All in all, she looked like she would be worth the effort it would take to clean up the mess and salvage the situation with Sledge Aiken. Ricky didn’t let those thoughts show as he took a seat behind the old-fashioned cherrywood desk. Without a word, he opened an expensive humidor and began to prepare an illegally imported Cuban cigar.
Kelly sat in a chair and looked down at her intertwined fingers. The knuckles were white from the pressure of holding her hands together, and she could hear the sound of her pulse over everything else in the room. She jolted slightly when Jerry spoke from beside her.
“There was no need to involve yourself here, Ricky. I’ve got the situation under control.” Jerry crossed the ankle of one leg over the knee of the other and tried for a casual and disinterested pose. In reality, his cushy relationship with Club Red was on the line—and he knew it.
“Was it under control when this brat ran away from your house and talked to the police?” Ricky asked calmly. He raised an eyebrow and took a puff off the cigar, before blowing the cloying smoke across the desk at Jerry. “When she brought charges against one of our best customers?”
Jerry shifted defensively, pulling his thinning bangs down over his forehead in an unattractive habit that served to draw attention to his receding hairline. “No charges were ever filed, the police just investigated because it was procedure. Aiken’s lawyer put their case into a tailspin, and the police aren’t even supposed to speak to him directly again. Now that Kelly’s back with us, it will all go away.”
“That’s assuming you can keep her here this time,” Ricky said with a puff. “I understand she ran away even after you tried, ah, physical persuasion. So if smacking her around doesn’t work, what are you going to do differently this time?”
“She’s a smart girl. She can be reasoned with—watch how I handle her.”
Ricky watched impassively as Jerry reached out and grabbed a fistful of Kelly’s blond hair and lifted her head to meet his eyes.
“We haven’t really had a chance to talk since you came back, Kelly. But I want to tell you how much you’re going to regret not being nicer to me—or to Sledge. He’s a stupid fuck, but he can be manipulated. He’s got fabulous connections, and if you give him what he wants, he can be a very generous man.”
Kelly’s stomach lurched from the combination of cigar smoke and the memory of Sledge’s brand of generosity.
“That’s right—you really blew that one,” Jerry continued, misunderstanding her expression. “One of his old college buddies is a record executive. Didn’t I tell you I’d hook you up? But you had to play the frigid bitch and piss Aiken off when you cried rape. And after I’d broken you in so nicely for him,” he sneered.
Kelly’s face turned white at his words. When she’d been introduced to Jerry by a girl she’d met at the bus station, he’d offered to let her stay with him while she was finding her way around LA. Soon after, he’d begun to pay special attention to her. She had thought that he’d been interested in her as a girlfriend.
She’d been grateful, flattered, and completely out of her league. It had taken Jerry weeks of friendly flirtation, candlelit dinners, and overt seduction that focused on all she owed him to finally get Kelly into bed. She’d thought it was the beginning of her first serious relationship.
Until the next night, when Jerry had sent her out on a date with Sledge Aiken. Set her up.
The knowledge that she had been betrayed so absolutely sat in her stomach like a lead weight. In a state of shock that made the moment seem surreal, she wondered what she’d done to deserve something like this. Then Jerry began speaking again.
“When Mindy brought you to my place from the LA Greyhound station, I saw something special. I could have made you a star at Club Red, which would have opened other doors for you. Now I’m thinking you don’t deserve anything that good. Unless you give me a reason not to, I’m going to have to make other plans for you.”
Kelly swallowed against the dryness in her throat. “Like sending me home?”
“Hell, no. You know too much for that, and you owe me. I was thinking about Tijuana.”
Kelly’s eyes widened. Even she had heard of Tijuana—also known as T.J., the ragged city of sin across the border in Mexico. Historically, sailors visiting the naval port of San Diego went down there in droves, as did college students from all over California. The city was seething and swarming, the proverbial den of iniquity, where every vice had a home, and nothing was above being bought or sold. Not even people.
“I can see you like the idea,” Jerry said. “Since you wouldn’t be nice to Sledge, maybe I can make some money off you by sending you to T.J. Sleeping with fifteen sailors a day will teach you not to bite the hand that feeds you.”
She shook her head frantically and held the back of one hand to her mouth to keep from crying.
“Oh, you’d get used to it. It wouldn’t be as bad for you as it would for your little brother. What’s his name—Taylor?”
“No, please,” Kelly begged, as tears finally began to fall.
“Yeah, we could pick him up from his little primary school in Hays, Kansas. Maybe bring him down to T.J. to work with you.” Jerry smacked his forehead. “Wait, we could make even more money selling him to a private collector on the Internet. There are all kinds of perverts online, and some have the money to pay for a private boy toy of their own.”
“Please, I’ll be good. I’ll do anything if you leave Taylor alone,” Kelly sobbed. She was his big sister, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do to protect him from the hell she had already endured.
“So you’ll behave and do what I say—without complaining or crying?” Jerry asked.
“I promise,” Kelly said in a broken voice.
Ricky looked unconvinced, so Jerry tightened his grip on Kelly’s hair. “I’ll give you a week to prove that you’re with the new program. You’ll continue your training at the club, but will have a guard with you at all times. The girls will be told not to talk to you and will report everything you do back to me.”
Kelly nodded cautiously, feeling a small spark of hope about being able to spare her brother.
“And I’ll have the cell phone number of our guy in Kansas at all times. One call from me, and young Taylor will disappear from the playground and be sold to the highest bidder.”
The kernel of hope inside her died with those words. Jerry saw the defeat that replaced it and smiled grimly. With a nod at Ricky, he brought Kelly to her feet and led her to the door. In the hallway, one of the bouncers stood waiting.
“Take her downstairs to the hostess station. Don’t take your eyes off her until I tell you otherwise. See that she isn’t alone with anyone,” Jerry said to the man.
When the door closed, Ricky spoke. “I have big plans for expanding my business empire. No little runaway from the cornfields is going to ruin them. How much does she know?”
Jerry shrugged. “I never talked about anything big in front of her. And all the arrangements were made from public pay phones, so she can’t know anything about the real estate and consulting stuff. Even if she did, she wouldn’t talk. She spent her first few weeks here talking about how much she hated her parents but loved her brother. She’ll stay quiet to protect him.”
“From what? Your imaginary colleague in Kansas?” Ricky scoffed.
“Don’t you love working with the teenagers? They’ll believe anything you tell them. She’ll be a model worker, believe me.”
“Fine. But if there is any sign that she’s going to be a liability, I’ll take her up to the cabin and lose her in the mountains.”
Jerry shrugged again. “Whatever.”
Chapter 22
Santa Monica, California
Sunday evening, March 7
Tessa heard the knock on her door late Sunday evening. She set aside the papers she’d been working on and padded across the living room. After a quick glance through the peephole, she undid the various locks and opened the door.
“W
hat’s up?” she asked Luke as she pulled her comfortable old bathrobe tighter around her body.
Luke walked into the hall without permission. “Like the shoes, Swiss.”
She looked down and wiggled her toes inside a pair of threadbare Tweety and Sylvester slippers. “Thanks. Kevin got them for me years ago—they’re really comfy. Did you come by to discuss footwear?”
“No, I just thought it had been a while since we’d checked in with each other. In person, you know? And I’ve got some updates.” Luke had thought of that excuse on the way over. The truth was, he hadn’t seen Tessa since Friday and had found himself wondering how she was doing.
“Do you want something to drink while we go over this?” Tessa asked as she made her way to the kitchen.
“I’d love a beer if you have one.”
Tessa grabbed two pale ales from a local microbrewery out of the refrigerator. She popped the lids off both and handed one frosty bottle to Luke.
“Where’s Roscoe?” Luke made himself comfortable in the corner of the couch, toeing off his shoes and putting his feet on the coffee table. He stuffed a throw cushion behind his head and took a slug of beer.
“Speaking of making yourself at home?” Tessa muttered to herself. “If I know that dog, right now he’s sleeping on Lana’s ten-thousand-dollar damask chaise. I wasn’t sure how often I’d be at home during the next weeks, so their housekeeper is watching the place and keeping an eye on Prince Roscoe while everyone else is in the Antarctic.”
Luke cracked an eye open to look at her. “Why didn’t you go with them? Paul said you were invited.”
“Yes, but did he also tell you I’d be more inclined to sign up for a root canal without anesthesia than to get on a small boat with him and my stepmonster?” Tessa was proud of the even tone—hardly any bitterness came through in her voice.
Luke snickered. “He did mention there was some, ah, tension between you guys. But family dysfunction aside, I know you wouldn’t have left Kelly behind. Even though it might have been safer, given the threat you received.”
Tessa just nodded and drank her beer.
“Have you heard anything from our mystery caller since that night?” Luke asked.
“No, I would have told you. I tried to check the records with CalCell—that’s my cell phone company. They said it was impossible to trace the origin if the caller ID was blocked. I just wrote the threat off to talk and shelved the call.”
“But we know it probably wasn’t just talk, since someone later broke into your office. And since Kelly eventually disappeared, probably under duress,” Luke pointed out.
“Yes. But with Kelly gone they now have what they want, so I’m fairly certain no one will waste any time coming after me.”
“Not true. They wanted you to drop the case. Instead, you’re in deeper than ever, which could get more dangerous.”
“Maybe,” she shrugged.
“If you want, you could come stay at my place until this is all over.”
“What?” She tilted her beer bottle abruptly, then wiped foam from the corner of her mouth.
“It was just a suggestion, Swiss. I can also put a man on your place to keep an eye on things.”
“I’d rather dedicate that person to keeping an eye on Kelly, if you don’t mind,” Tessa said. She couldn’t figure out where he was going with this conversation. And the visit.
Was he actually worried about her?
“I’ve got my best people on it. MacBeth has been able to get some very good intelligence in the last few days.”
“Like what?” Tessa asked. Then the phone rang, and she quickly checked the caller ID window. “Hold that thought, this is an investigator from the US Attorney’s office returning my urgent call—from three days ago. I told him to get in touch with me, night or day.”
“Put him on speaker,” Luke said, handing her the receiver on the office-style conference phone.
“Hi, Bill. Is it all right if I put you on speaker?” Tessa asked. “I have one of the investigators from our team here.”
“Sure,” Bill Rammel replied. “But I don’t have much to give you.”
“Whatever you have will be helpful.” Tessa picked up her leather notebook and prepared to record the conversation there. “Fire away.”
Rammel cleared his throat. “I’m not assigned to the team anymore, but there’s a high-level, confidential investigation revolving around Club Red.”
“What is the US Attorney looking at?” Tessa asked.
“It’s not just us. There’s a multidepartment task force headed by the FBI and involving a few other organizations. We’re providing help with warrants and subpoenas, and will take the lead in prosecuting the federal charges when the time comes.”
Tessa frowned. “Is LAPD part of the team?”
“I don’t know exactly who’s involved, but I got the impression the investigation is still at a high level. And there was talk about LAPD Vice being a target of the investigation—there may be a dirty cop or two keeping an eye on things at HQ for the suspects, so the FBI is playing it safe and keeping things quiet.”
Luke winced. “It wouldn’t be the first time a criminal organization had an informant inside the police force. The Feds would have to approach Internal Affairs and give them the heads-up, but the investigation would still be kept confidential from the rest of the department.”
Rammel continued. “Once the FBI gets to the point where the rubber meets the road, officers and personnel from cooperating agencies will be assigned, and the investigation will really take off. Right now, things are still at a conceptual level. And team leads have already been changed twice, so I imagine the ultimate makeup of the group is still in flux.”
“Why hasn’t the D.A.’s office been notified?” Luke asked.
“Are you sure Ramirez hasn’t been briefed?” Rammel countered. “The investigation is over a year old. When she came into office about six months ago, this case should have been transitioned to her.”
Luke looked at Tessa. “Wouldn’t Carmen have told you if she’d known there was an ongoing investigation that could impact Kelly’s case?”
“Of course. But my previous caseload involved petty crimes—nothing at the level of this current case. So I wouldn’t have been in the loop on a high-level confidential investigation. And Carmen has been in Washington, D.C., at a conference for the last few days. She may not have had a chance to respond to or even read my e-mail updates yet. Maybe she doesn’t know about the new lead we are pursuing, or the connection to Club Red. I’ll ask her tomorrow.”
Luke watched with amusement as Tessa made a note in her leather book to talk to her boss. Bless her anal-retentive little soul, he thought affectionately. Smiling at her still-bent head, he spoke to Rammel. “What are the activities being investigated by the task force?”
“It was initially focused on financial crimes,” the other man replied.
“Like credit card fraud?” Tessa’s gaze shot up from her notebook to meet Luke’s.
“No, just irregularities. Some banks reported that Club Red was paying a lot of high dollar credits into the Visa and MasterCard accounts of certain patrons, and they were curious about that. That’s how the club’s name initially got in the system. Then when someone started digging deeper into Club Red’s operation, it looked like the owners might also be looking at a lot of federal charges, including interstate prostitution, drug charges, extortion, even liquor and cigarette tax violations. That’s when the task force was formed.”
“What is the mandate of the task force?” Tessa asked.
“It’s now empowered to look into all aspects of the Club Red, Inc. business for potential federal crimes, including tax fraud, money laundering, racketeering, and other RICO violations.”
“What progress was made on the financial aspects of the investigation?” Luke asked.
“Not much by the time I left,” Bill admitted. “The task force members were all involved in other cases. Hell, every agency is ove
rextended. At the last meeting several months ago, there was talk about getting funding for a forensic accountant to go over the books to see what else they could throw at Ricky Hedges. I recommended Chantal Francoeur, based on her reputation.”
“They must have something if they were able to subpoena records and such. Do you know if the task force has enough information to convene a federal grand jury?” Tessa asked.
“I have no idea. This is all I could find on the topic, so you’ll need to speak to the people in charge of the case. I wish I could help you more. One person you might want to talk to is this forensic accountant, who I believe worked briefly with the team. I heard she clashed with the new lead and left to pursue other contracts. So she might be willing to fill in the gaps for you, within the bounds of the law, of course.”
“I’ll take her contact info, thanks. And don’t worry, Bill, you’ve helped more than you know. Thank you for the information.” Tessa hung up and leaned back on the couch. “I can’t wait to find out from Carmen what she knows about the task force. I wish I’d known about this whole investigation sooner.”
Luke finished his beer and set the empty bottle down hard on the table. “Me, too. MacBeth and I have probably been stepping all over their case by looking into Ricky Hedges and friends. Damn it, I hate duplication of effort. Someone out there could have saved us days of work.”
“Maybe your time wasn’t lost—you’re probably looking at things from a different angle. What were you able to find?” Tessa asked.
“Oh, lots of good intelligence on Ricky. He might have polished his image here in LA so he’s the next best thing to Hugh Heffner or Larry Flynt, but he didn’t start out that way. Ricky grew up in a working-class family in Jersey, though he never talks about it to anyone. Lex didn’t even know, and that man is connected.”
“So Ricky wanted to leave behind his blue-collar up-bringing?”
“Fat chance. He started out a punk, and I doubt he’s gotten any classier since then. This is a kid who extorted lunch money in primary school, then sold cigarettes and pot in the seventh grade. Childhood friends say he started his first protection racket with the playground bully when he was fourteen.”
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