“Where do we start? I’m not familiar with the districts in Houston.”
“We’re gonna start by interviewing the hotel employees again. If she’s a pro and works that area, somebody knows her.”
We pulled up to the Four Seasons a few minutes later. “Must have been a high-end hooker,” I said.
“That’s what you get when you’re a lawyer.”
We walked inside, and Tip pointed to one of the bellhops. “Didn’t I see you yesterday?”
“I talked to the other officer,” the bellhop said.
Tip handed him a card. “Tip Denton. This is my partner, Connie Gianelli. We’ve got a few more questions.”
“I’m supposed to take these to a room,” he said, gesturing to a cart loaded with luggage.
“Go on. We’ll wait.”
When the bellhop returned, Tip handed him a picture from the security cameras. “Have you seen her before?”
He nodded. “A few times, usually with different guys. Middle-aged guys.”
“Any special day or time?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Not that I can think of. She was here more than most. Maybe once a week.”
Tip squeezed in close and gestured toward the concierge. “Does he know her?”
“Oh, he knows her,” the kid said, and smiled.
“Knows her?” I asked.
He flashed big, white teeth. “I’m talkin’ knows her, like intimate. Carnal-type knowledge.”
Tip reached into his pocket and drew out a fifty-dollar bill. He waved it in front of the bellhop then wrapped the bill around one of his contact cards. “If you remember anything else, there might be another Grant for you.”
I smiled. The kid probably didn’t know what a Grant was, but he definitely recognized the big five-oh on the bill. Tip referred to all bills by the names of the faces on them—Jacksons, Grants, and Franklins were his favorites when dealing with informants.
We talked to a few more employees, mostly bellhops, and we grilled the desk clerk again, but he gave us nothing new.
“Time we get intimate with the concierge,” I said.
“Shoot, I bet he tells us what we need right off,” Tip said, and he didn’t even laugh.
I showed the concierge my badge. “Detectives Gianelli and Denton. We have questions about the incident in room 614.”
He moved to the side, and his eyes darted around the room. “I told the other policeman everything I know.”
I moved to the left, planting myself in front of him. Then I leaned on his desk. “That was one of the uniformed officers, and I understand that you’ve already talked to him, but my partner and I are stuck with this case, so you’ll have to tell it all again.”
“If you insist,” he said, as if we were asking him to do taxes.
“Let’s start out with your name,” I said. “And how long you’ve been working here.”
“Sebastian Dubois.” He shot Tip a look then puffed himself up. “And as I told the other officer, this…incident…didn’t happen on my shift.” The way he said it implied that it wouldn’t have happened if he’d been working.
“Are you saying you wouldn’t have let her check in with Mr. Lipscomb?”
He blushed. “I didn’t say that. It’s simply…”
I waited. When he didn’t answer after a few seconds I said, “How much did she give you?”
The skin on his forehead bunched into wrinkles. “What?”
Tip stepped forward, getting close to Sebastian. “We don’t have time for your shit. Give us her name and everything you know, or we’ll take you downtown and arrest you for aiding and abetting prostitution.”
Sebastian maintained his indignant look. It was a damn good look. He must have practiced since he was a kid. It was so good, it probably worked on most people. “I’m not some pimp on the corner that you can frighten. I’ve been—”
Tip grabbed Sebastian by the arm and spun him out from behind the desk. He slapped the cuffs on Sebastian’s left wrist then pulled his right arm back and closed the second cuff on that wrist. Panicked, Sebastian offered up the girl before Tip got through, ‘You have the right to remain silent.’
“Tiffany!” Sebastian said. “Her name is Tiffany—as far as I know. She comes here a lot.”
Tip turned him to face us. “What’s she do here?”
Sebastian cast worried looks around the lobby. People were beginning to stare. “Can’t we take these cuffs off? It’s embarrassing.”
“But pimping a young girl isn’t embarrassing?” I said.
Sebastian, for all his pomp, was like most people. Embarrassment was a public thing. He wouldn’t get embarrassed by doing something wrong, only by getting caught. Uncle Dominic raised me to believe that embarrassment was a personal thing.
You are the only one who can embarrass yourself, he’d said.
I crowded Sebastian’s space. “How do we find her?”
“I can reach her,” he said.
“You have a phone number?”
Sebastian shook his head. “She uses a pager. A lot of the girls do.”
“What’s the process?” Tip asked.
“If I have someone…interested, I page her.”
“Do it,” I said, and removed the cuffs.
“She’ll suspect something if I call this early.”
“Do it,” Tip said.
His command must have carried more weight than mine; Sebastian began dialing. The fact that he didn’t have to look up her number told me that he’d done this more than a few times. We waited twenty minutes but she didn’t call back.
“How long does it usually take?” I asked.
“Normally just a few minutes.”
“Try her again,” Tip said.
After another fifteen minutes, Tip handed one of his cards to Sebastian. “Call if you hear anything.”
The muscles in his face relaxed. “I will.”
“You know where we can find her?” I asked.
He seemed to think for a few seconds before saying, “Down by the bus station, there’s an old house converted into boarding rooms. A few of the girls stay there.”
“You have an address?”
“No, but if you ask around, someone’s bound to know.”
Before we left, I pulled him aside. “If we find even a little lie in what you’ve told us, we’ll make sure you lose this cushy job. I’m certain the Four Seasons doesn’t want a pimp working for them.”
He reached down and straightened his collar. “I told you everything.”
It took five minutes to get to the bus station and about half an hour to locate the house. Tip parked behind an old Ford pickup loaded with what looked like junk from a garage sale. A black girl who couldn’t have been more than eighteen sat on the front porch, wearing cutoff shorts and a top that looked like a bra.
She shot us a look, then pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “Who you lookin’ for?”
Tip flashed her a smile. “Who said we’re looking?”
“Only reason cops come here is to bust somebody or get some action.” She glanced my way and said, “Since she’s with you, I figure you’re here to bust somebody.”
“We’re looking for Tiffany,” I said. “But not to bust her.”
She laughed, the cynical laugh of the street people. “Just want to talk, huh?” She looked straight at me. “Don’t know no Tiffany.”
“She lives here,” Tip said.
“Big house,” the girl said.
I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see another young black girl carrying a sack of groceries. She looked bad, like she’d been knocked around a bit.
“They giving you trouble, Teesh?”
“Askin’ about somebody named Tiffany,” Teesh said.
The new girl was even skinnier than the one on the porch. I pulled out my badge. “Connie Gianelli,” I said. “This is my partner, Tip Denton.”
She handed the bag to Teesh. “Take these up. I’ll talk to them.”
�
�You know Tiffany?” I asked.
“What’d she do?”
“Don’t know that she did anything, but we found a body in a hotel, and Tiffany was the last one seen with him.”
The girl shook her head. “Tiffany wouldn’t do that.”
“I understand, but we still need to talk with her.”
“Ain’t seen her in two days,” the girl said.
“We just need to talk,” Tip said. “What’s your name, anyway? I don’t like talking to someone I don’t know.”
The girl pulled a mint from her pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. “Not that we’ll be doin’ a lot of talkin’, but I’m called LaDonna.” She stared at Tip. “You got a card? If not, write down your number, and I’ll tell Tiff to call if I see her.”
I moved a step closer to her. “Look, we’ve got a dead man, and we need to know what happened. As long as Tiffany didn’t do it, we’re good. She could have fucked him to death, and I’m okay with that. We’ve just got a case to close, and I need to find a reason why this guy died. If Tiffany didn’t do it, she doesn’t need to worry. And she doesn’t need to run.”
“She might not need to run, but she ran.”
“When? Do you know where to?”
She shook her head. “I came home and found her gone. She must’ve been in a hurry, ’cause she only took half her clothes.”
“When was this?” Tip asked.
“Night before last.”
“We need to check her room,” I said.
The girl cocked her head and looked at me. “You carrying a warrant, or are you just crazy? Tiffany lives with me, and I ain’t letting you in.”
“We can get a warrant,” Tip said, “but it’d be a lot easier if you invited us in for coffee and maybe let us look around.”
She cocked her head again and gave Tip a look. “Coffee? That’s all? Sure you don’t want to leave your partner out here?”
“No, but I’ll make you a deal. I’ll donate fifty bucks to your favorite charity if you invite us up for coffee or tea.”
“Charity? Now I know you’re crazy. You think I got a charity?”
“I’m guessing you might. I had one guy who said his favorite charity was himself, so when I gave him a fifty, that’s who he donated to.”
She narrowed her eyes and stared at Tip. I did the same.
“To himself?” she said. “You’re gonna give me fifty dollars?”
“Or I can get a warrant.”
She cracked a big smile. “Would you detectives like to come up for tea?”
As we followed LaDonna in, Tip whispered, “You do the talking, Gianelli.”
The apartment was one big room that had been converted into two bedrooms and a tiny kitchen and bathroom. Tiffany’s room had a standup closet—the kind you’d buy at Ikea—plus a dresser, bed, and a few bare walls. A few clothes hung in the closet, and a few pairs of panties and socks lay in the top drawer of the dresser. The rest of the drawers were empty.
“You don’t know where she might be?” I asked.
“No idea. I didn’t see her before she left.”
“When was the last time you did see her?”
“Day of her big deal. She cleaned out that night.”
I looked over at her. “What big deal?”
“Tiffany had a big client that night.”
“How do you know?”
“She told me.”
“And Tiffany wouldn’t lie?” I said.
“Not to me she wouldn’t. Besides, I had a guy who wanted two girls, and this dude was payin’ two hundred each. Tiff said that’d be nothin’ compared to what her client was paying.”
“What time did she tell you all that?”
“Early. I’m talkin’ right after lunch. I remember because I got up only about an hour before.”
“And you haven’t seen her since?” I said.
She shook her head. “I got home about five in the morning, and her shit was gone.”
“Tiffany have any relatives you know of? Other friends?”
“Nobody but us, far as I know.”
“You know where she was from?” Tip asked.
“I don’t know where she was from, but she used to live in Nashville for a while.”
That piqued my interest. Anything we could get on this girl would help. I moved closer. “What makes you say that?”
“She was always talkin’ ’bout how her father dragged her whole family down there lookin’ for a Country music career, and all he found was the bottle.” LaDonna shook her head. “Could’ve found that anywhere.”
“You know when that was? Or where she came from before that?”
She shoved another mint in her mouth and shook her head again. “Nashville’s all I know about her. She never said much more than that.”
I looked at the girl. She was junkie thin and had the track marks to prove it. Her left eye was half closed, probably from a John who’d gotten too rough. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“Here it comes,” she said.
“Just asking.”
“Already told you. It’s LaDonna.”
“I know what you told us. I’m talking about your real name.”
She looked at the floor. “Real names don’t matter.”
“But they do,” I said. “Your name is who you are.” I turned to Tip. “Give me one of your cards.”
“I already gave her one,” he said.
“Give me a card, Tip.”
He placed a card in my outstretched hand, and I wrote my name and number on it. “LaDonna, call me if you ever need something. I owe you one.” Then I said to Tip, “Let’s go.”
LaDonna got a look on her face as if I’d shocked her. “You ain’t like them others. Most of the bitch cops look down on us, and the men want tricks for free.”
“I definitely don’t want the tricks. As to the other, I’ve got an uncle who once told me never to judge another person. He said that anybody could end up a king or a pauper, alive or dead, depending on which path they choose. And you choose paths every day.”
“Damn, girl. Gonna have to light one up to digest that.”
“Wait till I leave, okay?”
LaDonna laughed. “Deal.”
“And just so you know, we’ll be sending a tech down here to dust for Tiffany’s prints. That okay?”
“Make sure they don’t come before noon.”
As Tip and I walked down the steps, I thought about LaDonna. Not for the first time, I wondered if Uncle Dominic knew what he was doing. He might not run prostitutes, but everything he did supported it—drugs, gambling, corruption.
Does he know what he’s doing to little girls?
We got in the car, with Tip driving again.
“You talk to the lawyer’s partners yet?” I asked.
“Not yet. I wasn’t in a rush because it looked like a heart attack. It still does, but now we have a missing prostitute to go with it.”
“Maybe she simply got spooked and took off,” I said. “Went back to Nashville or wherever she came from.”
“Maybe,” Tip said, “but I still want to talk to the partners. It’s time we found out how well Mr. Lipscomb knew Tiffany.”
I looked at my watch. “That’ll have to wait until tomorrow. It’s been a long day.”
“Sissy,” Tip said.
“Pussy,” I shot back.
He laughed.
A couple of minutes later, he laughed some more.
Chapter 9
Dead for Sure
El Terrible woke at 4:00 AM, made the bed, and arranged clothes for the day. Dressing came first, and then packing what was needed into a small bag—nurse scrubs, name badge and hospital ID, and nurse shoes. Coffee was next, followed by two thin-bladed knives. El Terrible walked to the car then drove to the hospital, parking two blocks away, far from the prying eyes of surveillance cameras or inquisitive guards.
Fifteen minutes later, when morning traffic was heaviest, Nurse Terrible joined a small group
entering the hospital. Nurse Terrible walked down the long, sanitary hall, keeping perfect stride, blending with the traffic. It was the six o’clock shift on Friday, and everyone seemed to be in a rush. Nurse Terrible suspected it had more to do with anticipating the weekend than it did with administering care to the sick.
Nurse Terrible turned right, passed the cafeteria, made a stop at the restroom to change clothes, took an elevator to the fourth floor, and then completed the short walk to the ICU. The nurse pushed open the double doors, careful not to leave fingerprints. It only took a few seconds to locate Martin’s room. After checking to make sure no one was looking, the nurse entered. Martin lay on the bed, asleep. It would be easy to inject something into the IV bag and leave before he woke, but that wouldn’t send the right message. Besides, Nurse Terrible hadn’t gotten into this business for the security; risk came with the job.
Nurse Terrible put on gloves, prepared a syringe, then covered Martin’s mouth with duct tape. While taping Martin’s hands and legs to the bed rails, he stirred, fear in his eyes.
Nurse Terrible leaned close and whispered, “You should have listened.”
He squirmed, tried to get up, but Nurse Terrible’s arms lay across Martin’s throat. Next, the nurse located a good vein in Martin’s neck and injected a few milliliters of ketamine. Martin would be out in seconds and feel no pain.
Once Martin had succumbed, the nurse took a knife from the pocket in the front of the uniform, opened it to reveal a four-inch blade, and jammed it into Martin’s left eye, but not far enough to kill him. Then the nurse opened another blade and shoved it into his right eye. Señor Martin had learned his lesson, and El Terrible had earned a small fortune.
Nurse Terrible exited the hospital the same way, making sure to avoid the only two cameras that might reveal a face. After getting into the car, the nurse headed toward the house.
There was still a lot of work to do.
***
Rosalee pulled the pillow off her head and reached to shake her husband. “Phone, Ribs. Get up.”
Ribs ran his hand over the nightstand until he found his phone. He hated the sound of it ringing in the morning. “Delgado.”
“Go to the hospital,” Coop said. “Your suspect’s dead.”
Bullet From Dominic Page 6
