by Don Donovan
"Yeah, yeah. I be ready."
"All right," Silvana said. "For starters, what can you tell me about an escort service called Magic City Suites?"
"Not too much," G-Man said. "They high end, you know what I'm sayin'?"
"I know they're a lot higher end than anything you've got," Silvana said, throwing a glance Laquita's way. Laquita was still overflowing with attitude, mumbling curses, even with cuffs on, her jaw as far forward as it would go. Silvana had to hand it to her.
G-Man calmer now, his body loose and gangly. "They got the girl next door kind of bitches, you know what I'm sayin'? Real clean-cut. I'm lookin' to get me a setup like that one day. You know, a service. Get off these damn streets."
"You know one of their girls named Evalena Diaz? Also known as Diamond?"
"Diamond? Yeah, I heard of her."
Vargas said, "What did you hear?"
"She big on that circuit. Used to get top dollar. Man, thass the kind o' bitches I need to get, you know what I'm sayin'? I hear she get a thousand dollars a pop. Man, I can make myself —"
Silvana broke in. "What do you mean, 'used to get top dollar'?"
"Hey, word is, she disappeared. Friend o' mine does muscle for Magic City. He say she gone, you know what I'm sayin'? Nobody knows where. S'pose to show up for a date one night and dint. Been gone 'bout a week now. Okay if I smoke?" He reached in his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes.
"Go ahead," Silvana said. He shook one loose from the pack and sparked it with a Bic lighter.
After a couple of puffs, he said, "I don't know no more 'bout that service, Sergeant."
Silvana and Vargas looked at each other. "All right," she said, nodding Vargas toward Laquita. He went over and uncuffed her.
" 'Bout fuckin' time," she said, massaging her wrists and strutting back to the passenger door. She put her hands on her generous hips and with her head rolling and sliding from side to side on her shoulders, said, "Cuffin' me for no motherfuckin' reason. I ain't done nothin'. I got rights, you know."
Silvana gave him a business card. "Okay, G-Man, if you hear anything else, here's my number. Put it in your cell phone now. Meanwhile, let's have the money." He pulled some bills from his pocket. She grabbed them and counted out a thousand dollars. Shoving the rest back at him, she gestured toward Laquita, who was still rubbing her wrists and claiming her rights. "Now, take your pet and get the fuck out of here."
42
Silvana
Miami, Florida
Friday, April 13, 2012
4:45 PM
CALLE OCHO WAS A PARKING LOT, going in both directions. At least there was movement every once in a while going toward downtown. The cars coming out of downtown might as well have been covered with moss. Vargas cursed the Miami traffic, one of his favorite pastimes, while Silvana punched up a number on her cell phone.
When the call was answered, she said, "Maxie. Sergeant Machado."
"Sergeant Machado. You have something for me?" Maxie's voice was lacking its usual toughness, now all hope and pleading.
"The detectives who are working the case just finished questioning Glenroy Charles's driver. He didn't see the shooting, because he had driven into the garage to park, but like any good driver, he always had his eye on the rear view mirror, and he caught a look at a car that pulled into the property a little way behind him."
"Did he get a make?" Maxie asked.
"Red Cadillac Escalade. Said he thinks he saw it following them earlier when they were leaving a club in North Miami."
"Red Escalade?"
Silvana said, "They're running it through the DMV now. We should have something tomorrow."
"You'll call me?"
"Yes. We'll let you know."
"Sergeant," Maxie said softly, "thank you very much. This means a lot to me."
"You're welcome, Maxie. We'll be in touch." She swiped the call off.
"What'd he say?" Vargas said.
"He's very grateful. You can't blame him, you know. It was his only child."
Vargas said, "I don't know, Silvi. I think you might be going soft. This is Maxie fucking Méndez, for Christ's sake. Why are we doing him any favors? I'd just as soon pop a cap up his fat ass as look at him."
"I know, I know," she said. "Me too. But this … the guy's daughter took one in the fucking face. She was Daddy's little girl."
Vargas chuckled. "Yeah. Daddy's little girl … who's fucking some Jamaican drug dealer along with anybody else with a little cash."
They finally made it past Miami Avenue and approached US 1. Vargas was positioned to go straight through the light.
"Turn here," Silvana said.
"Silvi, it's US 1. It's too crowded this time of day. I was gonna go straight to Brickell Bay Drive and go on down to the address. It's only about ten blocks or so."
"You ever been on that fucking street?" she said. "It's all high-rises and cars spilling out of parking garages at this hour. We'll be all fucking night trying to go those ten blocks. Better to take US 1."
Vargas grumbled a curse, but hit his turn signal anyway and turned right. Traffic was bad, but he'd seen worse. They eventually swung over to Brickell Bay Drive and pulled into number 1418. Vargas parked directly in front of the door under the porte-cochère. The doorman gave them some shit but they flipped their badges at him as they entered the building.
Silvana thought she had prepared herself for this visit. She'd told herself over and over this was a murder investigation and Sofía was no different than anyone else she might have to question. It had been, what — fifteen years since she'd seen her? She might not even recognize her after all that time. Sofia was no teenager anymore, hustling guys for pizzas. She had to be around thirty-three, thirty-four now. Probably a different person entirely.
Maybe she's been fucking herself up with drugs all these years, Silvana told herself. Drugs give you that hollow-eyed, sunken look. That look of desperation. Certainly years and years of fucking thousands of guys in heartless transactions for cash must have left a few wrinkles on her once-pretty face. Maybe she's even overweight. Drinking heavily? Not out of the question. Silvana had seen more than a few madams in her day and none of them were what you would call radiant, more like used up and relying on entrepreneurial skills and a gift of gab to carry them through. Definitely what you would call worn goods. So why was her heart pounding as they stepped onto the elevator?
Apartment 312 was directly across the hall from where they stepped off. Vargas laid the cop thud on the door and momentarily it opened. Silvana's rapid inhale was almost an audible gasp.
Vargas said, "Miss Ramos, we're police officers. May we speak with you for a moment?"
La Bruja.
There she stood, looking like April in Paris. All firm flesh and shining hair. Long, slender body wrapped in an emerald green silk blouse and tight fawn-colored slacks. Neutral-colored open stilettos clicked under her feet on the tile floor as she moved aside to admit the cops. Her brilliant face bore the beauty of one to whom high-priced gifts flow naturally. In gazing at that face, Silvana could almost feel the warm blood pulsating just below Sofía's snowy skin. Not a single gorgeous dark hair strayed out of place as it cascaded stylishly to a point just above her shoulders. Piercing eyes, around which there was absolutely not one line or wrinkle, were still quite capable of casting spells. Her perfect mouth, painted a light orange shade, pulled back into a smile across even, white teeth. At thirty-three, she basked in the Indian summer of youth.
La Bruja.
She showed no recognition of Silvana, and Silvana thought this a good thing at first. This way, they could just brace her about Evalena Diaz and go on about their business.
"May I see your identification?" she asked.
Silvana and Vargas produced their badges, and she looked them over carefully, as though there was going to be a test on them later. When she was finished, she said, "Sergeant Machado? Are you Silvana from Hialeah? Weren't we kids together?"
"Yes, we were, S
ofía. We were." Silvana froze in her tracks, utterly unable to move.
Sofía widened her luscious mouth into a grand grin. Her eyes lost their wariness and took on a look of pure delight. "Oh, Silvana! It's been so long! Please come in." She eagerly beckoned the cops into her apartment.
The place was very nice. Not eye-popping, but very nice. The kind of nice that speaks of nice income, income that could buy nice furniture and other nice appointments, possibly decorated by a nice professional. The centerpiece of the living room, which was where they all stood, was an L-shaped couch of steel-gray leather. Goes with everything. Very nice. Sofía took a seat on one leg of the L, pointed the two cops to the other.
"So, Silvana, how long have you been a police officer?" Sofía asked.
"About ten years now."
"I hardly ever see any of our old friends from back in the day," she said. Her smile never left her face, revealing all those magnificent sparkling teeth.
Vargas cleared his throat. "Uh, Miss Ramos, we're here on serious police business."
The smile vanished. "Oh, I'm sorry, detective. What can I help you with?"
He said, "You're listed as the owner of Magic City Suites, an escort service. Is that correct?"
"Yes." She said it slowly, returning the wariness to the eyes.
"We're interested in a girl you have working for you. One Evalena Diaz, aka Diamond."
Her voice dropped a level or two. "Yes, Diamond. Evalena. I don't know if you know this, but she's disappeared. Or, at least, I haven't seen her. It's been about a couple of weeks now."
Silvana said, "Sofía, we know she was sent on a date to the Sea & Sand Motel, probably to meet Bob Harvey, who was murdered shortly thereafter. We need to speak with her. She was supposed to meet Harvey, right?"
Sofía nodded. "The last I saw of her was that afternoon. Right before she went on the date."
"Right before?" Silvana said. "Was she here?"
"No, no. The girls never come here. But that day, I took her to lunch. We lingered over coffee and talked for quite a while. Then she left for the date."
Vargas said, "Do you often do that? Take your girls to lunch?"
"Every once in a while," Sofía said. "Evalena had had several dates with Harvey before that. He was paying her pretty well. A lot of her clients were paying her well. She was a good earner. I'm going to miss her."
"Miss her?" Vargas said. "You talk as though you'll never see her again."
"No, I mean, I miss her now. I hope she hasn't really disappeared, you know? I like her a lot."
Silvana leaned forward. "When she left your lunch, did she leave alone? I mean, did she drive away herself or did someone pick her up?"
Sofía gave it a little thought. "As I remember it, she left alone. We arrived in separate cars, and I don't know where hers was parked. We walked away from the restaurant in different directions." She appeared to be through talking, then she said, "Silvana, you don't think she could've had anything to do with that murder, do you? I mean, Evalena was a really gentle girl. She wouldn't hurt a fly."
"Well, she met Harvey at the motel and he was killed not too long after that, so if she didn't do it, we'd certainly like to ask her who else was there."
One shake of the head and Sofía said, "She didn't say anything at all about meeting anyone. Other than Harvey, that is. She had another date the next night, but obviously she didn't keep it. I had to send a substitute."
Silvana said, "Sofía, did you know Harvey yourself?"
A flickering deep in her eyes. The answer, Silvana knew, was yes.
"No," she replied. "I never met him."
"All right," Silvana said. "There's another girl. Ana Maxina Méndez. Do you know her?"
Sofía made a face. "Yes, I know her. Too bad about what happened to her the other night. I heard she was shot in the face. How awful!"
"Did she ever work for you?" Silvana asked.
"She came to me wanting to be an MCS escort in the worst way. I can't blame her, of course. Our girls escort men of means. Very generous men, if you get my meaning."
Silvana got her meaning. Sofía had been exploiting male generosity since her teenage days of hustling whole pizzas at Rey's back in Hialeah.
"Did you hire her?" Silvana asked.
"We gave her a trial. She was very good-looking. Young, fresh … she had what men want in an escort, you know? So we sent her on a few dates, but …"
"But what?" Vargas said.
"Well … she … oh, it was her appearance. She was gorgeous, like I said, and she always dressed tastefully, but her hair and makeup made her look cheap. Her attitude was low-level, too. She had a dirty mouth."
"Really?" Silvana said.
"Really. We sent her on a weekend date to Las Vegas with a client, and when they came back, he complained about her. Said he was embarrassed to be seen with her out there. She was drinking too much, acting up in these fancy casinos and restaurants, cursing in public, flirting with other men, that kind of thing. Our clients don't want to be seen with someone who looks and acts like street trash. I tried to talk her into a makeover, but she resisted, so we quit booking her. I heard she was killed with some Jamaican drug dealer. Doesn't surprise me."
Silvana said, "What else do you know about her? Anything about her background? Where she was from?"
Sofía thought a moment. "I believe she came from a good family. As I recall, she said she was raised in Hialeah Gardens, which has some really nice homes over there. You know Hialeah Gardens, don't you, Silvana?"
"Yes, I know it. So that's all you know about her background, her family? Nothing more?"
"No. Not that I can think of. Like I said, she only worked a few dates with us."
"Miss Ramos," Vargas said, "who is the real owner of Magic City Suites?"
Sofía's head went back, partly in surprise, the other part in indignation. "Why, I am the real owner. Where did you get the idea that —"
"You're listed as the owner," Vargas said, "but who's pulling the strings? Who do you kick up to?"
"Kick up? What are you talking about? Magic City Suites is a legitimate business providing escorts for men who want to take a girl out for a night on the town —"
"Or to fuck her over at the Sea & Sand Motel." Vargas penetrated her eyes with his own.
"Detective — uh, what was your name again? ¾ Vargas. Yes, Detective Vargas. My company is in no way involved in prostitution or any other illegal activities."
"Oh, really?" he said in his best wiseass tone. "An escort service not involved in prostitution? You don't say."
"Yes, I do say," she said. "We are completely legitimate."
"And how about you personally," Vargas said. "Are you 'completely legitimate'?"
Still on the couch, she straightened her posture and brushed her hair back with a flip of her hand. "Very much so. I always have been."
"Well, let's see." He pulled out his notebook. "Back in 1999, you were picked up for solicitation for prostitution in the bar at the Intercontinental Hotel. You spent the night in jail and you arranged bail the next day. Between 2000 and 2002, you were pinched on three occasions. Same charge, same result. You avoided trouble for a few years until 2007. That year you were working for an escort service yourself. You were busted at an orgy at the Eden Roc in Miami Beach. There was cocaine at that one. But there were a few too many big shots getting blow jobs that night, so the whole thing was swept under the rug. How'm I doing so far?"
Sofía's chin touched her chest, but her eyes glared at Vargas, then at Silvana. "Silvana, why is he saying all these things? What did I do to deserve —"
"There's been a murder, two murders if you count Ana Maxina Méndez, and you're in it up to your sweet pussy. How about you tell us what we want to know?"
"I don't know anyth —"
Vargas said, "Do you know a lawyer by the name of Reese Kilgore?"
Her head lifted up from her chest. "Y-yes. I know him."
"Is he your attorney?"
; "I've, uh, used his services on occasion."
"According to our records," Silvana said, "he bailed you out from the Eden Roc bust. Arranged for the whole thing to go away."
"I think I want a lawyer right now," Sofía said.
"We're not here to bust you," Vargas said. "But where did you, a common whore, get the money to pay Reese Kilgore? According to our files, he's been the attorney of record for every Magic City Suites whore who's been busted since you opened for business three years ago."
"I am not a common whore! And how much I pay my attorney, and where I get the money to pay him, is my business," she said, summoning up lots of confidence in her answer.
Silvana rose from the couch. Her voice grew forceful. She'd had it with this bitch. "Bullshit! Kilgore gets seven hundred an hour. He doesn't even answer the phone for less than ten grand. You can't afford him."
"Who says I can't?"
"I say so," Silvana said. "Look around this place. You think you're riding high because you're living on Brickell Bay Drive? You're right on the edge, puta, looking down. Somebody who can afford Reese Kilgore as a lawyer isn't going to be living in a one-bedroom in front of the fucking elevator. You're on the third floor of a thirty-floor high-rise with a view of the building next door." She walked around the room pointing at items. "Look at this dinette set. Where'd this come from? K-Mart? Rooms To Go at the very most!" She swatted a lamp off an end table. Sofía yelped when it crashed onto the tile and shattered.. "Cheap shit there," Silvana said. She upended the coffee table. A book on Tuscan architecture flew across the room and the table broke the second it hit the floor. "Cheaper shit there. Ha! Aside from this couch, everything in here is second-rate. You just make it look nice with a decorator's touch, but you know you're not living high. Even the artwork is cheesy."
Sofía became indignant. "How dare you come in here and —"
"Those Magic City whores are raking in big money, and you're only getting a tiny piece of it," Silvana said. She rushed over to Sofía and shoved her back against the window, causing it to shudder. Silvana grabbed a handful of her hair, jerking her lovely neck backward. To think she actually had dreams once of kissing that neck, that smooth, feathery neck. "Now, let's have it, you fucking bitch! Who do you kick up to?"
