I examined the surroundings. “Very nice office. That painting… Is that a real Blue Dog or a print? And is he inside the Dome?”
“It’s real. I commissioned this painting a year before George died. Blue Dog in the nose bleeds of the Superdome; how can you go wrong? So, how can I help you?” His hands were clasped on the desk as if this was his interview, making a show of being relaxed.
Tara sat like a statue. Only her eyes and mouth moved. “Last week, you hosted a private party somewhere close to the banks of the Mississippi, right?”
“Last week? No. I hold fundraisers for political figures and yes, the occasional party for my clients, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“All roads lead to you, Harry,” Tara said. “You and your company, Winning One.”
“Roads? I can’t admit to a party I didn’t host.”
“Cut the bullshit, Harry,” I said, chomping at the bit to show him a picture of Haley. “We know you ordered Alma Caviar for the party two weeks ago.”
“Almas,” he corrected.
“Almas. Excuse me. We know it was served at the party and we know this dead girl was at that party.” I placed the picture on the desk with a hard thwak.
He gave it a glance. “I served Almas two months ago at a fundraiser for Senator Folsom. The order from two weeks ago was for my own personal use with my own money. A bonus I pay myself, if you will.” Harry licked his lips and glanced at the phone. His eyes returned to mine and he exhaled.
I slid the picture toward him. “Do you recognize her?”
“Pretty, but no.”
“Did you and her have a private party with this personal order of Almas?”
“No.”
“Really? ’Cause you’re turning pale.”
“I’m on blood pressure medication. This matter is making me nervous for the mere fact that you don’t believe me. Yes, I order Almas caviar. You got me on that. I’ll show you the damn invoices.”
I pushed the picture an inch closer. “This girl was found floating in the Mississippi River with Almas Caviar in her stomach. You can deny it, but we know for a fact that it came from you.”
“Have you tossed around the hypothetical that the Almas came from a different order out of state?”
“Sure, but we’ll follow the most likely scenario first, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m a lawyer, detective. I know you’re fishing. You can call my Blue Dog painting a Picasso all day, but it will never be true.”
I nodded. “Having ordered the caviar doesn’t mean you spoon-fed her, but you’re linked. Look again; see if it jogs your memory.”
He didn’t look. “Sorry.”
“It’s just a matter of time before I interview one of your guests who will place her there, so if you know anything…”
“You don’t have guests to question if there was no damned party.”
“What about your partners here? Would they have taken some of your caviar and had their own party. An array of appetizers was found in her stomach at various stages of digestion. It was a real catered party, Harry.”
“No one here touched my caviar. But, ask for yourselves.”
“We will. We’ll have a guest list once we get our warrant.”
He laughed, and then stopped abruptly to lean forward. “A warrant for what? You act as if there is a list to be had. The most you got is that I pass around caviar.”
“So far.” Tara added.
“This is a waste of time. My company caters to very powerful people, including the judges that sign your warrants. Feel free to stick your noses where they don’t belong.”
“You hear that, Detective Gray? He’s going to get us fired.”
“Are you that naïve?” Harry spun a quarter turn in his chair, admiring his Blue Dog one more time.
“Are you that arrogant?” I shot back. “Forget the guest list. Maybe we should start at the top of your client list and work our way down.”
His pores opened as a sheen of sweat took hold. “That would be a clear-cut case of harassment and for that, I can sue.”
“Maybe we run into a few of your clients at their favorite bistros. Maybe we chat about things. We don’t have to ask a single question.”
“Do you know what it will do to our credibility if you link a murder to this company when you’re not even sure about the facts? Just the assumption…”
Tara let her folded arms drop. “I don’t get what the big secret is. What the hell kind of party was this? You guys wearing masks like Eyes Wide Shut, goats and shit?”
Harry scoffed at that with a sneer. “Is there anything else, detectives?”
I stood and inspected the Blue Dog up close, blocking his view. “Let’s say you’re innocent, Harry. What if I told you this Blue Dog was painted on top of a Picasso? Would it be true then… that this is a Picasso?”
“I’m not protecting anyone.” He was quick-witted.
“Harry, we’re trying to wrap this up right here in this room.” I returned to my seat. “You shut us down, and then we have to go elsewhere for information. That will be when your clients start to call you with their own questions.”
“Fine. Let’s do this. I want to help.”
“Your caviar gets shipped and stored here, correct?”
Harry’s eyes glassed over. “I guess you’ve done your homework.”
“Let us interview your employees today. We’ll do it right here in the building.”
“I have no problem with that. I’ll set it up.”
I looked at Tara with a nod. “Did you take any of this personal order home? Did your wife or kids have any?”
“No. I can show you where I store the caviar, but the refrigerator is empty at the moment.” He paused. “I suppose you’re going to question my wife, too.”
“If we still have our jobs in the morning,” Tara said.
Harry’s attitude took a dump. “On second thought, my employees are really busy today, so unless someone is under arrest, we’ll have to do this another time.”
“Fine. We can play this game.”
“Look at the time. It’s way past lunch and I’m starving,” Harry poured his attention into his laptop. “I’m thinking soft-shell crab at LaPlace on Bourbon. I have a standing reservation.” His eyes darted to me for a split second.
Why would he stress that? I pushed out of the chair. “Make sure you tell the mayor we were gentle.”
“You have a sack, I’ll give you that.” Harry tapped away on the keyboard.
“I got nothing else. You, Tara?”
“Not a thing. Just know, Harry, that this was the nice visit.”
He stood and walked to the door, making a broad show for us to exit. “When you come back with your warrant, if you come back, consider me, how do you say in cop-speak, lawyered up?”
We left Winning One knowing that Harry wasn’t clean in this. Dirty Harry, I chuckled to myself. Tara called Dobson to have the company’s financials opened up. I only prayed that Chance was in the dark to his activities. I figured my cell would be lighting up with Chance’s call at any moment.
Chapter 23
A platinum-blonde dancer showed Cozy to a locker and a spot at the chipped Formica counter to put on makeup. They were less catty than she imagined, but maybe that came from a perceived sisterhood, or misery loves company. Just like high school, all the lockers had padlocks, which Tabby hadn’t mentioned. She undressed and put her clothes on little hooks near the top of her cubby, having to trust her stuff wouldn’t get stolen.
Cozy fiddled with her costume while pondering Porter’s death. He had cleaned up the Titus mess. That could have been so he could continue his sinister activities, knowing she wouldn’t say anything. And then he kicked her out with no money, telling her she could keep the apartment if she paid the rent. He had balls. But, did someone give him those orders. They wanted her out on the street. And lastly, this job fell into her lap. She didn’t believe in fate, but she did believe in manipulation.
She held confidence that if they wanted her dead, she’d be dead.
Where did Haley keep all the money she had made? Detective Peyroux would have mentioned a bank account. Haley wanted to stay off the grid and if her sister was a top earner, then she stashed it someplace. A secret place where there may be tens of thousands of dollars. It certainly wasn’t in that dump of an apartment, unless the cops had found it. Could Tabby be the one who had it? Would Haley have trusted her?
Could Ray know her real name? If he did, the charade would continue as long as it had to. Keri Sullivan was the name of her childhood best friend who had moved to Empire and pumped out a kid with a fifty-year-old Denny’s cook that refused to marry her. If they tried to look her up, at least there would a record of a female her age with that name.
The dancers checked out her body as she squeezed into her bikini – or maybe they noticed her scars, the main ones included a two-inch jagged line across her thigh from a close encounter with an alligator, a four incher across the small of her back from when she crashed into a bayou tree while knee-boarding, and a small vertical one on her stomach from falling through a pier of an abandoned camp. Most guys liked the scars. The bullet to her neck was the best one yet.
She finished dressing with a plaid skirt, white blouse and double ponytails sprouting from the top of her head. Her abdomen felt like she had done a hundred sit-ups and her nipples hurt. She had eliminated a cancerous, drug-dealing drain on society, and yet she had to close her eyes and take a deep breath, feeling light-headed in anticipation of her stripping debut.
Several girls pranced around on stage, which jetted out of the rear wall like a giant phallus. Portions of the lighted platform expanded into a dancing circle at the base, middle, and tip, all complete with a pole. Cozy was to do three ten minute sets an hour, but no rotation on the floor for lap dances just yet. That suited her fine, as she felt exhausted just watching.
#
The night went better than expected, even with wearing the same outfit for every show. Initial count put her at three hundred and twenty-two dollars. Her mind spun with the possibilities of continuing this line of work. Her makeup-caked face looked slutty in the backstage mirror, but that part of the package. Haley must have entertained the same thoughts of getting rich quick.
Ray surprised Cozy as she wiped off her glittered disguise, placing his large hands on her bare shoulders. The warmth felt comforting in a decadent way.
“You did as well as any first-timer. Congratulations.”
“It was so surreal, like I was somebody else. And the money – wow.”
“How would you like to make a little more before you leave?”
“What? Go back out again?” She tried to turn to face him.
“No. We have a VIP in the audience, one that was very taken with you.”
“Who is he?”
“A VIP, which means he’s a spender. Are you up for the challenge?” His hands smoothed her hair back.
“Give him a dance?”
“Yes, but in the Emerald Room with total privacy. The rules can be bent with this VIP. Do you know what that means?”
“He can touch my boobs?”
“Not exactly. In this case, what the customer wants, the customer gets.” He took his hands off and spun the chair around to face him. “I’m giving you an out. The girls that do this extracurricular work… They want to. They’re experienced at it. I won’t hold it against you if you decline. There have been girls that have refused. I’ve never fired a girl for saying no. I promise you this.”
She waited a beat. One of these people killed her sister and once she hesitated, she would be done. It was just sex. It was just skin touching skin. The degradation and humiliation would be worth it if she dealt out justice in the end. She swallowed hard and squinted at him. “Morals are great for people with a bed and food. Can I do a couple of shots before I go in? Tequila?”
He clenched his jaw in hesitation. “I’ll have Diana send them back.”
“Thanks.”
“Five minutes,” he said before walking away.
Moments later, Diana arrived with four shots and a beer. She looked down at Cozy through her nose, holding out the drinks for her to take. Her hand found the counter as if it kept her from falling. “You’re the first girl who has ever been allowed to drink without a customer at their side.”
“Is that a good thing?” Cozy imagined Ray would pounce on her like a panther once she blinked.
#
The VIP wasn’t too horrible to look at, but Cozy’s vision blurred with the shots of Tequila taken with the beer backer. Her equilibrium started to falter as her head buzzed. The dim room closed in on her, but she focused on the task at hand.
The older gentleman’s casual attire still looked expensive. The dance in the Emerald Room started normal enough with him watching through dim lighting as her hands massaged her body to a fast Hip-hop song. But things changed when he took her by the hips, pulling her G-string to her ankles without warning or hesitation. A wave passed through her stomach and she fought not to throw up. This was real. She had put herself in this situation.
His hands streaked up her thighs and around her ass. She almost bit her tongue when his finger penetrated. It took several minutes of clumsy foreplay before he suggested she return the favor with her hand. If she could just get him to finish before anything else happened…
Two minutes into the hand job, she felt something hard tap her head. She hadn’t noticed that he had pulled out a gun and had it against her temple.
“What are you doing?”
“Does this scare you?” His hard expression reminded her of a mad drill sergeant.
“You don’t need that. I’m doing what you want.” Cozy’s head tilted with the pressure.
“Maybe you need incentive to do a good job.”
“I’ll do a good job.”
“Maybe I want to blow your brains out as I cum.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“Good. I want you scared. I want you to act like I’m forcing you. Are you a good actress?”
“Yes.”
“Then act like this gun has bullets. Act like I just broke into your bedroom. Cry if you can.”
Cozy snapped into the character he wanted and her eyes watered. She bit her lip and cringed at the sight of the gun. He pulled her fingers away from his erection and smiled, commanding silently to go down on him. His erection blurred and the room swayed.
“No, please. I’m a virgin.” This kind of acting wasn’t a problem.
“That’s good,” he hissed.
With a small Tequila belch, she closed her eyes and pictured Haley’s bloated corpse in the river. With that anger, she found the strength to guide her lips to the target while leaving her own body to join her sister back in the bayou. The tear that rolled down her cheek meant nothing to her, but she sensed he was pleased.
The man clawed at her hair, bringing her back into the room. He… It… Was smaller than Ashton, clean and manicured and smelling of fresh soap. She thanked God for that. After ten minutes, he finished in spasms like an epileptic, the gun pointing skyward. He collected himself as if he had lost his dignity. Cozy held her lips tight while searching for somewhere to spit. His hand found her shoulder.
“Swallow it.” The barrel of the gun touched her nose.
She closed her eyes, already having built up a pool of saliva. With a deep breath and a single flex of her esophagus, she sent it down, hoping it wouldn’t come right back up with the Tequila. As her eyes dried, she stood, but he caught her wrist.
“Wait. Open your mouth.”
“Why?”
“I want to make sure.”
“Okay…” Her mouth opened and the VIP used his fingers to search inside, checking as closely as a dentist. Once satisfied, he handed her a beer to drink as if a reward. He nodded and then pulled up his pants, barely having smiled through any of it.
“I have to be careful about leaving traces behind, you underst
and.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
The man finally cracked a grin and exited without a farewell. Cozy entered the backstage bathroom to vomit with the urgency of having a terrible case of diarrhea. Opening the stall door triggered the upchuck reflex and her stomach evacuated. She flushed, pushed her hair from her face and then rinsed her mouth out with Scope, coming to grips with the world she had entered.
She dressed like a sloth, placing her stage clothes in her bag and left the other girls with flimsy goodbyes. It was early morning and the main room was mostly cleared. She stopped at the bar.
“Tequila me again, please. Make it two.”
The bartender didn’t move. “Mr. Corondelet?”
Ray stepped up to the bar. “Pour.”
Cozy turned to face him, wiping under her eyes. “Am I fired?”
“Fired?”
“I don’t think he liked me.”
Ray kept eye contact for a moment, holding out a fold of bills. “Keri, Keri, Keri. He loved you. Loved the tears. Makes that kind of man feel powerful. This was a big test. Not all the girls pass. Do your shot.”
“Test?” Cozy tilted the glass into her mouth, welcoming the stinging effect. She slapped it down onto the bar and did the second shot while staring Ray down. With her eyes watering again, she flipped through the money.
“This is five hundred dollars.”
“You may have just invited yourself into a higher income bracket.”
“He seemed… I just thought…”
Ray touched her chin and then returned to his office.
She had over eight hundred dollars from one night alone and she hadn’t even been on the main floor. Money was a great incentive to hook these girls. Little do they know they’re being indoctrinated to be slaves. She shouldered her bag and walked for the exit where a bouncer stood guard. She kept a poker face, something she had become adept at.
“Hi, I’m Vince.” He held his hand out.
Jesus. Will this night ever end? “Hi, Vince.” Tabby thinks you’re a dick.
“Hell of a first night,” he said. “Going in the Emerald Room with that guy. He doesn’t come in too often ’cause he likes to see the new girls. A couple times he just walked in, took a look around and just walked back out. He’s very picky. Might not be a coincidence he came in tonight.”
Where The Devil Won't Go: A Lucas Peyroux Novel Page 12
