The Cain Casey Series

Chapter Ten

When Muriel entered the bar at the Piquant, the jazz ensemble was just stepping off the small stage for a break. She’d been there often, and she knew that the musicians were always as good as the drinks the bartenders poured. Shelby sat at a table in one of the alcoves, her back to most of the patrons in the room. She had let her hair down and was running her finger up and down the stem of her glass, seemingly deep in thought.

“Some might say there’s something really sexual about that.” Muriel pointed to Shelby caressing her Manhattan glass and laughed. “Is something wrong? I don’t mind taking a rain check.”

“Please sit. I was just going over my day and the little surprise it came with.”

One of the servers approached and pulled out her pad.

“Double Jameson neat, with an Abita Amber draft on the side,” Muriel said before the girl could ask. “And bring the lady another.”

“Trying to get me drunk?” Shelby flipped her hair back and smiled in a coy fashion.

“Not at all.” Muriel threw her coat in the empty chair across from her, sat, and placed her hands flat on the table as if to stretch them out before reaching for a nut from the bowl close to Shelby. “I’m trying to get you to a place where you forget three little letters that are so much a part of your identity. And make you forget my last name.”

“If what you’re talking about are FBI and Casey, that’ll take a whole lot more of these.” She pointed to her drink.

“As they say, Shelby, the night is young.”

With the quick efficiency the Piquant was known for, the drinks were delivered to the table with a fresh bowl of snacks. Muriel picked up the whiskey first and drained the glass. The smooth-tasting liquor blended well with the glass of rum she’d already had during her meeting with Ramon.

“Tough day yourself?” Shelby’s blue eyes widened a bit at the ease with which the whiskey had gone down.

“Just trying to catch up with you.”

“Now why does that make me think you don’t say those words often in any situation?”

“See, you bring out the best in me.” At the bar the green bottle came out again and the bartender poured Muriel a refill.

The murmur of quiet conversations filled the room, accentuated every so often with a laugh from one of the patrons, but Muriel was content to just enjoy the comfortable silence between them. It gave her a chance to look around and check if there was anyone of interest that Shelby should know about.

Dalton, Cain’s father, had taught her and Cain to study a room. “Never sit and not look around you, girls. One day it may make the difference between finding an enemy or their bullet finding you.” Her uncle repeated the lesson every time they were out together.

With a silent thank-you to the man who had taught her so much, Muriel finished her drink and reached for her beer, watching the stage. Every so often after she spotted them, though, she glanced at the two men sitting close to the bar. They had glasses of pale beer in front of them and were trying their hardest to fit in with a crowd that was just a bit out of their league as far as fashion was concerned.

“So what’s tonight really about?” Muriel asked Shelby, trying to sound casual.

“What do you mean? This is just drinks, Counselor,” Shelby answered with a smile, thinking that Muriel was flirting with her.

“So, not working tonight? You know, trying to find ways to dig up dirt.”

Still not understanding, Shelby put her hand on Muriel’s forearm. “I just thought after today you might need a friendly ear or shoulder, whichever you want. I told you that today and I meant it.” She squeezed the solid arm under her hand and smiled. “This is just about one friend helping another.”

Muriel looked at the hand touching her and felt like a block of ice had formed in her chest. This wasn’t about two friends finding comfort in each other’s company; it was someone trying to play her at what she thought was a vulnerable time. “That sounds really good, but could you excuse me for a minute?”

“Sure, I’ll be waiting. Would you like another drink?”

Muriel shook her head, stood up, and grabbed her coat. Shelby was about to ask why when the attorney started walking to the bar without another word. Shelby pivoted in her seat to see where she was going. The bartender leaned over the counter and offered Muriel her hand in a greeting that spoke of an old friendship, then nodded as Muriel whispered in her ear. Shelby followed Muriel’s finger as it pointed first to the table they had been sharing and then to another table not far from where she was standing at the bar. From her pocket, a roll of bills emerged, and Muriel put quite a few in the woman’s hand. After that she saluted first Shelby, then Lionel and Joe, before walking out.

Wood-paneled elevator doors slid closed before Shelby could catch up with Muriel and explain she didn’t know her fellow workers were going to be there. Any hope of building trust between them was plummeting as quickly as the elevator heading for the first floor, and she was furious. She loved her job, but there had to be more to life than the part that belonged to the government.

“What in the hell are you guys doing here?” She stood next to them with her hands on her hips, a clear sign she wasn’t happy. “I don’t appreciate being spied on.”

“Come on, Shelby. It’s what you do for a living,” Joe said, trying to sound funny so she’d come off the ledge. “We just wanted to make sure you were all right with all that’s happening. I’d be sick if you got caught in the cross fire, and I wasn’t here to do anything about it.”

“Did it occur to you two idiots that this had nothing to do with work? She lost two young associates today because some psycho who’s out to get her cousin decided to blow up her office. I just wanted to help her get over that.”

“We’re sorry, but there’s another reason for our being here,” Lionel said. Before he could say anything else, the bartender Muriel had talked to before leaving came up and set a tray on the table.

“How are y’all doing tonight?” The woman had a pleasant smile, and Shelby found herself returning it. “Muriel asked me to set you up with the next round before she took off. She picked them out, so if you want something else, let me know.”

Shelby picked up the glass. “What is it?”

“We usually call it a buttery nipple.”

“Usually?” Joe asked.

“Tonight, with the size of her tip, she renamed it. Enjoy your ‘it’s as close as you’re ever going to get.’ Or should I make that plural?”

“Oh, yeah, they’re related,” Shelby whispered when she thought of Cain. And as had happened with Cain, Shelby was afraid there would never be anything between her and Muriel either, no matter how much attraction they shared.

The gulf between them was too wide.