The Violet Hour, page 15
His heart thudded at the memory, chest tightened, one thought alone sending his body back into that state. He coughed to clear his throat, reached for the coffee that had grown cold some time ago, but the last slug of it eased his dry mouth enough for him to speak. “Because I said I would help and I meant it.”
From the corner of his eye he saw her turn back to the windshield, saying nothing. Perhaps because she knew, like he did, that wasn’t the reason either.
He had acted the way he did because for a moment back there, sitting outside the bathroom while she took a shower – steam seeping out from under the doorway, his attention fixed on the piece of light coming in through the window – he had felt the four walls closing in, the trap opening up again. And he had known that the instant he fell into it he would be helpless. No Fletcher to the rescue. No law enforcement to have his back. Not even Jimmy. And so he’d done the only thing that right then he still could. He’d run like hell.
Chapter 18
Hoss made the call from his cell phone in a Walmart parking lot two miles outside of Pinefort. He had put considerable distance between Vivian and her presumably former flame, but now he needed to find somewhere she could rest and then maybe tell him what the hell last night was all about. Only once on the journey had he brought up the topic of her father, and the look she had given him negated further discussion. So for the moment calling Jimmy was out of the question. Besides, what was really required in this situation was someone with a level head.
“Do you know what time it is?” were her first words when she picked up his call.
“Are you home?” he asked, looking through the rear windshield of the Focus to where Vivian sat in the front, her feet in his oversized socks pulled up onto the seat.
“Yes, I live here,” she said dryly.
“Are you alone?”
There was an intake of breath. Then a pause, as if she was about to say something but changed her mind. “What is it?”
“Are you or not?”
“I am. What’s this about?”
“Good. That’s good. This won’t take long. Look, I’m on my way over. I’ll be about thirty minutes.”
On the passenger seat Vivian turned to peer over her shoulder at him.
“Oh, and I have someone with me. But I’ll explain when I get there. I promise.”
He disconnected the call and got back behind the wheel. She was going to crucify him for this. But the more he’d thought about it the last couple of hours, the more it made sense. That perhaps the reason for Vivian’s silence was because what she really needed was another woman to speak to. And if anyone could get Vivian talking, it would be Fletcher.
*
Hoss was glad he’d told Vivian to wait in the car. His partner had something she needed to get out of her system and it was better that he was the only one to hear it. She didn’t raise her voice or animate her words with hand gestures, so from the other side of the windshield Vivian would think they were having a civilized conversation. Maybe she was even curious about the curly-haired blonde on the porch of this cabin in the middle of nowhere – that was what Hoss read in the tilt of her head when he glanced over at her. One woman gauging another and calculating the threat. Whatever answer she came up with, Hoss could guarantee it differed from his. He was standing at the bottom of the porch steps only six feet from the threat, and he knew it well enough by now to interpret the unflinching attention of those icy blue eyes, even after his lengthy and rehearsed explanation for this turn of events, was not at all affectionate.
“I couldn’t take her to the apartment,” he added, tempering his voice and doing an okay job of it considering he’d just driven for four hours on barely any sleep and a massive adrenalin dump hangover.
“No, you definitely couldn’t do that,” Fletcher said, as calm as the surface of the ocean far beneath which a tectonic shift was taking place. She hadn’t even looked to the passenger sitting in the rental car since he’d pulled up and got out, nor did she now as she quietly, on bare feet, went back inside the cabin leaving both the screen door and the inner door open. He stared after her for a moment as she disappeared into the kitchen, then turned to where Vivian was waiting and waved for her to come out.
On the approach to the cabin, Hoss had explained to Vivian that Cass Fletcher was a private investigator, the same as him. That she was his business partner and could be trusted. He didn’t tell her that their arrival would push that trust, or that it wasn’t the first time he had tested it. There may have been a good reason Fletch liked her own space, sometimes cutting herself off for months at a time to get her head in order, but there was also a better reason she had once been a cop and why she was a PI now. Justice mattered to her. Like it mattered to him. More than that, she got a kick out of it. And it was that innate instinct he depended on as he led a bruised and exhausted Vivian Rosedale, Jimmy’s daughter, inside the home that Fletch’s beloved and wholly lawful grandfather had lived in until the day he died.
Fletch was at the stove with her back to them when Hoss made the introductions. Not that it mattered, because Vivian wasn’t taking any notice. Despite her exhaustion, her eyes widened as she took in the cabin, from the open-plan kitchen, to the hallway that led to the bathroom and bedroom. The living room with its simple furniture, a fabric two-seater gray sofa with cushions, a low coffee table. And beneath the window with its view of the forest, a neat square dining table and two wooden chairs. Fletch had little else. No TV, no gaming equipment or stereo setup, no ornaments or decor, but Vivian seemed fascinated by the place all the same.
“Sit down,” the reluctant host said over her shoulder. “Food will be ready in five.”
In his clothes too large for her, Vivian stepped up to trace her fingers over the wood mantelpiece, beneath which the logs in the modern burner were lit. Hoss had never really noticed before that the place seemed almost cozy. He turned to Fletch, but her back was to him again and she worked busily at the stove. So instead he closed the screen door, crossed to the sofa in the living room and dropped onto the end cushion with his jacket still on.
The heat coming from the burner, the gentle crackle of the logs, clatter of plates being arranged in the kitchen, all of it together made his eyes sting. He propped his elbow on the sofa arm, pressing his fingers to his eyes just for a second. He may have brought them some distance from Palmrey Beach, but this wasn’t over, not by a long shot. And even when it was, he’d have to explain himself to Fletch. Again. Right now though all he wanted to do was sleep.
*
“Hoss!”
He jumped at the sound of his name, almost reached for his hip but caught himself in time. Old habit. There was no gun there. He had left it under the seat in the rental.
Fletch was standing nonplussed beside him, holding out a plate of pancakes and scrambled eggs.
“Shit, sorry,” he mumbled, shuffling upright and taking the plate and cutlery from her. “Must have nodded off. Thanks.”
He tried to catch her eye but she was already returning to the kitchen. Looking around for Vivian instead, he found her behind him at the dining table, chewing slowly as she stared through the window at the view. What she saw and what she was thinking were anyone’s guess.
Fletch returned with a coffee for each of them, including herself, then curled her legs beneath her on the sofa cushion furthest from him and sipped from her mug while the two of them ate. Hoss hadn’t thought he’d be able to stomach anything, but he must have been hungry, because after the first bite he didn’t pause for breath until the plate was cleared. A glance over his shoulder told him that Vivian was getting through hers well enough, too. That was typical of Fletcher, to know what they needed even before they did. But it was less about hospitality and more about patience. She knew she wouldn’t get anything helpful out of Vivian until she made her feel she was the one in control. Fletch was smarter than him with things like that. The profiling she had done with the FBI may have taught her the technicalities, given her the certificates, but Hoss always felt it was a skill that didn’t come from reading books or taking courses. Reading people was just what she was good at. Which he guessed was both a blessing and a curse. For her and everyone else.
When Vivian laid down her knife and fork, Hoss got up from the sofa, thanked Fletch a second time for the food, and took their plates over to the sink. He turned on the faucet, waiting for the water coming through the pipes to heat up.
“It’s really lovely here,” he heard Vivian say, and looked over to see her doing another circle of the room, the mug of coffee in her hand. She had pushed the sleeves of his hoody up over her elbows, and it couldn’t have been a more different picture to the one of her in full makeup, Lycra dress, and stilettos. Aside from the black birds in flight up her throat, this was probably more the Vivian that Jimmy would recognize.
“It was my grandfather’s,” Fletch said, as Vivian stopped beside the mantelpiece. “I inherited it.”
“That’s quite a gift.”
There was sincerity in the young woman’s voice, maybe even awe, and as Hoss rinsed the breakfast dishes and pans he wondered about her own grandfather. He knew little about Jimmy’s background and didn’t care to know, but he’d hazard a guess Jimmy Senior was no angel. Maybe he’d passed on himself by now, or maybe Jimmy didn’t know where he was or even who he was; either way, whatever Vivian inherited from her bloodline – legally, genetically, or otherwise – was unlikely to be anything she wanted. So in that sense, being handed a Jenga house in the center of a goddamn forest probably would seem appealing.
Hoss shivered at the thought as he wiped his hands dry on a dish towel just as Fletch finished telling Vivian how her father and grandfather had built this place by hand and how much she’d loved it as a kid. Every calm word she spoke, every gesture, every soft smile was another opportunity to put Vivian at ease, let her know there was no competition for status here.
“I’ve never been in a real cabin before,” Vivian said, lowering herself to sit cross-legged on the rug in front of the log burner.
“Neither had I before this one,” Hoss chimed in, dropping down again onto the sofa and retrieving his mug from the coffee table. He held it close to his mouth, comforted by the warmth of the steam coming off it. “City boy through and through.”
Vivian’s dark eyes shifted from Fletch to him. “Sand rat all the way. I couldn’t breathe without the ocean,” she said. “Although I think I could get used to something like this.”
“Seriously?” Hoss teased. “Only weird people wouldn’t get creeped out by living here.”
Hoss winked at Vivian and sipped at the milky sweet coffee, purposely avoiding looking at the woman to his right. But Vivian was too far lost in her head to be humored. He could see that even before she pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, and before the spark in her eyes of a moment ago was robbed by the same dullness he had seen in them last night. It unnerved him as much now as it had then.
“Guess you wanna know what happened,” she said to Fletcher first, but then her gaze drifted his way. “The second I walked back into Fabrizio’s I knew I’d made a mistake. I knew I should have gone with you.”
Chapter 19
A heavy, repetitive muffled bass thudded through the thin walls in time with the blood rushing through her ears, the heat crawling up her throat, and the tremulous pulse of something uneasy prickling along her nerve endings. Vivian stared at her reflection in the restroom mirror and adjusted her dark curls over her left shoulder. From her right shoulder she brushed the hair away, touched her fingers to the black wings of the birds tattooed on her skin, less than a year old. Freedom. That’s what birds in flight were meant to symbolize. But she was no more free now than she had ever been.
Tears welled in her eyes and she glared at them. That’s not what this was, she reminded herself, she wasn’t really trapped. Like Ike had said, everyone had a part to play, and this was hers. It didn’t matter that her part was not the one he thought it was, she would go on pretending and complying until she had everything she needed and then she would make her move. But patience was required. This was a long game. She had understood that from the moment Ike made a play for her ten months ago when she’d first visited Reegan’s. She’d just been passing through Palmrey at the time, still weighing up her options. But the following morning, as she lay beside him in his bed and watched him sleep, knowing by then who he was, what kind of influence he had, one option shone brighter than all the rest. A golden opportunity. And ever since then he’d been putty in her hands.
Did she care about him? She wished she didn’t.
Did that mean she was losing sight of her goal?
Her eyes hardened the longer she stared at herself, and she brought to mind her father; she always thought of him when she needed reminding. No, she would never lose sight of her goal. Men would come and go, Ike included, but they were a stepping stone, that was all.
The door to the washroom opened and in the mirror Vivian watched one of the dancers from Reegan’s step into the room. The woman would be tall even without the stiletto heels, her shoulders and hips broad, her hair flame-red, from which she got her nickname.
“Hey, Red. Don’t usually see you over here.” Vivian said it casually, reaching in her purse for her lipstick, but for a second she wondered if this had anything to do with the message from the private detective that Red had given her yesterday. Wondered if here again was another message she didn’t want. But then in the reflection she caught sight of the breath that expanded the woman’s chest and the soft exhale before she replied.
“I was required here tonight,” she said, with a polite smile just before she closed the door on the toilet stall.
No further explanation needed. No bitching about the boss and his requirements either, not in front of the boss’s old lady. That was the downside to this part she played – it was hard to connect with anyone when they were all watching their step around her. Sometimes she wanted to scream at them that she wasn’t a blind Ike Scott devotee, she wouldn’t run to him with every piece of gossip she overheard. Far from it. She wasn’t his bitch, she wasn’t anyone’s bitch, and one day they’d all see that.
Required here tonight. Red’s words replayed in her mind as she touched up her lips with the scarlet gloss she applied with her little finger, maneuvering around the diamond stud.
You and me both, Red. You and me both.
*
The club was crowded. It always was. Tickets only, and being in possession of one was like a rite of passage. Everyone wanted an invitation to Ike Scott’s exclusive nightclub. Not for what it offered, it was a club the same as any other, but because if you were in Ike’s club you were in with Ike. And for a youngster in Palmrey Beach, that was the kind of golden handshake that could take you far. Getting into Fabrizio’s was a more practical career move than spending three years busting a gut over a college degree. It would open more doors, and quicker. Vivian would find it amusing if she herself wasn’t doing the same thing, just at a much higher level. She wasn’t pandering to Ike’s ego just to get tickets or get a job. Not even to get money, although that would be a useful by-product now that she’d cut herself off from the old man. No, she was going after a bigger opportunity than that, a better seat at the table, one that would wipe the indignant righteousness from her father’s face. But it meant kissing a lot of frogs first to get there.
Vivian lifted her chin and painted on a smile as she strode through the club looking for Ike, her spiked heels sinking into the plush carpet. She put a sway in her hips to the music streaming through the speakers, waving when she saw a group of familiar faces seated around a table on her right. The five males, three of them old enough to be her father, the fourth young but arrogant, and the fifth young but gay, hollered and gestured for her to come over, then slouched in their seats when she mouthed “Later”. She faked a laugh at their fake disappointment and moved on. They worked for Ramon Hernandez, the Greens’ longstanding Colombian suppliers of coke and – in more recent years, under Ike’s direction – heroin. Vivian suspected it didn’t stop there either. There had been two fatal overdoses of fentanyl in Palmrey Beach in the last month alone, and only so many places the highly dangerous drug could have come from.
The men’s appearance explained why Red was here tonight. A private dance in the lounge out back. Maybe more if Ike hoped to renegotiate terms. Their prices had been steadily rising in the years since Teddy’s death and Ike was paranoid and losing patience. He figured they were doing it because Teddy was gone and they thought they could get away with it. Maybe that was true in part, but he also knew nothing about inflation or how business worked. Vivian had to bite her tongue; she wasn’t about to teach him otherwise. Let him rant. Let him make rash decisions and lose everything Teddy had built. In truth, someone like Ike didn’t deserve to be seated where he was. But if the rumors were accurate, and she had no reason to doubt them, Teddy had written his will while his business sense was momentarily eclipsed by his feelings. He might as well have pulled the plug on the organization there and then, because in a cutthroat industry it was the worst business decision he ever made.
“Babe.”
A hand landed on her arm. She almost lost her footing, but Ike’s grip was tight as he drew her to him. In the disco lights flashing over his Ray-Bans she saw her own reflection. Like a startled bird.
Ike bent his neck and brought his lips to her ear. “He’s in my office. I need you to keep him busy for a while.”
He must have felt her stiffen because he tugged at her arm, his fingers pinched. “Listen, listen. I won’t be long. Get him a drink or whatever he wants. Talk to him, please him, anything, whatever you’ve got to do. Just hold him there until I get back. It’s really important he doesn’t leave.”
