Pyramid Deception

by Austin S. Camacho

  “While we’re here we’d like a moment with an old friend, a Miss Sarah Thomas. Just give her that card and tell her I have some important news for her concerning her past connections. She’ll know what I mean.”

  He saw her eyes widen for less than a second before she recaptured her composure. “I’ll be happy to ask around but I’m not sure I know her. We all pretty much use stage names here so I can’t be sure. In the meantime, would you like drinks?”

  Hannibal requested a bottle of Riesling and settled in to scan the menu. He couldn’t help but notice that Tahnee had seated them so that he faced the stage.

  “She was nice,” Cindy said.

  “You’re nicer. Want an appetizer?”

  “They’re all basic bar food,” she said. “How about some stuffed jalapeños? Seems appropriate.”

  Hannibal agreed. They ordered when Tahnee returned but there was no mention of Sarah Thomas. He saw no reason to press the point. If she wasn’t there they would still just enjoy their dinner. If she was there but didn’t want to talk to them, there was little to be done about it. The lead seemed slim anyway. Hannibal almost hoped it wouldn’t pan out. Waiting for their food, sipping wine and biting into stuffed hot peppers, he realized that this was the first truly natural and relaxed moment he had had with Cindy in a week. Even peeking over her shoulder at the entertainment, her sense of humor seemed to have returned.

  “Hey, she’s hot,” she said. “What do they need all these big screen plasmas for? Must be insulting to the strippers.”

  “Well if you’d tear your eyes away from the bootie for a second you’d notice they’re all on sports events, just like any other bar.”

  “Doesn’t seem fair,” Cindy said with a smirk. “You don’t see them showing porn on the screen at a Wizards game. Now if I was up there working that pole…”

  “No one would notice the TVs.”

  A change of dancers made Hannibal notice the people around him. The new girl was white, as were the great majority of the patrons. All were well dressed, almost all were couples, and they were quieter than he had expected. Maybe they regarded this as just another dining spot. He wondered if anyone ever came into the Lucent Restaurant without knowing it was a strip club until it was too late to gracefully back out.

  Their entrees arrived quickly, and Cindy commented, “I’m surprised you didn’t go for the fried oysters in this place.”

  “Sorry, babe, but it seemed more appropriate to order the strip steak.”

  He liked the heavy silverware but even without it the knife would have glided through his medium rare 16 ounce steak, nicely blackened at his request. It was as crunchy as he hoped on the outside and very moist within. After the first bite he added pepper from the mill and passed on any kind of sauce.

  Cindy’s face told him she was equally surprised at the seafood on her combo platter. The broiled scallops, she told him, were how you judged a chef’s hand with seafood. Watching her more than the flexible performer behind her, Hannibal remembered why he had gotten drawn into this case, and why he was drawn into her life.

  “This is what I wanted to see more than anything. You looking happy.”

  “Happy?” Cindy paused to chew a shrimp. “I don’t know. I’m still angry. And hurting. In mourning I guess.”

  Hannibal reached across the table to cover her left hand with his. “Perfectly normal, babe. Friends are hard to lose.”

  Cindy stopped with a forkful of crab cake half way to her mouth and looked up to meet Hannibal’s eyes. “And there’s guilt, Hannibal. I’m so ashamed of myself. When I was sitting in that hotel room alone after hearing that Jason was really gone, I realized that I was mourning the money more than him. That’s why I almost…what I almost did. Now I realize that life has to go on. And after tonight I’m going to let you do what you do. I’m not a detective. Where I belong is in that law office taking care of my clients, and tomorrow morning that’s where I’ll be.”

  Hannibal smiled and was about to say something about people doing what they were born to do when an approaching figure distracted him. It was another of the bikini clad wait staff. This was the first woman of color he had seen aside from the guests. She was average height but looked like some giant had gripped her waist and squeezed much of her body up and down, leaving her in an exaggerated hourglass shape. Her smooth skin, straight black hair and exotic eyes spoke of a Polynesian background. When she stopped at the table she made a point of looking at both of them.

  “Hello. My name is Myca.”

  “Of course it is,” Hannibal said.

  “Ms. Thomas asked me to check to make sure your meal was satisfactory.”

  “I have to say the steak was excellent. Cindy?”

  “A surprisingly good meal,” she said. “Usually at a dinner theater, either the food or the show is disappointing. But not this time.”

  Myca stifled a well-rehearsed giggle. “The chef, and the performers will be pleased. Ms. Thomas also asked if you could tell me a little more about the message you had for her.”

  “I’m afraid that message is for her ears alone,” Hannibal said. “But you could tell her that it concerns George Washington Monroe.”

  Myca nodded and appeared to do a little calculus in her head. Then she refreshed her smile and said, “Please follow me. And don’t worry about the check. Ms. Thomas will take care of that.”

  “That’s very generous,” Hannibal said standing and reaching into his pocket, “but I still need to leave a tip. The service was excellent.”

  “Yes, what happened to Tahnee?” Cindy asked.

  “Change of shifts,” Myca said. “We rotate.” She nodded toward one of the stages. Tahnee was giving an energetic dance performance, whipping the nearby male patrons into a subdued frenzy.

  “Rotate,” he said with a smile. “You do indeed.”

  Myca led them to a door that was obscured by a sheer curtain hanging in front of it. After guiding them through she led them down a hallway to a small service elevator. Hannibal and Cindy entered but Myca stayed in the hall, pushed a button and waved to them as the doors closed.

  “The whole speakeasy feel of these places just doesn’t go away, does it?” Cindy said.

  Hannibal didn’t say anything, but his left hand was halfway to his shoulder holster when the elevator doors opened on the lower level. They stepped out into a room that was a little bigger than Hannibal’s living room but was set up as an office. The furniture, conservative but not antique, rested on a dark brown carpet. The room smelled of cinnamon and vanilla. At the far end of the room a woman sat at a computer with her back to them, apparently handling some correspondence. Her fingers tapped the keys with the deft expertise of an executive secretary.

  “Hello?” Cindy called. “We were looking for a Sarah Thomas.”

  The woman spun toward them on her wheeled chair. “You’ve found her. Now who are you?”

  “My name is Cindy Santiago.”

  “And I’m Hannibal Jones.”

  “Yes I know,” Sarah said. “That’s why you’re here. So what’s on your mind?”

  The woman was close to Hannibal’s height, near six feet tall, with raven hair in waves resting on her shoulders. Her smile challenged him while she pulled out and lit a cigarette.

  “Ms. Thomas, I have news regarding your ex-husband, George Washington Monroe. He would want you to know.”

  “Know what?” she asked. Her beauty was fully matured and her skin was as dark as ebony. After meeting a brunette named Tahnee and another woman named Myca, Hannibal wondered if Sarah had danced as Onyx.

  “He would want you to know that he’s dead.”

  Sarah took a deep drag on her slender cigarette and sat back on the desk. “Wash is dead?”

  “Wash is dead. I believe he was murdered.”

  Sarah pointed toward the small round meeting table, inviting them to sit. She again filled her lungs with smoke. She breathed it out in a long, slow stream. She reached back to the desk and pushed but
tons on the phone. A young woman answered.

  “Bourbon,” Sarah said. Then she stepped slowly toward the table on heels that might have frightened Tina Turner. She looked at Cindy, then Hannibal and said, “Thank you. Thank you for coming instead of calling. You are an exception among your gender, Mr. Jones. You are all that people say you are.”

  A dancer/waitress entered carrying a tray. She placed it on the table, set a glass in front of each of the guests and left one in front of an empty chair. She smiled at the guests, nodded toward Sarah, and vanished out the door. Sarah poured for the three of them and settled into her chair.

  “How do you know Hannibal?”

  Sarah looked at Hannibal. “She with you?” When Hannibal nodded, Sarah turned to Cindy. “You know what you got, right?”

  “Yes, I believe I do.”

  Sarah smiled and leaned back. “Girls on the street know Jones. They know if they get into trouble he doesn’t worry about who they are or what they do. And they know he doesn’t ask for specials or freebies or payment in kind.”

  Hannibal nodded his thanks. “I haven’t found a lot of people who were close to Wash,” Hannibal said. “I’m hoping you can help me find out who took his life. Have you been in touch with him recently?”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t seen Wash since the day he gave me the money to set this place up,” Sarah said, swirling the liquor in her glass. “That was five years ago.”

  “Five years.” Hannibal repeated her words, lifting his glass and inhaling the aroma from the snifter but not drinking yet. “About the time he committed to Irene.”

  Sarah gave a bitter grin. “Severance pay.”

  “You couldn’t have been with Wash all that time,” Cindy said.

  “No, not all that time. We were together for a while, then I left Wash for a few years because I thought I could see where his life was going. I married a man I thought would take care of me. All he ever gave me was a hard time and three little mouths to feed. When he took off I kind of floated back to Wash. We had some more good times but then he set his sights on a younger girl, so he needed me and mine to disappear.”

  “I see,” Hannibal said. “Severance pay.” Cindy shook her head and tasted her bourbon.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t get mad,” Sarah said. “I had pretty much wasted my life up to then, but I took his cash and my degree and my knowledge of what men really care about, and I started this place. The Lucent has been profitable since year one.”

  “It took me a while to get the name,” Cindy said. “Lucent, meaning luminous, right? Also short for pellucid, a synonym for clear or transparent, not hiding anything. Like your girls.”

  “I’m impressed,” Sarah said. “You picked up the second meaning, but maybe you missed the historic context.”

  “Enlighten us,” Hannibal said.

  Sarah took a small sip of bourbon. “Well, the first building that opened here back in the sixties was called Crystal House and it had this huge crystal chandelier in the lobby. After that they all copied it. Crystal Gateway on that side, Crystal Towers over here. I didn’t want to do that so I called this place Lucent, as in translucent, to kind of resonate with the crystal imagery. Probably nobody noticed but me.”

  “You started a business while still a young mother?” Cindy said. “I for one am impressed.”

  “You don’t know the half of it, sister,” Sarah said, waving the thought away with a hand. “I figured I could use a little help so I got involved with another man. We got married, and he did help recruit the talent, but Sid got too friendly with the hired help and I had to toss him out on his ass.”

  “So there you were,” Hannibal said with as little emotion as possible. “Alone, raising a family while trying to get a business off the ground, and all because Wash Monroe kicked you to the curb for a younger woman. A white girl at that. You must have come to resent him as time passed.”

  “Resent him? Wash was a Godsend in those days.” Sarah tipped her glass up, emptying the contents down her throat. “Look, Wash may not have given a damn about me, but he felt responsible. He made sure the kids had what they needed no matter what. Even paid for surgery when one of them needed it. And when they were old enough, he made sure all four of my boys had jobs, either working for him or for somebody who owed him. Took a lot of the weight off me while I was trying to make it. I don’t know if anybody else will mourn that man, but you can bet your ass I will.” She slammed her glass down on the table as if to put an exclamation point on her sentence.

  A close look into Sarah’s eyes convinced Hannibal that her emotions were real. He was letting a few seconds pass for Sarah to collect herself when Cindy spoke up.

  “So who wanted him dead?”

  “Damned if I know,” Sarah said. “But I sure hope you find the son of a bitch.”

  Beyond that the three exchanged the pleasantries required by polite society but all three knew the conversation was over. Cindy stood when Hannibal did, they thanked their hostess for her time and stepped into the narrow elevator. The second the doors slid closed, Cindy took Hannibal’s arm and spoke in a low tone.

  “I guess this was a dead end, but I’m glad we got to talk to her. A life like hers sure gives you perspective. Impressive lady.”

  Hannibal turned to smile down at her. It was one of the things he loved most about Cindy, her natural tendency to see the best in people. She warmed his heart, and the smile that generated was still there when the elevator doors slid open and a hard black fist drove deep into his stomach.

  -16-

  A hand like a catcher’s mitt smothered Cindy’s scream. Two muscular men squeezed into the narrow box. Cindy’s arm, wrapped around Hannibal’s right arm, had short-circuited his response to the first punch and his other fist didn’t travel far enough to do much damage. He took a couple more solid body blows and a right cross slammed his head back into the wall. Then each of his attackers took one of his arms and half walked half dragged Hannibal’s dazed form out of the elevator. He was just conscious enough to curse himself for letting his guard down.

  Both attackers, young black men, wore pea coats and jeans and thick work boots. Their body odor fought through their coats to assault Hannibal’s nose. He could hear the music of the club muffled by a wall and becoming more and more distant. Both men had strong grips and when Hannibal struggled to free his arms it earned him a sharp shot to the ribs.

  They travelled down a narrow hall and out into the cool evening air. When his eyes began to focus Hannibal saw Cindy close behind him. A third man followed too close to her, and Hannibal saw the glint of a stainless steel revolver in his hand.

  The thin twilight gave way to the harsh lights of a little-used hotel entrance. Hannibal heard a pair of approaching footsteps. The man at the back tucked his gun into his coat pocket. Hannibal heard the man on his right mumble, “He’ll be all right,” as if Hannibal were just sick or drunk. He knew the hall wasn’t really deserted, but that people inside the Beltway were highly skilled at minding their own business.

  In less than a minute they were in one of the underground parking lots that formed an amorphous network beneath Crystal City. Hannibal knew this was the moment to make his move. The lighting was dim, there were plenty of cars to hide behind and there was no telling when someone might wander through. Given a few minutes to get his head together Hannibal knew he could easily take these three amateurs out.

  Then he looked back at Cindy’s face. It was the face of terror. Her wooden steps and shallow breaths revealed the predictable reaction of a good, law-abiding citizen who had never had a firearm pointed at them. He could not rely on her to move quickly or well, even if an opportunity came.

  The shiny prod at her back was more than a fistful for its owner. The short-barreled .44 Magnum would deafen them all if it went off in the parking garage. More importantly, it was not a weapon that required a great deal of precision. If one of those bullets hit you anywhere, even peripherally, it would throw you to the ground. Against his
will, Hannibal pictured Cindy’s organs blossoming out of her chest in front of a .44 Magnum round fired at close range. No, putting her at risk of that was out of the questions. Besides, these guys were young, maybe even just big teenagers. They might not think through their reactions to any trouble he caused.

  Hannibal offered no resistance, even when one of his escorts slammed him into the side of a small Toyota. Hannibal recognized their vehicle as a Rav 4, a compact Sport Utility Vehicle which, to him, was a contradiction in terms. Then the men holding his arms pulled him upright. Number Three swung into view on the other side of the vehicle, dragging Cindy by a fistful of her hair. Hannibal’s gut clenched when he saw that man poke the barrel of his pistol against her temple. Her mouth dropped open but nothing came out but coarse panting. The men holding Hannibal tightened their grips. Now they were waiting for his reaction.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said, forcing his voice to reflect his words. “They don’t really want to hurt you. You’re just here so they can control me. We’ll be okay as long as they know I won’t cause any trouble.”

  The hands on Hannibal’s arms relaxed a bit. The man on his left reached under his jacket and looked disappointed to find no gun under Hannibal’s left arm. He smiled when he found it on the other side.

  “Southpaw, eh?”

  “Yeah, but my right works pretty good too. Want to see?”

  The two men locked eyes and for a moment Hannibal thought he might get a chance to do some damage. If he caused enough confusion he might get close enough to Cindy’s captor to separate them. But then, that man spoke up in a derisive tone.

  “Just get him in the car, Darryl. Don’t let him get you going.”

  Hannibal gave it one more shot. “So this is your brother Darryl, huh? And over here, is this your other brother Darryl?”

  That prompted the man on his right to slam a fist into Hannibal’s ribs. Then he pulled Hannibal’s arms backward and together so Darryl could wrap several layers of duct tape around Hannibal’s wrists. Then Darryl opened the Rav 4’s back door. His partner shoved Hannibal inside and followed him in. When they were settled the gunman opened the door on the other side and shoved Cindy in. Darryl got behind the wheel. The gunman took the passenger seat, his pistol casually pointed between Hannibal and Cindy. They moved like men who had worked together for a long time.