Controlling Interest (7 page)

“Guess you heard about the little dust-up down there last year. It was in the paper. Place almost burned down. If the cops hadn't of raided — ”

“Hey, look at the time.” Matt grabbed Natalie's arm and peered at her wristwatch. “We have another appointment. Will you give my card to Joey and Leland if we miss them?”

“A raid?” Natalie dug in her heels as Matt towed her toward the door. “I wanted to hear about the fire.”

“What's the big deal? We gotta go. Besides, Peaches is busy.”

Natalie looked over her shoulder. The woman already had her nose buried in a
Star
magazine. In the parking lot, Natalie yanked her elbow out of Matt's grasp. “You are certifiable, you know that? How're we going to learn anything if you decide to leave just when the conversation gets interesting?”

Matt looked harassed. “Alright. Whatever. You go talk to Yasmine's future in-laws, and I'll interview the two Good Samaritans.”

“We decided not to split up.”

“That was before I knew you were going to be such a — ” He raised a hand before she could protest. “Alright. Let's go. But don't say I didn't warn you.”

CHAPTER
FOUR

M
att had no intention of spending every waking moment with the blonde baby detective. She was cute and all, but she was driving him crazy with her questions:
How do you pass the time while you're conducting surveillance? What's the best way to get information out of the police? Can you really trust what you find on the Internet?

He vaguely remembered following Sonny Johnson all over Memphis about a hundred years ago, learning the ropes. But at least he'd had the sense to keep his mouth shut and watch, rather than antagonize his mentor.

While they were waiting for the five o'clock Happy Hour at Porky's, he'd taken Natalie back to his office for a lesson in background searches. He was a man of his word. No purpose would be served by letting her flounder on her own. Besides, he might as well make the most of having somebody to do the office drudgery he tended to put off.

For the last two hours she'd sat at his computer — a two-year-old Mac laptop that he planned to upgrade as soon as he got the funds — running down information on Pakistani groups in Memphis, while he stood at the window making phone calls. The problem was, every time he ended a call, she'd get his attention and ask him something else. Something surprisingly intelligent.

It was almost four o'clock when he finally stuck the phone in his pocket and flung himself into the folding chair around which he'd been pacing like a lion in a cage.

Natalie looked up. “You're a very twitchy person, you know that?”

“I'm not used to company.”

Instead of looking offended, she laughed. “Having to watch your language is good for you.”

“Sorry.” He felt his face heat. He'd caught himself just short of profanity at least three times, but she hadn't let on that she'd noticed.

“I imagine it's difficult to break a habit like that. I appreciate you considering my feelings.”

“It's not just you. My mother always winces. I've got to clean up my act before I go home again.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Still in Illinois. You sure ask a lot of questions.”

She tipped her head. “You make your living asking questions.”

“That's different.” He shifted his shoulders. “There's a purpose to that.”

“You don't think I've got an agenda?”

He sat up straight. “What agenda?”

“I have this new partner that I've got to spend a lot of time with during the next few days. I need to know what makes him go tick-tock-tick.” She waggled a finger back and forth, then glanced at the wedding photos on his desk. “Besides, I've been staring at these people for two hours. I'm dying to know who they are.”

“The one on the left is my little sister, Cicely, and her husband, Timothy. They just had their first baby. The one on the right is my big brother, Drew, and his wife, Autumn. They have a couple of rug rats named Molly and Spenser.”

“The middle one is your friend Cole?” Natalie picked up the frame to peer at it more closely.

“That's right.” She'd remembered Cole's name after one mention. Impressive. “I haven't seen Cole since Christmas, because he and the judge live in Montgomery.”

“What's her name? Do they have any kids?”

“If I'm twitchy, you're nosy. No, they don't have kids yet, but Laurel's expecting in June.”

“Oh,
she's
the Supreme Court chief justice who was in the news last year?” She touched Laurel's glowing face. “Wow, she's gorgeous.”

“Yeah. McGaughan's always had good taste.” Matt studied Natalie's pert profile. It wasn't as classic as Laurel McGaughan's, but there was something vital there that drew the eye.

Natalie set down the photo. “So you have friends in high places.”

Matt shrugged. “I don't think of it that way. They've been real good to me. I even lived with them for a month or so right after . . . Well, Laurel had this crazy idea it was her fault I lost all that money on the Field case. I went to their church until I decided to come back to Memphis and start over. Probably should have stayed a little longer, to get better grounded, but I didn't want to cramp the honeymoon.”

“Where do you go to church here?” Natalie picked up the plastic toy that had come with her lunch and started twirling it around her finger.

“I'm a ship without a port at the moment. Mom and Dad are Lutheran, and Cole and Laurel are Baptist, but I can't find one that suits my lifestyle. The liturgical stuff doesn't feed me enough, but I don't care for rock-n-roll when I worship either. So I sort of . . . float around.”

Natalie frowned. “I don't know that worship is about lifestyle. Church is a body you get grafted into. It changes you, not the other way around.”

“You sound like my mother.” Matt grimaced. “I don't know how to explain it. I just want to find some kindred souls and hang out.” He could see Natalie preparing to argue. “Let's save this discussion for later. It's time to head for Porky's fine establishment.

You got your pepper spray handy?”

Any city as old as Memphis had its seamy parts; having grown up in the area, Natalie knew where they were. But Mom and Dad had kept her fairly sheltered. Running around with Matt Hogan was a revelation.

They took the interstate down to the south side of town, where a jumble of federally subsidized housing alternated with industrial plants, dilapidated shopping strips, and the occasional well-tended old neighborhood. Eventually they passed exit signs for the airport, whose runways and terminals sprawled to their left, then took Winchester toward Airways just before hitting the Mississippi state line.

She looked at Matt, who was driving in comfortable silence, the radio tuned to a political talk show. “You sure you know where you're going?”

“Yep. Been here lots of times.”

“Seems like a weird place to hang out — your office being downtown and all.”

“I like to play pool.”

“I know but — ”

He glanced at her and turned down the radio. “What? You're not gonna tell me playing pool is a sin, are you? I've already had to cut out most of my favorite things to do.”

“Goodness, you're touchy. It's not that. But this is a really depressed part of the city. Depressing too.”

“Natalie, I told you I'm not a rich guy like your dad.” Frowning, he kept his eyes on the road. “I can't afford the downtown nightlife. Or fancy dinners and upscale dance clubs and movies and theaters.”

Under the irritation she saw hurt. “I didn't mean — ”

“Oh, never mind.” He flipped on a turn signal. “Here we are.” They turned into a paved lot in front of a brick-and-metal-sided little building with a flashing blue neon sign that read “Porky's Pool.” Another sign in the window advertised “Happy Hour: half-price beer.”

Face expressionless, Matt turned off the ignition and jumped out of the car. Natalie scrambled to follow. And watched him morph in front of her eyes.

His posture became loose-limbed, shoulders carried at a rakish angle. A faint smile tipped his mouth — the kind of cocky smirk she'd have been tempted to slap off if he'd just been introduced to her. He swung open the pool hall door, stuck his head in, and yelled, “Hey, where's the party?” Holding the door for Natalie, who hardly knew where to look as she slid past him, he looked her up and down and whispered, “Pretend you don't know me.”

“That shouldn't be hard,” she muttered. “Who
are
you?”

He just winked and followed her inside.

Fascinated and just a bit nervous, though aware of Matt's solid presence at her back, Natalie took note of her surroundings. It had been a long time since she'd been in a bar. Bad memories. The liquor counter and bar took up the whole left side of the large open room: bottle after bottle, with a plain mirror fixed in the center of the far wall. Billiard tables flanked the remaining walls, with a few small tables and their chairs in the center of the room. About what she would have expected, except the paneling looked new, gleaming with wax, and the mirror shone.

“I thought you said there was a fire,” Natalie said under her breath to Matt.

“They rebuilt. Go on over to the bar and ask for our guys Joey and Leland.” Matt gave her a little push in the small of the back, then swaggered toward the closest pool table where a couple of middle-aged guys were chalking their cues.

Get over yourself, Nat
, she told herself.
This is your chosen profession.

Taking a silent breath, she approached the bartender, a twenty-something guy with a short haircut and sideburns, who was squatting to organize something under the bar. She could see a ring and a couple of steel studs along the top edge of one of his ears and a large snake tattooed on the back of his neck.

She smiled. “Hi. I'm Natalie.”

He looked up — a square, solid young face — and his eyes widened. He got hastily to his feet. “Hey. Can I help you? Beer's half-price.”

“Thanks, but could I just have some soda water? I'm looking for a couple of guys who hang out here.”

He grabbed a glass and filled it, the soda fizzing pleasantly. “You know their names?”

“Yeah. Joey Roberts and Leland Stafford. They work for Mojo Electric, and they would've been in here yesterday afternoon around this time. Did you see them?”

The young man set Natalie's water on the counter. “Sure. They're in here nearly every day, even though neither one of 'em plays worth a — ”

“Are they here this afternoon?” Natalie snatched up the water and sipped. Matt wasn't the only one with a tendency toward bad language.

“Right over there.” The young bartender tipped his head, and Natalie followed his gaze to where several men in work uniforms leaned over a table in the back corner. “Joey's the littlest one, and Leland's the bald dude. Every day he comes in with a new cap and loses it in a bet. You know Joey won five hundred bucks in the lottery last year?”

“I heard.” Natalie laid a couple of dollar bills on the bar and smiled. “Thanks.” She tried to catch Matt's eye as she walked by him, but he was in vociferous conversation with a hulking young man who towered, arms folded, over everyone else in the room. Wide of shoulder and narrow of hip, he had “bouncer” written all over his thick forehead. Pressing a hand against her quivering stomach, she approached the table in the back. Why had Matt sent her to do this by herself? She didn't know what she was doing.

Something told her not to pull out her notepad and pen. Putting her hands behind her back, she made herself slow her pace, even though every male eye in the room — which was all of them — followed her progress.

She halted a few feet from the table. “Excuse me. Which one of you guys is Joey Roberts?”

The smallest man held his cue to his chest and straightened his posture. “That's me.”

Natalie zeroed in on Joey's round face. “I heard you won the lottery last year. I wondered if I could ask you some questions.” Not a single lie in that, though she'd implied she was a reporter or something.

Joey reddened. “Sure.”

“Can we sit down at a table? I'll buy you a drink.” Natalie glanced at Leland, who was googly-eyed. “Your friend too.”

“Okay,” the two men said in unison.

Natalie smiled and led the way to an empty table. They all sat down. “My name's Natalie Tubberville. I'm interested in what you can tell me about the young lady you transported from the airport yesterday afternoon.”

“You mean Jasmine?” asked Leland. “Can I go get our drinks?”

“Yes, but make sure it's nonalcoholic.”

Leland looked disappointed. “Okay. If you say so.” He stood up, knocking over his chair, and headed for the bar.