Brand New Me (30 page)

Deirdre managed not to grind her teeth in frustration. “Did you give him my message?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She couldn’t tell anything from Alanis’s voice, but clearly her father wasn’t giving her top priority at the moment.

“Thank you, Alanis. Please let him know I’m still trying to reach him.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

If she couldn’t contact her father, Deirdre figured Craig would be the next best thing. She called several of the plusher bed and breakfasts around town, but, predictably, they weren’t eager to tell her if a man named Craig Dempsey was staying with them. Tomorrow she’d try to get Docia involved—she might be able to call in a few favors and stir up more information than Deirdre had been able to so far. But for the moment, she was stuck.

She watched Tom talking with Nando Avrogado. He seemed to have aged six or seven years overnight. She could always apologize again, but it wouldn’t help nearly as much as finding Craig. And she had a feeling she needed to find him before Tom did if she wanted to save her boss from assault charges.

The evening was winding down. The Steinbruners were on their last game, judging from the amount of loud commentary they were throwing out. Around a third of the tables were still occupied, but most of them had already passed on another round. Deirdre gathered up bottles from the empty tables as she watched Nando stroll across the room to check on Chico. She wandered back to the bar and began sliding the bottles into an empty case.

Clem leaned on the bar beside her. “How’d we do?”

Deirdre shrugged. “Okay, I think. Most of the tables were full.”

“Tom still pissed at us about opening?”

Deirdre glanced at him. He didn’t look mad. All she saw was exhaustion. “I don’t think so.”

“Damned hard-headed man,” Clem muttered. “When is he going to figure out we’re all in this together?”

She blew out a breath. “Soon, I think.”

Three more men walked out the door. The Steinbruners were putting their cues back into the rack, arguing. She let the sound of their voices wash over her. Background noise at the Faro.

After a moment, she stepped next to Tom. “Walk me home?”

“Sure. Always.”

“Stay with me?”

His eyes narrowed as he checked the room. All the customers were gone. Marilyn and Sylvia were gathering up bottles. Chico pushed himself slowly off his stool. Behind the bar, Harry shut down the margarita machine and began to empty the tanks into the plastic tubs for the freezer.

“Please?” Deirdre felt like kicking herself. The last thing he needed right now was a whining female. “I’ll make you some supper.”

His smile was an echo of the one he’d had before Craig Dempsey had darkened his door, but at least it was still there. “What I want doesn’t require any cooking, babe.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. Maybe the world was back on track after all. “Well, all right. I can do that too.”

She grabbed some glasses from the nearest table, her heart suddenly considerably lighter than it had been a few moments earlier. In the kitchen, Leon was getting ready for one last load in the dishwasher. He stood, pushing one hand into his pocket. “This yours?”

Deirdre stared at the envelope in his hand. Her name was scrawled across the front. “I’ve never seen it. Where did it come from?”

“Found it on the floor a minute ago. Over by the door. Maybe somebody pushed it underneath.”

The hairs on the back of her neck seemed to do a quick dance. “Was the door locked?”

Leon nodded. “Figured we better keep it locked from now on. Don’t want nobody getting in here and doing stuff.”

“No,” she agreed. “We definitely don’t.”

Leon picked up a tray and headed back into the main room as she walked toward the door. Through the glass at the top she could see the blank darkness of the back yard. She tore open the envelope.

I have some information you want. If you’re interested, meet me out back at midnight. Come alone. I’ll wait five minutes, no more.

A friend

Deirdre swallowed. The hairs on her neck did an encore. All day long she’d been asking around town for Craig Dempsey. Maybe somebody knew where he was. They probably wanted money for the information. She had what was left from buying the tables. She could pay, assuming they didn’t want too much.

She checked her watch. Eleven fifty-eight. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
Come alone.
But Tom and Chico and Nando would be on the other side of the door. She wouldn’t really be alone in the back yard. She dropped the note on the prep table beside her and turned the latch on the door.

It took her only a moment to decide going out there was probably a really bad idea. The warm night air caressed her face. From somewhere on Main she heard the sounds of music, and she could smell night-blooming jasmine. It didn’t matter—everything in the yard felt wrong.

She stepped away from the door, straightening her spine.
Come on, Deirdre. You can do this.
“Hello?” she called. “Is anyone there?”

Nothing moved in the darkness around her, but she had the sense of someone else nearby. Or her imagination was working overtime. She stepped farther into the yard. “Hello?”

She sensed rather than heard the movement beside her. A hand grabbed her shoulder, yanking her back against a bony chest. Then another hand clamped across her nose and mouth as she struggled to pull free. She smelled something sharp, acrid, cold against her nose. And then the darkness seemed to coalesce in front of her.

By twelve fifteen, the main room was clean. The customers hadn’t done much to dirty it up, and the place had already been thoroughly scrubbed by the time they’d opened for the evening. Tom sent Marilyn and Harry home after a quick twenty minutes of clearing the tables and stacking bottles. Leon unloaded a tray full of clean glasses behind the bar.

Sylvia stood in front of Chico, hands on her hips. “Are you ready to go home, or are you going to be an asshole?”

Chico humphed at her, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes half-closed. Nando leaned back against the bar, clearly enjoying the show.

Tom checked around the room. “Where’s Deirdre?”

Leon shrugged. “Kitchen, last I saw.”

Tom stepped through the door into the kitchen. “Deirdre?” He stepped farther into the room, half-expecting to see her bending over the dishwasher. The room was thoroughly empty.

The door swung open behind him, and Leon put the empty tray on the counter.

“How long ago did you see her?” Tom asked.

Leon shrugged. “A few minutes. She got a note from somebody.”

“A note.”

“Yeah. Pushed under the door or something.”

Tom walked toward the door to the back yard, his chest clenching tight. He pulled it open and looked out. Darkness. Silence. No Deirdre.

He leaned back into the kitchen. “When did she get this note?”

“I found it on the floor by the door. Gave it to her when she came in.”

“Did she say she was going somewhere?”

Leon shook his head. “Didn’t say nothing to me. Just told me to keep the door locked.”

Tom stared at the door. “It’s not locked now.”

“Was when I went back to the main room.” Leon narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t open it.”

Tom glanced desperately around the kitchen again. A piece of paper and an envelope lay on one of the prep tables. He picked it up, scanning it quickly, then closed his eyes.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Shit, shit, shit. Go get Nando.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Deirdre woke slowly, smelling dust and old grease, aware of a scratchy wool blanket beneath her cheek and an overwhelming desire to vomit. She could hear angry male voices nearby and thought about telling them she needed a bathroom, fast. Then suddenly she remembered—the note, the backyard, the…kidnapping?
What the hell?

“You used ether?” one of the men was saying. “Sweet Jesus, you could have killed her.”

“I knew exactly what I was doing, she wasn’t in danger, and you know how I feel about taking the name of the lord in vain. You watch your language around me, Seifert, or else get out.”

The voice sounded lethally calm, also faintly familiar. Deirdre wracked her brain, but it seemed immersed in mush. Who was that anyway?

“So when are they supposed to send the ransom?” Man number one, Seifert, sounded slightly subdued. Apparently Mr. Lethal Calm commanded a certain amount of respect.

“Once they find the note and follow the directions, we can set up delivery.”

“Set it up?” Seifert’s voice had taken on that critical edge again. “You didn’t just tell them where to put it?”

“So we could sit there and wait? Use your brain, Seifert. It’ll take some time to pull a million bucks together. Even for Brandenburg.”

Deirdre’s stomach lurched again. She breathed quickly through her nose.
Well, crap.
They wouldn’t be happy when they found out her father wasn’t around to pull a million bucks together, even if he were so inclined. Which he might not be, given recent events.

“Of course, it could be he’ll be open to another solution. One that would be better for us.”

“What solution? I thought we were going for the million bucks.” Seifert was definitely moving back into dangerous territory again. “A million bucks can buy a lot of ammunition.”

“He could join us.” The other man’s voice had a slight tremor, as if the emotion was getting to him. “He could become our most powerful ally. He could help us achieve freedom for Texas.”

Deirdre closed her eyes. All of a sudden she knew exactly who Mr. Lethal Calm was, unfortunately. Her stomach heaved again and she groaned softly.

A footstep sounded behind her and she opened her eyes. Milam Broadus’s spectrally tall form was silhouetted in the doorway. He regarded her with an unpleasant smile, showing the full range of his picket fence teeth. “Well, Miss Brandenburg. I see you’re finally awake.”

Deirdre gave up and vomited on his shoes.

Nando stared down at the note, then the envelope. “Don’t suppose you recognize the handwriting.”

Tom shook his head, staring around the back yard as if that would tell him something he didn’t already know. She was gone. Someone had lured her outside and then taken her away somewhere. While he was inside stacking beer bottles.

He stepped further into the yard, as Nando shone his flashlight around the fence. Deirdre’s three café tables and chairs sat where they’d left them. Tom’s chest clenched tighter. He’d been going to put them out in the beer garden. Tomorrow. He closed his eyes trying to fight back the red tide of fury and frustration he felt building in his chest. Another thing he should have taken care of and hadn’t.

“What the hell is going on here?” Clem stepped through the doorway behind Nando. “It’s not enough for him to wreck the place? Now that asshole kidnaps Deirdre too?”

Nando sighed. “Dempsey’s a suspect, but we don’t know for sure it was him.”

“Who else could it have been? Nobody in town has anything against Deirdre. Hell, she’s Docia’s cousin. Kidnapping her gets the whole Toleffson family on your back.”

“Thanks for reminding me. I better call the chief.” Nando turned back into the kitchen, pulling his cell from his pocket.

Clem stepped beside Tom. “Damn. Damn, damn, goddamn!” she growled.

He nodded. “Got that right.” The evening breeze blew gently through the thin grass of the back yard. Something fluttered at the edge of his vision. He turned and walked to the fence. An envelope was stuck between the boards.

“What is it?” Clem peered over his shoulder.

“Don’t know. Go get Nando again. I don’t want to touch it until he’s here.”

Clem disappeared into the kitchen, then reappeared a moment later, towing a disgruntled Nando in her wake. He glanced at the envelope and sighed. “Shit. I don’t have my crime scene kit with me. We’ll have to wait for the chief so we can get some gloves.”

“Screw that.” Clem darted back into the kitchen and reappeared with a pair of disposable gloves still in their package. “Dishwashing gloves. Unused. If you won’t take it off that fence, Nando, I swear I will.”

Nando grimaced, then clicked a quick picture of the envelope with his cell phone. He pulled on the gloves and picked up the envelope.

“Let’s go back inside where there’s better light.” Tom herded Nando and Clem toward the open kitchen door.

Nando borrowed one of Clem’s boning knives and carefully pried the envelope open, then slowly unfolded the note inside. Tom peered over his shoulder.

If you want to see Deirdre Brandenburg alive, have one million dollars in non-sequential bills ready in a briefcase by six tomorrow evening. Directions for delivery will follow.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” he blurted. “A million bucks? In unmarked, non-sequential bills? Directions to follow? Does this asshole have any idea how many bills he asking for? In a freakin’ briefcase?”

“That’s not his problem, it’s ours. I’ll tell the chief. Somebody’s going to have to notify her father. And the Feds. Probably won’t let him pay the ransom, but he should know what’s going on.”

“Shit.” Tom rubbed his suddenly stinging eyes. “Her father is out of the country. She told me where once, someplace in Eastern Europe. I don’t even know if you
can
notify him.”

Nando shrugged. “Got to try anyway.” He headed for the main room, tucking the note back into its envelope.

“You think Dempsey did this?” Clem asked.

Tom stared down at the prep table. The red tide was rising again. “I don’t know. None of this makes any sense.”

Clem shrugged. “What doesn’t make sense? SOB wants a million. I could use a million myself.”

“By kidnapping Deirdre? Hell, Dempsey works for her father. And it’s not like he can get away with it—we already know he was behind what happened to the bar. If it’s him, the only way he can do this is to grab the money and run fast.” He paused, swallowing hard.

“And he’ll have to get rid of Deirdre,” Clem finished softly. “Because she knows him.”

Tom slammed his fist into the dishwasher tray, sending it flying across the counter. “Goddamn it! No. Nobody’s going to ‘get rid of’ Deirdre. I’m not going to let that happen.”