The Devil's Beat (The Devil's Mark) Read online

  “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, what am I going to do? It's really him! Ohmygod!”

  Jayne Ann's surly voice muttered something too low for Max to catch.

  The other girl said, “Are you kidding! I would die for him! Ohmygod! I just slammed the door in his face! WhatamIgoingtodo?

  Another mutter from Jayne Ann and the older girl said, “You're right, you're right. How do I look?” A snort of disgust and a second later the door opened again. The girl's attempt at control broke almost immediately upon seeing Max. She nearly squealed when she said, “Oh, Max! I love you so much! Can I have your autograph?”

  Despite his worry over Alice, Max smiled automatically. Years of adoring fans had conditioned him. He said, “Of course, but first, can you tell me if Alice is here?”

  At this, Jayne Ann muscled under the arm the older girl was holding onto the door with for support. Her lips were raised in anger as she pushed through, knocking the other girl away, and closed the distance to Max. In spite of himself, Max took a half step back from the girl's fury.

  “She left with you! What did you do to my mom, you pig!”

  Max went on the defensive. “I, uh, I didn't do anything. She left early because she wasn't feeling well.”

  “Yeah right! What did you do to her? Did you scare her?”

  Max was taken aback by the little fury in front of him. “No.”

  “You did something to make her mad, didn't you?”

  “No, I didn't.” He hesitated. “She left without saying anything after she went to the bathroom. It's the truth!”

  Jayne Ann's fury became a little less focused on Max, but instead of letting up, she said, “Well, why didn't you follow her?”

  Max's eyebrows went up. “To the bathroom?”

  “No, you jerk, when she left!”

  Max had had enough. He yelled back, “Because she didn't tell me she was leaving! Now tell me if she's here!”

  “She's not here.”

  “Do you know where she might go? Do you know where I might look for her?”

  She snarled at him. “No, don't bother. You won't find her. She'll be back tomorrow morning.”

  “But, I can't just...”

  “Just go home!” She slammed the door on his reply. For several moments, Max just stood there in slack-jawed in confusion.

  Behind the door, he heard an unhappy whine, “I can't believe you called Maximilian Faust a jerk! I didn't get my autograph!”

  This time, Jayne Ann's voice was clearly audible. “Who cares? He's just an old fraud anyway.”

  Once again, this sentiment hit home hard. Max couldn't bring himself to knock again. He turned around and left. On his way back to the Dixie, he briefly considered going to the hospital to check on Mike, but just headed back to his motel room. He told himself it was too late for a hospital visit anyway. When he got to his room, he threw himself onto the broken bed, still lying on the floor, and brooded.

  Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea. Instead of finding a place to live in peace and quiet, he'd had nothing but fear, loathing, and uncertainty. He couldn't decide what was worse, but when you added up the crap surrounding Alice, Lucian, Big Al, Chief Wayne, Old Bone, Josh, and Mike you came up with an overwhelming pile of shit. Unfortunately, Max had no idea where else he would go.

  The Morning After

  The next morning, around eight, Max found himself back in front of Alice's place. He had been up since four a. m. after only getting a few hours of sleep. He had been driven to distraction by his helplessness, but now the waiting was done, and he found himself hesitating at the door. He really didn't want to face Jayne Ann's anger and spite again, but he had to know if Alice was okay.

  He knocked lightly at the door, waited for minute, and when no one answered, knocked a little harder. When the door finally opened, he let out the breath he had been holding when he saw it was Lily, Alice's youngest. He smiled in relief. “Hi Lily, is your mother home?”

  She nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

  She didn't elaborate, just stood there waiting for the next question.

  “Uh, can I see her?”

  She shook her head. “No, she's asleep.”

  Max was both relieved and disappointed. He said, “Is she all right?”

  Lily bit her lower lip and said in her small voice, “I'm not supposed to talk about it.”

  “Talk about what?”

  Lily tried to close the door in Max's face, but he stopped it before it shut all the way.

  “Lily, wait!”

  She opened the door again, looked up at Max, and waited.

  Max searched for something to say. “Lily, would you tell your mother I came by and ask her to call me?”

  Lily nodded her head, and this time said “Goodbye,” before she closed the door.

  Max was frustrated. He didn't know if it was him or the girls, but they were so hard to talk to! He turned and headed back to his car. A wave of weariness swept through him, but he forced himself to go check on Mike before returning to his room for more sleep.

  Max drove the short distance to the hospital and headed in to see Mike.

  From his hospital bed, Mike waved an x-ray at Max as soon as Max entered the room. “Look what that damn house did to my leg!”

  Max was too tired and grumpy to come up with a witty response. He said, “Hi, Mike.” He walked to the bed and grabbed the x-ray from Mike. Even with his non-medical eyes, he could see several fractures running through the bone above Mike's ankle. One piece even seemed to have separated from the rest of the bone a bit. He winced. “Sorry, bud. Next time don't talk about bulldozing the house where she can hear you.”

  “Next time?” Mike snorted, “There ain't going to be a next time, pal. I'm not going back to that house without fifty gallons of gas and a match!”

  Max nodded gloomily. He supposed it wasn't surprising. He wasn't sure he wanted to go back out to the house either. It seemed easier just to pack up and find another town.

  The dark hollows under Max's eyes added to the sad aura that seemed to cling to him like bad gas. Mike asked, “Are you okay Max? You looked terrible.”

  “Hard night. I just stopped by to see you were all right. I'm going to go back to the motel and sleep.”

  “You look like you need it. Get some for me too, this damn leg is killing me—, and keeping me awake.”

  Max nodded, accepting this burden as well. “Okay, talk to you later.”

  “Bring me a beer when you come back.”

  After a long night of questionable rest, it was mid afternoon by the time Max headed back to Alice's place. No one had answered her phone, but he felt a burning need to know what Lucian had done to her and discover if she was all right. He walked up through the empty front yard and knocked on the door. No one answered. He knocked harder, and when no one answered, he went around back. The entire house seemed to be locked up with the curtains drawn. No one was home. An unnameable fear for her and the girls rose within him.

  The phone rang in his pocket. He snapped it out of his pocket in the hopes that it was Alice. He answered anxiously “Hello?”

  A boisterous voice with a clear New Jersey accent blared out at him. “Max! This is Tony. We need ta talk, buddy.” Max was tempted just to hang up. He was in no mood to speak with someone who was looking more and more weaselly every day. He considered it for a moment and then decided that he really needed to confront the guy.

  Tony took advantage of the pause. “Max, what's this about selling Abaddon? Why would you want to do that?”

  “Tony, they're frigging arms dealers! There is no way I want to own a piece of that.”

  “Max, these guys are patriots. They are a huge defense contractor for the good ol' US of A. There is nothing wrong with that. Yeah, they sell weapons and things, but they also build schools and rebuild bombed out neighborhoods. They help people all over the world fighting for their freedom. You don't want to sell that.”

  “Tony, that's a line of hooey. Sell it.”
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br />   “Max, I'm looking out for your own good here. Trust me, you don't want to sell Abaddon. You've been earning 18% dividends per year! It would be a crime not to take advantage of this. This is for your own good Max, trust me.”

  “That's the problem Tony, I don't trust you.”

  “You’re killing me, Max. I've never done anything but the best by you. Is that why you sicced those investigators on me?”

  Oops. Max had never suspected Tony might find out. “How did you find out?”

  “Hey, it's my business to know things, Max, and let me tell you I am hurt to my core that you would turn your dogs on me. But I tell you what, I am a magnanimous guy. I'm gonna just forgedaboutit and get back to work.”

  Sheesh. “Well, if you want to keep working with me, sell Abaddon.”

  “All right, all right. I'll sell it after the quarterlies come out. We're gonna make a bundle from that.”

  “No, sell it now.”

  “What's that?”

  “Sell it now!”

  “Come ag... Ma … Yer... up.” beep.

  Max scowled at the phone. What an asshole. Max decided right then and there that he was done being kicked around. He was done being the victim. It was time to take control of his life. He wasn't going to back down any more, and if people couldn't deal with it, then...

  The phone rang again in his hands. Maybe Tony really did lose the signal and was calling back Max back.

  “Hello Max!” The happy sing-song voice was obviously not Tony.

  “Uh, hi?”

  “This is Eunice, Big Al's wife? Remember we met at the party?”

  “Yes, of course I remember you, Eunice.”

  “Listen, I just wanted to call you and tell you how much it means to us that you are going to perform for Big Al's fundraiser! You are a wonderful man and we are so excited that we...”

  She gushed for another five minutes. Each minute that passed, Max felt lower and lower about backing out on this bubbly, childlike, woman. In the end, when Eunice set a date for them to meet in two weeks, Max agreed. After he hung up, he stared at his phone. He felt trapped and was afraid of the anxiety, which bubbled up in him over the idea of performing again. What about standing up for yourself, Max? You are such a fricking wimp! Take control of your life.

  He picked up the phone and called Eunice back.

  In Your Eyes

  A week later, Max was back at the mansion working with Mike and Josh. He tried not to think too much about anything. That just lead to questions, which lead to introspection, which lead to disgust over hanging up before he talked to Eunice, or fear for Alice and her family's safety.

  He'd called back his private detective agency and hired them to find her, but couldn't think of anything else he could do. So far, they'd found nothing.

  He discovered that concentrating on nothing but the restoration of Belle helped with the whole thinking thing.

  Mike had been understandably reluctant to return to the mansion till Max had doubled his salary yet again. For Max, money had become something of a joke. When your liquid cash reserves were approaching a billion dollars, what did a few tens of millions matter? The house continued to drop things on Mike or occasionally tried to trip him up but didn't seriously try to murder Mike again. None the less, Mike had taken to wearing a hardhat, steel-toed boots, a heavy leather vest, and gloves at all times, which did nothing to lighten his mood in the sweltering summer heat. Max frequently heard him murmuring, “Twenty million dollars, twenty-million dollars...”

  The two men spent most of the week in Mike's hospital room planning out the restoration. Mike wanted to gut the house. Take it down to its skeleton and then build it back with modern materials, electricity, and plumbing. Max wanted to take a more gentle approach and use fewer people and less draconian methods. He wanted to restore the mansion, not rebuild it. He'd abandoned the idea of doing it all himself, but he still wanted to feel like he was doing a significant part of the work.

  Mike had reluctantly agreed, but he told Max that they would have to find a company that specialized in restoration work. It wasn't something Mike had any real experience with. Max hesitated on making that decision, and in the meantime, he decided that they would work on the music room first, so that Old Bone had a nice place to rest. Mike tried to point out the folly of this approach. Finishing one room ahead of time would just cause more work trying to avoid damaging it, but Max had his mind set. Without options, Mike finally threw up his hands and just said, “Yes, sir.”

  Feeling smug and relieved, Max said, “Okay then, lets go.”

  They hopped in the truck and headed back to the house.

  They walked through the front door and looked over several of the wall panels that had been placed on the floor and carefully refinished. The man responsible for the beautiful work lay motionless on the floor underneath a ladder.

  Max looked at Josh's stiff, still form. “How many days did he make it this time?”

  Mike searched the ceiling in recollection, counting under his breath and then said, “I think he's been at it for four days without stop. That's a new record for him.”

  Max stuck out his lower lip and nodded thoughtfully. He grunted, “hmmm,” and then walked over to Josh's still form. “Okay, you grab his legs, I've got his shoulders.” Mike looked pointedly at Max, then at his crutches. Max sighed. “Fine, I'll do it.” He picked up Josh's emaciated, featherweight body, carried him to a corner out of the way, and set him down gently on the floor.

  Max stood up. “You know, I asked Doc if he had ever heard of anything that would make a person stiffen up like this, and the only thing he could come up with was rigor-mortis.”

  Mike shrugged. “Well, he's still breathing, and I suppose it isn't any weirder than anything else in this death trap.”

  Immediately after saying that, Mike took a large step to the side as a chunk of plaster fell from the roof and smacked the floor where he had been standing.

  He shook his fist in the air triumphantly. “Ha! You missed, you miserable termite-ridden pile of rotten wood!” He took another step to the side, but nothing happened this time.

  Max shook his head. “Mike, I don't think you should antagonize Belle like that.”

  Mike snorted. “Sometimes you just have to let them know you're not afraid of them.” As he finished, another, larger, piece of plaster fell and shattered upon his work helmet.

  Mike scowled at the ceiling again but didn't say anything this time. He headed for the tools they kept stashed in the music room. When he entered, he called out a good morning to Old Bone who was sitting in his accustomed place on the table, watching television. Old Bone clacked his teeth in acknowledgment and Mike headed to the back of the room. Watching this, Max shook his head. It was amazing the things you could get used to. He regarded Old Bone thoughtfully. The head definitely seemed to be regenerating. It was so slow that you wouldn't notice it unless you were looking, but a couple of weeks back, Old Bone hadn't had any muscles which could move his jaws. He shook off the thought as Mike called for his help.

  While the two of them were busy laying down the rest of the new sub-flooring in the music room, Max said, “Oh, hey, I forgot to tell you. My forensic accountants are going to pull the plug on Tony today.”

  Mike didn't look up, but he said, “I don't know Max, are you sure you want to do that? Seems unreasonably dangerous to me.”

  Max put a few nails into the flooring with the nail gun. Phut! phut! phut! and he was done. He was a huge fan of the nail gun. It was incredibly fast, saved a lot of wear and tear on his fingers, and was pretty accident proof.

  Max said, “I don't care. I don't want to work with anyone who thinks that investing in one of the world's biggest weapons dealers is a good idea—growth industry or not. Did I tell you that I looked up what Abaddon meant?”

  “Nope,” grunted Mike, fitting the next sheet into place.

  “It means 'the destroyer.’ It's one of the names of the Devil, for crying out loud.”
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  Mike grunted. “Sounds appropriate. What about Megabucks or Lux Lucy? Any idea what they do yet?”

  “Well Megabucks isn't too bad. It's mainly a money lender. They offer those payday loans?”

  Mike stopped and looked at Max with eyes raised in disbelief. “Not too bad? Jesus Max, get a clue! Those guys are sharks. They are the worst sort of predators. Their interest rates can be more than one hundred percent!”

  “What? That's not possible Mike. They can't expect to get back that kind of return!”

  “But they do, Max. They hide it by saying that the interest rates are like 10%, but that is per week. They’re scum! One of those moved into town a few years back. They’re just bad news.”

  “Oh. Well. I guess I'll have to sell that stock as well.”

  “It would be better if you could just shut them down.”

  That was an intriguing thought. What if he could shut them down? He'd have to ask his gorilla accountants that were currently wrenching control from Tony.

  “What about Lex Lucy?”

  “It's Lex Lucidis, and I have no idea what they do yet. I've got a national detective agency collecting data for me on them. I'm sure it will be something unsavory as well.”

  “Sounds like a good thing you're taking your money back from Tony. So what do you think he's going to do when you tell him he's fired?”

  “I don't know, and I don't care.” Phut! phut! phut!

  “I still think you should be careful, Max. I've got a bad feeling that this guy's unsavory connections don't just end with the companies he invests in. He'll try to get back at you.”

  Max waived his arms in annoyance. “I don't give a damn!” phut! phut! Two nails flew out of the gun in Max's hand and passed to either side of Mike's head, missing him by inches.

  Simultaneously, Mike ducked and swore, and Max dropped the gun in fear. The gun landed on the floor. Phut! phut! Two more nails shot out towards Mike. One ricocheted off the steel toe of his boot, and the other one was driven halfway into its sole.

  “Holy fuck, Max! Stop it! You could put someone's eye out that way!” He jumped out of the path of the business end of the nailer.