"You can get a T-shirt with that on it," Tammy informed me. 'Twenty bucks."
"Great," I said, as I opened the folder.
It turned out that it was a menu of sorts. It was personalized to Tammy. It contained a single sheet of paper with two columns on it. One listed the sexual acts she was willing to perform and the lengths of individual sessions, and the other.listed the prices these services would cost the customer. After two of the listed sexual acts were asterisks. At the bottom it was explained that an asterisk denoted a personal specialty.
"So," I said, staring at the columns. "I think I might need a translator for some of these."
"I'll help you. Which ones?"
"How much is it just to talk?"
"What do you mean, like talk dirty to you? Or you talk dirty to me?"
"No, just talk. I want to ask you about a guy I'm looking for. He's from around here." Her posture changed. She sat up straighter and in doing so put a couple inches of space between us, which was fine because her perfume was searing my already incense-burned nasal plates.
"I think you better talk to Tawny when she's finished."
"I want to talk to you, Tammy. I've got a hundred bucks for five minutes. I'll double it if you give me a line on this guy."
She hesitated as she thought about it. Two hundred bucks wouldn't even cover an hour's work, according to the menu. But I had a feeling the menu prices were negotiable and, besides, there was nobody lined up on the pink cement to get in here.
"Somebody's going to take my money here," I said. "It might as well be you."
"Okay, but it has to be quick. If Tawny finds out you ain't a paying customer she's going to kick you out and put me at the back of the line."
Now I understood. She had answered the door because she was up. I could have picked from any of the women on the couches but Tammy got the first shot at me.
I reached into my pocket for my money and gave her the hundred. I kept the rest in my hand as I pulled out the file and opened it. Rachel had made a mistake asking the women at Sheila's if they recognized any of the men in the photos. That was because she didn't have the confidence I had. I was more certain of my theory and I didn't make that mistake with Tammy.
The first photo I showed her was the front shot of Shandy on Terry McCaleb's boat. "When was the last time you saw him around here?" I asked.
Tammy looked at the photo for a long moment. She didn't take it from me, though I would have given it to her to hold. After what seemed like an interminable moment, when I thought the door would swing open and the woman named Tawny would order me out, she finally spoke.
"I don't know ... at least a month, maybe more. He hasn't been around."
I felt like climbing on the bed and bouncing, but I kept my cool. I wanted her to believe I knew everything she was telling me. She would feel more comfortable that way and be more forthcoming.
"Do you remember where it was you saw him?"
"Just out front. I walked a customer out and Tom was there waiting."
"Uh-huh. Did he say anything to you?"
"No, he never does. He doesn't even know me really."
"Then what happened?"
"Nothing happened. My guy got in the car and they drove away."
I was beginning to get a picture. Tom had a car. He was a driver.
"Who called him? Was it you or had the client already done that?"
"It was Tawny probably. I don't really remember."
"Because it happened all the time."
"Yeah."
"But he hasn't been around in, what, a month?"
"Yeah. Maybe more. Is that enough of a lead? I mean, what do you want?" She was looking at the second hundred in my hand.
'Two things. You know Tom's last name?"
"No."
"Okay, how does somebody get a hold of him if they need a ride?"
"Call him, I guess."
"Can you get me the number?"
"Just go over to the sports bar, that's where we call him. I don't know the number offhand. It's up there next to the phone in front."
"The sports bar, okay."
I didn't give her the money.
"One last thing."
"You keep saying that."
"I know but I mean it this time."
I showed her the six-pack of photos Rachel had brought of the missing men. These were better and much clearer than the photos that had run with the newspaper article. These were full-color candids given to Vegas Metro by their families and then turned over as a courtesy to the FBI.
"Any of these guys your customers?"
"Look, mister, we don't talk about customers. We're very discreet and don't give out that kind of information."
"They're dead, Tammy. It doesn't matter."
Her eyes widened and then lowered to the photos in my hand. These she took and she looked through them tike they made up a hand of cards. I could tell by the way her eyes flared that she'd been dealt an ace.
"What?"
"Well, this one guy looks like a guy that was here. He was with Mecca, I think. You could ask her." I heard a horn honk twice. I knew it was from my car. Rachel was getting impatient.
"Go get Mecca and bring her back here. I'll give you the rest of the money then. Tell her I've got some money for her, too. Don't tell her what I want. Tell her I just want two girls at once."
"All right, but that's it. You pay me."
"I will."
She left the room and I sat on the bed looking around while I waited. The walls were paneled with fake cherry wood. There was one window with a frilly curtain. I leaned across the bed and pulled the curtain open. The view was of nothing but barren desert. The bed and the trailer might as well be sitting on the moon.
The door opened and I turned back, ready to give Tammy the rest of her money and to dive into my pocket for Mecca's share. But there weren't two women in the doorway. There were two men. They were big-one larger than the other-and their arms below their black T-shirts were completely carved up with jailhouse ink. On the bigger man's bulging biceps was a skull with a halo above it and that told me who they were.
"What's up, Doc?" said the bigger one.
"You must be Tawny," I said.
Without a word he reached down and grabbed two fistfuls of my jacket. He pulled me up off the bed and tossed me out into the hallway to the waiting arms of his partner. The new one shoved me down the hallway in the opposite direction I had come into the trailer from. I realized that the horn honk from Rachel had been a warning, not a sign of impatience. I was wishing I had read that right when Big and Little Steroid shoved me through a back door and onto the rocky terrain of the desert.
I went down to my hands and knees and was gathering myself and getting up when one of them put his boot on my hip and shoved me down again. I tried to get up again and this time they let me.
"I said, what's up, Doc? You got business here?"
"I was just asking questions and I was willing to pay for the answers. I didn't think that was a problem."
"Well, pal, that is a problem."
They were advancing on me, the big man first. He was so big I couldn't even see his little brother behind him. I was taking a step backward for every one they took forward. And I had a bad feeling that that was what they wanted. They were backing me toward something, maybe a hole in the ground out there in the sand and rock.
"Who are you, boy?"
"I'm a private detective from L.A. I'm just looking for a missing man, that's all."
"Yeah, well, people who come here don't want to be looked for."
"I understand that now. I'll just clear out of here and you won't-"
"Excuse me."
We all stopped. It was Rachel's voice. The bigger man turned back toward the trailer and his shoulder lowered a few inches. I could see Rachel coming out the back door of the trailer. Her hands were at her sides.
"What's this, you bring your mother?" Big Steroid said.
"Something like that
."
While he was looking at Rachel I clasped my hands together and swung a sledgehammer into the back of his neck. He went forward and into his partner. But the blow was nothing more than a surprise attack. He didn't go down. He wheeled on me and started coming at me, balling his fists into twin sledgehammers. I saw Rachel move her arm under her blazer and flip it back to get to her gun. But her hand caught momentarily in the material and she was late getting to her weapon.
"Hold it!" she yelled.
But the Steroid boys didn't stop. I ducked under the bigger man's first punch but when I came up behind him I was right in front of little brother. He grabbed me in a bear hug and lifted me off the ground. For some reason at this point I noticed that there were women watching from the three back windows of the rear trailer. I had drawn an audience to my own destruction.
My arms were trapped inside of my attacker's embrace and I was feeling severe pressure building on my spine at the same time the air was crushed out of my lungs. Just then Rachel finally freed her weapon and fired two shots into the air.
I was dropped to the ground and I watched as Rachel crab-walked away from the trailer to make sure no one could get up behind her.
"FBI," she shouted. "On the ground. Both of you on the ground."
The big men complied. As soon as I got some air back into my lungs I got back up. I tried to dust some of the dirt off my clothes but all that did was spread it around. I looked at Rachel and nodded. She kept her distance from the men on the ground and signaled me over with her finger. "What happened?"
"I was interviewing one of the women and asked her to bring in another. But then these guys showed up and dragged me out here. Thanks for the warning."
"I did try to warn you. I honked."
"I know, Rachel. Take it easy. That's what I'm thanking you for. I just misread it."
"So what do we do?"
"I don't care about these guys. Cut 'em loose. But there are two women inside, Tammy and Mecca, we need to take them. One knows Shandy and the other I think can ID one of the missing men as being a customer."
Rachel computed this and slowly nodded.
"Good. Is Shandy a customer?"
"No, he's some sort of driver. We need to get over to the sports bar and ask around there."
"Then we can't just cut these two loose. They might just come meet us again over there. Besides there were four bikes out front. Where are the other two?"
"I don't know."
"Hey, come on!" Big Steroid yelled. "We're breathing sand over here."
Rachel approached the two men on the ground.
"Okay, get up."
She waited until they were up and staring at her with malevolent eyes. She dropped her gun down to her side and spoke calmly to them, as if this was the way she normally got to know people. "Where are you guys from?" "Why?"
"Why? Because I'm trying to get to know you. I'm deciding whether to arrest you." "For what? He started it."
"Not what I saw. I saw two big men assaulting a smaller man."
"He was trespassing."
"Last I checked, trespassing was not a valid defense of assault. If you want to see if I'm wrong then keep-"
"Pahrump."
"What?"
"Pahrump."
"And do you own these three operations?"
"No, we're just security."
"I see. Well, I'll tell you what. If you two find the other two whose bikes are out front and go back to Pahrump, then we'll let bygones be bygones here."
"That's not fair. He was in there asking-"
"I'm the FBI. I'm not interested in what's fair. Take it or leave it."
After a moment the bigger man broke from his stance and started walking toward the trailer. The smaller big man followed.
"Where are you going?" Rachel barked.
"We're leaving. Like you told us."
"Good. Make sure you put on your helmets, gentlemen."
Without looking back the bigger man raised a brawny arm and shot us a bird as he walked. The smaller big man saw this and did the same.
Rachel looked at me and said, "I hope this works."
CHAPTER 32
The women in the backseat were angry but Rachel didn't care. This was the closest she had been-the closest anybody had been-to Backus since that night in Los Angeles. The night she had watched him crash backward through the glass and into the void that seemed to swallow any trace of him.
Until now. And the last thing she was going to let bother her were the protests of the two prostitutes in the backseat of Bosch's car. The only thing that bothered her was her decision to let Bosch drive. They now had two custodies and were transporting them in a private car. It was a security issue and she wasn't sure yet how they were going to handle the stop at the sports bar.
"I know what we'll do," Bosch said as he drove away from the three brothels at the end of the road.
"So do I," Rachel said. "You'll stay with them while I go in."
"No, that won't work. You'll need backup. We just proved that we shouldn't split up." "Then what?"
"I turn on the child locks on the back doors. They won't be able to open them."
"And what's to stop them from climbing over to the front seat and getting out?"
"Look, where are they going to go? They have no choice, right, ladies?"
He looked up into the rearview mirror.
"Fuck you," answered the one named Mecca. "You can't just do this. We're not the ones who committed any crimes."
"Actually, as I explained before, we can," Rachel said in a bored tone. "You have been taken into federal custody as material witnesses in a criminal investigation. You will be formally interviewed and then released."
"Well, just do it now and get it over with."
Rachel had been surprised to learn when she looked at the woman's driver's license that her name really was Mecca. Mecca Mclntyre. What a name.
"Well, Mecca, we can't. I already explained that, too."
Bosch pulled into the gravel lot in front of the sports bar. There were no other cars. He lowered all the windows a couple of inches and turned off the car.
"I'm going to put the alarm on," he said. "If you climb over and open the door it will set off the alarm. We'll then come out and chase you down. So don't bother, okay? We won't be gone long."
Rachel got out and closed the door. She checked her cell phone again and was still not getting service. She saw Bosch check his and shake his head. She decided she would commandeer the phone in the sports bar, if there was one, and call the Vegas FO to report what she had. She expected Cherie Dei to be very angry and pleased.
"By the way," Bosch said as they came to the ramp leading up to the door of the trailer, "do you carry an extra magazine for your Sig?"
"Of course."
"Where, on your belt?"
"That's right, why?"
"Nothing, I just saw back there behind the trailer that your hand sort of got caught in your jacket."
"It didn't get caught. I just-what's your point?"
"Nothing. I was just going to say that I always carried my extra in my jacket pocket. It gave it some weight, you know. So when you had to flip it back the extra weight carried it all the way back and out of the way."
"Thanks for the tip," she said evenly. "Can we concentrate on this now?"
"Sure, Rachel. You going to take the lead here?"
"If you don't mind."
"Not at all."
He followed her up the ramp. She thought she saw a smile on his face in the reflection on the glass of the trailer's door. She opened it, engaging an overhead bell that announced their arrival.
They stepped into a small and empty barroom. To their right was a pool table, its green felt faded by time and stained by drink spills. It was a small table but still did not have enough clearance in the small space. Even breaking a rack would probably require holding a cue at a forty-degree angle.
To the left of the door was a six-stool bar with three shelves
of glasses and take-your-pick poison behind it. There was no one in the bar but before Rachel or Bosch could call out a hello, a set of black curtains to the left of the bar split and a man stepped out, his eyes creased with sleep even though it was almost noon.
The Narrows (2004) Page 24
