by Elin Barnes
“I haven’t heard any names on the news, but he’s not picking up my calls. Is your sister one of the six . . . ?”
“Worried about your investment?”
“I’m not that cold.” His voice had lost its edge for the first time since they’d started talking. “I actually care for Belle. She’s a good girl.”
Saffron tasted bile in her mouth. She wanted to get up and punch him square in the face. He didn’t care about her sister. It made her feel sick that he was trying to convince her that he did.
“What’s his name, the guy you set her up with? What do you know about him? Where does he live?” she asked, pushing her rage away.
“His name’s Blake. He’s been a client for a year or so. He’s one of those hotshots from Silicon Valley. I have no clue where he lives.”
Blake, Saffron thought. That matched the B on Aislin’s calendar.
“What company?”
“I’m on a strict need-to-know basis. And where he works is something I don’t need to know. He has a lot of money to burn, though. Old money, if you know what I mean.”
“Are all your girls college students?”
“No. Some of them have very successful careers and they do this for fun, earning a nice bonus on the side.”
Madam X puffed his chest a little. He was proud of his brood.
“So if you don’t know where your clients work, how do you ensure you don’t send a career woman to somebody she may know professionally?”
X paused. He raised his almost empty mojito to Saffron. “Smart. You sure you don’t want a side job?”
“What I want is to know where this Blake guy works.”
“He’s some VP or something at a company called NanoQ.”
Saffron knew the name. It was a fairly big company. “And you’re sure you don’t have his last name?”
“I’m sure.”
“He pays with cash?”
“Oh, sweetie, nobody pays with cash these days. We do exchange of goods. It’s like a very expensive white-elephant gift party.”
I knew that. Saffron remembered the huge rock shining on Aislin’s middle finger when they met for drinks the other day.
“I want you to do something for me.”
X looked more curious than annoyed.
“You know, in exchange for me not going to the police,” Saffron added.
“Right,” he said. “What is it that you want?”
“Call Blake and tell him you need to meet him.”
“Oh, no. He would never believe that.”
“Make up something believable.”
“Don’t be stupid. Instead of being so pushy and antagonistic—which, by the way, doesn’t suit you—you could try to be nicer. You’ll probably get further in life.” After a wink, X said, “You know, the bees, honey, vinegar and all that.”
Saffron tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. “Okay . . .” she conceded.
“Blake has his regular appointment tonight. He hasn’t called to cancel, and he’s normally very good about that.” He paused, probably curious to find out how his proposal would settle with Saffron. “Mind you, I don’t know if he’s still alive, so he’ll either show up or he won’t.” X eyed Saffron before he continued: “You can go instead of his regular girl and try to get some answers.”
Saffron’s eyes opened wide. She’d never expected this.
“Why would he talk to me?” she asked.
“I’m sure you’ll find a way.” He leaned against the back of the velvet sofa.
Saffron thought about it. It was crazy, but what else could she do?
“I care about Aislin. I hope she’s okay. If anybody can find her besides the police, that person is you,” X said.
Saffron nodded. “She’s my little sister.”
“I also have a little sister. She’s a pain in the ass,” he shared.
They smiled at each other. For the first time since they’d started talking, Saffron felt that she was not fighting this fight alone anymore.
Saffron stood to leave.
“Can I ask you a question?” Madam X asked.
Saffron nodded.
“Do you really have a cop boyfriend?”
Saffron smiled. “Yes.”
“Why isn’t he looking for Aislin?”
“Because I don’t want him to know what she does for a living.”
Madam X nodded.
Saffron started walking away, but before she got too far she turned. “What’s your real name?”
“Constantine.”
“Madam X suits you better,” she teased.
He lifted his glass and smiled.
Saffron walked by the two goons and nodded good-bye.
Chapter 50
Saffron went to the hospital to see Jon before heading over to Darcy’s place. She crossed paths with several officers who had come to show their support.
As she walked in the room, her phone rang. She pressed her purse against her body, trying to muffle the sound. She mouthed, “I’m sorry,” to Jon’s parents and walked back out into the hallway.
“Yes?”
It was Madam X. A mixture of hope and fear made her stomach churn.
“You’re on for tonight,” X said.
“Did you ask him what happened?”
“I tried.”
“And?”
“He changed the subject. So I didn’t push it. I didn’t want him to cancel.”
“Yeah, that would have been worse.”
“Saffron . . .” X said.
“Yeah?”
“You know that once you’ve gone through that door, there’s no coming back.”
Saffron remained silent. She’d asked herself what the hell she was doing, but forced herself to stop because she didn’t want to get even more scared. She had to find her sister, and that was all there was to it.
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Don’t you have a cop boyfriend?”
“And tell him my sister’s a prostitute? He would have to arrest her.”
“Only if he catches her in the act. But the point is that he would have to find her first.”
Saffron paused. She’d thought about that too. “I know. Let me try this. If it doesn’t work, I’ll tell Darcy.”
“I would’ve never pegged you for a lesbian.” He sounded genuinely surprised. “You sure you don’t want a side job? The market for girl-on-girl is skyrocketing.”
“Darcy’s a man.”
“Oh, right. I guess I can’t be that surprised.”
“Exactly, Constantine, a.k.a. Madam X.”
Saffron could feel his smile at the other end of the phone. There was nothing else to be said, but neither wanted to hang up.
“I’ll see you there,” X finally said.
“What? Why? As my chaperone?” Saffron asked. “Won’t he be weirded out if he sees you there?”
“I’ll make the intros. I’ll feed him some bullshit about wanting to ensure he’s happy with the new girl, since his regular couldn’t make it at the last minute.” After a moment, he added, “This guy’s bad news. I want to see his face when he shows up.”
“And what? Threaten him with a mojito straw if he looks at you the wrong way?” Saffron asked.
“Very funny, missy. Don’t let the five-thousand-dollar suit fool you. I come from a rough neighborhood.”
“Then why do you need those goons?” She thought about the two guys she saw earlier watching X’s every move.
“Honey, because now I can afford to pay somebody else to do the dirty work.”
Saffron smiled. The perfect manicured hands, the slightly gay mannerisms, and the gorgeous clothes hid the rough edges well.
“Okay, meet me at Belle’s. We need to pick your outfit,” he said, and before she could protest, the line went dead.
Chapter 51
Darcy had been trying to reach Saffron for the past couple hours. When the beep ended, he left another message: “Hey, babe, not sure if you’re coming
tonight, but I still have a few more hours here.” He paused for a second. He wanted to say something else but finally settled for, “It would be good to see you.”
He looked over and saw Sorensen pecking at his keyboard. Darcy sat on his chair and started organizing his thoughts about the multiple homicide case. He knew he would have to start producing some results fast, or everybody would jump on his back.
The files of the victims made a neat pile on the left side of his desk. He grabbed the first one. The victim’s name was Eva Yung. She was twenty-four, a part-time student at Santa Clara University, majoring in art history. Apparently she didn’t have a job, but she was able to afford a two-thousand-dollar-a-month apartment. He looked at the crime scene photos. He read the ME’s report. Cause of death: exsanguination caused by a single gunshot wound to the head.
The second file was for Oscar Summers. He was forty-nine. Overweight. Was married to Joslyn Summers, another victim. Cause of death: exsanguination caused by a single gunshot wound to the head. He had no children. His financials looked in order. He was a very successful venture capitalist. Prima facie, there was nothing fishy with his money. He wrote down all the information on the board and moved to the next one.
Sandra Howell—the one found alone in the other room. She was another beautiful young woman, also a student, but she was going to Berkeley. No job, so probably paying the tuition by being an escort. Same cause of death, different gun, confirmed by Rachel.
The rest were carbon copies of these reports. Different name, man or woman, either escort or highly successful businessman killed by a bullet through the brain. The last two were the bouncer and the older woman in the suit. They were neither rich nor successful. Darcy made a mental note to dig a bit deeper into their known associates in case there was something fishy, but he was pretty sure they were just collateral damage.
Darcy pinned DMV photos on the board and wrote out the details of each victim. As soon as he was done, he started working on the owner of the house. Mr. Carlos de la Rosa was MIA. He was forty-three, a multimillionaire, and one of the founders of McKenzie & Shaw LLP.
What? Darcy stood and walked to Sorensen’s desk.
“What was the name of the law firm Suresh Malik worked for?” he asked, already knowing the answer.
“McKenzie & Shaw,” Sorensen said, not looking up at him.
“Is his file here?” Darcy asked, leafing through his partner’s papers.
“What’re you looking for?” Sorensen planted a brawny hand on top of the files, halting Darcy’s riffling.
“It’s the company the host of my multiple homicide founded. Who, by the way, is missing.”
“Are you sure?”
“That’s what I was trying to find out,” he said, looking down at Sorensen’s hand, still safeguarding the pile.
Sorensen removed it, and Darcy grabbed all the files. He picked Malik’s and opened it on Sorensen’s desk, next to the keyboard.
“Yep,” Darcy said, tapping at the company’s name in his own file.
Sorensen looked at Darcy’s board, then back at his partner and asked, “What the hell’s going on here?”
Chapter 52
Saffron pulled down the red dress. It was too tight and too short. Aislin was a size or two smaller than her, so she felt stuffed in the outfit Madam X had picked out for her.
“This is not attractive,” she protested.
X covered his ears and said, “I can’t hear you,” for the nth time.
“No, seriously. I don’t look like a high-class call girl. I look like a sausage.” Saffron pulled the dress down again.
“You need to stop doing that. You need to quit the whining, and you need to straighten your back.” He waited until Saffron complied. “Now you need to put one foot in front of the other so your hips sway when you walk.”
“What?” Saffron stopped walking.
“Yes, sweetie, walk as if you were on a rope, one foot in front of the other.” X patted her butt as if to encourage her to try.
Saffron visualized a white rope. After a couple steps, her hips did sway. She felt ridiculous. At first she looked clunky, but the more she did it, the easier it seemed.
By the time they walked into the Vortex, the bar at the top of the Zenix Hotel, she had mastered the move.
Several men turned to look at her. Saffron’s first reaction was to grab the hem of the dress and pull it down one more time. Before she had a chance X whispered, “Don’t you dare.”
Saffron almost laughed. This helped her relax a little. She flipped her hair and followed the host to a table in the corner.
“I specifically requested this one so we can watch the whole place.” X said sitting next to her with his back to the wall.
They ordered two flutes of brut and waited.
The bench was covered by a cushion that matched the backrest on the wall. Saffron leaned against it and noticed that her skirt did not slide with the rest of her legs when she slouched. She straightened her posture and pulled the skirt down. It barely came to midthigh.
X checked her out and said, “Leave it where it is, or he’ll think I sent a nun.”
Saffron forced her hands away from her bare legs and scanned the restaurant. They had a panoramic view of the entire place but were far enough away from others to be able to talk freely.
“He’s not here yet,” X said.
Saffron tasted the bubbly. It was citrusy and light. “How many of these men are here to meet pros?” she asked.
X scanned the room. “At least four are clients of mine.”
“No shit.”
“Yep.”
“How many girls do you have?”
Madam X eyed her as if gauging whether Saffron was fishing for information or genuinely curious. “I have eleven regulars. And another three who do sporadic jobs.”
“So how does this really work?”
“Are you interested in an interview?” X teased her.
“Does it pay well?”
“You’ve seen your sister’s closet.”
“What if I don’t want clothes?”
“Let me rephrase. The Guccis, Valentinos, Pradas, Armanis, et cetera, are gifts on top of the payment.”
“Damn,” Saffron said. “There’s real money in this business.”
“Well, you have to make it all when you are young and beautiful. If not, you’ll end up in a corner hailing johns driving by.”
“Nice image.”
“Indeed.”
A tall, blondish man with an angular face and a dimple on his chin walked toward them.
X stood to greet him, but before he could speak, Blake said, “Constantine, I didn’t expect to see you here.” His eyes never left Saffron.
“Blake, it’s always a pleasure to see you. Please meet Cassandra.”
He kissed Saffron’s hand and left a moist spot. She had to fight the urge to wipe it off.
“Jaz got food poisoning, so I thought you might enjoy the company of somebody new,” X explained, and then fed him the bullshit line “I wanted to personally ensure Cassandra exceeds your expectations.”
Blake nodded very slowly after he gave Saffron a once-over. She worried he would think she was too old for him. It had never occurred to her to even ask, but he was probably five years younger than she was. He started smiling. Saffron shivered, wondering again what the hell she was getting herself into.
“Cassandra does,” he finally said as if she weren’t there.
X excused himself and left them alone. Blake sat next to her and ordered a dry vodka martini.
“So, Cassandra, tell me: What’s your favorite color?”
What?she thought. Out of a million questions she’d prepared for, this wasn’t one of them. She took a sip of her bubbly, faked the same smile she had for posing on photos and said, “Royal blue of course.”
“I would have said red.” He looked her up and down again.
“I only wear red to throw people off when they ask me that question.” She i
nterlaced her fingers on top of the table to avoid covering her exposed décolletage with her hands.
“How’s that working for you?”
“Flawlessly.”
Blake raised his cocktail to her. She toasted and finished her drink.
“Another one?” he asked, already summoning the bartender.
“I’m okay for now. Thank you.”
He asked for the tab and finished his drink in two gulps. Once he’d paid, he said, “Shall we?”
Saffron nodded and swallowed hard. She stood but didn’t trust herself to move yet. Blake put his arm around her waist as they walked through the bar. It took all she had to not squirm away from his touch.
He called the elevator and they got in. It was empty. Saffron looked up to see if she could spot the camera. She wasn’t sure there was one, but she hoped there was and it was recording.
The doors opened on the fifteenth floor, and a floor-to-ceiling mirror greeted them with their own reflections. Saffron saw she looked scared. She tried to relax her facial muscles by forcing a smile. She realized he’d been watching her the entire time.
The hallway was empty.
“First time?” he asked.
She could use the truth to her advantage instead of trying to conceal it and failing miserably. “Yes,” she said, no longer trying to hide her fear.
He opened the door and let her go in first. The room was dark, but through the window she could see the blanket of lights of the beautiful valley at night. Saffron heard the door close and the switch of the light. The view outside disappeared, and she winced. Saffron turned to face Blake and realized he was standing between her and the door. Not the way she wanted it. She sat on the bed, hoping to lead him away from her exit route.
“Anything to drink?” he asked, walking past her and opening the minibar.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she said, standing up as soon as he’d gone past her.
He kneeled down, inspecting the contents of the little fridge.
The path to the door was now clear.
Holding two tiny bottles of rum, he said, “I guess rum and Coke it is.”
He decanted the contents in two glasses and then grabbed the red can.
