Boogie House: A Rolson McKane Mystery (33 page)

“I see where you’re going with this, but we don’t run a gossip mag. This is just a picture. It is uncorroborated by anything factual. One picture a scandal does not make.”

“Leland Brickmeyer is a liar, and he is hiding something about his involvement with this case. If there is any one entity that should have a vested interest in making sure the truth comes to light, it is this newspaper.”

“And it is your vested interest to bring down that man, I assume.”

That one almost stung me. “I don’t care about Brickmeyer, in the broader sense. He might not be part of the plot to cover up the kid’s murder, but he’s got some questions to answer.”

“Or at least need to be asked,” she added.

The air conditioner blasted a wave of cold on me as I sat there, watching her, trying to figure out in what direction her wheels were turning. "Interesting," she said. "Bet they didn't figure this sort of thing would emerge."

The Examiner had done little more than glorify Brickmeyer’s PR offensive, and I hoped this might help to turn the tide somewhat. "I can’t run the story without the picture.”

My heart sank. “I know,” I said.

“I also need to have it scanned.”

I nodded, adding, "Long as it ends up in my hands by the time I hit the door."

She smiled in a way that both comforted me and sent my heart into my throat. “Leland Brickmeyer is going to shit a brick when he sees this. I’ve got to be honest. We can run an article tomorrow."

“Do you have enough time to put something together before the issue hits print?”

She exhaled. “Won’t be much in there. Speculation, mostly. I’ll reach out for a comment, but who knows how that will go.”

“You’ve heard all the rumors, though. You know most of the information is solid, even if it’s not totally confirmed. And it’s not like you have to say anything is definite. You’re just going to ask questions that need answers.”

“All right, all right,” she said. “Stop selling. Rest assured that I’m not going overboard with this story, though. It’s going to be a grounded question mark, not an exclamation point.”

“I understand that.”

“Good,” she said.

“This’ll be a ‘crucible’ moment for him. He’s got to decide how well he can hide in plain sight.”

“Let’s get to work. I need you to sit down and tell me everything you know. The police department has been stonewalling us, of course.”

“I could have come to you sooner,” I said.

“They’re still going to know I’ve talked to you. You’re the only person who would get within sniffing distance of Brickmeyer and the Laveau kid’s death.”

“It just needs to be out there in the world. Leland Brickmeyer cannot just win because people are afraid of unsettling him.”

She made a raspy, phlegmatic sound, the smoker's giggle. "We can put it on the site as well as in print. People will have the weekend to talk about this, and if the simmering anger grows to a boil, Leland will have some tough questions to answer on Monday. And I'll be the one to ask them."

*  *  *

After I left the newspaper office - picture in tow - I flipped open my cell and stared at Janita Laveau’s number as I walked to my car.

She needed to know about the picture, needed to know that it was probably going to be splashed all over the newspaper tomorrow, but I sort of hoped that Doris would take care of that. If there was anyone she needed to speak to about the story, it was Janita.

Still, thinking about what was going to happen made my stomach turn. It was a necessary evil, but it felt evil nonetheless. I closed the cell.

Maybe later, I thought.

Instead, I gave Deuce a call. Something had occurred to me. "Get ready. I need your help with the Brickmeyers," I said, getting behind the wheel of the Olds.

"No can do, hoss," he replied. "Meet me at my office. Big things are going down, and they involve you, my friend."

"What things?"

"You're not in public are you?"

"About to ride down the road."

"Get your ass here, and come to the back door. Don't let anybody see you." He hung up. I sat there for a few minutes and then did exactly what he said.

I parked across the street and snuck down the alley to Deuce's office. He was waiting with the door cracked. "Come on in," he said.

Deuce locked the front door and flipped the hanging sign to CLOSED. I fished in my pocket for the picture of Emmitt and Jeffrey. "I've got proof that Jeffrey knew Emmitt Laveau. I think they might have been lovers."

"You've got bigger shit to worry about now," Deuce replied, not even glancing at the photograph.

We sat down and Deuce explained. When he was finished, I tried to put the pieces together. I was incensed. "I don't understand why an APB would be put out for H.W. and me. I went to find him to convince him to disclose what he knew."

"Or to tell
you
what he knew, right?"

"Right."

"Nevertheless," Deuce said, "a picture of you two chatting it up outside Laina Donaldson's trailer surfaced with the police. He's wanted on a pretty heinous assault beef - and they're definitely going to question him about the murder, if they catch up with him - so you're getting dragged into the quicksand with him."

"That's ridiculous."

"You've created a stir. The men you’ve pissed off are in positions to put you away."

"I'd put money on the fact-"

"Hey, watch it with the gambling stuff."

"Sorry. But Ricky Walton is under Leland's thumb, so I wouldn't be surprised if he's the one orchestrating this. He's got more than one reason to. All he'd need to do is produce some physical evidence of H.W. from Laina's place and
find
it at the Boogie House. Then Leland could stand up and call for retribution-"

"And swift justice wins out," Deuce said. "A kick in the ass for the both of you."

"Yep. Damn. All in the name of protecting his son. I should have never confronted Jeff. That's what put this line of defense into action."

"But you can't pin Jeffrey's nuts to a wall based on this. A picture of them together isn't any sort of evidence of guilt. It's what, evidence that he lied? If you show him that, all he has to do is make up an elaborate story."

"It's going to be published in the paper."

"If it doesn't get censored somehow. Did you even ask Janita if that would be okay? I think she'd have a problem with you dragging her dead son out of the closet."

I thought about that for a minute. “I hope to have this all zipped up pretty soon."

"That doesn't change the fact that her son would be outed on the cover of the local newspaper."

"I have to take the chance that she'll understand. If the Brickmeyers aren't shaken up, they won't ever become accountable to their lies and hypocrisy."

"Well, good luck with that, Rol," he said. "I can't be a part of what you're doing."

"Why not?"

He sat forward, moving his keyboard aside and placing his elbows on the desk. "You're risking alienating everyone around you to catch Leland Brickmeyer or his son in something illegal. It has become your white whale, and you're going to end up hurting more than just yourself if you don't slow down and take a look at the motivations for your actions. Jesus, you’re starting to get obsessed."

"Okay," I said. "I can respect that. You can't go down the rabbit hole with me. But tell me one thing: How did you find all of this out?"

"Ron Bullen called and told me to warn you. He's looking for his brother, but the guy's probably already blown town. Good luck getting anything else out of him. He’s probably in the Midwest somewhere by now."

*  *  *

Leaving Deuce's office, I kept my head down. I flicked the phone open and made an emergency call. For the first time, the detective picked up on the first ring. "Hunter," I said, "someone besides the ref is calling the game."

He grunted. "Something strange is going on. Don't know why you're an interesting party to the locals, but you are. Lord knows it's all getting mucked up."

"Can you keep them off my back?" I reached the car, unlocking the door. It was a long shot, but I was working entirely in long shots right now.

“Not much I can do directly, but it looks like they just want to make sure you stop pestering everybody. If they bring you in, they can make you look like a suspect and discredit you so that anything you say will look laughable."

I got in, slipped on my seatbelt, and stuck the key in the ignition. "You have got to believe I had nothing to do with any of this."

"I'm beginning to," he said. “I had my doubts at first, but-”

“Bag full of snakes.”

“Bag full of snakes,” he repeated.

I turned the key and put car into drive, easing out of the spot and riding away, all while checking my mirrors for police cruisers. I didn't see any. "Janita Laveau gave me a picture of her son and Jeffrey Brickmeyer in a more or less loving embrace. I think this is all a defensive maneuver, but I'm afraid if I contact him, they're going to lock me away and forget about me as long as possible, and the picture will most certainly disappear."

"I want to see that picture," he said. "ASAP."

"Doris Allworth over at the paper has one. If you want the original, you'll have to come find me. I'm not going to stick my head too far out of the ground, if I can help it."

"All right," he said. "I'm going to make sure Jeffrey Brickmeyer is brought in for questioning. Until then, keep yourself out of trouble."

"I'll try," I said, and when I hung up, I punched the gas pedal to the floor.

*  *  *

When I got home, the house was all lit up. Again. I threw the car into park and went inside, finding Vanessa bundled up on the couch, knees to her chest, chin on her knees.

She looked up at me with wide eyes. She’d been crying recently. "Sorry about the lights. Thought I heard something outside a little while ago," she said. "And I think I heard gunshots some time ago."

I didn't want to entertain the idea that somebody who was looking for me might have shown up when only Vanessa was around. That thought shook me in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

She smiled and added, "I guess this couch has become my security blanket. I don't think I've left it all day."

"It's all right now," I said. "I'll go flip them off."

"Can't we leave them on? I'm still shaking."

I went into the kitchen. Somehow, looking through the window made me shiver, even with the curtain drawn. I felt eyes all over me. It was an abject lesson. I couldn't make the mistake of assuming that my territory was off-limits. Attacking a member of Brickmeyer's crew had obviously opened up the playing field.

I made Vanessa's favorite meal for the second time since she’d arrived. I boiled some rice and then tossed in two cans of stewed tomatoes and a couple spoonfuls of pickled jalapenos. Without some pork to throw in the pot it would be somewhat flavorless, but I let it slide. I had more on my mind than comfort food.

"Did the cops show up today?" I asked.

"No. They supposed to?"

"Maybe."

"Well, today
nobody
did. I got nothing out here but that creepy noise a while back."

"What did it sound like?"

"A guitar," she said. "Well, it was more like two cats mating, but I'm pretty sure it was
supposed
to be somebody playing guitar."

"Huh," I said, trying to gloss it over. “That is weird.”

"You think you gonna catch the people doin' all this?" Vanessa said from the living room, as I sneaked a glance outside at the dark outline of trees.

"Hope so." But I wasn't feeling too optimistic.

"I mean, really. This past week’s paper was real negative, Rolson, saying it'd be a long investigation."

"Right," I said. "It might drag on, but I doubt it'll be an investigation at all from here on out. I just have to find a way to nail Brickmeyer."

"He doesn't have his head completely up his ass, though you think so.”

“He’s an abomination. I just haven’t found the right thing yet.”

“He's been a politician for long enough now, and even if you're right, even if you found him standing over the body, before it was all over, you'd be the one with all the suspicion, not him. He'll find a way to slither out from under the tin roof, and it'll ruin you."

I actually managed a smile at that. "Not much left to do there."

On the stove, the frothing red mixture gurgled and popped, sending a spray of red droplets across the counter. I pulled it from heat and slid the pan over to a cold eye. I went over to the cabinet and found the two least dirty bowls.

One slipped from my grasp and clattered on the stove, sending flecks of red all over the counter. I cursed, and Vanessa said, "Without bad luck..."