Follow the Evidence (A Mac Everett Mystery Book 2) (24 page)

“I do too,” Ben added.

“Great, you two can hit the
bricks,” I said.

“But Mac,” Roscoe protested.

“Want to stay? Want to help? It’s
my way or the…”

“OK, OK, you win. I’ll lock it in
my car,” Roscoe said.

“Now that we have that settled,” I
said as I grinned at Roscoe. “I’m going to meet Diego Sebastian and ask him all
about it tonight over dinner.” I said.

When the new round of howls and
objections died down, I excused myself to meet Martin St. John.

The empty coffee shop was a bright
spacious place, a Starbucks with the high prices, but without the name brand. I
spotted a guy in a hotel uniform sitting alone at a table in the back and made
a beeline for him. I checked his nametag and introduced myself.

“Mr. St. John, I’m Ralph Lawless,
mind if I sit?”

St. John was a portly man, not
heavy but sort of round all over, round face, round body, even his pudgy hands,
which he held in a half clinch, seemed round. The maître d’ looked nervously
around the room. I took the seat opposite him. We were the only two customers
in the place.

“What do you have for me, Mr. St.
John?”

He didn’t say anything, but instead
slid his hand across the table toward me. Under his palm was a slip of paper.
This
guy’s seen too many old movies.

I picked it up the paper and
unfolded it. There was a room key inside. I slipped it into my pocket. I smiled
as I read the information on the paper. ‘Suite 3457-one person. “Thank you, Mr.
St. John,” I said. “I need another small favor.”

He frowned, shook his head, and
said, “Where’s my money?”

“It’s coming, but one more thing
first.”

“No more.”

“Come on, it’s not a big thing,” I
said.

“What?”

I leaned over and said, “I’m going
to send you a new bus boy. He knows his way around restaurants, but he’s no
boy. Station him near my table.”

He looked me square in the eye. He
was thinking, eyes flicking down and right. He looked at his watch and said,
“Have him see me by five.”

I shook his hand and palmed him a
wad of C-notes. He put his hand by his side, looked at the greenbacks, and
grinned.

“There’s a little extra there for
your trouble. The guy’s name is Ben Tracy. He’ll be there at five. I’ll see you
at seven,” I said.

He rose without another word and
walked away purposefully.

I ordered four coffees to go and
headed back to my room.

“Everyone got it,” I said.

The three musketeers nodded. None
of them looked too happy.

“Ben, you keep your ears open,
nothing else,” I said. “I do the heavy lifting. Text Roscoe…”

“I text Roscoe when you give me the
high sign or if anything I see anything wrong,” Ben said.

“Right. If this works…”

“If it works we take Lia home,”
Roscoe said.

“That’s the goal, but don’t hold
your breath. Sebastian is an old school thug. This won’t be easy. Ben, you
better change and get going. Remember, St. John will put you near my table.
Clear tables, do anything else they ask, but stay close in case I need back up.
If something happens, I want you to create a diversion.
Do not
come
charging in. Got it?”

“I understand,” the big guy
replied. He headed to the bathroom to put on a black tee shirt with the hotel’s
name on it I’d picked up in the gift shop.

“Roscoe, Marco, you know what to
do?” I asked.

“We hang around outside-casual
like,” Roscoe said.

“We act like tourists,” Marco
added. “When Sebastian gets to the restaurant, we go to his room and break in…”

“Use the pass key and look around,
but don’t take anything,” I said handing Roscoe the room key. “It’s suite
3457.”

“What are we looking for?”

“Anything that could lead us to Lia
or anything we can use against him. Take pictures and get out of there. You
have your phones?” I asked.

They both nodded.

“Remember, don’t get caught…text me
and
Ben if you find anything,” I said “Let us know when you leave too.”

“Ben will text me if anything goes
wrong on your end,” Roscoe added, “and we come runnin’.”

“No, you get the hell out of
there,” I said. “If things go wrong, you won’t be able to help me. I’ll do
better on my own. You guys scatter. Text or call me when you get clear
otherwise we meet back here.”

“But…Roscoe said.

“Ben-a diversion, make some noise,
turn over a table anything like that,” I said. “If it doesn’t work, get out of
there. Don’t do anything else. If I’m right, I’ll get a reaction when I
confront Sebastian and you’ll be there to help me out.”

I headed through the atrium toward
the Old Hickory Steakhouse. I strode into the place like a high roller. St.
John noticed me and met me at the hostess stand.

“Mr. Lawless, good to see you,” he
said. Turning to the hostess he said, “Liz, I’ll seat Mr. Lawless.” Turning
back to me, he said, “We have table your table ready, if you will follow me,
please.”

When we were out of Liz’s earshot,
St. John said, “Sebastian arrived early. He’s having drinks with a man and said
he was expecting someone else.”

“That’s alright,” I said. “Put me
where I can see him. What’s your plan for me to meet him?” I asked.

“He’s asked for 1985 Chateau Helena
Estate Cabernet Sauvignon with his dinner.”

“So?”

“It’s rare and hard to locate. I
paid six hundred for the bottle I have,” he said.

“For wine?”

“I’m going to serve his wine to
you,” he d said. He handed me a slip of paper with the wine’s name. “Ask your
server for this. When he finds out about mix up, he’ll complain. That’s your
opening to introduce yourself.”

“Got it,” I said. “Thanks.”

I took a seat facing Sebastian
three tables away. Sebastian’s pallid face was clearly visible to me. St. John
handed me a menu.

“Mr. Sebastian is the older
gentleman behind me,” he said. “Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Lawless.”

Diego Sebastian looked to be about
sixty, slim and tall with rounded shouldered. His long weathered face had a
sallow look to it. His cheeks curved inward, his skin was slack and pale. A
pair of shuttered rheumy eyes and thinning grey hair completed the old man’s
profile. The classic cut of his grey herringbone suit was expensive. Even
though he had a sickly look, the rich suit gave him an air of sophistication.

His companion had his back to me.
The man was much younger that Sebastian with broad shoulders. The ponytail
hanging down his back made me regret my plan. Laszlo Munoz. His appearance
threw a kink in my plan.
What if he recognizes me?
It had been dark in
that alley so maybe he wouldn’t recognize me. I hoped there’d be time to return
the favor for the going over he’s given me. I was glad I’d gone to the trouble
to use some make up to cover the discoloration on my beat up face. The two men
were deep in conversation and paid me no attention. I watched them out of the
corner of my eye.
Too late to turn back now.

When I opened the menu, I nearly
dropped my teeth. The steaks started at $50! When I’d regained my senses, I
looked around for a waiter. Like every hoity toity over priced restaurant,
there was no one in sight.
A pricy last meal for the condemned.

I noticed Ben walk by their table
with a bus pan in his hand. He paused slightly near Sebastian and continued on
his way. He was out of sight but a moment when my phone vibrated with a text.

‘Sounds like they’re arguing. The
old guy is giving the younger one hell,’ the text read.

Giving him hell, that could work
to my advantage.

A moment later, he walked by my
table and said, “They’re speaking Spanish, but they’re defiantly arguing.”

“OK Thanks, I said. “Could you find
me a waiter?”

Ben chuckled and said, “Sorry, not
my station.”

“Very funny, you think of that all
by yourself?” I replied.

He chuckled again and said, “I’ll
get someone for you, sir.”

I watched him go toward the kitchen
door and speak to someone. A nanosecond later, a waitress was at tableside.

“Welcome to the Old Hickory
Steakhouse. My name’s Ashley, I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Would you
care for a cocktail?”

She was a slim brunette with a soft
voice and a killer body. Her eyes were deep brown and she had a cute upturned
nose and an inviting mouth. Dressed in a loose low cut black dress she was
cool, attractive, and elegant.
Bet she makes great tips.

“Let me have an Old Overholt
straight up with a water chaser,” I replied.

“Ah, yes sir,” That’s…”

“It’s rye,” I said. If she didn’t
know the name, chances were they didn’t have my brand. “If you don’t have that,
I’ll take George Dickle or Wild Turkey, but put either of those over ice.”

“Yes, sir,” Ashley said and then
retreated toward the bar.

Ashley was right back with a
tumbler of ice filled with amber liquid. “This is Dickle, sir. Mr. St. John
said to tell you this one is complementary since we don’t have your first
choice.”

At least I was getting my money’s
worth from St. John.

 “Thank Mr. St. John for me,”
I replied.

“I’ll do that,” she said, using her
best smile. “Do you have any questions about the menu?”

“No, but I’ll work on my drink for
a while before I order,” I said.

“Certainly sir, I’ll check back
with you.”

I was half way through my Dickle
when I looked up from my drink and my breath caught in my throat. Randi Massey was
walking toward right toward me. Her short silky black dress caressed her curves
as she floated gracefully across the room, her golden brown hair bouncing with
each step. I couldn’t take my eyes off her sleek tan legs. As she approached
Sebastian, she broke into a smile and offered him her hand. The two men stood
and Sebastian kissed Randi’s hand.

She was preoccupied with Sebastian
so she didn’t see me and to my good fortune sat between Sebastian and Munoz.
She was in profile to me but she wasn’t looking my way. Ashley immediately
appeared and took Randi’s drink order. She disappeared toward the bar and a
moment later came to my table.

I concentrated on Sebastian,
working to hone in on and read his lips, no easy task at a distance. A soft
unexpected voice startled me.

“Another cocktail?” Ashley asked.

“Ah, yeah,” I replied, “and keep
‘em coming.”

I watched the conversation a few
tables away with a feeling for dread. Sebastian was grilling Randi.

“When did it start,” he said.

“I could only see her profile so
her answer was lost. To read lips I have to see the person’s mouth front on so
I was lucky I could see Sebastian’s.

“That long?” he asked. “He used my
yacht and my home for this?”

Randi nodded.

Munoz shook his head
. If I could
only be a fly on the wall? What did Randi know?

Sebastian pointed an accusatory
finger at Munoz. “Shut up, you. I depended on you to watch my boy,” he said. “I
haven’t decided how I’m going to deal with you.”

Munoz was gesturing with both
hands. I could only imagine what he was saying to plead his case.

Randi said something to Sebastian
and he turned toward her with a start.

“How many?” he said.

Randi nodded and spoke.

Damn I wish I could hear the
whole tête-à-tête.

“Is this true?” Sebastian said.

Munoz nodded and made an open hand
gesture.

Sebastian pointed at Munoz. Randi
was sitting back, a now a mere spectator. Finally, Sebastian gave a dismissive
gesture, and said, “We have nothing else to talk about, Munoz. Do not discuss
this with my son. Your obedience from this point on is the only thing keeping
you alive. Do you understand?”

Munoz dropped his head and nodded
like a five-year-old caught stealing cookies.

“You can go,” Sebastian said.

Munoz got up, came to his master’s
side, and offered his hand. He looked like he’s lost his last friend, and maybe
he had. Sebastian looked at his former enforcer and then turned away. Munoz
stole form the room with his tail between his legs. I’d only been in the place
forty minutes, not nearly enough time for Roscoe and Marco to search Sebastian’s
place. Panic seized me as I realized Munoz might go back to the suite. I
couldn’t see Ben in the dining room. I was about to go look for him when he
came out of the kitchen. Ben caught my eye and gave me a slight nod. He had
texted Roscoe and Marco it was time to scram.

Ben walk by their table again
continued on his way. My phone vibrated with another text.

‘He’s grilling the woman about
something now,’ the text read.

I focused on Sebastian again to
read his lips.

“Have you been completely honest
with me?” he said.

“She nodded and said something.

“Go back to Sergio,” he said.
“Don’t let him know we’ve talked. I’ll deal with him.”

Randi nodded and said something
more. I wished I could see her face, but then she would see me.

“Leave me,” he said with a dismissive
wave.

Randi rose from her seat and walked
out of the restaurant.

Randi was intimately involved in
the kidnapping ring. There was a better than even chance she was Sergio’s U.S.
contact. While I was deep in thought, Ashley appeared at my table.

“I’m ready to order,” I said.

“What can we get for you tonight?”
she said.

“I’ll have the New York strip,
medium…”

“Excellent choice, sir, that will
have a warm pink center-and for your sides?” Ashley asked.

I nodded, and then continued, “I
want a Caesar salad, baked potato with everything, and green beans.”

If I was going to die and break the
bank on the same night, I was going to enjoy this last meal.