Mardi Gras Mambo (9 page)

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Authors: Gred Herren

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Frank turned completely purple, his scar almost glowing in intensity. “And why the fuck am I not in my right mind, huh? I might have known you'd take his side on this—you're just as bad as he is.”
“Hey! You're not being fair!” I protested.
Frank stood there for a moment, glaring at us both, his fists clenching and unclenching. “You know what? I think I'm going to go stay at David's for a while.” He walked out of the apartment. The door slammed behind him, and I heard him stomping down the stairs.
David is not going to be happy,
I thought. David had disappeared from the dance floor a few hours before we left, which generally meant he'd picked someone up. I jumped up to go after him, but Colin grabbed me from behind and kept me from moving.
He is remarkably strong.
“Let him go, Scotty. He needs to work this out on his own. Right now he's not happy, and talking when he's like this will do more harm than good. Trust me on this.” Colin kissed my neck. “Part of it's the Ecstasy; you know that. He's upset, and it's amplifying his mood. When he comes down a bit, he'll calm down and feel like a complete ass, and he'll come back.” He squeezed me a little tighter. “Our first fight, huh?”
I felt like crying. I
hate
confrontation. I felt another wave coming over me, and I gave into it, leaning back into Colin's bare chest. I closed my eyes. His arms felt so good around me.
At least he loves me,
I thought.
And I guess he's right. Frank'll get over it and come home. Sure, he will. He loves me too—and Colin.
“I'm sorry, Colin,” I said softly and held on to his arms. I started to cry softly. “First Misha, and now Frank's mad at me.”
“Oh, baby.” He nuzzled my neck. “You didn't do anything wrong, okay? How were you supposed to know Misha was going to get himself killed? Frank knows that, and once he thinks about it, he'll come home.” He let go of me and spun me around so I was facing him. “We both knew what we were getting into when we signed up for this ride, you know.” He winked at me. “Never a dull life with you around.”
I couldn't help myself. I grinned back at him. “Yeah, well, dull would be nice for a change.”
“I think”—Colin walked over to the phone—“it's time to call Storm.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The Moon
unforeseen perils, deceptions, change
 
 
 
At Colin's insistence, I took a shower while he called Storm.
I was still feeling the drug a bit and was kind of shell-shocked. I couldn't believe Frank would walk out like that, and I felt really confused about what to do next. I kind of thought I should run over to David's and talk to Frank, but Colin was probably right. It was just the overemotional state from the drug talking, and the most important thing was to get myself relaxed and calmed down. I was feeling really, really tired when I climbed into the shower. The hot spray of the water on my slightly sweat-soaked skin felt incredibly good and helped dissipate the chill I'd been feeling since we'd walked out of the Parade into the cold morning air. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall, letting the water pound into my chest and trickle down my body.
Focus, Scotty, on a happy place and stop worrying about everything,
I repeated to myself over and over again.
Everything will work out just fine, and worrying just borrows trouble. What will happen will happen, and worrying will just make things worse, so let it go.
I pictured myself on a sandy beach, with green waves gently lapping at the shore, and a nice warm breeze caressing my skin as the sun warmed me. The tension knots that had been forming in my back started to loosen up, and I put my head under the water.
Frank will come back, and the police will catch Misha's killer, and it'll have nothing to do with you, because it doesn't. You just were in the wrong place at the wrong time—again. And Misha is in a better place now. Just remember that this life is merely a transition to the next one.
The aches in my leg muscles from all the dancing began to melt away, and I finally began soaping up my body. Damn, the water felt good. After massaging shampoo into my hair, I ducked my head back under the steady flow.
He'll be back—he loves you.
I wasn't sure if that was the Goddess speaking to me, or whether it was just wishful thinking on my part. Sometimes I can't tell the difference.
I climbed out of the shower and began drying myself off. I looked at myself in the mirror. My pupils weren't as dilated as they had been, and I felt about a thousand times better. Colin was right—everything
would
be fine. I walked back into my bedroom, dug out a clean pair of underwear, and sat down on the edge of the bed. I sighed. If Venus and Blaine hadn't shown up, the boys and I would be under the covers at that very moment having a good time enjoying the last vestiges of our high. I picked my robe up off the floor and slipped into it. It had been a Christmas present from Frank. I'd never owned a robe before, preferring to walk around the house naked or just in my underwear, but I loved this robe. It was plush, warm, and comfortable. I walked back out into the living room.
Colin was sitting at my desk, typing away on my computer keyboard. I'd gotten a computer when I first passed my P.I. exam, but after going to work for the Blackledge Agency, the company bought me a state-of-the-art brand-new model that worked so fast it practically had wings and could fly around the room. I still was pretty clueless about how to operate the vast majority of the programs on it, but I could type up documents and use the Internet, which was pretty much all my job had required me to do so far. “What are you doing?” I asked, as I stood behind him, draping my arms around his neck.
“Seeing what I can find out about our friendly local drug dealer.” Colin leaned his head against one of my arms, then reached up and stroked my forearms. “Storm's on his way over, by the way. He wasn't really happy about being woken at this hour. Something about staying at the Endymion Ball pretty late last night. He was mumbling so I'm not really sure that's what he said.”
“Great.” My heart sank. Don't get me wrong; I love my brother, even if he is a horrible tease. There was most likely going to be a lecture involved when he arrived. Although Storm shares the family mentality that the drug laws are antiquated, he's still an officer of the court, sworn to uphold the law. He doesn't see civil disobedience in quite the same way Mom and Dad do. He thinks if a law is unfair, you work to change it, rather than chain yourself to a fence or carry signs. “You're not mad at me, too, are you?”
“No, of course not. Don't be silly. Frank just overreacted, which, given his twenty years as a Fed, isn't hard to understand, is it?” Colin did some more typing, and another window popped up on the computer screen. “Someone would have killed Misha whether you'd gone there or not. It's just bad luck on your part, is all. If you hadn't, we wouldn't be involved in this at all, but those are the breaks, right?” He grinned at me. “Besides, I had a good time last night—and so did Special Agent, whether he wants to admit it or not. You saw him just as well as I did. Did he look like he was having a bad time?”
I considered. At one point, Frank had some pretty guy in his early twenties pinching his nipples while an older muscle guy was grinding on him from behind, and Frank had a big dumb grin on his face. “Yeah, you're right.”
“Once you accept that I usually am, you'll be much happier.” Colin reached back behind him and stroked my leg. “Don't worry so much about Special Agent, okay?”
“I just hope David was alone.” That was wishful thinking. I was almost positive David had not left the bar alone. If he'd brought someone home with him, he wouldn't be too thrilled to have Frank show up unannounced on his doorstep. Neither would the trick—David was too polite and nice to tell Frank to go away. I put it out of my mind. “Find anything interesting?”
“Well, I've hacked into the INS database.” Colin really
can
do anything. It's more than a little scary sometimes. Fortunately, he uses his powers for good rather than evil. Well, for the most part, anyway. “And it's searching for his name right now.” The computer dinged and a file opened up. Colin leaned in to get a better look. “Isn't that interesting?” He whistled.
“What?”
He pointed at the screen. “He got into the country on a marriage visa.”
“Marriage? You mean he was married? To a
woman?
” I tried to wrap my mind around it. Misha was
straight?
Then, come to think of it, I'd never seen him with another guy, and whenever a guy had shown any interest in him, he was very polite but not interested.
“Yup.” Colin scrolled down. “He married a woman named Sylvia Overton two years ago. Here in New Orleans—a ceremony at city hall. He originally came in on a tourist visa, then got a green card by marrying a citizen.”
“
Sylvia Overton?
You're sure?” I sat down on the edge of the desk, my mind racing. This was getting really weird.
“Says so right there in black and white. Why?”
“I
know
Sylvia Overton.” Sylvia Overton was a friend of my Maman, Sophie Diderot. I'd known Sylvia pretty much my entire life. Her husband had been a district court judge for thirty or forty years before dying of a massive coronary a few years back. She was in her late sixties, maybe even older. Why on earth had she married a young Russian immigrant in his twenties? How had she ever come into contact with him in the first place? This didn't make any sense. Aunt Sylvia was married to a
drug dealer?
No, it couldn't be right. There had to be some kind of a mistake. There had to be another Sylvia Overton. “Does it say when they got married?” I remembered vaguely hearing someone say once at a family function that Aunt Sylvia had remarried, but I hadn't paid much attention. I hadn't seen her in a while—come to think of it, not since the judge's funeral. I was about to say as much to Colin when the front door opened. I got up, hoping it was Frank, and was enormously disappointed to see my older brother.
Storm is a tall man, over six feet tall, and loves to tease me that he got the height in the family. He'd been a jock in high school, starring on the football and baseball teams at Jesuit High. He had a big strong frame, but years of eating and drinking well without exercising were starting to show. He was getting a little fleshy—which
I
like to tease
him
about. He has the same dirty blond hair I have, but his is straight with a receding hairline. Fortunately, he keeps it cut short, rather than comb it over. “Is there any fucking coffee?” he asked before plopping down on the couch. He looked tired and hungover and smelled slightly of stale liquor.
“I'll get you some.” I walked into the kitchen as Colin clicked to print the file. “You look horrible, Stormy. Hung out with ole Jack Daniels again last night?”
“My old buddy Johnny Walker Red.” He rubbed his face. “Thank God Marguerite stuck to mineral water or we'd have never made it home.” Marguerite is his wife, a nice Uptown girl who always looks lost at our family gatherings, with a polite smile frozen on her face. “I'm getting too old for this stuff.” He always said that when he was hungover, but I knew he'd be drinking again later on. It's Carnival, after all.
“Do you want a sandwich or something to settle your stomach?” I called from the kitchen as I mixed cream and sugar into his coffee.
“No, the coffee's fine.” He took the cup from me and sipped gratefully. “So what kind of trouble are you in now, my Queen?” Even with a hangover of apparently epic proportions, he can't stop himself from teasing me. He really is aggravating.
Colin brought him up to speed while I sat there saying nothing, waiting for the inevitable lecture. Every once in a while, Storm would shoot me a thunderous look. When Colin finished talking, Storm glared at me. “You are so fucking lucky you know Venus. They easily could have dragged your ass down to the station—and you'd be fucked. And I don't mean in the good way, either.” He shook his head. “Scotty, when are you going to learn?”
“I know, I know.” I held up my hands and didn't look at him. “But without arresting me—”
“Suspicion of murder. Material witness. Drug trafficking. They could have brought you in on any number of charges, you fucking bonehead. Sounds like they already knew that this Misha person was a drug dealer and you were there and didn't even know his real name, so why else would you be there? Obviously, you weren't that good of friends.”
“Sex,” I replied, sticking out my lower chin. “We could have just been tricking.”
Storm stared at me for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, you are a piece of work, baby bro. Sex! That's perfect—worthy of me.” But he shook his head. “You shouldn't have given them your clothes. Now they have your DNA.”
“What difference does that make? I didn't kill Misha.” I folded my arms defiantly.
“Probably also proves you didn't have sex with him.”
“Oh.” I deflated a bit. I hadn't thought of that.
“Storm, not to interrupt this charming family moment, but this guy got into the country on a marriage visa,” Colin broke in.
“And guess who he's married to?” I leaned forward. Storm doesn't shock easily, but I felt confident this would rock him. “Sylvia Overton.” I sat back, ready to enjoy the look on his face. I don't get many opportunities to shock him.
Storm's jaw dropped, and his eyes bugged out. His head swiveled back and forth between Colin and me for a few moments before he blurted out, “As in
Aunt
Sylvia? Her husband is—
was—
a drug dealer?”
“You knew him?” I asked. “I mean, I remember hearing she'd remarried, but I don't remember anything about him.”
“Yeah, she married some young Russian army guy. I've met him a couple of times.” Storm shook his head. “And that guy was your drug dealer?” Storm scanned the printouts, finally setting them down on the coffee table. “I can't believe this. Aunt Sylvia married to a Russian drug dealer?” He shook his head. “This doesn't make any sense.” He shrugged. “I mean, I've met this guy and would have never guessed he was dealing—or hanging out in gay bars. At first I thought it was weird she married some guy young enough to be her grandson but then figured, hey, more power to you, Sylvia.” He clicked his tongue. “No, this doesn't make sense.”
“No, it doesn't,” I agreed with him, a little smugly. At least I wasn't the only one who couldn't make sense of it.
“Well, we need to talk to her.” He glanced at his watch. “It's almost eight. Probably a little too early to head over there.” He looked at the printout again. “Just where did you get this?”
“I hacked into the INS database,” Colin replied, with a satisfied smile.
Storm groaned. “I didn't hear that, I didn't hear that, I didn't hear that.” He shook his head, but then a sly smile spread across his face. “But that means the police won't be able to get this information for a while. They'll have to go through official channels, so we've got a leg up on 'em.” He held up his hands. “Of course, there's no reason for us to pursue this. Maybe we should just call Venus and tip her off.”

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