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13
8:00 p.m.
Leo’s Tobacconist
Oak Grove Road
Homewood
Sadie watched the small haughty crowd gathered around the bar. Mostly old white dudes. Their elegant clothes and fine leather shoes said plenty. Money. Lots of money. The privileged of Birmingham.
She sipped her bourbon on the rocks, ignoring the urge to down it and to order another. Keeping her shit together was important. It was the least she could do for Asher. In addition to finding that local power link to the cartel, he’d wanted to help her. This he had told her over and over. Eventually she would determine his actual motive. Not that she didn’t believe he’d wanted to help her, but she’d learned the hardest way of all that even people who cared about you had a motive for every action. They might not be aware themselves of the underlying incentive, but it was there.
Human nature. Survival and all that bullshit.
Tara McGill had motive for what she had done too. With her, it was easy to figure out. She was the proverbial gold digger. Money was her goal. She didn’t have enough. She wanted more. But McGill wasn’tclever enough to be working directly for the cartel. If she was involved at all, someone would be feeding her orders, orchestrating her every move. McGill was the source Kurtz and Asher had suspected. Kurtz had discovered her little entrepreneurial endeavor. He’d been watching her for a couple of weeks when Asher approached him. Sadie’s sources had pinpointed the shop as being a link in the distribution chain. McGill wasn’t quite as discreet as she should have been. A mistake that would cost her big-time—whether from the good guys or the bad.
Kurtz had agreed with Asher’s conclusion that if someone in his employment was working for the cartel, there could be other small business owners suffering the same treachery. Small businesses like his would be overlooked in the grand scheme of things when it came to law enforcement investigations. Too insignificant.Unlessa significant number of insignificant establishments were pulled unknowingly into the game. Simple math. Little veins were far easier to hide than big bulging arteries.
Sadie’s guess was that McGill had provided the information and access needed by whoever had offed Kurtz and Asher. Under the circumstances she likely considered herself innocent of the crime, but she was wrong. She was just as damned guilty as the shooter.
Another sip of bourbon slid down Sadie’s throat as she watched McGill flit about, crooning over one customer and then another. Ensuring she touched each one on the arm or shoulder, sometimes the back. Dressed in a skintight black dress barely long enough to cover her ass, with a scooped neck that revealed lots of cleavage, along with black stockings and sexy black heels. The old bastards probably got hard-ons just watching her.
Sadie looked away. What she needed was the shot caller in whatever the hell went down. Her gaze shifted back to the group gathered in memory of the murdered owner. Could be one of these rich guys. Whoever it was, it would be someone in a position of power. As badlyas she wanted the actual shooter, more than that she wanted the one who had given the order.
Taking down the ones who got their hands dirty scarcely slowed the flow. You had to find and cut off the head of the lead snake. Even then a dozen other snakes slithered seemingly out of nowhere to take its place.
It was all one endless, vicious cycle.
“Would you like another?”
Sadie looked up at McGill. She’d obviously decided to float over to the table in the deepest, darkest corner of the establishment. No surprise. Sadie had been nursing this one drink since she’d arrived. Establishments making money from the sale of alcohol didn’t care for those who took up space and purchased only one drink.
Or maybe she had caught Sadie watching her one too many times.
“No thanks. I’m good.” Sadie shifted her gaze forward in dismissal.
“I’ve seen you here a couple of times before. Did you know Leo?”
“No.” Sadie took another sip of the now-watery bourbon. The two times she had patronized the establishment had been to be eyes and ears for Asher. Too bad she’d failed to recognize the full depth of the danger within these seemingly innocuous walls.
“That’s a shame. He was a great guy. We’re going to miss him terribly.” McGill sighed. “I suppose the place will be sold.” She made a vague gesture with her arm, sending the smell of perfume wafting over Sadie. “I’m running things until then. Someone has to.”
Sadie lifted her gaze to the woman once more. “I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”
McGill smiled. “I saw you watching me. Is there something more than a drink you need?”
Now this was an interesting turn of events. Sadie manufactured a smile. “Always.”
“I could meet you after the place closes. Say ten thirty?”
Softening the rejection with a smile, Sadie offered, “I’m afraid I’m already committed tonight. Another time?”
“You know where to find me.” McGill began her float around the room once more. Laying on the compliments and doing her touchy-feely act.
The invitation was one Sadie definitely hadn’t expected. She wore her usual—a black tee, jeans, and sneakers. It wasn’t like she looked rich or powerful. Maybe McGill had been hoping for a night of slumming.
Sadie would be back tonight to see what McGill did after work. There were a number of perfect stakeout locations nearby. It was always possible the invitation had been a trap. Sadie doubted McGill had any idea about her involvement with Asher. Kurtz wouldn’t have, either, unless Asher had told him. No reason for him to make that sort of move without informing her.
