Where The Devil Won't Go: A Lucas Peyroux Novel (15 page)

Dressed in jeans, ratty K-Swiss, and a plain
T-shirt, Cozy zipped through pockets of die-hard tourists under a near full
moon until hitting St. Peter Street. She acquired a Lucky Dog on the corner,
and devoured it while heading toward the river. The Jackson Square psychics and
performers would be setting up for morning in a couple of hours. Stragglers and
other service industry workers meandered in front of the St. Louis Cathedral.
Cozy made it point to avoid cops or look anyone in the eyes.

Once over Decatur, she journeyed around
the side of the vacant stadium steps used for talented public performers and
followed the sidewalk to the pay parking lot. A few feet further brought her to
the decorative sign commemorating the Moon Walk, named for the ex-Mayor Moon
Landrieu.

The Moon Walk was deserted like Vince had
said, not a soul in sight. The Crescent City Connection hung over the
Mississippi with red and white lights flashing between beams. With clenched
fists, she found the steps leading into the murky depths of the Mississippi,
the place where the locals toss the ashes of loved ones at the end of the St.
Anne’s Parade during Mardi
Gras
. Did that make it
ironic or just appropriate that her sister ended up here? The black water moved
with impossible momentum, shimmering and bubbling against the banks, just as
Haley must have.

“Quite a view,” a deep male voice said.

Cozy turned as if a cold beer had been placed
on her back. “Oh, God. Vince. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.” His beefy hands came up in
surrender, however, one held a bottle of Jack Daniels. “Right when you left,
Tabitha let me off, so I lifted this bottle and tried to catch up. I’ll admit I
did follow you for a few minutes ’cause you got one hell of an ass on you.”

She faced the river as Vince warmed to her
side, offering the bottle. His body seemed to take up the entire walkway.
Already in
a fuzz
from the Tequila, she took a stiff
belt from the bottle and handed it back. The pier felt like a cliff, high up
over a gorge and she was just inches from falling. All it would take was a
push… a tap. She wrapped her arms around her body, despite the warm night air.

“Yep, nice view.”

“This is what was so important you had to
do? I don’t get it.” His fingers brushed her hair over her shoulder.

“My Momma took me here when I was a
little girl. I promised myself I’d come back and see it in her memory. After
tonight, I was feeling particularly low and I wanted her with me in spirit. Now
was the time.”

“That’s deep. You know, this is right
where that dancer’s body was found.”

“Oh, yeah?” For the first time, Cozy
thought her voice sounded different… like a woman’s. “What you know about
that?”

He took a pull from the bottle and passed
it on. “I know she must have done something wrong to end up there.”

“Why does it have to be her fault?”

“Oh, no. I just mean being in the wrong
place at the wrong time can be doing the wrong thing. I don’t mean she deserved
it.”

She carefully kept her face neutral. “I
guess.”

“Bodies turn up all the time. It’s so
easy to do… Dump a body in the river.”

“I was told about you and Haley.” She
slipped her hand inside her jeans pocket to feel the end of the switchblade.

“Let’s not talk about her.” Vince put his
arm around her shoulder. His nose inhaled the scent of her hair and he pecked
her cheek.

“Vince. I can’t.”

He turned Cozy to face him. “This is a
romantic place, isn’t it?”

“At the right time… With the right
person.”

“What?
Something wrong
with me?
C’mon, you’re a stripper.”

“So, that makes me easy?”

“Easier, maybe.” He winked, showing his
dimples.

“Funny, asshole.”

Vince stared at her with the same dead
eyes see had seen on Tray the day she confronted him about the rape; the same
eyes of her father as he stumbled through the house looking for Haley. She
imagined jumping into the water, letting the current take her away without a
fight.
That, or bashing the bottle over his head.

She pushed his arms away from her body.
“Vince, I just swallowed and threw up the load of our special VIP and then
replenished with Tequila and a Lucky Dog. You don’t want to kiss me and I don’t
want to kiss you. At least not right now.”

“When you put it that way.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder,
taking control. “Look, let’s go sit on that bench over there and talk and drink
a bit.”

Vince lit up. “Talk? What a novel idea.”

They sat about a foot apart, each taking
a swallow from the bottle. Despite this adventure, as Tabitha put it, she
wouldn’t be around long enough for Vince to become abusive. He had that cat and
the canary stare. If his forehead was a movie screen, it would be playing the
two of them having sex. He took large drinks, completing each with some Italian
phrase -
Il buon volte roll
- and a
smile.

Cozy copied him, phonetically repeating
his phrase. “What does that mean?”

“Let the good times roll.”

“Ah, the Italian version. That’s cool.”

“I forgot how nice it is out here.”

She decided to push a little bit, see
what reaction she could get. “It’s kind of creepy to know that girl was right
over there… Having worked at the same place as us.”

Vince played with the cap on the bottle,
screwing it on and off. “Yeah. Nobody wants to talk about it at the club. Like
it’s a jinx or something.”

“Have the police been around asking
questions? I’m not exactly good with them.”

“No. Haley was what you might call an
independent.”

“So, there are no records of her
working?”

“Ray told us not to lie about it if asked,
but not to volunteer anything, either.”

“Tabitha said you dated her.”

“Yeah, but we broke up like a year ago.
When Ray started having her do the private parties, he didn’t want her with me
and I understand that. It’s a business. Oops. Just burped up Jack. I think we
need another bottle.”

“Private parties?”

“Yeah, big parties with political types.
Just an excuse to have sex.” Vince inspected the remaining inch of whiskey in
the moonlight. “What kind of trouble you in with the cops?”

“Petty shit. I’m sure I’m on surveillance
shoplifting and stuff like that. I’m broke. The cops chased me down Pirate’s
Alley after I stole a beignet off a woman’s plate.”

“That’s hysterical. You probably gave
that woman a story to tell for the rest of her life. If you’re worried about
cops, you should be aware that some come into Molly’s when they’re off- duty.”

“I’m more or less in disguise at that
point.”

“True, dat.”

“So, how do I get Ray to invite me to
these parties? I need the cash.”

“You blow me first, then I recommend you
to Ray.” His cheeks inflated with a grin.

“Right. I was warned about you.”

He laughed. “I figured. But, I guess you
like to live dangerously.”

“Up to a point, Vince. Up to a point.”
Cozy started to feel warm, but still in control. She waited until he spoke
again.

“Tabby’s protective of her girls. What’d
she tell you about me?”

“Something about you making one quit.”

“Ms. Wheelhouse has a way with words, but
it’s not always the truth. Sometimes that shit is two-sided.
It
takes two to tango
,
you get me
? That dead Cajun
chick…” He pointed at the river. “…She liked to argue and knew how to push my
buttons.”

“She asked for it, is that what you’re
saying?” Cozy jerked away involuntarily. She didn’t want to give too much away,
but at the same time she could feel her face blanching as the blood drained
away in horror. Could he have done it? Could it be that simple?

“No.” Vince let out a defeated breath.
“Did I set out to hit her? Was it premeditated? No, of course not, but in the
heat of it…” He clenched his fists up near his chest like he was belting out a
song. “…In the moment, when words are flying back and forth… Hurtful words… It
happened. That bitch said some things she shouldn’t have.”

She recovered quickly, shrugging and
looking into the black water. “Like some bitches do.”

“You get it.” He slurred a bit. “I did
like her, though. But, she could be mean, too. That is the honest truth.”

“We are who we are, right?” Cozy asked.

“Right. And we all regret something.”

“What do you regret, Vince?”

“Things.” His head dipped.

Cozy thought he was right at the
drunk-honesty threshold. “Are you sorry you hit women?”

“Not women… wo-man.
Just
the one.
Because she had a mouth.
And yes, I’m
sorry she made me hit her.”

Bastard
. “Did you kill that girl?” Her voice
stayed light, teasing.

“Like I’d tell you if I did. Am I sitting
on the magical confession bench here?” A moment passed and then he laughed,
building to a cackle. “No, I didn’t. Fuck, no. I can tell you some things,
though. I can tell you just what she was into.”

“I wish you would, because you’re two for
two with scaring the shit out of me.”

“Get real, Keri. We don’t work in
no
office with cubicles, making investments and crunching
numbers before going home to a family and two-car garage. We’re types.”

“Types? Like I’m a slut and you’re a
bad-ass?”

“We’re not nuns and priests.” He cackled.

Cozy closed her eyes instead of joining
Vince in his laughter. Vince could have killed Haley, but her instincts said
not. Still, he had information she needed. For a flash of a moment she
envisioned stabbing and pushing him in the river, but instead she quickly stood
up. “Listen, I got in with an old guy for a place to stay because I had no
other choice. Now, I can get a hotel room until I make rent money. You want to
walk with me to get my shit?”

“As long as I don’t have to walk a
straight line, I’m with you. And you don’t need
no
hotel. You can stay at my place.”

“Bad idea, Vince.”

“Sleep on my sofa.” He belched and blew
it out. “Crappity-crap-crap. That Jack just hit me.”

“And the next thing you know, I’ll have a
black eye.”

Vince spun to face away from her. He head
dipped below his shoulders. “Fuck.”

“What, Vince?” Cozy circled to face him
again.

His cheeks were wet. “I can’t believe I
hit her.” He wiped his eyes. “I hit a woman. My mom would disown me.”

Cozy took him by the wrist and led him
across a set of old streetcar tracks and back onto Decatur. He didn’t know how
close he’d come to floating in the same spot as Haley.

#

The couple entered Sal’s dark, stale
apartment in silence. Voices moved in a low bubble, but Cozy realized from the
vibrating glow that it was the television. Sal didn’t percolate, so he must
have been in the middle of his two hours of sleep.

She was careful not to bump anything as
she collected her possessions. Not a significant sound was made, but Sal’s
radar was on. He stirred.

“That you, Cozy?”

“
Cozy
?”
Vince asked, “Where do I know that name?”

Shit,
another stupid mistake
.
“I gave him a fake name. Just go with it.”

“I swear I’ve heard that name before. Wait
a friggin’ second. Haley’s
sister
was
named Cozy!” Vince grabbed her by both arms, almost pulling her off the floor.
Her biceps screamed with pain.

Her knee shot into his groin. “Let me go.”

“I’m getting my gun, you bastard.” Sal’s
body shook with urgency.

Vince pushed Cozy down. She landed on her
knees on the floor while Vince checked to see what Sal was doing. “I came with the
lying bitch, old man. I didn’t force my way in.”

“Get the fuck out of my house.” Sal pointed
a shaky gun at him. “I used to be a cop.”

Vince laughed as he rushed Sal, knocking
him to the ground. He slurred while sweeping his foot across the old man’s
butt. “Don’t ever point a gun at me.”

“Cozy, what’s going on?” Sal questioned.

“What’r you doing with her, old man?”
Vince knelt down and grabbed the collar of the pajamas. His fist reared back,
but paused when Sal raised the gun to Vince’s nose and pulled the trigger.

Vince’s head exploded and his limbs went
stiff as he fell sideways off of Sal. She expected some kind of animated recoil
from Sal, but like Vince, he wasn’t moving. With a gasp as if she had come back
to life, she jumped to Sal’s side, but his mouth was open and his eyes were
glassy. Did he have a heart attack or an aneurism? A stroke? She knew those
blue pills fucked with blood pressure.