Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #4: Books 13-16 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (best ereader for academics .txt) 📕

I shook my head and put my mouth to her ear. “No! It’s a dare to dream club. Whatever you’re into! What Mo would call bacon, lettuce and tomato!”

She shouted back: “You think they cater to straight, monogamous chicks?”

“I hope so. Come on, I need a drink.”

We pushed toward the bar, which was made of translucent blue glass, and found a spot where I could hail the barperson. The barperson had a small knitting needle through her nose and dead people tattooed on her arms. She wiped the space in front of us and said, “Get you?”

“Two Bushmills, straight up.”

She poured them swiftly and efficiently and said, “Forty bucks!”

I handed her fifty and said, “Is Mohamed in tonight?”

In my peripheral vision, I saw Dehan stare at me. Barperson took my money and frowned. “Pal, there must be five hundred people here right now. How the hell would I know?”

I shrugged, and on an impulse I said, “Ali said you knew him.”

“Ali? Mohamed? What is this, Isis revenge? Gimme a break, willya?”

She took the money to the till and rung it up. Dehan leaned over to me and said, “Have you gone crazy?”

“I’m testing a theory.”

The barperson came back with my change. She handed it to me and said, “Ali? What’s this Ali like?”

“Spanish, pretty, short hair…”

“Talks too much?”

I laughed. “Yeah.”

“She said I knew Mohamed? What else she say?”

I shrugged. “She told me to talk to you.” I turned to Dehan. “What else did she say, honey?”

Dehan winked at the barperson. “She said you would help us, and that you were a tia buena.”

She shrugged her tattooed shoulder and shook her head. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It means you’re hot.”

Now she gave a bashful, lopsided smile and pointed toward a palm by the door to the dome. There was a table in the shadows beside it with several people sitting there. “He usually sits over there. You know what he looks like? Big, six three, tattoos like mine. Got short hair and very blue eyes.”

I shook my head. “Not an Arab?”

Barperson’s laugh was scornful. “No, dude.” To Dehan she said, “Name’s Heimdall. I get off at three.”

Dehan grinned. “Carmen. I’ll be around.”

“Carmen, that’s nice.”

We elbowed and shouldered our way through the crowd toward the palm. Dehan was tugging on my sleeve. I looked back at her and mouthed, “Wait!”

When we got to the table by the palm, the music wasn’t as loud. There were four guys sitting there. Two were on stools, the other two on a padded bench against the wall. One of those was huge. He had the tattoos, very short hair and even from where I was standing, I could see his eyes were a very pale blue. He had on a gray, string-sleeved vest and one of his massive arms was around another guy who must have been half his size and half his weight, and was wearing false eyelashes and very red lipstick. They all looked up as we arrived. They seemed more interested in Dehan than in me, but the interest was not all that friendly.

I jerked my head toward the big guy. “You Mohamed?”

He lounged back with his mouth slightly open. “No, I’m Thomas fuckin’ Aquinas. Who the fuck are you, apart from the guy who’s gonna…”

I held up a hand. “Before we get there, Robles sent me with a message.”

“You’re a lying fuckin’ bastard.”

“Yeah? Maybe I am at that. How about we go out to the lawn and talk about it out there?”

“Yeah?” He looked at his pals and they all laughed. “How about I break your arms and legs and throw you off the fuckin’ roof?”

“How about you try? Either way, let’s do it outside.”

He got to his feet and before he could reach for me, I moved to the door and opened it. Dehan stepped out onto the terrace and, as he came around the palm, flexing his muscles, I pulled my jacket back just enough for him to see the butt of my Colt. I smiled sweetly at him and jerked my head at the door. “Outside, Mohamed.”

“What the fuck…?”

“Outside.”

He went out after Dehan and his friends made to follow. I pointed a finger like a gun at them and said, “Scram!” Then I followed Mohamed out and let the door close behind me. The noise was less: a mild throb in the background, behind the hiss and hum of the traffic in the street below.

Dehan had moved to a table by a heater and was sitting, sipping her drink, watching me curiously. Mohamed was still standing, facing me as I approached him. “Who are you, man? What’s the deal with Robles? I ain’t spoken to him since…”

“Since what? Sit down, Mohamed.”

He narrowed his eyes a moment, then moved to the table and sat. He stared at Dehan, calculating, then looked at me. “Since he deleted me from Telegram. Who are you…?”

I grinned. “You’re asking, but you’ve guessed already, haven’t you?”

“You’re cops. I don’t know what that son of a bitch has said to you, but he told me to leave him alone and I have left him alone.”

“You threatened to join his class. You knew how that could affect his career.”

“Hey, man!” He spread his hands and hunched his shoulders. “Words! It was a lovers’ spat. I was hurting. Lovers say that kind of thing. But when I realized he was serious and it was over, I left it.”

“What did you want from him?”

“I wanted him to come out. I just wanted him to admit to the world that he loved me. Is that a lot to ask? Instead it was always this big macho act.