The kitten looked up at him and trotted toward the kitchenette. Louis followed. The litter box in the corner held a couple days’ worth of poop, and the plastic food dish was licked dry. So was the water dish.
Damn.
Louis opened the cabinet over the sink, looking for some cat food. He spotted a box of Tender Vittles in the back. When he pulled out one of the bags of food, an envelope fell out.
It was letter-sized, a heavy cream-colored paper. Louis slipped a finger under the flap and opened it.
Money. A thin stack of bills. But all of them hundreds.
“Andrew!”
Swann came up to his side. “Jesus. How much is there?”
“Two thousand dollars,” Louis said.
“Payment from Tink Lyons?”
“Who knows?” Louis said. “Might be one night’s work or a week’s worth.”
Louis turned his attention to the envelope, hoping for initials or something, but there was nothing. He was about to slip the money back inside when he saw the embossing on the back flap. The Scotch tape had damaged part of the design, and he had to hold the envelope up to the light to define the pattern.
It was a three-petal stylized flower tied with a band. A fleur-de-lis. The same image glazed on the door of Bianca Lee’s flower shop.
“Get Mel on the phone,” Louis said. “Tell him to get his ass over to Bianca Lee’s flower shop and see if Kavanagh’s with her.”
“You think he’d go to her?” Swann asked.
Louis looked at the bloody shirt on the bed. “I don’t know,” he said. “But if she’s his new boss, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s where he went.”
While Swann made the phone call, Louis took another look around the room to make sure they hadn’t missed anything. Just in case Kavanagh had stashed more cash, he checked everything in the kitchenette, the bottoms of the desk drawers, the base of the lamp, and under the bed.
Swann hung up. “Mel says he’s getting Yuba to drive him over there right now. I told him we’d call back in about thirty minutes to see what he found out.”
Louis pushed to his feet. “Then let’s go.”
Swann pocketed the envelope, turned off the light, and followed Louis outside. It was raining now, big fat drops that hit the ground like small water balloons. Louis waited under the overhang while Swann fiddled with the doorknob to make sure it would lock again.
Suddenly, two gold eyes appeared in the window.
“Ah, shit,” Louis whispered.
“What’s the matter?”
“Don’t lock the door yet,” Louis said.
“Why?”
Louis headed back inside. “We have to take the cat,” he said. “I have a bad feeling Kavanagh might not be coming home tonight.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Bianca Lee stood at the window looking down at the courtyard. He was still there. What was the matter with him? Then she remembered some gossip she had heard. The guy was blind or something. Maybe he couldn’t see the closed sign she had put on the window of the flower shop.
She wondered where the black guy was. And why the hell was his partner banging on her door?
It was starting to rain. The bald guy looked up toward her window, pulled up the collar of his jacket, and scurried to a Honda waiting at the curb. Bianca caught a glimpse of the dark-haired woman at the wheel before the car pulled away down Worth Avenue.
Bianca let the drape fall and turned back to her small living room, to the man lying on her sofa.
“How’s your head?” she asked.
He didn’t look at her, didn’t even move.
She sat down next to him and took the folded towel from his head. The gash on his scalp was deep, matting his dark hair with blood. His right eye was swollen shut, the ugly purple bruise spreading down his cheek. His lip was split and probably needed stitches. But she couldn’t risk taking him to the hospital. She was almost shaking with anger as she looked down at Byrne Kavanagh’s beautiful, shattered face.
God damn Dickie Lyons.
She had always known he was a brute, a man with no taste or appreciation for anything of grace. And sometimes she felt a twinge of pity for Tink, although the woman certainly brought on some of her own misery.
But this time, Lyons had broken something of hers, something she had invested a lot of time and money in, something she had made blossom into a thing of beauty.
She started to dab at his face with the towel, but Byrne pushed it away. As he tried to sit up, he winced and held his right wrist.
“I think it’s broken,” he said.
She rose. “Let me get you another Percocet.”
“No,” he said quickly. “I just want to go home.”
“I told you, Byrne, it’s not safe. Tink said he’s looking for you. She says he’s got a gun.”
She was lying; she had no idea where Dickie Lyons was, and she hadn’t talked to Tink at all. The truth was, she didn’t know what the hell was going on anymore. All she knew was that she had to keep Byrne here.
“What about my money?” Byrne asked.
“You’ll get it, I promise.”
“I just want my money, Bianca,” he said. “I just want my money so I can get out of here. You told me this would be easy. You didn’t say I’d get beat up. I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Byrne, please, listen to me. Everything will be all right.”
He closed his eyes and turned away.
She glanced at her watch. Where the hell was Carolyn?
When she called the Osborn house this morning, Greg told her that Carolyn was on her way to Aspen. But he had managed to reach her at the airport, and once Bianca explained what had happened, Carolyn had canceled her trip.
Calm down, Bianca. I’ll take care of it.
You better, Carolyn. We can’t let this happen again.
Bianca went back to the window and looked down on the street again. The rain was coming down hard now.
Damn, she didn’t want to lose Byrne. He was special. He was so sweet, much sweeter than the others. She had spotted him down at the yacht basin. It didn’t take much to convince him; he was broke, and he was so trusting. He had been patient when she took him to the tailor, the stylist, and the manicurist. He was even willing to change what soap he used.
No more Lifebuoy, Byrne, it’s Clive Christian for you from now on.
And when she had taken him to bed that first time-as she had done to evaluate all of the others-she knew he could service the fantasies of anyone.
He could have made so much money. That’s why he had agreed to do this, so he could make enough to buy a sailboat and go off to Key West. He could have made a fortune, for himself and for her.
But now he wanted out. He wanted what he was owed for his night with Tink and wanted to go home and feed his cat. She could have just given him the two grand; she had enough in the register downstairs. She could have let him drift away just like all the others had after the season was over and the women had tired of them. But after what had happened to Mark Durand, she couldn’t take any chances.
Bianca let out an angry sigh. She had really screwed that one up. She had misjudged him.
God damn Durand.
The first time she saw him sitting at the bar in Ta-boo, she hadn’t been able to take her eyes off him. And she was desperate to find a new boy, because Justin had decided suddenly to go back to Los Angeles, so she had no one to finish out the season. She had approached Mark that same night, and on impulse, she had given him her special card, the cream-colored one with the fleur-de-lis and the private phone number. It was only later she found out he was trying to be a walker.
A walker…
Even now, it seemed ridiculous. Maybe Mark was living with that old fool Kent, but once she got Mark in her bed, it was clear he wasn’t gay. It was clear, too, that he was willing to do anything to make money. If he was too rough, well, some of her women liked that.