The air was damp and the sky lost behind a thick, fluffy smear of light grey and although the day was young it was already warm and promising heat and humidity. Lincoln Clay's car casually splashed through a puddle as he eased it into a parking spot outside the Blue Gulf Motel. He had come to collect John Donovan to take him to Pointe Verdun to retrieve his car from Burke's place. He had hopes of learning more about Theresa there.
Lincoln turned off his engine, got out of the car and headed up the damp metal staircase to John's supposedly flea-ridden quarters. He didn't bother knocking the door but instead tested the handle and found it unlocked. He opened it up to what John called 'the hub' but what Lincoln was starting to consider a den of crazy. With equipment "borrowed" from the FBI John had set up a surveillance base in the motel. The bathroom doubled as a darkroom for photographs and the bedroom area had numerous photographs on the wall linked up with string and various files scattered on the coffee table. A recorder and tape player system was set up on another table beside a telephone. Lincoln figured the benefit of it being a rundown motel was that there was no maid to come poking into John's affairs. It wasn't all good though as a musty smell of damp combined with cigarettes filled the place, always seeming that little bit worse every time Lincoln visited.
John was crouched at the table muttering to himself as he puffed at a cigarette and flipped through a file. The glass ashtray to his left was already half-full of stubs and ash.
Lincoln felt a spark of surprise as he found himself looking down at an upside down black and white mugshot of Theresa Navarro. "You don't waste time," he said chirpily.
John glanced up at his friend revealing a bloodshot stare. "No, wasn't expecting her to have a record mind, thought the big brothers might have kept her out of crime."
"So what did she do?" Lincoln quipped curiously.
"A couple of things. At eighteen she got drunk with some friends, broke into one of the schools, invaded the music room and started up an impromptu band on the street. Cops booked her for breaking and entering, theft of a trumpet and disturbing the peace. Charges got dropped and she just got a fine. At twenty-one she drove a car at a police vehicle head on whilst leaning out the window and making chicken noises," John explained calmly. "She lost control of the car and ran it into a wall instead." He looked back down at the file and read, "arrested for dangerous operation of a vehicle and attempted assault of police. Released without charges." He looked back at Lincoln. "There's an unproven rumour the arresting officer found himself dangling from a very high rooftop for a spell."
"I guess her brothers did keep her out of crime then," Lincoln mused. "What was her motive for charging the cops?"
John shrugged. "Doesn't say, I'm guessing she either wanted to fuck with the police or her brothers or both. I haven't learned much more about her yet, mother died close to her birth, maybe because of it. She's twenty-six, brother Roberto is forty-two, Quintiglo is forty, Renzio is thirty-six and Tommaso is thirty-three, either mum and dad really wanted that girl or Theresa was a surprise. Family is Italian, obviously, dad and mum first generation, came over on the boat with a six-year-old Roberto and four-year-old Quintiglo. Roberto served at the end of World War Two for a year and Renzio is a Vietnam vet just like us."
"Were you up all night with this?" Lincoln pried. He knew he should be grateful but John's eyes almost looked bruised they were so dark. "Who the hell gets you this kind of information at night?"
John shrugged as he stood up. "I have my sources. I need more time though, still don't know her story or how you might know her."
"How she might know me," Lincoln corrected, "I don't know her."
John grinned at this as he stood up. "Right, well let's get my car."
"The van not good enough for you?" Lincoln quipped mockingly as he turned and led the way out. He was glad to put the stale stench of damp rot and smoke behind him.
"It's not really fast enough for driving away from psychotic masked men," John retorted sarcastically. He closed the front door behind him, locked it and followed Lincoln down the metal staircase to the waiting car.
The drive to Pointe Verdun was pleasant, disturbed only by a brief scuffle over the radio station between John and Lincoln, which Lincoln won. It drizzled on the journey but by the time they arrived in the place more commonly known as Irish Point the clouds had parted and the day was looking fresher.
Lincoln pulled into the entrance of Burke's Iron & Metal with ease, waving out the window casually at the Irish immigrant workers who lingered in the scrap yard smeared in oil and grease working hard at various vehicles, the majority of which were stolen. Lincoln followed the bumpy path round to the brick and wooden buildings that acted as both garage and home for Thomas Burke.
Lincoln parked close to the door, got out of the car and led the way through a rickety green door to a busy garage. A lively folk song played on the radio whilst the odour of cheap coffee and whiskey mingled with the stronger stench of oil. At the coffee machine two men stood. One was an imposing man who was muscular but heading towards fat, bristle faced with a thick crop of reddish-brown hair his threatening appearance was marred just a little by the colourful flower patterned shirt he donned under a worn, tacky, brown leather jacket. The second man, shorter and leaner, checked every box of average- fair skinned, brown eyed and brown haired, he was mostly unremarkable and his clothes were just as bland as he was. They were Lincoln's underboss Thomas Burke and professional car thief Hank McGahee. Hank also oversaw the livery service Lincoln took full advantage of.
Burke, despite the early hour, already had a half-drunk beer bottle in hand whilst Hank prepared a cup of a coffee with the texture of tar.
"Morning boss," Hank greeted chirpily in a bright Dublin accent.
"Lincoln," Burke growled out in a thick Irish accent as he gave John a look of immediate disapproval. "Who's this, your lawyer?"
Lincoln laughed. "No Burke, he's a friend, here for his car."
Hank nodded. "Car's ready and all," he advised, "had to give it a new bonnet, what did the damage?"
"An axe," John retorted bluntly.
"Did you piss off a woodcutter?" Burke scoffed.
John folded his arms and looked at the alcoholic testily. "Yes, that's exactly what I did," he retorted stonily.
Lincoln chuckled and shook his head. "Not really, trouble in the bayou with a young woman. Actually, I was hoping you might know her Burke."
Burke looked at Lincoln questioningly and waited for him to proceed.
"Theresa Navarro?" Lincoln queried as he held Burke's gaze, ready to spy his reaction.
Burke let out a flurry of loud curses before smacking Hank on the back of his head. "What the hell have you been doing with that daigo slut now?"
Hank winced and sidestepped Burke to avoid the next blow. "It wasn't me boss, I swear!" Hank protested. At Lincoln's mentioning of the woman's name his neck had turned a vibrant pink and he had turned his gaze pointedly on the floor.
"It gets better and better with this woman," John remarked cheerfully with a grin.
Lincoln held both his palms up and outwards in a failed attempt to calm Burke. "Easy Burke I wasn't trying to imply anything," he said.
Thomas turned an ugly glower on the former soldier. "Then why the hell did you ask about her?" he demanded. He glanced at John pointedly. "What trouble did you have with her?"
"Masked men with axes trouble," John replied calmly, "and a few shotguns." He turned a smirk on Hank. "Not the same trouble you had with her I presume?"
Hank shook his head as he gave Lincoln a concerned look. "Is Tess alright?"
Lincoln nodded with a calm expression. He wondered at Hank using a shortened version of her name, how close was he with her?
"A few scratches but she'll live," Lincoln reassured the car thief before he turned his attention to his fuming underboss. "What did she do to annoy you Burke?" he pried.
"She's related to those Italian mob assholes," Burke complained, "think they are something because they wear suits. I tell you, suits or not a bomb would blow them to pieces pretty damn quick! Stupid fucks didn't do much when Marcano took my business over."
"Come on Burke they're Vito's boys," Lincoln said, "they're waiting on their chance with Marcano just like all of us."
"You can't trust an Italian," Burke insisted with a scowl, "they're too much about keeping it in the family, no loyalty except to their own and even that's doubtful."
"Because this place has such a variation on culture and race," John sneered as he gestured outwards to the garage with both hands.
"Anyway," Lincoln interrupted before Burke could retort, purposely stepping in front of John to block him from Burke's sight. "Theresa, what did she really do to annoy you?"
"Damn near did the splits she had her legs open that often round here," Burke growled out as he gave Hank another glare of disapproval.
John let out a laugh of surprise and glee before he could help it. "Shit, I bet the big brothers loved that."
Hank sighed. "I'll get the keys to your car," he grumbled. He set down his cup and walked off hastily.
Lincoln watched him go with a curious stare as he wondered how serious Theresa's dalliances had been with the Irishman or was it men? Was she one of the fast women Danny had tried to impress with Lincoln's Drifter? Surely Danny would have mentioned her.
Burke muttered a curse. "Stupid bastard," he grumbled, "thinking with his dick not his head. Normally I can understand that but it's not like she's a nice piece of ass." He looked at Lincoln disapprovingly. "You seen her right? Crazy like her brothers."
"Jesus Link are we in a soap opera now?" John queried mockingly. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction Hank had gone and wondered unkindly what Theresa had seen in the man. "True love or a one night stand in potato town?"
"Why are you asking about her anyway?" Burke demanded.
"I just wanted to know how long she'd been on the scene," Lincoln retorted vaguely.
"Hasn't been," Thomas said bluntly, "not for a while, got what she wanted. Course, she's like haemorrhoids, you think you've got rid of her and then she pops up again to annoy the arse outta you."
John laughed at this but Lincoln continued to look disapproving, unamused by the comparison. "Shit Burke, she's not that bad." Lincoln wanted to ask if Danny had known her but the question caught in his throat and he looked to Burke's half-empty bottle. It wasn't even noon. He knew he couldn't bring himself to say Danny's name and potentially push Burke over the edge for the day. He decided he'd try and ask Nicki instead or maybe Hank when they were away from Burke's scorn.
Hank had returned with the keys looking embarrassed still. He handed them over to John and said brightly, "car's out front."
"Well, since this can't get any more awkward we should go," John suggested brightly.
Lincoln nodded. "Bye Burke, I'll talk with you soon. Thanks for the assist Hank."
The Irishmen nodded back.
"I got whiskey stashed around here somewhere," Burke grumbled to Hank as Lincoln and John headed back outside, "make some proper coffee would you?"
Outside John reunited with his car with a serious stare. He ran his fingertips along the new bonnet gingerly before studying the windscreen up close. "You know I almost feel bad for bringing up dear old Tess," he mused as he stood upright, "your friend did a good job here, poor payment talking about his possible ex-girlfriend, or is that ex-girlfriend of the whole Irish gang?" he quipped tauntingly.
Lincoln frowned over at John and sighed. He knew there was a lot Burke and Hank weren't saying but he wasn't sure what. "I'll give him a good tip," he offered. "Still doesn't explain why she thinks she knows me, if Danny had mentioned her to me I'd remember."
John gestured to Lincoln's scar with one finger. "Even with the head injury? Maybe that bullet knocked a few memories out of you."
Lincoln shook his head pointedly. "No, I remember all the other shit he told me. I'm going to head by River Row and see how she's doing, do you want to come?" Lincoln gave his friend a teasing smile. "You did rescue her after all."
"Don't remind me," John complained, "a momentary lapse of sense in the bayou. Alright I'll come but don't forget Frank Pagani is going to be due back from Cuba soon, can't lose sight of the important things."
Lincoln nodded agreeably. "I know."
"Ham and eggs," Vito grumbled, "ham and eggs." He looked down at the pan of frying eggs disapprovingly before he lifted it off the cooker ring and dished them onto a plate of cooked ham. He gazed at the meal with disgust, it was so plain and crude, an insult to his skills really but it was what Theresa had insisted upon and he could hardly deny her breakfast in a God damn restaurant.
Vito lifted the plate and headed out of the kitchen, pausing as the main door opened. "What is with people and interrupting meal times?" he queried sardonically.
Renzio entered the restaurant followed by Lincoln and John. Vito took in John's tired expression and remarked sarcastically to Lincoln, "hey kid were you hunting through trash? Looks like a raccoon's followed you in."
John scowled at the comment but didn't bother retorting, he knew he deserved it after his nickname for Vito last night.
"Hey Vito," Lincoln retorted pleasantly, "we just thought we'd call and check on Theresa."
"Why?" Renzio grumbled with a hostile stare thrown back at the pair. "Think we can't look after her?"
"Well she was running from masked madmen in the bayou but no, I'm sure that's just your way of toughening her up," John sneered.
Renzio turned sharply so that he was directly facing John. "Hey fuck you blondie," he snapped.
"Fellas," Vito interrupted, "it's too early for this shit. Ren don't forget this is the man who found your sister," he added pointedly.
Renzio bristled slightly before glancing over at Vito and cringing under his stern sapphire stare. "Right boss," he muttered quietly.
Vito set down the plate on the waiting table at last. A jug of water and a pot of fresh coffee sat with it. "Go get your sister," Vito ordered, "tell her, her idea of breakfast is ready." He pulled another face of disgust at the ham and eggs.
Renzio nodded before heading through the side door that led to the wooden balcony and staircase.
"Didn't I suggest you stay out of this?" Vito quipped bluntly as he gave Lincoln a serious stare.
"Your suggestion was noted," Lincoln retorted frostily as he held the older man's stare. He didn't appreciate Vito's tone or his attempt to order Lincoln about.
Vito frowned and ran a hand through his greying hair. "Your mistake to make kid," he murmured. "I just thought you'd more important things to be getting on with," he added pointedly.
"I'm a great multitasker," Lincoln replied bluntly.
The side door swung open as Renzio returned followed by the slightly worse for wear Theresa. Her dark hair was an unkempt, frizzy mess, bruising at formed on her right cheek and below her left eye, her lip was swollen in the corner and the ligature marks on wrists had turned to black bruising. Her ruined garments were gone, replaced with a pleated, navy skirt, a sleeveless, red shirt and soft, flat blue shoes. She limped, favouring her right leg although her left leg, which had a fresh bandage about it, didn't look too bad for suffering an alligator bite.
"Morning," she greeted cheerfully.
"Morning," Lincoln retorted calmly, "do you remember us?"
Theresa nodded. "Lincoln and John, do you remember me yet?" she queried airily as she gave Lincoln a scrutinising stare.
He shook his head. "No and I'm starting to think you've mixed me up with someone else."
"No, not you," she retorted seriously, "you hung that Dixie Mafia fuck for the world to see, it was glorious. Only wish I could've seen it in person, I would have set fire to that wheel after and let him burn as he hanged," she said with a wide smile.
"What did he do to you?" Lincoln pried calmly. It was some what of an open question, there wasn't many Doucet hadn't offended or wounded in some way.
Theresa's expression darkened and she clenched her fists. Renzio's right hand came down on her shoulder and he gave it a light squeeze whilst glowering at Lincoln over her crown.
"Eat your food before it gets cold," Vito ordered, "I'd complain it took effort but it didn't."
Theresa nodded as she gave Vito a grateful look before heading over to the table and the waiting ham and eggs. Her smile widened. "Perfect, sunny side up," she enthused before she sat down.
Vito folded his arms and grumbled, "well of course it's perfect, hard to fuck that up."
"We visited Pointe Verdun this morning to retrieve my car," John remarked cheerfully. "Would you believe they got all your blood out? I have to say as well, your Irish friends speak very highly of you," he added chirpily with a small grin.
Renzio glowered at the blonde, his mouth twitching as he resisted the urge to swear.
Theresa calmly finished digesting her mouthful of egg and ham before turning to John with a smile. "Are they still telling that joke that you can tell I'm Italian because I know my way around meatballs?" she quipped innocently. "Or that I give a foamier head than a barman? Now that one I liked, it was clever."
Lincoln felt a sudden of rush of heat at his neck. Vito gave a small smile from the shadows of his grey hat whilst John laughed. Renzio muttered several curses in Italian before snarling, "do you have to make it easy for them Theresa? You shouldn't talk about yourself that way."
Theresa waved her brother off with her left hand before picking up her cutlery again. "Relax Ren, it's exaggerated bullshit, Burke just says these things. You get annoyed you give him what he wants, you should just laugh, some of the jokes are funny."
"Hank didn't deny it as bullshit," Lincoln pointed out.
Theresa looked sheepish as her grey gaze darted up to him. "Hmm you have been doing some poking around this morning." She pushed a strand of her brown hair back and ate a generous portion of ham. "I suppose it doesn't matter now, seeing you're all together to get Marcano." She turned her stare on John. "But I do owe you and you did bring it up. Alright, Marcano tightened up on the Italian gang, strangled his hold and kept demanding more money. Burke was already on his ass, lost a shipment and his district, desperate times, desperate measures, figured if he wasn't in with Marcano anymore then he was fair game."
"What did you do?" Vito demanded as he took a step forward. This was the first he had heard about business with Burke and he filled with irritation. The money woes of the Italian gang had been down to him, Marcano had been trying to snuff him out, stop him from being able to kick up the cash so the Commission would grant Marcano permission to off Vito. It had meant a very uncomfortable period of Italians getting kicked around by Southern hicks as they all followed their Marcano's orders to put the squeeze on and demanded their cut.
"Got access to the moonshine from Connor," Theresa answered blithely, "stole it with Quinn and sold it quick for cash at the docks. I also got the keys to the garage of the prize cars from Hank and kept him busy while Quinn and a few others took what they could and sold them on to the district racers. It got us fast cash when we needed it but I made sure Danny's favourite car wasn't taken," she added defensively.
"So you kept men in Burke's organisation busy with sex in order to distract them while your brother Quinn robbed them?" Lincoln surmised with his eyebrows slightly raised as he failed to hide his look of bemusement.
Renzio sighed angrily as he saw the look of disgust Vito was giving his sister. "Fuck Tess, they didn't need to know it but if you're gonna tell things like that, tell it right."
Theresa glanced up at her brother apologetically and shrugged. "What did I leave out?" she queried in feigned confusion. "Oh, the striptease at the start of the night, right, so Quinn could spike their beer kegs, got them knocked out so we could steal the cars in peace and some petty cash."
"Stop protecting him," Renzio ordered. He glowered at John moodily wanting desperately to shoot the smirk off his face. "The Dixie Mafia decided to round up a few of us, figured we might pay up quicker with an incentive, seemed some of them didn't get the memo that Marcano didn't actually want us paying up. Tommy was one of them, out one night with a woman who was in their pay, she drugged him and called them up. They took them out to the bayou and got word to us that they weren't coming back alive unless we paid for the privilege. When they returned one, Dino, as a box of charred bones and ashes we knew we didn't have time either."
"You paid them off and never said a word about it to me?" Vito demanded loudly with a look of outrage.
Renzio winced slightly as he looked to his boss apologetically. "We didn't have the time boss or the muscle, not back then. No one wanted you to worry, you had enough shit and..."
"And what could I do, right?" Vito quipped bitterly.
"Well what could you do?" Theresa snapped at him hotly. "What the hell can anyone ever do about those Dixie bastards? They've been torturing people out in that swamp for God damn years and it just goes on and on. The things that happen out there, you don't hear about it, don't ever know. People bleed out there." She shuddered and her stare turned vacant for a moment. "Covered in blood," she murmured. She set down her cutlery. "Anyway, that's all in the past, I've other things to worry about."
"Like you're friend?" Lincoln quipped.
"Yeah, Anna," Theresa retorted moodily.
"Who were the masked people?" John pried.
Theresa gave him an irritated stare. "Didn't I tell you enough? What does it matter to you who they were?"
"We want to help," Lincoln retorted swiftly.
Theresa folded her arms in her lap and raised her eyebrows at this. "You don't have anything better to do?" she remarked sardonically.
Lincoln gritted his teeth at this and grumbled, "I'm getting tired of that assumption. I can multitask."
"Hmm I get that, you help me, maybe you figure out how I know you," Theresa retorted coyly.
"You could just tell him?" John suggested lightly.
Theresa gave a small smile at this. "I could but he wouldn't believe it and where's the fun in that? Sure aren't you enjoying learning how I fucked my way round Irish Point? Think what else you could learn about me," she mused merrily.
"And there's that Navarro craziness slipping out," Lincoln murmured. He ignored the look of ire he earned from Renzio at this. "Right now I just want to help your friend," he said calmly.
"Hmm that's all I want to do," Theresa mused. She stood up, raised her arms to hug her torso as if she were cold and gave Lincoln a serious stare. "I can't let you help, I can't have the sky fall on you too."
