A Cold Day in Hell (11 page)

He looked back toward the creature.

Gone.

Once more the fog bowled over the ground.

Every hair on his back rose.

He ran back to the house and as he closed the door, an animal howled.

“L
ook at those two dance,” Sarah Board said. “They’re making me dizzy.” She leaned on the bar at the Boardroom and watched Rusty Barnes whip Gracie Loder around the floor in a snappy two-step.

Sabine Webb, the red and green beads in her braids exchanged for white crystals, popped olives into three martinis and wiggled to the rhythm of the Boardroom Boys. “Not bad,” she said. “I never did see that stick of a Rusty dance at all before. He’s as good as anyone out there.” Sabine could dance most people to collapse.

“Well he’s getting practice somewhere.” The club buzzed and Sarah felt good. Buying and opening this place had been a gamble, even with Delia’s investment, but it was paying off.

“That guy Barnes makes Gracie want to puke,” Leland Garolfo said. He worked at The Willows site as a foreman for Duhon Construction and when he’d had a few drinks he got loud and pushy. “Just because she lives at his place, he thinks she owes him more than rent. I’m gonna have to spring her.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sarah said. She ran her fingers through short, white-blond hair, making sure her spiky do looked its best.

“Why’s that?” Leland said, all belligerence.

“Leland,” Sabine said, leaning across the bar but unfortunately having to look way up at tall, rangy Leland. “You can be an ass, know that? You’ve got the hots for Gracie and everybody knows it. She’s not interested in you. Suck it up.”

Sarah whispered,
“Sabine,”
even though she didn’t expect the other woman to take any notice.

“Anybody tell you what a big mouth you’ve got?” Leland said to her.

Sabine puckered up her lips and frowned in thought. “Mm, nope, not that I remember. But I’ll take it you’re breaking my run of good luck, hot rocks.”

Shoot.
Sarah waited for the exchange to blow. It didn’t. Leland shrugged and pushed his glass toward her for another shot of Wild Turkey. She poured and turned immediately to fill an order for Bea, one of the waitresses. Bea filled in on Gracie’s off nights and this was one of them. Last night they’d been slammed and Gracie hadn’t got off until two in the morning. She needed downtime.

“Know what you need, Miz Sabine?” Leland said. He slurred his words. “A man. That’s what you need, girl, a man. You’re a frustrated—”

“Whoa,” Sarah said. “If you don’t want to be outside that front door, Leland, you’ll cool down.” The guy who doubled as security and bouncer didn’t get enough practice for his taste. Sarah didn’t want that situation to change, but he was there to be used if necessary.

The Boardroom Boys swung into “You Ain’t Gettin’ My Lady” and Rusty ushered Gracie from the floor.

“Lookee here,” Leland said when the dancers arrived. “A couple from the Bolshy Bally.” He pulled Gracie into the crook of one arm and kissed her on the lips. Gracie pushed him away.

“Bolshoi Ballet,” Sabine corrected him promptly.

Leland, who had definitely had one or two more than was a good idea, faced the bar and raised his glass. He was quiet, but not for long enough. “Did y’all hear about Emma Duhon having a turn over at Ona’s last night? They reckon she flipped out in the parking lot.”

Busy filling orders, Sarah listened while she ran back and forth. Sabine did the same but she skidded to a halt at Leland’s question. “A turn? She was attacked. And she didn’t flip out, she was just scared.”

“Not the way I heard it. She said a bunch of stuff happened only it doesn’t look as if it did. No evidence, is what I heard.”

“Rusty,” Sabine said. “You were there. You saw what happened. Emma was under a truck and all scraped up.”

“Yeah,” Rusty said. “The police are looking into it. Less said before they’re finished, the better.”

“A whole bunch of us saw it.” Sabine’s voice rose and her cheekbones grew ruddy. “When’s the last time you were pregnant and someone knocked you under a truck, Leland Garolfo?”

“Ah, don’t come on with that stuff. We all know women get funny when they’re pregnant. They imagine things.”

At once, Sarah dropped the cloth she’d been using and put an arm around Sabine’s stiff shoulders. “Don’t waste your time with him,” she told her. “You’re an idiot, Leland.”

“I’m just tellin’ it like it is,” he said. He laughed and swayed and tossed down the rest of his drink. “Whips, I heard. She said he went after her with whips.” His empty glass shot across the bar at Sabine and he threw down more money.

Sabine picked up the glass and Sarah quickly removed it from her fingers. “You don’t want any more, do you, Leland?”

“You bet your sweet tush, I do, don’t I honey?” Honey was Gracie, who got treated to a pinch on her rear.

“Keep your hands off me,” Gracie said.

Sarah glanced at Rusty who watched the pair with no expression on his face. She checked to see where the bouncer, Ron Labeaux, was and saw him observing, jiggling slightly on the toes of his rubber-soled shoes.

The place was loud and getting louder. Good music, good eats, good times—just the way she had planned for it to be. But tonight was the first time she’d felt there could be violence and Sarah’s heart beat too fast and hard.

She caught Rusty’s eye and he must have seen her nervousness. He took Leland’s Stetson off and grinned at him when Leland’s head jerked around. “I wouldn’t want you and the Gracie getting into a scuffle,” he said. “’Sides, the show’s gettin’ a bit heated for us small-town folks.”

The light in Leland’s eyes turned purely mean. He straightened up and wiped the back of a hand across his mouth. “You sure you want to mess with me, Barnes?”

“No. But if I have to, I will,” Rusty said. He had dark red hair, green eyes, a cool expression, and a reporter’s unshakable persistence when he needed it. “Looks like you’re forcing yourself on Gracie. Maybe she doesn’t like bruises on her butt.”

Sarah held her breath. From the corner of her eye she saw Rob Labeaux move a little closer.

A man came through the door and pushed his way toward the bar. Maybe six-foot even with the kind of brawny build that came from physical labor, he had thick and curly dark hair, graying at the sideburns, and one of those hard-jawed faces that was all-American pleasant, but forgettable. He reminded Sarah of someone but she couldn’t think who.

Of the cluster at the bar, Rusty Barnes was the only one whose attention focused as if he knew the man. Rusty frowned and checked around the room as if someone else should be interested in the newcomer.

Sabine looked up from polished the bar and smiled at the man. Just as fast, the smile dissolved. “You eating, or just drinking?” she asked, her face turned away from him. There were a dozen or so tables ranged around the dance floor and the kitchen put out what the menu boasted were “Big bites and bigger bites,” a spicy selection of local food.

“Okay if I have a snack at the bar?” the man said. He shot out a hand. Sabine ignored it. He looked at his palm, shrugged and said, “Chuck Moggeridge. I’ve been away a couple of years. Don’t know who remembers me and who doesn’t. I see some familiar faces. Hi, Rusty.”

There was no doubt that Sabine remembered him and she surely didn’t look happy about it. The rest of the group checked him out and Rusty said, “Yo, Chuck. You still on the rigs?”

“I’m takin’ at least a year off from the Gulf,” he said. “Time to get to know my family again.”

“What family?” Sabine said, swinging around to look at him. “You and Eileen are divorced.”

Chuck ignored this and said, “You got Turbodog?” to Sarah, who nodded and poured his beer.

“I remember you,” Sabine said, tightening the corners of her eyes. “I’d have thought you’d stay away.”

“This place is nice,” Chuck said, indicating the club, and as if Sabine hadn’t spoken. “Who’s the boss?”

“I am,” Sarah said. “We’ve been open a few months.”

“I bet you get everyone in town in here,” Chuck said.

“Pretty much.”

“You know my wife, Eileen?”

“She’s not your wife,” Sabine said. She looked tense. “What’re you really doing back here, Chuck? I thought you’d gone on to bigger and better things.”

He looked at her fully for the first time since he arrived in the club. “A man doesn’t always grow up quick enough to make the best of what he’s got,” he said. “I finally figured out I left the best things I ever had behind.”

“Sweet,” Sabine muttered. “All you’re going to find here is trouble. Eileen’s got someone else. She’s also got a good business and she’s doing nicely without you. She isn’t going to want you hanging around.”

Sarah had grown really warm under the collar. One of the things she and Delia had discussed before signing on the line for the Boardroom was that there would be nights like this, when the drink was in and the wit was out and things got nasty.

On the dance floor, the crowd swung and stepped, each couple with their signature moves, but all doing forms of the same dance. Colors shifted all over. Laughter came from every direction. A rack of men’s undershorts—Sarah’s answer to a suggestion that the Boardroom be decorated with women’s bras—stretched across a space behind the band. All donated warm, they bore the owners’ names and were up for sale—all proceeds to charity.

People had a simple Louisiana good time there. Sarah turned from the glaring match between Chuck and Sabine, and tried to let herself enjoy the spectacle of a successful venture.

“I’ll be going to the little girls’ room,” Gracie said. “You thinking of going home any time soon, Rusty?”

Sarah’s attention shot back to the crabby gathering around the bar.

“You bet,” Rusty said. “I’ve got to be at work early.”

“I’ll be glad to take you,” Leland said to Gracie. “You take off, Barnes.”

Gracie faced Leland with her hands on her hips. “You’re pushing it,” she said. “Quit. I’m not interested in you.”

She edged between people, sideways, and Chuck shot out an arm to stop her.

He smiled. “You’re a real looker. How come I missed you around town?”

She turned red. “I guess you got unlucky. Excuse me.”

Sarah met Rusty’s blank stare again but then noticed a subtle change in his expression. His regard turned speculative.

For now, all she wanted was a break in the poisonous exchanges happening in front of her.

Gracie left for the ladies’ room and Leland looked after her with hot, possessive intent.

“You need to remember that Gracie does her own thing,” Rusty said to Chuck. “She’s not a woman who responds to crude approaches.”

Chuck shrugged, tipping his beer glass. He closed his eyes in appreciation. “I’ll try to remember that,” he said.

“Can I get anybody anything?” Sabine asked loudly. “We’ve got a lot of empty glasses around here.”

“I’m leaving soon,” Rusty said.

Leland rocked his glass back and forth a few times, considering, then pushed it toward Sabine. “Same,” he said. “How about a shot to go with that beer, Chuck…Moggeridge, is it?”

“Yes, please. And, yeah. Chuck Moggeridge. Call me Chuck.”

“Moggeridge isn’t a name from around here,” Leland said.

Chuck shook his head. “Sure isn’t. My dad worked on the rigs before me. We moved to Mississippi from Arkansas when I was a kid. I ended up here. Nice place.”

Chuck shrugged, tipping his beer glass. He closed his eyes in appreciation.

“You just hanging out in Pointe Judah?” Leland asked Chuck.

“I want to find something to do. Money goes soon enough if all you do is spend it.”

Leland looked him up and down. “Done any construction?”

“Some.”

“Come out and see me at The Willows in the morning. Know where that is?”

“Sure,” Chuck said. “Everyone around here does.”

“Come to the office in the morning. I’ll find something for you.”

Sabine gave Sarah a poke in the back and whispered, “Don’t they call that an unholy alliance?”

“Mmm.” Sarah smiled.

Sabine nodded at two men who had just walked into the Boardroom and shouldered their way to the bar. “What’ll it be?” she said.

“You available, blondie?” one of the guys asked. Blond himself, twenty-something and built like a fireplug, he doffed a sweat-stained tan Stetson and waggled his heavy eyebrows at Sarah.

A happy smile on her face, Sabine said, “Careful what you say to Sarah, she’s a chemist, y’know.”

“And I’m a Cooper,” came the rapid reply. The man slapped his knee, guffawed and elbowed the man beside him who had an equally good laugh. “Ron Cooper, ma’am. You ain’t so bad yourself now I take a good look at you.”

Grinning to herself, Sarah turned back to unloading clean glasses. Sabine could take care of herself and if they ever had trouble, there was Ron and enough brawny regulars to handle things.

“Hey, blondie chemist,” the comedian bawled. “I wanna buy you a drink.”

“No,” Sabine said. “It’s not her name, it’s what she is. She’s a chemist who happens to own this place. All day long she cuts up specimens. I hear you’re short of those, hey, Sarah? Specimens to cut up, that is.”

Sabine had her own sense of humor.