Where The Devil Won't Go: A Lucas Peyroux Novel Read online

  “What can I do about it?” Chance said. “I don’t want to break the girl’s heart.”

  I took a scallop in my mouth. “And I don’t want you to break her heart. We’ve all been there. You’ve handled her crush perfectly. I just didn’t know it would last this many months.”

  “She’s becoming a very beautiful lady. She looks just like Heather.”

  “It’s just so weird.”

  “Ha… it creeps you out that she’s into me. That’s hysterical.”

  “Don’t say into me. Let’s stick with crush.” I shifted took a piece of bread.

  “Wow. Talk about Daddy’s little girl.”

  “When did you stop being ‘Uncle Chance’?”

  “I don’t know. When did she get her training bra?”

  “Watch it, Heffner.” I pointed my fork at him. “So, have you ever tried Almas Caviar?”

  He fixed his eyes on mine. “They don’t serve it here.”

  “You’re pretty quick to know that.”

  “I know the whole menu.”

  “But, Harry Winslow, Esquire has some over at Winning One.”

  He frowned. “Harry called me about your visit.”

  “Boom. There it is.”

  He put his elbows on the table in order to crack his knuckles, one by one. “I want to know what’s going on with your investigation.”

  “Did you know from the onset that my River Doe was connected to Winslow? Is that why you came by my house?”

  “Like I’m some crazy, French Quarter psychic? Get real.” He scowled.

  “Fine.” I didn’t push it. “I didn’t even get the chance to question Harry Winslow, Esquire, yet. He cried to you already? How you know each other?”

  “He said you harassed his receptionist.”

  “It’s only harassment when they got something to hide.”

  He casually sipped his water. “I’m eventually going to run for governor of Louisiana.”

  “I figured that, Chance. Everyone knows you weren’t stopping at mayor.”

  “Harry is going to run my campaign. We’ve been working very close together, so of course when you and Tara go into his company and grill his staff about some imaginary party, he’s going to tell me about it.”

  “You better not be telling me to cool it.”

  He pointed toward me with his fork. “I’m just not sure you’re looking up the right alley.”

  “Consider it a proper vetting. You don’t want to be involved with a criminal, do you?”

  Chance wiped his mouth and then threw his napkin on the table. “I’m concerned. You associate a murder with him and his company, you’ll ruin his credibility.”

  “It was bound to happen, eh?”

  “What?”

  “You’re the mayor. I’m a detective. There was bound to be a favor to be had somewhere. We couldn’t just be friends and leave the politics out of it. You are actually sitting there inferring that I leave your pal out of my investigation.”

  “I’m not suggesting you stop or alter your investigation. Go on and question the shit out of him for all I care. Our being friends is exactly why I’m warning you.”

  “Warning me?”

  “Harry’s political arm reaches far beyond me. Let’s just say if you irritate the wrong people, they won’t be inviting you out to dinner.”

  “Is that what you do, Chance? Crush your enemies? Victory at any cost?”

  He made a sour face, offended. “That doesn’t deserve a response.”

  I finished the last of my beer. “You’re a good guy, Chance. You can only swim with sharks for so long before they realize you’re not a shark. Then what?”

  Chance’s body slumped. “You know how New Orleans politics go. You run, you’re elected, you’re indicted. I’m going to break that cycle. And for the record, if I wanted you to stop your investigation, I’d tell you that plainly in a direct sentence.”

  I nodded. “I know you would.” And he would.

  “My concern extends to people I can’t control who might want you to stop the investigation.”

  I stared at him. For the first time, I saw Chance as a politician.

  Chapter 19

  Night approached and the Quarter breathed a little deeper. And like a vampire that wakes at dusk to suck the blood from its victims, so too, had Bourbon Street.

  After walking life back into her numb buttocks, Cozy stood alone near St. Peter Street, having walked past Molly’s Girls three times. She figured it would be easier to maneuver around the inside while the club was filled up, so she waited until after the dinner rush when the real partying began.

  On the opposite corner of where she stood, The Cat’s Meow drew the crowd’s attention to its huge open windows and packed balcony. It was the Quarter’s most famous karaoke bar and a landmark in which to give directions. Her stomach rumbled and tugged at her in waves. She could beg for more food, maybe show her boobs again. Lucky Dogs were cheap and filling and the corner vendor appeared to be straight. She cast her gaze into the crowd if only to make sure those cops weren’t around. If she appeared to be a local expecting someone, drunk tourists and college kids looking to get laid might not bother her.

  Neon lights under balconies radiated adventure, beckoning wallets and purses to be opened for food, loud noise called music, souvenirs, or a sexual experience. Sal had said take Bourbon Street out of the equation and New Orleans could possibly return to her former glory. She saw his point.

  As the music and the crowds grew rowdier, Cozy thought that perhaps it was time to enter the lion’s den. A cheesy car salesman type stood in front of Molly’s Girls trying to solicit anyone who would look at him. On both sides of the open door were large posters of extremely attractive women wearing lots of makeup and little else. And inside the doorway was a fantasy world colored in muted red light.

  “Hey, dawlin’. C’mon in. Ladies drink free.”

  “Free drinks?” Cozy strained her neck trying to see past the dark wall just within the entrance.

  “Hell, yes. Female patrons classy up the joint, ya know?” His eyes disappeared in a wrinkled smile.

  Cozy pushed his hand away as he tried to guide her in. Heavy Metal music blared from within, peppered with some cat-calls. Her stomach shrunk. “You have snacks? Like pretzels?”

  “Nuts and pretzels and popcorn. We got a kitchen. You can order food from a menu if you want. Go on in.”

  The man only waved his hand this time, showing her the obvious path. She stepped in like it was a ride for a haunted house, expecting half-naked ladies with clown makeup to jump out of the shadows. The room opened to an expansive space, much bigger than she would assume from outside. The stage was a large T-shape with a pole at each end. She hugged the wall for a few feet until she hit the bar. A bowl of mixed nuts prompted her to scoop a handful.

  “Something to go with that?” An appealing man who reminded her of Thor was one of three bartenders, all with porno actor looks.

  “Coke?”

  “Excellent choice. I’d hate to have to ask you for an ID.” He winked.

  “It’s free, right?”

  “Right.”

  He pushed a tall, narrow glass towards her. It had six ounces of Coke at best. She drank it down in two swallows and took an ice cube into her mouth. The man refilled the glass.

  “First time?” He asked.

  Cozy dipped her chin.

  “Sit back and enjoy. It’s really more harmless than most prudes think.” He smiled and walked off to fill an order from a waitress.

  She propped one of her butt cheeks onto the bar stool, leaving one foot on the floor in case she needed get-away traction. In the distant glow, a gorgeous, curvy woman wearing Victoria’s Secret type underwear wedged herself between a man’s knees. His middle-aged friends cheered her on as she whispered in his ear. He agreed to something and they both walked hand-in-hand to a back room closed off with a curtain.

  Her vantage point allowed a partial view of the couple through a
seam. He sat on a small couch and the show immediately started. Her ass found his crotch and she gyrated in circles. It didn’t take long for her to unhook the bra, exposing her tits just inches from his face. He raised his hands to caress them, but she caught his exploring fingers with swift rejection. Instead, she placed his nose in her cleavage and her thigh massaged the inside of his.

  After the song ended, the man shook his head in answer to a question and the attraction drained from her face. He handed her money; how much Cozy couldn’t tell. She knew what strippers were about, but this was Haley’s work environment. Tease a man, show your wares and get paid for it. That was basically how she got her rent with Sal. Did Haley work here as a dancer or waitress? Did she massage men’s cocks for a living?

  She took her drink and a bowl of peanuts to an empty table in the darkest corner. The rotation of the women flirted for private dances, with clientele bellied up at the edge of the stage, inserting bills into the g-strings of their favorites. Bouncers with earpieces had been strategically placed around the room like giant Roman eunuchs ready to mess someone up. She was a fly on the wall.

  Talking to a dancer would be the easiest route to go, but pick the wrong one and she could sour the entire crew against her. Most of these girls were probably a tight-knit bunch like the cliques she had experienced in high school. Was she being paranoid? All she wanted to do was find out if her sister worked here. Find out if she was well-liked. Maybe she’d even had a best friend here.

  A hall with offices in the back caught her vision. Perhaps Molly was in there, if she was even a person at all. Cozy should talk to the owner of the place, but how do you bring up the subject of one of their murdered dancers who, according to Titus, sold her body?

  Or better yet, she could get a job here and make some quick cash. What if it was days before Porter showed his face again? What if he left town? She might just have to tell Lucas after all. Screw the job application. Go big or go home.

  The pendant hanging from her neck needed to go in her pocket. Two songs later, after working up the courage and while no one paid attention, she forced her butt from the chair and let her shorts fall to the floor. She wasn’t wearing a G-string, but her panties were sexy enough. The bartender Thor had left his station and the bouncers stood bored as she pulled off her tank, sporting a lacy powder-blue bra.

  With a deep breath, she rounded the table and entered the mix like a car entering traffic. She touched a well-dressed, middle-aged gentleman on the shoulder and he smiled as if porn had magically jumped out of his television. He wanted a dance and to her amazement, the bouncer never looked twice as she led the gentleman behind the curtain.

  #

  Cozy snapped her bra cups together in the front before taking the money. Her dance routine wasn’t much different than dirty dancing with Ash. The man adjusted himself before pulling out forty dollars and stuffing it into her cleavage, letting his touch linger. She had found herself turned on at this point, not by the man, but for having the power to give an erection. He exposed large, overlapping teeth in a smile and she ruffled his hair, pushing him back toward his seat.

  The two twenties scratched her boobs as she entered the floor rotation to scan her next prospect, but someone tapped her shoulder instead. “Excuse me, young lady.”

  He was a dark-skinned man in his forties, well-built in his tailored suit. His hair strived for perfect uniformity and he wore the same earpiece as the bouncers. She took him to be the boss, but getting his attention had been the intention all along.

  “Need a dance?”

  “Come with me.”

  “I was planning on it.” She combed her fingers through her hair with the most dignity she could muster, and then weaved between tables to retrieve her clothes. The man returned to the rear hallway with the arrogance of expecting her to follow.

  She felt the stares of the room, like space aliens who knew she wasn’t one of them. Again, doubt about this plan crept in. Screw asking about Haley tonight. This was just a lark. Learning about Haley as just another dancer was the best way to go. But, first she needed to get hired.

  They entered his office two doors down where the man sat in an impressive cushioned chair behind a decrepit desk. The walls contained an array of photos of men and women she didn’t recognize, although one man looked like a young George Bush. A Saints bobble head occupied the corner, probably used to set his employees at ease.

  Two scars on his forehead became apparent in the harsh light and Cozy wondered if he got cut in a bar fight. His eyes were narrow and sunken with dark circles, like he might have been European.

  A tall, sexy woman with long dishwater blonde hair with bangs also entered, closing the door. The guy swiveled, leaned back and brought both his index fingers together at his lips. Cozy quickly dressed, glancing at them like they were a principal and teacher.

  “You called the cops?” She asked in jest.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Keri Sullivan.”

  “Love the accent. How old are you?”

  “Eighteen, but I lost my license.”

  “Eighteen’s legal to enter as long as you don’t drink.”

  The woman exhaled as if bored. Cozy relaxed having the presence of a second person, and a female for that matter. Cozy said, “Your bouncers should pay better attention.”

  “I saw you on surveillance the moment you entered.” He swiveled his laptop to face her. “The bouncers acted on my orders to let you dance. You don’t think we know who all our girls are?”

  “Okay. Did you like what I did out there?”

  “Believe it or not, strip clubs become monotonous. People like you make things interesting.”

  “Don’t fuck with me.”

  “We’re just getting to know one another. I’m Raymond Corondelet. Call me Ray.” He looked at his laptop screen and spoke into his collar. “Vince, table twelve. Keep an eye on him.”

  Cozy made up for lost air with a very deep breath. “You’re in charge here, right Ray? You look like you enjoy power, whether it’s firing someone or just ordering a po’ boy.”

  “I do like my sandwiches made correctly.”

  “Jeez. I feel like you’re going to take me out back and smack me around.” Cozy glanced at the woman. “He’s not going to smack me around, right?”

  “Why did you undress and dance for one of my customers?”

  “Looked like fun.”

  “Fun if you were wasted, showing off for your sorority sisters… You wouldn’t be hard up for cash would you?”

  She shrugged. “Not hard to fathom.”

  “You seem intelligent. What’s your story, Keri?”

  “Kicked out of my house.”

  “Where did you call home?” He inquired.

  “Empire, down south.”

  “Homeless?”

  “I’m not on the street. I got a place.”

  The man had fierce coyote eyes. “So, you want to dance?”

  “I want to make money.”

  “What if I offered you a chance here?”

  “I’d do my best.”

  “Well, normally I’d want an audition, but I think you’ll do fine. This nice lady behind you is Tabitha Wheelhouse.”

  The woman bit at her cuticles. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Talk about liking power? She’s the boss when I’m not around. Hell, she’s pretty much the boss even when I am here. Anything you want, any problem you have, you go to her. You guys go talk, but not in here.”

  The lady pushed off the wall. “C’mon, Keri. There’s a probation period before we officially hire. You can get your hands on proper ID?”

  “Sure.”

  “Let me show you around. Tell you how things work.”

  “Good luck, Keri,” Ray said as they left.

  Cozy followed the confidently bored woman into the main room where strobe lights popped and the bass thumped. They sat at the very table Cozy had found earlier and faced the action. Tabitha held up two fingers to
a waitress, then pointed down at the table like a mob boss. That was so cool. Her eyes finally relaxed.

  “You’re extremely beautiful, Sugar… For this kind of work.”

  “I’m not sure what that means.”

  “Well, you got your different types that work here… Hot body – bag the face, plain face, exotic face, androgynous, black, brown, pale, ethnic, with curves or showing ribs. What’s common between these women is that they’re sexy, but flawed. Your face has nice symmetry. You’re beautiful and you’re eighteen. Your body is tight. That’s rare.”

  Cozy pointed. “That one on stage is beautiful.”

  “Velvet? No, she’s stripper hot. Paint on the makeup and do up the hair and she’ll turn heads at a party, but her family tree grew in a trailer park. Believe me, I make my living as a talent scout. How are your tits?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Real? Fake? Let’s see.”

  “They’re real.” Cozy lifted her shirt and Tabitha gently tested each one from underneath.

  “Amazing. The men are going to empty their wallets for you.”

  “When do I start?”

  “Knowing your financial situation, I won’t put it off. Come in tomorrow night. We’ll start you off on the stage until you get used to the kinds of customers we get. Plus, you have to come up with a stage name. Something dirty, dangerous, provocative or intimate.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Spitfire came to mind when I first saw you.”

  “I like that.”

  “Oh, yeah. I can see a girl and pen her name in seconds.”

  “There’s rules about touching, right?”

  “That’s right. You’ll learn about what’s acceptable and what’s not. There’s a difference between a creep putting his hand on your ass during a personal dance and a lonely husband.”

  “I get it.”

  “And you do not make arrangements to leave here with a customer and take money for sexual favors. Believe me, it’s the easiest thing to do, but if Ray hears about it, you’re gone. Got it? We don’t want any trouble from the cops.”