Chapter 71

The thing with Lucas was on my mind all afternoon Sunday. Even so, I did as much research on Davenport as I could manage on my own. I knew that Lucas had become very important to the business, as it had evolved. If Lucas decided to go, I would probably be looking for a new Lucas. I also knew that I could not back down. Lucas either worked for me, or Gwen and Mike. For me it was that simple. Sometimes in the heat of the moment, I had to make a decision right or wrong. I had neither the time not the inclination to explain my reasons to Lucas or anyone else. I often made the wrong decision and I had to live with that, but there are times you just have to do something, even if it is the wrong thing.

I knew that I had been right in what I said to Lucas. I was just sorry that it came to that. Of course Lucas was like a teenager. He had gotten more confident in his abilities, so he had begun searching for his own identity. It's why parents of teenage kids age faster than parents of younger or older children.

I shook it off while sitting at my makeshift desk trying to find a handle on Davenport. I had said something to Lucas about using Marty's resources to at least threaten Davenport. Maybe it was time to listen to myself.

I speed dialed Jen on the cell phone. Of course it went to voice mail. It was the weekend. Jen most likely was playing around with Reverend Archer, or Bob, or both. "Jen I need your help with the Julie thing. Call me when you get a chance."

Just as I put the phone down I heard a high pitch screech from the front yard of my cabin. I also heard the sound of the trash can going over. Before I ran into a pissed off raccoon, I decided to check the front of the cabin with the surveillance camera.

What I saw was a ball of fur rummaging through my trash. It was the wrong color and marking for a raccoon. Since the cameras were black and white. I wasn't sure of the color, but I was damn sure the it was a cat. I couldn't tell if it were a house cat or a feral cat. It was for sure a cat though.

I had no desire to have my eyes scratched out by either, so I racked a shell into the Mossberg 12 gauge riot shotgun. The Mossberg was the one I kept at home. The antique Winchester riot gun stayed in the safe room of the office, most of the time.

I opened the front door with the shotgun pointed at the ground, not anywhere near the cat. I could bring it up quickly, if need be. I didn't want to shoot a starving cat by accident. I got my first good look at the cat and knew for sure that it was no cute cuddly kitten. Even from ten feet away I could see scars. One of his eyes was closed as well. Even I could see that he was reduced to raiding my trash only because he was dragging one leg. He didn't seem to have any open wounds, but the leg, though not useless, was definitely not a 100%.

I spoke in a soft voice, since he hadn't run away. "You have seen your share of combat haven't you boy. You might not have always won, but they sure as hell knew you were there." Since he sat in the pile of garbage eating on a left over Subway sandwich, I decided to see what I could do. "If you don't run away, I can probably do a little better than my trash can restaurant's menu."

I returned to the inside of the cabin and rummaged aground. I found a can of corned beef hash. Once upon a time I had planned to have it for breakfast. Since I never got around to it, the stray cat might enjoy it, I thought. I knew that if I fed him, he might own me. It was a calculated risk,

The beat up old guy was still in the trash when I returned with the small bowl of hash. I set it on the stoop's edge, then went inside to watch on the hidden camera. The poor beat up thing dragged his injured leg behind as he made it onto the stoop. I took a good look at the leg since it was the only wound that didn't appear to be healed. The cat stood on it to eat, so I had to assume that it wasn't totally paralyzed. It might even get better on its own, I thought. I knew there was no way in hell that I could capture him, so he was on his own. I knew for sure as long as he was eating and craping, I would not shoot him.

"God I wish you could talk. I would love to know what all you have been into." After he finished the hash, he wandered through the garbage again. Just to be sure he hadn't missed anything good, then he hopped away on his three good legs. I decided that his three colors qualified him as a calico.

I returned to my search of all things related to Davenport. After fifteen minutes of Davenport on the net, I heard the theme from the movie The Magnificent Seven. It was obviously coming from my cell phone. "Damn it, I wanted the phone to just ring," I said aloud to no one.

"Hello Jen," I said after the caller ID let me know that it was her.

"Max, what do you need now?" she snapped at me.

"Hey bitch, take it easy on me, I'm having a bad weekend, so you know. You got me into this crap with Marty and his film crew. It's all their fault."

"I didn't get you into the Julie thing, you slut. Jack came to you, not to me. You sent him over to me, remember?" she said with mock severity.

"Only so that I could get paid. Look, I need to know does Marty has any pull with the Tryon city government?"

"Marty has pull with every government in the state." she said.

"So if we need the inspections department to do their job, they would?"

"You mean to inspect the property of the Family Mission?" she asked.

"I see you have been talking to Archer. Yeah, I'm going to have a sit down with Davenport, I want to know how much juice I have."

"I can get his property inspected and be damn sure the inspection department does it right, no matter who he has bribed," she said. "You still have friends with the police there. Why not use them to go at him for the minor thing. I would bet Julie isn't the only underage runaway."

"To be honest, if the kids aren't being abused, they are better off there than turning tricks. I just want Julie out of there. I don't necessarily want the place shut down. I don't mind crippling his operation, but I don't really want him in jail just yet. That might change as we go along."

"Just let me know, when you are ready to make a move." She paused a moment then added. "You know screwing around with you is the only fun thing I ever do."

"Bullshit," I replied.

"Okay, the only fun thing I do out of bed. I have got to take up golf or something." she said hanging up on me.

Since I was bored already, and since it appeared that I might need cat food, I checked on the web about cats and pain. Chances of me ever getting the cat to a vet were pretty remote. If he was in pain, I would like to help. Otherwise he was pretty much going to be on his own. After a quick Google I added baby aspirin to my shopping list.