“Very well,” Bobbi said. “Now for the fees. There is nothing cheap about the services we offer. What we will be providing you with is something unique and therefore a premium fee is warranted. Along with this uniqueness comes great risk to my employer. So if you don’t have a healthy financial base, we might as well end this now.”
“Tell him money’s not a problem and that you understand,” Alan prompted.
“You needn’t worry about that—money’s not a factor. And I already expect this to be expensive.”
“Excellent. So tell me Paddy, what would you like us to provide for you?”
“A girl. Not yet a teen. The smaller the better.”
“Any particular ethnicity?”
“I prefer Hispanic, but she would have to speak English. I don’t really care where she comes from as long as she knows the language.”
“I see. Anything else?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“How much experience would a girl like this have? I mean, will she know what to do or will I have to show her?”
They all three laughed in unison.
“Did you really ask that?” Marco chuckled.
“Uh, yeah. What’s so funny?”
“Let me ask you the same question and you think about it. How innocent would you expect her to be? What would your guess be?’
“I see what you mean. It’s just that it sounded like Gumbo’s girl—the one he played Santa with—was well, you know. Pretty innocent. So I thought—”
“So what you’re telling me is that you want a virgin? Is that it?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess so.”
“Have you any idea how much that would set you back? I mean, anything is possible, but it all comes at a price. And getting a girl who hasn’t been fully broken in, so to speak, is not only very rare but very pricey. Gumbo is worth millions. And that’s how he has been able to find the love of his life. I don’t want to sound presumptuous, but I have a feeling you’re not quite in the same ballpark financially. Correct me if I’m wrong.”
The waiter suddenly showed up with their drinks. After they were served and the waiter left, Alan spoke into his hand. “Remind him that you already said money is no object.”
“As I said before, money is no object,” Doug said.
“Oh, then I stand corrected. My bad. May I ask what line of work you are in, just for the record?”
“I own a string of restaurants.”
“I see, very well. So assuming that we can come up with the goods, would you be able to pay in advance in cash?”
“Of course,” replied Doug.
“Very well. I’ll pass this on to my boss and see what he says. I must say that you seem more self-confident in person than you do in the chat room, Paddy. I’m both surprised and impressed.”
“Thanks, Bobbi. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“A couple more things before we’re through with business here. Assuming that your request is confirmed, this is how it works. First you will be contacted and you will then tell me what days and times will work best for you for our services. A specific date will be established and on that day you will bring whatever amount is required in cash—no bills larger than twenties— to a specified place a few hours prior to your appointment. After payment is made, you’ll be informed of where you are to go to receive our services. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“If for some reason you fail to comply with these instructions, you will forfeit your payment. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now reach out your hand under the table and I’ll hand you an unregistered phone. You are to use it for all communication with me.”
Alan saw Doug slip his hand under the table and then stuff the burner into his jacket pocket.
“One other thing. You must carry that phone with you at all times until you have heard back from me. You got it?”
“Got it.”
Okay. I’m a pretty good judge of character Paddy, and I feel good about you. I’ll be sure to pass that on.”
“I appreciate that.”
Alan whispered, “Ask him when you’ll be hearing back from him.”
“May I ask when I’ll hear back from you?”
“Can’t say for sure. Could be a day, could be a week. Or longer. You’ll just have to be patient.”
“I see.”
“I’d like you to leave now, Paddy. No offense, but I like to keep things as brief as possible. Surely you understand.”
“Of course.”
Doug took one last slug of his beer and stood up.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
Alan watched as Doug headed for the front of the bar and left. He resumed watching the table where Bobbi was now chatting it up with his chat line cohorts. The cat was out of the bag now: Bobbi was not like the others and was in fact the pimp. It was he who supplied the goods while the others were simply clients paying a lot of money to have sex with children.
He remained at the bar long enough to finish his beer and then quietly slipped away.
CHAPTER 20
A little more than two weeks had passed since the morning Deputy Sheriff Dan Canter had stood on her porch, patiently awaiting a response to his relentless knocking. Finally he heard her approach.
“Who is it?” a small, muffled voice asked from behind the door.
“Sheriff’s department, ma’am,” he replied.
There was the clack of a deadbolt and the door opened a few inches. Mrs. Wilburn peered out through the crack.
“What’s wrong?” she asked nervously.
“I just need to ask you a couple of questions—nothing to get alarmed about.”
She sighed in relief and swung the door open. Mrs. Wilburn was wearing a powder blue terrycloth robe and her hair was still wet from the shower she had just taken. She was in her early thirties and very attractive. Not exactly what he would consider beautiful, but a far cry from shabby.
She looked him over from head to toe, clearly not expecting to see a deputy sheriff wearing jeans and a hoodie. The only clue that he was legit, besides the patrol car parked outside in the driveway, was the black tee shirt he wore that simply read “SHERIFF” in bold gold letters, visible through the V of his partially zipped sweatshirt.
“Can I see some I.D?” she asked. “I’m sorry, but you know—you can never be too careful nowadays.”
She smiled apologetically as she spoke—as if to make it seem like her request was a mere formality.
“Of course,” he said.
He pulled out his badge case, flipped it open and held it up to the screen so she could see it.
“I’ve been working undercover, ma’am. Deputy Sheriff Dan Canter.”
She scrutinized the badge. “Thanks, officer. Would you like to come inside?”
He nodded. “If you don’t mind. I won’t take much of your time.”
He opened the screen door and stepped inside. The smell of fresh coffee greeted him and his stomach growled. She led him into the living room and motioned for him to sit down on the sofa. He shook his head.
“No thanks, this will only take a moment. We’ve been investigating a person we believe to be running a methamphetamine lab in the area. Do you by any chance know a Clarence Mason?”
“Never heard of him. Does he live around here?”
“No, but we think he has a partner living in this vicinity who’s part of the operation Mason runs. We’re trying to locate their lab, which we believe is operating in fairly close proximity to this area. Have you ever seen any suspicious activity or noticed the strong odor of ammonia at any time?”
“No, not really.”
“What do you mean, ‘not really?’”
“Well, I’ve smelled ammonia outside before, but it could have been cat pee or a skunk. I can’t say that it was definitely an ammonia smell, you know?”
“I see. How about an excessive am
ount of plastic soda bottles, antifreeze or paint thinner containers in any of your neighbor’s trash?”
“No, can’t say as I have. There are only a couple of neighbors nearby, and I’m pretty sure they aren’t into making drugs.”
He nodded and then reached into his pocket, pulled out a card, and handed it to her. “Okay, then. Would you mind giving me a call if you suspect anything?”
“Not at all, officer,” she replied, looking the card over.
He started heading for the door, stopped suddenly and turned around.
“Oh, just one more thing,” he said, smiling.
“Yes?”
He whisked a hunting knife out from behind his back, seized the startled woman by the arm, held her from behind and brought the blade to her throat.
“I’d like a cup of that wonderful smelling coffee.”
“What the—” she cried.
He spun her around and faced her, still grinning. “No lip—just do as I say and nobody will get hurt. Understood?”
“Who are you?”
He backhanded her hard. “The boss,” he snapped. “Now, about that coffee?”
She touched her cheek where he’d struck her, a look of mortal fear in her eyes.
Now we’re getting somewhere, he thought.
He gave her a push and she started moving. He followed closely behind until they entered the kitchen where he plopped down on a chair at the table.
“I take it black,” he said in a matter of fact tone. “You have any cookies to go with it?”
Mrs. Wilburn walked over to a cabinet and took out a coffee mug.
“I’m afraid not,” she replied weakly.
“Shit, figures. Pour yourself a cup too, Jodi. We need to take care of a little business.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Oh, I know quite a lot about you. Probably more than you could ever guess.”
She fell silent and tried to keep her hand steady enough to pour the coffee. Then she carried the cup over and set it in front of him.
He took a sip. “Um, that’s good. Maxwell House?” he asked, the cynicism in his voice not lost to Mrs. Wilburn.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Now sit down, Jodi,” he commanded.
She pulled up a chair and reluctantly sat down. She stared past him, unable to look him directly in the eyes. She did not like the way he was looking at her.
“Check this out,” he said.
She watched in horror as he pulled out a small caliber gun from a shoulder holster concealed under his hoodie. He pointed it directly at the center of her chest.
“This makes me the boss. You are going to do exactly as I tell you to do without question or resistance. Got it?”
“Y-yes,” she whimpered.
“Good. First of all, I want to take a good look at what you’ve got under that robe. I’d like you to remove it now—slowly—without getting out of your chair.”
“No, please don’t!”
“Huh-uh. That’s not gonna cut it. Remember what I said?”
“But why—”
He pulled back the hammer of the revolver. It made a resounding click. “Do you really want to die, Jodi?”
The sound of the gun being cocked brought her to her senses. It always did, he thought to himself.
Hesitantly, Jodi brought her hands to the collar of her robe and pulled it off her shoulders. As she did, she could feel the officer’s menacing eyes upon her, burning into her very soul. She let the robe fall to her waist. The air felt icy cold upon her exposed breasts, making her shiver even more.
The deputy let out a long sigh.
“Lookin’ sweet!” he murmured, nearly a whisper. “Now take them in your hands and squeeze ‘em.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I’m the boss, remember? Now, do as I say.”
Reluctantly, she squeezed her breasts for him. Her mind was already racing ahead, wondering what he would force her to do next.
“Very nice. Keep doing that.”
She continued fondling her breasts, trying hard to distance herself from the reality of the situation. It wasn’t working. When it suddenly dawned on her that this man was most likely going to kill her, her thoughts switched over to her family and how much they would grieve for her. She was too young to die. If only he would let her live after he was done playing this game—
“Stand up, now,” he commanded.
She stopped touching herself and stood up. His eyes were trained on her midriff.
“Take it all the way off.”
She untied the belt and let the robe fall to her feet. She was relieved she had put on panties after her shower.
“Perfect! Now come around here so I can take a really good look at you.”
Jodi winced at the sickening thought of him touching her. She was frozen in place.
“Now!” he shouted.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. Jodi stepped around the table and stood beside the officer. He arose, kept the gun pointed at her with one hand and brought his other hand to her breast. She flinched at his touch and felt the urge to break away, but the gun made it clear that this would be a bad move.
As if on cue, he brought the barrel of the gun to her left breast and prodded it repeatedly. Aware that she was only the minute distance between hammer and firing pin from certain death, she began trembling uncontrollably.
“On your knees,” he ordered, his voice now taking on a guttural quality. “I believe I’m ready now.”
He removed the gun from her breast and watched Jodi go down on her knees. Seized by a mixture of terror and nausea, she awaited his next command.
“Pull down my pants—easy now. And put this on.”
He handed her a condom. It took all she had left to unfasten his belt, undo his pants and do as she was told. Then she suddenly felt a hand come from behind her head and press her toward him.
“Good. Now do it, bitch.”
The minutes seemed like hours to Jodi. Finally he started panting faster as she fought back the urge to bite down on him as hard as she could to make him pay for what he’d forced her to do.
But the loaded gun pressed against her temple advised her to refrain.
“Jesus Christ!” he shouted as he came. Jodi was thankful for the condom he had made her put on him but at the same time was all too aware of what that was all about: to avoid any collectible DNA evidence at her autopsy.
He made a couple more quick thrusts into her face before withdrawing himself from her mouth. She avoided looking up at him and instead stared vacantly down at the floor, enormously relieved that it was finally over.
“Get up,” he commanded.
Jodi arose slowly, the gun never leaving her head.
“Gotta say, that felt really good,” he said. He removed the condom from his limp penis, fastened his jeans and stuffed the condom into the pocket of his hoodie.
“I’ll keep this as a souvenir,” he smiled. “Now that we’ve had our fun, it’s time to get down to business. I understand that your dear grandmother left you a sizeable inheritance last year. I also know that you have stashed it somewhere in this house—you have little or no faith in the banks. What I want you to do now is take me to where it is.”
Jodi was speechless. How could he know this? It just wasn’t possible. Without thinking it through, she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He backhanded her so hard she was certain he’d broken her jaw.
“You’re shitting me, right?” he snapped. “You must have some kind of death wish, woman! Let’s not forget who the boss is here and don’t even think you’re gonna bullshit me like that again! Show me where that fucking loot is now!”
Reeling from the blow, Jodi leaned down to pick up her robe and started to put it on.
“You’re not wearing that—drop it and lead the way.”
The grim reality of what was happening and what still might be in store for her seized Jodi
like a vice. Fifteen minutes ago she had just finished her morning shower and brewed a pot of fresh coffee. Now she was a prisoner in her own home, totally at the mercy of an evil, demented officer of the law. He had forced her to give him a blowjob and now he was going to take all of her money. And after that, he was going to take her life—she was certain of that now.
“It’s downstairs,” she said, barely a whisper.
She circled the kitchen table and crossed the room to a door in the far corner. Deputy Dan Canter followed closely behind and stood by as she opened the door. He reached around her and switched on the basement lights.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Jodi led the way down the rickety stairway and stopped when she reached the bottom. “How do you know about my inheritance?”
“Let’s just say that being a law officer has its perks and leave it at that. And if that money isn’t somewhere in this fucking dungeon, you’re going to really be regretting it. Now lead the way.”
Jodi glanced over at the utility room, making a quick scan of the basement, searching hysterically for anything she might use as a weapon or means of distraction along the way.
Like she was somehow going to be able to overpower this nut case holding a gun to the back of her head? Seriously?
As she led the way to the utility room, Jodi wondered if Nick was somehow behind this. He was the only person who knew about her hatred of banks since they had screwed up her credit years ago. There had supposedly been some kind of computer glitch that resulted in a sizable deposit she had made never being credited to her account. Subsequently, a half dozen checks had bounced for lack of sufficient funds. When the bank realized it had screwed up, they didn’t even inform her creditors what had happened, making her look like some kind of deadbeat.
Ever since then, she had refused to put any of her money in a bank again, opting to hold onto it and use either cash or money orders for purchases. She had eventually asked Nick to install a safe to help keep her savings safe and secure.
But if Nick were behind this, she thought, he would most likely have told this creep where the safe was hidden. The deputy apparently didn’t have a clue.
As certain as Jodi was that she was going to be killed, a small part of her told her not to let this asshole know where she kept her valuables. It was the only trump card she had and she was certain he would never be able to find the hidden safe himself—never in a million years. And then, if she somehow survived this, long shot that it was, she would still have her nest egg.
Double Trouble Page 19
