“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. Hoping to figure it out.”
He looked at her for a long moment, as if weighing whether she was telling the truth. Finally he nodded and let her into the club.
“We’re in mourning, Detective. We lost two friends today.”
“I understand. I’ll be respectful, I promise.”
Micki circulated through the club. Some were resentful of her presence, others suspicious. Most ignored her or were blatantly rude.
She didn’t belong. They were angry. And hurting.
Micki slid onto a barstool. The bartender looked so much like Tom Cruise she did a double take. “Can I get an ice water?” she asked.
“Sure.” A moment later, he set the glass in front of her. “Tough crowd.”
“I don’t blame them. I’m an intrusion.”
“Then why’re you here?”
“My own peace of mind.”
“I’m Jack, by the way.”
“Micki Dare. Good to meet you.” She eyed his martini. “Cosmo?”
“I’m not working.” He lifted his glass. “Want one?”
“I am working.”
He sipped the pink drink. “Actually, these were Cherry’s favorite. I’m celebrating her.”
“Cherry’s not the one who’s dead.”
“No, but she won’t be drinking one for a very long time.” He twirled the glass; the motion created a swirling, pink tornado. He stopped abruptly and the liquid sloshed over the side. “We were friends, Cherry and I.”
“Were?”
“Are,” he corrected. “Although it seems like that’s ending now as well.” He took a sip, then another. “We liked the same things. Saints football, mystery novels. Stuff like that.”
“Cherry ever talk about Desiree?”
“Some.”
“Did she seem angry at her?”
“Not at her. More frustrated at always being second banana. The situation did sort of suck. But no big deal. We all get frustrated, right?”
“Right.”
“I don’t think Cherry did it.”
Micki looked at him in surprise. “Even though she admitted she did?”
“Yeah, even though.”
“Okay, make a believer out of me. You have a theory?”
“Mind control.”
She almost laughed, choking it back at the last moment. “You’re not serious.”
“Maybe somebody brainwashed him. That kind of shit happens.”
“On TV.”
“In real life,” he countered. “Ever watch Fox News?”
She laughed at his attempt at humor. “Okay, I’ll bite. You have somebody in mind?”
“Cherry’s shrink maybe. There was something about her I didn’t like. Not at all.”
“Cherry was seeing a psychiatrist?”
“Who doesn’t?”
She didn’t, not anymore. Though she’d been told on more than one occasion she should. Usually about the time the word crazy was uttered immediately with the word bitch.
“Do you know what Cherry was seeing this shrink about?”
“Same thing we all do: our demons.” She cocked an eyebrow in question and he went on, “C’mon, Detective, you can’t guess? Our lifestyle comes with a lot of baggage. We don’t fit the two cars, two kids, house in the burbs model. Or any of the other socially ‘acceptable’ ones for that matter. Our model comes with rejection, bullying and, for some of us, physical violence.” He paused. “Even from our own families.”
Sad as it was, she knew it was true. “This shrink—you got a name?”
“Yeah. Renee Blackwood.”
Renee Blackwood.
That was it. The connection between the two crimes.
Vanderlund and Chablis had both been seeing the same shrink.
Chapter Twelve
10:30 P.M.
Micki dialed Carmine from the car. He answered, sounding sleepy.
“Dr. Renee Blackwood,” she said. “That’s the connection.”
“Dare? That you?”
“Yes, it’s Dare. Wake up, Carmine, this changes everything!”
He yawned. “Then you better hit me with it again.”
“Vanderlund and Chablis were seeing the same shrink. Dr. Renee Blackwood.”
She heard a rustling in the background, as if Carmine was climbing out of bed. Then the definite sound of the phone being shifted from one ear to the other. “I don’t get it.”
“The two perps, their paths did cross.”
“Okay, so we add that to the growing list of coincidences.”
“That’s total bullshit. We need to question Blackwood as soon as possible.”
“You’re out of your mind. It’s the Friday before Mardi Gras, there’re a hundred fifty thousand extra party animals in town and any manner of crazy shit could erupt at any time. I’m catching some sleep while I can.”
“These murders weren’t random. They’re not unrelated.”
“We have two perps in jail. I’m going back to bed.”
“No! Angelo, wait—”
“Get yourself some sleep, Dare. You need it.”
Then he hung up.