Chapter 31 #2
Two guys are playing pool at one of the tables and there’s a booth with a couple toward the back of the room as well as a guy sitting on a stool about halfway down the bar. There’s no sign of Aubrey Price, even though the file Ben had on her says she works every night except Sunday and Monday.
I choose the stool that gives me as much distance from everyone else as possible since it will be hard enough getting her to talk to me if she shows up. I don’t want her worried about who could be overhearing our conversation.
Aubrey comes out of a door against the far wall carrying a tray of glasses.
Thanks to Scott, who gave me a summary on Aubrey and the other people who live in that house with her, I memorized the bullet points about each of them using the same techniques that helped me easily recall different football plays.
Aubrey Price, white, twenty-six. Employed as a bartender at Doug’s for the last five years and longest resident in the house.
Clean record, no arrests. Orphaned at sixteen when parents were killed by a drunk driver.
Lived with her aunt and uncle on her mother’s side until she was a legal adult.
Never married, no sign of being in a relationship.
She sets the glasses down on the counter then wipes her hands on a bar towel as she walks toward me.
“What can I get you?”
“Ultra on draft.”
She steps away to pour my beer then sets it down in front of me. “Anything else?”
“About five minutes of your time, if possible.”
“For what?” she asks.
“My name is Hank Landry, Ben Bayliss’s law partner.”
This makes her take a step back. She scans the room, hoping, I’m sure, for some task needing her immediate attention, but there’s nothing. Aubrey seems to resign herself to talking to me because I see her square her shoulders just before she turns to face me head-on.
“I’m also the executor of his estate, and I’m just trying to get a handle on Ben’s things, which is an extremely difficult task while also mourning the loss of my friend and partner. There are some things I’ve learned that left me a little confused.”
She raises just one eyebrow. “Was there a question in there somewhere?”
My laugh catches us both off guard but at least it cuts the tension a bit. “I have about a million questions but almost all of them are for Ben, and, well, I’m outta luck there. But yes, I do have a question. Why did you come to the Rosary for Ben on Tuesday?”
Her jaw goes slack, her eyes blinking rapidly. But she recovers from her shock quickly. “His wife took yoga from my housemate Serenity. She wanted to go but not alone, so I agreed to meet her there. But Serenity being Serenity, she flaked off and didn’t show.”
I’ve underestimated her. I expected her to mention Shane and Eddie, which would lead me to asking about the Mustang.
“That it?” she asks.
“One more, if you’ll allow it. Were you, by chance, in St. Francisville last Saturday?”
There’s a split second of pure shock that crosses her features before she hides it away. Then she tilts her head to the side while she studies me. “That’s a pretty random thing to ask me.”
I shrug. “As I said earlier, Ben isn’t here to answer my questions. It feels like I’m missing something. I’m just trying to make this make sense.”
“Well, welcome to my world. I’ve been trying to get things to make sense for a really long time.” She glances at the wall clock behind the bar. “And that’s your five minutes.”
I tip my head toward her. “That’s fair. I appreciate your time.”
She walks away while I sip on my beer, deciding it was a terrible idea to come in here and tip her off that I may know things that I really don’t know.
But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, the woman in that picture on Ben’s phone was Aubrey Price.
And her name has been swirling around Ben’s since Camille found his body on Sunday morning. There’s a lot Camille isn’t telling me.
Aubrey makes sure not to come anywhere near me for the next half hour, and I realize I’ve gotten everything I’m gonna get out of her. I wanted some indication I’m thinking in the right direction and her reaction has given me that.
I throw a twenty on the bar to cover my beer plus a generous tip and head outside. I’m only a few steps past the front door when a guy follows me.
And because Scott is thorough, he included photos with each housemate summary, so I while I didn’t notice him inside, I recognize him now.
Francis Deacon: mixed race (father is white, mother is Cuban), thirty-two years old.
Goes by Deacon. Sealed file from juvie. A couple of arrests since turning eighteen.
Some petty theft, resisting arrest, and a handful of charges for fighting.
Nothing since he started working for a bookie named Chris Ricci, first cousin on his dad’s side.
Never married, no sign of being in a relationship.
He steps in front of me, blocking my way.
“Excuse me,” I say, stepping to the right so I can move around him, but he mirrors my move.
I put my hands in my pockets, showing him I’m no threat, although we both know he could whip my ass easily.
“Look, man, not sure how I’ve pissed you off, but I’d really like to get out of here and call it a day. ”
His arms are crossed in front of him and he doesn’t seem to have any intention of letting me pass. “Why are you here?”
“Stopped in for a beer?” Pretty sure he’s not going to buy that.
“Try again.”
Thought so. “I’m guessing you know who I am and who my partner was so we’ll skip that part. I had a few questions for Aubrey Price and decided to stop in and ask her. That okay?” I’m too tired to play any more games. “Do we have a problem?”
“Does Aubrey?”
Pulling my hands loose from my pockets, I hold them out to my sides in a form of surrender. “I’ve got zero problems with Aubrey. I’m trying to figure out what the hell was going on with Ben.” I let that hang in the air a minute then add, “You work for Chris Ricci, right?”
His right eye flinches just slightly. He takes a small step toward me and I’m proud of myself for not backing up.
“I promise you I’m not dumb enough to get on your bad side, man. Glad Aubrey’s got someone looking out for her. I’m not your enemy. Or hers. All I’m trying to do is wrap my head around what Ben was doing.”
A small smile flashes across his face and that worries me more than the fierce look I was getting. “You want to know what your buddy Ben was up to? Maybe you should ask his wife? Pretty sure she’d be able to answer all your questions.”
Now I take a step back because I was not prepared for him to bring Camille into this.
“Camille Bayliss is devastated by the loss of her husband and has willingly cooperated with authorities in hopes that his killer is found as soon as possible.” He can say whatever he wants to me but I’m not going to let him sit here and malign her character.
He laughs. “Well, look at you. You’re pretty protective of her. Maybe more than someone should be over their dead partner’s widow.”
We’re done here.
But Deacon isn’t finished. “If you know anything about Chris Ricci and the people in his employ, then you know we don’t hesitate protecting one of our own.”
We stare at each other for a few tense seconds. “Message received.”
Before I can step around him, Deacon adds, “I get you’re in a tough spot and trying to figure shit out. I only mention his wife because, like you, I’m trying to protect someone I care about.”
I hesitate a second or so then pull out my wallet. “My card. With my cell number. If…something significant happens, give me a call.”