The List

“Jesus Christ. How did this shit happen?” Worth was angry. I could see he was strategizing logistics and options again. “Here, let me show you how this security system works.”


I gave Ford to Betsy to bathe and feed him my pumped milk before putting him to bed then followed Worth through the house and his overview of the wiring, the remotes, and the cameras.

“I don’t like having cameras in the house,” I said.

“You think I do?” He was exasperated. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. It occurred to me that if this was a stranger, Worth would just turn him over to the authorities for stalking. Linc, however, had secrets to spill and that made him dangerous, if not untouchable.

“Worth, we have to do something about this. We can’t let this man run our entire lives from here on out.”

“I’m already working on that,” he said, his voice reassuring, his eyes filled with promise.

“What are you doing?” I wasn’t stupid, but I was desperate. I needed to know.

His face closed up and he turned away. “The less you know, the better off you’ll be.”

Fear spiraled through me and I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I was afraid you’d say something like that.” Then I was in his arms, hugging him for all I was worth.





CHAPTER FOUR

Worth

I was having a drink at Joe’s, my favorite hangout. It was frequented by everyone who was anyone in the equine industry — at least the males. A sort of holdout where traditional rules and old money still carried weight, it smelled of tobacco, whiskey, and moth-eaten tweed jackets. The more a man looked like a hobo, the older his money. Joe’s sat beneath the Third Street Bridge in an area affected by the overwhelmed Ohio River in the flood of ’37 that left a million people homeless. Seventy percent of the city had been under water and you could still see the stains of the waterline on the walls; a sort of badge of survival and a preamble to many a “I remember back when…” story. Joe’s was not given to gossip. It was a dark cave of back-slapping deals with a complete disregard for elected officials. Every time I walked in there, I felt like I was entering a conspiracy.

Louisville had played a key role during Prohibition; a result of its existing industry of whiskey production and the less legal moonshining that made its way up from the Appalachian foothills. Beneath its brick streets lay a web of secret tunnels, alert buttons and spring-loaded doors where the elite could drink and gamble without detection. It was said that at one time, mail carriers could deliver mail to almost any business in town without setting foot on ground level. Its history was directly tied to the bootlegging industry from the north, a favorite source of income for those who routinely flaunted the law. While the players of that era were long gone, their progeny was not. Being the son of a son-of-a-bitch came with bragging rights. Where better to do a little subtle investigation? Not even Bill was welcomed in Joe’s.

I spotted exactly the man I’d come to see. Earl Kinsey and I went way back to grade school days. We were the class troublemakers and often found ourselves sitting side by side in the principal’s office. We’d been to the same parties and I wouldn’t doubt we’d shared a few of the same girls over the years. Earl’s father was well-known as a bootlegger. Even now, a good part of Kentucky was dry but that didn’t mean people didn’t drink. They just didn’t talk about it.

“Hey, Earl,” I began, settling on the stool next to his.

“Well, goddammit, if it’s not Worth LaViere. Holy shit, man, how have you been?” He was authentically glad to see me. I was lucky to have caught him here, for he was seldom in town.

I patted him on the back. “Good to see you too, Earl.” I grinned and bought us a couple of drinks. We reminisced for a while about old times and old hijinks, certain that we were the only two kids in history who had ever been so clever. Little did we realize at the time that it was only the fear of our fathers that had protected us from the authorities.

“Listen, Earl, need to talk about something serious for a minute. Between us, right?”

He grew immediately serious. “Hey, Worth, what’s wrong? Of course. How can I help?”

I lowered my voice. This was not for public consumption. “My old man and yours — well, let’s say they didn’t always stay local for everything they did.”

“I get you.” He nodded, puffing on a thin Cuban.

“Well, seems like I’ve inherited a bit of trouble with the boys up north and since I’ve never dealt with them, I’m not sure what to do about it.”

Earl was still nodding. He understood exactly who I was talking about. “Buddy, all I can say is to tread gently. Things are different now than they were when Dad was in the game. There’s drugs, slavery, weapons and all sorts of shit. We don’t have any pull any more. They’ll smash you like an ant if you get in their way, you know?”

I knew exactly — and that was the problem.

“Are they reaching out to you here?” he asked me bluntly.

My lip wrinkled up as I considered how to answer that.

“Never mind. The look on your face says it all, Worth,” he observed and drew again on the cigar. “Look, the old man’s contacts are gone, just like him. My advice to you is to stay out of reach. Don’t make yourself a target. They’ll self-destruct eventually. They always do. Greed and power eat them alive.”

I nodded. “That’s some pretty sound advice, my friend. Just not sure how long I can hold out.”

“As long as it takes. As long as it fuckin’ takes,” he said, emptied his drink and patted me on the back as he left.

***

I was glad I talked with Earl. It had helped to put things into perspective. I was so busy scaring the shit out of myself, I didn’t take into consideration that nothing had or might ever happen. My life was just as calm and nourishing as it had been the day before Linc LaViere rose from his grave.

I’d just opened a clinic in Cincinnati after choosing a little different venue for this one — inside a chic department store downtown. My market research told me that my clients were primarily female, over thirty and had a sustained income in the six figures. This matched the demographics for the department store and its six-story location in the center of town.