A Marked Man (6 page)

Max had seen that Vivian was very pregnant but knew nothing of her history. He would try to find an opportunity to reassure her. He and Spike needed to get rid of Wazoo. With one forefinger, he attempted to rub between the cat’s ears. That got him a view of a mouthful of tiny pointed teeth together with a hiss too big for the cat. He drew his hand back.

“Don’t you take Irene’s hiss serious,” Wazoo said. “I gotta talk Annie into some therapy for this one. She’s sufferin’. She tol’ me she thinks she gonna be pushed out of her mama’s lap—and bed—by some man.”

There were moments when cool disinterest was the best reaction.

Max hooked an elbow over the back of his chair and raised his jaw. He looked detached, he was sure he did.

“Wazoo,” Spike said after a slightly lengthy pause. “Thanks for the good words. Forgive us but this is a business meeting for Max and me.”

Smiling, she popped up. “You know where to find me.”

“You know Annie Duhon?” Spike asked when he and Max were alone, drumming his fingertips on the table. “Yeah, you do.”

Shit.
“I know who she is,” Max said. “She runs Pappy’s.”

“Sure she does. How come you look so guilty?”

“You’re off base,” Max told him evenly. Lying didn’t amuse him but he didn’t want Annie’s name linked to his.

“If you say so,” Spike said quietly. “I wish we knew where to find Michele Riley. I’d settle for any clue, any idea. So far we’ve got a search for a missing person, and I kept it in this jurisdiction, used my people. But I can’t cover for this any longer.”

Max looked at him sharply. “I didn’t ask you to cover for anything.”

“No, you didn’t. By tomorrow we’ll be knee-deep in folks asking questions. Is there anythin’ you’d like to share with me? Any incidents from the past?”

The man only asked the question to be polite. Max could tell he’d done some homework. It wasn’t so hard to get at the record of Max Savage’s career with the law. And innocent verdicts bore less weight if the same types of crimes followed you around.

“Have you searched the Majestic for leads?”

Spike took several spoonfuls of his gumbo before he responded. “There are prints on her own possessions—all the same. So what? They’re probably hers. She couldn’t use ’em without touching ’em. We didn’t find any sign of a struggle or that her things had been messed with.” He played with his coffee spoon, tapped it against his mug. “Same prints were on the front door and the handle. Both areas had been cleaned.”

“When?” Max asked, shifting forward on his chair. “When did they clean the door?”

“Last night. Doll said she likes to brighten up the entrance and the reception area right before she goes to bed, just in case there’s a real late arrival. The Hibbses turn in around eleven.”

“Before I dropped Michele off,” Max said, almost under his breath. “So if someone who didn’t normally go there had got in that way before eleven and waited for her, those prints would be gone.” A defeated feeling came and went, almost quickly enough. He had felt a setup closing in on him, but he couldn’t allow himself to go there, not unless he eventually had to.

“You’ve got that right. Gator’s were on the inside from openin’ up this mornin’. That’s all. He propped the door open.”

A car approached, passed the triangular section of grass, trees and grimy plastic holiday statues in the center of broad Main Street. The car, a red Volvo, swung to a stop behind Spike’s cruiser. Max deliberately turned his face from the window.

“Max?” Spike raised his eyebrows and pushed his fingers through his hair. “Want to share anythin’?”

“Why didn’t we do this at the department?”

“I told you, informal appeals to me, particularly when I have pretty much nothing to go on. I thought we’d be more relaxed here.”

Max didn’t feel relaxed. Anything he said had a chance of being overheard. “You’ve been checking me out, haven’t you?” He heard a car door slam. Annie, her hands crammed with bag handles, came toward Hungry Eyes.

“Yes.” Spike’s blue eyes stared steadily into Max’s. “You understand why I’m real worried here? Either you’re a serial killer, or you’ve made a serial killer real mad.”

He wasn’t being funny.

Max had never felt more serious.

“We have to find Michele,” he said, the start of panic curling in his belly. He looked directly into Spike’s eyes. “This hell has been going on since I was in college. I don’t want the folks around here to find out about the accusations that were made against me. One of the reasons I decided to stay here was because after months, no one had ever mentioned my history. And they would have if they’d known about it. Michele comes first, of course, but I have to stick here, Spike. If I run again, I’m…Hell, I’m scared sick someone else will die. I’m scared Michele’s already dead.”

“Uh-huh,” Spike said. “Can’t blame you for that.”

“You think the same thing, don’t you?” Max said.

Spike pursed his mouth a moment then said, “I’m not into guessing. Until we’ve got a body, dead or alive, I won’t be givin’ a definite opinion. The longer the woman’s missing, the worse our chances of finding her get.”

Suddenly he was convinced of what he must do about Annie. He had to see her and make sure she was okay, then he would find a way to tell her both how he felt about her, and why he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“Michele wasn’t on her plane today—not that I thought she would be,” Spike said.

“Damn. I didn’t expect her to be either, but I hoped.” He felt as if he’d been kicked, again.

“She had a purse with her when you picked her up?” Spike asked.

Max pinched the bridge of his nose. “She must have. She did. Kelly and Roche were there. They’ll back me up.” He thought about the four of them sitting around a table in the glass-walled restaurant at Rosebank. Michele laughed a lot and looked pretty when she did.

He didn’t see Annie come into the shop, but he knew she had.

“You picked her up, spent the afternoon with her and your brothers and took her to dinner, where?”

Max wanted to turn and look at Annie. He listened for her voice and heard her respond to Wazoo’s enthusiastic greeting. She sounded cheerful, too cheerful.

“We had dinner in the restaurant at Rosebank,” Max told Spike. “They do a great job there.”

Spike was too focused to acknowledge the weak joke. “When did you first know Michele was missing?”

“At Pappy’s, yesterday lunchtime. Gator and Doll Hibbs came by and told me.”

Spike stared at him for a long time. “From what was said by the people in New York, they knew she was coming here. I’ve waited as long as I can to call them and confirm she’s missing.”

Max buried his face in his hands. “When you do, it’ll be all over,” he said. The people Michele knew, knew Max, had known him a long time. They were only human and they were bound to get scared for Michele.

“I kinda thought you’d say that,” Spike said. He extended a hand, palm up. “My time has run out. Can you give me anythin’, Max? Anythin’ at all? My gut tells me an intelligent guy like you isn’t goin’ to risk everythin’ by…I don’t think you’re a killer but I don’t have a whole lot of choice but to proceed as if you might be.”

“And do what?” Max pushed aside his coffee. “Arrest me?”

“Keep it down,” Spike said. “I’m not goin’ to arrest you. I can’t. You’re an innocent man, remember. I can’t hold past criminal investigations against you. But give me a way to tie you to foul play here and you’re in the slammer.”

Max felt sweat along his hairline. “What are you trying to get out of me? I didn’t do anything to Michele. And I want her found, dammit. D’you understand me?”

“You’re not in a position to play it heavy with me,” Spike said.

“Why not?” Max curled his lip in a sneer. “I’m an innocent man, remember.”

“I came here for one reason,” Spike said, any trace of humor long gone. “You’re the only suspect I’ve got. Thought I ought to tell you that.”

Max swallowed and it hurt. “You haven’t started to look.”

“Sure, I have. And those telephone numbers are bein’ followed up on right now. Why don’t you cut the crap and save us both a lot of time. Where is she?”

A steady drumming pain set up in Max’s temples. The horror had started all over again. “I don’t know. She’s a friend of mine and I like her. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. I want to help with the search. My brothers have already asked why we haven’t been called out.”

“I don’t think it would be a good idea, that’s why. You wouldn’t be the first murderer to help look for the victim. You think we’re hicks here, don’t you? That’s why you never thought I’d get around to looking at you.”

Max rubbed his palms together. “I’ve got enemies, I tell you. Enemies who want to ruin me. And they don’t care what they do to people along the way.”

“So you say,” Spike said. “We’re takin’ the area apart. And we expect to find a
dead
body.”

S
pike stood up and threw down some bills. He nodded at Max, stepped away from the table and stopped. “Hey, Homer,” he said, but he frowned at his father. “Didn’t see you come in. What’s up?”

The drone of his heart and the pulse in his ears flattened sounds and movement around Max. He glanced up at Homer Devol and was grateful the older man didn’t look in his direction.

Rolling the brim of his straw Stetson in gnarled hands, Homer stared at his son. “We gotta talk,” he said. “No use puttin’ it off any longer.”

Max had learned the hard way that people didn’t seem to bother much about privacy around here. Homer looked about ready to spill his guts and whatever he had to say might not be pleasant.

The tables had cleared out, all but for the man on his own sitting near the counter. He continued to read his newspaper.

“You gotta be wonderin’,” Homer said to Spike.

“I am now. Let’s go outside.”

“Here’s good enough. I want what I’m going to say to get around this town fast. I’m sick of havin’ folks snicker about me behind my back.”

Max could see Spike in Homer. Also tall but thinner and sinuous, his face seamed with deep lines, Homer would be counted as a nice-looking man who obviously hadn’t led a soft life. Crew-cut gray hair stood up thick and helped make Homer seem more vigorous than he should.

At the counter, Annie held the cat. The animal closed her eyes tightly, suggesting she was in bliss. There was a rigid set to Annie’s back. Max figured she could hear the Devol men argue and wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Homer, please—”

“Stand there and take what I’ve got to say like a man,” Homer snapped back at Spike. “Ain’t you noticed nuthin’ lately?”

Spike caught Max’s eye and reddened. “No, I can’t say as I have,” he said. “I’ll be out to the store to see you later on.”

The store was the convenience store and gas station Homer ran on the outskirts of Toussaint. On a deep lot that reached Bayou Teche, the business also made good money renting out boats and selling bait.

“I don’t plan on being there later,” Homer said. “I don’t know where I’ll be later. Are you tellin’ me you ain’t noticed I’ve been scarce around Rosebank lately?”

Color rose higher in Spike’s face. “No, I haven’t noticed that. Why would you be staying away?”

“On account of my skin ain’t as thick as yours.”

Max didn’t like seeing Spike’s embarrassment.

“I’m not standin’ by while folks say I’m a kept man,” Homer continued. “You’re fine with it. Maybe you don’t care, or maybe you don’t hear, but that’s what some say about you, too. You’re a man who lives on his wife’s money. And Charlotte’s her mother so if you can’t see where I’m comin’ from, work it out.” Homer and Charlotte were engaged. Even Max knew the story about the two being soul mates.

“Think what you’re saying,” Spike said. “I didn’t marry Vivian on account of her havin’ a hotel, or comin’ into a lot of money. When we met she was strugglin’. We’re together because we love each other. Now leave it.”

“I gotta speak my mind. It’s time you had your eyes opened.”

“Homer—”

Homer cut Spike off. “Let me have my say. I do fine for myself. I don’t need no woman’s money and if that means I gotta stay away from Charlotte Patin if I want to feel like a man, then I’ll stay away. For her sake as well as mine.”

At the counter, Annie rested her elbows and put her face in her hands. Irene inched around until she made a striped fur collar for her boss’s white blouse. Wazoo stared hard at Homer.

Escape was on Max’s mind, but he’d stay put until Annie went upstairs. He wanted to make some calls of his own to some of the people who were being contacted by the sheriff’s department. They didn’t have his number, not that he thought too many of them would try to make contact. They would be too frightened for Michele. And there were bound to be those who wondered if Max Savage was a killer who duped them into believing in him.

Spike and Homer stood silent, inches apart, looking hard at each other. “You finished?” Spike said finally. “I say you are anyway. And you’re full of bull. Vivian and I don’t need your interference, especially not now. Not ever. Do you remember Wendy? She’s the granddaughter you supposedly love and she’s happier than she’s ever been. Don’t mess with that. And if you do something stupid about Charlotte, you’ll answer to me. Now I’m out of here.”

The son strode outside, throwing the door open as he went and letting it slam shut.

The father stared after Spike for a moment, chomping down on a wad of gum with his back teeth. He took off, repeating the door-slamming performance, and Max avoided turning to see the men through the window.

Within seconds, several women—evidently the book group—filed quietly from between the stacks and left in a shuffling bunch. Once the door closed again Max heard them burst into conversation. Homer would get his wish. His argument with Spike would be all over town by morning.

Wazoo leaned toward Annie and spoke quietly to her. Annie nodded, then she stooped to gather the canvas bags she’d set at her feet and moved in the direction of the door at the back of the café.

“Annie Duhon,” the man on his own said, folding his newspaper. “Didn’t take me so long to find you this time. You’ve got to stop running away from me.”

She stopped, just stopped. She didn’t even start to turn toward him.

“You afraid of me, Annie? You afraid of a good old friend? Or are you too important to talk to me anymore?”

Max noted how she straightened her back—or stiffened it. The bags must be heavy, they dragged on her arms. “Hi, Bobby,” she said, and looked at him.

She is afraid of him.
Well, damn, Max didn’t know a whole lot about Annie before she settled in Toussaint but she had seemed open, if quiet, and sure of herself—until today. From what he could see,
Bobby
didn’t seem fearsome at all. Clean-cut with short sandy curls, the man’s dark brown eyes smiled at Annie, did more than smile, they invited. A fit guy with a good body.

The emotion Max felt wasn’t so familiar but he recognized a flash of possessiveness.

“Nice cat,” the stranger said. “I’m gonna have another cup of coffee. How ’bout you join me? We got a lot of catching up to do.”

Annie swivelled to see the whole café—and Max. Her mouth tightened when their eyes met. She looked from Bobby—whoever he might be—to Max and what he saw was a woman who felt trapped.

Max grinned and got a slight smile in return.

“Maybe this isn’t a good time,” Bobby said. “I can come back.”

“Leave me a number,” Annie said. “I’ll give you a call sometime.”

“Annie, I wouldn’t do a thing to interfere with your new life. I want to talk about old times, is all. Reminisce. We had good times together.” A lopsided smile was a combination of boyish charm and hinted-at intimacy that didn’t make Max feel any better.

“We were kids,” Annie said. Bobby’s familiarity speeded up her pulse. “And I haven’t avoided you. Our paths haven’t crossed and there was no reason to think about you.”

“You know how to make a man feel small,” Bobby said.

“You’re responsible for your own feelings,” Annie told him. “I’m not into hanging out in the past. I’ve got things to do. A lot of paperwork.” She lifted her heavy bags a fraction.

“Not good enough,” Bobby said, and Annie glanced nervously at Max. Why did this have to happen in front of him? Bobby continued, “The last time I saw you, before this mornin’, we weren’t kids anymore. I’ll never be able to explain how I felt that night. I—”

“Thanks for being there when I needed you,” Annie said, praying she never had to see him again. Why had he decided to follow her around after so many years? She set the bags down, unwound Irene from her neck and handed the cat to Wazoo. “I almost forgot somethin’. Be back in half an hour or so.” Max, sitting there listening to Bobby say things that could only raise curiosity, destroyed any shred of peace she had managed to restore while she was at work that afternoon.

“How was your day—the rest of your day?” Max asked.

This impossible encounter was a nightmare. No…she would not even think about nightmares. It was up to her to change what was happening.

“Annie?” Max said. His smile did not disguise tension. He’d not only heard every word Bobby said, he must have drawn conclusions she couldn’t bear to think about.

She breathed in through her nose and concentrated. “Hi, Max.” If she was lucky, she sounded more cheerful than she felt. “This afternoon was great, thanks. Business is steady and that always makes me happy. Kelly came in. He knows how to make a person feel good.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Max said but nothing about him relaxed.

He was worried about Bobby, she could feel it.

“I came here to meet with Spike. There’s still no news on Michele Riley.”

Of course, Michele.
His concern for her made him anxious and that’s what she was picking up on. “I’m so sorry,” Annie said, constantly aware of Bobby listening. “Kelly talked about it, too. All of you have to be upset.”

Max’s dark, dark eyes flickered away for a moment. “We are,” he said.

Annie looked at his mouth. The corners turned up even when he was troubled. “What are they doing to find her?” she said.

“Searching,” he said. “And checking with friends. The usual procedure, I guess.”

“How about that coffee?” Bobby said with a forced laugh. “Guess you aren’t in so much of a hurry to leave after all.”

She continued to look at Max and said, “Bobby’s right. I’d better get on. ’Bye.”

Max turned his head to see where Annie went. She got into the Volvo and drove out of sight, but didn’t appear to head back down Main Street. Out of sight from the shop windows, one small street cut to and from the square. Annie might have taken that but she could just as well have used the alley that led to parking places behind this building. He wanted Annie to have gone home rather than set off to drive aimlessly.

He didn’t want to look at Bobby and even more, he didn’t want to talk to him. The sensation that he’d like to slam him against a wall and demand to know why he was bothering Annie unsettled him. Max got up and went to the counter. Wazoo stood opposite him at once and kept her voice way down. “There’s really big trouble,” she said. “That Annie, she is in danger.”

“What kind of danger?” Max leaned to bring their heads closer.

“I get these notions. Folks laugh at me, but they not thinkin’. Too many times I see things that’s goin’ to happen. Sorta see ’em.”

Max waited for her to continue.

Wazoo took her time before she said, “It’s just I see somethin’ happenin’, or feel things. My mama was the same. And her mama. This time it’s worse—stronger. Makin’ me weary tryin’ to sort it all out. I don’t know what’s goin’ on, or what’s goin’ to happen, but it’s somethin’ terrible. And your Annie’s in the middle of it.” She paused and moved far enough back to see his face. “You, too, maybe. But what I’m pickin’ up is comin’ from her.”

He was a surgeon, a scientist, and he didn’t buy into this drivel. “Thanks,” he said and smiled at Wazoo.
Your Annie,
that’s what she had said. She had no reason to link them as a couple unless Annie had said something to her, and Annie seemed as eager as he was to keep their association quiet.

“You and Annie got something going?” Bobby said.

Max looked at the other man who stared right back. “What?” Max said. “No, you don’t have to say any more. I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to know.” The guy was looking for trouble.

“Of course you don’t. You’re afraid I’m competition and I reckon you’re right.”

The tingle down Max’s spine was a natural reaction to confronting a clearly unhinged man. He composed himself. “Good night to you,” he said.

“I plan for it to be a great night.” The innocent look slipped into a leer.

Max glanced at Wazoo, and thought of Annie. She might or might not be alone upstairs but he wasn’t comfortable leaving while this guy was here. “It’s later than I thought,” he said, checking his watch. “Are you about to close up?”

“In another hour,” Wazoo said.

He looked down into the bakery case and pretended to be deep in thought. “Guess I should eat something before I go. I may not get time later. I’ll have a piece of spinach pie.”

“That pie is collard greens with onions, red beans and boudin sausage.”

Max didn’t like the sound of it, but he didn’t care that much, either. “Fine,” he said. “And I’ll have some iced tea, if you’ve got it. Does everything feel kind of still to you?”

“Uh-huh,” Wazoo said. “Me, I won’t be shocked if there’s another storm.”

“I hope you’re wrong,” Max said and returned to his table.

Wazoo came to clean away the dirty dishes. This time she didn’t have anything to say.

He sensed the man, Bobby, staring at him and looked back. He hadn’t expected to see a smile, but the guy smiled broadly at him.

Max nodded, but wished Roche was with him. His psychiatrist brother’s reaction to this man might be interesting.

“Annie doesn’t talk much about herself these days, I reckon,” Bobby said. “That doesn’t surprise me, no sir. When a body’s tryin’ to get lost it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to talk about the past. What d’you say to that? Had she told you much about where she came from and what she did?”