Mercy Kill_ A Mystery - Lori Armstrong [75]
Cherelle’s voice was so low I strained to hear it. “I met with him a couple of times. The last night we couldn’t come to terms and . . . that was the end of it.”
Bullshit. I waited, but I suspected that’s all we’d get from her. We’d probably gotten more than most. Definitely more than Dawson.
“Who are your new friends?”
Cherelle glanced up, eyes wide with panic, and she shrank into the booth.
It appeared her paramour had arrived.
I stood. “Hey, there. I’m Mercy Gunderson, running for sheriff.”
He glowered at Cherelle. His body vibrated with menace.
“Anyway, hope you don’t mind I bent Chantal’s ear. Whenever I come across a voter who’s undecided, I get a little carried away.” I forced a laugh. “So poor Chantal has been a captive audience.” Was intentionally bungling her name too over the top?
Victor said, “Do I look like I care who you are? Get your ass to our table, Cherelle. Now. I need a beer.”
I moved aside so Cherelle could escape.
She scooted past me without a word, Victor hot on her heels.
Naturally, I followed.
As did Anna.
Victor shoved Cherelle in a chair and sat next to her. When he realized we’d followed him, his reptilian eyes slitted further. “Did you hear me invite you over?”
I smiled. “I warned you I was relentless in my pursuit of potential votes.” I faced the Japanese/Indian man, the infamous Barry Sarohutu, who looked bored with the scene. “I’m Mercy Gunderson. I’m running for sheriff.”
Saro crossed his arms over his chest. “So?”
“So I wondered who you were voting for?”
His eyes bored into me. I allowed myself to stare back, if only briefly. Up close, Saro wasn’t bad looking. I guessed his age to be between thirty-five and forty-five. He’d slicked his jet-black hair into a ponytail. His dark eyes held the slant of his Japanese ancestry; however, his prominent nose was all Sioux. He radiated real danger, not the false cockiness I frequently ran into. This guy was ruthless and probably a total psychopath.
I hated him on sight. I hated that I had to continue this charade and couldn’t put my .380 between his eyes and blow his brains out across his brother’s smug face. But I especially hated I had to drop my eyes first and look away.
But my cowed behavior loosened his tongue. “You related to the former Sheriff Gunderson?”
“He was my father.”
Laughter from the other five guys at the table echoed around us.
“Weren’t you just bartending in here last week?”
I lifted my chin. “Yep. I know firsthand how hard it is to make a living in this county.”
“No, you just gotta be on the top of the food chain.”
More laughter.
Cherelle sat with her head bowed.
I couldn’t hold my composure much longer. “So can I count on your vote?”
Saro cocked his head, studying me like a piece of meat. Or a piece of ass. “I’ll vote for you. But you gotta do something for me.”
Don’t ask. Just walk away.
“What’s that?” I managed.
“Get on your knees.” Saro’s gaze whipped between Anna and me. “But maybe you don’t know what that phrase means?”
Seething, I blinked, acting confused.
“Yeah, bro, you might be right. Maybe Cherelle should demonstrate. Since you’re friends and all. She could give you a few pointers.” Victor grabbed Cherelle by the hair, bringing them acne-pocked cheek to scarred cheek. “Get on your knees. Show them how you make a living.”
I couldn’t stand by and watch forced humiliation. “That’s not necessary,” I said, backing away. “Nice talking to you but I, ah, see some other people I need to touch base with.” I purposely staggered back and raced into the back room.
Self-satisfied male laughter burned my ears.
I braced my hand on the wall and sucked in several deep breaths. Once I’d calmed down, I glanced at Anna.
“Well, that was fun. Not. Can we go now?”
“No. As soon as they’re gone, we’ll go.”
Meeting Sarohutu and Victor convinced me they’d been involved in J-Hawk’s murder. I just couldn’t fit all the pieces together. Not yet. But I would.
If my performance tonight was