Memory Lapse: A Slater Vance Novel (22 page)

Opening his eyes, he was
surprised to see a small gift sitting in the middle of his desk. It was wrapped
in white tissue paper with a yellow ribbon tied around it. There was a card
sitting underneath with his name scrawled in nice, neat, swirling handwriting.
Setting his drink down, he leaned forward and grabbed the yellow ribbon between
his fingers and pulled. Sitting amongst the white tissue paper was a crystal
paperweight with a bee in the middle - a honey bee. His lips split into a wide
smile… Janet.

He lifted the paperweight
and placed in on the left-hand side of his desk and opened the card:
 
Dear
Slater, I know I was an unwanted inconvenience in your life and in your home,
but you’ve never made me feel that way. I appreciate all your efforts on my
behalf, but mostly I thank you for your kindness to me. Not being able to
remember anything except fear makes me distrustful, but I know without doubt or
reservation I can trust you. With a million thanks, the Original Honey
Luscious.

Picking the paperweight
back up, he casually tossed it hand to hand as he thought about Janet Jackson,
aka Honey Luscious, aka whoever she actually was. He wondered why a man, any
man would feel the need to dominate her. She was one of the kindest, most
gentle people – outside of his brother – he’d ever met. He thought how she’d
looked on the swing earlier with the wind wafting her hair against her
shoulders. Immediately he set the paperweight back down on the desk as if it had
burnt his fingers. He did not want to be involved with Janet Jackson. He
avoided women like her for a reason.

Thinking about women he
should avoid, he glanced at his watch, and even though it was a little late to
call, he decided to have a heart-to-heart with little Miss McCloud. He had to
flip through his stack of old post-
its
to find her
number, as it obviously wasn’t in his new phone.

 
She answered on the second ring.

“It’s Slater,” he said.

“Oh, my God, Slater, I
can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe you called.”

“Hey,
Celia.
I think we
need to talk and I need for you to listen… really listen to me, okay?” he said
as gently as he could muster.

“Slater, you’re scaring
me,” Celia replied.

Slater ran a frustrated
hand over his head. “Celia, I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you. But I don’t know how
else to make you understand that I’m not capable of having the relationship you
want. You’re a beautiful woman and I enjoyed the time we spent together, but…
it’s over. You need to understand that.”

“No,” she wailed.

“Celia,” Slater started
calmly again, “this can’t be good for you, either. You can’t be happy with the
way things have gone. You need to go out there and find someone better suited
for you.”

Sobbing she said, “I
don’t want anyone else… I only want you. I love you. I know you love me, too.
You couldn’t have made love to me the way you did, if you didn’t love me…”

Sighing heavily, he said,
“Celia, I’m sorry… but it was just sex. I don’t love you. Please don’t call me
or contact me. Okay?” he asked with steel in his voice.

“No, it’s not okay. I
don’t know how to go on without you… I don’t know that I want…,” she said
breathlessly.

Slater felt a flash of
irritation at the obvious manipulation. “Celia, don’t say such things. I promise
you can do way better than me,” he said in an effort to smooth things over with
her.

“Tell me how to get over
you. Can you tell me that?” she asked wobbly. “I want to be over you; I swear
to God, I do. I want to hate you. I deserve to hate you… but I can’t. I try,
but I can’t.”

Rubbing a hand over his
face once more, Slater tossed his drink into his mouth and felt his eyes
moisten from the burn of the alcohol as it slid down his throat.

“Celia, it wasn’t my
intention to hurt you. I thought you… understood what I was about. I won’t ever
be able to give you what you want. Please let it go… let me go. I won’t contact
you again. Please do likewise. Goodbye, Celia.” Slater slowly lowered his phone
and clicked it off; all the while he could hear Celia’s sobs.

Wearily, Slater placed
his elbows on the desk and leaned his face into the palms of his hands. What a
terribly screwed-up day. Sitting back, he booted up his computer and sent an
email to a contact he had in the JAG Corps, Vanessa Sanders. While he didn’t
have a personal relationship with Vanessa, per say, he had served with her
husband, Captain Terrence Sanders, during his second tour. Slater had pulled
Terry out of a felled, burning helicopter, so he figured they owed him. He sent
her an email asking for information on the mysterious
Nevin
Justaine
.

Next, Slater downloaded
the pictures he’d taken during the day regarding the bank case. He sent an
email with the attached pictures of the man in the green army jacket to Bridge
for possible identification. He scanned his logbook and saved it in the
appropriate drive.

Exhausted, Slater powered
down his computer, and after setting the alarm, turned off the lights and
crawled into bed. If he was a praying man, he’d pray that tomorrow be a better
day. He still didn’t know what to do regarding
Sylus
Trusworth
. The only thing he did know for a fact was that
he could not trust anything that came out of Wiseman
Linear’s
mouth. First things first, he needed to delve into Linear and see if what he’d
said was true, then go from there.

Chapter 16

The next morning found
Slater sitting in the lot adjacent to the bank, sipping a cup of coffee. As
people entered or exited the bank, he snapped their photo. At around
ten-fifteen, a man in an ill-fitting blue business suit entered the bank.
Slater wouldn’t have paid much attention except the man stopped for just an
instant to glance up and down the street before entering the bank.
Maybe he was just waiting on someone… or
maybe not
, Slater thought as he depressed the camera’s button repeatedly.

For no discernible
reason, Slater decided to the follow the man into the bank. Casually, Slater
strolled in one minute after the man in the blue suit. He made his way
purposefully to the counter, holding blank deposit slips and such. With
practiced ease, Slater reached for a slip and a pen before raising his head as
if in thought and glanced around. Blue Suit was standing in a teller line – not
Noah’s or
Tangra’s
– and was just as casually
glancing around the bank. Slater watched him glance to the areas of the bank
where the cameras were located and then to the area the vault and lockboxes
were kept. When he became the second in line for the teller, Blue Suit glanced
down at this watch and then causally left the line and walked out the door.

Slater slipped out behind
him and followed him at a safe distance. As the tellers had done the day
before, Blue Suit entered the enclosed alleyway and went into the Mexican
Restaurant. From inside the shop across from the restaurant, through his camera’s
zoom lens, he watched the man slide into a seat at the bar and
order
something from the young girl behind the counter.
Slater watched the man converse with the girl while she poured him a cup of
coffee before disappearing into the back. A few minutes later, the bartender
from yesterday appeared from the back. The bartender was lean and wiry and had
a scar which ran down the side of his face, broken only by the thin beard
following his jawline. The man was familiar to Slater, but he wasn’t sure why.
He clicked several pictures of him.

Casually, the bartender
began to wipe down the bar and glanced at Blue Suit and said something quietly
to him when he rose from his seat at the bar. Slater watched Blue Suit shake
his head, and quick as lightning, the bartender reached across the bar and
grabbed him by his lapels and shook him.
 
The bartender had his face inches away from Blue Suit and was talking
animatedly.
What was that about
?
Maybe it had nothing to do with his case… but Slater knew better. After straightening
his suit, Blue Suit walked quickly out of the restaurant. Glancing at his
watch, Slater realized he needed to leave now in order to meet up with Wiseman
Linear. Snapping a few more pictures, Slater turned and headed for his rental
car.

Slater pulled into the
Oak Grove Mall parking lot at eleven sharp. As he had the day before, he
glanced around the lot, constantly on the lookout. Strolling into the Food
Court, he saw Wiseman Linear sitting where he’d sat the day before. He was
alone and had a red folder lying on the table in front of him. Causally, Slater
made his way through the surrounding tables to Wiseman’s.

“Linear,” Slater said in
way of greeting.

Slater studied him as he
sat down. Wiseman looked rough. He suit was rumpled and his hair uncombed. The
man was seriously unnerved.

Slater watched Wiseman
Linear glance around the area nervously before pushing the folder in his
direction. Slater kept his arms folded across his chest and his eyes trained on
Wiseman’s eyes.

“Why so
nervous, Wiseman?”

“I think I’m being
followed,” he said as his eyes once again darted about the room.

“Why do you think that?”
Slater asked calmly.

“All morning there’s been
a black SUV following me. I think I lost it. But I can’t be sure.”

“Is there anything in
that folder that might help me with the
Trusworths
?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve
compiled a list of his associates I’ve had dealings with as well as all the
financial information I have on him. This is more your area of expertise than
mine, so I’m not sure what will be useful to you,” Wiseman said defensively.

“Do the
Trusworths
have any weaknesses, any chinks in their armor?”

“You mean outside of
money laundering, mob ties, and bad taste in women?” Wiseman smirked.

Slater flashed his eyes at
Wiseman, effectively taking the grin from his face, and replied, “Yeah, beside
those things.”

“
Sylus
had a brother who was in low-level politics, but ascertained for more. I think
he was like a Mayor of some
po
-dunk little town
outside of Memphis. His name was Andrew. I remember there was some scandal and
mystery about how he died. Don’t know if you can use that or not,” Wiseman
said.

“What about
Sylus’s
mother? Is she still around?” Slater asked as he
jotted down notes.

“Uh, I don’t think so. I
know
Sylus
had a pretty young thing of about
twenty-six, twenty-seven who lived on the
Trusworth
estate.”

“Where is this estate?”
Slater asked.

Pointing to the folder,
Wiseman said, “It’s all in there.”

Slater made a few more
notes then said, “I want you to lay low for a while until I get this sorted
out. I don’t want you doing anything stupid. Do you understand? I’m going to
check out your story and if one thing doesn’t check out… let’s just say I’ve
got a tiger by the tail, “Slater smirked.

Slater’s grin vanished as
he saw the group of people who entered the food court.

“Listen, I need to go.
I’ll be in touch,” Slater said as he rose, gathered the folder, and left the
table. Instead of heading towards the exit doors, Slater instead positioned
himself behind a pillar situated on the outside of the food court. He watched
the group of four people as they entered and stood in line at the
Gorza
Chinese Restaurant. They each chose their food items,
put them on the provided red trays, and sat at a nearby table.

Taking out his cell
phone, and cursing himself for not having his camera, Slater began to click
pictures of Noah
Stephano
,
Tangra
Lamont, Blue Suit, and
Nash Burkes –
the Vice President of
the bank. Nash Burkes, the same man who’d hired Slater to stave off a bank heist.

Slater felt his blood
pressure rise. This was some seriously messed up stuff. This was Wiseman Linear
all over. His initial instinct was to storm to the table and beat the hell out
of Nash Burkes. But he’d been in Special Operations long enough to hold his
position. Clicking a few more pictures, Slater made his decision. He knew just
how to resolve this particular problem. Slater slipped away through the exit
doors with none of them being any wiser.

Upon reaching the parking
lot, Slater clicked on the pictures he’d just taken with his cell phone, saved
them, and forwarded them to his home e-mail address. It was just pure dumb luck
he was here. Of all the places they could have gone. Maybe his luck was
beginning to change… or maybe not.

Slater had gotten halfway
to his house when he spotted a black SUV about five or six cars behind him. At
first he chided himself for running from shadows. There were thousands of black
SUVs in Charleston. He, himself until recently, had one. What were the chances?
He decided to find out. Turning at the last possible minute off the highway
onto an exit, he cruised to the red light at the end of the exit. Glancing in
his rearview mirror, he cursed as he spotted the black SUV a couple cars behind
him. Slater pulled the rental car to the far right as if turning in that
direction. In his rearview mirror, he watched the SUV pull in to the same lane.
Slater waited until the last second before the light changed and he gunned the
car in the opposite direction, ahead of the other traffic turning left.
Glancing in the mirror, he saw the driver hit his steering wheel with the palm
of his hand.