Chapter 28
Three hundred sixty-five days a year, Allen Busby put himself through a punishing hour-long workout in his home’s sleek, high-tech gymnasium. He did aerobics, lifted weights, and kept flexible by finishing with yoga stretches. He was determined to stave off a middle-age belly and jowls.
Roland Malone knew all this. He also knew it was an unforgivable offense for that hour to be interrupted for any reason short of the mansion catching fire or a SWAT team closing in.
But this morning’s developments compelled Roland to break the rule. He called Oz shortly after eight o’clock when he would be roughly ten minutes into his workout.
His first two calls went unanswered. Oz answered the third, huffing and puffing, “Don’t tell me the trucks have been intercepted.”
“Not to my knowledge,” Roland said, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.
He was still sour over Oz’s not telling him about the heist he’d pulled on the Caballeros until it was done.
Of course, as evidenced by what he’d said when he answered the phone, the booty wasn’t yet in his possession and he was anxious over it.
Still huffing and puffing, Oz asked, “Then why did you interrupt my workout?”
“We should take care of El Paso tonight.” Roland heard the treadmill winding down. He had Oz’s attention.
“Why?”
He wasn’t going to use the word “niggles” with Oz, so, prior to making the call, he’d composed a spiel that would explain the necessity for El Paso’s removal sooner rather than later. It was the truth, slightly restructured.
He began, “I had a call from my mole in Auclair this morning. Haskell’s in deep dutch with Bowie. He’s doing some stuff that even Bowie thinks is freaky.”
“Like what?”
“Like stalking his therapist. This Dylan Reede, who turned out to be a woman. Remember, I told you?”
“I remember. You said it could be a good thing.”
“I may have been wrong about that. Haskell’s keeping close tabs on her. Claims it’s a guy thing, like he has the hots for her, and he might. But I think there may be more to it. The coincidence is just too convenient.”
“Stop beating around the fucking bush. What’s going on?”
“She had dinner here last night.”
“The therapist?”
Here came the restructured part. “I didn’t know it was her.
At the time, I was sucking up to a Saints player and his mistress, but I see this good-looking gal come in.
I mean a real stunner. She’s by herself.
Ma?tre d’ practically waltzes her to a table reserved for one.
I assigned our best waiter to her and told him to treat her like royalty.
I mean, here’s this babe, eating alone. I wanted to impress, you know? ”
He paused for breath. So far, so good. Oz was listening, not interrupting.
“She had a vodka martini, a glass of red, three courses.
When her coffee was served, I went over, introduced myself as the owner of the place, and asked if I could join her.
She smiled and motioned me into the chair. Five, ten minutes, we made small talk.
“I covered her check. She protested, but I insisted. It was her first time, yada yada, I wanted her to come back. I walked her out and offered my chauffeur to take her home. I mean, you never know. I could’ve got laid.
“Anyhow, she’d hired a car. We’re standing there waiting for it to pull up so she can get in, when El Paso jumps the guy in the median. You know the rest about that.”
“I thought I did. I thought you did.”
“Right,” Roland said. “So imagine my shock when I got a call this morning from my mole telling me that Haskell and his therapist have gone underground together. Bowie was beside himself when he learned that Haskell had sent a cop to her house last night to check out things.”
“Why did he do that? If Haskell was with her, he wouldn’t be sending someone to spy on her.”
“Exactly. Doesn’t fit. I asked myself: Who was Haskell expecting to show up at his therapist’s house in the middle of the night? That’s when I started piecing it together.”
“Piecing what together? You’re still talking in riddles.”
“Think about it,” Roland said. “It’s this doll’s first time to the restaurant.
She comes alone in a hired car. There’s a ruckus involving a homeless man who El Paso had been eyeing for over an hour.
Said the guy hadn’t moved a muscle in all the time he’d been sitting in the grass right across the street from the front door of my restaurant. ”
“Jesus Christ. You think the man El Paso attacked was Haskell?”
“I know it was him,” Roland said dourly.
“The mole says Haskell and Bowie had a heated telephone conversation, during which Haskell tells his boss that he’d been in New Orleans last night.
Ran into some trouble, got cut with a switchblade, and—here’s the worst part—he gave Bowie a description of El Paso. A sketchy one, but still.”
“Did he mention the restaurant?”
“No. But Bowie is going to phone in El Paso’s description to NOPD. They may put it together with the attacks on the other homeless. Which is why we need to make El Paso disappear, so his connection to me can never be proved. He won’t exist. Nobody even knows his real name.”
Oz thought on it for a time, then said, “I had an intuition. There was something off about that homeless man. It worried me all night. You think he sent his therapist to the restaurant to act as his scout?”
Roland said, “That’s why I interrupted your workout. There was a lot of bad mojo in the air last night. Soon as I signed off with my mole, I put on my bathrobe, went downstairs to the ma?tre d’s stand, and looked at last night’s reservations.
“Eight o’clock. ‘Mr. Malone’s guest.’ No name. She must’ve called in the reservation, made out like I had invited her, and I played right into her soft, dainty hands. Great legs, too.”
“Forget her legs. Have you confirmed that this babe was Dr. Reede?”
“I have. I went through the car company. I called and told them their fare had left a pricey scarf in the restaurant, told them I needed her name and contact info so I could make arrangements to get it back to her. Dylan Reede. I got her home address and cell number.
“I’ve called it several times. I was going to admit to calling the car company to get her name.
Act like I was smitten, you know. But I didn’t have to put on an act because she’s not answering.
Phone goes straight to voice mail. So I guess she and Haskell are making cozy somewhere.
I wish El Paso had gutted the bastard like he bragged of doing. ”
He sighed with self-deprecation. “I thought she was an expensive call girl, or some gal with an itch and looking for action. But Mitch Haskell’s shrink? Fuckin’ unbelievable.
“One good thing, though,” he continued in a more upbeat tone.
“She didn’t do anything suspicious while she was in the restaurant.
I got the waiter in here, grilled him good.
Had she used her phone? Taken pictures, anything like that?
He swears not, and I believe him because she was his only table and he’d been told to be at her beck and call.
He said she didn’t even go to the powder room.
” He paused before concluding. “So, that’s where we are. ”
Oz went into one of his think-tank cycles. Roland turned his ring ’round and ’round and said several rapid-fire Hail Marys.
“Haskell was supposed to be a drunken burnout,” Oz said at last. “Turns out he’s still clever as a fox. Why would he be watching you?”
“The mole says he had a notion about Bayou Coeur.”
“Nothing about his wife?”
“No. No way he could know about that.” There was a stretch of silence, then Roland said, “All we gotta do is make El Paso disappear. Then what’s Haskell got?
Nothing. I’ll take care of that cocky kid tonight.
No reason for you to be there. Which I thought was a bad idea anyway.
The more distance you keep, the better.”
“I agree. I didn’t want any wrinkles this week.”
“When do you expect the haul from Mexico? You said end of the week. This is Friday.”
“Last report, the trucks were somewhere in East Texas.”
“All good?”
“All good.”
Roland chuckled. “That’s good mojo.”
Oz must not have seen the humor. He was mapping out his day. “I’ll finish up here, get my pedi, then put in an appearance at the office and congratulate the rank and file on the excellent work they’re doing.
“Tonight, while you’re handling the screwup, I’ll have a quiet dinner at home… while I plot how we’re going to get rid of Haskell. I’d like there to be as little muss and fuss as possible.”
“I’ve been giving it some thought.”
“Think about the shrink, too. No telling what Haskell’s told her. She should go.”
“Yes.” Roland wanted to stand and cheer. He was mentally giving himself a fist bump. Dylan had made a fool of him. She knew how much he feared the fires of hell. She’d be screaming in terror of them by the time he got through with her.
“Any idea where they could be hiding?”
Oz’s question drew him out of his gruesome fantasy. “No, but I told my mole to make it a priority to find out. ASAP.”
“Is this plant reliable?”
“Very. Her name’s Barbara Nix. Want to hear something funny? Bowie assigned her to help Darcy investigate the Bayou Coeur case.”