Dead Man Walker (3 page)

Anna flipped back her long blonde hair and batted her big blue eyes. Bella twitched her slim hips. They both licked their lips. I took a step back onto the porch and Bella snagged my shirt collar and yanked me inside as Anna slammed the door shut and flattened herself against it. Okay, this took
roving
and
hungry
to a whole new level.

“What brings your fine self to our little ol' doorstep?” Anna winked. “If you can't think of anything, Bella and I got a few suggestions.”

“I'm here on Mercedes's behalf,” I said, dragging the situation back to safe territory. “She says you're in need of a housekeeper?”

“And you're volunteering for the job?” The twins exchanged looks and giggled. “I have to tell you that there's the best news the two of us have had in months.” Bella snagged the waistband of my jeans and tugged me close, squashing her boobs against my chest, her hot minty breath on my face. “You're hired, honey, and you can start this very minute. I do declare this is a fine Monday indeed.”

I pulled free and ran behind the davenport. I'd never run from anything in my life but this was a terrific time to start. “Look,” I said, sweat beading across my forehead. “We're talking business here,” I explained. “Just business and Mercedes has an opening now that—”

“Conway Adkins bit the big one,” Bella said in a pout. “We know. You're a lot more what we're wanting at the moment but Mercedes is good, too. We've got to be thinking about Clive and Crenshaw moving on like they're bound to be doing in the near future.”

“Your lips to God's ears,” Anna added on a weary sigh.

“You know about Conway?” I asked, trying for more information. “What do you think happened?”

Anna sat on the arm of the blue brocade wingback chair and unsnapped the next button on her already low-cut silk blouse. “He treated the workers at the Olde Harbor Inn poorly, sizzled the sheets with married women, bribed and lied to get what he wanted, and even tried to talk Clive and Crenshaw out of marrying us, and once we did, he tried to get the boys to change their will. Do you believe he did such a thing? We've never forgiven him for it, I can tell you that. Even his own son doesn't have any use for him unless it's to wheedle money, like that's going to happen. Conway cut Tucker off long ago.”

“Are you sure?”

“Honey, if it had to do with money and it's in Savannah, we're sure,” Anna said. “But let's not talk about that now.”

Bella curled her fingers in my hair, her lips inches from mine, the front door really, really far away. “The only thing that matters to Anna and me,” Bella whispered, “Is you showing up all tall and tan and delicious. Do you really put notches on your bed?”

“Nachos in bed?”

“Notches to keep count of your . . . exploits. That's what we hear and this is your chance to add two more,” Anna said, coming closer, sandwiching me in the middle with Bella.

“More? There isn't more. There aren't any.”

“Oh, there sincerely should be.” Anna ran her fingers along my jaw and Bella pinched my butt. I backed down the hallway behind me, hoping for a door at the other end, Bella and Anna stalking.

“You got the wrong idea,” I said.

“We like the idea we have just fine,” Anna purred. “Bella and I share everything. Give us five minutes and we'll show you how much fun it can be.”

I'd been in gang fights, bar brawls, and courtroom knock-down-drag-outs, but none of them held a candle to two women on the prowl. What the heck do I do now?

My back connected with a doorknob. If it was locked I was dead meat, and visions of old men with big loaded shotguns flashed through my brain. Clive and Crenshaw just might not believe I was here for a business-only house call. Anna's eyes got beady, and there was a sneer on Bella's lips. “You don't think we're good enough for the likes of you, is that it?”

“You're fine. Terrific. Is a half hour up yet?” I held my breath, turned the doorknob, and went weak with relief when it opened. I slipped outside, hightailing it around to the street. Crowds of tourists with maps and cameras never looked so good.

I jumped into the Chevy, not even bothering to open the door. I sucked in a deep steadying breath then headed for my office over on Columbia Square, ecstatic at the thought of going to work. I kept one eye on the traffic and one on my rearview mirror, watching for male octogenarians with loaded weaponry coming after me. I parked the Chevy and climbed the stone steps to my office. Mondays and me never got along and after this morning, I gave serious thought to tearing all the Mondays off the calendar for the rest of the year.

“Where have you been?” Dinky yelped, scrambling from behind her desk as I walked in. Like any good secretary she thrust a wad of notepaper at me. “Mercedes wanted to know if you were here yet and something about the marines. Steffy Lou Adkins can meet for a few minutes tomorrow morning at the Plantation Club to talk about the theater fund-raiser but as you might expect the poor girl's in a complete tizzy over her father-in-law being dead as a fence post.” Dinky stopped with the notes and cut her eyes in my direction. “You? The Plantation Club?”

“Steffy Lou's a member.”

“There's something else you're not saying and nothing good's coming from it. For Pete's sake wear a jacket, it's the rules, and try real hard not to deck anyone, there's not enough in petty cash right now to go bailing you out.” Dinky made the sign of the cross and flipped to the next note.

“Detective Ross called saying she's throwing you in the clink if you stole her last doughnut, and you're due in court in fifteen minutes to get Sister Mary Louise out of another speeding ticket. Lead Foot Louise is trying to get to heaven the fast way if you ask me.”

“Do we have any coffee brewed up?”

“Pot's full.”

Sexist or not I gave Dinky a kiss on the cheek. She'd been with me for five years, saved my recently pinched butt more times than I could count, and seemed to have an in with the man upstairs.

I took care of business, and by seven I'd had enough of Monday and headed for Abe's on Lincoln, the dive watering hole of Savannah regulars. The place had low ceilings, wood tables, smoky jazz, and a well-stocked bar. I decided to hoof it there since parking was a nightmare at this time of night and a red vintage convertible a moving target that even Anna and Bella's husbands couldn't miss. I took Habersham and cut through Warren Square, the dim lamplight peeking through the trees and moss swaying in the breeze.

“Dawg,” Big Joey said to me as I slipped onto a stool next to his, everyone in the place giving Big Joey space. “Know you'd show.” Big Joey was built like a Mack truck, muscles buffed to jet black, gold tooth, ponytail, the main man of the Seventeenth Street gang . . . my former home and forever family. He was my brother in every sense of the word except parental commonality.

“Not exactly your hood,” I said to Big Joey as Bobby Lee put down a fresh beer in front of him without being asked, and poured my usual bourbon, the slim bottle and Woodford label catching my eye. Adkins and I didn't have much in common, heck we had nothing in common except mutual dislike, Mercedes, and an appreciation for fine drink.

“Things blew up at Adkins's, you in the mix,” Joey said, his voice low and blending into the surrounding chatter. “One mean dude. Deep pockets, always up in your grill dishing dirt. I'm smellin' trouble. You cool?”

“Aw, you're worried about me.” I grinned over the rim of my glass.

Big Joey didn't grin back. “Bad vibes about that guy for as long as I can remember. I got your back, bro.” He took a gulp of beer then slid off his seat. His hand rested heavy on my shoulder, his intense black eyes meeting mine. Only time I'd seen Joey like this was when I thought about dropping out of law school and he threatened to beat my ass. “Ya got my digits,” he said. “Use 'em when you need 'em.”

“Hey, you're worked up for nothing,” I said to him. “Conway's gone, out of my life. We had a few run-ins but it's over.”

“Negative,
kemosabe
. Later.”

I had good street instincts, but Big Joey's were better. That he had a bad feeling about Conway dead got my attention. But why? I was hunting Conway's killer but I wasn't involved on a personal level. I'd been in much tougher places than this. Heck, this was business as usual.

*   *   *

“Well, I do declare the world is coming to a complete and total end,” Steffy Lou Adkins wailed early the next morning as she glided over to sit down beside me on the leather couch at the Plantation Club. Stained glass windows at the far end turned the gray carpet blue and gold, and the brass chandelier in the center sparkled. The old English bar in the corner was an understated focal point, and heavy chairs, tables, and leather couches made the area a perfect meeting place for the rich and notables to be seen by other rich and notables.

Steffy Lou smoothed her black mourning dress that showed enough leg and cleavage to keep the gossips cackling for the rest of the week. She ordered a cappuccino from a blonde waitress in a white ruffled apron who looked familiar even though I wasn't a member of the club and . . . and—

Reagan
! I sloshed my coffee onto the table in front of me nearly knocking over a vase of fresh flowers. I gave Reagan a
what the heck are you doing here
look. She gave me a
keep your mouth shut
look in return. Why would Reagan be at the Plantation Club of all places?

“Are you all right, Walker dear,” Steffy Lou asked. “You're looking kind of peaked this morning, like you met up with something that didn't quite agree with you.”

“You have no idea.” I sighed, dragging myself back to Steffy Lou and our meeting. Steffy Lou was thirty-something and bound for Broadway till Tucker Adkins proposed right there in the middle of the Atlanta airport. The big rock on her finger and the fact that Tucker had just purchased the Hampton Lillibridge House, ghosts and all, might have had something to do with Steffy Lou saying yes. Ghosts in Savannah were never a deterrent to buying property but viewed more as cranky extended family that didn't pay taxes.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” I said to Steffy Lou. I put down my cup and took her hand.

Steffy Lou whipped her notebook from her purse. “Oh, there's no need to be fretting today, I didn't lose my notes after all, everything's right in here.”

It might be Tuesday but it was still acting like Monday. “Uh, Conway? Between the eyes? Eternal Slumber?”

“Lordy me.” Steffy Lou blinked a few times. “
That
loss, of course. I keep trying to forget about this awful occurrence is all, can't believe it's true.” Steffy Lou dabbed at her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief that cost more than my shirt. “Why anyone would go and hurt Daddy Conway I'll never understand,” she sniveled. “He truly was the dearest man on this here Earth, treating me like the daughter he never had, bless his heart.”

“Are you still going to sell his dining room set and living room couch?” Reagan said as she handed Steffy Lou her cappuccino. “I can get a good price.”

“Pardon me?” Steffy blinked a few times and stared at the Prissy Fox consignment shop business card Reagan shoved in her hand. I mouthed
Get lost
to Reagan. She stuck her tongue out at me then strutted off.

“I simply don't know how we'll get though this,” Steffy Lou whimpered then blew her nose, underscoring her distress. “When I finally reached Tucker out in California the poor man cried and carried on something terrible right there on the phone. The help's working their fingers to the bone getting Lillibridge ready for receiving people paying their respects, and I'm picking Tucker up at the airport in an hour.”

“A true hardship.”

“Oh my, yes indeed.” Steffy Lou put away her handkerchief and straightened her shoulders. “Okay, now that we got that out of the way we need to get on with the benefit.”

“It can wait till next week.”

“Honey.” Steffy Lou grabbed my arm. “It's saving the theater we're talking about, live performances, audiences clapping and cheering, and bouquets of flowers.” She batted her eyes and got a faraway look. “I just love the cheering and flowers.”

“And Conway would have wanted you to carry on as usual,” I added.

“Well, of course. It's our civic duty, and we are pillars of the Savannah community after all. People will be flying in from all over to pay their respects.” Steffy Lou crossed her legs that had to reach clear to her armpits and she flipped open her notebook complete with colored tabs and an index. “Let's see now, you've got all the legal work in order and the ticket sales are due to start up next week. All the merchants on Tybee are selling them. Red, white, and blue is the color scheme and Sundae Cafe is doing their delicious fried chicken, sweet potato fries, fried okra, and key lime pie.”

“Think that's too much fried?”

Steffy Lou's jaw dropped. “Bless my soul, Walker Boone, it's that
Dr. Oz Show
influence that's trickled down here and done gotten to you. It's a big old Yankee conspiracy, if you ask me, to go and ruin the South. Besides, okra's a vegetable and lime's fruit, so what more could anyone want?”

“My apologies.”

“Accepted. And since I just saved us all from that toxic Northern influence we can now get to the best part of all.” She crossed her legs in the other direction and fluffed her hair. “There seem to be three spots left in the talent show and I'll be filling in out of the goodness of my little old heart. I got the songs picked out and new dresses ordered. Don't you just love that Barbra Streisand song ‘People'?”

“More than life itself.”

Steffy Lou cleared her throat, sat up straighter, and started to hum. The hum got louder, then she sang a few words before bursting into full song right there on the spot, everyone in the club room staring. People clapped, Steffy Lou stood, bowed, and snagged the vase of white hydrangeas off the coffee table. She clutched them to her breasts and looked pleased as Southern punch.

Steffy Lou and her flowers pranced off to comfort the grieving Tucker at the airport, and I finished my coffee, wondering if anyone really cared that Conway Adkins was on a slab over at the Slumber.

“Why are you still here?” Reagan stage-whispered to me, pad and pencil poised as if taking an order. She had her hair pinned up and looked efficient in her black-and-white uniform.

“Nice outfit.”

“It's a little small.” Reagan wiggled to get a better fit, popping the top button on the uniform, exposing a touch of cleavage.

“Why are
you
here?”

“Auntie KiKi's minding the shop so I can fill in for a friend and . . . and pick up a little extra cash to send Bruce Willis to doggie day care. It's the in thing to do in case you didn't know and I don't want him to feel left out. He could get a complex and need therapy.”

I sat back in my leather chair and laughed. “You'd take a bullet to the heart rather then trust anyone else with BW. Is that really the best story you can come up with? Therapy?”

“Well, if you must know, I didn't exactly expect to see you but the KiKi part is true enough and my guess is you're here to get the skinny on VP Mason Dixon.”

“And that's why you're here?”

Reagan leaned closer. “KiKi told me about the letter of discontent found under the desk at you-know-who's house. Seems to me like the second big kahuna floating around here wants to be the main man.”

“Miss.” It was second kahuna Mason Dixon himself signaling to Reagan from two tables over. “We'd like to order.”

And that
we
part included none other than Grayden Russell. Okay, what was this all about? Russell was new to town, and he wasn't here to sample the crab cakes. What was this guy up to and how did Mason Dixon fit in?

“Don't you dare do anything without me,” Reagan whispered. “There's more going on here at the club than a secret handshake.” Reagan hurried over to the table, and I watched as she scribbled the orders. When she headed to the bar to drop it off I walked over to Russell.

Something was going on with Russell and with Dixon and the best way to get information was to shake things up. I might be a lawyer but I didn't belong here. I belonged to a street gang; didn't even own a tie; and had the pedigree of a mutt with no father and a runaway mother, and was raised by Grandma Hilly on the wrong side of the tracks. All that was worth at least a tremor or two around here.