was dim and scummy, the gloom merely punctured by neon and strobes. A half-naked young woman in red platform boots slunk across the stage like some kind of feline animal. He scoped the crowd, which was less than capacity, it being early still, and breathed in the smell of jizz, bleach, beer, fruity strippers ’ perfume, and the low, throat- closing odor of the smoke pumped onto the stage for the feature dancers.
He took a seat at a small round table not far from the stage and his gaze was pulled back to the dancer. Her hair was red, nearly matching her boots, and she was lithe and commanding despite being so young. She couldn ’ t have been much more than nineteen. His desire wrestled with sadness. She seemed to be worldly and expert, a willing courtesan. But he didn ’ t imagine the circumstances of the life that had led her there were good. Between songs an emcee came over the sound system exhorting the patrons to give it up for Lexi. When she was facing away from him, Behr leaned forward and placed a five-dollar bill on the edge of the stage. Another guitar-driven tune began, and a waitress, in a short skirt with a tray glued to her hand, stopped by the table.
“What ’ ll you have?”
“Vodka and tonic.” Behr extended his drink ticket. The waitress was a good five years older than the dancer, but it was a wide chasm. Her legs were decent with the benefit of control hose, and it appeared a pushup bra was helping her on top.
“It ’ s a two-drink minimum. The second round is eight bucks. You want both now?”
“Sure.”
“You need singles?”
Behr nodded and dropped a twenty on her tray, then leaned back and pretended to be a guy pretending to play it cool. He looked around the club casually instead of staring slavishly at the dancer.
“Just give me five back,” Behr said when the waitress brought his drinks.
She smiled and counted out five singles.
“I ’ m looking for a guy who used to come here — ”
“You serving him a summons or he owe you money?” the waitress asked, retreating behind the cool facade built during her dancing days.
“Nah” — Behr coughed, acting embarrassed — “I owe him money.” He saw this changed things for the waitress and went on. “My cousin, actually. He used to work with him, then moved a while back. Asked me to drop by and pay him if I was in the neighborhood. It ’ s only two hundred forty. But I ’ ve got it.” Behr pat-patted his pocket. “Ted Ford. He here?”
“Tad.”
“Right.” Behr locked on the guy ’ s name, understanding why he ’ d missed him in the databases. The waitress scanned the dark room and bit her lip as she came up empty.
“I don ’ t see him… But he ’ s on tonight.” The fact that Fordworked there settled on him. Behr wondered if the guy had seen him come in, made the remnants of cop that still clung to him, and headed out the back. Then he felt the waitress ’ s acrylic-tipped nails give a squeeze to his upper arm. “Oh, there he is. By the bar.”
Behr looked and saw a man wrestle a keg in behind the bar. He disappeared for a moment as he kneeled to hook it up to the line. Tad was young, about twenty-five, with doormat sideburns and dark hair carefully combed into a sort of pompadour. Some kind of brilliantine in it caught the strobes in the club. He was big, but by the way he struggled with the keg, Behr could tell he was soft.
“Hey, I should get a cut.” It was the waitress, as if she ’ d just gotten the idea, joking but full of hope.
“Sounds fair,” Behr said, handing her the five singles and dashing those hopes.
As Tad Ford walked back out the side door through which he ’ d come, Behr waited a beat, then stood and followed him out.
Tad flexed his lats as he walked outside and headed for the refrigerated room for a keg of Busch Light. If he worked here long enough, the kegs would start to feel like quart bottles. He reached for the silver handle of the walk-in and felt himself lurch forward out of control as he was shoved facefirst into the door of the refrigerated room.
“What the fu — ?” Tad said, bouncing off the door a little, unhurt, spinning around and looping a lazy right hook at his attacker. Tad ’ s brain flashed that someone — Rudy probably — was jerking around with him, but his eyes went wide when he caught sight of a big man, a stranger.
Behr bobbed the hook by bending his knees. He pulled his blackjack and sapped Ford backhanded across the hipbone as he came back up. Ford squealed and doubled over.
“Goddamn. I ’ m sorry. I thought you were Rudy fucking with me.”
“I ’ m not Rudy.” Behr glared back at him.
“I can see that,” Ford whined, straightening up and rubbing his hip. “What do you want, man?”
“What I want to know about, Tad, is you selling stolen bikes.” Behr saw Ford ’ s face go ivory with fear. Direct hit. Behr ’ s own pulse raced at the success.
“What?”
“Shut up.” Behr pushed him back against the door, grabbing a handful of his shirt. “You lying fuck.” He sapped him on the outside of the left thigh, on the peroneal nerve that ran down the leg. He felt Ford buckle and hoisted him up like a flaccid spinnaker. “You sold ’ em to Mickey Handley. I want to know where you got ’ em.”
Tad shook in pain and fear and answered, “I stole them.”
“I know you stole them. From who?”
“Kids. They just leave ’ em around…” Tad saw white and felt his right lower leg burning as if on fire. The big man in front of him had driven the toe of his heavy boot into his shin. It throbbed as Tad ’ s heart pounded.
“Goddamnit, I ’ m gonna call the cops,” Tad whined-threatened.
“No, you ’ re not. Who were you working with?”
“No one,” Tad blurted. He ’ d done the bikes alone. It was the truth and Behr read it as such, confusing as that was. It was only later that Tad thought that maybe the man hadn ’ t just meant the bikes. His answer would ’ ve come out different, even though he would never have given up Rooster and Riggi. Behr rolled his wrist flashing the sap for another strike when he heard the club door open with a bang. Behr used his body to hide the sap, then looked over his right shoulder in time to see a bull-necked man, wearing a taut black T-shirt despite the cold, step outside with a wild-haired dancer in tow. He had an air of authority and the easy swagger of a guy about to get blown.
“What the hell ’ s going on?” the man shouted, seeing his trysting spot occupied, the tips of his ears going red in the frosty air. “You better not be selling in my club, Ford.”
“No,” Tad gurgled, and seemed on the verge of screaming to Bull Neck for help. Behr knifed him with his eyes, willing him to stay quiet, and somehow he did.
“Selling what? I was looking for the men ’ s room — ” Behr tried to fill the silence and wipe away the violence in the air.
“Bullshit,” Bull Neck shouted. Behr felt the man try to get a read on him. He considered charging him and cracking his skull on his way to the door. Instead he held his position near Ford and kept cool. “How much does the fat bastard owe you?” Bull Neck finally spoke.
Behr nodded and went with the number he ’ d used earlier. “Two-forty. He should know the Vikings never cover.”
“Do me a favor and take this shit someplace else. I can ’ t be having it here.” It was half-demand and half- request, but it seemed like the best out that Behr could hope for in the situation. He cursed to himself, feeling a real chance slipping away. He nodded easily, though, and walked past Bull Neck and his girl and went inside.
Tad, on battered and quaking legs, had nowhere to go but back inside the club as well.
“You look pale, Tad,” Reno said as he walked past them.
“You ought to pay your debts,” Rudy said to him. Then he heard their laughter.
Behr had been forced off Ford but he wasn ’ t ready yet to go home empty-handed. The man was connected to foul things. Behr was sure of it. He felt he was on the verge of getting names when they were interrupted, and the idea of walking away now and putting it off to another day killed him. He figured he had a few minutes at least, no matter how sophisticated the girl ’ s charms, before Bull Neck would be back inside to chase him out of the club. He crossed to the far corner and tried to hide in the darkness. A moment later he watched Ford limp in, cast his eyes around, miss him in his hiding spot, and head right for a vestibule by the men ’ s room. Behr saw Ford dial then raise a cell phone to his ear. Even with the distance and the darkness Behr could see it was a prepaid phone — no chance of recovering who Ford was calling. Ford put a finger in his other ear against the noise.
