“No. What’s this abou…? Oh.” Hard blue eyes narrowed. “Hold on.” The big man turned his head toward the back room and bellowed, “Randy Fucktard Boudreaux, get your thieving ass out here!”
Randy Boudreaux, AKA person of interest number two. He watched a younger man in pricey jeans and a black leather blazer slither through the door and over to the older Boudreaux. This one matched the “slick fucker” description provided by Kenny and Dobie to a T, although his even-toothed, obsequious smile didn’t quite hide the impatience behind his eyes. “What’s up, Uncle Billy?”
“Did you take my car? And keep in mind that if you lie, you’re lying to me, and you’re lying to this here lawman, who likely has the shit to go with your bull.”
Randy made of show of noticing West and offering him a slightly less genuine version of the “how can I help?” smile he’d given his uncle.
“Quit grinning like a cocksucker and answer the question.” Clearly, Uncle Billy was out of patience.
“I, um…I’m sure there must be some misunderstanding.”
“None whatsoever on my part,” Billy said. “I know damn well you didn’t ask to borrow my new ride, and I sure as shit didn’t hand over the keys, so if I check my safe and find the spare set gone, I may have to press charges for theft, which makes it convenient that there’s a cop standing right the fuck in front of me.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Randy backpedaled, all smiles and open palms. “You weren’t around to ask, so I borrowed the car to go see a client.” He turned to West. “Look, if I double-parked or ran a stop sign, just let me know the fine, and I’ll
—”
“The individual you’re referring to as your client,” West interrupted, “Roxanne Goodhart, indicates you stalked her, made verbal and physical threats toward her, and blackmailed her.” Not to him, she hadn’t asserted any of the foregoing, but to Kenny and Dobie, and Roger, respectively? Yes, she had. She’d indicated plenty, based on the information they’d conveyed to him.
“No, no.” Randy shook his head. “We have a contract. It clearly states I get paid no matter who books the gigs. Roxy owes me money for all these shows she’s been playing, and I reminded her about the debt. That’s all. Fact is, she’s the criminal. She stole a guitar right out of this shop.”
“Is that so?” Billy uncrossed his arms and turned more fully toward Randy. “Where’s the loss report? I need to submit a claim to the insurance company.”
“Ah…” Randy looked blank.
“No. Uh-uh. Hell no.” Billy banged the counter with a beefy fist, and Randy visibly jumped. “We’ve been over this before. Music City Pawn & Loan isn’t your private resale operation.” To West, he added, “Everything we take as collateral on a loan or buy outright is logged and sent to Nashville PD plus submitted to my insurance company. I haven’t stayed in business this long by running some half-assed operation that may or may not be fencing stolen goods. You check with Tran. He’ll tell you. Everything that comes into this shop comes in above board. If I can’t submit the loss to insurance, it never existed. It didn’t come through here.” He crossed his arms again and aimed the full weight of his glare at his nephew. “If one of your clients walked in here and picked up a piece of her own property that we had for…?” He looked at West.
“Safekeeping?” West offered.
Billy nodded. “We’re not in the safekeeping business, either, but for the sake of argument we’ll say we were holding onto this item as a favor to the owner. She picked it up. We’re out. We’re done.”
“You’d have no further business with her? No debt to settle, contractual or otherwise?”
“Absolutely none,” Billy agreed and squinted at Randy.
Randy swallowed, swiped his hand under his nose. “None,” he managed.
“And the ten grand she paid to Randy for the privilege of storing her property here?” Ten grand more than doubled the songwriting fee Roger had hinted Roxy was desperate to get her hands on, but he didn’t want to leave money on the table.
Randy’s eyes widened. “Five,” he croaked, when Billy fisted his hand again. “She gave me five.”
“You shook her down for five,” Billy corrected. “She’s got a cop for a guardian angel, and you, fucking dumbfuck, decide to shake her down? Who are you?”
“I’ll be needing that five back,” West interjected, well aware he was walking the wrong side of an extortion line, but for all the right reasons. Roxy had fallen victim to a con artist and suffered tangible and emotional losses as a result. She didn’t need an officer of the law sorting the legalities out for her. She needed a friend. The kind of friend who would stand between her and someone trying to hurt her. The kind of friend who knew the right thing to do was cut her free from the hooks some asshole had tried to sink in her and, drop by drop, bleed her dry.
By virtue of the circumstances, he had the power to cut those hooks right here and now, not to mention recoup her latest losses. A lawman might, technically, be obliged to encourage her to press charges and let the court system hash things out. A true friend would understand why the strictly legal route just wouldn’t provide swift and proper justice.
“I—I don’t have the full—”
Billy grabbed the front of Randy’s shirt. “I need a word with you in the back room.”
“Please, Uncle Billy, I can explain—”
“I’m sure you’d like me gone from your house, never to return,” West said to Billy. “I’ll need the full five in order to find my way out. And assurances that whatever contractual relationship existed between Ms. Goodhart and”—he nodded toward Randy—“is dissolved.”
“Let me discuss the situation with my nephew.” Billy shoved Randy through the door separating the sales area from the back room, but West heard the dense thud of a fist connecting with flesh before the door swung shut behind them. From there he heard a low, muffled growl and a higher, much more breathless voice responding. A few moments later, things subsided to intermittent pleading, Uncle Billy re-emerged, with Randy following close behind. The “slick fucker” now sported a split lip and a bloody nose. West thought of the three bruises on Roxy’s wrist the afternoon he’d picked her up hitchhiking and hoped Uncle Billy had stomped his balls while he was at it.
The two men stopped in front of West. “My sister’s son has something for you,” Billy said and elbowed Randy.