table
closest to the door. He saw Noah
Stephano
sitting at
the corner of the bar, drinking what he assumed was a cup of coffee. He watched
Tangra
Lamont sit at the bar but not together with
Noah, but a little further down. Slater carefully lifted his camera and snapped
a few pictures. The waiter came to him and Slater ordered a cup of coffee to
go. Within five minutes, a man in a green army jacket entered the restaurant
and idly strolled to the bar and sat in between the two tellers. Carefully
again, Slater snapped more pictures. He continued to click away, getting
different angles of the man. Later he’d show them to Bridge and see if it was
anyone he recognized.

Slater stayed until the
first one, and then the other left the restaurant, before leaving himself.
 
Getting back to his car, Slater made notes in
his log and headed for his appointment with Bridge.

Slater arrived at
Loofus
Deli ten minutes late. He found Bridge digging into
a bear claw and if he had to guess from experience, a large glass of iced Diet
Coke. He grinned at Slater when he spotted him walking into the deli. Slater
waved the waitress away before sliding into the booth across from Bridge.

“Dude, you’re
gonna
give yourself a heart attack,” Slater said with a
shake of his head.

In between bites, Bridge
grinned and said, “
Naw
, man. I got all these clean
thoughts which is
gonna
keep me healthy.”

“Remind me again about
the redhead and the freak with spiked hair?” Slater said.

Bridge barked out a
laugh. “Alright, man, I’m
gonna
take up exercise…
tomorrow.”

Leaning back against the
bench, Slater pulled a napkin from the holder and wiped at imaginary spots on
the table’s surface. “So, Bridge, what do you have that we can’t discuss in the
confines of your inner-sanctum?”

First licking the fingers
of one hand and then grabbing a napkin, Bridge wiped his fingers of the sticky
icing from the bear claw before reaching into his inside coat pocket and
retrieving a folded piece of paper. He set the still-folded paper down on the
table in front of himself.

Slater glanced at it
before looking back up at Bridge.

Bridge took a deep breath
and held Slater’s eye for a long moment. “Pretty-Boy, we go way back and have
been through a lot together. I have something I want to give you, but before I
do, I want your assurance you won’t do anything stupid. What I have is for… let’s
say – research purposes only.”

Slater eyed Bridge
curiously. “What?”

Bridge pushed the folded
paper towards him. As Slater reached for it, Bridge placed his brown hand over
the top of Slater’s. “Remember, this is for research purposes only.”

Slowly Slater nodded, and
just as slowly, Bridge lifted his hand away. Keeping his eyes on Bridge’s, he
slid the paper closer and unfolded it. He glanced down and saw a name scrawled
on it:
Nevin
Justaine
.

Curiously, Slater raised
his eyes back to Bridge. “I don’t understand what this means…”

Pointing a meaty finger
at the paper, Bridge said, “That dude is the one who’s blood Bennie brought to
me, the guy you winged.”

Leaning back again, this
time heavily, Slater exhaled. “Any idea
who
he is or
is affiliated with?”

“The only thing I can
tell you is he was a Navy SEAL and then worked on special assignment to the
White House. Past that, the records are sealed. But I can’t say this enough:
Find out what you can,
then
let me know. Do not… I mean
it – do not take matters into your own hands. You
understand,
compadre
?”

Looking back down at the
creased paper once more, but lacking the same conviction, Slater slowly nodded
his head.

Driving back to the bank
to continue his surveillance, Slater rolled the name over and over in his mind,
Nevin
Justaine
. Who
was he? What did he want? Being an ex-SEAL, Slater knew he was a hired gun for
someone. The question wasn’t really who
he
was, but
who
he was working for. The
man had trashed his office twice, his home once, and attacked Janet. Was this
related to Wiseman Linear? Was he behind it? Slowly, Slater shook his head to
himself. No, if Wiseman was behind it, why would he contact him?

Slater went back to the
bank and again parked across the street to continue his surveillance. He
snapped pictures of everyone entering and exiting the bank until
eleven-forty-five. He easily maneuvered the rental car around to head for the
Oak Grove Mall for his meeting with Wiseman Linear.

After he’d parked, Slater
moved to the entrance doors to the food court and paused, taking a deep breath.
Okay, let’s do this
, he thought.
Wiseman Linear represented everything Slater detested and spent the bulk of his
life fighting against… injustice.

Slater stood just inside
the glass doors of the food court and moved his eyes skillfully around the area
but saw no one out of place. He saw Wiseman
Linear’s
stark white-haired head sitting in the middle of the circle of restaurants,
drinking from a Styrofoam cup through a straw. Ever diligent with caution,
Slater moved to sit across from him.

“Linear,” Slater said
tersely.

Wiseman Linear lifted his
startling blue eyes up to Slater. “Well, well, if it isn’t the above- reproach
Slater Vance.”