“Nope.” He’d asked me that ten times in the last hour. I’d had enough. I waved at the one-way mirror and pointed at my Coke can. “Can I have a refill here? The service in this joint is awful.” I looked at the chief. “No tip, this time, Billy.” Back at the mirror, I yelled, “You guys got all my money. Put some into a machine for me, would you?”
Billy shifted on the hard table. He was sitting on the edge, trying to tower over me, trying to use height to cow me. And though I’d never say so, it was working, sorta. I was six feet tall in my bare feet. In boots I was way taller than most men, and wasn’t used to them looming over me. So I shrank down lower in my seat, slumping, and stuck my feet out the other side. I held the empty can up again, flicking it with a fingernail, making it tink.
After a long, tinking moment, he said, “You’re a pain in the ass, Yellowrock.”
“Ditto, Billy. Why don’t you sit in a chair. The table has to be making your butt numb. Is my lawyer here yet?” The B-Twins had promised to send one, when the cops dragged me off.
“He’s here.” Billy sounded frustrated. Maybe he needed more fiber in his diet; fewer doughnuts, though he wasn’t overweight, just soft around the middle. “You’re free to go.”
“No, ‘Don’t leave town,’ advice?”
“Far as I’m concerned, you can leave town again and not come back. Things are more peaceful without you around.”
“Only on the surface, Billy Boy. Monsters swim in the deep dark depths.”
He cursed under his breath, and stood as a man entered. I checked the hairline and said, “Brandon.” Then it clicked. “You’re the lawyer you promised me.”
“Graduate of Tulane Law, LLM, in 1946.” He pretended not to see the chief’s double take, and he smelled of the truth. Brandon really was an attorney. “And while I don’t practice in North Carolina, I do have privileges, pro hac vice,” he said, as if that meant something to me. “But to make sure all your ‘I’s are dotted, I brought along a friend.”
A female blood-servant walked in behind him, not someone I knew, but she smelled like Lincoln Shaddock’s blood, expensive perfume, money, and entitlement. She was taller than me, which made me uncomfortable for some reason, blond with perfect makeup and flawless skin, an innate elegance, and she was wearing a tailor-made silk suit. I crossed my arms over my T-shirted chest and nodded from my slouched position. She nodded from her superior one and twinkled blue eyes at Billy. “Thank you, Chief. We appreciate you expediting the release of Miss Yellowrock.” She put out her hand as if she expected him to kiss it.
Billy Chandler blinked and melted even as he sucked in his soft belly and pushed back his shoulders. He took her hand and smiled. “Ms. Mooney, you have always been an asset to this department and this city. Anything we can do, within reason and the law, is always our pleasure. And you pass that along to your mother, you hear? Anything.”
Yeah, like he had a chance with the woman. And what was with the royal “we”? And wait. Mooney? Shaddock’s heir was Dacy Mooney. I straightened and looked the blood-servant over.
“Dacy is well aware of local law enforcement’s appreciation for her generosity.”
“That in-unit computer upgrade has made a vast difference to the cop on the street.”
“We have to protect the boys in blue,” she said, twinkling at him, and gently removing her hand from his grip.
“Yada yada,” I said, standing. “It’s nearly dark, I’ve had no sleep to speak of for days, I’ve been invaded, shot at”—and shot a man, my heart whispered—“been dragged down to the LEC, and kept without food and water, and I’m ready to get outta here.”
Mooney flashed me a wide smile and gestured to the door. I led the way into the hallway, passing by the lady lawyer. She looked like a million bucks. A Paris Hilton, if Paris had unfeigned self-assurance and molecular-deep class. Her suit was form-fitted, her bag was snakeskin, and her hair was twisted up in a sleek French twist. She smelled great. I disliked her intensely for it. Which made me feel all kinds of guilty, and angry for the guilt. “Miss Yellowrock, it’s an honor to meet you,” she said as I passed.
I swallowed down my retort and the sigh that wanted to follow. In the hallway I turned, tucked my jealousy away into some hidden part of me, and put out my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” I managed not to sound grudging, which was unexpected and satisfying.
We shook and she said, “My car is outside. We can speak there.”