Quintic (44 page)

Ham motioned
to her. “That’s the one who saw Lemieux fight with
someone.”

Lemieux
might have been a shadow,
but women remembered him nonetheless. The guy had been a hunk.
Unfortunately.

Guys and Their
Work

“H
i, Bunny. Remember me?” Ham
took the floor, flashing the badge while talking and smiling. “I
brought you the big boss. You think you can talk to him about the
picture I showed you?”

“
Hello
, I’m Chief Detective Chris
James MacLaren.” Chris offered Bunny his hand. “Please, just call
me Chris. It’s nice to meet you, Bunny.” Bunny, Candy, Sandy,
ridiculous names but anyway. “Ham told me you’ve been most
helpful.”

H
e gave the woman a gentle,
non-threatening smile, looking straight into her eyes and her eyes
only. She seemed to like that.

“
You think
I
can maybe take a few minutes of your
time?” The girl nodded, and he started his shit. “I’m Officer
Hamilton and Officer Charles’s boss.” He pointed at his guys
without taking his eyes off Bunny’s face. “Ham told me about the
conversation you two had. By the way, very sharp of you to
recognise the guy.” He paused and smiled some more. Ham, standing
at the dancer’s back, smirked over her shoulder.
Asshole.

“
I thought
it was importa
nt I come and talk to you
in person.” He leaned forward. “I’m glad I did. Even if I don’t
learn anything new, it’s been worth the trip. Worth my
time.”

T
he woman smiled back. Ham
smirked back.

“
Would you
like a smoke?” He offered although he considered himself a
non-smoker. He didn’t smoke all that much, only occasionally to get
the stress out, when he couldn’t go jogging or drink scotch. These
past months, he had smoked more than usual. Of course.

He used to
keep a pack at home in the pocket of his
lounge chair. He’d have a cigarette in the middle of the
night, around three or four when he woke and lay awake unable to go
back to sleep, thinking about a case. For when Fists and Knot came
visiting, often unannounced, often for extended stays, he had a
pack in that pocket now still, but many, oh so many times refilled.
He had added a box in his truck glove compartment, though. And now,
he also carried some in his jacket breast pocket in case of
emergencies. Damn woman. Ham tried to hide his smile when he took
out the pack. The guy wasn’t dumb; he knew why Chris carried packs
of cigarettes in his suit pocket now. Fuck him. He lighted the
woman’s cigarette, then his.

“
See the
sigh there, Stud? Barkeep’ says we ain’t supposed to smoke
inside.”

“‘Stud’?” Ham mouthed at her
back.

Chris
shrugged as she puffed smoke his way. Hell, the
place reeked of stale cigarettes. “Hey, girl, we’re the police,” he
told her with a mental eye roll. “We give you the right to smoke.”
Macho. And flirty. The frisky technique worked wonders when
Patricia did it. He excelled at it too but didn’t get to practise
as much, seeing as he met a lot more men in his line of work than
women. Which, when he thought about it, was a good thing as the
word could do without dead women or she-killers.

He pulled an
empty chair and sat in front of Bunny with a smile. She was smiling
back big time now. Oily skin, yellowing teeth, she looked to be in
her late twenties. From the smell of her, she hadn’t taken her bath
today, nor yesterday, and probably not the day before. The smoke
covered some of the smell, but her cheap perfume was giving him a
headache.
Fuck, I’m
old
. He kept on smiling.

“
This
guy with Rick, Lemieux I mean,” the woman
started, leaning forward on her chair, brushing her knee against
his. “Your man here said his name was Lemieux, but we always called
him Rick. What kind of asshole name is Lemieux?”
My sentiment exactly. An asshole
name for an asshole jerk.
“Lemieux’s
buddy’s not a regular but yah, he’s been in a couple of
times.”

“Can you describe him for me?”
A smile. A breath through his mouth.

“
Sturdy guy,
about your height,
Chris
. Fat, all in the gut, yah
know? His hair is brown I’d say, greying and thinning. Big arms. A
mix of fat and muscles. Big moustache. Big ears, I remember, like
huge ears. And he had something on the right side of his neck. A
tattoo or a scar, not sure.”

“Do you remember what he was
wearing?”

“
From where
I was standing, all I saw was jeans, work boots, worn-out leather
jacket with a dark shirt underneath.”

“Was he a friend of Lemieux,
you think?”

“
Nah. Rick,
I mean Lemieux, was always alone. I remember seeing him earlier
inside but not the guy.”

“Was Lemieux one of your
regulars?”

“
Lemieux
was, yah know.
He used to come to the
club about once a month for the evening shows, always on a Sunday
night.”

“
Were the
two of you close?”

“
Not really.
I just kind of knew him, yah know. The guy was a good
tipper.”

Chris
figured Lemieux must have spent a small fortune for her to remember
him. Money and good looks. He was killed the
weekend after the fight. “Tell me what happened that
night.”

“
I didn’t
see the fighting. How it began, I mean. Or the end. I was just out
for a smoke and saw them arguing. They were standing next to some
old model car. Black. Tinted windows. Big like a boat.”

Her
description fitted Lemieux’s car. Ham
riffled through his wallet for a print of the car. He shook
his head silently. Too bad, they’d have to return with a picture of
the car for confirmation then.

“
Besides
them two, I didn’t see anyone else in the parking lot. I heard
cursing, muffled words, in-your-face talking. At one point, Lemieux
grabbed the guy’s jacket and mumbled in the guy’s face,
nose-to-nose. I couldn’t hear what he said, but the guy looked
angry. He shoved Lemieux against the car. I hoped the jerk wouldn’t
beat Lemieux too much. I mean, man was that guy gorgeous. Perfect
face. Perfect body. The guy could have been a fucking film
star.”
Bastard
.

“Then what?”

“
My break
was over. I went back inside, and that was it.”

An
o
rdinary day at the club.

The
interview took more than an
hour. Chris
may have laid it on a bit thick; the girl was getting on his nerve.
Moreover, he wanted to know about Lemieux so much, he was ready to
do anything, even get her into him if needed. By the end, she
agreed to come down to the station to have a sketch made if he
covered her revenue loss. The fat dancer and the other strippers
took her allotted time spots while they took Bunny down and brought
her back. Ham and Charles would run the sketch through the system
for a possible ID and show it around, see if maybe someone
recognised Lemieux’s opponent.

Chris came
out
of the club shortly after seven. It
had rained nonstop all day. He called Patricia’s place. No answer.
He tried her cell. Voice mail. He tried his place. No response
which in itself did not mean she wasn’t there. A guy could
hope.

On a hunch,
before getting i
n the car, he went back
inside. “Give me a minute, guys.”

Still no
manager
. Barkeeper was awake now and
serving beer. He nodded at him when he walked by. Bunny was in the
back room getting ready for her show. She had on a military-issued
bikini. If the two other dancers he had seen in the place were
representative of the night’s dance card, Bunny was going to be the
star of the evening. Then again, maybe the clientele liked freakish
women better.

From
her beaming smile, Bunny might have thought he
was coming back for her. No fucking way.

“
Sorry to
interrupt, but I have one last question.”

His
q
uestion answered he turned to leave, but
Bunny grabbed the side of his jacket and rubbed herself against his
back.
Fucking shit, now my
clothes are going to stink
.

“
How about
you
wait in the showroom? I’ll dance for
you.”

“
Got
plans.”
I have a French apple
awaiting at home. Hopefully
.

“I’ll make you hard for
later.”

Thanks but no thanks.
Fuck. Why
couldn’t she come on to Charles? A quickie was what the kid needed;
a crash course Ham had said.

Ham was
sitting on the truck’s bumper when Chris walked back out. The rain
had soaked through his officer’s clothes, but the guy showed no
apparent discomfort. Maybe he too wanted to get rid of the
smell.

“
What’d you
forgot, Chris?” He asked with a smug smile on his face. “Her phone
number?”

The
jerk didn’t seriously think he had gone back for
some freebee, did he? His face must have shown how mad he was
because Ham belched out a laugh.

“
Fuck, that
was fun. Nice t
o see you still got the
touch, Boss.” Big grin.

“Get in the car, Ham.”

“
Yes
, Sir.”

They
hadn’t
ridden for more than five minutes
when Ham added, “Great job today, Boss. Charlie boy, you didn’t
stare at the floor this time, so nice going. Pattycake did a good
job on you.” Chris clenched his fist. Nothing was secret, nothing
was sacred with those fucking bastards. “But next time, kiddie, try
looking at the dance more. Maybe if you imagined the Pussydoll was
the one dancing nak−”

Charles
almost missed the turn,
and, before Chris could stop him, the kid had braked in the middle
of the road, jumped out, wrenched the rear passenger door open and
yanked Hamilton by the collar.

“
You ever
talk about her like that again, I will drop you.”

Shit.
Patricia had
indeed done a splendid job
on the young officer. Chris applauded while Ham remained frozen.
The kid had managed to haul the guy halfway out. Not
bad.

After a
minute
of stunned silence, Ham started to
laugh, grabbed Charles down and kissed him soundly on the cheek.
“Keep this up, Charlie boy, and we’ll get along just
fine.”

Damn
assholes those two. Sometimes
, Chris felt
like he was running a goddamn kindergarten.

Charles
didn’t respond to Ham’s enthusiasm. They settled back in the car;
the drive continued in silence. Charles would need more practice
before he was to be as cool as Ham, Chris mused, noticing the kid’s
knuckles had turned white from holding the wheel too
tight.

The
annoying
rain hadn’t let up, and their
wet clothes started to stink up the car, giving it the subtle smell
of piss.

“We reek of unwashed, wet dog
fur.”

“
Roger reek,
as in dogs out drinking cheap beer, smoking cheap cigarettes and
wearing cheap perfume.”

The
police truck would need a good clean. His truck
too since he would stink it up during his drive home. His jacket
Bunny had buffed was going to ride in the trunk. Hopefully, that
would prevent the smell from spreading.

More Guy
Talk

T
hey left the stinking service
car in the precinct’s side garage and headed for their cars parked
out back, Chris walking between the duo in case of another
flare-up. They were about level with his car when Ham put his hand
on his shoulder before grabbing the rookie’s arm.

“
You know,
kid. I was just teasing,” Ham said, in a typical Ham’s
apology.

“
I don’t
like being called a kid,” Charles retorted, not willing to be
gracious.

Fucking
nursery
school.

“
I’m not
talking about you; you
are
a kid. I’m referring to the
Cake. No way would she ever dance for you.” Chris made fists. Ham
anticipated them coming at him because he grabbed Chris’s shoulder
tighter and spoke faster. “I would tease just the same had she been
around, and she wouldn’t mind.”

His
man
did indeed speak the same in front of
her, and she did indeed take it by rolling her eyes at the jerk.
Saying she wouldn’t mind the dance remark was stretching it some,
though. Then again, she had a way of throwing back sassy remarks to
Ham; Chris suspected it was why Ham pestered her that much. Chris
didn’t blame the guy; the smart comebacks were partly why he too
provoked her, that and her sexy pouts. Chin up, back straight,
hands on hips and nipples hard, she was fun and sexy as hell to
watch when she roused herself into a state. Nonetheless, Ham’s
comment had annoyed him too. He listened on as Ham rambled on with
his impenitent act of contrition.

“
You
know
, Charlie, you’re not the only one
who gives a damn about the woman.”