The bar was nearly empty. A handful of zombielike patrons sat with heads bowed over drinks, the only acknowledgment of their coexistence a mingling of cigarette smoke that drifted up from the tables. The old wood blades of the ceiling fans rotated overhead, barely stirring warm air that reeked of sweat, booze and despair.
Welcome back, welcome back, welcome back.
Dave took a seat at the end of the bar, where he could watch the door. He hadnt been a cop for nearly seven years, but old habits died hard.
From the other end, the hulk of a bartender watched him with open suspicion. He was tall and tough, with skin the texture of leather. Jubal Roach had to be at least sixty, but the forearms underneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves bulged with muscle, and his sullen expression reflected, as Dave knew only too well, a still-murderous disposition.
Daves old partner had once warned him about Jubals temper. Theyd stopped in for a beer after their watch one night and the surly bartender had copped an attitude from the get-go. Back in the day, Dave hadnt been one to turn the other cheek.
Man, let it go, Titus had said in a nervous whisper. You dont want to tangle with that S.O.B. Once he start in whaling on you, he like a big ol loggerhead. He aint gonna let you go till it thunders. Or till you dead.
It was good advice. Too bad Dave hadnt had the sense to heed it.
He and Jubal played the staring game for several more seconds, then, with a hardening of his features, the older man ambled down to Daves end of the bar.
Jubal. Dave greeted him warily, mindful of the nightstick and brass knuckles the bartender kept under the counter. Hows it going?
Dave Creasy. Been a while since I saw your ugly mug in here. Kinda thought you might be dead.
Kinda hoped was the inference. I bought a place in St. Mary Parish awhile back.
Same difference, you ask me. Jubal got down a glass and a bottle of whiskey. The usual?
Nah, Im on the wagon these days.
Since when?
Eight months, four days, nine hours and counting. Since the last time I got thrown in jail for disorderly conduct.
Jubals gold tooth flashed in the light from the Abita Purple Haze sign over the bar.
Dave touched the area over his left eye. His memories of that night had faded, but the scar hadnt. It had taken him two days to get out of the drunk tank, another five before hed stumbled into the nearest emergency room with a raging fever. The infection had laid him flat for nearly two weeks, and by the time he got out of the hospital, fifteen pounds lighter, a jagged scar was the least of his worries.
Youre lucky you didnt lose your eye, the young intern had scolded him. However, at the moment, Im more concerned about your liver. You have what is known as alcohol hepatitis, which can be treated but only if alcohol consumption is stopped. Otherwise, this condition is likely to cause cirrhosis, Mr. Creasy, hed stated bluntly. If you dont stop drinking, theres a good chance you wont make it to your fortieth birthday.
Dave wasnt particularly worried about dying, but he would prefer not to go out the way his old man had. So hed stopped drinkingagain, started going back to AA, and hed moved down to Morgan City to work part-time for his uncle while reopening Creasy Investigations. Marsilius had found him a little house on the bayou where he could live and set up shop until he was able to afford office space in town. The only problem with that arrangement was that his uncle now considered it his moral duty to keep Dave on the straight and narrow.
As if testing Daves resolve, Jubal poured a shot of Jack Daniels and slid the tumbler across the bar. First ones on the house. For old times sake.
No thanks, but Ill take a cup of that coffee I smell brewing.
Suit yourself. Jubal filled a cup and passed it to Dave. If youre not drinking, what brings you in here?
Im meeting someone. Dave lifted the cup and took a sip of the strong chicory blend. The coffee was hot. It scalded his tongue and he swore as the front door swung open. And in walked Angelette Lapierre.
She stood in the doorway taking stock of the room just as she always did. That was Daves first memory of her, the way shed planted herself on the threshold of the captains office, her gaze sweeping the room as the group of homicide detectives huddled over a map had looked up with a collective indrawn breath.
Dave had been married back then and in love with his wife, but he couldnt help noticing Angelette. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, shed had that dog-in-heat quality that drew men to her side and made any woman unfortunate enough to be in the same room dislike her on sight.
Dave had tried to ignore her, but later in the crowded squad room, hed glanced up to find her watching him, and her slow smile had sent a shiver down his backbone. Something that might have been a warning glinted in her sultry eyes that day, and Dave would later wish that hed taken heed of it.
But instead, hed told himself there was no harm in looking. What Claire didnt know wouldnt hurt her.
Claire.
Dave winced at the memory. He didnt want to think about her at that moment. He didnt want to think about her ever. She was a part of his past. One of the ghosts that came out to haunt him on rainy summer nights.
But he couldnt help himself. He closed his eyes briefly as an image of his ex-wife appeared in his head. She wasnt as curvy or as beautiful as Angelette, but her appeal was far more dangerous because she was the kind of woman you could never get out of your system. No matter how much you drank.
As if she was reading his mind, Angelettes expression hardened. Her gaze seemed to pierce right through him, and then she blinked and the daggers were gone. The familiar smile flashed, dazzled, even as her chin lifted in defiance.
Same old Angelette.
She wore a blue dress, transparent from where she stood in the doorway. Jubal leaned an elbow on the bar and swore under his breath. Together he and Dave watched her walk with fluid grace to the stool next to Daves, a whiff of something seductive preceding her.
Still smiling, she placed her purse on the bar and crossed her legs, letting that blue dress skate up her slender thighs.
I dont want no trouble, Jubal warned.
She tossed back her dark hair and laughed. I dont want any trouble, either.
You start throwing beer bottles like you did last time, Im calling the law on both of you.
I am the law, remember? She laughed again, but her amusement didnt quite reach her eyes. Just relax, okay? Dave and I kissed and made up a long time ago. Didnt we, Dave?
If you say so. He was all for letting bygones be bygones, but when Angelette leaned over to brush her lips against his, he couldnt help tensing.
Her gaze lit on the scar above his eye. Wow. Did I do that?
Better than a tattoo.
Speaking of tattoosI got myself a new one. Remind me to show it to you sometime.
Dave let that one go. He might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, as Marsilius frequently pointed out, but hed learned his lesson with Angelette.
Not getting the response she wanted, she turned to Jubal. Double whiskey.
There was something about Angelette that Dave hadnt remembered from before. Shed always had an edge. Had always been able to give as good as she got. An ambitious female detective had to know how to handle herself in a mans world. But it wasnt that. It wasnt her years as a cop that had given her face a brittle veneer. It was selling out. Being on the take for too long had chipped away at her sensuality and left in its wake something hard and unpleasant and faintly decadent.
Dave cradled his cup, gratified to note that his hands no longer trembled. He hadnt felt this steady in years. So how did the anger management classes go? He knew the question was likely to set her off. Angelette didnt like being called on her bullshitby him or by the judge whod ordered her into the classesbut Dave couldnt resist goading her a little.
She surprised him. Instead of rising to the bait, she gave an airy wave with one hand as she lifted her drink with the other. Oh, I finished up months ago. Youre looking at the new and improved Angelette. What do you think?
Not bad.
One brow lifted as her eyes seemed to challenge him. Not bad? There was a time when you couldnt keep your hands off me, you bastard. Youre not faring too badly yourself. Youve put on a little weight, but it suits you. I was never all that partial to scrawny guys. A girl has to have something to hang on to, right, Jubal? She gave the bartender a wink.
Not bad.
One brow lifted as her eyes seemed to challenge him. Not bad? There was a time when you couldnt keep your hands off me, you bastard. Youre not faring too badly yourself. Youve put on a little weight, but it suits you. I was never all that partial to scrawny guys. A girl has to have something to hang on to, right, Jubal? She gave the bartender a wink.
The older man glared at her with open suspicion. You want another drink?
Oui, bien sûr. She waited for him to pour the whiskey, then picked up her glass. Lets move over to a booth. She slid off the stool, and as she turned, her full breasts brushed up against Daves arm for a split second before she moved away.
He got up and, taking his coffee with him, followed her to a back booth. By the time he sat down, shed already finished her second drink.
Maybe you ought to ease up on the hooch.
What is that? A friendly piece of advice from one drunk to another? Her face was flushed and her voice sounded strained as she folded her arms on the table.
Something was wrong. Dave could feel it. Her eyes wouldnt quite meet his. Instead, she watched the steam rising from his cup that drifted up between them.
What did you want to see me about?
Her gaze darted to the front door, and Dave noticed that shed chosen a booth where they both had a view of the entrance. Hed taught her that. The things shed taught him didnt come in so handy these days.
Im seeing someone. I wanted you to hear it from me first. She ran a fingernail around the rim of her empty glass and Dave could tell she wanted another drink. He knew that feeling, that hunger. It was like a needy old friend you could never get rid of.