by Frank Zafiro
She wore a white one piece dress that hung off of her like she was just a wire hanger.
“What’s your name?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, man. Why are you hassling me? I’m just waiting for the bus.”
I looked to my left and right, but saw no bus stop. She watched me, then pointed across the street to the bingo lot where Fawn’s body had been dumped. A covered bus stop was located on the edge of the parking lot.
“Funny,” I said. “’Cause you were standing over here.”
“Is there a law that says I have to wait for the bus right over there?”
“Actually, yeah, there is.”
“Whatever. Creeps hang out under the cover. I don’t feel safe.”
“Why don’t we just cut through the crap and have a real conversation?”
“Real how?”
I pointed to the front of my car and she shuffled over and stood by the license plate.
“What’s your name?”
“Jade.”
“I’m not going to bother asking if that’s your real name. Then we don’t have to play the name game for another twenty minutes, all right?”
“Fine with me.”
I turned to the younger girl. She looked maybe twenty, which translated to probably seventeen if you took away the whore makeup. Maybe less. Her short red hair was gelled and pasted to her skull, like some science-fiction character. She wore a tight, black mini-skirt and a gray tank top. An oversized silver cross was attached to a black choker, reflecting the dull amber light of the streetlights.
“How about you?”
“What about me?” she snapped.
“What’s your name?”
“Fuck you. I ain’t got nothing to say to no cop.”
I held up my hands, “Whoa. Why all the hostility?”
“You assholes killed my brother. So go fuck yourself.” She turned and strode away purposefully. I let her go. I’d just have to catch up with her after I finished with Jade.
“Did you guys really kill her brother?”
I had no idea, so I ignored her statement. “When was the last time Sammy G. collected from you?”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Sammy G.?”
“Yeah. Sammy G. Or do you work for Rolo?”
“I don’t pay no one. I’m independent.”
I stepped in close enough to smell her musky scent of perfume and stale sex. “Do you see my headlights on, Jade? Do you see my emergency lights flashing?”
She gave me a confused look. “No.”
“That’s because I am trying not to make a big production out of this. But if you want, I’ll throw you in the back of my car and take you up to the BSC clubhouse and tell them you’re my newest snitch.”
“Shit.”
“When did you pay Sammy G. last?”
“I paid him two days ago.” She looked left and right nervously.
“You know he’s dead?”
“Yeah, well, good riddance. I hope he rots.”
“Anyone else ask you about him?”
“About Sammy G.? Nobody talks about things like that, except maybe other girls.”
“Anyone try hurting you recently?”
“Like what? I get sickos every day.”
“Like really serious hurting. Raping, choking, stuff like that.”
She shook her head. “Nothing like that. I have one guy who gives me a miniature baseball bat and has me hit his pecker with it.”
“Sammy G. ever beat you?”
She shrugged. “He has his ways. Or had his ways, I should say.”
“Meaning?”
“He didn’t want to damage the merchandise, right? He never smacked us around. Maybe a hard grab or something. But if you crossed him more than a little, he’d bang the hell out of you.”
“He’d use rape to punish you?”
She shrugged. “I only had it happen once. That was enough for me. Some girls had it happen a few times.”
I crossed my arms. “He get violent with you when he raped you?”
“Jesus,” she muttered. “Rape’s not violent enough for you?”
“What I mean is, did Sammy G. ever choke you, either on the street or when he was punishing you?”
“Huh-uh,” she said, with a slow shake of her head.
“How about any of the other girls? You ever hear of anything like that?”
“No, never. What’s with the choking questions?”
I ignored her question. “And no one’s been asking you about Sammy G. or any of the other girls this past week?”
“No. I told you that.”
I showed her a five by seven of Fawn Taylor. “You ever see this girl?”
She took a quick look at the picture and shrugged. “Once or twice.”
“When?”
“A month or so ago. She was hanging with Toni. You know Blonde Toni?”
“Yeah. Did Sammy G. ever hurt the girl in this picture?”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Like I said, I only talked to her once or twice. She was kinda hoighty-toighty for a crackhead.”
I showed her Serena Gonzalez’s DOL photo. “How about her?”
“That’s a lousy picture of her, but yeah, I think so.”
“Where?”
“I think she worked at one of the bars down here. She’d walk home some nights, right through the corridor. Some of the girls thought she was competition and were a little worried.”
“Why?”
“Girl was a hot tamale. She would’ve taken away a lot of business.”
“Did Sammy G. ever talk to her or hurt her?”
She gave another shrug. “Not that I heard about. But I don’t think she was working.”
I pulled a business card from my back pocket and handed it to her. “If any of those things I described happen to you or anyone around you, give me a call.”
I drove around briefly, looking for the little angry girl with the sci-fi haircut and dead brother, but she was off the main strip and nowhere to be seen. I swung in next to the other working girl I’d seen before she disappeared, too.
“Oh, for Chrissakes,” the prostitute said, spreading her hands open wide to me. “I’m just walking here.”
“I’m not looking to bust you,” I told her.
She was blonde and had her hair pulled back in a tight pony tail that bobbed when she walked.
“What are you looking for?” she asked. Her lips were pressed together, but even in the poor light, I could see the bright red lipstick.
“I’m not looking to screw you, either, so relax.”
She turned her hip to me and leaned forward slightly. The tube top she wore showed her ample cleavage. “Sugar, if you ain’t gonna bust me and you ain’t gonna fuck me, then you are wasting my motherfuckin’ time.”
“Wow. You eat with that mouth?”
She pursed her lips and let the tip of her tongue curl out slowly, caressing her lips. “Baby, I do everything with this mouth.”
Despite the long day, I had to smile at that one. “What’s your name?” I asked her.
“What do you want it to be?”
“Nuh-uh. What’s your name?”
She tilted her head as if she were trying to figure me out. “I go by Grace. What’s your name, baby?”
“Tower. John Tower.”
“You say that like it’s a secret agent name, John Tower.”
“I’ve got a few simple questions. After you answer them, you can go back to work and I’ll leave you be. On top of that, you can tell me to fuck off as you leave, if you want. Make anybody watching think you didn’t cooperate.”
“What do you want to know?” she said briskly. “And handcuff me while we talk.”
I stepped closer to her and motioned for her to turn around. She put her wrists together without being told.
“I know Sammy G. collected for the BSC out here,” I said.
“Congratulations.”
“Did he collect from you?”
&nb
sp; “Is this an audit?”
I slipped the cuffs onto her wrists and clicked them home.
“Not too tight,” she said in a low voice.
I laid Serena’s picture on the hood of my car. “Can you see that?”
She nodded.
I took one of her elbows and used my foot to direct her to spread her feet apart. “Ever see her before?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“I never saw her before.”
I laid Fawn’s picture on top of Serena’s. “How about her?” I asked and reached toward her to pat her down.
“Yeah. I’ve seen her. She was working around here for a while about a month ago.”
My hands slid along her waistline. “Was she working alone?”
“Maybe. I dunno. I saw her with Blonde Toni once. By herself, too. She was an early-bird crack-head.”
“Early-bird?”
“Not all messed up yet. It takes a little while for crack to start showing through.”
I bent her over at the waist and ran my hand down her calf and checked her tennis shoes.
“You wanna pay for a date, Special Agent Tower?” she cooed at me. “‘Cause this is feeling like about twenty dollars’ worth.”
I didn’t answer her, but stood her back up and switched sides. She didn’t have a lot of clothing to search and I still had a few questions.
“Did Sammy G. ever hurt this girl?”
“Sammy who?”
I gave her wrist a little twist and she yelped. “Let’s play nice, Grace. No lies and we’ll get finished quicker.”
“That’s police brutality.”
“Did Sammy G. ever hurt the girl in the picture?”
“I don’t think so. She wasn’t around long enough. She made some payments and ditched a few, it seemed like. She was scoring her crack somewhere else. I never saw her at the clubhouse.”
“Sammy G. ever hurt you?”
I felt her body stiffen as I searched. “Why?”
“Just answer the question.”
“It doesn’t matter what he did to me. Besides, he was nothing compared to that sick fuck Rowdy.”
“Rowdy?” I bent her at the waist again and took my time squeezing her shoe as if searching for something. “Who’s Rowdy?”
“The guy who collected before Sammy. He was a sadistic asshole, smacking girls around even when they paid. He forced some of us to do some weird shit, too.”
“Weird how?”
“Dungeons and whips, that kind of thing. I can’t stand that stuff.”
I walked her to the rear of the car and had her lean against it. The streetlight didn’t reach us there.
“What ever happened to Rowdy?”
“He’s still at the clubhouse. I don’t know what they’ve got him doing. I told Sammy G. that I wasn’t going on any more dates with Rowdy. If they made me, I’d leave town and go back to Portland or over to Seattle. I’m not into that freaky-deaky shit.”
“What’s Rowdy look like?”
Grace laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“He looks like Howdy Doody,” she said. “That puppet from the fifties, you know?”
I reached out and guided her to turn around. As I unlocked the first cuff, I asked, “Anyone else come around asking about the girl that was with Blonde Toni?”
Grace paused and I knew the answer was yes. I stopped after uncuffing one wrist and waited for her to respond.
“Yeah,” she said finally. “A few days ago.”
I uncuffed her other wrist. “What’d he want to know?”
She turned around to face me, rubbing her wrists. “If she was working. Who was pimping her. And if anyone was hassling her.”
“This guy, was he kinda beefy?”
“Yeah, kinda. In the chest. Not fat, though.”
“Did you ever see him before then?”
“Nope.”
“Since?”
“Huh-uh. I didn’t think much of it. We talked, had a sort-of date and he left.”
“Sort of date? Did he try to hurt you at all? Choke you?”
“No, but let me tell you something. He’s dangerous. I could tell.”
“Think he could kill someone?”
“Oh, yeah. No doubt about it. But he was decent to me. When we finished, he went back to looking for his little girl and I went back to work.”
My eyes snapped to hers. “His little girl?”
“Yeah, baby,” Grace said, tapping Fawn Taylor’s picture. “He said he was her daddy.”
Sunday, April 18th Davenport Hotel, Early evening
VIRGIL
When the white taxi arrived, I flopped into the back seat and rubbed my eyes. “What’s up, Axel?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but Axel isn’t working tonight.”
I dropped my hands and stared at the kid driving. He wore the same white shirt and black tie that Axel wore, but his brown hair was conservative and he had the bright face of youth.
“Where’s Axel?”
“He’s off most nights. I lease his cab from him when he’s not driving. Where can I take you, sir?”
“The Palms Motel.”
The kid nodded and turned around in his seat. He dropped the car into gear and pulled quickly away from the curb.
“Any music tonight, sir?”
“No thanks,” I said absently before looking up at the kid who was driving. “What’s your name?”
“Damon,” he said, but kept his eyes on the road.
“Damon, did Axel teach you how to drive a cab?”
His eyes flashed to the rear view mirror. “Yes, sir.”
I leaned back and smiled. My luck was finally changing.
After paying for the ride, I quietly walked up the stairs to my room in the Palms. I opened the door and stepped into the dark room, closing the door behind me. No light from neighboring neon signs slipped in past the drawn curtains. In the stillness of the room, I smelled a mixture of body odor, liquor and leather.
“Don’t fucking move,” the voice growled at me from the darkness.
Something stirred to my left and I turned a second too late. A blow crashed across my jaw, forcing me further into the room and onto the floor.
“Get him!” a voice boomed.
Hands grabbed at me and I threw punches wildly in the darkness. Someone kicked me hard in the ribs and I let out a loud cough of air. I rolled over to push myself up and a ton of bricks slammed on to my back, pinning me to the floor. A hand slid its way into my hair and bounced my head off of the floor several times.
A voice giggled in the darkness.
“Shut up, Doc,” the first voice ordered.
Doc’s laugh snapped off.
“Mikey, you got the prick?”
A low voice over my shoulder answered back. “Yeah.”
“Want I should hit the lights?” Doc asked.
“Yeah, go ahead.”
The room lit up with a flash. I tried to lift my head to look around but Mikey slammed my face into the carpet. The taste of blood washed around in my mouth as I tried to count the voices. Through the muck and mire in my brain, I counted three voices. Mikey, Doc and the boss.
“Doc, pull the chair over near Mikey.”
I heard a chair drag across the carpet.
“Mikey, give ‘em one good shot in the kidney to put him straight.”
I tried to brace for the blow, but still almost wet myself when Mikey’s fist thundered down on the back of my right kidney.
“Doc, give him a hand lifting the cocksucker up.”
The two of them hoisted me up and dropped me into the chair. I glanced around the room and saw the three of them. Each had dirty jeans, black leather jackets and long greasy hair. The one in front of me stood across the room, his arms folded across his chest. A spider-web tattoo spread out around his neck.
The one to my left had a goofy smile that revealed several missing teeth. His eyes lit up in excitement when I glanced at him. He sto
od between me and the door.
On my right was a monster of a man. A mixture of fat and muscle, his head was almost twice the size of mine. He sneered at me when my eyes met his. A hand whipped across my face and sent shock waves through my teeth.
“Don’t look at me,” Mikey growled.
I lowered my head and swept my eyes around the room, looking for anything to help.
“What are you doing?”
When I didn’t answer, Doc grabbed me by the back of the hair. “Razor asked a question.”
I lifted my eyes up to Razor, the boss of the three-man crew as he spun around a ring on his right hand.
“Are you fags going to gang rape me?”
Doc yanked my head back as Razor jumped across the room. His hand crashed into my cheek and his ring tore a chunk of flesh from my face. I could feel the blood immediately cascade down my face and neck.
“We ain’t in prison, bitch. Ain’t none of us fags.”
“Except Doc,” Mikey joked.
Doc let go of my hair and pointed at Mikey. “Shuddup, you fuck.”
Mikey laughed, but kept a tight grip on my arm.
“Doc, you better grab….”
I swung my left arm at Razor, catching him with a glancing blow across his chest. He fell backwards as I struggled to stand up. Doc latched on to my free arm, stopping my momentum. Mikey leaned in and head-butted me in the forehead. I collapsed back into the chair.
Razor scrambled back over to us and climbed on top of me. His hand snaked into my hair, where he grabbed hold and then slammed his fist into my face four times. Razor shoved himself off of me and stood.
I ran my tongue over my teeth and found a couple were broken on the left side of my mouth.
Razor pointed at Doc. “Don’t ever let go of him again.”
Mikey squeezed tighter around my right bicep. My hand went numb from the pressure.
“Who sent you down here?”
“No one,” I said and felt blood dropping on to my chin.
Razor’s hand shot out and slapped me across the face.
“Why’ve you been watching the clubhouse?”
I shook my head, trying desperately to clear the fog of pain. “I haven’t.”
“Wrong answer,” Doc said.
Razor spit in my face. “We’ve been watching you watching us.”
My head felt heavy and I dropped it down. Razor’s black boots were scuffed and his jeans were tattered at the legs.
