by Shadoe Masters
Kylie's important-looking corporate business card spurred one of the two apathetic women in the outer office into scuttling through the door marked "J. Stinton" right away. She returned after a brief wait, followed by an affable man wearing a cowboy hat and tie, and a wide, welcoming smile. His eyes noted Burt and Tyler standing behind Kylie and Mr. Warrick, then looked Kylie appreciatively up and down before settling on Mr. Warrick. He held out a hand toward him. "Mr. Callahan?"
"I'm D.K. Callahan," Kylie said, stepping forward and taking his hand. Tyler and Burt exchanged a glance, but a slight twitch of the lips was all the reaction the lawyer showed at Stinton's obvious confusion. "This is my associate, Mr. Warrick, of Franklin, Warrick and Albright." Stinton's attention went toward Burt and Tyler standing near the door, but Kylie only looked expectantly toward Stinton, and waited.
Stinton pushed the cowboy hat back on his head and looked between Kylie and the lawyer, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I understand you're interested in doing some business with Stinton Entertainments," he said. "I didn't know you were a woman. I don't generally deal directly with--"
"Is this your office?" Kylie asked before he could finish. She started toward the door Stinton had just come through. "I think we'll be able to speak better in here." She stood waiting, one eyebrow gently lifted, her eyes darting briefly to the two women working in the outer office. "Our business is quite confidential, I can assure you."
Stinton frowned briefly, but gave in and led the way into his office. "Sure, right in here," he said, leading the way. He indicated two seats before the big desk that overpowered the lavish office, then took a seat behind it, regaining some measure of control. "How can Stinton Entertainments help you today?"
Kylie didn't waste time. Settling her briefcase on her lap and opening it, she pulled a sheet of paper from the top and pushed it across the desk toward him. "We'd like you to sign this."
He scanned it quickly, his expression flashing annoyance before he tossed it back toward her with a snort. It landed on the corner of his desk. "Drop the charges? Are you kidding? They stole a rather large sum of money from me, not to mention putting me to a great deal of... inconvenience. I had to cancel certain deals I'd promised." His tone made clear exactly what kind of deals.
"I'm sure," Kylie said, unsmiling. "Of course, if you don't sign, we will be forced to file this." She handed him a three page document this time.
He flipped through it, the smile on his face growing as he went. He tossed that one back at her too. "This is all just their word against mine," he said. "And while I'm a respected businessman, they're in jail for grand theft." He lit a cigarette. "And may I remind you, prostitution is legal in this state?"
Burt shot Tyler a quick glance. Neither men looked happy.
"Not in this county, not outside of a licensed brothel, and not if you entice someone into it," Mr. Warrick informed him. "I also believe arrangements are not to be made outside legal counties."
"I don't think I can be proven guilty of any of those things," Stinton said, leaning back in his chair.
But Kylie wasn't finished yet. "We are also prepared to file this," Kylie said, placing another sheaf of papers in front of him.
He chuckled as he picked up the neatly stapled sheets. That soon changed. With each line, paragraph, and page, his smile and confidence dropped away, until he sat staring, blank-faced, at the final sheet.
No one said a word, no one moved, while images flashed across his inner vision and reflected on his face.
Finally, he looked up, shot a glance toward the Las Vegas lawyer, then settled his eyes on D.K. Callahan. "How... How did you get this information?"
Kylie's eyes didn't waver. "You are not nearly as clever as you seem to think, Mr. Stinton," she said. "To someone who knows how to look." She delved into her briefcase again, then paused and shot him a glance. "I have more. I believe there was a young schoolgirl... Deborah Leonard?"
"You can't prove any of that," Stinton growled.
Kylie raised an eyebrow. "Do we have to prove any of that? I'm sure the Las Vegas Police Department will be more than happy to do some digging on their own, once we provide them with a few names, dates, and locations. I'm sure they'll keep a closer eye on things after that, as well."
Stinton swallowed. Recovering, he chuckled weakly, his false bravado but a ghost of his former swagger. "Hey, we can work something out..." His eyes shot back and forth between Mr. Warrick and Kylie. He settled on Mr. Warrick as the more sympathetic of the two. "I'm sure we can make some kind of deal."
Kylie picked up the first sheaf of papers, lying discarded at the corner of Stinton's desk. She glanced at it briefly, then turned it to face him and placed it carefully in the center of the desk, directly in front of him.
Stinton only hesitated a moment. Snatching up a pen, he scribbled a hasty signature at the bottom then tossed the paper across the desk at her. He wasn't smiling now. His eyes met hers with an angry scowl.
Mr. Warrick wasted no time scooping up the signed document and other papers scattered upon the desk and slipping them into his own briefcase. He closed it with a final snap.
Without another glance toward Stinton, Kylie turned to the lawyer. "Mr. Warrick, I think we're finished here." She rose smoothly to her feet and walked to the door, but Stinton stopped her before he exited.
"We've got a deal, right?" he asked. Then he stood, gathering his shattered confidence. "I don't want to see those accusations again."
Kylie stopped and turned to him. "I think your time here in Las Vegas is over, Mr. Stinton. We wouldn't want to meet again." Without waiting for reply or reaction, she walked out the door, followed by Mr. Warrick, Tyler, and finally, Burt.
Burt paused a moment at the door to glare at the man. He didn't like that he'd gotten off so easily, but they'd accomplished what they came to do. And he'd be satisfied with that. If the things Kylie had indicated were true, he'd talk to her about turning her information over to the police when they got back to Perfection.
Burt and Tyler waited, leaning against the Range Rover in front of the building as Kylie paused to speak to the lawyer. "I'd like you to file those immediately, Mr. Warrick," she instructed. "We'll be at the jail, waiting. If you meet any snags, you have my cell." Her expression hardened. "I don't intend to allow Mr. and Mrs. Rousseau to spend one more night in jail."
Mr. Warrick nodded. "I don't anticipate any problems, Ms. Callahan. I've already asked to see the judge. The whole process shouldn't take more than a few hours."
"Excellent," Kylie said with a smile.
"And what should I do with these other papers?" Mr. Warrick asked, referring to the document that had so frightened Stinton.
Kylie's smile turned feral. "File them, of course," she said. She reached into her briefcase and handed him several other documents. "See what you can do with these, too," she continued, handing them over. "Not nearly as detailed as those, of course, but I'm sure you'll find something you can work with."
Mr. Warrick added them to the stack in his briefcase. "I'm certain I will," he assured her.
"And make no mistake, Mr. Warrick," Kylie added. "I want Stinton buried."
"I'll see to it, Ms. Callahan," he replied, holding out a hand. "It's been a pleasure working with you. I hope I can be of service again."
"I have a few other tasks I'll need you for, Mr. Warrick," Kylie said with a cryptic smile as she shook his hand. "I'll be in touch as soon as we've settled the Rousseaus."
They parted and Kylie got in the Rover.
As Burt started it and pulled into traffic, Tyler leaned against the front two seats. "So, what exactly was in those papers anyway?" he asked.
Kylie's mouth hardened as she turned to meet his eyes. "Trust me, you don't want to know. Suffice to say, however, he's a very unsavory man - even for Las Vegas. And if Mr. Warrick is as good a lawyer as I'm starting to think he is, Stinton won't be seeing the sun for a long, long time.
Meeting Lucas and Sabine Rousseau had been enlightening. It was easy to see where Gustave got his appearance. Sabine Rousseau was a very tall woman - nearly Burt's height - slender and shapely, with bright red hair and exotic upswept eyes. Her voice was breathy and sugar-sweet. Lucas, even taller than Burt, had very dark and excessively dry skin that peeled constantly. His voice was the opposite of his wife's - baratone deep and rumbling. When he chuckled, as he often did, being of a sunny disposition, people looked for rockslides. The only truly obvious defect he had were his hands, which were lobster claw-shaped, like his son's. Lucas handled his jailtime ordeal well, coming out with a wealth of stories to tell, while Sabine weathered her time by retreating to a dignified distance. Until they spotted Gustave, that is. Then she unbent and hovered over her only chick as any mother would do.
By the time Burt, Tyler and Kylie had sprung Lucas and Sabine from jail, convinced them they weren't just more American "entrepreneurs" trying to lure them into a life of sin, reunited the happy couple with their son, and reshuffled the inhabitants of Perfection so they'd all have a place to sleep for the night, it was almost midnight. Burt and Kylie paced in the darkness beside Nancy's house, enjoying the cool evening breeze and the absence of joyous French voices catching up on the events of the past few weeks.
They could still hear them chattering excitedly from within the house's living room, Larry making a random comment from time to time, Lucas's bass rumble clearly discernable from the babble, and Nancy's voice occasionally raised to offer food or drink or extra pillows.
"She lives for houseguests," Kylie said, shaking her head with a smile. She was back to her usual jeans and t-shirt, her hair cascading around her shoulders, just an annoying diagonal crimp to prove it had been restrained into a business-like chignon for the day.
Burt shook his head, though without the smile. "You going to be all right on the couch?"
Kylie grinned. "I'm a restless sleeper, so I'll roll off a few times." She preferred stretching out when she slept and small surfaces could be dangerous. "On second thought, I might just throw some blankets on the floor. Not as far to fall."
Burt stopped, his signal that they'd walked too far into the darkness and it was time to turn around. They turned, and followed their footsteps back.
"Besides," she continued, "it should only be for a couple of nights. Gustave should be fine with Larry. Those two look like best friends."
Burt nodded. "We should be able to get that trailer ready for them in a couple of days." He frowned in thought. "It's moving it that might prove to be a problem."
"It is a mobile home, isn't it? Just hook it up to a truck!"
Burt gave her That Look. "There's more to it than that," he began, his voice in 'lecture' tone. "The power lines have to be run, water lines, they'll need to tap into the well, a mountain of permits - including Twitchell's. And that old trailer has been sitting there so long, we have no idea if it's movable at all. I don't even know where we'll move it to."
"What about that old Riley place?" Kylie suggested. "You said they had that trailer on their land. Can't you just hook up to their power? That's far enough away from town, don't you think?"
Sabine Rousseau, once she learned about Perfection Valley's isolation, was more than happy to settle her family in the area - even after El Blanco had roared through town. Twice. Her experience with American "showbiz" hadn't been to her liking and she wasn't eager to take her chances in the world again. Apparently, whatever Sabine wanted, Lucas and Gustave were only too eager to give her. Since Stinton had signed the document admitting that the $50,000 they were found with was their own money, rather than his, they had a nice little nest egg that would get them started in whatever they wanted to do.
Of course, Jodi had taken one look at them with their son and started making plans for Perfection Valley's own little sideshow attraction. She was just waiting for the family to get settled before she suggested the idea.
Kylie didn't plan to tell her that Lucas Rousseau had already asked about the possibility of creating his own new American sideshow, right there in Perfection. She figured she'd give him a little bit of negotiating advice before he had to go up against Perfection's resident MBA.
"What if the Rileys come back?" Burt wanted to know. "We never did find out what happened to them."
Kylie stared at him. "They've been gone twelve years, Burt. I doubt they'll be back in the next month or so. By then we'll have them all settled. Far enough from town that they'll get a little peace, close enough to visit." As far as Kylie was concerned, that settled the matter.
"We'll have to find a way to get them legal title to the land. Especially once we get the government involved. All these damned permits! I--"
"I'll get Warrick on it," Kylie said quickly. As much to settle the matter as cut off Burt's impending rant about government bureaucracy, interference, profiles, and who knew what else.
Burt stopped.
Kylie automatically turned around and started the other way before she realized they weren't even halfway back to the house. She turned back when she realized Burt hadn't moved. She cocked her head to the side, puzzled at the suspicious glare he leveled at her.
"'DK'?" he accused.
Kylie shifted, looked away, then glanced back at him. "What?" she finally asked, innocently, looking off to where the moon outlined the distant cliffs.
He raised an eyebrow.
She endured the silence a moment. She knew what he was doing, and it wasn't going to work. She stared stoically toward the cliffs. Finally, she looked at him. He was still there; that eyebrow still waiting. "Don't you aim that thing at me," she snapped.
The eyebrow crept a fraction of an inch higher.
She turned her gaze back to the distant hills.
Burt settled his hands on his hips.
Kylie's eyes darted toward him, then snapped back. She sighed, rolling her eyes. She turned angrily to face Burt, jamming her own hands on her hips. "Doreen, okay? I hate it! And if you repeat that anywhere, I'll... I'll post all your security codes on the Internet!" Burt started, towering over her a moment, then he relaxed. "No, you wouldn't."
She turned away from him again, chin in the air, smug and defiant this time. "Yes, I would."
"No, you wouldn't," he said, pacing into the darkness.
"Yes, I would!" she assured him, following.
"You wouldn't."
"I would!"
"No, you wouldn't."
"Burt! I said I would!"
"No, you wouldn't..."