by Diane Kelly
Christina filled us in. “Tweaking is when a drug user has a bad reaction, freaks out.”
Bernice blinked. “Well, whatever you call it, she got up on stage to dance, twirled around the pole a few times, and collapsed. I held her in my arms until the paramedics took her away. A few days later, when she still hadn’t returned to work, I asked Mr. Geils what had happened to her. He claimed he didn’t know.”
Worried, Bernice had gone to Maddie’s house to see if she could find her. A neighbor told Bernice that Maddie remained in the hospital, undergoing treatment for a methamphetamine overdose.
Bernice’s eyes grew misty. “Her daughter had been taken away by Child Protective Services.”
My heart contracted. “That poor little girl.” She must’ve been so scared and confused. Suffer the children.
Christina sighed. “People think they can use speed on occasion for an energy boost, but meth isn’t exactly like caffeine or an energy drink.” She explained how the drug affected levels of a brain neurochemical called dopamine. Dopamine acted as the brain’s reward system and was released during pleasurable activities such as sex and eating food. Methamphetamine caused high amounts of dopamine to collect in the brain, resulting in a euphoric rush. The subsequent depression when real life returned reinforced its use, leaving the user craving more. “It’s not a drug that’s easy to walk away from.”
Bernice told us that she went to the hospital to visit Maddie but the girl refused to see her. “That wasn’t like the Maddie I used to know. She and I had been close.” Fortunately for Maddie’s sake, Bernice was persistent. “Eventually I was able to sneak past the nurse’s station and get to her room. Once she saw me, she burst into tears and told me she’d only used the drugs to stay awake on the job. She never intended to get hooked.”
Christina cocked her head. “Did she say she got the drugs from Geils or one of his men?”
“I asked,” Bernice said, “but she wouldn’t tell me where she got the drugs. She wouldn’t tell me what had gone on in the V.I.P. room, either. But one thing was clear. She wanted out.”
Though Madelyn had yet to finger Geils, it seemed obvious he had supplied her with the meth. When she’d overdosed, she’d been terrified Geils would do something to keep her from being able to talk to law enforcement or testify against him.
“She was ashamed and scared,” Bernice said. “She doesn’t have any family, at least none that care enough about her to help her out, so I used some of my savings to send her to a rehab center. She’s still there now. I managed to convince CPS and the foster parents to allow me to take her daughter there for short visits once a week. God willing, Maddie will stay clean and get her daughter back. She regrets ever trying the stuff. If she hadn’t been so exhausted she never would have taken drugs.”
I’d probably never understand what drove Bernice to a career as a stripper, but one thing was obvious to me. Her heart was as big as her silicone-enhanced breasts.
Moonlighting
Aaron leaned forward and looked around the table. “Maddie won’t talk to law enforcement even though the district attorney offered her immunity. I’m hoping she’ll eventually break and agree to turn state’s witness. Until then, we’ve got to work on obtaining more direct evidence.”
Nick cocked his head. “Why isn’t Dallas PD handling the drug case, too?”
“The drugs go way beyond Dallas,” Christina said.
The DEA suspected that Guys & Dolls, while making some sales locally, served primarily as a distribution center for meth on its way to dealers in Oklahoma. When a dealer in Oklahoma had recently been arrested by state troopers, the phone number for Guys & Dolls was found in his cell phone’s contact list. The cops probably wouldn’t have thought much about it if not for the fact that the address for Guys & Dolls had appeared in the GPS of another dealer who’d been arrested several months before. The local cops figured the two connections to Guys & Dolls had to be more than coincidence. Because they didn’t have jurisdiction beyond the Oklahoma border, however, they’d turned the case over to the DEA. Presumably a new dealer had taken over after the arrests. Who that new dealer might be was anyone’s guess.
“There might even be multiple dealers,” Christina said.
She went on to tell us more about the drug. Crystal meth, also known as speed, chalk, ice, and glass, was very popular, especially among the twentyish crowd. After a rash of explosions at meth labs in Oklahoma and the deaths of several law enforcement officers at the hands of meth producers and users, the Oklahoma legislature was the first in the country to enact laws restricting the sale of pseudoephedrine, the drug’s key ingredient. The impact was profound and the state’s illegal labs dried up virtually overnight.
Unfortunately, the demand for the drug didn’t dry up with the supply. Colombian and Mexican drug cartels stepped in to fill the void, as did entrepreneurial east Texans who could easily and inexpensively manufacture the drug in trailers hidden in the thick and difficult-to-access woods of the Big Thicket.
Our goal was to obtain evidence that Geils and his cohorts at Guys & Dolls were moving drugs, pimping out dancers, and cheating on their taxes. All in a day’s work, right?
“What’s the plan?” I asked. I knew we’d be going undercover, but that was all I’d been told so far about the operation.
Menger glanced my way. “Employee turnover has been high since Geils took over the club.”
Not surprising. The guy sounded like an A-1 A-hole.
“I’ve already landed a job there, tending bar. The rest of you will apply for jobs, too. Once we’re inside, we’ll try to get closer to Geils and his goons, the dancers, too. Whatever it takes to gather evidence.”
Wonderful. Now I’d be working two jobs. As if my special agent position didn’t keep me busy enough.
Menger continued. “The club is looking for dancers—”
“No way!” Christina said. “I am not shaking my boobs for a bunch of horny men.”
Menger rolled his eyes. “Nobody’s asking you to.”
Nick chuckled. “I might.”
Apparently he didn’t want to live much longer. I kicked him under the table. He shot me a wink back, giving another to Christina, letting us know he’d only been joking.
“They’ve got an opening for a cocktail waitress.” Aaron pointed his pen at Christina. “That’s where you come in.”
“Much better,” she said.
“Nick,” Aaron continued, “you’ll apply for a job as a bouncer.”
Nick cracked his knuckles. “I’m on it.”
“What about me?” I owned a perky but small pair of breasts, 32As. Surely they wouldn’t expect me to take a job as a dancer. Besides, the only formal dance experience I had was a year of ballet when I was five. My parents still had the home video of my recital. I spent half my time on stage scratching my ass. Damn itchy tutu. And while I could mix up a mean batch of Nick’s mother’s peach sangria recipe, my mixed drink repertoire was severely limited. I’d make a lousy bartender. “Will I apply for a waitress job, too?”
“No,” Aaron said. “They’re looking for evening help in their cash office. That seems more up your alley.”
Bookkeeping. No problem. The job would also put me in a better position to determine if there was any financial hankypanky going on. But I had to admit I was a little miffed they hadn’t mentioned the possibility of me dancing. My A-cups were offended. I might not be able to fill a bra, but that had never stopped guys from trying to get in my pants. I suppose my unconventional, rebellious ways made them think that what I lacked in boobage I’d make up for in enthusiasm.
We all stood to go.
Bernice offered us a weak smile. “See you all at the office.”
ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS TITLES BY DIANE KELLY
Death, Taxes, and a French Manicure
Death, Taxes, and a Skinny No-Whip Latte
Death, Taxes, and Extra-Hold Hairspray
Death, Taxes, and a Sequined Clutch (an e-origin
al novella)
About the Author
DIANE KELLY is a tax attorney by day, writer by night. A recipient of the 2009 Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award for Best Novel with Strong Romantic Elements, she has received more than two dozen RWA chapter awards. Diane’s fiction, tax and humor pieces have appeared in True Love magazine, Writer’s Digest Yearbook, Romance Writers Report, ByLine Magazine, and other publications.
For more information,
visit her Web site at www.dianekelly.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
DEATH, TAXES, AND PEACH SANGRIA
Copyright © 2013 by Diane Kelly.
Excerpt from Death, Taxes, and Hot-Pink Leg Warmers copyright © 2013 by Diane Kelly.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
www.stmartins.com
eISBN: 9781466814769
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / February 2013
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
