In Deep Shitake (A Humorous Romantic Suspense) (23 page)

“Very funny,
ma'am
. You’re obviously not blind.”

“How do you know?”

He squirmed with uncertainty before his expression turned belligerent. “You’re not blind. You’re looking at the menu.”

“I’m holding it up so that no one sees I’m blind.”

He squirmed again. “The animal is in a carrier. How can it lead you anywhere?”

“I’m not deaf.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” His brows knit in confusion.

“The animal tells me where to go.”

“Are you trying to make me look ridiculous?” the new waiter demanded.

“You don’t need my help to look ridiculous."

“Since you’re blind you obviously won’t be able to see this.” The waiter saluted her with one finger—the middle—and walked away.

Over at
Gigantor's
table, the shadowed figure shifted and a pin light illuminated his face.

She recognized him.

Mo stood, knocking the table, which teetered on two legs before falling back into place.

“I’m going.” She grabbed Talley's carrier and then marched toward Ross.

She heard a shout behind her. “Ma'am, you still have our menu.” Over her shoulder she realized the waiter’s shout had brought the attention of
Gigantor
and his friend right to her.

Tossing the menu down, she increased her speed to a trot. Talley emitted a loud "
Mmmmrrrrwwww
" protesting the abrupt movement.

After what seemed like an eternity, actually just two or three seconds, Mo reached Ross’s side.

“Come on, Ross. We
gotta
go,” she said, tugging his arm.

“Not yet," Ross growled out. "This cretin still doesn’t understand the situation. He seems to think I’m making some kind of movie like candid camera. So he’s being especially unhelpful.”

“I know what’s going on here.” The desk clerk grinned. “And you’re not going to catch me acting like I stupidly believe a ridiculous story.”

“It’s not a movie!”

“Yeah sure. That’s what those frat guys thought and they ended up looking really stupid in that
mockumentary
.”

“Ross, it doesn’t matter.” Mo tugged again on his shirtsleeve. “Come on.”

“Just a minute.” He held up an index finger.

“No,” she shouted. “We don’t have a minute. I saw
Gigantor
and he was talking to someone I know. Worse, I think
Gigantor
saw me. So let’s go.”

“Hey, this script is pretty entertaining,” the desk clerk said.

Even though the desk clerk didn’t believe the alarm in Mo’s voice, her urgency did communicate itself to Ross. His eyes darted to the bar. When her gaze followed his, she saw
Gigantor
pounding their way. Surprising that the earth under their feet didn’t shift from the weight of him.

“You’re right,” Ross said, grabbing her arm. “We definitely have to go now.”

“Let me know when the movie comes out,” the clerk called after them.

Ross didn’t wait for the valet this time but pulled the door open himself and then practically pushed Mo through. When she crossed the threshold into the Savannah night, Mo glanced behind her just as
Gigantor
got caught up trying to maneuver around some Japanese tourists who had exited the elevator.

As they bolted to the car, Ross forgot his customary good manners and ran for the driver’s side without opening Mo’s door. He jumped in and started the car.
The moment Mo closed the passenger door
,
he peeled from the curb
.
Gigantor
emerged from the hotel just as they pulled away.

“That guy was talking to someone you know?”

“Yeah, the case from this morning. Nelson, the cross-dresser.”

 “What connection does that guy have to
Gigantor
?” Ross glanced at her questioningly as his Mercedes shot at full speed down the street.

She gripped the leather seat as Ross careened around a corner. “I don’t know what Nelson’s connection is, but he did participate in a drag queen competition at
Hoochie
Mama’s House across the river.”

“
Hoochie
Mama’s House?”

“Yeah, I know. Classy name. Anyway, a guy named Yuri
Kubikov
owns the club. Our agency did an investigation there.
Kubikov
is a Russian mob boss.”

“What makes you think that
Kubikov
has anything to do with this?”

“Remember a few things we heard
Gigantor
say earlier sounded Russian? If
Gigantor
is Russian and he’s connected to Nelson who knows another Russian, maybe one Russian is connected to another Russian...if you see what I mean.”

“It frightens me to admit that I do.” Ross sighed. “All right. We may or may not have the Russian mob after us. And if they are, we have no idea why."

Ross pulled a cell phone from his pants pocket and punched in a series of numbers. "I think I need to call in reinforcements now. I’m contacting Aaron.”

“Aaron?” Being a celebrity, Ross probably had connections in all kinds of powerful law enforcement people. Ross must’ve consulted Aaron when he’d prepared for the Stephen Dagger character.

“Who’s Aaron?” Mo asked.

“Aaron
Stillman
, my agent.”

“I’m confused. Is he an agent for the FBI, CIA, MI5, Interpol?”

“No,” he said, still playing with the phone. “My agent. My theatrical agent.”

His agent? What could his agent do about this? Negotiate a contract with the mobster? What kind of commission would go with that?

“Bloody hell.” Steering the car into a gas station before coming to a stop, Ross glared at the phone as he continued pressing keys. “This phone is complete
shite
. It hasn’t been holding a charge and now the damned thing is dead.” He threw the phone into the back seat.

“I guess this means Aaron won’t come riding to the rescue on his briefcase,” Mo grumbled.

“If you’ve got a better idea of what we should do, I’d like to hear it." Ross shot a quizzical glance her way and then put the car back in motion.

“Not really,” Mo admitted after a few seconds.

“I didn’t think so.”

“Wait a minute,” Mo said as the car sped through the night. “Turn left at the next light.”

Ross obliged. “Why?”

“Over the river and through the woods, to
Hoochie
Mama’s House we go.”

Chapter Eleven

Hoochie
Mama’s House loomed just across the
Talmadge
Bridge, between the alligator infested swamp and the sulfur belching paper mill. At this time of night, vehicles of every type packed the parking lot so full that more than a few cars had strayed from the gravel area and sat perched on the edge of toppling into the marsh below. The building resembled the type of warehouse-sized mobile home one would buy from a dealer named Trashy Trailers "R" Us.

A sign with flashing neon lights—mounted on the flat tin roof of the trailer—displayed a drawing of a scantily clad woman with enormous boobs in profile and her round behind prominently in the forefront. The figure was writing the words "
Hoochie
Mama’s House" on some imaginary wall in the same cherry red lipstick adorning her cartoony lips.

It would not be good for Ross to be photographed patronizing this sort of place.

“I don’t know about this idea of yours,” Ross grumbled as he trolled the lot for a space. “We’re pretty close to the marsh. Are you sure there won’t be alligators in this parking lot?”

“There might be,” Mo admitted. “Are you afraid?”

“I’m not afraid of being bitten. But I do have a fear of being digested.”

“Well, with this crowd, it's probably the humans we have to worry about.”

“Brilliant.”

“This is the only idea we’ve got," Mo noted. "Confront the bad guys when they’re not expecting it and maybe they’ll tell us what they want. If we know what they want, maybe we can get them off our backs.”

“Or maybe they’ll just kill us.” Ross drove another loop around the lot.

“Not in a club full of voyeurs.”

A group of laughing young men staggered out of the darkness from the direction of the club, forcing Ross to slam on his breaks to avoid a collision. The Mercedes’ headlights illuminated the center man who wore a hat proclaiming himself as the world’s horniest groom.

The group stumbled toward a dark colored Lexus and then piled inside while Ross waited for them to vacate the space.

“They could pull guns on us and what good would the crowd do?” Ross complained. He tried to adopt a manly tone of complaint and not a whine. He didn’t want to seem like a wimp to Mo, but it had to be said.

“They aren’t expecting us. That’s the point. Why would they have guns?”

The world’s horniest groom stumbled back out of the passenger side of the Lexus. Hooting with laughter, he proceeded to the back, driver’s side, door. He flopped across the young men in the back seat and then the car door slammed shut.

“Don't you have a gun?" he asked.

"Yes, but not with me," she said. "Besides, the surest way to get us shot is to bring a gun in there."

The Lexus lurched forward and then stopped.

“These drunken
gits
are never going to move that car,” Ross groused. He turned to fix Mo with a glare. There were a lot of holes in her reasoning about the guns. “I still don’t like this plan.”

“Let’s try it,” Mo said. “If things don’t look safe, we’ll leave.”

“Yes, we’ll leave,”
Ross
said with deliberate sarcasm. “I’m sure it will be easy to leave any time we want."

The Lexus finally sped forward sending gravel spurting behind its tires, allowing Ross to swing his car into the vacant space.

“Besides, why are you worried about guns?” Mo jumped out. “If they pull their guns you can always pull yours. Everyone knows Stephen Dagger has a very big gun. I’m sure your
gun
is the biggest one in there.”

“You
think
you’re funny.” Ross climbed out of the car before following after her.

“Oh, I know I’m funny,” Mo glanced at him flirtatiously over her shoulder.

“I’ll try to remember to laugh when I’m bleeding from a gunshot wound.” It occurred to him that he must have been thinking only with his
big gun
by following her into this place.

“Think of the bright side,” Mo joked. “At least you’ll be surrounded by
hoochie
mamas at the time.”

The club’s door flew open and then clattered metal on metal, as it smashed into the wall behind it. A disheveled young man, reeking of vomit, lumbered out. He wore a hat identifying him as the world’s horniest best man.

“Hey, guys, this isn’t funny. Where are you?” He stopped short and turned bleary eyes on Mo. “Where are they?” he asked.