Night Fever. Diana Palmer
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made a sale or two and the money was incredible, even with a small commission. For the first time, he had money to flash and Francine was all over him. He’d bought himself a few new things, like some designer shirts and jeans. He was careful to keep them in his locker at school so that Becky wouldn’t know. Now he wanted a car. He just wasn’t sure how to keep Becky in the dark. Probably he could leave it with the Harris boys. Sure, that was a good move. Or with Francine.
He was still seething about Mack. He’d asked him to help him find customers at the elementary school, but Mack had gotten furious and told him he’d do no such thing! He threatened to tell Becky, too, but Clay had dared him. He knew things about Mack that he could tell—like about those girlie magazines Mack hid in his closet, and the butterfly knife he’d traded for at school that Becky didn’t know he had. Mack had backed down, but he’d gone off mad, and Clay was a little nervous. He didn’t think his brother would tell on him, but you never knew with kids.
They were at the pickup point, a deserted little diner out in the boonies, with two suppliers in a four-wheel-drive jeep. The Harris boys were acting odd, he thought, noticing the way their eyes shifted. They’d left the motor running in the car, too. Clay wondered if he was getting spooked.
“You go ahead with the money,” Son told Clay, patting him on the back. “Nothing to worry about. We’re always careful, just in case the law makes a try for us, but we’re in the clear tonight. Just walk down there and pass the money.”
Clay hesitated. Up until now, it had just been little amounts of coke. This would label him as a buyer and a dealer, and he could go up for years if he was caught. For a moment he panicked, trying to imagine how that would affect Becky and Granddad. Then he got himself under control and lifted the duffel bag containing the money. He wouldn’t get caught. The Harris boys knew their way around. It would be all right. And this supplier wouldn’t be too anxious to finger him, either, because Clay could return the favor.
By the time he got to the black-clad figure in the trendy sports coat, standing beside a high-class Mercedes-Benz, he was almost swaggering with confidence. He didn’t say two words to the supplier. He handed over the money, it was checked, and the coke, in another satchel, was given to him. He’d seen dealers on TV shows test the stuff, but apparently in real life the quality was assured. The Harris boys didn’t seem bothered at all. Clay took the goods, nodded at the dealer, and walked back to where Son and his brother were waiting, his heart going like a drum, his breath almost gasping out of his throat. It was an incredible high, just overcoming his own fear and doing something dangerous for a change. His eyes sparkled as he reached the car.
“Okay.” Son grinned. He took Clay by the shoulders and shook him. “Good man! Now you’re one of us.”
“I am?” Clay asked, hesitating.
“Sure. You’re a dealer, just like us. And if you don’t cooperate, Bubba and I will swear that you’re the brains of the outfit and that you set up this deal.”
“The supplier knows better,” Clay argued.
Son laughed. “He isn’t a supplier,” he said, studying his nails. “He’s one of Dad’s flunkies. Why do you think we didn’t test the stuff before you handed over the money?”
“If he’s just one of your father’s men...” Clay was trying to think it through.
“There was a surveillance unit across the street,” Son said easily. “They made you. They couldn’t pick you up because there wasn’t enough time to get a backup and they knew you’d run. But they’ve got a tape, and probably audio, and all they need is testimony from eyewitnesses to have an airtight case against you. You bought cocaine—a lot of cocaine. Dad’s flunky won’t mind doing the time, either, for what he’ll get paid. We can always buy him out later. You won’t get the same consideration, of course.”
Clay stiffened. “I thought you trusted me!”
“Just some insurance, pal,” Son assured him. “We want your little brother to do some scouting for us at the elementary school. If he cooperates, you don’t do time.”
“Mack said no. He already said no!” He was beginning to feel hysterical.
“Then you’d better make him change his mind, hadn’t you?” Son said, and his small eyes narrowed dangerously. “Or you’re going to end up in stir for a long, long time.”
And just that easily, they had him. He couldn’t know that the so-called surveillance people were just friends of the Harrises, not heat. Or that Francine was being persuaded to be nice to him to help keep him on the string. Yes, they had the poor fish doubly hooked, and he didn’t even know how caught he really was. Yet.
Chapter Five
Becky was trying to balance making photocopies for Maggie with typing a desperately needed brief for Nettie, one of the paralegals, and going out of her mind in the process. It had been a rough few days. Clay had been more belligerent than ever—withdrawn, moody, and openly antagonistic. Mack had been withdrawn, too, avoiding his brother and refusing to tell his sister why. It was worse than an armed camp. Granddad was living on her nerves. Becky was, too. She came to work vibrating, wishing she could just climb in the car, drive away, and never look back.
“Can’t you hurry, Becky?” Nettie begged. “I’ve got to be in court at one, and it’s a forty-five-minute drive in lunch-hour traffic! I won’t get to eat as it is!”
“I’m hurrying—really, I am,” Becky assured her, frowning as she tried to make her fingers work even faster.
“I’ll do my own copies,” Maggie said, patting Becky’s shoulder as she walked by. “Just calm down, darlin’. You’re doing fine.”
The sympathy almost brought tears to Becky’s eyes. Maggie was such a love. Becky gritted her teeth and put everything she had into it, finishing in good time to get Nettie off to court.
“Thanks!” Nettie called from the door, and grinned. “I owe you lunch one day!”
Becky just nodded, and paused to catch her breath.
“You look terrible,” Maggie noted as she passed by on her way back from the copying room. “What’s wrong? Want to talk?”
“It wouldn’t do any good,” Becky said with a gentle smile. “But thanks just the same. And thanks for doing those.”
Maggie held up the copies. “No problem. Don’t try to take on too much at one time, will you?” she added seriously. “You’re the junior here and that puts you in a bad position sometimes. Don’t be afraid to say no when you can’t make a deadline. You’ll live longer.”
“Look who’s talking,” Becky chided gently. “Aren’t you the one who always volunteers for every charity project the firm takes on?”
Maggie shrugged. “So I don’t listen to my own advice.” She checked her watch. “It’s almost twelve. Go to lunch. I’ll take second shift today. You need a break,” she added with a worried glance at Becky’s thin figure in the plain pink shirtwaist dress, her hair all over her face and shoulders, her makeup long gone. “And tidy up first, darlin’. You look like something the cat dragged in.”
“I look like a little green snake?” Becky asked, aghast.
Maggie stared. “I beg your pardon?”
“Well, snakes are all MY cat ever brings in.” She looked down at herself. “I can see me as a giant pink mushroom, maybe. A little green snake? Never!”
“Get out of here,” Maggie muttered.
Becky laughed. Maggie was like a tonic. Pity she couldn’t bottle her and take her home at night. Home was a worse ordeal than work had ever been, and she knew she was losing ground.
She went downstairs to the cafeteria around the corner, surprised to find herself in line with the county district attorney, Kilpatrick himself.
“Hello,