Danger in High Heels

by Gemma Halliday

  "So the sister is the slut," Dana said, scrunching her nose up at the platform. "I guess it runs in the family."

  I turned the shoe over. On the bottom of the shoe, someone had written in black sharpie. "Property of Glitter Kat." I raised an eyebrow showing the bottom to Dana.

  "Glitter Kat," she read. "You think that's Katrina?"

  "It has to be." I paused, remembering what I'd seen on one of the cocktail napkins in the wastebasket. "And I think I know where to find her."

  I ran to the trash and dug around, coming out with the napkin that had caught my eye. I smoothed it on the table. The logo on the corner read, "Glitter Galaxy" with an address in Industry. Right next to a silhouette of a naked woman hanging off a pole.

  Dana gasped over my shoulder. "Oh. Em. Gee. It's a strip club!"

  I nodded. "It looks like dancing ran in the Sokolov family."

  Chapter Twelve

  The City of Industry is one giant block of warehouses after another, housing the inventory for most of Los Angeles's import and export businesses. At least half of which are legal. A warehouse full of toys from China might be right next to a warehouse full of overpriced Scandinavian furniture, next to a warehouse full of Coach knock-offs. Between the warehouses are nestled trucking companies, cheap Chinese buffets, and gentlemen's clubs where no actual gentlemen would step foot.

  The Glitter Galaxy was a one-story, square building sitting between a John Deere wholesaler and a warehouse with the name "China-Co" printed on the side. The parking lot was surprisingly full for a Tuesday afternoon, sprinkled with a mix of pick-up trucks, sedans, and big rigs. We were the only minivan.

  I parked in a slot off to the side and stepped out into the glare of the Galaxy's neon signage. Clinging to their roof was a nude woman with huge neon yellow nipples. I looked down at Livvie and Max in their car seats.

  "You know, I'm not having a real 'good mom' moment right now," I told Dana.

  She paused, looked down at the babies, up at the neon lady. "Well... let's look at it this way: You did breastfeed them, right?"

  I nodded.

  "Then it's not like they'll see anything in there that they haven't seen before."

  "That almost made me feel better."

  "Don't worry. I'm pretty sure they're too young to be scarred for life. I think you have to be at least six months old for that."

  I hoped she was right as I grabbed two kangaroo pouch carriers, popped a baby in each one, then handed a carrier to Dana.

  "Oh, actually..." Dana said, holding Max by the armpits as the pouch dangled around him. "Do you mind if I wear Livvie?"

  I shrugged. "Sure. I didn't realize you had a preference."

  "Oh, no, not a baby preference," she clarified, swapping tots with me and strapping Livvie onto her chest. "It's just that Livvie's carrier is powder pink, and it matches better with the canary yellow in my sweats, don't you think?"

  I was about to roll my eyes at her, but as I looked over, I had to admit, she was right. Hey, if you gotta wear a baby, you might as well accessorize them well. Plus, I was glad she was taking more interest in her looks. Even if it was just accessorizing her sweats.

  I strapped Max to my own chest, his baby blue carrier actually going very well with the red top and white, denim pants I'd selected that morning. Then I beeped the car locked and pushed through the doors to the Glitter Galaxy.

  The interior was dark, windowless, and smelled like stale cigarettes despite the statewide ban. A long, cat-walk style stage took up most of the floor space, jutting into the center of the room. It was painted green and doused with a healthy sprinkling of glitter, like a child's art project gone awry. Groupings of tables and chairs sat near it, half of them full of droopy-eyed guys with their hands under the tables as they watched the action on the stage. Around the perimeter of the room were plastic booths, painted white with red trim to look like space ships.

  A sign above the stage proclaimed in neon that we had entered the "Glitter Galaxy", and an advertisement in hand written paper next to that said that drinks were half priced to all earthlings from 3-6pm on Thursdays.

  On the stage was a woman in a space helmet, wearing tall platform heels and nothing else, wiggled her naked butt to Elton John's "Rocket Man" being pumped through the speakers.

  Instinctively I covered Max's eyes.

  A woman with long dark hair and almond eyes approached us. She stood at least a head shorter than I was and wore a lime green bikini with little aliens painted on it. She looked down at the babies strapped to our chests. "Eighteen and over only here," she said in a thick, Asian accent.

  "I promise they won't watch," I said, still covering Max's eyes.

  She raised an eyebrow at me. "Hey, we're pretty open here, but we got to draw the line somewhere."

  "Look, we're not here to…" I trailed off, thinking of those hands under the tables. "We're here to see Katrina," I settled on. "Glitter Kat."

  The woman paused. "You know Kat?"

  "We know her sister. Or, knew," I corrected myself.

  She stuck a hand out my way. "Ling."

  "Maddie." I shook, trying to block out where that hand might have been. "Is Kat here?"

  Ling shook her head, a frown settling between her delicate brows. "She hasn't been in all week. I was actually starting to worry about her. It wasn't like her not to show for Thursday."

  "Why do you say that?" I asked.

  "It's our big money night," she said, pointing to the half-priced drinks sign. "Not that I'm complaining. I took her slot. Made three large. Nice night."

  "Three hundred?" I asked, impressed.

  "Thousand."

  I blinked at her. "You're kidding."

  "No way, José," she said, her thick accent stumbling over the Americanism. "I don't kid about green."

  I did a little mental math, trying to calculate how many pairs of new boots that was.

  "When was the last time you saw Kat?" Dana asked.

  Ling scrunched up her face, her eyes searching the ceiling for answers. "Monday night."

  The day before Irina was killed. An interesting coincidence.

  "Did you ever meet Kat's sister?" I asked.

  Ling shook her head. "No. But this isn't really the kind of place you invite your family, you know what I mean?" She paused, looking down at the baby I was wearing. "Well, most people don't."

  "Did she ever talk about her sister?" I asked, ignoring the jab at my parenting. Hey, I still had Max's eyes covered. "Her name was Irina."

  Ling narrowed her eyes at me. "Was? Something happen to her?"

  "She's dead," Dana said.

  Ling clucked her tongue. "Oh, that sucks."

  "Katrina never mentioned her?" I asked.

  She shook her head again. "Sorry. I never heard her talk about a sister. But Kat wasn't really that easy to get close to."

  "How so?"

  Ling scrunched her nose up again. "She had a terrible temper. Always yelling. She even yelled at her uncle when he was here."

  I perked up. "Uncle?"

  "Yeah. This Russian guy. He comes in last week and says he's looking for Kat. That he's her uncle."

  "And Kat yelled at him?"

  She nodded. "She got all upset when she saw him, then they went outside, and I heard them arguing in the parking lot."

  "What did they say?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know. It was all in Russian."

  "Can you describe this uncle?" Dana asked.

  "Tall, dark hair, pale skin. Kinda good looking in a Euro-trash way. Mindy was even gonna ask him out," she said, gesturing to the space girl on the stage. "But I told her not to bother."

  "Why is that?" I asked.

  "He was wearing an earring. It was a big, diamond stud. In his right ear. You know what that means." She winked at me. "Fruity."

  "Wait - I thought left ear meant gay," Dana put in.

  "That's what Mindy, thought, too. We argued about it all afternoon after he left."

  "Anyth
ing else you can tell us about him?" I asked.

  She shrugged her slim shoulders. "Sorry. I didn't pay much attention. He argued with Kat, then he left, and Kat did her set. I figured it was no biggie, right?"

  "Ling!" a guy shouted from the last booth.

  "What?" she yelled back over the music.

  "You're up!"

  "Sorry. Gotta go shake my money maker," she told us, heading off toward a silver, beaded curtain to the right of the stage.

  I watched her, digesting what she'd told us. "So our mystery guy visited both Irina and Katrina," I mused out loud.

  Dana nodded. "And he argued with both."

  "And then Katrina argues with Irina about money, and Irina ends up dead."

  "And Katrina takes off," Dana added. "Totally suspicious."

  "Totally," I agreed. "What do you want to bet the Russian guy wasn't really Kat's uncle?"

  "About as much as I'd want to bet that Kat had something to do with her sister's death." She paused. "Maybe Irina wanted money from her to buy votes?" Her eyes lit up. "Maybe she hired the Russian guy to shake her sister down for cash."

  I shot her a look. "'Shake her down'? You really have been watching too many Scorsese movies."

  "Or maybe Irina was blackmailing her sister for money," Dana went on, undeterred. "Maybe she knew a secret about her from back home in Russia. Maybe, they were, like, international criminals on the run!"

  I opened my mouth to tell her I was officially cutting her off from HBO when my cell buzzed to life.

  "Hello?" I answered before I checked the readout. I know, rookie mistake. One I regretted as soon as I heard the familiar voice on the other end.

  "Hey, babe."

  Ramirez.

  "Uh, hi. Honey."

  "What?" he yelled.

  "I said 'hi.'"

  "I can hardly hear you," he responded. "Where are you?"

  "Uh..." I looked at the stage where Space Girl was scooping up the last of her twenties, stuffing them into the top of her boots. "Nowhere."

  "The music is really loud. Can you turn it down?"

  "Uh, not really. I'm…"

  I looked to Dana for help.

  "Shopping," she supplied.

  "I'm shopping." I cringed at the lie.

  "God, where are you shopping?"

  "Hot Topic," I lied. "Teenagers like loud music." I felt guilt spreading through me like a rash and tried to block it out as I asked, "So, what's up?"

  "Got a break. I'm heading home for lunch. I thought maybe I'd get some twin time in."

  Oh snap. I totally forgot about lunch. "Uh, right. Sure. Great," I said, gesturing wildly to Dana that we had to exit, pronto. She nodded, catching my drift and led the way back toward the front doors.

  "Cool. You're, what, fifteen minutes away?"

  I closed my eyes, thinking a really dirty word. Hot Topic at the mall was fifteen minutes away. I, on the other hand, was a good half hour. "Something like that," I hedged.

  "Okay, meet you at home then."

  "Greatloveyouseeyousoon," I slurred together double time as I hung up and jumped into the min-van. We had the babies strapped into seats in record time. I pulled out of the parking lot, praying the green light gods were with me. If not, I was going to have to make a big sacrifice to the kissing-up-to-your-husband gods later.

  Only running two orange lights, I made it home in twenty-two minutes.

  Unfortunately, Ramirez had made it home in fewer, as his SUV was already parked in the driveway.

  I tried to calm my pulse back to normal as I shooed Dana back to her own car, grabbed a twin in each arm, and walked through the front door.

  "Hey," Ramirez said, coming out of the back bedroom. He leaned down to kiss the head of each baby.

  "Hey yourself," I said, only slightly out of breath.

  "The little guys give you any trouble?" he asked, taking Livvie from me.

  I shook my head. "Nope, they were little angels!"

  "What did you get?"

  "Huh?"

  Ramirez frowned at me as he headed to the refrigerator. "You said you were shopping. What did you get?"

  "Oh. Right." I looked down at my hands, sans shopping bags. "Uh, we were more window shopping than anything."

  "Oh," he said from the kitchen. "Cool." He opened the refrigerator, pulling out a loaf of bread and some mustard.

  I prayed that was him dropping the subject. Shoving guilt down, I set Max in his swing and followed Ramirez into the kitchen.

  "So, you got a break today, huh?" I asked, leaning my elbows on the counter in front of him.

  He nodded. "Yeah, we got a potential lead in the case coming in, but it won't be ready until late this afternoon. Thought I'd take advantage of the time and spend it with my lovely family," he said, planting a fly-by kiss on my cheek as he reached for the salami from the refrigerator behind me.

  "A lead?" I asked, perking up.

  "Uh-huh." He squirted mustard onto a slice of sourdough, reaching into the drawer for a knife to spread it.

  I waited. "Well?"

  "Well what?"

  "Well, don't leave me hanging. What's the lead?"

  His eyes twinkled with a devilish gleam that said leaving me hanging was exactly what he'd intended to do. "Oh. You want to know what it is?"

  I swatted him on the arm with a napkin. "You're killing me here," I said, taking Livvie back from him so he could cut his sandwich.

  "Well, since you've been so cool about being left out of the loop on this one-"

  Ouch. Guilt washed over me heavier than a storm.

  "-forensics came back with analysis of contaminants left at the scene."

  "Contaminants?"

  "Hair mostly."

  "Oh. And?"

  "And there were a few contributors. The victim. Ricky."

  I cringed. "But his hair should be in his dressing room, right?"

  Ramirez nodded. "True. Howeeeeeever," he said, drawing the word out.

  "Yes?"

  He grinned down at me. He was enjoying this way too much. I felt some of that guilt slipping away. "There was another contributor."

  "The killer?"

  "It's possible."

  "Whose is it?"

  "Unknown contributor at the moment. They're running a DNA profile now, but we'll need something to compare it to before we have anything conclusive."

  I pursed my lips, jiggling Livvie in my arms. What did you want to bet that Unknown Contributor was our Russian with a thing for diamonds?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Two salami sandwiches and a round of "Itsy Bitsy Spider" later, Ramirez headed back to the precinct, and I headed to the nursery to put the twins down for a nap. As soon as the silence descended, I grabbed my cell and hit number three on my speed dial.

  "Maddie, dahling, how are you?" Marco answered.

  "Fab. Listen, right ear or left ear? Which one do gay guys wear studs in?"

  "Oh, honey. No one wears studs anymore. That was so 2000's."

  I rolled my eyes. "Humor me. Assume a guy is very fashion stunted. Which ear would indicate that he's also into guys?"

  "Right."

  "You sure?"

  "Definitely. But you can borrow my gaydar if you're iffy on someone."

  I pursed my lips together. "Actually, I'm trying to find someone, and I don't have much to go on. Just an earring."

  "Describe him to me," Marco demanded.

  While expecting Marco to know every gay man in L.A. was a little like expecting Joan Rivers to know every plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills, I figured it was worth a shot. I gave him the brief description we'd gotten.

  "Doesn't ring a bell. Sorry."

  "I figured as much."

  "But I'll ask around and see if anyone knows him," Marco offered.

  "Fair enough," I agreed. "Thanks, Marco."

  I hung up and settled on the couch with a DVR-ed episode of Dancing with Celebrities. I watched Irina's last performance, dancing the mambo with Ricky. I had to admit, she w
as graceful, smooth, beautiful. I wondered what her sister had been like. How had their lives been so different that Irina had ended up on TV and Katrina at the Glitter Galaxy? While I watched, I grabbed my laptop and googled everything I could about Irina.

  Her official bio was slim, which wasn't totally surprising as this was her first season on DWC. She'd come from Russia four years earlier. She'd been a back-up dancer in a few music videos, then landed the DWC gig. No mention of her life prior to arriving in the U.S. No mention of a mysterious Russian guy.

  My cell buzzed to life beside me, Marco's name lighting the display.

  I quickly answered. "Hey."

  "I found your Russian," Marco sing-songed into my ear.

  I sat bolt upright. "No way!" What do you know? Turns out maybe Marco did know every gay man in town.

  "Way. Turns out a friend of a friend of a friend saw him at a club the other night."

  "You're sure it's the same guy?"

  "New in town, Russian accent, diamond stud in one ear."

  "So far so good. What's his name?"

  "My friend's friend's friend didn't get a name."

  "Crap."

  "Turns out the Russian was more into the anonymity thing. But, he did take my friend's friend's friend home with him."

  I felt my hope perking up again. "And home is?"

  "A hotel. The Bayshore Inn in NoHo."

  "Marco, you are an absolute gem!" I squealed.

  "I know. I am, right?" he agreed.

  I hung up and quickly texted Dana saying we had a lead.

  Then I texted my mom. As much as I was dying to follow up on our mystery man, the last place I wanted to drag my precious babies was a seedy motel in North Hollywood. Especially since I'd already dragged them to a seedy strip joint in Industry.

  Luckily, Mom was free and said she'd be there to babysit in twenty minutes.

  Unluckily, the twins woke up from their naps in ten, and had worked themselves into the foulest mood on the planet by the time Dana arrived. Their cries had reached decibel levels that even Spinal Tap couldn't achieve.

  "Sorry, they're in a mood this afternoon," I yelled to Dana as she came into the living room.

  "Great," she yelled back. "Please tell me we're not taking them with us?"