by Gina LaManna
Lucky shrugged. “He doesn’t come in with anyone, but he knows plenty of people here. Like you said, everyone knows Joe.”
“Any friends of his stick out in your memory?”
“Nope.”
“Of course not. When’d he leave this morning?”
“He stayed till about three or four. I don’t know exactly because I got busy. I gotta keep the creeps away from the girls, make sure people pay, all that garbage. People are so untrustworthy.”
“No kidding,” I said, staring at him until he got the picture. “Did he mention where he was going?”
“I mean, he didn’t broadcast it. Well, I suppose he did a little bit.”
“How so?”
“He’s got this one girl he really likes. Her name’s Angel.” Lucky gestured toward his back. “She’s got these cute wings tattooed on her back.”
“Seems like a fitting name.”
“Yeah, I never thought of that before, but I suppose you’re right,” he said. “Anyway, they spend a lot of time together. When Joe walks in, all the regulars sorta back away from Angel.”
“Is Angel here?”
“No, she got off around three, too.”
“I’m guessing that’s not a coincidence that that’s also the time Ricci left,” I said. “Did they leave together?”
Lucky stared dumbly at us. He clearly knew the answer and didn’t want to say it.
“How about this,” I said, rephrasing. “Has he ever left with Angel before?”
“I’d venture it’s a good guess to say that yes, he has,” Lucky said. “I don’t know for certain, though. It’s not my business what the girls get up to when they’re off the clock.”
“There aren’t any rules to prevent them from fraternizing with paying clients?”
Lucky’s lips remained zipped.
“Do you have an address for Angel?” I asked. “You must because Ladies of Luxury has squeaky clean books. Isn’t that right?”
Lucky glared at me, knowing he was trapped. If he said no, I’d dig into his books and find the address anyway... and probably a whole lot more.
“She lives in an apartment downtown.” Lucky handed over a sheet of paper after thumbing through a pile for a few minutes. “Don’t tell her you got this information from me.”
“My lips are sealed,” I said, studying the address. “That’s a pretty nice place.”
“Some of the gals make a good living here,” Lucky said proudly. “We help a lot of women get through nursing school or whatever. We had a lawyer apply just last year.”
“Impressive.”
“Hey, I know sarcasm when I hear it. I’m helping you, aren’t I? Speaking of, can we wrap this up? I’ve gotta get back out on the floor.”
“We might be back to chat some more,” I said. “Give us a call if Joe shows his face around here.”
“Right. I do something like that and business goes down the tube.”
“You already have a snitch,” I said. “So, if we hear that Ricci’s been here and you didn’t call it, a lot more than a few paying customers are going to be scared away from this place.”
Lucky didn’t bother to walk us out. The bouncer grunted as we passed him. On second thought, I turned back.
“Did you see this man leave with one of the girls?” I asked, gesturing to Jones to pull out the photo of Ricci. “It’d have been around three or four in the morning.”
“I didn’t see nothin’,” he said, not bothering to look at the photo. “Nobody did.”
“Great. Helpful,” I said. “Have a fantastic day.”
Jimmy walked me to my car.
“That’s the problem with mob hits,” I said. “Nobody sees anything.”
“Yeah, runs in the family.” Jimmy laughed at his own joke. When I didn’t smile, he stopped abruptly. “Why do I get the sense that you’re extra tense about this case?”
“I’ve never exactly been called laid back.”
“No, but something is different this time around. I can smell it.”
“Let’s go,” I said. “It’s time to find Angel. We’ve gotta get to her.”
“You don’t think Ricci will still be there?” Jimmy glanced at his watch. “It’s mid-afternoon. Kinda late for their night to still be kicking.”
“I don’t pretend to know what happens after a night at the strip club.”
“Fair point. I’ll meet you there?” Jimmy suggested. “That way, you can head to Russo’s straight from Angel’s on the off chance we get lucky.”
“I appreciate your optimism.”
“You know, sarcasm doesn’t look good on you, Kate,” he said. “Maybe you should sign up for some pole dancing classes. Loosen you up.”
“I’m plenty loose.” I did a shoulder shake. “Look at how loose I am.”
Jimmy snorted. “Right. Let’s get over to Angel’s before I start getting annoyed at you keeping secrets from me.”
I climbed in my car and slammed the door behind me. I couldn’t retort to Jimmy on that one because he was right. I did have a secret, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it was about to be blown wide open.
Chapter 7
Jimmy and I both found parking spots at meters. We met at the front door of the metallic and black high-rise—a newer build in Minneapolis and even nicer than I’d expected. Her monthly rent had to be double the mortgage payments on my house. Jimmy obviously agreed with my assessment, giving a low whistle as we made our way inside.
“I know,” I said, studying a dial-in system that was more complex than my computer. “I’m wondering how she affords this place, too.”
“I wasn’t wondering that.” Jimmy raised his eyebrows. “I know how she affords it.”
“Then what’s with the whistle?”
He nodded toward a plaque on the right-hand side of the keypad. It was a large, platinum thing with a small dainty inscription.
Property of Gem Industries.
I scowled. “What about it?”
“You always seem to find your way back to Gem.” Jimmy didn’t flinch under my glare. “Hey, you asked me! I’m just saying. Y’all are like Romeo and Juliet but less romantic.”
“There’s nothing Romeo and Juliet about us.”
“Fatal attraction?”
“That’d be more accurate if there was any attraction between us.”
“Uh-huh.”
I busied myself dialing the lobby to let us in through the keypad. A beep and a clicking sound signaled the front desk had unlocked it. I made my way to the clerk who was waiting for us with a stern frown.
“May I help you?” he asked.
I flashed my badge. “We’ve got a few questions. Don’t bother calling up.”
“But ma’am—”
“It’s detective,” I said. “And this is a homicide investigation. We’ll only be a minute.”
“I can’t let you upstairs without a guide.”
“Then you can guide us.”
“I can’t leave my post.”
“Let me put it this way: None of your residents are in trouble. Not yet,” I said. “However, we think one of them might be with a dangerous and armed individual. It’s a matter of safety that we get upstairs to the apartment of...”
I hesitated. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to get Angel’s real name. Surely, she hadn’t registered using her pseudonym in a ritzy apartment complex.
“Hannah Trails,” Jimmy said. When I glanced at him, he winked, then pulled out a sheet of paper from his pocket. “While you and Lucky were chatting, I helped myself to a peek at Angel’s file.”
I nodded affectionately at my partner. The front desk clerk looked back and forth between us until he realized we were waiting for a response, and then he leapt to attention.
“Ms. Trails isn’t expecting visitors.”
“I know,” I said. “Hence the element of surprise. We think she might be in danger.”
“What sort of danger?”
I widened my eyes. “The kind w
here we think she might be in the company of an armed and dangerous man.”
“I’m sure your boss, Mr. Gem, wouldn’t like to hear about a suspect in a murder investigation hiding out in one of his properties,” Jimmy said. “He’d want you to help us. I guarantee it.”
“She’s on the seventh floor.” The clerk leaned forward, his teeth gritted. “I can’t tell you more than that. If she doesn’t answer, or isn’t home, I can’t do anything without a proper warrant.”
“Works for us. The seventh floor is...which way?”
We followed his pointed finger toward one of two elevator banks and pressed the button. We waited for the elevator to arrive, and when it did, we headed inside and pressed the number seven. It was a fast ride.
The elevator was so smooth and silent that it reminded me of the last time I’d been in Alastair Gem’s office building. It’d been Valentine’s Day, and in a very unromantic twist, the holiday party had ended in an arrest. That same night, Russo and I had shared our first kiss. Gem had made a startling almost-confession. I still wasn’t sure if he’d been talking about me or someone else, but my gut knew the answer.
Since then, I hadn’t had much in the way of contact with the billionaire. He’d called once after that night but hadn’t left a message. A week later, a gigantic arrangement of fresh fruit had arrived on my doorstep along with a handwritten card thanking me for my help on the case. He’d offered to buy me coffee or dinner as a sign of his appreciation for catching his stalker red-handed, but I hadn’t taken him up on the offer.
“Nice digs,” Jimmy said as we stepped off the elevator and made our way down the hallway to Hannah’s apartment. The furnishings were sparse but elegant. Sleek tables were pressed up against walls, accented by expertly arranged lilies in tall, slender vases. A large window at one end of the hallway flooded the space with light.
I raised a hand and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, I knocked again, and then twice more before turning to Jimmy.
“She’s either not home, or she’s not answering,” I said. “I don’t think we have enough for a warrant.”
“Maybe Angel’s in there with Ricci. If so, he could’ve taken one look out of the peephole and pegged us for cops. He could have her at gunpoint.”
“Maybe,” I hedged. “But we can’t break the door down. The front desk attendant isn’t letting us in anywhere. We’re stuck.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Jimmy’s eyes wandered toward the floor before eventually coming back to land on me. “I know one phone call you could make that might help us out.”
I shook my head, realizing what Jimmy was asking of me. “No. No way. I’m not calling Gem.”
“What if it could save a woman’s life?”
“We don’t even know she’s in there!”
“Ricci goes to a strip club and leaves with a girl. He’s been tied to not one, but potentially two murders—”
“Nothing is concrete.”
“Is anything ever concrete with the mob?” Jimmy asked. “I’m not saying we toss her place. But I’d feel a lot better knowing she’s not home than I would just crossing my fingers that she’s okay.”
Jimmy did have a point, but my hesitation to call Gem was also strong. I tried knocking one more time. It was a futile stalling tactic.
“I think we should give it some time,” I said, stepping back from the door. “If we go in there—”
I was interrupted by a crash from inside of the apartment, followed by the sound of glass breaking, and then complete and utter silence. I pressed an ear to the door and heard nothing.
“Angel?” I called. “Hannah, is that you in there? We’re here to help.”
“If she’s restrained, she can’t get to the door,” Jimmy said. “We’re not busting this thing down—it’s too thick. Call Gem, get him to give that front desk clerk a kick in the pants.”
I pulled out my phone, my hesitation washed away by the thought of an innocent woman in danger. It rang twice before he picked up.
“Detective,” Gem’s low voice said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of—”
“I need help,” I blurted urgently. “I’m in one of your apartment complexes downtown, and I suspect a woman might be in danger. Can you get the front desk clerk to let us in?”
“Which building?”
I rattled off the name and address, and Gem disconnected without a good-bye. It wasn’t two minutes later that the elevator dinged. The attendant exited, then strolled down the hallway looking more than a little sheepish as he pulled out a key and opened the door.
“This is just a safety check,” he warned. “Nothing more.”
I ignored the attendant’s dire tone and pushed past him into the apartment. Jimmy followed close behind me, and together we cleared the main room in seconds, then branched off and hollered out as we barreled room by room looking for signs of life.
“Jimmy,” I called finally, once I reached the master bedroom. “In here.”
Jimmy appeared at the door, huffing and out of breath from exertion. “What’d you find?”
“The source of the noise,” I said dryly, gesturing toward an orange tabby cat cowering in the corner. “Looks like he was a little overzealous making his leap from the window to the bed.”
A lamp had fallen to the floor next to a bedside table. The shade was squashed at odd angles and the bulb had shattered. The hardwood floors had provided a loud base for the crash, and the sleek room furnishings had intensified the sound.
“The rest of the house is clear,” Jimmy said. “She’s not home.”
“Hey—take a look at this.”
“We can’t stick around,” Jimmy said. “The front desk dude is breathing down our necks. I made him wait outside, but we don’t have long.”
“I don’t need long.”
I crossed the room and paused before a black metal safe on the ground. It was small and compact, tucked out of the way underneath a vanity. I wouldn’t have noticed it if the cat hadn’t darted across the floor and drawn my eye toward the shiny glint.
I frowned as I knelt before it, careful not to touch anything. The door to the safe had been left open.
“What is it?” Jimmy came and stood next to me, looking like the idea of kneeling on the floor was akin to getting a root canal. “It looks like a safe.”
“That’s exactly what it is.”
“Then why...” Jimmy scratched his head. “Why’s it open?”
“Someone might’ve used it late last night, not closed it.”
“I suppose if they weren’t expecting visitors in their apartment, it wouldn’t have been a huge deal.”
“No, except it does defeat the purpose of keeping things locked in a safe.”
“Point taken. Can you see what’s in there?”
I pulled out a small flashlight and shined it inside. “Bingo.”
“We don’t have a warrant,” Jimmy reminded me. “Whatever you see here...well, you didn’t see it.”
“Then I am definitely not seeing half a kilo—or thereabouts—of something that closely resembles cocaine.”
Jimmy let out another of his famous low whistles. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe our girl Angel has a side hustle that lets her afford this place.”
“Why in the world would she leave the door open knowing that much coke was inside?” I asked. “Did she take off in a hurry? Does Ricci have her?”
“Why would Ricci kidnap Angel?”
“I don’t know. Unless she knows something that she shouldn’t.”
“Maybe it’s more innocent than that,” Jimmy said. “The way I see it is... Angel works till three in the morning, comes home with her guy Ricci. They pop open the safe, dip into the fun stuff. The bed has obviously been used.”
I took a closer scan of the room. I’d taken it all in when I’d rushed through the doorway, but upon closer inspection, it did look like there’d been a private sort of party happening recently.
An empty champagne bottle sat opened in a sh
abby chic metal bucket. The ice had long since melted and left a ring of sweat along the outside. The cork lay forgotten on the floor near the doorway.
The bed itself was piled with neutral gray comforters and white sheets that’d been tossed into disarray. One pillow was at the foot of the bed, another on the floor. Two empty champagne flutes sat on the nightstand.
“I suppose,” I agreed. “They had a good time, drifted off to sleep. This morning they woke up and stumbled out for breakfast—or wherever they were going—and didn’t think twice about the safe. They might not have even remembered leaving it open if they were high.”
“I’ve forgotten about smaller things,” Jimmy said. “I don’t even need to be drinking. Yesterday, I put the Snickers ice cream in the refrigerator. Can you believe it? Had to drink the whole half-gallon so it didn’t go bad. Gets all weird when you refreeze it, otherwise.”
“That’s called being senile. And it’s also a lot of detail about your ice cream.”
Jimmy guffawed. “Yeah, well. I don’t think Ricci and Angel were exactly focused on safety last night. I’m sure they had other things on their minds.”
“The thing that has me is the amount. A half kilo is a lot to have hanging around at home. Seems sorta...”
“Stupid?” Jimmy supplied.
“That’s one way of saying it,” I said. “Unless maybe she’d just gotten ahold of it? Maybe it was Ricci who dropped it off. That could’ve been why the safe was open in the first place. Maybe they took a little sample, things got heated, and they forgot the rest of it.”
I straightened, surveyed the room.
“What if the hit at Bellini’s was about drugs?” I wondered aloud. “What if there was something in the refrigerator, and that’s why Peg Leg went in there in the first place?”
“Is Peg Leg involved in the drug industry?” Jimmy shrugged. “I don’t know much about him, but he didn’t seem all that smart. Who would have trusted him enough to hire him?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” I said. “He could’ve been a low-level runner or distributor. Taking on the risky jobs. But if he stiffed the wrong person...”
“Are you guys coming?” The front desk attendant called from the front door. “Hello, detectives? Do I need to call the police?”
