Post Pattern (Burnside Mystery 1) by David Chill Page B

you know in there?"
    "No one."
    I pushed Scotty again, this time a little harder.
    "Look," said Max. "We just went in there
to see this girl. She's kind of a friend."
    "Who's that?"
    "One of the dancers. Her name's Tiffany."
    "And...?" I asked.
    They looked at each other again. I could tell this time
something registered. Scotty spoke. "She's just a friend."
    I wondered if I even had the energy to push him again
and finally decided against it. The day was too much of a scorcher.
    "Look guys, I know what Tiffany is. I'm not a vice
cop, and I'm not looking to bust anyone for having some fun. But two people
have been killed and there aren't any clues except both of them were at the
bachelor party and both frequented that shit hole down the street. So if you're
holding out on me, I'm gonna make both of you pay when I find out. And remember
Max, I know where you live and who your father is."
    He gulped a little, just like in the movies. "She's
a regular at some of our parties," Max said. "She's done some of the
guys on the team. Robbie used to bring her around. He knew all the people over
at Neary's." He said it with a measure of respect.
    "It was weird," he continued. "It was
almost like Robbie's second home. Coming from a family like that, you'd of
thought he'd be the last one to hang out there."
    "Give me a break. Was Robbie pimping?"
    "No. But he'd do some, uh, favors for Tiffany and
some of the girls. They'd pay him back by taking it out in trade."
    "Was he dealing coke in there?"
    They shook their heads no, albeit rather adamantly.
"Was Danielle into this scene too?"
    "Who?"
    "Danielle," I said, patiently. "The other
stripper at the bachelor party."
    "I don't think so. She was pretty new. I think
Tiffany just brought her along for the night."
    I don't entirely know why, but I sighed with relief.
"You know anything about that bouncer, Curt?"
    "He kinda looks after them," Scotty said.
    It was the nicest definition of a slimeball I had ever
heard. I told them to take off. We went off in opposite directions, me making a
quick pit stop in the gas station for the third time this afternoon. I went
back into the truck and waited a while. Finally Curt emerged an hour later and
walked in the same direction as the other two. I followed close behind and as
he neared the alley I reached down to my ankle for my .38 special. I grabbed
him by the collar with my left hand and pointed the gun at his nose. Shoving
him into the alley, I instructed him to place hands on top of his head. Real
slow like, pardner.
    "You lookin' to die, bud," he said softly, in
as ominous a manner as I had heard in a while.
    I reached inside his pants pocket and yanked out his
pistol. "The Indians say this is as good a day as any."
    He gave me a blank look and shook his head.
    "It's from Billy Jack ," I said.
"Don't you ever watch old movies?"
    His eyes never wavered. "You dumb piece of
shit," he said.
    "Let's not get nasty Curt," I said. "I'm
the one holding the guns."
    "Fuck you and fuck your guns."
    “Nice mouth.”
    I reared back and kicked him square in the groin. He grunted
and clutched himself, falling to his knees in the process. With head bowed and
mouth twisted hideously, he grimaced so hard I almost sympathized with him.
Almost.
    Taking a careful look around the alley, I saw that we
were alone. I reached into his pocket again and removed his wallet and keys. If
only my Scoutmaster could see me now. I noticed a large wad of greenbacks but
that was hardly my interest. After a minute of searching I found a car
registration. Curt Salvo was his name and a Marina del Rey address was listed.
He drove a one year old BMW. I put it back in the billfold and threw it at him.
    "Get up," I said, and slapped him across the
top of his head to emphasize the request. Putting both guns in my pocket, I
kept my right hand inside, finger squarely on the trigger. Curt staggered to
his feet and I pushed him out of the alley.
    "I’m gonna get you for this," he managed. How
many