People seemed to think the speak ran itself on little more than luck and freeflowing liquor. Let them think that if they cared to. Let them laugh at the raids; he'd rather have the police considered slow and inept at their jobs than to reveal how many hands he had on the inside or how many eyes were always watching on his behalf. One of his girls slipped in at his side just as he finished his whiskey, putting another in its place; her dress was shimmering blue, fringe tangling around her legs as she bent close to him to whisper about a man downstairs asking questions about the murders.
He inhaled the scent of tobacco and perfume from her skin, lifting his cigarette to his mouth. She played with his tie, her weight leaned against his shoulder, making a show of flirtation while she murmured in his ear that he was a few paces left of the bar, that he wasn't drinking, that he stood opposite a gambler with one too many bourbons in him, with a clear view of the balcony. That he wanted stories out of the men and women who'd been there when the body was found. Leon glanced down at him once as he dragged tobacco into his lungs, irritated by the presence of a new problem in his club. He could be anyone. An agent, a cop, a reporter. A detective hired by the girl's family. A nuisance.
He turned his head to his girl as though brushing her lips with a kiss. "Get some men and bring him upstairs. Politely," he added, in case he was law enforcement after all.
The more he listened to the man speak, the more unsure he was of what the hell was meant to have gone on. There was too much inebriated rambling that made him feel as if the man didn't know anything at all. Glancing past him, Matt caught the bartender watching him, a bare glance, but he broke off from the other conversation to move toward the bar again. It was there that Leon's men closed in and asked him to come upstairs. His eyes slid away and scanned through the room again, knowing that the man he'd come with would see this if he was still in the room. He caught him in one of the glances around the cigarette smoke filled room and wondered if he should resist. Another look at the men's faces made him decide against it and he fingered the gun he carried while he walked with them out of the room, as if making sure it was still there.
It was too loud for questions as they moved through the crowd and the superficial laughter continued to bleed into the music and back, ignoring the fact that someone had died here just one day ago, or even the fact that the liquor most were consuming was bought from the mob and that they were as good as promoting the criminals they pretended to abhor in the morning. Maybe if it hadn't been his job, he might not have cared either but it was, and in his own way, he did. Walking up the stairs to where Leon was waiting, he glanced around the area and at the men left by the door before approaching.
"Your people wouldn't say what this is about," he said, coming in close enough to put out his cigarette on the ashtray the other man was using. "Actually, they don't say much of anything." And he didn't think they were all bought. Some must have actually been loyal. And smart. He thought he'd been careful with the questions he'd asked.
The men downstairs caught him, words exchanged for a moment or two before he turned with them and moved towards the stairs. Leon watched it all and was at least pleased that there hadn't been any scene about it, that his men hadn't needed to lay hands on him. It was always a smart idea to preserve courtesies for as long as they could be preserved. And then sometimes the time for courtesies was over, and someone's blood needed to be spilled--still, it needn't always reach that boiling point.
Killing cops wasn't an option, if that was what this man was. There were too many of them whose cooperation he counted on. Bribes came on time, cops were treated right, and everything was well between him and the city's finest.
He looked at the man they brought to him, letting him wait and sweat a little while he studied him. Tapping out his own cigarette after the stranger used his ashtray, he made a mental note to find out everything he could about him, his name, his family, his badge number if he had one, what was important to him. Whether or not his silence could be bought. His hand went into his inner jacket pocket and brought out a case of cigarettes. He put one between his lips, and one of the passing servers picked up his lighter for him, flipping it open and holding the flame to the tip until it flared and smoked.
"I was raised to believe it's not polite to look around a man's home without introducing myself to my host." The woman waited with the lighter as he offered the cigarettes in an open palm. "Is there something I can help you with?"
There was a long look at the scene below after Leon spoke. The idea behind the words was absurd the more he took in of the room. There was no hidden conspiracy in the crowd, they attempted at a pointless air of exaggerated sophistication instead with their pretty dresses and suits. He wouldn't be surprised if several of the men downstairs were part of the organization that should have been prosecuting the place. A scuffle started by one of the gambling tables and Matt looked back at the offered cigarettes, taking one and lifting it to his mouth before leaning toward the woman as if to offer her the chance to light it. "That's an unsual reference to a place like this. I'm not seeing anything that resembles a home here." The Amendment the government was attempting to enforce had a particular image of a home that didn't include drunkards or gamblers.
He took a step back, pulling the cigarette back out of his mouth and the vantage point of the balcony didn't give him more than he'd been able to conclude while downstairs. "But since you're offering, you could tell me about the girl who died last night." The fact that he would have found his way to Leon eventually didn't change the fact that he hadn't meant to be here yet and he didn't sit down, preferring to smoke on his feet. There was something too self assured about Leon that he didn't like, as if the man thought he had the price tag on everyone around him. Why this would bother him today wasn't easy to figure out.
The cigarette case clicked as he shut it. The server's heels tapped against the hardwood floor as she walked away, and Leon leaned back in his chair, sliding the case into his hidden pocket again. He glanced down at the beginnings of a fistfight at one of the tables, but his men were already stepping in, dragging the two brawlers apart. Satisfied that the situation was under control, he looked again at the man before him. "This is my home." His voice was low but there was an intensity to it he couldn't disguise. He looked at the man like he wanted to bore holes through him, open up his skull to see what was inside. The words were literal, almost; he had a house on the shore, he had a valet and a driver and a woman who came by and tended things and occasionally cooked meals, but they rarely caught a glimpse of him. Most nights he slept in his office, falling asleep to muffled music and laughter. The air of the speak was poison and tobacco; he lived and breathed it.
"When you enter my home it's by my hospitality," he went on, still quietly. "And if I care to retract it I will." Smoke made a haze between the two of them. He was still studying the man through it, watching him stay on his feet as though to avoid corruption. Leon lifted his cigarette to his mouth, chased the breath of smoke with a shot of whiskey. He might have denied the murder if it hadn't spread all over town by now. "Who are you? What's your interest in her?"
Living by an alias didn't make it easier to give up his identity. And maybe part of it was caution but giving any of himself away also felt like losing to this man and he didn't plan to. Not while Leon was dissecting him in a stare and sending the intensity of his voice racing through Matt's veins with the nicotine he'd sucked in. Maybe he'd been mistaken in his ability to gather information behind the scenes in a place as careful kept as this, when it'd been hard enough to find his way inside, but he didn't like to admit to missteps. He couldn't have been the only person asking questions, not in a city like this, but it didn't change the fact that it was him standing under Leon's scrutiny.
"The more cooperative you can make your staff to my questions, the sooner I can leave your hospitality," he noted, making it obvious what he was, even if he didn't state it. Just like he left the implication that he didn't plan on leaving until he'd gotten what he came for, no matter how ludicrous it might be in a place like this. Taking a backward step felt like it would lead to being sent straight back into the streets without reentry so he stepped forward instead, resting his hand against the table while leaning close. "My interest is similar to yours, I'm looking for the person who killed her." There were things about this man's actions that weren't quite on the reports, more spoken word, but none of them pointed to him as the murderer in this. There hadn't been enough on Leon himself but could tell the kind of man he was by standing close to him now.
It made sense to think of the cops he'd met this morning and imagine them in Leon's pay, either by force or not. He could imagine this man digging up everything about a person and turning it against them but he also knew there were government men with a critical eye in this direction and that not as many of the agents were as easily corrupted.
The words made it clear enough what he was, as he must have intended. Leon filed away the information, still looking him over in long pauses between speaking as though he could find out everything about him--his name, his precinct, whether he had a family, what was important to him--with only his eyes, only his gaze digging deep enough. At least he knew now how delicately to treat him. This wasn't a problem that could be taken care of with a bullet in a dark alley or a knife to the gut.
"Where were you yesterday?" he demanded pointedly. His mug of whiskey clicked against the table as he set it down. Leon got to his feet, cigarette in hand, stepping closer to the balcony rail and the man standing beside it as though to corner him there. "There were plenty of you boys asking questions. The city's finest, all turned out for one poor girl." As if it was her they cared about, as if every room they'd searched had been for evidence of a murder and not for liquor. He dragged on his cigarette and turned his head to exhale the smoke. "I'd like to see your badge, you understand. Any man can pretend to be something he's not."
A lot of bank notes had exchanged hands to make sure the house stayed open tonight. He was sick of the presence of cops, their invasion of his home. He took another step closer. "After that I suggest you go back to your station and read some reports. You'll find all the information my staff had to give."
"Crimes don't solve themselves overnight," he pointed out, though he'd once known a detective who could do so. "Just because a bunch of questions were asked last night doesn't mean there aren't questions to ask today. I've read the reports and they're not good enough. The shock's worn off, I'm sure the people around here remember more now. And if they don't, I can come back and ask them again tomorrow."
The easy way Leon dismissed him didn't matter as long as he got his point across. He didn't miss it either, the way the murder seemed less important than the clues about the establishment. Well, the government wanted the prohibition taken seriously and Matt wanted to find out who was killing people off. For now at least, their interests were looking in the same direction. When he was pulled off the murder and motioned toward the liquor, he'd at least have another chance to keep looking between the lines. It was all involved anyway and while he didn't think Leon would do this, it didn't mean he didn't believe the stories of what this man was capable of in its place. How far he was willing to go to finish these scrap jobs was indeterminable, it was all a game to play against time in the end.
His hand went to the badge and he turned, meeting Leon's step toward him with one of his own. The badge was easier to press into the other man's hand this way while he smoked close to him, as if this was the last cigarette he intended to have and he needed to take it in deeply into him. "So I hope you don't mind I'm going to ignore your suggestion and intrude on your hospitality for a little longer."
Leon glanced down at the badge in his hand, finding the seal of the police department before anything else. He was aware of the man standing close as his eyes moved over his name and his badge number, committing both to memory. Smoke mingled between the two of them. His cigarette, Matt's cigarette. The band was playing the Charleston, heels and loafers striking against the wood floor downstairs, and beneath the racket he said, "My employees are working. You want to interview them, you'll come back during the day." His eyes met the other man's as he closed the fold over the badge and handed it back. "Until then, you can question me."
He leaned over to crush his cigarette out against the ash tray before he straightened again, smoothed hands over his suit lapels. "This way." His office was one of the many private rooms upstairs. Most of the others were bedrooms, private lounges. This wasn't a cathouse he was running, but if the entertainers wanted to take a man or two upstairs that was their business, as long as they remembered his cut of the tips, the gifts of jewels and money and influence. His office was locked against intrusions, the key an inconspicuous one among his collection, hung on a chain from the lapels of his suit as though it were a pocket watch. He led the way and didn't look back, arrogant enough to assume he would be followed without prompting.
Why not? This was his home, and no one knew more about it than he did. There was no better man to question.
He unlocked the door to his office, glancing back only then and standing aside to let the cop precede him inside. "Can I get you something to drink?" he inquired and it was a blatant taunt, but if the man had come here to raid him he would have done it already. Something else drove him, and Leon intended to find out what.
He could have demanded to be allowed to speak with whoever he wanted to, those employees Leon was so intent on keeping at work were working illegally after all, but the man's words made sense. He did need to speak with him and his own reluctance to follow was something he needed to eradicate soon. The key to this case could very well exist inside Leon's answers and piecing together what the man was willing to give him with the reports could save him days of worthless wrong turns. It just didn't make it feel less obnoxious to follow Leon's command like a lapdog. He walked slowly though, taking note of the building and the people moving behind the scenes until they reached Leon's door.
There was a hesitation to be trapped in the office with the man. It was illogical, he still had his gun and it wasn't like Leon meant to kill a cop in his own establishment but there was something grating about being closed in. He walked deeper into the room regardless, throwing a glance over his shoulder with the, "No." He stepped in the direction of the desk while looking at the office. "I don't drink anymore." It was to hypocritical, he thought, and his smoking vice seemed to make up enough for everything else. He was aware though that for every shipment the prohibitions destroyed in a raid, the city cops stored two more for their own use. It's what made enforcing the law so useless. "This place isn't going to last very long now. It's too obvious." Cops had already started crawling over here, it wouldn't take long enough for the feds to.
"That's my problem." Leon went to his liquor cabinet, unlocked it with another key. The bottle of whiskey he pulled out was one of the finest in the speak, a relic from the early years of prohibition, when funneling liquor into the city had been so much simpler. It was three-quarters empty and he reduced it by another two fingers, pouring it into an ordinary snifter; there was no point to hiding in here. The man before him could arrest him this very moment for it, but what would be the point? He'd be out by sunrise and in the meantime there would be no questions answered.
His office was sparse but elegant, the furniture and the moldings carved of the same red-tinted wood. By day, the broad windows looked out over the boardwalk and the ocean; by night they were just lights and the shimmering reflection of lights against dark water. He put an ashtray on the desk, along with his lighter and cigarette case, open. The desk creaked as he leaned against it, lifting the glass to his mouth.
He wondered about this man, now that he had him in his office. What his price was or what would silence him. "Let me ask you something." He'd promised an interview; that didn't mean he couldn't talk back. "Do you care about her at all? Or is it just the liquor?" There wasn't a single other cop who'd come back, as far as he knew. They'd all had enough of combing his establishment the night before, pretending to be investigating a murder while looking for evidence on which to arrest him and shut him down.
"Isn't it the same thing? She was killed because she works for you so in essence she was killed for the liquor. Most of the things that are going wrong in this city are tied to it and they'll continue to go wrong until the root problem is destroyed, so in the end, any case I take here is going to be about the liquor." He was avoiding answering the question directly, he knew this, but he didn't have an intention to be interrogated. He didn't care about the girl. It wasn't supposed to be about caring for her, really, it was just his obligation to see her killer behind bars. If he didn't, he lost something in this game, and he hated playing to lose.
His eyes didn't do more than skim over the furniture. The show of wealth and power weren't interesting enough to keep his attention when Leon seemed to fill up the entirety of the room with his presence. Everything else felt insignificant beside him and it was part of what made him so fucking dangerous. The fascination hooked in deep and they'd just barely met. Being in his company for longer felt like it would leave him obsessing, even if the obsession was to close him down. The cigarette he took between his fingers was an attempt to drive the filthiest of his thoughts away but there was something about the way the man sat on the desk that made his palms sweat and his mind spin attraction. He wondered if there was something in the air that was fucking with his mind but there couldn't have been and he wasn't as disturbed by the fact that Leon appealed to him as much as he was by the impulse to leave and forget everything he'd investigated tonight.
"But if I were after the liquor right now, I wouldn't be here with you, I'd be shutting you down." There was enough alcohol at the bar to excuse the raid but even then he wasn't sure his words were completely true. Leon's audacity in opening so soon after the murder showed more balls than the city's law enforcement had shown in fighting the corruption eating away at it from the inside. "Tell me about the girl."
"Why ask me? It sounds like you've decided already." He turned his head to stare moodily at his chair, remembering the sight of her left pale and lifeless with the gaping wound at her neck, a red mouth opened in the fair skin of her throat. "You don't need me to tell you what it's about." He wondered at his own reasons for bringing this man here, into his office. Why he'd thought he should. He turned back to watch him with his cigarette and at that moment it seemed as though there was nothing else in the room to look at. He wanted to stand as close to him as he had on the balcony and breathe in the familiar smell of nicotine from his clothes; he imagined telling Matt to come to him, wondered whether or not he would do it.
He finished the whiskey he'd been drinking and set the glass down on the deck with a hard click. "She was twenty years old. No family. She came from Philadelphia." There wasn't much of her life outside the club that he was familiar with. He found out what he needed to know. "She worked as an emcee. Everyone who came through here would have seen her." He'd already wondered at and discarded the possibility of a scorned lover, a crime of passion. Her murder had had nothing to do with her, really; the only purpose behind it was to hurt him.
He looked back at the man, meeting his eyes. "I don't believe you'd be able to shut me down if that was what you were here for. And I don't believe you'll be able to find out who killed her, either." He lit another cigarette with restless fingers, snapping closed the lighter. Staying still at his desk was driving him insane. He pushed away from it and came closer again and he didn't stop approaching when he should have, when propriety and society and all the rules of human interaction would have dictated. He kept moving and there was an urge to corner this man against the wall and trap him between his arms. "So why don't you just go? There's nothing you can do here. I'll take care of it myself."
"You won't be able to open tomorrow night if we tear this place apart looking for your liquor stash tonight," Matt told him, watching Leon approach caustically. "Sure, you'll probably recover but it'll take time to fix any damages." It was easy to let the way Leon closed in shiver through him. It felt too much like desire and it was ridiculous that he was letting that affect him now. It wasn't always a bad idea, to use sex for information, but it didn't work with people like Leon. "Even if we don't find anything, there's still enough booze downstairs to make it to a trial. You might end up winning but it'll still cost you." Bribing judges and juries didn't come cheaply, even if Leon turned around and sued for having the place torn into unlawfully. And considering how little he'd been able to find out about Leon as a man, Matt doubted he'd like being plastered in the papers for it.
They were too close but he didn't want to step back. Everything stunk of cigarette smoke and what Leon had been drinking, vice dragged under the skin to make it impossible to resist the desire to want him outside of words and implications.
But tensing, he didn't shut up. "You're not the law, you can't take what happens to the girl's murderer into your own hands." There was a chance that Leon didn't know anything either, that he was just as lost, but he still wanted to know everything the man could tell him. "If you tell me what you know, I won't have to come back." It would be other men, someone Leon already knew perhaps, had already bribed. But he didn't promise this because in reality it didn't quite work that easily and the heat of Leon's body close to his didn't make him want to leave. He reached out, gripping Leon's arm before decimating the last of the space between them with his mouth moving hard over the other man's.
There wasn't another touch but this, his fingers digging hard into Leon's upper arm, and the attempt to smother in a kiss until the moment where he remembered where he was and pulled back.
Matt had the measure of him accurately enough. He hated publicity, hated eyes on him and what he considered to be his private business and he would have endured a trial but loathed every moment of it, the spectacle and the circus ringmasters all competing against one another just to let him stay open for another night. But the man before him didn't seem to understand how small the chances were of it ever coming to that. He had the air of someone who didn't quite see the depths of corruption that existed all around him and Leon found himself viewing him almost compassionately for it in the moments before Matt stepped forward and kissed him.
He tasted the cigarettes from his mouth, the heat between them and everything about this was wrong but it was so fucking attractive. He caught the man's arms and drew him closer and pushed his tongue into his mouth at once, forcing the taste of smoke and whiskey on him, meeting the hardness of his kiss with that invasion and he wanted to clench fingers in the strands of his hair to hold him there until neither of them could breathe. Matt pulled back but Leon stepped forward and pushed him against the wall like he'd wanted to, cornering him there with the sheer force of his body, caging him in with his limbs. His fingers stroked along his jaw, gripped and angled it up and his mouth hovered close but he didn't kiss him again, not yet.
"You need to look closer at your own department. You're blind if you think there would ever be a trial." Men were so easily bought and paid for. Alcohol smuggling was the lifeblood of this city, its dark underbelly and it was helped along at every step by a police force dedicated to looking the other way when it counted. "Evidence disappears. Arrests vanish from the records and even raids don't mean much in the end when no one cares enough to make anything of them." His teeth closed on Matt's lower lip. He dragged it apart from the upper and ravaged his mouth briefly again. "If you want to find her murderer, help me, not your department. They're useless to you. You'd be better off with me."
The recklessness of suggesting that a cop change affiliations wasn't lost on him, but he had never been a man to shy away from risks. He held onto Matt like he never wanted to let go and the thought of making this man loyal to him seemed suddenly not just important but necessary.
He hadn't envisioned being pinned back to the wall like this but maybe he'd desired it without realizing it. He stayed in place for the moment at least, watching Leon intently. Everything the man said was true but if he wasn't willing to let himself be bribed by money, he knew there had to be another cop in this city who felt the same. Corruption didn't reach everyone and if there hadn't been men discontented with the way this filth continued to move through the streets, he wouldn't be here.
"There'll be a trial," he told Leon, gripping over his clothes as if to pull him closer. "There are people watching you and they want there to be one. It won't stop at one raid. If the evidence disappears overnight, we'll just break into your bar the next and destroy what we don't take." The second kiss felt as full of implications as the first had, leaving him with feelings that were only carnal and illogical. "Joining you to find the murderer wouldn't help me find the answer if you're the murderer."
Except he wanted to agree in order to continue feeling him close. The way Leon held him was too proprietary though and he pushed the man back, taking a step forward to follow closely after, one hand catching Leon's tie like he planned to strangle him with it. Instead he continued to crush his mouth against the man's, kissing him as if to drive his own words away. He licked the man's teeth, wanting to taste everything inside of him. The cigarette fell somewhere to the carpet and he reached to pull the man's belt open as if they weren't complete strangers.
It was silent around them, the sounds of revelry apparently not strong enough to reach this far. It didn't mean much. He was still armed and it kept him from feeling too trapped with this man. Lust went through him and he wanted a fuck out of this, no matter how wrong it was. It was easier to forgive his own indiscretions than it was to forgive other people. Even if Leon hadn't killed this woman, he knew the man had sent others to their deaths and he condemned him even while wanting him. Leon felt like something violently unpredictable against him and he wanted to take in the taste of him regardless because it was so fucking attractive.
"I'd rather take my chances with the department than with you," he continued, attempting to pull the man's pants open. "They might be all taking bribes from you but that still puts you at the top of the chain and it makes you less trustworthy than any of them."
He inhaled the scent of tobacco and perfume from her skin, lifting his cigarette to his mouth. She played with his tie, her weight leaned against his shoulder, making a show of flirtation while she murmured in his ear that he was a few paces left of the bar, that he wasn't drinking, that he stood opposite a gambler with one too many bourbons in him, with a clear view of the balcony. That he wanted stories out of the men and women who'd been there when the body was found. Leon glanced down at him once as he dragged tobacco into his lungs, irritated by the presence of a new problem in his club. He could be anyone. An agent, a cop, a reporter. A detective hired by the girl's family. A nuisance.
He turned his head to his girl as though brushing her lips with a kiss. "Get some men and bring him upstairs. Politely," he added, in case he was law enforcement after all.
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It was too loud for questions as they moved through the crowd and the superficial laughter continued to bleed into the music and back, ignoring the fact that someone had died here just one day ago, or even the fact that the liquor most were consuming was bought from the mob and that they were as good as promoting the criminals they pretended to abhor in the morning. Maybe if it hadn't been his job, he might not have cared either but it was, and in his own way, he did. Walking up the stairs to where Leon was waiting, he glanced around the area and at the men left by the door before approaching.
"Your people wouldn't say what this is about," he said, coming in close enough to put out his cigarette on the ashtray the other man was using. "Actually, they don't say much of anything." And he didn't think they were all bought. Some must have actually been loyal. And smart. He thought he'd been careful with the questions he'd asked.
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Killing cops wasn't an option, if that was what this man was. There were too many of them whose cooperation he counted on. Bribes came on time, cops were treated right, and everything was well between him and the city's finest.
He looked at the man they brought to him, letting him wait and sweat a little while he studied him. Tapping out his own cigarette after the stranger used his ashtray, he made a mental note to find out everything he could about him, his name, his family, his badge number if he had one, what was important to him. Whether or not his silence could be bought. His hand went into his inner jacket pocket and brought out a case of cigarettes. He put one between his lips, and one of the passing servers picked up his lighter for him, flipping it open and holding the flame to the tip until it flared and smoked.
"I was raised to believe it's not polite to look around a man's home without introducing myself to my host." The woman waited with the lighter as he offered the cigarettes in an open palm. "Is there something I can help you with?"
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He took a step back, pulling the cigarette back out of his mouth and the vantage point of the balcony didn't give him more than he'd been able to conclude while downstairs. "But since you're offering, you could tell me about the girl who died last night." The fact that he would have found his way to Leon eventually didn't change the fact that he hadn't meant to be here yet and he didn't sit down, preferring to smoke on his feet. There was something too self assured about Leon that he didn't like, as if the man thought he had the price tag on everyone around him. Why this would bother him today wasn't easy to figure out.
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"When you enter my home it's by my hospitality," he went on, still quietly. "And if I care to retract it I will." Smoke made a haze between the two of them. He was still studying the man through it, watching him stay on his feet as though to avoid corruption. Leon lifted his cigarette to his mouth, chased the breath of smoke with a shot of whiskey. He might have denied the murder if it hadn't spread all over town by now. "Who are you? What's your interest in her?"
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"The more cooperative you can make your staff to my questions, the sooner I can leave your hospitality," he noted, making it obvious what he was, even if he didn't state it. Just like he left the implication that he didn't plan on leaving until he'd gotten what he came for, no matter how ludicrous it might be in a place like this. Taking a backward step felt like it would lead to being sent straight back into the streets without reentry so he stepped forward instead, resting his hand against the table while leaning close. "My interest is similar to yours, I'm looking for the person who killed her." There were things about this man's actions that weren't quite on the reports, more spoken word, but none of them pointed to him as the murderer in this. There hadn't been enough on Leon himself but could tell the kind of man he was by standing close to him now.
It made sense to think of the cops he'd met this morning and imagine them in Leon's pay, either by force or not. He could imagine this man digging up everything about a person and turning it against them but he also knew there were government men with a critical eye in this direction and that not as many of the agents were as easily corrupted.
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"Where were you yesterday?" he demanded pointedly. His mug of whiskey clicked against the table as he set it down. Leon got to his feet, cigarette in hand, stepping closer to the balcony rail and the man standing beside it as though to corner him there. "There were plenty of you boys asking questions. The city's finest, all turned out for one poor girl." As if it was her they cared about, as if every room they'd searched had been for evidence of a murder and not for liquor. He dragged on his cigarette and turned his head to exhale the smoke. "I'd like to see your badge, you understand. Any man can pretend to be something he's not."
A lot of bank notes had exchanged hands to make sure the house stayed open tonight. He was sick of the presence of cops, their invasion of his home. He took another step closer. "After that I suggest you go back to your station and read some reports. You'll find all the information my staff had to give."
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The easy way Leon dismissed him didn't matter as long as he got his point across. He didn't miss it either, the way the murder seemed less important than the clues about the establishment. Well, the government wanted the prohibition taken seriously and Matt wanted to find out who was killing people off. For now at least, their interests were looking in the same direction. When he was pulled off the murder and motioned toward the liquor, he'd at least have another chance to keep looking between the lines. It was all involved anyway and while he didn't think Leon would do this, it didn't mean he didn't believe the stories of what this man was capable of in its place. How far he was willing to go to finish these scrap jobs was indeterminable, it was all a game to play against time in the end.
His hand went to the badge and he turned, meeting Leon's step toward him with one of his own. The badge was easier to press into the other man's hand this way while he smoked close to him, as if this was the last cigarette he intended to have and he needed to take it in deeply into him. "So I hope you don't mind I'm going to ignore your suggestion and intrude on your hospitality for a little longer."
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He leaned over to crush his cigarette out against the ash tray before he straightened again, smoothed hands over his suit lapels. "This way." His office was one of the many private rooms upstairs. Most of the others were bedrooms, private lounges. This wasn't a cathouse he was running, but if the entertainers wanted to take a man or two upstairs that was their business, as long as they remembered his cut of the tips, the gifts of jewels and money and influence. His office was locked against intrusions, the key an inconspicuous one among his collection, hung on a chain from the lapels of his suit as though it were a pocket watch. He led the way and didn't look back, arrogant enough to assume he would be followed without prompting.
Why not? This was his home, and no one knew more about it than he did. There was no better man to question.
He unlocked the door to his office, glancing back only then and standing aside to let the cop precede him inside. "Can I get you something to drink?" he inquired and it was a blatant taunt, but if the man had come here to raid him he would have done it already. Something else drove him, and Leon intended to find out what.
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He could have demanded to be allowed to speak with whoever he wanted to, those employees Leon was so intent on keeping at work were working illegally after all, but the man's words made sense. He did need to speak with him and his own reluctance to follow was something he needed to eradicate soon. The key to this case could very well exist inside Leon's answers and piecing together what the man was willing to give him with the reports could save him days of worthless wrong turns. It just didn't make it feel less obnoxious to follow Leon's command like a lapdog. He walked slowly though, taking note of the building and the people moving behind the scenes until they reached Leon's door.
There was a hesitation to be trapped in the office with the man. It was illogical, he still had his gun and it wasn't like Leon meant to kill a cop in his own establishment but there was something grating about being closed in. He walked deeper into the room regardless, throwing a glance over his shoulder with the, "No." He stepped in the direction of the desk while looking at the office. "I don't drink anymore." It was to hypocritical, he thought, and his smoking vice seemed to make up enough for everything else. He was aware though that for every shipment the prohibitions destroyed in a raid, the city cops stored two more for their own use. It's what made enforcing the law so useless. "This place isn't going to last very long now. It's too obvious." Cops had already started crawling over here, it wouldn't take long enough for the feds to.
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His office was sparse but elegant, the furniture and the moldings carved of the same red-tinted wood. By day, the broad windows looked out over the boardwalk and the ocean; by night they were just lights and the shimmering reflection of lights against dark water. He put an ashtray on the desk, along with his lighter and cigarette case, open. The desk creaked as he leaned against it, lifting the glass to his mouth.
He wondered about this man, now that he had him in his office. What his price was or what would silence him. "Let me ask you something." He'd promised an interview; that didn't mean he couldn't talk back. "Do you care about her at all? Or is it just the liquor?" There wasn't a single other cop who'd come back, as far as he knew. They'd all had enough of combing his establishment the night before, pretending to be investigating a murder while looking for evidence on which to arrest him and shut him down.
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His eyes didn't do more than skim over the furniture. The show of wealth and power weren't interesting enough to keep his attention when Leon seemed to fill up the entirety of the room with his presence. Everything else felt insignificant beside him and it was part of what made him so fucking dangerous. The fascination hooked in deep and they'd just barely met. Being in his company for longer felt like it would leave him obsessing, even if the obsession was to close him down. The cigarette he took between his fingers was an attempt to drive the filthiest of his thoughts away but there was something about the way the man sat on the desk that made his palms sweat and his mind spin attraction. He wondered if there was something in the air that was fucking with his mind but there couldn't have been and he wasn't as disturbed by the fact that Leon appealed to him as much as he was by the impulse to leave and forget everything he'd investigated tonight.
"But if I were after the liquor right now, I wouldn't be here with you, I'd be shutting you down." There was enough alcohol at the bar to excuse the raid but even then he wasn't sure his words were completely true. Leon's audacity in opening so soon after the murder showed more balls than the city's law enforcement had shown in fighting the corruption eating away at it from the inside. "Tell me about the girl."
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He finished the whiskey he'd been drinking and set the glass down on the deck with a hard click. "She was twenty years old. No family. She came from Philadelphia." There wasn't much of her life outside the club that he was familiar with. He found out what he needed to know. "She worked as an emcee. Everyone who came through here would have seen her." He'd already wondered at and discarded the possibility of a scorned lover, a crime of passion. Her murder had had nothing to do with her, really; the only purpose behind it was to hurt him.
He looked back at the man, meeting his eyes. "I don't believe you'd be able to shut me down if that was what you were here for. And I don't believe you'll be able to find out who killed her, either." He lit another cigarette with restless fingers, snapping closed the lighter. Staying still at his desk was driving him insane. He pushed away from it and came closer again and he didn't stop approaching when he should have, when propriety and society and all the rules of human interaction would have dictated. He kept moving and there was an urge to corner this man against the wall and trap him between his arms. "So why don't you just go? There's nothing you can do here. I'll take care of it myself."
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They were too close but he didn't want to step back. Everything stunk of cigarette smoke and what Leon had been drinking, vice dragged under the skin to make it impossible to resist the desire to want him outside of words and implications.
But tensing, he didn't shut up. "You're not the law, you can't take what happens to the girl's murderer into your own hands." There was a chance that Leon didn't know anything either, that he was just as lost, but he still wanted to know everything the man could tell him. "If you tell me what you know, I won't have to come back." It would be other men, someone Leon already knew perhaps, had already bribed. But he didn't promise this because in reality it didn't quite work that easily and the heat of Leon's body close to his didn't make him want to leave. He reached out, gripping Leon's arm before decimating the last of the space between them with his mouth moving hard over the other man's.
There wasn't another touch but this, his fingers digging hard into Leon's upper arm, and the attempt to smother in a kiss until the moment where he remembered where he was and pulled back.
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He tasted the cigarettes from his mouth, the heat between them and everything about this was wrong but it was so fucking attractive. He caught the man's arms and drew him closer and pushed his tongue into his mouth at once, forcing the taste of smoke and whiskey on him, meeting the hardness of his kiss with that invasion and he wanted to clench fingers in the strands of his hair to hold him there until neither of them could breathe. Matt pulled back but Leon stepped forward and pushed him against the wall like he'd wanted to, cornering him there with the sheer force of his body, caging him in with his limbs. His fingers stroked along his jaw, gripped and angled it up and his mouth hovered close but he didn't kiss him again, not yet.
"You need to look closer at your own department. You're blind if you think there would ever be a trial." Men were so easily bought and paid for. Alcohol smuggling was the lifeblood of this city, its dark underbelly and it was helped along at every step by a police force dedicated to looking the other way when it counted. "Evidence disappears. Arrests vanish from the records and even raids don't mean much in the end when no one cares enough to make anything of them." His teeth closed on Matt's lower lip. He dragged it apart from the upper and ravaged his mouth briefly again. "If you want to find her murderer, help me, not your department. They're useless to you. You'd be better off with me."
The recklessness of suggesting that a cop change affiliations wasn't lost on him, but he had never been a man to shy away from risks. He held onto Matt like he never wanted to let go and the thought of making this man loyal to him seemed suddenly not just important but necessary.
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"There'll be a trial," he told Leon, gripping over his clothes as if to pull him closer. "There are people watching you and they want there to be one. It won't stop at one raid. If the evidence disappears overnight, we'll just break into your bar the next and destroy what we don't take." The second kiss felt as full of implications as the first had, leaving him with feelings that were only carnal and illogical. "Joining you to find the murderer wouldn't help me find the answer if you're the murderer."
Except he wanted to agree in order to continue feeling him close. The way Leon held him was too proprietary though and he pushed the man back, taking a step forward to follow closely after, one hand catching Leon's tie like he planned to strangle him with it. Instead he continued to crush his mouth against the man's, kissing him as if to drive his own words away. He licked the man's teeth, wanting to taste everything inside of him. The cigarette fell somewhere to the carpet and he reached to pull the man's belt open as if they weren't complete strangers.
It was silent around them, the sounds of revelry apparently not strong enough to reach this far. It didn't mean much. He was still armed and it kept him from feeling too trapped with this man. Lust went through him and he wanted a fuck out of this, no matter how wrong it was. It was easier to forgive his own indiscretions than it was to forgive other people. Even if Leon hadn't killed this woman, he knew the man had sent others to their deaths and he condemned him even while wanting him. Leon felt like something violently unpredictable against him and he wanted to take in the taste of him regardless because it was so fucking attractive.
"I'd rather take my chances with the department than with you," he continued, attempting to pull the man's pants open. "They might be all taking bribes from you but that still puts you at the top of the chain and it makes you less trustworthy than any of them."
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