I focused on number three.
“Dead as in, not-breathing-anymore dead?” I asked.
“That’s the only kind of dead there is,” he replied.
“Holy cow,” I said.
He stared at me.
“Why?” I asked.
Luke didn’t answer but I knew why. Marcus didn’t blame me for what happened to Daisy. He blamed Bil y and whoever else was involved in this mess. I’d seen Marcus holding Daisy the day before. Whatever he was, criminal kingpin, gun dealer, pimp, he loved Daisy. Someone put her life in danger and that someone was going to pay.
“Maybe I should talk to him,” I suggested to Luke.
The half-grin came back.
“Although that would be entertaining, it’s not gonna happen.”
“Why not? Maybe I can persuade –”
“Roxie,” he interrupted me.
“Yeah?”
“Be quiet.”
I stared at him and then heaved a big sigh.
Being quiet might be a good thing.
He put a hand to the smal of my back, propel ed me toward the hal way door and then took me to the control room and Shamus.
* * * * *
“This is cool! ” I shouted when I entered the control room. Shamus ran to me and jumped up on me, his body aquiver with excitement. I just avoided him cracking three more ribs, gave his head a good rub and then gently pushed him off. He sat on my feet, tongue lol ing.
“Hi, I’m Monty,” a man with a blond military cut stood and smiled at me, offering his hand. I took it, we did a shake and I tried not to wince when nearly al my bones were crushed.
Monty was slightly older than most of Lee’s boys but no less fit. He was also slightly more in tune with social nuances, like saying hel o.
“What is al this stuff?” I asked, looking at al the monitors on shelves on the wal , DVD recorders under them, knobs, buttons and racks of electronic equipment. It looked like they could strap me in and we could go to Mars.
“This is the surveil ance room. We run security through here and… other things.”
I looked at the monitors.
I gawked at the monitors.
“Hey! That’s Fortnum’s! And so’s that… and that…
and…” I trailed off.
Dear God, they had nearly every corner, the front and back of Fortnum’s monitored. I watched Uncle Tex banging away at the espresso machine at the same time he seemed to be carrying on an argument with Duke.
Monty flipped a switch and Uncle Tex’s voice boomed into the room.
“I don’t want to listen to no f**kin’ Hank Wil iams, Jr.! You got Johnny Cash, I’l listen to Johnny Cash. If not, put Cream back on, Turkey!”