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Authors: Gred Herren

Mardi Gras Mambo (19 page)

BOOK: Mardi Gras Mambo
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Which is truly a frightening thought.
“You remember?” Blaine had a huge grin on his face now.
“Well, kind of.” I shrugged. It was weird. Despite the high number of men I'd slept with, I always remembered them. It was something I took a certain amount of pride in. I wasn't one of those people who fucked someone and then forgot that they ever existed or that it had even happened.
Blaine reached over and patted my arm. “You
were
pretty wasted that night.” He shrugged. “I was, too.”
I just gave him a lame smile, hoping that I wasn't blushing with embarrassment, and walked past him with Venus's coffee. I handed it to her and sat down. “So, why did you want to see me?” Blaine followed me in and leaned against the wall, watching me with that weird half smile on his face.
She took a sip from the coffee and then set it down on the table. “Something really weird came up in this case, and I was wondering if you knew anything about it.”
I glanced over at Colin, who gave an almost imperceptible shrug.
Weird
didn't come close to describing my last couple of days, so I was curious to see what she thought was so strange. “Okay.”
“We ran his prints—the victim's. Misha's.” Venus looked from me to Colin and back again. “And there wasn't a match in the system.”
“So?” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Why is that weird?”
“So we ran them through all the databases, and still nothing.” She was watching me pretty closely.
“I don't get it.” I looked at Blaine, who'd stopped grinning at me at this point, then back at Venus. “What's so weird about that?”
“He should have been in the INS database,” Colin interrupted. “The INS fingerprints applicants for resident alien status now. Isn't that right, Venus?”
She nodded. “And what's weirder is we pulled up his info in the INS database. The picture on file matches the victim's face, but his fingerprints don't. It doesn't make any sense.” She rubbed her eyes. “Unless—oh, Lord, I don't even want to say it out loud; it's so crazy.”
“Go ahead.” I waved my hand. “I'm getting pretty used to crazy.” I gave Colin a half smile. “You might be surprised.”
“The only thing that makes sense, crazy as it is,” she paused again, as though trying to gather her nerve to say it out loud, cleared her throat, and went on, “is if there were
twins.
” She covered her face with both hands, dropping her head down. “I know, I know—it sounds crazy, but it's the only thing that makes sense. That's the only way the two sets of prints wouldn't match. The victim wasn't Misha Saltikov.”
It was all I could do not to laugh.
If only it were just twins, Venus,
was what I wanted to say. I could sympathize—it wasn't going to be easy explaining this all to her lieutenant—but if the notion of twins freaked her out this much, what was she going to say when she found out it was actually triplets? That they were my uncles? And so on and so on and so on. Sheesh, what a fucking mess. I wasn't even sure I could keep the whole thing straight.
She went on. “It would be pretty simple, I suppose, for Misha to come over here, get all of his immigration paperwork put together, and then mail it or courier it out of the country so his brother could get through Immigration completely under the radar . . . but why would they want to do that?” She shook her head.
“Unless the brother wouldn't have been allowed to enter,” Blaine said. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
I shook my head. “Feel free.” I don't smoke, but growing up over the tobacco shop as I did, smoke doesn't bother me. Yeah, there's the whole secondhand smoke thing, but as long as the air we breathe anyway isn't clean and pure of toxins, I don't worry about cigarette smoke. I got an ashtray out from one of the end tables and handed it over.
Blaine shook one out and offered the pack to Venus. She took one and gave me a guilty look. “I quit a couple of years ago, but—”
“Have you checked with the Russian authorities?” Colin asked. “Maybe it wasn't so much that the U.S. would have denied him entry; maybe he was trying to get out of Russia without
them
knowing.”
“Yeah, I've got someone working on that.” Venus inhaled and blew the smoke up toward the ceiling. There was a look of pure pleasure on her face, and then she regretfully stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray. “And the house—the crime scene? It belongs to Sylvia Overton, if you can believe that. And even weirder, Misha—the one who's in the country legally—is here on a
marriage
visa . . . married to Sylvia Overton.” Venus shook her head. “Do you know who Sylvia Overton is? Christ, this just keeps getting crazier and crazier.”
I started to say something but Colin gave his head a little warning shake, so I kept my mouth shut.
Blaine took over at this point. “My mother knows Sylvia. Let's just say she's socially prominent and leave it at that. We've tried reaching her, but she doesn't return our calls. We've stopped by her home a few times, but there's never an answer when we knock and ring the bell.”
“Really?” I sat up. “That's not good. I mean, we just saw Sylvia—when was it, Colin? I can't keep track of the days anymore.”
Colin gave me a pained look. “We were there yesterday morning.”
Venus's eyes narrowed. “And what were you doing there?”
“She's an old friend of the family,” I replied. “She's my grandmother's best friend.” Venus and Blaine were looking at me, both with that suspicious cop look on their faces. I looked over to Colin for support, but he had a sour look on his face. It was perfectly apparent that he hadn't wanted me to tell them anything about Aunt Sylvia and her husband. But I couldn't exactly stop now and pretend I hadn't said anything. “We were invited over for brunch. We just made an appearance; we were tired and wanted to get to bed, but I didn't want to just blow it off.”
“And you didn't think it strange that her husband looked just like your drug dealer?” Venus started tapping her fingers on her knee.
“We didn't meet her husband. He wasn't there,” Colin interrupted smoothly. “We only stayed for a few minutes, had a mimosa, and left. Did you even know she had remarried, Scotty?”
“No.”
“Don't try to bullshit me, you two.” Venus pointed a finger at me. “Scotty, you expect me to believe that the guy you got your drugs from is murdered, and you just happen to show up for brunch at the home of the woman who owned the house the murder took place in the next morning, and she just happens to be married to the twin of the victim? And you didn't meet him? Come on. How fucking stupid do you think I am?”
“I don't think you're stupid,” I said carefully, my mind racing. “Come on, Venus! Be fair. Blaine just said his mother knows Sylvia. She's an old friend of my family's. I didn't know she'd remarried.” It sounded lame, even to me—even though it was true. “I mean, I never pay attention to stuff like that. . . .” Why had Colin said we hadn't met Misha there? I was stuck, couldn't think of anything else to say that wouldn't dig me in deeper.
Venus shook out another cigarette from Blaine's pack, her hand shaking a bit. “You two are investigating this, aren't you?” She frowned. “And where's Frank?” She looked from Colin to me, and back again. “What's going on around here?”
I started to say something but Colin cut me off. “Frank met a guy last night and left with him and his friends. We're not sure when he'll be back.”
Friends?
This was the first I'd heard of this. I frowned at Colin, but he avoided my eyes.
“Yes, we decided to do some checking,” Colin went on. “Wouldn't you have? You two had basically come over here yesterday morning and all but accused Scotty of killing his dealer. We found the same things you did, Venus—that there were two of them, and one of them had married Sylvia Overton. We'd been invited over there for brunch, so we went. Her husband wasn't around, and there wasn't any way to talk to her alone—she had too many guests—so we decided not to say anything to her. We didn't want her tipping off her husband. And we didn't know until yesterday morning she'd remarried. Scotty was just as shocked to find out as you were, Blaine. It didn't make any sense to us either.” He spread his hands out in a gesture of confusion. “So we decided to leave it all up to the police to do their usual fine job.” He gave her a winning smile. “Now, I don't understand why Mrs. Overton isn't returning your calls, or answering the door when you drop in on her, but it's also Carnival, so I doubt if it's anything sinister.” He stood up. “Now, if you'll excuse us, we haven't been to bed yet, and we're kind of tired.”
Venus and Blaine stood. I walked them to the door. Venus stopped. “I don't believe for a minute you three aren't looking into this,” she whispered to me at the door. “And I don't think you're being honest with me about other things. I should run you in for interfering with a police investigation, but I know your goddamned brother would be at the precinct in five minutes screaming.” She sighed. “So, I'm asking you to keep me informed of anything you find—and to be fucking careful.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” I smiled.
She just glared at me and then followed Blaine down the stairs. I shut the door and walked back into the living room. I plopped down in a chair. “What next, chief?”
“I think we need to head back over to Sylvia's and have a little chat with Misha.” Colin flipped his cell phone open. “I'm going to call Angela again.” He walked into the bedroom to make the call.
I stared after him for a moment, a sharp retort on my lips. I got my cell phone out and called Frank's phone again. After a few rings, the voice mail picked up. I hesitated, wondered what to say, and then just hung up. Anything I might say would probably sound jealous or angry, and I didn't want to upset him. He had just followed the rules the way we'd spelled them out, and who was I to be jealous?
Feeling really ashamed of myself, I sat down on the floor in front of the coffee table and got my cards out. I cleared my mind of everything, all the doubts and fears, and said a quick prayer for strength, trust, and courage, then began shuffling the cards. I closed my eyes and tried to focus. I spread the cards out and began turning them over.
History repeats.
Pray for a brave heart.
The need for strength to do what is right.
Danger at every turn.
I stared at the cards and sighed. It wasn't as reassuring as I'd hoped. What the hell did they mean? I remembered that strange moment the other night when Frank and Colin had confronted each other—the blue energy that had crackled off the two of them, the feeling I'd seen that happen before, that the scene had once played out before.
Maybe I was wrong to trust Colin.
No, that was just stupid. Where did that thought come from? It didn't make any sense....
He's lied to you before, more than once
.
But why would he lie to me about Frank leaving with some guy?
No, I was just unsettled about things—that was all it was. The whole situation with the triplets had thrown me off my usual course.
But Colin had lied before.
We'd first met during Decadence. We'd both been dancing on the bar at the Pub. I'd felt a strong attraction to him almost immediately, and when we were done with our shift, he'd come home with me. Then, when I started stumbling over dead bodies, he took great pains to avoid the police. He'd explained to me then that he was a cat burglar, and was wanted. It wasn't until he turned up again in October that he told me the truth—that he worked for the Blackledge Agency, as an undercover operative, and he'd lied so his cover wouldn't have been blown. He'd sworn then he'd never lie to me or Frank ever again. I'd believed him, and so had Frank. Now we all worked for Angela Blackledge . . . and I supposed he hadn't really lied. He just hadn't told either one of us about his past. I could understand it, given how painful it was, but still, it was possible he was lying again.
Colin walked back in, holding his phone and frowning. “Angela's waiting to hear back from one of her contacts in Washington. But she agrees with me—she thinks there's more to Sasha's story than he's letting on—and she's not happy about it.” He barked out a laugh. “And Angela is not someone to get on the bad side of.”
“Yeah.” I swept the cards up and wrapped them back in the blue silk I kept them in, then placed them back in their cigar box and slid them back under the couch. “So what do we do now?”
“Like I said, I think we need to have another little chat with Misha.” He shrugged. “I'm going to jump in the shower real quick.” He gave me a lazy little wink. “Want to join me?”
BOOK: Mardi Gras Mambo
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