“What's a working girl to do?” I said.
“Something like that,” Candy said.
“How long have Diamond and Barlow been dating?”
“For about two or three months now,” Candy said.
“I take it Diamond is her stripper name?”
“Yeah,” Candy said. “Her real name is Tamara.”
“Do you know her last name?”
Candy thought and eventually replied, “Wallace.”
“Tamara, aka Diamond, working today?” I said.
“No,” Candy said. “She only works on weekends.”
“Do you know where Tamara lives? Or if Barlow will see her later?”
“I don't know where she lives,” Candy said. “But after Barlow gets all hot and bothered here, he usually hooks up with her.”
“Good to know,” I said.
I heard the click-clack of Cinnamon's heels before I saw her approach the table.
“You girls better get back to work,” she said to Candy, Bambi, and Sparkles. “Gordie will be here any minute.”
“Thanks for your time,” I said.
“Any time, cutie,” Bambi said.
“Next time maybe we can convince you to get that lap dance,” Sparkles said.
“I'm sure you are very good at what you do,” I said, “but I doubt there will be a next time.”
“Your loss,” Sparkles said.
“Probably,” I said. “But it is my cross to bear.”
Candy, Bambi, and Sparkles got up. They removed their bikini tops and handed them to Cinnamon.
“Thanks, darling,” Candy said to Cinnamon. Candy turned and looked at me. “See you around, handsome.” She winked at me.
Wow, a cutie and a handsome in the same afternoon. What was an ace detective to think? I guess I still had it. Whatever it was.
A group of businessmen entered the club with wide grins and fists full of cash from the ATM. It didn't take long for Candy, Bambi, and Sparkles to each find the lap of a paying customer.
“Be careful with whatever they told you,” Cinnamon said to me. Seriousness replaced her effervescent personality.
“Just a friendly chat,” I said.
“Gordie doesn't like anyone, and I mean anyone, messing with either his girls or his regular clients.”
“Unless it is a regular client and one of his girls doing the messing around.”
“If you're talking about Mr. Barlow and Diamond, Gordie is especially protective.”
“Of Diamond or Barlow?” I said.
“Both,” Cinnamon said.
“Fascinating,” I said. “Other than money, is there a particular reason?”
Cinnamon smiled at me. Then she said, “Money is the only reason.” She paused a beat. “And Gordie doesn't like it when somebody gets between him and the green.”
“So it really has nothing to do with the people involved?” I said.
“People are a means to an end for Gordie,” Cinnamon said with a snort.
“And the end is money?”
“Now you're catching on,” she said to me.
Cinnamon picked up my empty glass from the table. She didn't ask if I wanted another Coke. Her heels click-clacked as she walked away.
CHAPTER 5
BRODY
The girl was more aware of her surroundings than Phillip Swanson had been. It was like she knew she was being followed. Impossible, he thought. He was a pro when it came to staying in the shadows. He had never been made. But Brody couldn't deny the girl's extreme caution.
Perhaps she was simply hyper-vigilant. A young woman living and working in a big city. Maybe she heard about Phillip Swanson's death through company gossip. Poor guy being mugged and choked to death right inside the door to his home.
Whatever the reason, the girl was cautious. Brody had followed her for a few days, and she varied her routine each day. She also stayed in very public spaces until she reached either work or home. He couldn't get her at work. And her apartment building had secured entry and a person at the door twenty-four hours.
Too risky, Brody thought. He'd need a different plan.
Brody stood across from the Boston offices of Barlow, Hughes, and Waterford. It was the law firm's headquarters, and occupied an entire building in downtown Boston. The girl would be getting off work soon. He would observe her for a little longer.
Observation and patience would lead to success in the job. After all, the girl wasn't a pro at a game of cat and mouse. Sooner or later an opportunity would present itself and he would get his mouse.
CHAPTER 6
DREW PATRICK
I sat at the bar in Sorellina restaurant located in Copley Square next to Boston Public Library. The building's exterior was in keeping with the historic library, but the inside was modern chic. Light beige curtains, soft-toned leather, and quilted drapery fabric gave the restaurant a warm look. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a nice view out onto Huntington Avenue. The mural wall, cork flooring, and floating panel ceiling enthralled me.
From my vantage point, I could monitor Nevin Barlow as he ate and drank like Henry VIII with four associates. Two of those associates were Kitten Club Gordie and Leo Mancini. None of the associates were Tamara Wallace. But the night was still young, so I would stick with Nevin until he was home for the evening.
I recognized two FBI agents, posing as a married couple, keeping eyes on the five men. I was certain the agents also recognized me. There were no acknowledgments.
Barlow and gang were still going strong when I finished dinner. I paid my check and would continue my surveillance from Copley Square. As I exited Sorellina's and headed down Huntington Avenue, a window buzzed down on a blue Ford Taurus.
“Fancy meeting you twice in one day,” Special Agent Mark Sumners said from the driver's seat.
“You feds get the best parking spots,” I replied as I leaned in through the open passenger window.
Sumners smiled at me. “Job has some perks,” he said. “Hop in.”
I opened the door and got in. Sumners buzzed the window up. He turned down the sound system.
“Kings and Queens?” I said referencing the song as it faded.
“I remember seeing Aerosmith at Great Woods in Mansfield the summer of '94,” Sumners said. “They opened with Eat the Rich and led off a three-song encore with Dream On.”
“What they close with?”
“Walk This Way.”
“I almost forgot it was called Great Woods back in the day,” I said. “Now it's named after one of the cable companies.”
“Seems every sports and concert venue has corporate sponsorship.”
“Not Fenway Park,” I said.
“Never at Fenway,” Sumners said.
“Let's hope not.”
“So you are running up quite a tab on Elizabeth Barlow,” Mark commented.
“Her husband likes to throw his money around.”
“Finding anything useful?”
“Regarding your case,” I said, “I may have one piece of information.” I told him about Gordie. “Other than that, you probably know what I do about their dinner. I saw Clancy and Kirkland in Sorellina's.”
“Your tax dollars at work,” Sumners said. “How about your case?”
“I didn't know you cared,” I said as I rested my hands over my heart.
“I don't,” Sumners said. “but I've been sitting alone for over an hour.”
“Stakeouts can be a lonely venture,” I said. “You should get yourself a dog.”
“Amanda is allergic.”
Amanda was his wife of ten years. They were college sweethearts and married after he graduated from the FBI Academy.
“I could let you borrow Dash.”
“Does he like Aerosmith?”
“He has an eclectic taste in music, just like his dad.”
The bells at Trinity Episcopal Church chimed from across Copley Square. I looked out the window towards Boston Public Library. The stone lions stood watch.
> “I have the name of Barlow's girlfriend.”
Sumners looked at me. “That's progress,” he said.
“I had to question three strippers to get it.”
“You should have led with that.”
“I bet now you're interested?” I said.
“Sure,” he said. “Your story involves strippers.”
I told him about my conversation with Candy, Bambi, and Sparkles. I left out any mention of the strippers on stage. He could use his imagination.
“You private eyes have all the fun,” he said when I finished.
“It’s not all glamour,” I said. “Sometimes we have to deal with hoodlums who try to beat us up or shoot at us.”
“There is that,” Sumners said.
A group of convention attendees staying at the Westin hotel walked past the car. A couple emerged from Sorellina's. The young woman was staring at a diamond on her left ring finger. She was positively giddy.
“Looks like you missed the proposal,” Mark commented to me as he tapped my shoulder and pointed at the young couple.
“Young love,” I said.
“You ever going to marry Jessica?”
“We don't want to get married,” I said. “Don't need to. We work the way things are.”
“Fair enough,” Sumners said.
“What do you make of the connection between Gordie, Barlow, and Mancini?” I said.
“Probably the same as you.”
“That the Kitten Club is laundering money as part of Mancini's network and Barlow is more than the Mancini family lawyer for wills and trusts?”
“That would be my guess,” Sumners said.
“Now that I know about Barlow's girlfriend,” I said, “I should have my evidence of the affair by the end of the week.”
“Let me guess,” Sumners said, “you want in on our investigation?”
“My interest is piqued. I figured I could poke around the edges and see what turns up.”
Sumners looked at me and said, “Sounds like a good a plan as any.”
Nevin Barlow and his four associates exited Sorellina's. Two large men I had noticed in the restaurant flanked Barlow. The two didn’t exactly blend in, so they must have been seated out of my line of vision. I figured them for bodyguards. Most attorneys did not travel with that type of personal protection.
Gordie walked past us up Huntington Avenue. A BMW SUV picked up Leo Mancini.
“Time to go,” I said to Sumners, and I hopped out of his car. He pulled out of his parking spot and followed Mancini in the BMW. The other two men walked in the direction of the Westin. Nevin Barlow's black Mercedes sedan pulled up and double-parked on Huntington Avenue. Barlow and one of the men got in back. The other man got in the front passenger seat. I walked to the corner and got in my car.
The black Mercedes sedan carrying Nevin Barlow left Copley Square and headed straight to Barlow's estate in Brookline. I drove past slowly as the Benz pulled through an open iron gate. The gate closed behind the sedan. The car's tail lights disappeared as it rounded a bend in the long driveway.
I continued past the sprawling estate and headed for Cambridge. My phone rang and the number appeared on my center console display. I recognized the 617 Boston area code, but not the rest of the number.
“Drew Patrick,” I answered through the magic of bluetooth.
“Hello,” the female voice said. “This is Candy. I need your help.”
“Where are you?”
“Diner across from the Kitten Club. Please hurry.”
CHAPTER 7
The diner was empty except for Candy and two sanitation workers on the night shift. The sanitation workers sat at the counter. Candy was in a booth near the back. I almost didn't recognize her wearing jeans and a Bruins shirt, with her long hair pulled into a ponytail.
“Thanks for coming,” she said when I sat down opposite her. She didn't look up. Her face was turned to the right with her eyes fixed on the glass of water in front of her. She swirled a straw around in the water. Ice cubes clanked against the glass and a wedge of lemon bobbed on top.
“Let me see,” I said.
Candy slowly turned her head to reveal a bruised right cheek.
“How did it happen?” I said.
“Gordie smacked me around, as well as Cinnamon, Bambi, and Sparkles.”
I took in a deep breath and exhaled. The waitress came over. Her name tag read April.
“You going to find the asshole did that to her?” April asked.
I nodded my head.
“Good,” April said. “I told her she should call the police. You a cop?”
“Private detective,” I said.
“No cops,” Candy said.
April looked at me. I shrugged.
“Well,” April said, “he looks like he can handle it.”
“Absolutely,” I replied confidently.
“Can I get you anything?” April asked.
“Decaf coffee.”
“Coming right up.”
One of the sanitation workers dropped change into an old-fashioned jukebox. Surf City by Jan and Dean started playing.
“Tell me what happened,” I said after April left.
Candy looked at me. Her soft green eyes displayed the same concern I could hear in her voice.
“Gordie found out we were talking to you. He was pretty pissed.”
April came back with my decaf coffee. I thanked her. April nodded and walked over to the counter. She started chatting with the two sanitation workers. They appeared to be regulars.
“How are they?” I asked.
“The same as me.” She paused a moment. “Cinnamon got it a little worse. But she's doing okay, all things considered.”
“Any of them filing charges?”
“No,” Candy said. “They're afraid of Gordie. They didn't even want to call you.”
“But you did,” I said.
“I had no idea what to do. I'm scared too. But I couldn't let this go.”
“I'm glad you called,” I said.
I took a sip of my coffee. Probably the worst cup of coffee in Boston. I took another sip all the same.
“I realize it might be hard, but tell me exactly what happened.”
“After you left earlier,” she said, “Gordie arrived at the club. Charlie, the bartender, told Gordie we received payment but didn't perform for you. At first Gordie shrugged it off. You paid us. He got his cut. Whatevs, ya know?”
“Then what happened?”
“Charlie told him you were a private investigator, and that you were asking questions about Mr. Barlow.”
“How did Charlie know who I was and what we discussed?”
“He asked Bambi and Sparkles. They didn't think anything of it. Charlie has always seemed like a nice enough guy.”
“Okay,” I said. “So the three of you talking to me about Barlow upset Gordie. What happened next?”
“Gordie called Cinnamon, Bambi, Sparkles, and me, into his office. He wanted us to tell him what we discussed. We told him it was nothing. He got really mad and knocked Cinnamon around. We couldn't do anything. Gordie had these two gorillas in there with him.”
“Who were the two gorillas?” I said.
“Bruno and Paulie,” Candy replied. “I’m not sure what they do. I guess they are Gordie's bodyguards or something.”
“What happened next?”
“We told Gordie what we discussed.” Candy began crying. “Drew, I'm sorry,” she said through her tears. “We didn't think we had any other choice.”
“You didn't,” I said. “And you don't need to apologize. I'm sorry this happened to you and the other girls.”
“Not your fault, either,” Candy said. She wiped her tears with a napkin.
“Except this happened because you talked to me.”
“It happened because Gordie is an asshole,” she said.
“When did he hit you?”
“After we told him about our conversation,” she said. “He smack
ed each of us across the face. He told us it was punishment for talking about one of his best clients. Told us it would be worse if we ever stepped out of line again.”
“I will see to it that Gordie never touches you, or anyone else, again.”
“He'll have Bruno and Paulie with him,” Candy said.
“Let me worry about Bruno and Paulie,” I said. “What are you and the other girl's going to do?”
Candy stared out the window. A street light flickered.
“Cinnamon quit and broke up with Gordie. She planned to leave when she graduated from college anyway, and she only has to finish a summer session.” Candy looked back at me. “I've got a two-year-old at home. I need the work, and the money is good. But I won't be there forever. I'm saving to go back to school.”
“And Bambi and Sparkles?” I said.
Candy shrugged. “I'm not sure. I don't think either Bambi or Sparkles have many other options.”
We sat in silence for a while. April laughed at something one of the sanitation workers said. Two EMTs entered the diner and sat in a booth near the front. April went to take their order.
“How do you plan to deal with Gordie?” Candy asked me.
“I'll reason with him,” I said. “Make sure he understands it's not in his best interest to hit women.”
“I'm not sure Gordie will respond to reason,” Candy said.
“Then I will resort to other measures.”
“Like what?” she asked.
I wiped the corners of my mouth with a napkin. Then I said, “Whatever it takes.”
CHAPTER 8
I crossed the street to the Kitten Club. Gordie had a full house. Several waitresses served drinks at the tables. Dancers swung around all three poles on stage. A muscular guy wearing a skin-tight red tee-shirt and black slacks eyed me as I stood near the entrance. He came over.
“Take a seat or beat it,” he said.
Muscle Man was close to my height. He had a buzz cut which made him look like a drill sergeant.
“I'm looking for Gordie,” I said. “He around?”
Deception Page 3
