Part 25 (1/2)

The afternoon was wretchedly long. Maggie did hang around, meeting a lot of the cops who were in the station, chatting, laughing with them softly as he worked-making him more and more distracted. Paperwork. He hated it-it had to be right. He wanted charges brought against Rutger, and he wanted them to stick.

The young blonde's name was Callie Sewell. She was twenty; she'd run away from an abusive father to an abusive lover. Patterns were hard to break. She needed help-and self- esteem. Somehow, it seemed that Maggie had given her the latter.

She was in the hospital now. The gash on her hand had been severe enough for her to lose a lot of blood. Between that and her fragile physical condition, they'd determined to keep her overnight.

Dr. Larson Petrie had been the man to see the blonde. Sean knew Larson, and that he did his best to get around rules and regulations to help people. He was probably keeping Callie Sewell to see her through a rough night.

The dead man-Ray Shere-was in the morgue, scheduled for autopsy the following morning. Sean was sure they'd find that he'd been pumped through with drugs as well as alcohol. Something had to explain his walking as far as he had after being shot in the chest.

At four o'clock, Sean was finished with desk work at last. Jack had come in-for moral support, he told Sean, but it seemed to be Maggie he was supporting rather than Sean.

When Sean finished up, Maggie was seated on the edge of Jack's desk, and the two of them had been laughing and chatting away. ”Where to, boss?” Jack asked.

Sean arched a brow.

”Ole Mamie's bar?” Jack suggested.

”We were going alone,” Sean said.

Maggie grinned. ”Naturally, you're invited.”

”What the h.e.l.l difference does it make?” Sean muttered. He rubbed his jaw. Five o'clock shadow. Well, h.e.l.l. He felt as if he'd been dragged through the mud. An arm muscle ached and he was beginning to feel the spot in his ribs where he'd hit the pavement when he went down with Ray. ”I need a drink. Let's go.”

Maggie still looked fresh, bright and beautiful. The concept of being alone with her had been a nice one-even if being alone meant keeping an eye on every customer in Mamie's place.

The h.e.l.l with it. This was better. He could sit back with Maggie and relax. And Jack could do the looking.

Maggie slipped off the desk, setting her hands on his shoulders, brus.h.i.+ng his lips with a kiss. She was about to escape. He caught her by the waist.

”As long as I get you alone later.”

She tensed slightly.

”I'll have to go home tonight-”

”No.”

She stiffened.

”Please. I want you with me tonight.” He hesitated. ”I need you with me.”

He met her eyes. She seemed to be working something out in her mind.

”Maggie ...”

She nodded after a moment. ”All right. I'll ... I'll stay tonight.”

Maggie was startled by the elegance of Mamie's establishment. It wasn't ostentatious, just quiet and nice. In both the restaurant area and the bar, soft lighting spilled over fine carved light-wood booths, tables, and chairs. Watercolors lined the walls, and several large tropical fish tanks were attractively set around the rooms. The bar was a deeper wood, finely polished. Table settings were spotless, gla.s.ses sparkled, the linen was snowy white.

They were seated in a booth in the bar, Sean taking the rear- so that he could see everyone who came and went, Maggie was certain-even though he had told Jack that Jack was ”on” and he was ”off.”

Maggie was equally amazed when she met Mamie, who was as elegant as her decor- even though she could slip into street language at the drop of a hat. But Mamie seemed decent and down to earth-not at all like she had expected a female pimp to be.

And the wine list was incredibly extensive. She ordered a 1976 California burgundy which was excellent. Sean ordered a beer and Jack did the same.

Sean drank half the beer on his first swallow, and eased back in the booth somewhat.

Maggie couldn't help studying his face. He was tired; sore. He looked worn, and yet even the weariness seemed to add to his character, and she was frightened by the force of the emotions that pulsed through her. He hadn't hesitated. When there was trouble, he instinctively ran into the fray. He hadn't been stupid, he'd done his d.a.m.ned best not to kill.

And when the drunken perp had a.s.saulted him, he'd fought back with strength and determination. And Ray had fallen.

She bit lightly into her lower lip, staring down into her wine.

Ray had fallen. Dead. But not until after he had come after Sean while surely almost half dead.

She shook.

She looked back to Sean, alarmed to feel tears of grat.i.tude welling in her eyes. Jack excused himself for a trip to the men's room.

Sean's fingers closed over hers. He smiled. A rueful, tired, half-smile.

”What are you thinking?”

”I ... I was thinking that it's amazing that Mamie is a woman who sells human flesh,” she said. It was only a lie in that it wasn't her present thought.

Sean shrugged. ”Mamie isn't evil in what she's doing,” he murmured. He lifted his hands, then drew a finger around the rim of his beer gla.s.s. ”Mamie doesn't make arrangements for anyone to do anything he or she isn't about to do already. She takes a very small commission from women who would be walking the street one way or another.”

Maggie arched a brow to him, curiously amused. ”You're a cop condoning prost.i.tution?”

”I'm a cop aware that he can't stop prost.i.tution-Jesus himself wasn't quite able to manage that feat. Remember, we're talking about the oldest profession. In a city like New Orleans- where we do have some of the wildest s.e.x clubs in the nation- the best I can hope to do is keep it down at its seediest.”

”But shouldn't you be arresting Mamie?”

”I already arrested Mamie-I needed her to talk.”

”Ah ... the lesser of two evils.”

”I think Mamie is definitely the lesser of two evils-when you consider this murderer.”

Maggie nodded. Oh, yes. Definitely.

”Well, Mamie also carries excellent wine. Would you order me another gla.s.s? I'm off to powder my nose,” she said.