She was definitely going to be trouble, but he could handle it—with pleasure.
Sykes was pissed. Mitchell had been at the Buffalo Club over near Huntsville last night, but by the time Sykes had got there, he was long gone and sheriff’s deputies were swarming the place, sorting things out after a brawl. It was just bad luck, but he was still pissed; if he’d gotten there half an hour sooner, everything would have been handled and Mitchell would be out of their hair.
At least he knew Mitchell was out moving around now, instead of staying holed up somewhere. That increased the chances of getting a line on him, but Sykes still wasn’t having any luck. The bastard was slicker than he’d thought, though not slick enough not to kill the merchandise in the first place.
But the bartender at the Buffalo Club, who had called him in the first place, owed him more than one favor. When Sykes showed up on his doorstep on Sunday, he wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t surprised, either.
“Hey, I called you as soon as I saw him,” Jimmy said, darting his eyes from side to side as if worried about someone seeing them together. “But some idiot started a fight just right after that, and everybody cleared out.”
“No problem,” said Sykes. He wasn’t here to make things rough on Jimmy. “Did you notice if he was with someone?”
“Not that I saw, but he bought two drinks. A beer for himself, and a Coke.”
So old Mitchell had already hooked up with a girl, or was at least trying to; and since he’d failed, presumably, because of the brawl, he’d be out looking again as soon as possible. Not tonight; bars were closed on Sunday. But tomorrow night, for certain. Would he go back to the Buffalo Club so soon? Maybe, if he wanted that particular girl, but what were the odds the same girl would be there on Monday night? She’d have to be real dedicated to the club scene. Still, it was possible.
“Keep an eye out for him tomorrow night,” Sykes said. “I don’t think he’ll be there, but he might, and it should be easier to spot him than it was this weekend.” That gave Jimmy an excuse for not seeing Mitchell earlier.
Jimmy grinned, at ease now that he knew Sykes wasn’t mad. “You think? We’re pretty busy all the time, but, yeah, this past weekend was really crowded.”
Sykes passed him a folded hundred-dollar bill, with Ben’s face showing. “You were on your toes, but you can’t predict when a fight will start.” A little palm grease was always welcome. Of course, when Mitchell “disappeared,” Jimmy would have to go too, but those were the breaks. A smart man didn’t leave loose ends.
A black Ford Explorer pulled into Todd Lawrence’s driveway, and an older man got out. He strode up the sidewalk and mounted the steps; the front door opened before he reached the porch. “So how’d it go last night?” Todd asked as he led the way to the kitchen, where a pot of strong coffee had been freshly brewed.
“She’s a good dancer,” the older man said neutrally. He had graying brown hair and brown eyes, and an average build. He could and did blend in almost any-where.
“Anybody come on to her?”
The man snorted. “Men were all over her. They wouldn’t have paid nearly as much attention to her if she’d been dressed like the others, in jeans and a tube top. It was like Grace Kelly had walked in.” He opened a cabinet door and took down a coffee cup, then filled it.
Todd grinned. That was exactly the effect he’d aimed for in Daisy’s makeover. He was rather proud of his work. “Anybody buy her a drink?”
“She didn’t have time to drink anything. She hit the dance floor and danced several dances; then a fight started right after that and some big guy grabbed her and carried her outside.”
Todd’s eyes narrowed. “Did you follow them?”
“Of course I followed,” the other man said testily. “That’s the idea, right? But this guy just put her in her car, and she drove off alone.”
“Did you recognize him?”
The man shook his head. “He hadn’t danced with her, but they knew each other. They had a little argument outside. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you could tell she was mad at him.” Taking his cup to the table, he pulled out a chair and sat down. “This isn’t a good idea,” he said flatly.
“I agree.” Todd picked up his own cup and leaned against the cabinet while he sipped. “But it’s better than no idea at all. And she’s perfect; she’s so naive she won’t be as careful as most women are.”
“Most women aren’t. Damn it, you can’t keep tabs on every move she makes. What’s she going to do, ask your permission every time she goes out?”
“I’ll start calling every day, just to check on her. Girl talk.” Todd gave a thin smile, and the other man snorted. “She’ll tell me if she’s going out, and I can guide her to the places we suspect.”
“And you really expect to find out something?”
“It’s like fishing. You can’t see the fish, but you know they’re there. You just throw out the bait and hope something bites. Look, she was going to do this anyway. At least this way, you can keep an eye on her.”
“I do have a life, you know. Going out every night and stomping my way through line dances isn’t something I’m crazy about. I might miss an episode of Millionaire.”
“I’ll tape them for you.”
“Fuck you.”
“In your dreams, sweetheart.”
The other man burst out laughing. “God, you’re good! That was just right. Look, why don’t we just concentrate on the job we were sent down here for, and leave your little private vendetta to the local cops?”