Women of the Otherworld 10.5 - Counterfeit Magic (10 page)

The fighter grabbed Tommy by the shirtfront.

“Uh-oh,” Savannah murmured. “That’s not smart.”

Tommy didn’t throw a punch. He just let the younger fighter put him up against the wall,
then
calmly said, “Okay, you got me. If you want, you can throw me down and tell everyone you beat me, and I won’t argue. Is that what you want, Max?”

“I want you in the ring,
Gallante
.”

“Well, it’s not happening. I concede to your superior skills. Now, if you’ll excuse me, a couple of pretty girls just walked in, and I really hope they’re looking for me.”

Max dropped Tommy hard enough to make him stagger. He recovered his balance, then flashed us a big smile and strolled over as if nothing had happened.

“Hey, ladies,” he said. “Ethan said you were coming to see me. Paige and Savannah, right?”

“That’s right,” I said, extending a hand.

We did proper introductions, but I was sure his brother had already told him who we really were and why we were there. He took us into an empty office and ran through his encounter with Jared. He gave more details, but in essence, it matched his brother’s story.

“So, you’re the club enforcer,” Savannah said when he finished. “You like doing that?”

He looked from her to me,
then
sighed. “Okay, what did Ethan say? No, let me guess. He told you I hate it.”

“You don’t?”

“
Mmm
, let’s just say it’s not my favorite part of the job. But it
is
my job. It’s a bit of an ongoing dispute between me and my brother. He knows I don’t like it, so he wants to have one of our boys take over. How would that reflect on me as the club’s top fighter? I need to play the heavy, even if it’s not my favorite role.”

“We saw that,” I said, nodding toward the ring.

Tommy shifted. “Yeah, well, that’s how it goes. You’re the lead
fighter,
everyone wants a piece of you. In the club, we can control it. Here? I don’t have time for guys like Max.”

“You handled it well,” I said. “Not many fighters could step down like that. This sport runs on adrenaline.”

“Not adrenaline.” He slid off the desk and waved us to the window overlooking the ring. Inside, Max was pummeling another opponent. “You look at his face, what do you see?
Adrenaline?”

I watched for a minutes. “No, I see anger.
Rage.
And that’s what you don’t have. It’s why you’re not comfortable being the club’s enforcer, and it’s why Ethan stopped you from going pro.”

Tommy laughed. “Heard that story, have you?
My evil older brother squashing my dreams?
Yes, he was concerned. Yes, I’m sure he wanted to discourage me. But he never did.”

He crossed to a poster on the wall, advertising a bout between him and another former school champion. “
This
is what I’m good at. High school matches, where technique is what counts. When I tried a few pro bouts, I discovered I was missing something most fighters have. Drive.”

He sat on the desk again. “Not the drive to win, but the drive to pummel a stranger into hamburger. When a guy fights me in the ring, I’m going to give it everything I’ve got, then I’m going to ask him out for a beer after. It’s just a game to me. Once you hit the pro stage, it’s not like that anymore. You’re up against guys who are mad at the world, like Max.”

“But you still can’t escape your reputation,” I said. “It’s not just other fighters like Max who pester you, is it?” I mentioned the man I’d seen him talking to the night before.

“Promoter.
They don’t come after me that often anymore, but this guy heard…” He trailed off and shrugged.
“Stupid rumor about the club.
Nothing to it.”

Were people figuring out that the
Gallantes
seemed a little accident prone?

Savannah missed the cue and barreled forward. “So Ethan didn’t make you go to college. But he couldn’t resist using you to open a club.”

This time, Tommy’s laugh boomed through the room.
“Using me.
Right.
That Ethan, it’s all about him.” He shook his head. “The club was my idea, too. Ethan fully supported it. Even took out a mortgage on our parents’ home to set it up. Yeah, maybe there’s a little guilt there—he wonders if I chose college to make him happy—but if anyone did the manipulating, it was me.” He grinned. “That’s the power of being a little brother.”

* * * *

“Okay, I’ve solved the case,” Savannah said as we walked out of the club.
“Well, not our case, because I have no idea who killed Jared Cookson, and frankly, I don’t care.
He sounds like a little snot.”

I sighed.

“What? You’re thinking the same thing. You just can’t say it because that would be wrong. Forget Jared for now. I know who’s killing the fighters. The same brother who wants the club shut down. Only it isn’t Tommy.”

“Ethan?”

“Obviously.
Yeah, I know Tommy was teasing about manipulating him, but there’s truth there, too. Ethan raises the kid. Maybe expects it to pay off when Tommy goes pro. Only he
wimps out and goes
to college—”

“That’s hardly
wimping
out.”

“Whatever. Point is
,
Ethan lost his ticket to the high life.
Probably got stuck with the tuition bill to boot.
Then Tommy
guilts
him into opening the club.
It’s more hassle than Ethan wants. He’s risking jail time for a business that might barely turn a profit. He’s spent twenty years taking care of his brother. The guy hasn’t even moved out of the house yet, for God’s sake. Now Ethan’s had enough.
Time to make the club dream go poof.”

She rounded the corner, striding to our car and glowering at two school-age kids checking it out. When one reached for the door handle, she zapped him with a small energy bolt. He fell back with a yelp and they took off.

She clicked the fob to open our doors. “People have caught wind of the deaths.
First that promoter, then the blackmailer.
He has evidence that a brother is involved, and has heard the rumor that Ethan forced Tommy out of the biz so he presumes Tommy’s behind it. But who’s more likely to have found a way to kill those guys from across the room?
The fighter?
Or the paramedic?”

I climbed into the car. When I still hadn’t said anything and we were pulling from the lot, Savannah glanced over. “You disagree.”

“Let’s just say I’m not convinced. I think it’s a little coincidental that a fighter died last night, when we were there, and that Ethan got a blackmail call just as we’re walking toward his house.”

“You think Ethan isn’t the only one who made us?”

“I think Lucas isn’t the only one reaching the stage where he needs to presume most supernaturals know who he is.”

Follow the Money

As we headed to the hotel, my phone beeped, reminding me I had a message. It’d come in while we were with Tommy, but I’d forgotten to check afterward. Now I read Lucas’s text.

“Well, I’m pretty sure the
Gallantes
had nothing to do with Jared’s death,” I said when I finished.

“What?”

I motioned for Savannah to keep driving,
then
sent back a response and a question. The answer came in seconds.

“Lucas is on his way to L.A., but he just got a call-back from one of Jared’s friends. The last time he saw Jared was the day
after
Jared left the fight club.”

“Maybe Tommy hadn’t found him yet.”

“No, he had. Jared was trying to reduce the swelling from a black eye and complaining about a loose tooth.”

“So he was fine after the beating. But maybe he went back to the club looking for revenge, and a second beating got him killed.”

“Possible. Yet according to the friend, Jared was more frightened than angry. Something—or someone—had him very scared. I think I know what it was.”

I started a reply to Lucas.

“Going to share?” Savannah said as I texted.

“Why did Tommy go after Jared?”

“To teach the brat a lesson.”

“No. Not really.”

As she turned a corner, she checked her mirrors for anyone tailing us.
“To get back the money.
Which he did.
Meaning Jared had nothing left to pay off his debts.”

“Exactly.”

* * * *

At the hotel, I took a good hard look at Ethan and Tommy
Gallante
, harder than I had earlier, when I thought they were just a step along the path in retracing Jared’s final days. I conducted the kind of background check that disputed Savannah’s assertion about our squeaky clean business. What we run is an
effective
business and sometimes that takes creative and ethically questionable applications of my computer skills.

“The club is profitable,” I said after I’d done my research. “The brothers paid off that mortgage a year after taking it out. Tommy bought his truck last year without taking a loan. The Mercedes is older, but no loans there either. No lines of credit at all. These guys even pay off their cards every month. They aren’t multimillionaires, but they certainly aren’t in debt.”

“Okay, so no financial motivation to shut down the club. Maybe Ethan just wants out. Get
his own
life. Leave California. Marry, have kids. Only he’s tied to his brother through an illegal business. Tommy’s not going to let him leave easily. Christ, the guy still lives with him. Imagine how you’ll feel if I’m still leaving gobs of toothpaste in your sink a decade from now.”

“Tommy hasn’t always lived at home. He went to college in Texas.”

“Okay, so he moved out for a couple of years—”

“Then came back to Santa Cruz and rented an apartment, where he lived until he got married and bought a condo with his wife.”

“Wife?”

“Soon to be ex-wife.”
I tapped the computer screen. “The divorce is almost final. After they filed, Tommy moved in with Ethan while his wife stayed in the condo. We know Tommy’s not a fighter at heart. Ethan probably insisted he move back in until the divorce was done, to avoid putting him through the hassle of bickering over the condo.”

“Damn.
Blows my theory out of the water.
What about the wife, then? Could she be sabotaging the business?”

“If she knew her ex was running an illegal fight club and she wanted revenge, it would be a lot easier just to notify the authorities.”

“True. Okay, so if it’s not Ethan and it’s not Tommy, who the hell is it?”

“I think it’s time to ask them that.”

* * * *

The
Gallantes
weren’t at the club when we arrived, so we parked down the road and waited. They arrived later in the afternoon. We gave them time to get in and settled, then followed, and found them right where they’d been the day before—Ethan on his laptop and Tommy working out, push-ups this time.

Tommy rose as we entered. “I’m hoping you’re here to talk about that bout Ethan suggested.
You and me.
Make a
helluva
fight. But I have a feeling that’s not it.”

Ethan stepped out of his office. “Tommy didn’t kill that boy. Neither of us did.”

“We’re not here to talk about Jared’s death,” Savannah said. “We’re here to talk about Davy’s.”