Before The Killing Starts (Dixie Killer Blues Book 1) (18 page)

Dixie
did a bit more swirling with his
glass, staring at the pattern he was making, a big, looping figure-of-eight.
'After what happened last time. I wanted to do something to try to make
amends.'

Jackson
's bark of a laugh made him jump.

'That wasn't your
fault.'

'I know, but I could
have made one call and you'd never have gone to prison.' He gave an aggravated
sigh. He felt like picking up the glass and throwing it into all the bottles
stacked behind the bar.

Jackson
sat back in his chair and shook his
head in exasperation. He let out a loud breath through his nose. 'We went
through all this at the time.'

'I know, I know. Doesn't
mean I haven't questioned the decision every day for two years,' he said to the
bar top.

'Jesus Christ. If you'd
done anything, they'd have known it was you. They're not completely stupid.
They might have asked themselves
what sort of a person can click his fingers
and get his brother out of the shit?
' He pretended to think and then looked
up like he'd just had an
aha
moment. 'A cop, that's who, they say to
themselves. Where would that have left you?' His eyes drilled into the side of Dixie's head. 'In some alley somewhere with your throat cut, that's where.'

Dixie
knew he was right; they'd been
through it all at the time. Jackson had been adamant and his time in jail
hadn't changed his view.

'Anyway,' Dixie said, 'when Ellie came to me with her proposition it just felt right. The timing was
right with you coming out and, as I said, I'm sick of it all.'

'But—'

Dixie put a hand on Jackson's forearm. 'That's not all—I think Chico's getting suspicious. I'm getting out
while I still can.'

'What's Chico doing about the missing three million?'

Dixie laughed and eyed Jackson's beer longingly. He wanted to snatch it and pour it down his neck before Jackson could stop him.

'What?'

'He sent me after her
and the money.'

Jackson
stared at him for a second before
roaring with laughter. Dixie couldn't help joining in, despite the mood he was
in.

'That is just
beautiful,' Jackson said as soon as he got his breath back. 'Surely that means
he doesn't suspect you.'

Dixie
shrugged. 'There've been a few
things recently but the last few days clinched it for me.'

'Why? What happened?'

'Maybe I'm being
paranoid—'

'Guilty conscience, you
mean.'

'—but Chico insisted I
take that moron Crispy along with me. I got the impression he was there to keep
an eye on me.'

Jackson
smiled. 'Crispy, I remember that
guy. The 'P' stands for
prick
doesn't it?'

'Nothing so useful.'

'It's understandable,
sending Crispy with you, I mean. Chico just lost three million. He's probably
keeping tabs on his mother too.' Jackson looked around the bar. 'So where is he
now? Crispy.'

Dixie
tried to keep a straight face,
tried not to grin. 'Still in the trunk of his car as far as I know.'

For the second time in
the space of two minutes Jackson exploded with laughter.

'One thing's for sure,
if he wasn't suspicious before, he will be now. I think I'd have set the car on
fire.'

'I thought about it. Let
him live up to his name.'

They were quiet once
again enjoying the easy companionship they'd always known, despite the two
years separation. Then Jackson turned to Dixie.

'Did you ever manage to
find out who set us up last time?'

Chapter 38

Two years previously
another deal with Alvarez had gone disastrously wrong. Somebody had tipped off
the police and they'd raided Alvarez's warehouse just as the deal was going
down. A number of Alvarez's men had been caught along with Jackson. Dixie had got away.

Dixie
thought back to that night. He'd
had a bad feeling about it from the beginning and hadn't wanted to go. Or was
that just with the benefit of hindsight? It was impossible to say now. Chico had been out of the country and had left Ricardo in charge. What a joke. What
everybody should have done was sit patiently on their hands, watch TV and wait
for Chico to get back. Unfortunately Ricardo saw it as the perfect opportunity
to increase his standing in Chico's eyes. Everybody knew Chico thought he was
an idiot and everybody thought the assessment was bang on the money. Ricardo
knew it too.

It was too good an
opportunity for him to miss. Everything was arranged; the three of them—Dixie, Jackson and Ricardo—were all set to go. Then Ricardo pulled out at the last minute. Dixie
wanted to cancel the whole thing but Jackson said no, let's do it. The police
were waiting for them. Dixie was the only one to get away. Was it because he
was expecting things to go wrong and was more cautious or was it a monumental
cock-up by the police? At the end of the day it didn't really matter, the end
result was the same.

And the fallout? At
first they were looking at him; he was the only one to get away after all. He
asked them how likely they thought it was that he'd sacrifice his own brother—they'd
seen how close they were. Maybe they thought the two of them had flipped a coin
and Jackson had lost? Okay, they said, maybe it wasn't you after all. They
seemed to be out of ideas after that.

Dixie
still couldn't decide what he
thought. At first it looked to him as if it was Ricardo; the barely explained
way he dropped out at the last moment. But Ricardo was
desperate
to
impress Chico, completely obsessed. Dixie knew the guy hated him with a passion
but would he deliberately make himself look even more of an ass—not to mention
sacrificing a substantial amount of Chico's money—in order to get rid of him
and Jackson. If his aim had been to get them out of the way so that he could
fill the gap in his father's eyes, did he think a colossal cock-up like this
was the way to do it? Then again, the guy was an idiot, with all the sense of a
barn door . . .

Dixie realized Jackson had said something.

'What was that?'

'I said I went to see Chico.'

Dixie
's head jerked backwards. 'Really?'

'I had to start
somewhere. It seemed as good a place as any.'

'I suppose. What did he
say?'

Jackson
flung his arms wide and sent a
stack of dirty glasses sitting on the bar flying. Everybody turned to look at
him. He raised an apologetic hand. 'Sorry,' he said as the bartender scuttled
up and gave him a look like he was a party guest who'd just shat on the floor.
You could see he thought he might have made a mistake throwing Earl out instead
of these two. He started to pick up the pieces. Satisfied (and disappointed) a
fight wasn't about to break out, people went back to their conversations.

'He did all that
insincere hugging, back-clapping stuff,' Jackson said, opening his arms more
cautiously, 'and said if there's anything I need, etc., etc.'

'That's it?'

'Pretty much,' Jackson said and leaned forward. 'He
assured
me'—he put his hand on Dixie's arm and squeezed to demonstrate the depth of sincerity—'it had nothing to do with
anyone in his organization. He'd looked into it and he was satisfied it was
nobody from
our
side, blah, blah, blah.'

Jackson
let go of Dixie's arm and sat back
in his chair. His expression suggested that he thought Chico couldn't have
cared less if he'd spent twenty years rotting in jail instead of two.

'I remember he was
jumping up and down at the time. You went to prison but he lost a lot of
money.'

Jackson
snorted. 'He mentioned that.'

'Did he say who he
thought it might be?'

'He said to talk to a
guy called Miguel who works for Alvarez. He didn't want me to talk to Alvarez
himself. He wouldn't say why.'

Dixie
laughed. 'I can understand that. I
had to go to Alvarez and ask him if he stole Chico's money.'

Jackson
's eyebrows lifted an inch at the
thought. 'That must have been an interesting conversation.'

'Uncomfortable, you
could say.'

'Awkward.'

'That too. I don't
suppose Chico wanted you going in there the following day and saying:
by the
way, Enrico, while we're on the subject, did you snitch to the police two years
ago?'

Jackson
smiled. 'No, I don't suppose so. Do
you know this guy Miguel?'

'Not really. Just that
he works for Alvarez. I saw him there the other day.'

Dixie
let out a short laugh.

'What's so funny?'

'It's just that Alvarez
put a GPS tracker in with the money. He showed me how it worked and I'm having
to pretend this is all great news to me, thank you very much Enrico for finding
our money. Crispy's standing right behind me, remember. And all the time I've
got the key to the unit sitting in my pocket.'

Jackson
waved his hand in the air and Dixie caught sight of the tattoo. 'I'm sure you were very convincing,' Jackson said. 'You
always were full of BS.'

Dixie
ignored the insult. A frown creased
his forehead as he thought back to the meeting.

'What is it?'

'It's probably nothing
but he was really staring at my hand.'

'Who was? Alvarez?'

'No, Miguel. I thought
it was strange at the time but I didn't know what to make of it. It's just come
to me now, seeing you.'

'Uh huh. Glad I could
help.'

Dixie
held out his hand and spread his
fingers, displaying his own tattoo fully.

'He was staring at the
tattoo.'

Jackson
looked at his own, matching tattoo.
'So? Maybe he wants one like it. He has to work out what it means first.' He
tapped the side of his nose.

'It was like he'd just
had an
aha
moment. As if it triggered some memory. Or answered something
that had been on his mind.'

'I still don't see what
it matters.'

'It matters if he knows
somebody from when we were in Atlanta. Somebody who knew about the two brothers
with the strange tattoo—who also just happened to be cops.'

Jackson
leaned back and crossed his arms,
stuck his thumbs under his armpits. He shook his head. 'It's a lifetime ago and
on the other side of the country. Besides, I quit more than ten years ago.
Don't worry about it.'

'I'm not worried about
me. I'm thinking about what might happen if you go to see Miguel, the guy with
the recently awakened memories.'

Jackson
clapped him on the shoulder.

'As ever, I'm touched by
your concern, but you worry too much.'

'And you don't worry
enough.'

Jackson
opened his hands wide. 'What a
team. Perfectly complementary worrying skills as those human resources assholes
would say.'

Dixie
grinned. 'I think maybe it tipped
the balance with Chico. Miguel said something to Alvarez who passed it on.'

Jackson
shook his head emphatically.
'That's not it. What tipped the balance was you locking his man Crispy in the
trunk of his car.'

'Yeah, that too,' Dixie said. The smile slipped off his face and out of his voice. 'Just bear it in mind when
you go to talk to him, okay.'

Jackson
nodded. 'Okay. I promise.' He held
up three fingers, thumb touching the little finger in a
scout's honor
gesture.

They stared into each
other's eyes. Jackson swallowed. He was one of those people whose eyes well up
a little too quickly, particularly for a man. Some people made the mistake of
taking it for a sign of weakness.

'Yeah, I know,' he said.

'I still think I see him
sometimes,' Dixie said, his voice thick.

Jackson
nodded and looked away. 'It
happened to me a couple of times in prison. One time I was sat at the table
eating dinner and I felt somebody sit down next to me, pushing my leg like I
was taking up too much space . . .'

He looked back at Dixie. 'But there was nobody there, of course.' He didn't want to think about how much
worse things must be for Dixie. Remy hadn't tried to call him on the day he
died. He didn't know how that made him feel. No wonder Dixie lost it.

Dixie
punched him on the arm to try to
break the tension and ordered him another beer.

'I don't suppose . . .' Dixie started and then stopped.

'What?'

'It doesn't matter.' He
gave an irritated shake of the head.

Jackson
gave him a long-suffering look and
waited. A look that said
we might as well get it all out in the open while
we're at it.

'I was going to ask if
you've heard from Rachel,' Dixie said.

Jackson
shook his head. 'No. Things were
going downhill even before all this happened. I knew I wouldn't hear anything
from her in prison. It's not really her style, is it? Visiting her man in
prison with all the other trailer trash wives and girlfriends.'

'I suppose not,' Dixie said and rubbed his nose with the heel of his hand. He took a sip of warm coke to
ease the dryness in the back of his throat.
What the hell made him bring
this up?

Rachel had been a friend
of Ellie's and Dixie had introduced her to Jackson. The four of them had spent
some time together—even gone on vacation—during Jackson's roller coaster
relationship with her. But Jackson was right; he couldn't imagine her visiting
him in prison, even if the relationship had been on one of its highs when he
got sent down. She'd moved on by then.

'Does she still live in
the same place?' Jackson asked.

'As far as I know.'

'Maybe I'll drop round,'
Jackson said with a grin. 'I'm sure she'd be pleased to see me.'

But Dixie wasn't
listening to him. An idea had taken root in his mind and the more he thought
about it, the more sense it made. He smiled to himself.
Yes
.

Jackson
gripped his arm and shook him.
'Hello?'

'Sorry. I've just had an
idea,' Dixie said, his attention snapping back to Jackson's confused face. 'I
think she might be staying with her.'

'What are you talking
about? Who's staying with who?'

Dixie
knew he was grinning stupidly. He
couldn't help himself. He leaned towards Jackson and grasped his arm. 'I didn't
think of her before. Seeing you reminded me. Ellie must be hiding somewhere.
She wouldn't want to stay in a hotel because she knows I could get somebody to
check.'

Jackson
put his hand over his face, pulled
it down, closing his eyes for a moment. 'Isn't it a bit obvious? A bit too easy
for you to find her.'

'Not really.' He let go
of Jackson's arm, started tapping his fingers on the bar. 'I haven't seen her
for . . . over two years. It's only talking to you made me think of her. It's
got to be worth a try. I've got nothing to lose.'

'What are you going to
do if you find her?'

Dixie
thought about it. He wasn't sure
what he was going to do. Despite his initial reaction at the self-storage
facility he didn't think he'd be able to actually do anything to her, to hurt
her, however much she might deserve it. He'd probably just do what she'd done
to him—take the money and run.

'I don't know yet, but I
know one thing for sure.'

'What's that?'

'We're looking at a
fifty-fifty split now. Congratulations, you just earned another half million
dollars.'

Jackson
's grin split his face in two. He
raised his hand for a high five. Dixie looked at his hand and shook his head.

'I must have made a
mistake—I thought you'd only been inside two years. Looks like it was twenty.
Nobody
does that stuff any more.'

Jackson
curled the hand into a fist and
punched him on the arm instead.

'That's what I call a
good day's work.' He raised his glass in a salute. 'Let's do it again.'

Dixie
laughed. 'Sounds good to me. What
about Friday?'