Free Crossroad Blues (The Nick Travers Novels) by Ace Atkins Page A

slowed to a patter, masking the sounds.
    The fat clouds rolled away and the full silver light of the moon poured into the woods. The sky was the color of navy flannel.
    Couldn't be far from the highway. Not far at all. Even through the zigzags and cuts, the man stayed in the same direction. Maybe he had a car waiting for him on the road's shoulder. He crept forward and could see the man catching his breath and looking around.
    The rain stopped. A quiet patter fell from the leaves. A car rumbled by and a slash of headlights cut through the woods. Nick was close enough to get a look at the guy. He must be going crazy. It wasn't that the guy was nude that shocked him. It was the postage-stamp image of a young Elvis Presley. Pre-army. "Heartbreak Hotel" days.
    The light was gone.
    Another car passed down the highway. Must be only yards from the road. Nick needed to make his move now. He broke into a full sprint so he could tackle the guy, just like a darting running back, and drag his ass back to Brown's car. No more games.
    Nick moved a few feet and the moldy leaves beneath him fell into a small crevice. The creek bed from earlier, he thought, as he climbed out of its muddy walls. Dirt painfully filled under his fingernails. He found a root and grabbed tightly as his feet slipped beneath him. Finally he found a foothold and pulled himself out of the gully. Nick scanned the woods and looked through a clearing to the highway.
    Elvis had left the building.

Chapter 16
    Keith Fields received Jesse's phone call at three in the morning, but he wasn't asleep. He was just sprawled on his black leather couch, listening to an infomercial about an ab machine. He tried to imagine it melting away his gut as he munched on a box of vanilla wafers. Those little sandy crumbs bunching up between his thin roll of fat and his beer-stained T-shirt.
    "Jesse, just tell me where you're at."
    "A gas station somewhere 'round Quito."
    "Awright. Did anyone see you?"
    "I don't think so," Jesse said. "I was invisible, man."
    "I ain't got time for this," Keith said as he snatched his lighter and a pack of Vantage cigarettes. "Either you're a pro or not, Jesse. You tole me you could handle the job."
    "I was handlin' it, Keith, and this big nigra just bust through the door as I was about to kill the ole man."
    "Shit, Jesse. You weren't supposed to kill him! Goddamn, are you crazy?"
    "Puka said you wanted the nigra taken out."
    "You still talk like a god-dang racist peckerwood. Shit no, you were supposed to bring him back to Puka's, and I was gonna pick him up there. Nigra? What you gonna do if I give you a client here that's African American?"
    Jesse snickered.
    "I'm serious, you gonna call him a nigger? Like Puka would?"
    "No."
    "Then shut your damned hole and listen." Keith heaved off the couch and closed his balcony doors looking over Royal Street. A carriage horse clopped down the road and he could see a woman squatting in the shadows taking a piss. "I'm comin' up there. You find a place, and you stay put. I'll be up by mornin' and take care of this myself."
    "Keith, the nigr--the man just bust through the door."
    "I know, Jesse. I know."
    This hit was not just for some no-name client; this was a full-time deal. Good pay and good contacts. His boss had it. Had juice like the Mob guys used to have. Like the old criminals in New Orleans, only with a modern approach. Modern methods. Keith had heard bits and pieces, how he used to be some kind of big record producer in Los Angeles at one time. A little weird and freaky with the all-black clothes and stuff. But hey, that's L.A. Everybody's weird out there. Any man who trusted him enough to make him head of security couldn't be all bad.
    "Naw. I got this one, Keith," Jesse said. He could hear his friend's breath go ragged through the connection. "Just give me a few days. Need some money, though."
    "Awright. Till Saturday. But if you ain't snag him by then, you can forget about comin' to work with me. How you want