Dying for a Fix

by G. K. Parks

  “Thank you.” I grabbed my bag. “I hate running into unexpected surprises, particularly in the shower.”

  “Bathroom’s clean too.” He nodded. “I’ll finish checking the rest of the building, but unless we get another report, this ought to be our last visit.”

  He headed up the stairs to sell his act, and I went down the steps and out the front door. Francisco was sitting on the railing, somehow managing to balance his large frame on the tiny wrought-iron bar. We made eye contact, and he hopped down, reaching for me. I jumped back, and he frowned.

  “I’m not going to hit you,” he whispered.

  “Shakespeare probably wants you to do a lot worse.” I blinked and looked away. “What do you want, Francisco?”

  “Nothing. I just want you to be careful. The cops are still snooping around, and you need to keep your mouth shut at work. Okay?”

  “I didn’t do this. I didn’t say a thing to them. I wouldn’t. Don’t you realize what would happen if I did?”

  He grabbed my arms and pulled me tightly against his chest, muffling my words. “Shh. I know. But in the meantime, you’re not selling product or taking any side jobs, understand?”

  “I don’t turn tricks.”

  “That’s not what Hotshot said.”

  “That was different,” I retorted, wondering what the hell Heathcliff said.

  “Doesn’t matter. Shakespeare’s not looking for any new talent right now, anyway.” He released his grip, stepping back. “And stay clean for a couple of days. With the police hanging around, you don’t want to get picked up for possession or public intoxication.” He assessed my appearance. “Plus, from the looks of you, you must have had one hell of a night.”

  “Well, I thought your boss was going to kill me. And that wounded guy,” I pressed my lips together, swallowing, “how is he?”

  “He’ll survive. Someone owed us a favor.” He jerked his chin toward the bus stop. “That’s not your problem. Now get out of here before you miss your ride.”

  Not needing to be told twice, I took the bus a few stops farther than I needed to go, backtracked on foot to the subway, and then took a cab to the motel. The entire trip took over an hour, but I had to be careful that no one was tailing me. Shakespeare’s guard was already up, and until I knew that Heathcliff was safe, I couldn’t risk blowing either of our covers.

  Unlocking the motel room, I stepped inside to find it empty. After performing a quick sweep, I checked the time. It was two hours earlier than I planned. That was one of the only benefits of not sleeping; there were always extra hours in the day.

  Locking the door and latching the security bar in place, I sat on the bed and picked up the motel phone. My first inclination was to call the precinct and convince Detective O’Connell or Lt. Moretti to give me some details on Heathcliff’s previous assignment with narcotics, but that would be violating both OIO and PD protocols. Then I thought about dialing Derek’s number directly, but if he was still with Shakespeare, the last thing I needed to do was hand the head of the KXDs my safe house on a silver platter. Out of good ideas, I distracted myself by dialing an unrelated number.

  “I just really needed to hear your voice.” I curled up on the bed with the phone pressed to my ear.

  “Should I be worried?” Martin asked. “It’s rather early in the day for you to be fantasizing about me, isn’t it?” His attempt at levity brought a smile to my face. “What’s going on?”

  “I showed up early for a meeting,” I replied, stretching the truth just a little. “No big deal. Have you finished work for the day?” It was slightly after four, and even though I called his office phone, it was possible he had more business to conduct.

  “More or less.” As he spoke about his day and aspects of the lawsuit that he was able to talk about, my eyes began to droop. “Alex?” he asked.

  I blinked and focused on the time, wondering where the last forty minutes went. “Sorry, I must have zoned out. I need to go. We’ll talk again soon.”

  Just as my eyes closed, footsteps sounded outside the room, and then the adjoining door opened. Jablonsky gave me one look, shook his head, and set a suitcase down on the foldable rack. Unzipping the luggage, he pulled a dozen files from inside and placed them on the foot of my bed.

  “Let me guess, if I hadn’t sent over the pizza, you wouldn’t have eaten either,” he scolded. “What have I told you about doing this job?”

  “Sleep when you can. Eat when you can. You never know what’s around the corner,” I repeated, annoyed by yet another of his constant life lessons.

  “Precisely. Which begs the question, why do you look like an anemic anorexic?”

  “Bite me.”

  “I would, but I’d break my teeth. There’s more meat on a chicken wing.” He cracked a smile. “What’s the problem?”

  “Where should I begin?” I sighed. “Is Derek okay?”

  “He’s fine. That isn’t to say the PD is being the least bit helpful. They don’t seem to understand what the word transparency means.” Mark rubbed his face and took a seat. “Tell me everything you know and everything Detective Heathcliff has told you.”

  During my debrief, Mark scribbled countless notes, despite the fact that I didn’t know very much. After I finished, he returned the favor, clueing me in as to why the PD was involved and the progress that had been made since I planted the cell phone inside Steele’s SUV. The tech department upgraded the power source, enabling the battery life to last between five days and a week. With any luck, the OIO would continue to gather useful intel for the next few days.

  So far, we knew that Shakespeare had met with the Lords three times since my run-in with the four gang members. The last visit occurred two evenings ago on the night the Black Cat was raided. From the comments Francisco made to the two lookouts on the drive there, it was obvious the KXDs believed the Lords were horning in on their territory and selling out their rival’s drug dealing and prostitution to the police department. Even if the PD didn’t favor sharing their intel with us, much the same way we had kept them in the dark, they had been running an operation for some time and were determined to shut down most of the drug dealing in the city. Heathcliff had said as much, but I didn’t realize narcotics still had an ongoing sting operation in the works. Then again, my attention wasn’t focused where it needed to be.

  “I spoke to Veronica Kincaid, the stripper that was assaulted,” Mark clarified. “She wasn’t necessarily willing to divulge that much information, but she provided a few helpful details. The tech department’s piecing together the assault, but maybe you can save everyone some time.” He sorted through the files, opening one and removing a blown-up, black and white photo from a security camera. “Do you recognize those two guys?”

  I expected to see Francisco or maybe the lookouts from the neighborhood, but that wasn’t who assaulted Veronica. Sucking in a breath, I moved the photo into better light, convinced what I was seeing wasn’t possible. Then again, it made sense.

  “That one,” I pointed to One Eye, “was part of the group that attacked me.” Mark took the photo, squinting at it. “It’s hard to tell, given the hood and angles, but it’s him. I’m positive.”

  “So you weren’t the first warning the Lords issued. That changes things.”

  A conversation between Shakespeare and Francisco played through my mind. “I thought Francisco was responsible. He was supposed to be taking care of mouthy bitches or whatever the hell it is that Bard was complaining about.” Biting my lip, I reexamined the few facts I knew about Veronica. “Do you have her medical records?”

  “Only what the PD has a copy of when the assault was reported.” He handed me another sheet of paper.

  “Amazing. She was actually telling the truth.” He looked confused, so I pointed to the toxicology screening. “She’s clean. No drugs or alcohol. So she found sobriety and stopped dealing. The KXDs had no way to continue to coerce her to play by their rules, so they would have had plenty of reasons to attack her,
maybe even kill her. So how come the Lords were responsible for the assault?”

  “I’ll continue to dig into her background, but my gut says the Lords are going after the weakest members of the KXDs’ herd. Veronica. You. Fringe members and wannabes. It’s probably about posturing and demonstrating their own superiority. But it backfired when Bard didn’t rush off to her defense. Hell, he probably used it to his advantage to send a message to the rest of his followers not to cross him. It doesn’t matter if you’re in or out, you can’t give up the gang life, unless it gives you up.”

  “Did they hire you to come up with that slogan?” I quipped, unable to make sense of this mess.

  “Cute,” he scoffed. “But that would explain why the KXDs didn’t retaliate after her alleged mugging. They were sending a message to her and anyone else who might want out. If you leave, you lose our protection. It was probably enough to scare most of the rank and file to stay in line.”

  “The KXDs already fear Bard, probably Steele too. When the two of them left to make that pick-up, the neighborhood erupted in chaos. Bard’s the power that keeps them safe from outsiders and themselves.” Massaging my temples, I asked, “How does this happen?”

  “We don’t have time for lengthy social theories. It just does.” He checked the time. “Let’s focus on the headway we’ve made in the last seventy-two hours before you go back to serving drinks and shaking those bony hips.”

  The stash house that Francisco led me to was under surveillance. Everyone who went near it was identified, and a log was being kept of the comings and goings. It wasn’t much, but since I didn’t witness the exchange firsthand or get a clear glimpse of what occurred inside that locked room, no judge was willing to grant a warrant for what he considered to be a fishing expedition. Obviously, several months and dozens of requests had caused the current operation to fall from favor in the eyes of the court.

  Numerous train depots and cargo holds were being torn apart. Random checks were being conducted throughout the country on all passenger trains. Amtrak wasn’t pleased, but so far, fifty bricks of cocaine, a dozen or so kilos of heroin, and plenty of marijuana had been confiscated. However, no one was talking, and the passengers that checked said bags didn’t appear to exist. They bought a ticket, loaded their belongings, and disappeared somewhere along the route or disembarked before the train even left the station.

  “Security has been tightened everywhere. It’s just a matter of time before someone gets caught, and then it’ll be like dominos – a train reaction,” Mark announced, and I physically cringed at his pathetic wordplay. “What? You say crap like that a lot.”

  “In that case, remind me not to.” I rubbed my eyes, but it did little for my headache. “When are you pulling me out?”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I told you about the GSW victim. And while I was being interrogated by Bard, some of his minions ransacked Nicholson’s apartment. He doesn’t trust me. I’m not sure Steele does either, not after Derek was naked in my bed.” I held up my hand. “It’s not what you think, but it was supposed to look like it.”

  “Steele’s been using you from the get go. He wouldn’t be doing that if he thought you were an agent. See what else you can pick up on at the club. Those numbnuts at the precinct nearly wrecked everything with that raid. Sure, they claimed they were rounding up hookers, but it might have escalated the impending gang war. The rumblings are getting louder.” He sighed. “It also might cause the KXDs’ international connection to go to ground. Be careful. We’ll see how things play out over the next few days, and I’ll run everything past Kendall. I’d hate to pull you prematurely.”

  “Yeah, especially now that we have even more cooks in the kitchen to screw things up. Do you have any idea about Heathcliff’s previous stint with the narcotics unit? Bard knows him. It’s like they were good buddies back in the day. It’s disconcerting.”

  “I’ll wheedle what I can out of Lt. Moretti, but the police department is sticking to its guns in terms of officer safety. Not that I can blame them. I’d do the same thing to protect my undercover asset.”

  “How ‘bout you give your asset a twenty and let her take a cab instead of freezing her ass off by prancing around in slutty attire?”

  He emptied his wallet, giving me whatever cash he had. “Keep that new burner on you at all times. As soon as we have something concrete, I’ll let you know. And text if you need to make a drop. The gym is open twenty-four hours.”

  “Oh, sure, now you tell me.”

  Twenty-nine

  The Black Cat was quiet and subdued, even the volume of the obnoxious, raunchy music was lower. The clientele was practically nonexistent, so the servers were camped out at the bar, occasionally running back and forth to deliver a drink, while the actual strippers were left to dance to an almost empty room. Randomly, I wondered if they preferred it that way. The twirls and stripteases lacked the usual level of enthusiasm, and obviously, everyone was phoning it in tonight. But I was ill at ease being treated like a pariah. Was everyone told to watch themselves or stay away? Granted, we didn’t normally sit around, braiding each other’s hair or exchanging hints on how to score generous tips, but when I returned from cashing out my only table, the surrounding area cleared out quickly.

  After Sasha finished her number and walked off stage, expertly maneuvering the three steps in her five inch heels while fastening her top, she went around the bar, picked up a bottle of water, and took a sip. Slowly, I spun to face her, expecting her to avoid me too, but she held her ground.

  “You should probably run for the hills. Apparently I have a contagious disease. I hope it’s not VD,” I quipped.

  “Did you hear about what happened the other night?” she asked.

  “I heard the cops were sniffing around for some ass. Was someone having a bachelor party?”

  “The skin squad questioned us and shut down the place. We didn’t make a dime and had to spend hours in lockup while we waited to answer a bunch of pointless questions. And you weren’t here.”

  “Great, so now I’m getting branded a snitch because my leg’s screwed up?”

  “No. Misery loves company. And you weren’t miserable.” She stabbed a maraschino cherry with a toothpick and popped it into her mouth. “The only thing worse than being felt up and scrutinized for hours by those pricks with badges is the cold shoulder you get when you miss it.” She shrugged. “We go through this every few months. Give it a couple of weeks and we’ll forget all about it and treat you normally again.”

  “Can’t wait,” I replied sarcastically, and she snorted. “Joe’s not even here to listen to my whining and bitching. Did they arrest him too?”

  She looked around, asking one of the girls who was filling in behind the bar where Joe was. Her response was a shrug. Maybe the PD pulled him off this case after the raid or kept him for possession or something in order to make his cover look good. Who knows?

  In the meantime, I was supposed to be gathering information and maintaining a low profile. Too bad no one wanted to talk to me, and no one wanted to visit a club that had dealings with the police department less than forty-eight hours ago. Tonight was just getting better and better.

  Resigned to the evening turning into a wash, I busied myself with menial labor. After bussing the empty tables, wiping down every surface with disinfectant, and vacuuming the less trafficked areas, like the empty VIP rooms, I offered to clean the offices and restrooms. Since I was in the doghouse, I might as well act like it. Plus, it provided the perfect opportunity to snoop. The assistant manager seemed pleased someone was offering to clean, especially when it looked like we’d be shutting down just as soon as the last two visitors called it a night.

  The first room I entered was the security office. One of the bouncers glanced up when I opened the door, dragging the vacuum along behind me. He didn’t say anything, but I got the distinct impression he was enjoying the view. Perhaps I should have donned a French maid’s outfit too.


  Casting a few discreet looks at the monitors, the cameras were set up in each of the VIP areas, at the bar, and near the back hallway facing the stage. Surprisingly enough, the offices, locker room, and changing areas were off limits. Who knew this place actually had some scruples?

  Finishing in that room, I left the door cracked open and continued down the corridor, entering the locker room. As the Hoover remained in place, thoroughly sucking up the excess glitter on that particular patch of flooring, I checked the lockers. The ones without locks were empty, and everyone else had done a fine job of securing their belongings. Picking each lock would have taken far too long and would have violated the Fourth Amendment. Damn, I’d forgotten how much it sucks to play by the rules.

  Two rooms remained in the back hallway. One was the manager’s office, and the other I wasn’t sure about. I’d never stepped foot inside either. The nameplate read “private” which didn’t exactly provide any insight into what was behind door number one, but before I could turn the knob, the side door opened directly behind me. It was the employees’ entrance, and I thought maybe someone was showing up late for a shift. Instead, the person who opened the door quickly pulled it closed. The brief glimpse hadn’t been enough for an identification, and being far too curious for my own good, I went to the door, slowly turning the knob and easing it open inch by inch. But whoever had been out there was gone.

  “What the hell?” I let the door close on its own. Something was off, and I didn’t like it. Deciding that remaining alone in the back hallway wasn’t the best idea, I returned the vacuum and cleaning supplies to the janitor’s closet and went back to the bar.

  The place was devoid of patrons. And within ten minutes, the house lights came on, and we were told to go home. I lost count of the number of angry glares that came my way as the women trooped past.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I snapped, and for my trouble, I was shoulder-checked a few times. Not wanting to deal with the hostility, I waited until the outside door opened and closed half a dozen times before I made my way to the locker room to change.