Unhinged (9 page)

“I remember that. Keeping the kidneys healthy, huh?” I asked.

Richard pursed his lips and nodded. I was still grateful for the thank-you.

I left to get the drinks and had to wipe a bead of sweat that inched away from my hairline. I feared nothing would ever change.

Jennifer had several bowls ready for the microwave. I figured I could eat fast and excuse myself to leave for the station. At least I didn't have to suffer this torture for too long.

I returned to the dining room and handed them their drinks. “Guess what?” I said, breaking the silence. “I'm on the Absinthe Killer case, me and my partner.”

“Jennifer told us. How exciting,” Carla exclaimed.

Richard finally chimed in. “You expect him to do it again?”

“I'm afraid I can't discuss an ongoing investigation.”

“I guess not.” Richard took a good look at his glass before drinking from it.

“How are you and Jennifer doing?” Carla slid her hand toward me on the table but stopped after only a few inches as if Richard might slap it away.

“Great. Couldn't be better.”

Jennifer came in with the first two steaming hot bowls and put them down in front of her parents. I was relieved knowing that she was going to be sitting with me now.

Her parents eventually started to discuss the weather and the economy but never seemed completely comfortable. That was fine. They were here, and we were all making an effort. During the short silences, my thoughts turned to the investigation and the undercover sting set for tonight.

That evening Agents Wayne and Tucker arrived at the Eighth in the same truck we had used the night before. I was pumped on the idea of Toliver being our guy. Bienvenue was sitting with Ron and me at our desks discussing just how far he should push the envelope. He had come to the station wearing a pair of Daisy Dukes and a Von Dutch T-shirt that was way too tight. Pictures for posterity were taken immediately.

When Agent Wayne entered the room and saw Bienvenue's ensemble, he gave a thumbs-up.

“I don't know, guys,” Bienvenue said. “Getting in with Toliver seems too easy. He barely asked any questions about me.”

“He's a common whore,” Ron said. “He's known for doing this shit, and you're just another payoff. He has no reason to suspect you of anything.”

I knew what Bienvenue was getting at and spoke up. “But if Toliver was our guy, wouldn't he be a little cautious about who he dealt with? Considering the nature of the double homicide, I'd think he'd want to lay low if he was guilty.” I wanted Toliver to be the killer so bad that I hated having any doubts.

“Whatever the case may be,” Wayne concluded, “we have to rule Toliver out as a suspect. Until there's another murder, he's our strongest, and basically only, lead. Besides, you never know what he might divulge to help the case. You need to bring up details of how the victims were treated. See how he responds.”

“Don't mention absinthe,” I said absently. “Ron and I already questioned him on it, and he might think it's suspicious if you mention it.”

We all nodded.

I looked at my watch and saw that the time was drawing near. Agents Wayne and Tucker never sat down, indicating they were ready to get out on location. Ron rose and poured himself some coffee as I meandered toward the staircase with Bienvenue and the agents.

“Good luck,” Ron said.

“Have fun on your date,” I added, getting a show of dimples from our blonde bombshell.

We sat in the truck, which was parked on Decatur Street, right in front of Jackson Brewery. Jackson Square and the St. Louis Cathedral were on the other side of us. We decided to park on this main street because it would be the quickest route to any of the side streets.

As soon as Bienvenue left the Eighth, we kept our eyes on the monitor. He walked up Conti to Decatur, then turned left toward his destination, and within minutes he passed our truck. A moment later, he was standing in front of the St. Louis Cathedral. To his left was the historic museum called the Cabildo, and to his right was a strip of shops. Directly in front of the cathedral was a gated section of trees, bushes, and flowers.

“Nothing yet.” Bienvenue apparently bent down to tighten his shoestrings.

We could see the various displays of paintings and palm readers set up around Jackson Square, inviting tourists to spend their money. Some raw jazz was playing in the background peppered with occasional hootin' and hollerin'.

“Sam,” was suddenly heard over the speakers.

“Kenny, I'm glad you came.” Bienvenue turned to get a shot of two men walking up to him.

“This is Greg.” We could see his washboard abs through his V-neck. He was a bit smaller than Bienvenue.

“Hi, Sam. Kenny told me what you want. I'll take light hits to my torso, back, arms, and legs, but no contact to my face or dick. Got it?” He had a deep, Barry White voice.

“Got it. Man, this is great. So, where do we go?” Bienvenue asked in a high-pitched voice.

“Where's the cash?”

We saw the roll of hundreds directly in front of Bienvenue's belt camera.

“Two grand.” It was shown to Toliver and then put back into Bienvenue's pocket. “You'll get it when I see the setup.”

“Fair enough. Let's go. I arranged it at a friend of mine's house on Iberville. Everything we need is there.” The camera started to bounce as they walked toward the street. It would only take minutes for the trio to get there.

“So, Sam,” Greg asked as they walked, “you trust us enough to just hand over two thousand dollars? How do you know we won't beat the shit out of you and take it?”

“Shut up,” Toliver said. “Don't mind him. He's very blunt and tactless with a morbid sense of humor.”

“No, I thought about that. I know where Kenny works. Plus, he has a good reputation. He'd have to kill me not to have me come after him. I figure you guys are on the up-and-up.” Bienvenue was doing great.

We watched the camera cruise down Royal, and I got the itch to move to a new location.

Agent Wayne felt the same way and spoke up. “Agent Tucker, take us to Bienville. We'll wait until we have an address before we settle in.”

Tucker crouched through a panel in the truck, then put himself in the driver's seat. The truck roared to a purr and shifted into gear.

Bienville ran parallel to Iberville and fortunately didn't carry that much tourist traffic. As Tucker drove us to the nearby street, we continued to monitor Bienvenue's progress.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” Greg's voice had a menacing quality to it.

“I want the place we're going to be your house, and I'm breaking in. You catch me and we struggle. I pretend to kill you, and then—you know.”

“What's your size?” Greg asked.

“Size?”

“I don't want any surprises when the time comes. There's a size limit.”

“Nine.”

We looked at each other at the exact same time.

The monitor showed that they were on Iberville about two blocks off Decatur. Toliver ran up a flight of steps, and we heard a door open.

“Make the next right, and come back up toward the river on Iberville,” Ron yelled to Tucker. “Park when you can.”

We found a spot directly across the street from our private show and crept to a stop in front of a nude art gallery. Agent Tucker rejoined us in the back.

Wayne spoke to us in a low tone. “If things get crazy, on my command, we rush up the stairs and stop at the door. Agent Tucker will tell me exactly where everyone is located over the receiver in my ear. Then, on my signal, we bust through the door and get Bienvenue out of harm's way before anything else goes down.”

Ron and I nodded.

The three men entered the apartment, and a light came on. We saw a modest to poor living room with a folding divider between it and the kitchen. There were several rips in the couch and obvious damage to the walls.

“Greg, lift up your shirt. Those are blood packets. When you go to stab him with the fake knife, he'll smack the packets releasing the fake blood.” Toliver smiled as the camera panned to Greg's lean six-pack.

“That's fantastic,” Bienvenue said with a lilt in his voice. I believe he was one step away from a having a lisp.

“I try to give my customers their money's worth. There're condoms on the table. This won't happen unless you use one.” Toliver let out a burp as Bienvenue's camera turned to the stack of rubbers.

“Of course. You know how to work my camera?”

“Yeah, no problem. We can start whenever you want.”

A moment passed. This was when Bienvenue had to test the waters. It was do or die. We were ready to charge up the stairs. Bienvenue had to be convincing.

“Can I talk to you alone in the kitchen?” Bienvenue asked. We followed Toliver's ass to the front of the dishwasher.

Everyone in the truck stayed glued to the monitor.

“How much would it cost to get a little more realistic?”

“How much more realistic do you want it?” Toliver's voice became a little whiney. I saw that his hands were planted on his hips.

“Don't get me wrong. I love what you've set up here, but I was kinda hoping to go a little further. You're a man who can make things happen, right?” The view turned, then swung back around, giving us a close-up of Toliver's crotch.

“What are you getting at?” Toliver crossed his arms.

I feared if Bienvenue seemed like too much of a high-maintenance pussy, he'd get his ass whupped and the money stolen.

“I've done time in Joliet,” Bienvenue started. “For attempted murder. I . . . I'm ashamed to say that I was going to kill this guy, so I could, you know, do this. But I couldn't go through with it. I'm a puss. The only reason I did two years was because I called 911 to get him help after I clubbed him with a bat.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I have money, lots of money. If you could set up something . . . something real, I could make it worth your while.” Out of nowhere, Bienvenue grabbed a real nine-inch kitchen knife and displayed it in front of his belt as he ran his finger along the edge. “Hypothetically, of course.”

“A real snuff film? Is that what you're asking me?”

“Ten thousand dollars. Fifteen. Name your price.” Bienvenue ran his index finger across Toliver's forearm. It killed me when the camera wasn't pointed up at their faces.

“You want me to set up someone to get killed?” It was barely a whisper. Agonizing seconds passed without a word. Then a heavy sigh came over the speakers. “Can you get a hold of thirty thousand dollars?”

A pregnant pause. “Yes.”

Toliver backed away a bit as if there were going to be a gunfight at the OK Corral, then hopped up on the kitchen counter. “Drop the knife, then drop your shorts.”

“What for?”

“Before we go any further, you're going to do what you came here to do.” The camera caught Toliver stroking his mustache. “Greg, get in here.”

The lean bean walked in. “What are you dolls discussin'?”

“Drop your pants, Greg, and get rid of those packets of fake blood. The act is off. I want Sam to fuck you right now.”

Greg's pants seemed to drop as if they were weighted down with a brick. He jutted out his pale ass for Bienvenue's entertainment. Our man's shorts had yet to come down.

I felt myself tensing up for action because something was about to break. I didn't think anyone in the truck was breathing.

“This isn't what I'm paying for.” Bienvenue snorted. “Give me my money back.”

“Oh no,” Toliver whispered. Bienvenue was able to aim the lens at Toliver who was now playing with the knife. “We keep the money no matter what. You might as well get a good fuck out of it. Our next deal depends on it.”

“Fuck no. Fucking some stranger's live ass doesn't do it for me. I need the fantasy. Look, let's just forget everything. Keep the money. I'm leaving.”