Baby Brother Blues (Sammy Dick, PI Series: Book 1)

by Trudi Baldwin

  I watched in fascination as Charley placed the sharp tip of his hunting knife straight down into the side of the fish. Then in a movement that was quite quick for Charley, he jerked the knife upwards again and with brute force plunged the tip into the side of the humphead. I flinched, almost jumping off the sofa.

  “Heh, heh, heh.” Charley’d barely noticed my flinch. “This here humphead is a fine Chinese delicacy. One of the most expensive fishes known to man. Cough, cough.” Then he added, “Also one of the stinkiest fishes alive…”

  Or dead, I thought, now settling back down into the sunken sofa and watching in fascination as he performed a kind of surgery on the humphead’s side. After several blows and some sawing motions, Charley had managed to cut away the fish’s side entirely. Beneath the flesh was a plastic baggy full of white stuff. I had a pretty good idea what that white stuff was.

  “The damn durned drug dogs can’t smell it over the fish. Yep, yep.” Tuna held the extricated baggy up high, swinging it back and forth in the air like some frozen scrotum he’d won as a carnival prize. “Heh, heh, heh. And now our very fine day is about to get finer, Toya. Let’s snort this right up and you ‘n me enjoy a fine, fine fuck. Then we’ll talk business for your Saturday night party.”

  I figured Tuna was used to coke and crack whores doing just about anything to get their fix. What to do now? He had the drugs in one hand and the knife remained clutched in the other. Meanwhile he was still trying to feverishly suck on the half-smoked cigarette dangling from his mouth. His beady little eyes turned to me in expectation. Worse yet, he’d begun to pant like a dog. Oddly, I noticed he was able to retain the clenched cigarette between his lips while his panting escaped in short bursts of air on either side of his mouth. His lips were flapping slightly with each pant.

  Holy moly! Things had gone from malo to big-fucking, muchas grande, super-sized malo! Time to turn on the Sammy charm and conjure up an escape route, before I get more than my head humped on this grimy couch by Charley the stinkin’ Tuna.

  “Whoa, Charley, that sounds awesome! I thought you’d never ask, and I’m sure you’re a fine, fine fuck as you put it. But here’s the deal. Watching you smoke has made me crave a cigarette so badly, I can taste it. I’ll do everything you want and more, but first I gotta have a cigarette. I’m sure you know how it is. It relaxes me. Let’s go look in that kitchen of yours for just one more. After I suck on a cig a while, I’ll make all of your dreams come true and more. If you find me just one cigarette, I’ll blast you into the outer limits.”

  By now Tuna could barely clutch his own cigarette between his teeth, the panting was becoming so fast and furious. It was fascinating to watch him try to talk, pant and clutch the cigarette all at the same time. His voice came out as a raspy wheeze and became increasingly harder to understand. I think he said something like, “Oh, Toya! This might be the last cigarette in the house. I don’t know if I can find another one. I’ll buy you a carton when we’re done.”

  It sounded more like, “Blah, blah, blah, blah, wheeze, blah, blah,” but I got the basic drift of it. He wasn’t complying.

  “Sorry, Charley. That’s not how it works with me. Where’d you find that one anyway?”

  I think he said, “Fridge.” At any rate, that fit my plans.

  “Perfect! Let’s go find another one and then, I promise you, we’ll get it on like you’ve never gotten it on before in your whole life.”

  I sighed in relief as Charley reluctantly pushed himself out of the sunken depression that his butt had made in the couch. He began a rather fast shuffle across the fake-brick linoleum toward the kitchen. I darted my hand into my bag, clasped the handcuffs, open and ready for action. With the cuffs hidden behind my back, I followed Charley into the kitchen.

  “That’s a good idea to keep your cigarettes in the fridge, Charley. Lots of people do that to keep ‘em fresh.” Inwardly, I sighed in relief when I noticed the fridge door had one of those vertical handles about two feet long, protruding outwards and attached at both ends. I’d have to act quickly.

  As Charley reached to open the fridge door handle, I flew my right hand out from behind my back, flipped one end of the cuffs onto Charley’s outstretched hand and snapped the other end shut on the fridge handle. Gotcha, Charley!

  I thought Charley might start bucking and fighting like a tethered bronc. Instead he just stood there. Then a knowing smile grew on his face, deepening into a lascivious grin. I had to hand it to him, the cigarette was still clutched in his teeth, but now he let the spent butt drop to the floor as he crooned, “Oh, durlin’, you brought cuffs. I take it you like it rough, durl.’ No wonder yur goin’ to send me to the outer limits.”

  “I am sending you to the outer limits, Charley, more like the outer limits of Mongolia. Gotta go, Charley. I’ll send help in a minute.”

  “Yur leavin’? But what about yur party? I thought ya needed a bunch a dope?” It takes dope heads a while to get up to speed.

  When I didn’t answer, he started to whine as the gravity of the situation seeped into his dim awareness. “Toya, Toya, honey, now cum on! Ya can’t just leave me here. Toya? Toya, babe! What about our fine, fine fuck?”

  I wasn’t sure if Charley had a screwdriver or a phone or something nearby to aid in his escape with his free hand, so I figured I’d better aid in my own escape, pronto, while I still had a chance. I rushed back to the dingy couch, grabbed my bag, momentarily lamented the loss of the cuffs, and then scooted to the door, unlocked it, and burst back out into the blinding heat.

  The very first thing I did was suck in huge breaths of the hot Arizona sunshine to rid my lungs of Charley’s smell. I could hardly wait to get away from his house. I skirted around the useless gate and strode back in the direction of my cycle. Before I could even get two strides out, though, a bright red Corvette swooshed up beside me, then slowed down matching my forward motion. Now what?

  A balding, fat man with several chins rolled down the passenger window and asked, “How much for a blow job, honey?”

  Oh, my, my, my. I’d forgotten I was on the street of horrors. Or whores. Baldy here thought I was a whore. I guess my thigh-high boots, tight jeans, tri-colored hair and spandy top might be sending the wrong message. It took me a moment, but I managed to figure out a way to skedaddle out of there even more quickly and avoid the long walk back to my bike in the brutal heat. “This is your day. I’ve got a sale goin’ on blow jobs today, buddy. Pull over and open the door.”

  His face lit up as he jerked the ‘vette to a stop, leaned even further over in my direction and unlatched the door. I extended my booted leg seductively into the low-slung ‘vette.

  “Where to, cutie pie?” he chirped happily.

  I slipped my investigator’s license out of my bag, “Jail, you fucking twit! I’m a licensed investigator and my boyfriend, my dad, and my brother are all with the Phoenix police department. Now, if you want to stay out of trouble, I need you to drive me as fast as you can to 1st Street and Adams where I’ve got my cycle parked. Keep your fucking mouth shut and don’t even think about laying a hand on me, if you know what’s good for you. Follow my finger while you’re driving. I’ve got to make a phone call, fast.”

  I swear the guy’s multiple chins all began to tremble at once as we sped away from Charley’s in the bright, red ‘vette. I speed-dialed Mountain Man for the fourth time that day.

  He always answered when I called because it was always possible I was in trouble. “Montaigne here.”

  “Mountain Man, I’ve got a live one down on Van Buren.” It gave me deep pleasure to watch the ‘vette driver cringe as I said this. Maybe he’d stay away from Van Buren in the future and work on getting a life that didn’t prey on women.

  “Can you give me some detail, Sammy?”

  I rapidly spouted out Charley’s address, described the findings in the bedroom and how Charley had exposed the inner secrets of the humphead wrasse. I felt good because this would eventually show up on Montaigne’s reco
rd as a huge drug bust. Before they slammed Tuna’s sorry ass in jail, though, I recommended Montaigne grill Charley as to his connections with Karl Zaiid and Liang Chen. I also begged Mountain Man to do the grilling by himself, just in case there was a way to keep Liang free and clear, and achieve the win-win solution Tomas so dearly wanted.

  Montaigne didn’t fall for it. “Sammy, if this Liang character has no clear ties to dealing drugs, and he’s just a user, then maybe I won’t involve him. But if he is a dealer, I’m sorry. I cut no breaks for dealers. Period. They bring too much evil into the world.”

  That’s my man. “Understood.”

  “You okay, Sammy?”

  “Sure, I’m okay. I’m shootin’ through town in a red-hot corvette and my case is starting to solve. I’m fabulous!”

  “That you are, Sammy. That you are. Well, since you’re fine, I’m letting you go, so I can move on Tunis ASAP. Be safe, Sammy.” Mountain Man knew me too well to even try and discover why I might be shootin’ through town in a red-hot corvette.

  “Same to you, Montaigne. Oh, yeah, and save my cuffs for me if you can. You never know when I might need ‘em.

  “I’ll do my best. Bye, Sammy.”

  “Bye, at least for now.” I slipped the cell back in my bag. While I was on the phone, I’d been directing Quivering Chins with my index finger to show him where my cycle was parked. Just before I exited the ‘vette, I turned to stare down the driver. “I spend a lot of time downtown in my job, and if I ever, ever see you in the whore district again, I’m havin’ your fat sorry ass arrested on the spot. Got it?!”

  “Got it,” Quivering Chins muttered, his eyes rimmed in red. As soon as the door shut, he lurched away from the curb and sped off. I do believe I’d eliminated one more whoremonger off the streets today, and come to think of it, one more drug dealer too. Best of all, I was now getting enough information to write a report for Swane, jam-packed with actual evidence worthy of a 9K paycheck.

  All in a day’s work, I thought as I fiddled around in my bag for the Ninja key, and then tore out of the lot. I decided to head over to my office in Biltmore to see if I could find Geo. Things were lookin’ up.

  Chapter 34

  I arrived back at the Biltmore lot around three in the afternoon. Parked my bike in some precious shade on the first floor of the above-ground, two-story parking garage across the street at the Biltmore shopping center and jay-walked over to our office building. When I reached the seventh floor, I peeked in the glass door of our office to see what was going on. I saw Geo, his head down, surfing or typing on his computer. I couldn’t tell which.

  I entered and closed the door behind me with a soft swoosh. “Geo?”

  He didn’t look up, “Hey, Sammy. How’s your day been so far?”

  “Stinky, but productive,” I retorted and described in rapid fire the pertinent details of the day. Geo never looked up, but I was used to his extraordinary ability to multi-task. I didn’t even question that he was taking it all in, and probably processing the implications a few steps ahead of me as I laid out what I’d learned. I knew he was disturbed by the developments in Kathy’s life. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was working on her case, not mine. As I talked, I sidled over behind him to see what was on his monitor screen.

  Geo had three simultaneous pages open on his huge monitor. After I finished relaying my updates, I said, “What are you working on?”

  “I’m working both Swann and the Soul Patch investigations at the same time,” Geo responded quietly as his fingers continued to fly across his keyboard.

  Just as I’d suspected. Well, almost as I’d suspected. I thought he’d be working solely on Kathy’s case.

  “These,” Geo said, pointing to a screenshot on the side of his monitor, “are the medical records of Mai Oversong.” I knew better than to question how Geo came up with such things. “Remember your concerns about Sylvester taking out life insurance policies on his key business partners? I was digging into that angle, just to understand the full picture. This long list of medical visits and procedures for Mai is just for the last two years alone.”

  “Cripes! It goes on forever. Is she dying?”

  “That’s what I thought at first, until I dug deeper. See this doctor here?” Geo pointed to a doctor’s name on the screen. “She’s what’s known as an embryologist, and this one here,” Geo slid his index finger down the list without really touching his sacred monitor glass, “he’s a fertility specialist. Mai and Michael are doing everything they can to get pregnant.”

  “Whoa. When you say doing everything, do you mean things like siphoning off funds to do it? I’ve heard it’s very expensive.”

  “No, it’s all above board, or appears to be anyway. Their bank account payouts match the doctor visit dates exactly.” Geo pointed to the middle screen which displayed PDF-shots of bank records. Who knows how he got his hands on them.

  “Well, that explains a lot of their stress as a couple. When I first met Michael, he seemed so conflicted over his marriage that he mentioned something about murdering his wife. I’ve heard it’s extremely stressful for a couple when they want to get pregnant but can’t.”

  I was silent a moment, then added, “I really wouldn’t know, though. I mainly stress over how not to get pregnant.”

  “At any rate, the tests and procedures stopped abruptly in February of this year. My guess is that they were getting so stressed emotionally and financially they gave up.”

  “That would probably heighten their issues as a couple even more,” I figured. “Maybe Michael’s the infertile one? Can men be infertile? Whatever the term is. Maybe it’s impotent. Spermless? Regardless, he’s probably second-guessing himself and her at every step. I hear it makes men very insecure when they’re unable to impregnate their wives. He’s definitely insecure about her. My guess is that he wants to give her what she wants most and he can’t.” Geo nodded in agreement.

  “So what’s the third web-page you’ve got showing there?”

  Geo looked a little sheepish at this point, and I knew immediately the third screen was about Kathy’s case. Hey, I was lucky our case merited two out of three views on his monitor.

  Geo minimized the two pages he’d just shown me and let the last one fill the huge monitor. What a sight it was! A deep maroon, black and teal web-page unveiled itself. The centerpiece was a black tower. Piercing the sky, it was shaped like a hundred-story high obelisk. At its point, a sheer glass pyramid crowned the tip. The Penthouse Eye that Kathy had described.

  “This,” Geo sat back in his chair as he scrolled down the length of the amazing building, revealing all the stories, “is one of the Obsidian Towers. Or at least a vision of what it will look like when it’s completed. There are three of them, one right here in Phoenix. The one in Phoenix was the first, since real estate is cheaper here. I think it was sort of a trial product to see how it would take off. It’s only forty stories high, and like the other two, it’s unfinished. I’m sure you’ve seen it north of the art museum on McDowell. The second one’s in Madrid. Also begun and never finished. And the third one, in Dubai. The towers got progressively higher with each one they built. The one in Dubai is advertised to have one hundred stories.”

  “Also begun, but never finished,” I added for him.

  “You got it, Sammy. All part of a pattern that Kathy has uncovered and that Franklin Leary probably lost his life over.” Geo scrolled back up and clicked on a top tab entitled About Us. When the new page opened, Geo skimmed the cursor down the page until he reached a section called Prime Squared Holdings, LLC. “Here is a description of the purported ownership of the project.”

  Geo finally looked up at me. “I tried to follow the ownership to some source names, but the ownership line is about as revealing as those hollowed-out, nesting Russian dolls, where you open up one doll and another one is inside and then another one and then another. I haven’t been able to follow the LLC trails to any names that reveal anything, except for one.”

&n
bsp; “Oh way to go, Geo. That’s fantastic!”

  “Don’t get too excited, Sammy. Here’s the one.” Geo scrolled back up to the top of the page and hit a tab entitled Phoenix Project. He scrolled down again after the page opened up. “Right here.” He clicked on a hot link in a paragraph with the heading The Ultimate in Construction Miracles. The blue hotlink within the paragraph read Prime Squared Construction. Geo clicked the blue letters and a photograph of a familiar face emerged. A large, handsome photo of Sonny Swane’s somewhat immature face revealed itself on the screen.

  “Holy shit!” I cried. “This is bad news.”

  “Holy shit is right, Sammy. This is bad news. I told you not to get too excited. The only good news is that Sonny’s construction company is not mentioned anywhere else on the website. Different construction companies are featured for both Madrid and Dubai. Plus, I’ve researched the Russian doll companies the best I can, and the financial relationships with the construction companies all look above board and legal.”

  He continued. “Sonny’s company, Prime Squared Construction, seems to be receiving payment straight across for services rendered. It’s a lot of money, but this kind of huge, unusual project is big business. Sonny might be on the up and up, and all of the excess in earnest deposits are lining Soul Patch’s pockets and no one else’s. It makes sense if you think about it. Soul Patch would want to keep his scheme restricted to as few partners as possible for two reasons: more money for himself, and the fewer people involved, the less potential exposure.”

  “I don’t know. Sylvester and my dad alluded to Sonny’s not-so-legal activities his whole life. We can only pray Sonny’s not involved. The biggest trouble with our type of undercover, private investigation work is that so often we uncover information that implicates our client. Then we’re caught between revealing our findings or losing our work and our paycheck, which in this case is big.”