A Friend in the Glass (An Auden & O’Callaghan Mystery #3)

Chapter Twelve

“Give me that press release.”

With a raised eyebrow, Sam held it out. “What are we going to say?”

Rufus snatched the paper while echoing, “We? We aren’t saying anything. I’m saying something. You stay here and look pretty.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know you heard me.” Rufus smirked before pivoting on his heel and strolling into the dimly lit bar. Delmer Jolly sat alone, tapping at his phone in one hand, the other holding a tumbler of rich amber liquid. It was probably scotch, Rufus decided. Scotch felt like a rich man’s drink. He pulled out the chair beside Del and made a show of sitting down—just to annoy the guy a little. “How’s it hangin’?” Rufus asked.

Del arched one trimmed white eyebrow. “Good morning.”

Rufus shrugged. “It’s a morning. So, you visiting the city?”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“My manners. You’d think I was raised by an underage hooker.” Rufus held a hand out. “Rufus Smith.”

Del considered his hand. Then he moved his phone and glass closer. “I’m sorry, Mr. Smith. I’m flattered, of course. But I’m not interested. No offense.” He smiled thinly. “You understand.”

Rufus lowered his hand a fraction before blurting, “What? Oh no, no, no. I’m not into older guys. I mean—a few years is fine, but you’re in a completely different generational bracket.” Unfolding the paper, Rufus put it on the tabletop, but with a palm firmly over it so it couldn’t be snatched. “JLTV models M1279.S and M1280.S,” he read. “Wow. That’s a mouthful. I’ll just call it Stonefish. So it was a big success, huh?”

This time, both eyebrows went up, and it looked like Del was fighting the urge to lean forward to inspect the paper. “That’s a nice bit of showmanship. I’m supposed to wonder what you have.”

“But you are wondering, aren’t you?” Rufus met Del’s steady gaze with one of his shit-eating grins.

On the other side of the tinted glass, traffic ebbed and flowed. Light glanced off a taxi’s windows, but it looked gray and matte through the treated glass. A horn blared. It sounded like it was a mile off.

Del pocketed his phone. He sipped his scotch, and as the glass clicked against the table, he said, “I assume Stonefish is supposed to mean something to me. Why don’t you tell me what you want, Mr. Smith, and quit wasting my time?”

Rufus smoothed the paper a few times, enough for the action to hold Del’s attention, then he carefully folded the top down so that the string of numbers on the backside was visible. “Why don’t you start with Shareed Baker and finish with why she’d want you and your sales lady to have her bank account and routing number.” He looked at Del, and with feigned ignorance, said, “Weird.”

“I don’t know anyone by that name, and I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d like you to leave now.”

“Oh, sure, sure. I have to call my cop-daddy with the NYPD anyway.”

“I’m sure he’ll be interested in—what was it you said?” Del started to rise. “Good luck to you.”

“That sure lit a fire under your ass. First you wanted me to leave, but then maybe I mention the cops, maybe I mention they’re investigating a dead woman found in her hotel room yesterday, maybe I even mention said dead woman had a financial interest in you and your expo buddies, and suddenly you’ve gotta run?”

“A dead woman,” Del said. He still had one hand on the table. His fingertips were bloodless. “What are you talking about?”

Rufus narrowed his eyes a little. His tone shifted from something playful and cocky to somber as he answered, “Shareed Baker called the Javits over and over just before she died. She died after having left Evangeline Ridgeway with what amounted to blackmail. That’s what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t know what I could possibly have to do with—”

“Yes, you do. That’s why you want to get the fuck out of here.”

Del’s lips pressed together, pinched and white. With what looked like a great deal of effort, he peeled his hand from the table in a slow, controlled movement. “I was on a Conasauga jet yesterday morning with the rest of my staff. Whatever happened to that poor woman, whoever she is, I had nothing to do with it. Goodbye, Mr. Smith. If you contact me again, you’ll hear from my lawyer.”

Rufus raised a hand to the side of his head and saluted Del as the older man left the bar. He waited a full minute before helping himself to the rest of Del’s mostly untouched drink, and then walked out. Rufus was coughing and thumping his chest as he returned to Sam. “That bartender pours strong.”

“What’d he say?”

Rufus finished clearing his throat. “He denied everything. The only thing I could get out of him that wasn’t I have no idea what you’re talking about , was that he was on a Conasauga jet yesterday morning—when Shareed died.”

Sam’s hands tightened and then relaxed. “That makes sense. If he was involved—if—he would have sent someone else to do it. It doesn’t tell us anything one way or another.”

“It tells us Conasauga has a jet,” Rufus replied. “I’d be curious to find out how many of the folks at MoDe were on that jet at the same time.”

“Sure. It’s worth finding out.”

Rufus scratched the stubble on his chin. “Would Lew have been on that jet, you think?”

“No.”

“We should find out where he was yesterday morning.” Rufus hastily continued, “But before you kill Lew, we have to consider the fact that this press release was in Evangeline’s room, and that Del jumped to alibi himself when I mentioned Shareed was dead. Whatever’s going on is messier than what I expected. We need to talk to Lew.”

Sam opened his mouth, but he must have changed what he was going to say because he hesitated. “So let’s talk to him. Move things along so we can get to the killing part.”

“Don’t turn into the Incredible Hulk just yet.” Rufus started for the revolving door before stopping so abruptly that he nearly tripped over his own two feet.

Lew Frazer, still big, still built, and still bronze, had just entered the hotel. His commanding presence swallowed up the air around him, and if Rufus hadn’t already known his background, he’d have definitely pegged the guy as military or at least a Suit at one of the many alphabet agencies.

Speaking of suits—Brady Ellsworth stood behind Lew like an obedient little gremlin—and two more men Rufus didn’t recognize completed the entourage.

Rufus backpedaled into Sam.

Sam glanced around. “Mother. Fucker. Frazer, good, you just saved me the trouble of finding your ass so I can put you in the ground.”

Rufus turned slightly and dug his elbow into Sam’s chest while hissing, “Stop it.”

Lew flashed an easy smile. “Auden. It’s been a while. I’ve been looking for you. Let’s go for a ride.”

“We’re good, actually,” Rufus answered for Sam, who felt so taut under his touch that Rufus half expected him to snap like a broken rubber band. “Those taxis cost an arm and a leg these days.”

The look from Lew took him in and dismissed him, all in an instant. Brady, on the other hand, was staring murder at Rufus. Apparently he hadn’t forgotten round one.

“There’s no reason we need to make this difficult,” Lew said to Sam. “You show up, you start poking your nose in, well, it makes people uncomfortable. So let’s go for a ride, and we’ll figure out how everybody walks away from this happy.”

“What did I tell you, Lew?” Sam asked. He had a hand on Rufus’s shoulder, and he was trying to move him from his path. “What did I say?”

“You were upset. You and that kid were butt—” Lew’s smile had a frat boy’s guilty charm. “Close. I didn’t hold it against you.”

“I told you if I ever saw you again, there wouldn’t be enough left of you to bury.”

Then he shoved Rufus aside and launched himself at Lew.

Rufus stumbled and came just short of toppling over the brochure stand. He needed to put on weight so he couldn’t be flung around like a damn leaf in a hurricane. He turned, saw Sam grab Lew, saw Brady clench his fists, and then Rufus threw himself on the bomb ready to detonate.

“Sam, stop!” Rufus wormed his way in between Sam and Lew and tried to push his boyfriend back, which was akin to pushing a brick wall.

“Hey!” the white guy with locs at the front desk shouted. He held the desk phone in one hand and was shaking the receiver at them. “Are you all fuckin’ kidding me? Don’t make me call the cops.”

“Back the fuck away,” Rufus said sternly to Sam.

“What you did to Went,” Sam shouted, “what you did to Shareed, I’m going to make you pay for it, Frazer!”

“Chill out,” Rufus snapped. “The last fucking thing I want to do is call Erik from a jail cell.”

“Sorry about the disturbance,” Lew called to the front desk clerk. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“Fuck your misunderstandings,” Sam shouted, still trying to get past Rufus. “And fuck you.”

Brady took a step forward, like he was more than happy to meet Sam halfway.

“ Sam ,” Rufus said again. He took ahold of Sam’s biceps and gave him a hard shake. “Stop. I’m not bailing you out.” He said to Brady, “And unless you want to piss blood for the rest of the week, step off my ass, buddy.”

Brady’s expression darkened, but he stopped moving forward.

Rufus finally spoke to Lew. “So when’d you get into town?”

This time, Lew seemed to take Rufus in as though seeing him for the first time. He smirked at Sam. “You didn’t always like them so skinny. He’s got a little more pep than Went, though, doesn’t he?”

Sam’s answer was a rumble in his chest. At least, for the moment, he’d stopped trying to thrust Rufus to one side.

“We’ll have that talk another time, Auden. Figure out how everybody walks away from this with what they want. See you around.”

Rufus shifted, moving so that he always stood in front of Sam as Lew, Brady, and the Dingbat Twins made for the bank of elevators. He waited until the elevator rattled opened, the party stepped inside, and then disappeared. He turned and gave Sam a final shove. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sam glared past him, his gaze fixed on the street.

“Don’t ignore me. We agreed to talk to him. But the second you made eye contact you went feral.” Rufus swore, put his hands on his hips, and after a beat, asked Sam, “Are you going to do this every time? Because we’re gonna cross paths with Lew again.”

After a moment, he managed, “Maybe.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know.”