sup with the devil

Chapter 22

Jean smiled at the surprised look on the bartender's face as she walked past toward the private booth in the back, interpreting it as the usual male interest. The dark glasses covered most of her now yellowish bruises and as she slid into the booth she opened her purse, removed the glasses and checked her face in her compact then slipped them back on. A lot depended on this meeting today.

"Nice to have you back. Martini, wasn't it?"

She nodded and asked for a menu as well and said she was expecting a friend. He deflated slightly and left. The money she'd withdrawn was wrapped in a bulky package in her purse and she patted the bag just to make sure it was still there. It would be needed as a sign of good faith. If Leana brought hers as well Jean felt she could complete her plan and be out of the country by evening.

The bartender turned his back to the room and dialed the number on the card. As he waited for it to answer, he saw the second woman enter the bar and go directly to the back.

"Yeah?"

"Detective Asper?"

"Who's this?"

"The bartender at Grady's. Your two women are back in the same booth."

Jerry sat up and tossed a pencil across the desk at Bettmeir, pointing to the phone. "How long have they been there?"

"Just arrived... separately."

"Use your imagined charm and keep them there. We'll be about ninety minutes." He hung up, told Bettmeir the information and they both raced out of the station.

Leana sat and greeted her new partner cautiously, keeping her hand tightly on the strap of her carry-on bag.

"Am I late? The cab was a clunker."

"Nope, just arrived myself. Is that your money?" Jean asked. "Mine's in here." She lifted her purse and put it back down.

"Every dime I could get in cash." Leana stopped as the bartender brought Jean's martini and took her order. "I think it rang a few bells so whatever we're doing it'd better be soon."

"Let's eat first, I'm starved. I booked a room at a motel a few blocks away. I stayed there last night. We can make our plans in privacy, clothes and stuff." She raised her shoulders in a girlish scrunch.

"That was clever..." Leana felt her guard going up. After all, this was the same woman that was trying to blackmail her earlier.

"I used another name so we don't have to worry about that."

The bartender brought Leana's drink and asked for their order. Salads, sandwiches and more drinks and then a hasty signal for the cheque.

"No desert, ladies?"

"Just the cheque please."

"We have a killer, apricot pie."

"The cheque... please."

"Right." No skin of his nose if the cops were late. He wrote up the bill, took the offered cash and admired their departure with a lustful stare.

Jerry scooped up a handful of peanuts and stomped away to the window. Bettmeir questioned the bartender intensely. Time. Direction. Transportation; he got it all and then dragged his grumbling partner out to their car.

"He says they left together about half an hour ago, this time in a rented Camero—dark green—and headed south."

"No license number?"