'Over on Quality Hill. It was unlocked and the key was in it. I thought I'd save you the trip into town to pick it up.'
'You find anything in it?' Centurion asked, keeping his distance from the car.
Mason shook his head. 'Not a thing. Jordan must have dropped her stuff off somewhere. You have any idea where she might have gone?'
Centurion's grin matched the sliver of moon hanging in the sky. 'No fucking clue, man. I mean that,' he said, bouncing down the stairs past Mason, opening the driver's door where the dog was now sitting, its ears flat and lips curled.
Centurion jumped back, slamming the door. 'Shit! What the fuck is that? Get that fucking dog outta my car!'
Mason opened the door again. 'Oh, that dog? That's just George. Abby, bring George over here to meet Centurion.'
Abby got out, followed by the dog, Centurion retreating another step, the dog lowering its head, keeping its eyes fixed on Centurion, its growl idling like a rough engine. Abby put her hand on the dog's head and it relaxed, sitting at her side.
Mason said, 'Centurion, I've got to find Jordan tonight. Who did she hang with? Where did she like to go? I need some help.'
'I figured you want to know, so I asked Terry Nix. He said she used to have a boyfriend that played in a band, the Deadly Deed. They had a regular gig on Friday nights at a bar called Meltdown on 39th Street. Terry checked. They're playing tonight. That's the best I got.'
Mason believed him. Mason had solved Centurion's biggest problem by returning his car. Centurion had promised Judge Pistone he would be responsible for Jordan, and he couldn't afford the loss of credibility if she disappeared. That would be bad for the corporate sponsor business. If Mason could solve that problem for him as easily as he found the Mercedes, they would both sleep better.
'Thanks. We'll check it out.'
'Who's your ride?' Centurion asked, motioning to the SUV.
'Friend of mine,' Mason said.
'Shit!' Centurion answered. 'I'll bet it's that Indian brother of yours, Blues. Damn, Mason. What you think I am, you bring that big, ugly thug and that big, ugly dog out here in the middle of the night? The only nice person you brought is this fine-looking woman you ain't even introduced me to yet.'
'And I'm not going to introduce you, Centurion. She's a dog lover, not a corporate sponsor. I need to know something else. The cops found cocaine in Gina Davenport's office after she was killed. Her husband buys in bulk. There may be a connection. I'd like to find out where the husband gets his.'
'Can't help you with that, Mason. My dopin' days is behind me. I got no part of that shit no more, and that's the truth.'
Abby took her hand off the dog's head. George stood, flared, and growled.
Centurion said, 'Cut that shit out, girl.' He pulled a gun from beneath his shirt and pointed it at the dog. 'I don't like dogs, but I do like pretty women, so I won't kill your dog.' He turned to Mason, tapping his gun in the air for emphasis, ignoring the sound of Blues revving his engine as he crept up the driveway. 'You find that bitch, Mason. We both need her. But you stay out of my business, hear?'
Mason put his hand over the muzzle of Centurion's gun. 'I don't like guns, but I do like dogs, so I won't let George kill you. I'll find my client, but you stay out of my case. Hear?'
Blues pulled up, stepping out of the SUV, the engine still running. Centurion laughed. 'You are one nut-busting motherfucker, Mason. I give you that. You shoulda done time. Coulda busted nuts with cons in the yard like a fuckin' lifer. Man, you are something else,' he added, turning his back and walking up the stairs, adding over his shoulder, 'Bring that bitch back here now. Don't forget.'
Mason and Abby climbed into the backseat of the SUV, the dog lying between them, Blues completing the circle in the drive, aiming for the darkness.
'You believe him?' Blues asked.
'About Jordan, yeah. Not about the drugs. He won't be happy if he figures out we searched his car. Will he be able to tell George took it apart?'
'Could be. George didn't leave any marks, but Centurion might have some way to tell if those panels have been opened.'
'What will he do if he figures out you found his guns and drugs?' Abby asked. She was holding her middle with one arm, the other wrapped around the dog's neck. Both arms were trembling, vibrating the rest of her. The dog nuzzled her lap. She smiled at Mason, letting go long enough to wipe her eyes. He reached across the dog, taking her hand.
'God, Lou,' she said. 'The guns, the drugs, the playground macho bullshit. I thought you were a nice Jewish boy, a lawyer like my mother always wanted me to bring home.'
'He is,' Blue said from the front seat, watching them in the rearview mirror. 'He just keeps bad company- until now.'
'Thank you, Blues. But what will Centurion do?' Abby asked.
Mason answered. 'Depends on what I do. If I leave it alone, he'll leave me alone.'
'Will you leave it alone?' Abby asked.
Mason didn't answer.
Chapter 15
The Meltdown was a bar on the western edge of the 39th Street strip, covering a corner at the intersection with State Line Road, the street separating Missouri and Kansas. The University of Kansas Medical Center was on the other side of State Line, ensuring a steady flow of sleep-deprived medical students across its threshold. The neo-docs in their white jackets and stethoscopes mingled with the street traffic the bar attracted with its reputation for showcasing local hard-rock bands.
Mason and Abby stood inside the door to the bar, their eyes adjusting to the weak light and heavy smoke. It was close to midnight and people were jammed hip-to-pelvis across the crowded floor, jostling to the music.
'Herd dancing,' Mason said. 'My favorite.'
'Be thankful the herd is not in mating season,' Abby shouted over the lead guitarist, who was having an affair with his distortion pedal, slamming the crowd with punishing chords as he wailed into the mike.
They pushed into the crowd, weaving and twisting between people as they got closer to the stage. Jordan was sharing a table with two other girls next to a stack of speakers, ignoring each other and the music. Mason guessed each was a girlfriend of one of the boys in the band. They'd heard the music too many times to pay attention anymore.
Jordan looked up as Mason broke through a wall of people, bolting from her table, knocking her chair over, darting around the speakers. Mason would have yelled for her to stop, but realized she couldn't hear him and wouldn't stop if she had.
He vaulted Jordan's chair, trusting Abby to keep up. The bar was small and the stage made it smaller, leaving a narrow passage behind leading to a back door that was still closing when Mason reached it. He banged into the door, skidding to a stop in the alley behind the bar where Blues was waiting, his arms wrapped around Jordan. The more she thrashed, the tighter Blues held her until she wore herself out.
'Okay,' she wheezed. 'Okay. Let me go.'
Mason nodded and Blues opened his arms. 'We need to talk,' Mason told her.
'I'm not going back to Sanctuary,' Jordan said. 'You can't make me.'
'You didn't complain in court today when Centurion offered to take you back there. What happened?' Mason asked.
'I changed my mind.'
'People out on bail on a murder charge don't get to change their minds,' Mason told her. 'And they don't get to steal cars either.'
