I looked at Newman. He was defeated and deflated. “You have been warned.” I pulled the manila envelope from my shirt. I opened it and took out the official looking document Pete had put together for me.
I tossed it on the chair. “These are the official results of the DNA test for you and the girl, using your own blood. There is no match. You are not related.”
I walked over to him and squatted down, putting my face inches from his. I stared at him for a long while. He looked everywhere except at me. “If you, or anyone working for you, comes within ten miles of that little girl or her mother, we will come back.” I stood. “I know in a couple of days you’ll get your courage back and you’ll start thinking about revenge. If you try to act on that, you will be killed.”
I looked at Fabian. “Cut his right hand loose.” Fabian leaned down and cut the zip ties. I took out a pen and a small notebook. I put them on the chair. “You have an associate by the name of Bill that is associated with Sussex Financial. He’s the guy that supplied the girls for your parties. I want you to write down everything you know about him. Name, address, phone, everything. If you don’t, I will have the woman shoot you in the balls.”
“My pleasure,” Indigo said.
He took the pen and began writing. When he finished, he croaked, “That’s all I know.”
I looked at it. I put the notebook and pen in my pocket. I looked at Blackhawk and nodded toward the door. We went out, piled into the van and drove away.
As we pulled the ski masks off, Indigo said, “So that dirt bag isn’t related to Ashley at all?”
I looked out the window. “I have no idea.”
46
Full circle. Blackhawk and I were sitting at the slots in the Verde River Casino. We were watching a medium-sized guy on a stool, with a big guy standing behind him, cheating a slot machine. They were in the row ahead of us using an emp jammer. Stick it up the machine’s kazoo and disrupt the signals and pull in the cash. The big guy was a shield, hoovering over the other guy, blocking the view of fellow gamblers and more importantly, the security cameras. The place was half empty. It was a weekday, but it was still noisy. Like all casinos are noisy. Clackity clack, ding ding, bingity bong. Every once in a while, the bells would ring, indicating a winner.
Lindy came and sat at the empty machine between us. She leaned over and hugged Blackhawk.
“Thank you so much,” she said.
“You got it?” I said.
“I got the job,” she smiled.
Blackhawk and Elena, primarily Elena, had gotten Lindy an interview with Tomas Marino, the casino manager, for a mid-level job in his organization.
“Happy to help,” Blackhawk said.
“You all moved in?” I said.
“Yep, and Ashley started her first day in second grade today. She loves her teacher.”
“She loves everyone.”
“Yes, she does.”
She looked at me, going solemn. “You sure we won’t be bothered by Don again?”
“I can’t absolutely guarantee anything. But, I’m 99.9% sure this guy won’t want to bother you again.”
“What did you do?”
I looked across at Blackhawk. He smiled. “Jackson reasoned with him,” he said.
“Indigo helped him see the light,” I said.
Lindy nodded. “I like her,” she said. “But I have to admit, she scares me sometimes.”
“She can be scary,” I said. “But she’s on our side.”
Blackhawk pulled his phone and punched a number in. In a moment he said, “Big guy and his buddy in front of us. They have a jammer.” He listened, then disconnected. In just a few moments a team of security moved in on the two guys. The guy with the jammer didn’t even have time to get it back in his bag. They jerked him off his stool and marched him away. The big guy gave no resistance. The guys on the security team were as big as he was.
Lindy was watching, wide eyed. “Wow, what did they do?”
“Cheating,” I said. I slid off my stool. “I’m hungry,” I said. “Suppose Mr. Marino would spring for a steak dinner?”
“I’m sure Mr. Marino would,” Blackhawk said. “And they have great prime rib here.”
“And,” I said, “I want to talk to you both about William S. Hesse.”
“Who’s that?” Lindy said, following me.
“He’s the Bill guy you said brought the girls to Newman’s party.”
“How do you know that?” She looked at Blackhawk. “How do you guys know this stuff?”
“I’ll tell you all about it over a cocktail and a steak,” I said. Of course, I didn’t. No wizard worth his salt shows you what’s behind the curtain.
47
It was a week later. Elena was on a remodel kick. She had been watching a popular remodel show on the tube and it gave her the bug. Indigo was showing an unusual streak of the domestics, and was enthusiastically joining in. Blackhawk and Nacho had escaped, and we were up top of the Tiger Lily, in the shade of the cockpit canopy, drinking Dos Equis.
“So, how do we get to this Hesse guy?” Blackhawk said.
“Someone has to pay for Nikki and Simone,” Nacho said, watching the lake.
“Yes, they do,” I said. “We need to get him arrested. Sex traffickers, especially those trading in young girls, don’t do well in the big house.”
“In the big house?” Blackhawk said, looking at me. “What are you? Broderick Crawford?”
“Who’s Broderick Crawford?” Nacho said.
“Before your time,” I said.
“Before your time,” Blackhawk said to me.
I nodded. “Yea, but you know if I did have a TV, I’d probably waste my days away watching those old black and white movies. You know, Bette Davis, Dick Powell, Humphrey Bogart, those guys.”
“Don’t know any of them,” Nacho said.
“Your loss,” I said. He shrugged.
“What we know,” I said, “is what the girls told us. The organization good ole Luis was in, was Southwest and Vegas and West coast and huge.”
“Luis is gone,” Blackhawk said. “Who’s the new Luis?”
“Good question.”
“Find the new Luis and get him to lead us to Hesse. Set him up somehow.”
“How do we find out who it is?” I said.
Nacho made a noise in his throat as he took a long pull on the beer.
We both looked at him. He swallowed, then leaning back, let out a long low belch. It seemed to go on and on.
When he finished he said, “We could ask.”
“Mouths of babes,” Blackhawk said.
“Ask who?” I said.
He turned slightly to look at me. “You showed me a list of strip clubs that asshole Luis was hooked up with. Whoever took his spot would pick up where he left off.”
“True that.”
“I could go nose around. See if I can come up with a name.”
“Mendoza,” I said.
Nacho looked at me like I was crazy. “It ain’t Mendoza.”
“No, what I mean is Mendoza could ask Vice if they have anything, either on Luis’s replacement or on Hesse himself. Maybe check with Vegas Vice, professional courtesy. When can you start hitting the strip clubs?”
“No time like the present,” he said. Sitting his empty down. He got up and went down the stairway.
“He just likes looking at the titties,” Blackhawk said.
The next morning I was sitting in the waiting area, out in the hallway, down from Mendoza’s new office. I was sitting with a good assortment of dirtbags waiting to answer for the dirtbag stuff they had done.
Across from me was Mr. Jitters. Strung out, skin and bones, long greasy hair, looked like the typical user. But the good news was, he was old enough to vote.
He leaned toward me. “Hey, buddy. You got a cigarette?”
“Don’t smoke,” I said.
“You don’t smoke?” he said. He said it like it was the most outrageous thing he’d ever heard.
“There’s no smoking here anyway,” I said.
“No smoking?” Again, with the outrage. He glared at me for a while. Finally, he said, “You got any change?”
This time I shifted and looked directly at him. “Shut the fuck up, or I will bounce your head against the wall until your eyes fall out.”
He started to say something, then thought better of it. He turned away. I settled back and waited. After a while, Detective Armstead came and got me. Armstead was Mendoza’s driver and body man now that Mendoza had been promoted.
I followed his broad back to Mendoza’s office. He was starting to sport a thin spot on the crown of his head. I suppose my turn will come.
He waved me into the empty office. “The captain is in a meeting. He would like you to wait.” I nodded my thanks and he went away.
The office was like Mendoza, spotless, neat and efficient. I sat in one of the two chairs that fronted his desk. I pushed it back, stretched my legs out and waited. I’d been taught to wait. To not move, hardly breathe and wait. The longer I’ve been out, and the older I get, the harder it is.
Finally, I heard him behind me and I sat up and turned. He was in his shirt sleeves, but still looked starched and neat. His tie was up and tight, his trousers pressed with a sharp crease down each leg, his shirt collar starched and white. He came around me and sat in his chair. He didn’t offer to shake hands. I’d probably fall over if he did.
He had a sheaf of papers in his hand. He laid them on his desk and looked through them. I waited. Finally, he looked up. He leaned back in his chair and it creaked. “So, Jackson. What can I help you with? I know you’re going to ask something, so let’s get to it. I have a busy morning.”
“Good to see you too, sir.” He just looked at me, waiting. Okay then. “There is a large sex trade organization operating here, Vegas and on the West coast.”
He cocked his head. “This involves you how?”
“I became acquainted with two young women recently. Friends of a friend. They both were a part of this organization.”
“They were prostitutes.”
I nodded. “They were both murdered by the organization. One you know about. At least Detective Boyce knows about her. The other, you don’t know about. Her body was dumped in the city dump. Her body will never be found.”
“Names?”
“The names they gave me were Simone Dove and Nikki Boyd.”
He studied me for a minute. “Simone Dove’s real name was Emily Sykes. I haven’t heard of the other one.”
“Luis Portofino was the pimp that ran the local organization. He was the one that had them killed.”
He leaned forward and tented his fingers. “Luis Portofino has disappeared,” he said. “Do you know anything about that?”
“No, except good riddance. What I do know is that the entire organization is run by a guy name of William S. Hesse.”
I noticed he didn’t take notes. He probably knew a hell of a lot more than I did.
“So, like I said, what is it I can help you with?”
“This guy deals in little girls. Younger the better. It offends me. I want to take him down.”
“That would be Vice. I’m the Homicide Commander.”
“I don’t know anyone in Vice,” I said. “I know you.”
“Lucky me,” he said.
48
Two nights later we were at the El Patron. Elena wasn’t performing, so the bar was slow. Captain Mendoza said he would get back to me. Usually, when someone tells me that, I’m a little skeptical. But this was Mendoza. He always did what he said he would do. Sometimes, you might not want him to, but he always did it.
I was nursing a second beer. Sometimes I get bored with beer, so sometimes I’ll try something new. Tonight, it was something called a Kiltlifter. This was an image I wasn’t fond of. The beer was okay, but I’m just bored with beer. I had a long drive back to the boat, so I didn’t want anything stronger. I was mulling my fate when I saw Jimmy lift his head and break into a large smile. I swiveled on my stool and Detective First Grade Boyce was walking into the room. She was dressed the way she usually dressed, dark slacks, dark jacket and crisp white blouse. Her badge wasn’t on her belt. She must be off duty. The pistol was still on her hip, under the jacket. It was never off duty.
She slid up on the stool next to me.
“The sign out front says, ‘no firearms allowed,” I said.
“Fuck the sign,” she said. Jimmy came up and set a coaster in front of her.
“What’ll it be, Detective?” he said.
“Jimmy, make me one of your great Grey Goose martinis,” she said.
“Coming up,” he said. He looked at me. “Another beer?”
“Ballantine’s on the rocks,” I said. To hell with it.
I swiveled to look at her. She was looking at the empty bandstand. “Elena’s not singing tonight?”
“Now that’s good detecting, took the night off,” I said. “Even multi-lingual superstars take a night off now and then.”
She looked at me. “You always have to say something cute?”
“It’s a gift,” I said.
“That unfortunately keeps on giving,” she said.
Jimmy brought the drinks. I lifted my rock glass. She reached over and clinked it, then took a drink. Okay, progress toward detente.
“The captain says you are interested in William S. Hesse?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Why?” she said.
“You sent me a picture of a dead girl,” I said. “A blonde girl.”
“Yes, Emily Sykes.”
“I knew her as Simone Dove.”
“AKA,” she said. She took another drink. This one was more like a bird peck.
“Probably. I have no doubt that Hesse had her killed. I’ve told Mendoza…”
“Captain Mendoza,” she said.
“Captain Mendoza,” I repeated. “That there was another one. We knew her as Nikki Boyd. They shot her and dumped her body in a dumpster at a strip joint on Union Hills and Cave Creek Road. Once the body goes to the landfill, they’ll never find her. Doesn’t matter. I know she’s dead. I want this Hesse guy to pay.”
“You know this how?”
I shook my head. She looked at me hard, for a long time.
Finally, she said, “You know what obstruction of justice is?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s what politicians do before breakfast.”
She resumed looking at me. Finally, she said, “I’m not going to fight you on this. The captain asked me to tell you what we know.”
I took a drink and nodded.
“Hesse is the head of a large prostitution organization. It’s like a corporation, got offices in Los Angeles, Vegas, Phoenix, Reno and Albuquerque. There is a federal task force that has had him on the radar for quite a while. But he’s smart. He has several layers of insulation between him and the actual dirty work. They, so far, haven’t been able to touch him.” She looked at me. “What do you know about him?”
“Just what I told you,” I said, “which isn’t much.”
“What do you know about Luis Portofino?”
I shook my head. “Who?”
She had hitched around and was looking at me steadily. “He headed Hesse’s outfit here. Running girls out of strip clubs. Including the one you just mentioned. He disappeared. You know anything about that?”
“Nope. Who’s in charge now?”
“You don’t know anything about him, but you want to know who’s replacing him?”
“Yep.”
“We don’t know,” she said, finishing her martini in one gulp. “Yet.” She set the glass on the bar.
There was movement behind me and I turned. Nacho sat at the bar across from us. He smiled big at Boyce. “Good afternoon, Detective,” he said.
She nodded at him. “Nacho.”
She slid off her stool and looked at me. “The captain wants you to keep him informed of anything you find. That okay w
ith you?”
“Of course,” I said. She walked out. Nacho and I both watched her until she went through the double doors. A world class exit. Damn.
Nacho and I looked at each other. Blackhawk came down the stairs and slid up onto the stool Boyce had just vacated.
“You find anything?” he said to Nacho.
“Yeah,” he said. “Word is Luis’s replacement is a woman.”
“A woman?” I said.
He nodded, “Yep.”
“Got a name?” Blackhawk said.
“Got a first name,” he said. “Bartender said her name is Julie.”
“Julie!” Blackhawk and I said simultaneously, looking at each other.
49
All the next week, Nacho and Indigo went on a fact-finding tour of the strip clubs that had been on Luis’s list. It was tricky gathering information without gathering suspicion. They found the best sources of information were from the girls themselves. Evidently, Julie’s transition into the Phoenix scene had not been seamless. One pimp had purportedly ended up dead. But there was no proof because there was no body. Two others had broken bones to speed along their cooperation.
Julie’s name was Wang.
“As in Wang’s wing,” I said. Everyone just looked at me. “You know, like in Murder by Death.” They all just shook their heads and turned away. “You know, Peter Falk, Alec Guinness.”
They still wouldn’t look at me. They started talking about something else.
“Peter Sellars,” I kept trying. Nope.
“The word is,” Nacho was saying, “Julie Wang is from Vegas, but she has moved here. She’s run by the mob out of L.A.”
They Called Her Indigo Page 17
