The Cabbie and the Cop – 16

Simeon read the story in the newspaper as he drank his breakfast. He had the distinct feeling Vergil had somehow been involved in closing down the prostitution ring since the story said the men who’d been forced into it were all homeless and had been recruited thorough a day labor place.

No wonder you wanted me to ignore you the other morning. So what will you be the next time we happen to run into each other? A drug dealer, or maybe a gunrunner? Of course that presupposes we will see each other again.

Shrugging, knowing it was highly unlikely, Simeon finished his meal, tossed the empty bag and went to get dressed. He was off today and decided it was time to have some fun for a change. And the best place to do that was at a local jazz club he sometimes frequented.

With that thought in mind he went upstairs to get dressed. He doubted they’d let him in the way he was at the moment, totally naked. A few minutes later he studied his image in the full-length mirror on one wall of his bathroom. He was wearing black slacks and a dark red shirt that, in his opinion, suited him quite well as it set off his raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes. Not that it really mattered; he was going for the music and nothing more. If he had wanted more there were other clubs for that.

Gathering up his keys and wallet, he headed out to the garage and was soon driving his Ferrari into the heart of the city. When he got to the club he smiled at the awed and then disappointed look on the parking valet’s face as he tossed him the keys to the car and told him not to go joy-riding.

As always the club was packed with jazz aficionados, some at the bar but most at the tables surrounding the stage. The band was one of Simeon’s favorite local groups with a fellow who played a sax so mellow it could make a grown man weep.

He stopped at the bar to order a glass of dry red wine. While he waited for it, he searched for an empty table, spotting one at the back of the room which, hopefully, would still be available when he got to it. Luck was with him and he snagged it, sat and began contentedly listening to the music while slowly sipping his wine.

“How cliché. Red and black, Vampire?” a voice whispered in his ear as hands gripped his shoulders.

Simeon smiled, turning his head to look up at Vergil. “And just what brings you here, elf?” he replied just a softly.

Without asking permission Vergil pulled out the other chair at the table, spinning it around to sit with his arms crossed over the back. He took a long pull on his beer before answering Simeon’s question. “Good jazz and now good company.”

“You’re presuming I am good company.”

“True, but compared…” He shook his head, taking another drink of beer.

“You were the one who took down the prostitution ring.”

Vergil shrugged. “I helped.”

“False modesty, Vergil?” When Vergil ignored his comment Simeon studied his profile. “How bad was it?”

Again Vergil shrugged as he stared at the band.

“Not to sound like a psychiatrist but…”

“Then don’t,” Vergil spat out, rounding on him. “I’ve already had enough of that from the department’s shrink.”