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Disclaimer: Don’t own, don’t sue.


Chapter.4.


It had taken Logan a few trips up and down the island and he hadn’t slept since yesterday but finally he’d gotten some information. It wasn’t much but it was certainly as start. Given that many people didn’t even believe this guy existed, finding out anything at all was a minor miracle.


Logan sat in his office chair, with his ever present bottle of scotch, elbows leaning on his desk. He was looking at the picture again and realised that something didn’t quite sit right with all of this. An affair?---No, the way they were interacting, the body language. Logan was an expert reader of people and their behaviour. This wasn’t an affair. The information he’d managed to obtain told him that also. Apparently he was in trouble, BIG trouble. He couldn’t ascertain the exact nature but he did find out it was mob-related. But as to which mob family---the most telling comment he’d received was from a regular contact of his. The street vender from Brooklyn had laughed aloud when Logan had mentioned the name...


*

“Look Ritchie, if you’ve got anything to give me on the Blanc Diablo spill it, now!” Logan was at the end of his tether.


The vender laughed shortly, running his fingerless gloved hand down his beard. He gave Logan a toothless grin before saying, “From what I’ve heard---the infamous Remy the Gambit is a ‘dead man walkin’.”


“How so?” Logan asked almost suspiciously.


Ritchie shrugged his shoulders, “I don’ know. Maybe the man just pulled one too many dangerous capers. All I know is that whoever he’s crossed---they’re out for blood.”


Logan thought this over for a minute then he grabbed a paper off the news stand and began to walk away.


“Hey!” Ritchie called after him. A few yards away Logan turned, digging his hand into his trouser pocket under his trench coat. Retrieving a quarter he flipped it over to the man and continued on his way.


*


Logan picked up that paper now, dropping the photograph carelessly to the desk. The main headline was; MAYOR WORTHINGTON VOWS TO FIGHT ORGANISED CRIME. All that followed was an inane account of the rally and after party that had taken place yesterday. He glanced through it quickly but his eyes came to an abrupt stop when he read; local business man and Worthington associate Mr. Kenny Forge was also at the rally with his beautiful wife, society jazz and blues singer Ororo Munroe....


He read over her name a couple more times before sighing heavily and throwing the paper back down. “You’re becomin’ obsessed bub.” He took a drink of scotch, looking down at the paper when something caught his eye. Putting the bottle down he picked the paper up once more and read the small article that was tucked away in the left hand corner of the front page.


LENSHERR FAMILY DENY ALL CONNECTIONS TO THE MANCINI FAMILY KILLINGS. Local tycoon and alleged head of the Lensherr ‘Mob’ family, Mr. Erik Magnus Lensherr denied allegations yesterday that he was behind the fatal shootings that left three of the Mancini family dead. The two elder brothers Roberto and Fredo and a cousin of theirs, one Mr. Paulie De Ascentis where shot on the street when leaving a restaurant nearly two weeks ago. The Lensherr family are known to have connections with the Mancini’s but so far no action has been taken. But police insist they are investigating the Lensherr’s dealings with the well-known mob family.


Of course Logan already knew most of this and was pretty damn sure that it was the Lensherr’s behind the assassinations. But what interested him was the end note of the article; Late last year the notorious Lensherr family hit the headlines when it was alleged that Mr. Lensherr had had dealings with Warren Worthington the Second, father of the anti-mob Mayor during the 1920’s and some years prior. But nothing was ever proved and the allegations were quashed.


“I’ll bet!” Logan snorted as he took another drink. “Damn hustlers the lot of them.” He knew the time had probably come to inform his client of what he’d found so far. She may not have been sleeping with this Remy guy, but whatever was going on between them he had a gut feeling it was going to turn out a lot worse.


* * *


Remy Le Beau sat, or more over slouched in his seat at the back of ‘Floozy’s’, a dark and seedy joint a couple of blocks away from ‘Smokey’s’. It was only twelve in the after noon but already a thirty five centre litre bottle of Bourbon lay empty on a grubby table in front of him. The glass in his hand was almost tipping over as his head lolled down, his chin touching his chest. He didn’t stir when the bar door opened and the sound of high heals and accompanying heavy foot steps made their way over to him. Nor did he flinch a muscle as two of the vacant chairs around his table were pulled back, scraping loudly on the floor boards.


“Mr. Le Beau.” A richly toned female voice said, causing him to jerk his head up drunkenly. A lopsided grin spread across his face as he began to focus on the pretty woman, dressed head to toe in a stylish scarlet outfit, that was now sat directly opposite. She had a sultry, well sultry to his crossed eyes anyway, look on her face. A net guarded her heavily hooded dark eyes as she watched him, awaiting a response.


“Dat depends who be askin’ chere.” He pushed himself up straight as he tried to put on his sexiest smile. “Fo’ a beau’iful femme such as yo’self then yah, I be him.” It was then he happened to glance to his side and the smile dropped off his face as he observed the huge man sitting there. He was unbelievably big, fat some would say, but Remy would bet that most of the man’s roughly four hundred pounds of mass was in fact muscle. He looked from the man back to the woman and then back again. “An who migh’ yo’ two be den?” He asked keeping a suddenly weary eye on the man.


“Wanda Lensherr and this is my associate, Fredric Dukes, also known ‘affectionately’ as ‘The Blob’.”


Remy could feel himself starting to sweat but he managed to keep a cool veneer. “What dis abou’ den chere, I be a very busy man. I ain’t got de time for sittin’ about an’ makin’ idle chit chat.” He brought his glass to his mouth and to his dismay he felt his hand shaking. He knew exactly what this was about.


Wanda couldn’t stop a small smirk as she watched him, then she said, “So busy in fact, that you can be sat in a bar at mid day already drunk.”


Remy simply snorted and continued with his drink.


“What happened to you Le Beau? I always heard such good things about you---you were legend, the best apparently. Now look at you?”


Remy put his glass down and gave Wanda a sly grin. Looking her up and down almost lecherously he replied, “Well Remy may ‘ave fallen on---‘ard times but dere still be some t’ings he mos’ definitely got de knack for.” Ignoring the fact that the hired muscle was right next to him he leaned in towards Wanda and said quietly. “I know de owner of dis joint, mebbe Remy can show yo’ exactly what he still be good at---somewhere more comfortable.” His eyes flipped to the ceiling in indication of the hotel rooms above the bar. He was smiling at her as he leant in that bit closer when suddenly he heard a distinctive click. The smile faltered, then it was gone completely when he felt what he was certain was the barrel end of a gun pressing into his groin.


“My father is running out of patience with you Le Beau. If you’d like to keep the only implement that’s still of any use to you I suggest you stop playing me.”


“Hey chere, Remy jus’ be kiddin’! Dere’s no need to get heavy.” He sat back with his hands raised slightly in ‘surrender’. Dukes laughed quietly, the first noise he’d made since they’d disturbed Remy’s solo drinking marathon.


Wanda pressed the gun harder against Remy’s cock as she said quietly and with all seriousness, “As I’m sure you’re aware by now the Guild has passed your debt on to us as way of payment of a debt they owed the Lensherr family. My father is giving you two weeks to get what you owe.” She pressed the gun to him harder still, making him wince slightly. “Is that clear Le Beau? Because for your sake it better be like crystal.”


Remy nodded his head, he’d suddenly sobered up quite a lot. “I understand. I’m workin’ on it.” He slowly lowered his hands. Satisfied Wanda pulled back taking the gun away and slipping the hammer back down. She placed it carefully back in her purse before regarding Remy a little closer and giving him a playfully, sultry smile. #He’s really quite handsome# she thought suddenly. #It’s just a shame he’s turned into a tanked up looser. What a waste of an exceptional talent#.


“Here’s a tip Remy, maybe if you lay off this,” She picked up the bourbon glass holding it up in front of her, seemingly examining the liquid. Then her gaze dropped back down to Remy. “You’d be that master thief that I grew up hearing all those stories about.”


Remy said nothing to her as he regarded her darkly from beneath his brow.


“Remember, two weeks.” As Wanda stood so did Dukes, standing behind her like a bodyguard, his large hands folded at his front. Remy thought she was going to walk away but she bent down, leaning in close to his mouth with hers. “You’re not a stupid man---so don’t even think about crossing us.” She let her full, scarlet lips brush against his lightly before moving away and with a confident stride; her hips swaying gently as she and her partner departed the bar.


Remy shook as he released the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. Letting his head fall against the wall at his back he sighed heavily, whispering the words, “Mon Dieu” as he did so. “‘Roro baby, yo’d better come t’rough fo’ Remy.” He let his head come forwards again and with now almost uncontrollably shaking hands fumbled in his jacket pocket for his cigarettes.


* * *


“Are you ready darling?” Ororo said as she came into Forges office pulling on her thin, white gloves. She walked round the desk to him, placing her hands on his shoulders she leant in and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.


Forge didn’t take his eyes from the papers that he was studying intently. “Almost baby, just one or two more things to sort out.” He said giving one of her hands an affectionate pat.


Ororo peered down at the papers, “What are these about then?” She asked innocently.


Forge immediately pulled the papers away, stuffing them quickly into a labeless file. “Just accounts dear, nothing special but it has to be done---unfortunately.”


Ororo looked at him suspiciously; she may not have known much about accounts but whatever Forge had been studying they certainly were not them.


“I know I should probably get a secretary to do this stuff.” He said as he shuffled some more lose papers.


Ororo laughed, her sweet, low laugh “I don’t think so!”


Forge looked up at his wife, confused, “And why on earth not?”


She put her hands on her hips in a comical nagging wife pose, “If you think I’m going to let some half-brained floozy sit alone with my husband day and night,” She leant in to kiss his lips softly, “You’ve got another think coming mister!”


Forge laughed, but it sounded strangely empty as he eyed his wife. She had no idea the thoughts that were running through his head regarding issues of fidelity. He was startled from his chain of thought when the phone rang. Picking it up almost immediately he kept his eye on Ororo going over to the sofa as he said into the receiver, “Hello this is Smokey Jacks, Kenny Forge speaking.”


Whoever it was on the other end must have been important because as soon as they replied, they received his undivided attention. “Yes---uh hu---yes, yes I understand---um hum---I’ll be over as soon as I can.” He hung up the receiver.


“Who was that?---and please don’t tell me that it is business.” She said seriously.


“Baby doll!” Forge held his hands up as he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sorry but it can’t be helped. It’s important.”


Ororo got up from the sofa and sauntered over to her husband. Perching on the desk right next to him she let her dress ride up, gradually exposing her stocking clad thigh. “Now you wouldn’t let a girl go to lunch on her own would you?” She pouted at him.


Forge chuckled, running his hand up her leg. Shaking his head he said, “Baby you know I don’t want to.” He brought his lips down to her long thigh kissing it softly.
“But that was the Mayor---I’ve got to go.”


Ororo sighed, roughly pulling her dress back down as she slipped gracefully off the desk. She went back over to the sofa sitting down heavily; she snatched a magazine from the small coffee table to her left.


“Oh don’t be like that!” Forge pleaded half-heartedly as he watched Ororo flipping through the pages, tugging each one so hard it was a wonder they didn’t tear. He got up from his chair and crouched on his haunches in front of her. Laying his hand on her knee he said, “I’ll be as quick as I can baby, we’ll go for dinner instead yes? Hey don’t forget, we’ve got that club opening to attend next Saturday, remember?” He gazed up at her hopefully.


Ororo tried to ignore him initially but eventually she caved in. “Fine! But I want to go to the most expensive restaurant in town.” She was only half- serious in her request.


Forge got up, kissing her forehead he said, “You’ve got it sweet cheeks.” With that he grabbed his coat and hat from the stand by the door and left, giving his wife a quick wink just before he went.


Ororo dropped the magazine to her side, and gazed absently at the fan in the ceiling whirling around in its hypnotic rhythm. Now what was she going to do? It was too late to call up any of her friends and she did so detest to eat alone. She sighed as she thought over her options. She didn’t particularly want to go home just yet. Eventually she decided that she’d go fix herself a soda whilst she thought about it.


*


The club was completely empty, the bar staff weren’t due for at least another hour to start perpetrations for this evening. She wasn’t performing tonight, which was a rarity. She usually sang on most nights but she didn’t mind the work load---she liked to keep busy. She could never understand women like Betsy, content to lounge around the house all day and do nothing. Jean Summers was kind of the same these days but neither of them used to be like that. She didn’t know Betsy to well but apparently they were both active socially before they got married. It must have been the consequence of marring men in power---the social responsibility of being seen as the perfect wife. Ororo knew Forge had ambitions in that field and deep down---she hoped he failed. She knew it was kind of selfish but she didn’t want to end up like many of the women she met in those circles---Betsy in particular.


After she’d poured her soda she made her way round to the other side of the bar, climbing onto one of the high stools. She reached up to her hair, pulling out the hat pins and taking it off. Next she tugged her gloves off placing them on the bar with her hat. Then her thoughts turned to Remy. She shook her head slightly---that man! At times she wondered how he’d lived this long. She was still angry and yes---hurt even, that he’d threatened her like he had. But---to a degree---she understood. The memories of her youth, the hustle or be hustled law still had a strong impression on her. She knew that if she were in his position no doubt she’d do the same. But what really kept her from hating his guts was the fact that she knew he must have been appallingly desperate to stoop so low. They’d been close once upon a time---very close in fact, maybe she’d even loved him---once upon a time. The thought of anything seriously bad happening to him chilled her to the bone.


Ororo was about to take a sip of her drink when she heard foot steps behind her. She span around on her stool, scanning the club---it still looked empty. “Whose there?” She called, her voice echoing through the space. It was then she heard a low and quite frankly evil laugh. “Victor?”


The slow tapping sound of steel capped shoes rang out, and then she saw him, cigar in hand at the far side of the room. He started towards her but she turned her back and carried on with her drink. She wasn’t scared of him and she had no intention of letting him get the impression that she was. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t in until tonight.” She still had her back to him, playing casually with the stirrer in her soda.


Victor made a noise that sounded almost like a growl, low in his throat. It sent a shiver through her but still she didn’t show it. “Thought I’d come in early, check if anything needed,” he came up right behind her, his mouth close to her hair as he said, “seeing to.” He ran one large finger down her silver mane.


Ororo didn’t flinch at the touch, she wasn’t about to play into his hands. He wanted her to be scared of him---that’s what turned the sick fuck on. No instead she thought she’d play him at his own game. Turning around in her stool once more she looked up at the man. His short crop of blond hair was neatly combed back and his unnaturally dark eyes sparkled in the lamp light coming from behind the bar. She made a quick note of the fact that he’d actually bothered to shave today. “So, what exactly needs ‘seeing to’, I wonder.” She set her drink down on the bar behind her.


“Well, I think you know precisely what I mean.” He moved closer encircling his large hands around her hips.


Ororo smiled her slow smile, “Umm hum.” She agreed as she reached down at rubbed at his crotch, moving her hand up and down slowly. It didn’t take to long to get him standing to attention.


He made that noise again but this time it had more of an edge to it. “Now you’re gettin’ the idea. Don’t know why you’ve been so skittish for so long baby.” He squeezed at her hips tighter as she sped up her hand movements. “Oh yeah---you’ve never exactly struck me as the type not to give it up.”


“Is that so?” She was still smiling at him when suddenly her gentle caresses turned into a vice like grip. Victor practically roared in shock, pain and anger. Ororo couldn’t help but laugh, a sharp and unforgiving laugh. “How much of a fool do you think I am Creed? I wouldn’t sleep with a creature like you for all the riches in the world.” She gripped tighter, adding a little twist to her arsenal. He roared some more. “This is your one and only warning. You come near me again---they’ll need dental records to identify you, do I make myself clear.”


“Bitch---ARGH!” She gripped even tighter.


“Now, now,” She said in mock chastisement. “There’s no need for language like that.” She released her grip just a bit. “Do we have a deal?” Looking at her with unbelievable fury in his eyes, he nodded quickly, taking in a sharp breath. “I can’t here you!” She chimed as she twisted his genitals as far as she could.


“YES, YES, YES!!! NOW GET THE FUCK OFF ME!”


With that she let go, he stumbled backwards cupping his burning groin, his breathing coming in sharp pants. Ororo turned back round to the bar with a satisfied grin on her face and sipped at her drink.


Victor began to walk, as much as he could walk hunched over like he was, away, “You’ll fuckin’ pay for that, bitch! I swear, you will pay!”


Ororo chuckled lightly into her glass and then called out sarcastically, “Oh, I’m sure I will.” She heard him muttering expletives as he stormed out of the main room of the club, slamming the doors to the dressing rooms open with a vicious kick.


“That was quite some performance darlin’? Tell me, do you treat all your husbands employee’s like that?”


-TBC-





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