Free Mardi Gras Mambo by Gred Herren Page A

Kleenex. His face was getting red, and his feet were tapping up and down. Beads of sweat were forming at the base of his throat.
    â€œBecause Misha had a video camera hooked up to his front door with a time stamp on the tape. He recorded everyone coming in and out of the place,” Blaine replied. “He turned it off right after you got there. Now, why would he do that, Scotty?”
    Oh, sweet Goddess, that’s just great. I hadn’t seen that one coming. I remembered him flicking a switch without a light coming on anywhere. Why hadn’t I thought anything about it at the time? Dumb, dumb, dumb! I could feel a major headache starting to form right between my eyes. I took a few deep breaths— and remembered handling the lockbox with all his drugs in it.
    My fingerprints were all over it.
    Fuck, fuck, fuck!
    â€œI have no idea,” I said. Damn you, Misha!
    â€œWhat did the two of you talk about?” Venus picked up her notebook again.
    â€œNothing really.” I thought about it. “We talked about Mardi Gras, how much fun we were going to have, that kind of stuff.” Think, Scotty, think! “Oh, he got a call on his cell phone. He left the room to take it and shut the door behind him.”
    â€œDo you know who called?” Blaine’s voice was just as disinterested as Venus’s. I wondered if they were getting ready to go all good cop/bad cop on me.
    â€œNo. He just said he had to take the call and walked out of the room. He wasn’t happy about it.” I remembered the loud voice in the next room. “He was yelling at whomever it was; I could hear him through the door. I couldn’t understand what he was saying. I mean, with the door closed and all I could just barely hear his voice, but it did sound like he was yelling in Russian.” I thought for a minute. “Well, I assumed it was Russian. It could have been another language, I guess.”
    Blaine and Venus exchanged glances again. “And when he came back?”
    â€œHe was upset—I could tell—and he rushed me out.” Maybe I should have stayed, made him talk about it. Oh, man. This so totally sucked. But, then again, if I’d stayed, I might have been there when the killer arrived.
    Happy Mardi Gras, my ass.
    Both Venus and Blaine stood. “And then you walked back to Lafitte’s?”
    I nodded.
    â€œDid you notice anyone or anything that seemed out of place around Saltikov’s?” Venus asked.
    â€œIt’s Mardi Gras, Venus. Everything looked out of place.” I sighed. “There were a lot of people milling about, hanging out around Rawhide, but I didn’t really pay much attention. I was in a hurry to meet the guys at Lafitte’s.”
    Venus flipped her notebook shut. “Well, that’s all for now.” She signaled for Blaine to walk out of the apartment, and she followed, with me right behind them. When we reached my bedroom door, she stopped. “Would you mind if we took your clothes?”
    â€œWhy?” I wasn’t expecting that.
    â€œIf you’re innocent, they’ll clear you.” Venus gave me her enigmatic smile.
    With the Ecstasy safely out of my boots, I didn’t care what they did with my clothes. There wasn’t anything on them that would connect me to Misha’s murder, since I didn’t do it. I walked into the bedroom; picked up the tights, cape, and socks; folded them over the boots; and presented them to Venus at my front door. She shook open a plastic bag, placed them inside, and wrote on the label while Blaine wrote out a receipt for me, and then I shut the door behind them.
    I staggered back into the living room, fighting down nausea.
    â€œYou shouldn’t have given them your clothes,” Frank said. “Your sweat—now they have your DNA.” His face looked tired. “I am assuming you managed to get the drugs put away first?”
    â€œAppearances to the contrary,