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Bones of the Lost(94)

By:Kathy Reichs


“Don’t go.” I may have spoken the words, may only have thought them.

Ryan strode down the walk and rounded the corner. A car door slammed. An engine kicked to life.

I shut and bolted the door. Leaned against it, struggling to process. He hadn’t asked about Katy. About my travels. I’d been to a war and he didn’t give a damn.

In his time of suffering, Ryan had shut me out. The rejection felt like a knife to my heart.

Seriously? The man’s daughter is dead and you’re miffed he didn’t call or query your recent concerns? Have you become that self-centered?

I pushed from the door, ashamed of my pettiness. I had one foot on the stairs when the phone rang.

Excited, I snatched up the handset.

It wasn’t Ryan.

“Yo, doc.”

“What is it, detective?”

“That sounds as enthused as a dead trout.”

“Why are you phoning?”

“Got a shocker for you.”

It was.





“REMEMBER ARCHER STORY?”

“The younger brother of John-Henry, the man who died in the flea market fire.” Maybe. “What about him?”

“Archer and John-Henry were partners in S&S Enterprises.”

“Right.” Drawn out and ending high. A question. I had no idea where this was going.

“S&S. Story and Story. They owned John-Henry’s Tavern, a string of convenience stores, a whack of storage centers, and a bunch of other shit. Nice little money machine. But they were tanking on other investments.”

“The Saturn dealerships and the pizzerias.”

“You got it. But the bros weren’t exactly circling the drain. They’d diversified. And buried their investments in layers and layers of umbrella LPs and LLPs and other legal bullshit.”

“What does this have to do with Candy and Rosalie?” Ryan’s visit had left me drained. I wanted to curl up and sleep until the pain receded.

No. What I wanted was a drink. Cabernet or pinot noir until euphoria, then oblivion. But I knew how a binge would end. Knew the self-loathing that would follow. I’d been down that road. Wouldn’t travel it again.

“Will you let me finish?” Slidell snapped.

My sigh conveyed impatience equal to his.

“Turns out one of these little shelters is SayDo.”

That got my attention. “The Passion Fruit Club.”

“The Passion Fruit and four other massage joints. Names are real magic. I’ll spare you.”

“Holy shit.” Facts were winging. John-Henry Story. The US Airways club card in Candy’s purse. The Passion Fruit.

“Yeah. Holy shit.”

“How did we miss that?”

“It took time to untangle the mess. The guy I had working it got diverted to another case. And I got sidelined with the damn MP.”

“Now what?”

“Now I figure out how to get to Archer Story.”

“Just bring him in.”

“I do that, he’ll lawyer up tighter than a frog’s nuts.”

I ignored the metaphor. “You can’t even question him?”

“Based on what? He owns skin joints and we think maybe the personnel director offed one of the hookers?”

“What about a nasty habit called human trafficking?” I felt like screaming.

“The raid turned up dick.”

“Of course it did. Someone tipped Tarzec, so she moved the girls and sanitized the place.”

Silence.

“Will you at least check out the other massage parlors?”

“I got nothing to get a warrant. And, needless to say, my credibility took a nosedive after the fiasco at the Passion Fruit.”

“Jesus, Slidell. These people killed Candy. And D’Ostillo. They’ll kill again if they feel threatened. These girls mean nothing to them.”

Slidell was silent a moment.

“There’s a SayDo joint up in NoDa. I’ll swing by tonight. Unofficial like.”

“Keep me looped in.”

“If it makes you any happier, I dropped in on Rockett for a little more face time.”

Slidell didn’t seize the opportunity for humor on that. Good sign.

“And?”

“He told me I could suck his dick.”

When we’d disconnected, I went upstairs for a long, hot bath. And realized I still hadn’t seen Birdie. I’d been distracted by Slidell’s call. Then Ryan showed up. Then Slidell phoned again.

Had the scamp slipped through the open door while Ryan and I were on the sidewalk? Stupid not closing it. He loves to sneak out, I suspect mainly to get my attention. I always find him in the shrubbery, within inches of the foundation.

Cursing, I trudged back downstairs and out the front door. Called his name. No cat.

I circled the building, my annoyance increasing each time my summoning went unanswered. Eventually, I expanded my search onto the grounds.