CRASH (A Logan Brothers Novel)

by L. A. Shorter

  Eventually, someone had been seduced by the press. From there, the sordid details of his murder became public knowledge, shattering his image.

  He'd been a regular at the Globe Hotel whenever he came into town for business. Yet he wouldn't stay there. No, he'd only use the hotel for specific purposes.

  He'd arrive under a fake name - Mr White it was revealed to be - and always used room 640. He'd arrange for a single stripper to come to his room, performing for him in privacy. He'd sit in a chair in the center of his suite, shrouded in darkness, a spotlight ahead of him where the stripper would dance.

  Anonymity was critical to him, so he never showed his face to any stripper, or so I read.

  Then further details came out that he'd also pay those same strippers for sex. He'd let them dance for him, size them up, and then take things a step further during their next encounter. He was truly methodical in everything he did, even determining which hookers were right for his needs.

  On the night of his murder, two girls were seen going towards his room. They looked of similar build, similar age, but no direct matches were made with the hotels security cameras. It was a mystery that the press speculated on for weeks, suggesting that a disgruntled prostitute had taken matters into her own hands and knifed him as he sat there.

  Yet now, sitting here with Jones, my private investigator, I felt that another truth was about to be revealed. It was one that I'd suspected from the start.

  “I have uncovered evidence that your father ordered the hit on Michael Cooper,” Jones said to me, his voice totally matter-of-fact.

  “He owned a strip club, did he not?” he continued, pen in hand, still jotting notes for his files. “And he hired his best girls out for prostitution as well?”

  “He had the club yeah, but I wasn't aware that prostitution was part of the set up?”

  “Turns out it was. It's a higher ticket item, Crash, a natural step up.”

  It didn't surprise me to hear that that was the case. My fathers club only attracted high end clients, clients with plenty of money. Surrounded by the most beautiful girls in the city, it was only natural that their appetites would begin to grow deeper. My father was a man of rules and discipline, but he had no problem exploiting any vice for money.

  “So he supplied the girls for Cooper?”

  “Yes. He'd been doing so for many years, as part of their arrangement.”

  “And he ordered one of them to kill him? Why? Couldn't that be traced back to him?”

  “The reasons why escape me, but suffice to say they'd grown apart over the years. I would imagine it was some disagreement over a business transactions or some other matter. I will continue to look into that.” He jotted another note down on his pad.

  “To your second question I say no. It have looked over your fathers files and there appears to be no link between the girls who visited Mr Cooper that night and your fathers club.”

  “So how do you know he was involved?”

  “Because I found the girl who committed the murder.”

  The words hung in the air for a moment. He said it so matter-of-factly.

  “You found her? How?”

  “A hunch. She was a girl struck off, a girl who betrayed your father. I was interested to hear what she had to say, and she was only too happy to spill the beans after a little coaxing.”

  “Coaxing?”

  He smiled coldly. “Don't ask.”

  “So let me get this straight. An ex stripper or prostitute of my fathers killed Michael Cooper under his command? Am I right on that?”

  Jones nodded in his own completely detached way. He was so used to such things that that sentence seemed like nothing to him, just another day at the office.

  “What was her name?”

  “Jenny. Beautiful girl, although a little run down now. The last few months haven't been kind to her.” There was no caring whatsoever in his voice.

  “OK, so how the fuck does all of this relate to my fathers death.”

  He took a sip of whiskey and a puff of his cigarette, the smoke now clouding the room.

  “It is only conjecture at this point, but it may be a revenge hit. The circumstances of your fathers death would suggest that.”

  I sat back in my seat, the pain still fresh, the wound reopening.

  My father had been found shot to death in a hotel room. Hotel Carson, room 801. The details will be forever etched in my memory.

  The circumstances had been a mystery, and the fucking cops were doing a piss-poor job of getting to the bottom of it. He was found alone, two gunshot wounds in his chest. They'd both punctured his heart, and it looked to be a professional hit.

  But no one knew why he was there. Most interestingly, the cameras were faulty that night at the hotel, so there were no images of anyone entering his room. Once more, that only served to make the police believe that the hit was professional and planned.

  The one piece of evidence they did have was a camera from outside, positioned on a building opposite, that looked over the hotel entrance. The coroner was pretty clear on the time of death, and roughly 10 minutes before then a car was seen to pull up outside and a woman get out.

  The image was grainy, but she was well dressed in black, and looked to be young and attractive. The number plate for the vehicle was traced back to a car hire company in the city. When approached about it, they said a young woman, dark hair, very beautiful, had booked the car in cash under the name of Grey.

  Most interesting of all was that the same girl was seen to be leaving the hotel a mere 20 minutes after arriving. This time, however, she wasn't alone. A young man, dark hair, roughly 6' 1” was seen leaving with her, disappearing out of view down the street.

  It could only have been a hit. The girl must have been bait and the guy the killer.

  “I believe,” Jones said, continuing, “that your father partook in certain pleasures just as Mr Cooper did. And, just like him, he wanted to keep it a secret. It would appear that his murder was a set up, and I can only assume that it was a reaction to the Cooper killing.

  “Assume,” I said, my tone growing colder, my anger simmering. “I don't fucking pay you to assume. I want evidence Jones, clear fucking evidence. Get me proof.”

  His eyes never showed any sign of intimidation. He simply nodded and took another sip of his whiskey. “Yes Mr Logan, I'll do just that.”

  Chapter 8 - Elle

  Elle

  The excitement in Tess' body was palpable. I'd realized, in the short time I'd known her, that she wore her heart on her sleeve. She was like a kid at Christmas, her smile infectious.

  I was sat on her bed as she paraded around in a beautiful new dress.

  “What do you think, do you think he'll like it?”

  “Tess you look stunning, you always do. He'd have to be gay not to like it.”

  The door opened and Alice walked in, herself wearing a gorgeous dress that showed off the curve of her body. She had a bottle of champagne in hand, much like the first night I'd moved in. Like that night, I was about to see the brothers Logan once again.

  “Gimme that,” said Tess, bouncing over and snatching the bottle from her hands. “I don't want you spilling that on my floor!”

  Alice looked at her with a feigned face of thunder, mumbling under her breath as Tess took the bottle away from her.

  “She may look like a Princess Elle, but she grew up a pauper!” Tess laughed. “She's a true life Cinderella! Unfortunately, though, she hasn't quite learned how to open a champagne bottle without spilling half the contents!”

  She laughed to herself as she walked over to her desk and popped the cork, sending Alice a knowing look as the top of the bottle issued a wisp of mist. “You see, that's the way to do it, no frothing foam on the floor!”

  “God she's insufferable sometimes,” said Alice, sitting down next to me on the bed as Tess filled the glasses. “I don't know how I've put up with her for so long.”

  Had I just moved in I'd probably have
thought she was serious. But I'd spent enough time around the two of them by now to realize that this was just their relationship. Tess was the playful one, Alice the serious one. It made for some amusing comedy from an onlookers perspective.

  “So you look hot,” Alice continued, eyeing me up and down. “Your hair looks amazing, did you get it done?”

  “Today, yeah. Needed a bit of color.”

  “Well it looks great babe. They'll be lots of young eligible guys there tonight, so good timing!”

  I smiled. There was only one guy I was looking to impress.

  “Here we go girls.” Tess handed us each a glass. “Happy birthday to the twins. Hopefully Zack will enjoy my present for him.”

  I saw Alice's face screw up a bit. “You got him a gift?”

  Tess had this cheeky grin on her face. “Kind of.”

  “What is it?”

  “It's not for public consumption Alice, let's leave it at that.”

  “OK, say no more,” said Alice quickly. “I really don't wanna know.”

  Tess smiled as she took a sip of her champagne. I mean, I didn't want to use the word slut, but she certainly had a voracious interest in guys. It looked like Zack was just her latest target.

  I felt kinda odd to have been invited to be honest. I mean, I had only met the twins once the night I'd arrived, and we didn't exactly hit it off. Alice had told me that she could bring some friends, though, so invited me and Tess. That's if Zack hadn't invited Tess himself. I wasn't sure if that was the case or not.

  Zack and Cade were hosting a birthday party at this fancy hotel in town, the Globe or something. I didn't know much about it, except that it was a black tie affair. As soon as I'd learned about it I was straight into town to buy a suitable dress. It almost crippled my budget for the month, but hey ho, needs must. The money these guys had I didn't want to look out of place. Alice and Tess certainly wouldn't the way they were dressed. They both looked stunning.

  We sank our champagne and listened to music for the next hour. I must have had a smile plastered on my face the entire time. It was just so liberating to be sat here with these two girls. They were funny, popular, sweet, and two of the friendliest girls I'd ever met. I was just grateful that I'd landed on my feet so well coming here. I hadn't expected things to turn out like this.

  We took a limo to the hotel, paid for by Tess. Her pockets seemed to be endlessly deep. Rich parents I guess.

  Alice went slightly quiet as we arrived, her eyes dropping a bit as we entered into the hotel lobby. I thought about asking her but, frankly, I knew she'd give me nothing. I'd never met someone who bottled things up so well. Or maybe I was just imagining it.

  A glass and a half of champagne down. I've done a lot more on a lot less.

  The hotel was magnificent. It had this aura of total luxury about it. Everything on the inside just oozed money. The crystal chandelier, the lush red carpet, the golden lighting fixtures: it was all so grand.

  I could see Alice's eyes stay low as we continued into the lobby, her head drooping slightly, as if she was trying to obscure her face. She dropped back behind Tess and I as we walked in, the both of us looking around at the amazing space within. Alice didn't seem in the slightest bit interested.

  Tess waltzed straight up towards the front desk and spoke to one of the reception staff. I followed, leaving Alice to wander off to the left.

  “We're here for the Logan birthday,” Tess said, “where is it?”

  “Ah,” said the girl behind the desk, “it's just over towards your left there. Down the corridor towards the main hall.”

  We walked off and joined Alice as she loitered at the side of the room, casting her gaze over a painting on the wall.

  “This way babe,” Tess said, grabbing her attention.

  We walked down the corridor and towards a door at the end. There was a man outside holding a chart.

  “Names.”

  “Tess Taylor, Alice Newton, and Elle...erm Elle, what's your surname?”

  “Harper.”

  “And Elle Harper.”

  The man ran his eyes over what seemed to be a very long list and ticked our names off as he went. “OK, in you go.”

  He opened the double doors and a wide space appeared before our eyes. It was a ballroom of some kind, a stage at the end and a number of tables set up in the middle. Right in the center was a champagne fountain, the golden liquid trickling down into waiting glasses. Waiters shot this way and that, some with trays of champagne, others with a range of canapes.

  I ran my eyes over the other people there. Most were young, attractive women and men standing in groups and couples. The women wore all sorts of stunning dresses, many sparkling in silver and gold jewelry. The men stood in their well fitted tuxedos, most of them clean cut and looking sharp.

  It was a scene of beautiful people, one that I knew Alice and Tess would fit right into. I wasn't so sure about myself. This wasn't the sort of thing I was used to, or overly comfortable with.

  I could feel the nerves tingling in my body as I looked out over the scene, and was grateful when a waiter approached carrying a tray of champagne glasses. I quickly snatched one off it, with a couple of funny looks from Alice and Tess, and gulped down a generous portion.

  “Easy now Elle,” said Tess, “you've gotta pace yourself here. Come on, lets take a look at where we're sitting.”

  Tess turned towards the board positioned near the main doors and eagerly searched for her name. I glanced back at Alice, who gazed into the crowd. She seemed seriously preoccupied with something.

  “Hey, here we are. Elle, you and me are together. Alice, you're at another table with Kyle.”

  We turned together to see that she was no longer with us. She'd descended into the crowd, no doubt searching for her man.

  Tess smiled at me knowingly. “Guess its just me and you then babe!”

  Yeah, until you latch onto Zack. Then I'll be all alone.

  ....

  My prophesy came to pass.

  Not long after Alice had disappeared into the crowd the bell went for us to take our seats for dinner. It was much more formal than I'd have imagined, kinda like a wedding reception. I didn't think two guys turning 23 would choose to celebrate their birthday in such a way.

  But they did, and there I was, sat there at a table, surrounded by beautiful people I didn't know. They weren't like the people I'd met at college, or the girls I was meeting in dance class. No, these people had a different air about them.

  One of money. One of arrogance. One of superiority.

  It wasn't directed at me, but it infected the air, made me choke. They probably thought I was just another one of them, another rich kid, another one of the gang.

  Luckily I had Tess next to me, so we spent most of the dinner chatting between ourselves. Call me antisocial, call me what you want: I didn't want to talk to these people much. Maybe the other tables were nicer, I don't know.

  All I knew was that this one was replete with the sort of people I'd avoided all my life.

  But then, dinner didn't last long, and soon the evening was descending into something more akin to how I'd expect a 23 year old to bring in their next year.

  The booze began to flow, makeshift bars on either side of the room well stocked with alcohol. People stood and mingled among the conceited masses, the noise in the room beginning to build as the night wore on.

  Tess abandoned me, as expected, winding her way towards Zack. I knew she liked him, but I kinda hoped that he'd give her the cold shoulder, tell her to do one. Then, maybe, she'd come back to keep me company.

  But she didn't.

  A growing sense of awkwardness began developing inside me as I sat there at my table, unable or unwilling to mingle. I didn't fit in here, not with these people. I felt completely out of place.

  I poured myself another glass of wine from a bottle on the table, filling my glass to the brim with white. When in doubt, drink. It was my reaction in awkward social situations like this
.

  I caught glimpse of Alice and Kyle, the two of them sitting to one side. They looked so loved up, it was kinda sweet. Or was she crying? I couldn't be sure from where I was. She had her head in his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her, a stern look on his face. That look never seemed to dissipate from it.

  “I see you managed to replace your handbag?”

  The voice shot me out of my stupor. I turned to my left to see Crash standing above me, a smile showing off his beautiful white teeth. He looked incredible in his tux. James Bond eat your fucking heart out.

  A smile grew quickly on my face at the sight of him. Someone I knew. Thank God.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” he asked, his hand resting on top of the chair next to me, preparing to pull it out.

  I nodded. “Please.”

  Please save me.

  He sat down next to me, his cologne floating across the short gap between us and drifting up my nose. His eyes settled on me, a friendly look to them. Yet inside those hazel browns I could see turmoil.

  “I wasn't expecting to see you here,” he said.

  I couldn't tell whether he was glad about it or not. I felt an urge to apologize, as if I didn't belong. That's how I felt anyway.

  “Um, Alice invited me. I hope that's OK?”

  “It's not my party,” he said, “I'm just a guest, like you. I have no control over who comes.”

  He took a sip of his drink, his eyes staying on mine the whole time.

  “How come you're sitting here all alone?”

  I lowered my eyes and sucked up some wine. I had no answer for him. I couldn't say it was because I thought the people here were conceited and arrogant. I didn't want to tell him the real truth - because I was a shy little girl with no aptitude for large social functions like this. Someone who needed to ply themselves full of wine to feel comfortable, often resulting in embarrassment and humiliation the following morning.

  No, I couldn't do any of that. All I could do was lie.

  “Just taking a break,” I said, my eyes still unable to meet his full on.

  I glanced back at him as his smile deepened. “Long break,” he said, his tone dry.