“Yeah. So what?”
I shook a finger his direction. “You wanna punch someone’s ticket, you tap them in the heart or head. You know what I’m talking about. I’m telling you, the dame knew I could take the damage.”
“Then why go through the trouble at all? What’s the point?”
“She wanted to show him what she’s capable of,” Natasha said. “She wanted him to know she can kill him whenever she wants to.”
We all turned to stare. I’d nearly forgotten Natasha was there. She’d been sitting quietly on a stool the whole time, listening to every word. She blushed prettily at the sudden shift of attention, but continued to speak.
“I don’t think this is about Sophia or Benny.” Her smoky eyes locked with mine. “I think it’s about you, Mick. I think the assassin is playing some sort of twisted game with you, and everyone else are just pieces on the board.”
I sighed, exhaling a cloud of gasper smoke. “Points to the lady for putting the pieces together. I’m inclined to believe she’s right. At first I thought it was a vendetta against Flacco, but that’s nixed at this point. I’m the target. This is about my past catching up to me.”
Flask shrugged. “Ok, where does that leave us, then? Is this lady gunman working alone? And if not, who’s really behind all of this? All we’re doing is going around in circles here.”
“Not for long. You all know I lost most of my memory not too long ago. Everything I remember is after I woke up in this Haven. And since that time I haven’t had dealings with any dame who would hate me like this one does.”
Angel sniffed. “I’m surprised you can keep up. Your apartment may as well be called the Red Light District from the rumors I hear.”
I winked. “Only the best parts are true. You should know that, Angel.”
Her face turned scarlet as Flask gave her a questioning look. My amused chuckle turned into a coughing fit after noticing Natasha’s decidedly neutral gaze. I doused my sputters by chugging the rest of my coffee and quickly returning to the main subject.
“The point is, I don’t know any woman who would come after me with a killer grudge. She mentioned things about my past I can’t remember at all. Which means she’s probably an agent of the Secret Service.”
Poddar’s eyes widened. “You worked for the Service? You never told us that.”
“I only recently found out. Besides, that’s not something a body just shares with anyone, you know? I’m opening up a Pandora’s box just telling you right now.”
Flask whistled softly. “I knew there was something different about you. You’re right–that definitely changes everything. If the Service is gunning for you there’s not much that can be done. They don’t exactly play around when it comes to finishing a job.”
Benny stared bug-eyed as though he’d never seen me before. “The hell, Mick. You didn’t say nothing about being with the Service. This could muck with my uncle’s entire operation.”
I pulled a bottle of Jack and some shot glasses from under the table. “Don’t everybody start dying at once. I swear, you’re all squealing like a bunch of newborn kittens. Take a drink and calm your nerves.”
Ms. Kilby waved away the offer. “Although I tend to agree with the sentiment, you can’t deny this puts us in a bit of a pickle, Mr. Trubble. The Secret Service has long sought a way to infiltrate New Haven and place their operatives in charge. The fact that you have ties to such a lethal association is unsettling to say the least.”
“Anyone can be a target at this point.” Poddar held his shot of Jack as though not sure what to do with it. His eyes slid over to Ms. Kilby. “I’ve seen what those SS butchers can do firsthand. Any and all means to get to an end. Collateral damage means nothing to them.”
I downed a shot of Jack. “Well, maybe I should fly solo until this thing sorts itself out. Wouldn’t be the first time. And with the exception of Flask, I kinda like you folks. Wouldn’t want anyone catching a stray slug with my name written on it. Well, unless it’s Flask, anyhow.”
Flask poured a shot and swigged it. “Yeah, yeah–I get it, Mick. Not to worry. Captain Kennedy is on my ass about this case. I’m in until it’s over.”
I knocked back another shot. “Your funeral, Ace.”
Benny folded his arms. “I’m not going nowhere either, Mick. Sophia was blood. Don’t matter if it’s the SS or not. Somebody’s gonna pay for what they did to her.”
Poddar looked at Ms. Kilby, who gave the slightest nod. He shrugged. “I never said we wouldn’t help, Mick. It would not be fair to let you go at this without backup. We’re partners, right?”
“Yeah, but that’s not gonna fly this time, Ace. I can’t guarantee any of us will make it outta this soup sandwich alive so best make sure it’s what you wanna do, right?”
Poddar didn’t bat an eye. “If I say I’m in, I’m in.”
I nodded. “Appreciate it, partner.”
Angel drummed her manicured nails on the table. “Hope you don’t expect me to shuffle paperwork while you’re all out on some dangerous mission. I can handle myself in a tight spot, you know. I want in, too.”
I knew Angel could handle herself in a tight spot, all right. Both in between the sheets and out. After all, she had conned me with the whole ‘naughty good girl’ act, all the while playing both sides with Tommy Tsunami and the Gutter Girls, pretty deadly company either way. Her whole secretary act was suspect as well, but I let that slide so I could keep an eye on her. Her looks had nothing to do with it. Or so I kept telling myself.
Flask chuckled, leaning over to rub Angel’s shoulders in a downright chauvinistic manner. “Now Angela, I know you work in the Flats and all, but this is the big leagues. I wouldn’t want you to…” His voice trailed off on seeing her murderous glare.
“A smart man knows how to shut up before getting slapped,” I said. “So kudos to you, Ace. And don’t worry, Angel. I don’t think any of us should be working alone in view of the situation. So you’ve just been deputized. You watch Flask’s back. I want the two of you at Customs. If we’re lucky you might catch a break and sniff out a clue on how our SS agents are getting in the Haven.”
“I’m on it.” Flask hesitated, taking another look at Angel. “I mean, we’re on it.” He loosened his tie with a quivery smile.
“Great. Poddar, you’re with Kilby, naturally. She’ll be checking with the Gutter Girls, and then I want you both to get with the handler that got you in the Haven. He might be able to tell you something Customs can’t.”
“Wait a minute.” Flask stared at Poddar and Ms. Kilby. “You two are illegal residents? That’s a serious crime. I can’t just–”
“Can it, Flask. Consider their pardon the price for me working the case.”
He folded his arms. “I don’t like it, Mick. And I don’t like your new partner, either. Don’t think I don’t know exactly who he is and who he’s related to.”
Benny gave him a murderous glare. “Like I enjoy even being in the same room as you, flatfoot.”
I waved my shot glass. “No point in everyone getting outta sorts. Think about what we’re here for, got it? Good. Now, I’m taking Benny along for a ride. Got canaries that are gonna sing real soon.”
“I noticed you haven’t said anything about me.” Natasha shot me a warning glance. “I hope that doesn’t mean you plan on stashing me in some hideaway, Mick. I told you–I’m finished running.”
“Not on your life, sweetheart.” I mentally nixed my plans to stash her in some hideaway. “You’re with me and Benny. Between the two of us tough lugs, it’s the safest place for you to be. That all right with you?”
Natasha picked up her shot and downed it. We watched with silent amusement as she barely managed not to explode in a coughing fit. She shakily placed it back on the table and looked at me with watery eyes. “Fine with me, Mick.”
“Atta girl. Ok, everybody: time to move out. Keep in touch, got it? Everyone check in at least every two hours.”
Flask took a har
d look at me. “You sure you’re up to this, Mick? You look like you can barely stand.”
I forced a grin. “Been worse, Flask. Trust me.”
He stuck out his hand. “If you say so. Good luck, Mick.”
I shook it. “Yeah. Got a feeling I’m gonna need it.”
Chapter 12: Death and Desiree
“Wow. That’s one beautiful ride, Mick.”
The garage was a graffiti-ridden, dilapidated wreak of peeling paint and rusted shingles. The wheeler inside of it was not. Maxine was newly rinsed and waxed thanks to the garage’s built-in auto wash system, her beetle-black curves on full glossy display.
“You hear that, Maxine? Natasha here thinks you’re a real beauty.”
Maxine’s headlights blinked. “Thank you, Ms. Luzzatti.”
“Aw, no need to be formal, Max. You can call her Natasha.”
“As you wish.” The doors slid open, revealing the cushy leather interior. An expertly concealed seam became visible as the cab extended itself and the rear seats flipped forward.
Natasha smiled. “This is a dream ride, Mick. How can you afford something like this?”
“Uh, it’s a long story.” I definitely didn’t want to get into the specifics of extorting the ride from Pike, the mobster that marked her parents for death.
“I’ll take the back seat if you want, Mick,” Benny said. “That way you and your lady can talk and stuff.”
“Chivalrous but impractical, Benny. You’ll never fit back there. Natasha, if you don’t mind…?”
“No problem.” She slid into the rear seat. “Wow, this is a bit cramped. Cushy, but cramped.”
“You should have been there when I had a cowboy and a mutt named Stinker inside. Not exactly the best of memories. Right, Maxine?”
“I seem to remember ending up in a swimming pool.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. The seats automatically adjusted to our height and weight as Maxine’s fusion motors awakened with a pleasant purring sound.
Natasha’s hair brushed my cheek as she leaned forward and examined the control console with excited curiosity. As I inhaled in her clean, soapy scent I was distracted by the random notion to kick Benny out, stomp on the gas, and put serious distance between us and New Haven. Just me and Natasha on the unknown road…
“So why do you call her Maxine?” Natasha’s teasingly coy voice shattered my daydreams. “Let me guess: after some foxy dame? Some heartbreaker in your past you couldn’t get out of your system?”
I paused in tapping a mapping coordinate on the heads up display. “I really don’t know. It was the first name that sprang to mind when I acquired her. Just felt proper, I guess.”
Natasha rolled her eyes. “Sure Mick. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
Maxine screeched out into the rainy streets. Water puddles became glimmering pools of gold as the city brightened in wake of the rising sun. The downpour had trickled to a light drizzle and sunlight streamed through breaks in the clouds, shimmering off the glistening buildings and endless air traffic of the Uppers. It was still murky in the city depths, where the asphalt steamed in the shadows of the colossal structures. The billowing fog created the illusion of driving through clouds. A few streamlined skimmers hummed quietly on the road, repulsors winking as they kept the vehicles hovering above the blacktop. Maxine rumbled past, her Telsa fusion engine more than a match for the less powerful electric skimmers.
I gazed through the moon roof. “Look at that daylight. You’d almost believe it was the genuine article.”
Natasha placed a hand on my shoulder as she gazed up. “How do you know it’s not? Maybe the shielding allows natural sunlight to come through.”
“Not on your life, kiddo. Nothing penetrates the shield around this Haven. The dome around the city is all smoke and mirrors, digital projections of night and day.”
“I don’t get it,” Benny said. “Why put all the extra dough into optical illusions? Why not just make the shield transparent?”
“Cause then we’d see how wasted things are on the outside.” I grinned. “That’d be unsettling for the zombies who’d rather forget they live in a giant fish bowl.”
Benny shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “So where we headed, Mick?”
“To the last place I wanna go, to see the last person I wanna see.”
He cut a sideways glance my direction. “You funnin’ me, or dodging the question?”
“One and the same, Benny. Hold on–got a message coming through.” I slid my cuff back to glance at my holoband. The message that pulsed from the display was about the last thing I expected to see.
“Gotta take a detour. Maxine, head for the Red Light District. La Lupanar, specifically.”
“Recalibrating for the quickest route, Mr. Trubble.”
Benny leaned over, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Hey, I’m always down to shoot the woo and all, but you wanna flip some skirts with her around?” He jerked a thumb toward the back seat.
“Not what you think, Ace.”
“La Lupanar.” Natasha’s voice was oddly hesitant. “I…remember that place.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry to bring up bad memories, sweetheart. But this important.”
“Why are we going there, Mick?”
“No clue.” My voice turned grim. “Esmeralda just said she was calling in that favor I owe her. And coming from a boss dame like her that pretty much means I’m not gonna like what we find when we get there.”
La Lupanar wasn’t the type of joint you visited during the day. At night the Victorian-styled manse projected an air of majesty and class despite the debauched goings-on that took place inside. Sunlight did nothing to enhance the allure. The joint’s hidden flaws were on full display in daylight: cracks in the bricks, mud spatters and moss that decorated the outer walls, faded shingles on the roof.
But the biggest difference was the joint being closed. That was decidedly foreboding for a cathouse, even at sunup.
“I got a bad feeling about this. Natasha, you might wanna stay here with Maxine. Me and Benny will check the joint out.”
She hesitated only for a second before shaking her head. “No. I’ll go with you.”
I knew better than to argue. The last time she’d been to La Lupanar we were on the run. The Red-Eyed Killer had murdered Natasha’s parents and was keen on cutting Natasha down to finish out the contract. I stashed her at La Lupanar for safekeeping while I handled the situation. When I came back, Natasha was deep in a state of shock, burying her emotions and even the memories of the murders deep in her subconscious. It took sheer guts to face that again.
She exited the back seat and stared at the pleasure house. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly and squared her shoulders.
I tilted my Bogart over my eyes. “You ready?”
She steeled her face and nodded. “Ready.”
“Let’s go.”
A tall blond dame in a security uniform gave us a suspicious once-over at the door. Her chiseled biceps were bigger than mine, and her oversized jaw looked tough enough to hammer nails with. That was a direct contrast to her high-pitched, ultra feminine voice. “Are you like, the Troubleshooter or something?”
I tipped my Bogart respectfully. “I shoot trouble or something, so I guess that’s me.”
Her bland expression revealed that my charm and witty banter had sailed right over her head. “Whatever. I thought you’d be taller. Follow me.”
I knew something was terribly wrong as soon as we entered the bordello. Normally regulars lounged in the vintage-decorated lobby, getting warmed up by the new girls while waiting for their appointments. Sex kittens would saunter around with drinks and smokes, faces covered by opera masks and their bodies covered by much less. It was an atmosphere of mirth and sin blended like a cocktail and twice as tasty; the perfect combination for certain breeds of men to be relieved of absurd amounts of money.
Instead of perfume and drunken laughter, the joint reeked of misery and m
ourning. A few working girls drifted listlessly across the lobby, faces downcast. I spied one of them being crying openly down a darkened hallway.
Benny caught wind of the mood as well. “What the hell happened here?”
The security bull stiffened, but didn’t say a word as she led us past the silent clientele rooms and into the private section in the rear of the mansion where she finally paused at the doors of a large office. She gestured inside.
Madam Esmeralda sat behind a polished oak desk elaborately carved to depict Greek gods in varying sexual positions. A rendition of Michelangelo’s Birth of Venus painting covered the wall behind her, altered with Esmeralda in place of Venus with all of her French-Italian looks fully glorified. The painting was completed when Esmeralda was younger, yet the mature woman who gazed at me with dark liquid eyes was even more alluring, if that were possible. She was usually dressed in the finest Victorian fashion, but had opted for a more subdued gown of darker hues as if to acknowledge the mood of the joint. Her long raven hair was decked out by a diamond-studded headband adorned with peacock feathers.
“Mr. Trubble.” Her heavy French accent was dampened by grief she didn’t bother to hide. “Normally I’d say it is a pleasure. I’m afraid I must skip the formalities today.”
“I already guessed that, Esmeralda. The joint is cheerful as a funeral, and I’ve already been to one of those lately. What happened?”
“Murder happened.” Her eyes moistened. “One of my girls was murdered right here in my house. In my house, Mick.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “I’m sorry, Esmeralda. I promise I’ll do all I can. But you should have called the brass as soon as you found out. I know your surveillance is good. Shouldn’t be too much trouble to track down the skel who did this.”
“My surveillance was blacked out at the time of the killing. And I don’t know the police, Mick. I know you. More importantly, I trust you. And I think you will want to take this case.”
I felt the creeping fingers of dread massage the back of my neck. “Why’s that?”
The Troubleshooter: The Most Dangerous Dame Page 12
