Yearling Investigation Archives (Book 1): Sanguine

by Brittany Swigert

  “Hm?” Lofgren responded.

  “You keep humming, what song is it?” Kasparov asked again.

  “I hadn’t noticed I was doing it. It’s become second nature. The song is a Norwegian folksong called Kråka Sat På Garitind.” Lofgren answered. The foreign words fell from the man’s mouth like water from a pitcher. It was effortless and orderly.

  “Oh.” Kasparov responded regretting his question. The way Lofgren had maneuvered between the two languages made him feel stupid and he wished he hadn’t asked. The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

  A glowing purple sign lit up the foggy atmosphere. It was as if nothing else existed in the mist other than this den of provocative indulgences. Kasparov took it in. He always loved the way the club looked from the outside. It reminded him of something in a mob movie and he couldn’t help but love it. For years he had visited the women and felt their skin against his. He watched women come and go and didn’t get too attached. The girls Marian and his sister hired never seemed to stick around long, but the ones that did had become the closest thing to family he cared about.

  Once inside he took a look around. Marian’s was not a large club but it had personality. He noticed Missy was at the bar mixing drinks and made a plan to go over and try to get her to tell him about Jared. The mirrored wall behind the bar gave him a good view of the place. The walls were painted in a light purple that seemed to glow in the light. There was a stage toward the back where the ladies would do their routines.

  Ginger was entertaining a large group of unruly older men. Kasparov watched as one of them grabbed at her. She was a pro and knew better than to take any advance she didn’t appreciate. He looked on as she lured him on stage and put him in a sleeper hold. Once he was passed out she threw him off the stage and gave a playful laugh to the other men. She hadn’t really been sexy for some time, but the older guys who came to watch her didn’t notice. They spent their pensions and retirement checks on tips, dances, and a lot of liquor.

  Kasparov took a seat at his usual table and motioned one of the topless waitresses to himself. She was tall without her stilettos and towered against the some of the other girls. Long black hair curled down to her lower back and shocks of purple, green and blue highlighted it. Her dark skin flowed flawlessly across her incredible figure. Kasparov noticed Lofgren idly appreciating her. “Diamond, this is my friend Lofgren. Treat him right tonight and it will be worth your while.” Kasparov knew what to say to start the night off right.

  “You got it, Scott.” Diamond smiled at Lofgren. “What can I get you boys tonight?”

  “I’ll have my usual. Thanks Doll.” Kasparov replied.

  “I’ll have a gin and tonic, thank you.” Lofgren added.

  “Coming right up.” Diamond replied as she turned to make her way to the bar.

  Kasparov looked around and drank in the sights and sounds. The music in the club was almost too loud and the women too beautiful. The lights were lower and colored bulbs had replaced many of the white ones adding something to the ambiance. Topless waitresses walked through the bar assisting clients with drink orders and dances. Every so often someone would pay for a private dance and they would go to the back for some discreet fun. Kasparov had never asked if they were being paid for sex at the club. He knew there were somethings a cop wasn’t supposed to ask. Not even him.

  Diamond came back with their drinks and set them down before placing herself on Lofgren’s lap. She was always affectionate when money was involved and she had to know if he would be worth her time. “Have you heard from Bambi, Scott? I heard she was in some trouble or something. Did she get caught hooking again?” Diamond asked.

  “Nothing like that.” Kasparov replied. “She is just being held for questioning. It should all be resolved soon. I hated to bring her in but I have to do my job, you understand right?”

  “Absolutely, Babe. We all gotta eat, right?” Diamond agreed before looking over her shoulder at Lofgren. “Want a dance gorgeous?”

  “Perhaps later. You are quite lovely, but we have only just arrived. I would like to relax a bit first. Come back in a bit. I’m sure my answer will have changed.” Lofgren answered. He wasn’t nearly as nervous as Kasparov thought he would be. He expected the man to be overwhelmed. He almost seemed to be relaxed. Perhaps there was more to this stoic man than Kasparov had previously thought.

  The men sat silently and watched the end of Ginger’s performance and drank what they had ordered. After she left the stage Kasparov began to dig around in his pockets. He found his cigarettes and pulled one from the pack.

  “May I” asked Lofgren.

  “Look we are in a club. I’m drinking. Plenty of other people are smoking too so don’t give me your shit about it.” Kasparov responded without listening.

  Lofgren reached over and grabbed the pack from the table and took a cigarette out. Kasparov was shocked but handed him a lighter. He figured asking Lofgren why he was smoking was pointless and may include a lecture on his own habits. He wasn’t sure he wanted that.

  “I’m going to go talk to Missy at the bar to see what she knows about the guy we are looking for. Maybe it will help us track him down.” Kasparov stood up and made his way to the bar leaving Lofgren to his cigarette.

  Kasparov made his way to the bar and tried to spot anything unusual. There were a few men that he didn’t recognize but that was not uncommon. He would be sure to mention them to Lofgren in case they were needed later. Behind the bar a tan woman with short black hair served drinks. Her arms were covered in tattoos and through her low cut top it was apparent that her chest was as well. Missy wasn’t a dancer and only a privileged few people had ever seen her nude. It made Kasparov weak to think of her coming home with him. He had always liked her but she was out of his league and they both knew it. To make it worse she was the sister of a good friend, and therefore, off limits.

  “Have you seen Randall? I’m supposed to be meeting him.” Kasparov asked.

  “No. I haven’t seen him but I did hear you arrested Bambi today. I’m surprised you showed up here. Not only that but you’ve brought a suit with you. What’s gotten in to you? Are you really just here to grab a drink with Randall, or is there something bigger going on that you aren’t telling me about? I know when you’re lying to me, Scott.” Missy knew him better than to worry about when someone was going to show up. Kasparov took to solitude more than anything.

  “Bambi was arrested, but it was only because she had to be brought in for questioning and she’s being held until we can verify her information. I’m trying to do this quietly, ya know.” He replied. “I’d really appreciate your help on this; as a friend.”

  “Is this about the security footage the feds asked me to send over? Is she selling drugs from my club?” Missy was protective of her girls but that protection stopped when their behavior threatened the club. She ran the place for her brother, Marian who had left the city a couple years ago in search of a quiet early retirement with his life-partner, Ferdinand. Kasparov wondered how far she would go to protect her brother’s interests, or her own.

  “No. She isn’t selling drugs. At least not that I know of. Missy, people are going missing after hanging out in here. Agent Lofgren says they are likely dead. Bambi was arrested because she was seen leaving with the most recent victim.” Kasparov admitted to Missy. It wasn’t easy to tell her that something was jeopardizing her business. She had a quality about her that terrified him.

  “That has to be coincidence. Bambi wouldn’t have the smarts to do something like that. And is this place the only connector? Do you think it’s one of the girls?” She questioned.

  “I don’t know who it is, but we have a lead on a possible suspect. According to Bambi she took the girl home and the information adds up to what we have about the victim. We don’t really think she is involved. But she mentioned a guy that has been hanging around a lot lately. She says he is nice to the girls and gets on with everyone. He was talking to the latest victim most of the
night before she disappeared. I didn’t recognize the name and it didn’t turn up in any of the databases. I was hoping to catch him here tonight and try to find out what he knows or at least feel him out.” Kasparov explained.

  “It sounds like you’re talking about Jared. He just moved in to town and has been coming in almost every day for the last two weeks. He always gets the same thing, a vodka martini with two olives. He tips well and the ladies seem to be quite taken with him.” She explained. “What makes you think he has something to do with the disappearances? Was he on the other tapes?”

  “I’m not sure. We are intending to look in to that as soon as we know who we are looking for. Until then we can only guess.” He replied as he lit a cigarette and held up an empty glass. “Can I get another one?”

  “Sure thing.” Missy turned to pour him another whiskey. “If I see him I’ll point you in the right direction. He usually comes in around the time Claudia gets on stage. I think he is quite taken with her. They are always talking and he tips her more than any of the other girls. You may want to talk to her.”

  “Who is Claudia?” He asked.

  “Oh, I forgot you haven’t been here in a few weeks. I hired her about three weeks ago. I think it was the last day you were in here as a matter of fact. She is on in a few minutes. I am pretty sure you are going to like her. Oh! Look there’s Randall.” She gestured to the door where a short man was entering the club. He was a thin and frequently had to deal with comments about his small stature. Randall worked as a DJ at a dance club across town to build money to open his own recording studio. Kasparov liked that his friend was a musician because it always seemed to attract women to them. They came to see Randall, but every so often he managed to get one to come home with him instead.

  Randall spotted Kasparov and headed toward him stopping to say hello to a few of the other regulars the pair had come to know. He was a social man and had always managed to make friends where ever they went despite Kasparov’s bitter attitude. Eventually he made it to the bar and greeted Missy.

  “Evening beautiful. You are looking especially awesome today. Can I get my usual?” Randall then turned toward Kasparov. “So I talked to some weird dude on your phone today. What’s that all about?”

  “That would be Lofgren.” Kasparov replied pointing across the bar to the agent. He was getting that lap dance he promised Diamond he would accept. It looked like he was enjoying himself but there was something disconnected in his expression. Kasparov realized he was using the dance as a cover to steal glances around the club, looking for Jared. It amazed Kasparov how keen Lofgren was, especially considering the ample distractions in this place.

  “So what is he doing here? He looks federal.” Randall asked.

  “He is investigating disappearances all over the country. It seems that it is happening here now and he thinks this club could hold the key to finding the guy doing the kidnapping. Do you know who Jared is?” Kasparov wanted to get this over with. As much as he enjoyed the club and seeing his friends, Bambi was still in a cell and getting angrier by the minute. The sooner they found this guy and confirmed his presence the sooner they could let her go home.

  “Can’t say I do. Have you seen Claudia yet? She is something beyond crazy.” He replied

  “I haven’t yet, but I have heard of her from Missy. I think she comes on soon. Let’s head over to the table.” Kasparov snuffed out the end of his cigarette and made his way back to the table to introduce his friend.

  “Agent Lofgren, This is my friend Randall Livingston. He’s a musician. Randall, this is Agent Lofgren. He is working with me on this investigation.” Kasparov introduced them and took his seat facing the stage. He was excited to see the girl that would be coming out to dance. Everyone seemed to like her so she must be something special.

  “Is that a tattoo of Mortal Monster Collective?” Lofgren asked Randall who was enjoying his regular Crown and Coke.

  “Oh shit. You watch that show?” Randall was always excited to find out someone liked the same things he did. He enjoyed connecting over common ground and it always amused Kasparov to see his friend get worked up over what he had considered to be nonsense. It was a Japanese show that Randall had watched growing up and still kept up with every episode today. It was surprising that Lofgren had recognized the tattoo.

  “I love that show. I grew up watching it. It’s been a very long time, but it was good.” Lofgren responded. “I tend to stick to reading rather than television these days though.”

  The men all sat quietly each with their independent thoughts waiting for the next girl to come on stage. A few moments later the music changed and a woman came out on to a dark stage. A green spot light followed her as she danced up to the pole. She was a thing of legend. This woman had olive skin and long strait black hair that had been lightly curled and tousled. Her skin shone with sweat and it glistened in the lights of the stage. Stark green eyes pierced the audiences gaze. Everything about her reminded Kasparov of carnal indulgences.

  She danced and wrapped herself around the pole. She climbed it, stroked it, and slipped slowly, agonizingly down it. She crawled and rolled and teased. This woman was not just another stripper. She was truly erotic. Lofgren looked away from the woman for a moment but Kasparov didn’t notice. He was entranced by the creature that appeared before him on the stage, slowly undressing herself for his enjoyment.

  After a few minutes the dance was over and she returned backstage to get ready to work the room by serving drinks and dances. He needed to talk to her about Jared and he decided a dance was a great way to get her to talk to him, but he wasn’t sure he could handle it. After all, it had been a long time since he had been with a woman and she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

  “Did you see the fella that just came in?” Lofgren asked. “He looks like one of the men I saw in the videos.”

  “I didn’t notice. I guess I was distracted” Kasparov replied. To his side he heard Randall start to laugh at him. “What?”

  “Distracted is an understatement. She’s been off the stage for nearly ten minutes and you’re still staring at it with your jaw open.” Randall knocked back his drink and lit a cigarette. Kasparov shook his head and did the same. He needed to center himself if he was going to be of any use.

  “Where is this guy you saw?” Kasparov asked.

  “Over there.” Lofgren answered and nodded toward a tall man with a buzzed head. He was drinking a Martini with two olives, just like Missy said he would.

  “I recognize him. He was here last time I was. It was the first time I had seen him but he seems nice enough. I didn’t ask his name. I did see him talking to Claudia after her dance though. I had intended to wait for her but I ended up leaving before I could ask for her number.” Randall always got the girls numbers. Kasparov wasn’t sure how he did it. The man was unusual, short, and commonly mistaken for being a homosexual. He wondered if that was just what the women wanted. Maybe they thought he was sensitive.

  “Thanks Randall. I think we have what we wanted. I’m gonna head up to the precinct and run through those tapes. I don’t know if talking to Claudia is a good idea right now.” Kasparov wanted to leave. Claudia made him uneasy in the way beautiful women commonly did. He didn’t want Lofgren to see this side of him. He felt that it would cause his partner to have less respect for him and make working together much harder. Kasparov was surprised Lofgren wasn’t more caught up in the place. He seemed calm and almost disinterested.

  Kasparov said goodbye to Randall, paid Missy and stepped outside. He leaned against his car and lit a cigarette while he waited for Lofgren to settle his tab. The air was much colder now than when he had arrived and it had started to rain lightly. The light from the sign was less enrapturing than it had been in the fog. It reflected in puddles on the ground but it no longer hung in the air. Some of the magic was gone and Kasparov felt drained. He still hadn’t slept and needed to, but before he could do that he needed to review the tapes. It
was going to be another long night.

  Lofgren came out of the club stowing his wallet and got in the car without a word. They didn’t speak all the way back to the precinct. Both men were clearly exhausted. To stay alert Kasparov loaded a cassette tape in to the tape desk of and cranked the volume up. He didn’t care what Lofgren was thinking about it, he barely cared what he, himself, thought as they drove in to the night.

  IV.

  Lofgren stepped out of the car as Kasparov lit up a cigarette. He hadn’t intended to smoke at the club, but the atmosphere had caught up to him along with Kasparov’s constant chain smoking. Lofgren would have to make it up to himself. Perhaps some exercise would help him with the cravings. He hated feeling out of control, especially of himself.

  The rain had gotten heavier on the trip back to the precinct and the parking lot was now covered in a shallow layer of water. It clung to the bottom of Lofgren’s pants as he trudged through it up to the building. Lofgren waited under the awning for a few moments and watched Kasparov through the grimy car windows. He still couldn’t figure out how he felt about the man. On the one hand, he had connections in this town and that could be helpful, on the other hand, his connections could lead to trouble. Whatever it would mean, Lofgren was sure that his new colleague was the best fit.

  Of all the people Lofgren had met while working on the case over the last several months, Kasparov had been the only one who had a personal interest in the investigation. It would be easy to get the man to do everything in his power to put this thing to bed so his friend’s name could be clear. After all it was easy to see that Ms. Hodge was more to the detective than just another stripper and Lofgren planned to use that to his advantage.

  He pulled on the door to the police station and made his way inside. After stopping off at the bathroom, Lofgren took a seat in front of Kasparov’s computer. He pulled out the top drawer to see what was in the desk. He had been curious but now that he saw the contents he realized it was silly to wonder what a man like him would keep in a drawer. It was filled with cigarette packs, some empty, a few lighters, an ash tray, a flask of Jack Daniels, and a few adult magazines. Kasparov was a bit of a cretin perhaps, but Lofgren could find nothing nefarious.