Flame Out by M. P. Cooley Page A

“Didn’t like it so much when he had someone who could hit back.”
    â€œI tried to teach Bernie to respect women when I took the children in, but . . . it was too late for Bernie.”
    A dozen people crowded in, the men in pressed khakis and the women in sweater sets. State workers if I had to guess. Brian, delivering fries and wings to the train employees, called out to the second group, “You all getting your regular?” When he was concentrating on work, his limp almost disappeared.
    I dropped my voice. “Did Bernie abuse Luisa?”
    â€œNo,” Jake said. “Absolutely not.”
    â€œNothing physical.” The judge added, “But my brother, he kept her a prisoner in that house. Bernie liked to control women.”
    â€œIncluding Vera?” Hale asked.
    â€œIncluding Vera,” the judge said. “Him hiring her? It was not charity. Back in high school she would not give him the time of day. He liked making her beg for her job every time she came crawling back.”
    For a politician, the judge didn’t talk about himself much, but he had no problem trashing his brother.
    â€œWhen was the last time you saw Vera?” I asked.
    Jake flicked his eyes to his brother, snakelike. The judge ignored him.
    â€œWe think,” the judge said carefully, “it was the night she disappeared.”
    â€œThere was a poker game at the bar, but they were all amateurs”—Jake shook his head in disgust—“and I cleaned them out quickly. They all wanted beers on credit, so I decided to take them to where there was plenty of free booze: Bernie’s. Vera was there.” Jake shook his head. “Following Dan Jaleda around. He brought her along to Bernie’s even though everyone knew it was a bad idea.”
    â€œShe liked male attention,” Judge Medved said. “A room full of men, having a few drinks? She was in heaven.”
    That matched up with what we knew. “Who did she leave with that night?”
    â€œShe didn’t,” Jake said. “She was still at Bernie’s. She’d taken some Quaaludes. Vera was out cold.”
    â€œYou talking about my mother?” Lucas stood behind me. We had been speaking softly, so I hoped he hadn’t heard any details. He rested his hand on the back of my chair. “Hi, June. Dave here?” He noticed Hale. “Hi. You’re Hale, right?”
    Jake and Judge Medved both stood and moved to embrace Lucas.
    â€œYoung man, good to see you,” Jake said, clapping him on the shoulder. “What can we get you?”
    â€œA beer would be good,” Lucas said to Brian as Brian passed on his way to deliver five vodka tonics.
    Brian never paused, the drinks on his tray perfectly balanced despite his hitching gait. “You know where it is,” he called over his shoulder. “Serve yourself.”
    The place was packed. Despite the crowd, no one got within three tables of us on any side, keeping their distance from Jake and the judge. Between Lucas and the crowds, this interview was over, and we stood to go. The men ignored us, focused on Lucas.
    â€œWe want to be here for you in your time of need,” Jake said.
    â€œYou know you can count on us,” the judge said. “We owe Natalya our lives.”
    Lucas reached out, embracing both men.
    â€œYou,” he slurred. “You’re family to me.”

CHAPTER 8
    W HEN WE ARRIVED AT HIS OFFICE, DAN JALEDA’S ADMINISTRATIVE assistant was on the phone, giving detailed instructions on how to defrost stuffed peppers.
    â€œNot the microwave,” she said. “The bread crumbs get all sticky.” She noticed us standing in the door, mouthed “one second,” and dismissed her caller.
    â€œGotta go,” she said. “The cops are here.”
    She didn’t wait for introductions, rapidly typing into the computer. “Which of the guys are you looking for this time? Bail skipper or