"He's definitely in the city, no question about it," Zane told his cousin as soon as Rex answered the phone. "The track we put on his email finally came up with some action from him. He was at the Public Library on Loyola about forty-five minutes ago." He listened for a moment, nodding, then said, "I doubt going there would do any good. He signed on, and then off again fifteen minutes later. He's long gone from there now, unless he's a total idiot. What was interesting was the email he sent. He wanted to know why Williams was still searching for him. Personally it sounded as if he had no clue it was more than just because he'd ditched the wedding."
"Yeah," he replied a minute later. "He got his answer. From what the respondents said, Williams claims our boy took off with a sizable fortune."
Leaning back in his chair he listened as his cousin expounded on that fact. "I agree," he said finally. "It would be interesting to know who discovered the loss, Williams or one of his people. As well as when it actually happened. With our boy running like he did, someone might have seen it as an opportunity to put the blame on him for the theft, whether they'd committed it earlier or it was a spur of the moment thing."
They talked for a few minutes more, discussing options, before hanging up. Standing, Zane stretched as he decided he wasn't ready to head to bed. In fact, quite the opposite, he was wired and needing to do something to unwind. He knew just what would accomplish that. Heading to the bedroom, he switched out shirts, trading the plain cotton button-down for a soft one in deep rust, and a black vest. After patting his jeans' pockets to make certain he had wallet and keys, he took off, heading down to Bourbon and his favorite club.
He could hear the music from half a block away, even over what was coming from the bar he was passing. The entrances, one on Bourbon, the other on the side street, were packed with people. Mostly tourists who weren't certain they dared enter but wanted to see what was going on inside. He eased his way through them into the club, waving to a couple of friends as he made his way to the bar.
"Zane, baby, long time, no see," the bare-chested bartender shouted over the noise of the band and the customers. "The usual?"
Zane nodded as he squeezed in next to a couple who seemed oblivious to anything but exploring each other's tonsils. While he waited for his beer he scanned the crowd, looking for anyone he knew besides the two he'd seen coming in. Or for someone interesting enough he might like to get to know them.
The bartender tapped his shoulder to let him know his drink was there. After paying, Zane picked it up and headed towards the stairs leading to the second level and the dance floor. When he got there, he leaned against the railing, comparing the various dancers, some of whom were very good, others who were definitely energetic if nothing else.
One in particular caught his eye. Lean and supple, dressed all in black, he moved gracefully, his blonde hair glowing under the lights. When the song ended, Zane was almost relieved to see the man say something to his dance companion then move to the side of the floor—alone.