by Elise Noble
“Blackwood, you say?”
“Yes. You really should consider securing your fire exit.”
“You’d better not be here to spy on the competition.”
I almost snorted; Black’s had Liquid beaten hands down. But I managed to refrain.
“Not at all. I’m only here because of the murder, and nobody wants to see Ethan White get the death penalty.”
“I spoke to him a few times when he played here. The Ghost. Always seemed like a straight-up sort of guy. Packed the place out too.”
“He played good music.”
“More than that. He could read the crowd. They’d respond to each other, and the atmosphere he’d create was electric. None of my other acts manages to do that. Shame he’s not around anymore.”
I didn’t want to get stuck discussing the past. I was more worried about the future. “Actually, I’m looking for information on the last night he was in here, the night he met the victim. Did you talk to him?”
“Sorry. My kid was sick, so I had to leave early.”
“I’ve seen a tape of White by the bar, but I was hoping you might have something more.”
“Yeah, I was surprised the cops didn’t ask for those. Although I watched them myself after the story broke and there’s nothing earth-shattering. He’s minding his own business, the girl comes up and talks to him, and she persuades him to go with her. She was real pretty. I mean, what man would have said no?”
“Hang on, she approached him?”
“Yeah. He was sitting at a table, nursing a beer, and she went over to him.”
“Like she knew him?”
“No, not like that. I’d say they’d never met before. He didn’t want to get up at first, but as I said, she was pretty.”
“Can I take a look?”
“Sure.”
Son of a bitch, he was right. Unless they were acting out some weird stranger fantasy, they’d never met. When Christina first went up to Ethan, he shook his head and turned away. Only when she persisted did he start to talk. It was her who’d instigated their meeting, not him.
But why? Could it be because she simply liked Ethan, or did someone put her up to it? What the hell did it all mean?
CHAPTER 23
AS SOON AS I left Liquid, I drove straight to the address Mack had given me for Stefanie’s apartment. The building was well kept but not ostentatious, the kind of place young professionals on a reasonable salary tended to gravitate towards.
There was no doorman, just a panel full of buzzers, and I pressed one after another until somebody let me in. I didn’t want to announce myself to Stefanie just yet. It was a lot easier to get someone to talk to you if you had your foot blocking their door, and I couldn’t do that from outside.
And it was a lot easier to get someone to talk to you if they were in. After I’d waited for twenty minutes, I came to the conclusion that Stefanie wasn’t.
She was probably out working. The bills weren’t going to pay themselves, and now she had nobody to help with the rent.
I felt like kicking the door, but it was a glossy white and a black mark left by my biker boot probably wouldn’t go down well. Instead, I walked back out to Emmy’s car, only to find a bird had shit on the windscreen. And when I say shit on, I mean covered. The perfect end to a perfect afternoon.
Following a trip to the car wash, I detoured past Ethan’s house out of curiosity on my way back home. Even now, several weeks after the murder, a patrol car was still parked outside. The officer at the wheel looked bored as hell, but I imagined he’d wake up fairly sharpish if I turned into the driveway.
Back at Riverley, I spent the evening catching up on my normal caseload, which I had to admit was suffering. Although I worked with a team, I was lead on several of the trickier investigations—two murders, a complicated web of fraud, and a spate of robberies, plus I had to oversee everyone else’s work. If something didn’t give soon on Ethan’s case, I’d have to consider seconding another manager over to the Richmond office to assist with everything I was neglecting. Emmy would be thrilled. I’m sure it wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she gave me the case but tough luck.
As I lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help thinking of Ethan. While I was on a memory foam mattress with thousand thread count sheets, he was on a steel slab with a thin blanket.
I needed to get him out of there.
The next day was a Saturday, and according to Stefanie’s schedule, she didn’t have any classes. She had no job either, apart from Rubies, at least not one she paid taxes on. I only hoped she’d gone home the previous night rather than staying out with a client.
I knocked lightly on her door just after eight and was rewarded by it cracking open. A face I recognised from Mack’s picture peered out at me over a security chain.
Although it was the same girl, she looked to have aged five years since the photo was taken. I didn’t know if that was because she’d been in the business a long time, or because the last few weeks had taken their toll.
“Can I help?” she asked.
She wouldn’t meet my eyes, and she kept her weight behind the door, ready to push it shut. Good thing I’d worn steel toecaps.
“I was hoping to have a chat about Christina.”
There it was. The door thunked against my foot, and shock registered on Stefanie’s face when she couldn’t close it.
“W-w-who are you? Are you a reporter?”
“I’ve been hired to investigate her death.”
“Why? We all know who did it.”
“There are a few loose ends, and the prosecution wants to get them tied up before the case starts. Nobody wants a killer to get off on a technicality.”
Her frown lines smoothed a little. “Oh, so you’re working with Mr. Skinner, then?”
“Jay and I go way back.”
“Hold on while I take the chain off.”
At some point, I was going to have to give this girl a lesson in safety. She didn’t even ask for ID.
The home Stefanie had once shared with Christina was far nicer than anything your average college student could hope for. Bright and modern, it still managed to have a homely twist. A red corner sofa covered in colourful cushions was the focal point of the lounge, and Stefanie motioned me over to sit on it.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“A coffee would be great. Black, no sugar.”
China clinked in the kitchen, and she came back with a couple of mugs and a package of cookies, which she placed on the coffee table in front of me. Polite but nervous.
“Sorry, I’ve only got butter cookies. Nothing with chocolate.”
“I love butter cookies.”
Stefanie picked up her own drink and cradled it in her hands as she took a seat facing me, legs tucked up underneath her.
“What can I do to help?”
“I’ve been doing some research, and something’s come to light about Christina’s, er, profession that might not be looked upon too favourably by a jury.”
Her colour paled a few shades, and she reached forwards to put her mug down. Even then, she still splashed coffee all over the table because her hands were shaking so much.
“I was hoping nobody knew,” she whispered.
I shrugged apologetically. “These things do tend to emerge once an investigation gets underway.”
“Oh, hell. Are her parents going to find out?”
“That’s quite likely. Once the questions start, witnesses are fair game.”
She closed her eyes for a second before focusing them on mine. “Do you know about me?”
I nodded.
“My family will never speak to me again if this gets back to them.”
“I’m not going to say anything, but I can’t guarantee they won’t find out through other channels.” I paused, pretending to think. “If you can point us in the direction of anyone else who might be able to help, maybe we could keep your name out of this.”
“You really th
ink so?”
“I’ll certainly do my best.”
She took several deep breaths to compose herself before speaking again. “Then what do you want to know?”
“I’m trying to work out how Christina and Mr. White met. Whether it was through her work or whether she just met him on a night out.”
“I’m sure it was work. I mean, Ethan White wasn’t her type. Besides, she said she was going to give someone a birthday surprise.”
A birthday surprise? I knew for a fact that Ethan’s birthday wasn’t for another five months.
“Did she say who?”
She shook her head. “No, but it had to be the Ghost, right? I mean, that was who she met.”
I decided to go along with it. “More than likely. Did she elaborate on what kind of surprise?”
“She said it was a massage, and maybe a bit more, for a guy who liked kink.”
“A massage?”
“You know, like the sensual kind. She almost forgot the massage oil and the gloves. She went out, then came back again five minutes later because she’d left them in her room.”
“Gloves?”
“Leather ones, long, right up to her elbows. Apparently, he had a fetish for them. The person who booked her put the gloves and the oil in a fancy silver gift box, but it wouldn’t fit in Chrissie’s purse, so she took them out.”
I’d read the crime report at least ten times by now, and nowhere in it did it mention a bottle of massage oil or a pair of gloves. Could they have been overlooked?
And was Ethan really into that sort of thing? It didn’t really jibe with his “pick a girl up in a club and take her home for the night” habit, but perhaps I was just projecting my own expectations onto him.
“Do you still have the box?”
She looked at her feet. “I threw it out.”
“Did it have a label on it?”
“No, just a bow on the front and tissue paper inside.”
“Do you have any idea how this surprise was arranged? Would it have been booked through the Rubies site?”
A tear leaked down Stefanie’s cheek. “I think so. Chrissie only worked through Octavia, no other places.”
“Octavia?”
“She runs Rubies. All the calls are fielded by them, and the guys don’t get the girls’ numbers. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“I think Chrissie may have booked some of her regulars directly. We’re not really supposed to do that, it’s in our terms and conditions, but Octavia takes twenty percent.”
“Christina wanted to cut down on the commission?”
“Maybe. I noticed a few months back she had a second phone, a cheap one. I don’t know why she’d have needed it unless it was for them to call her.”
“Do you have the number?”
Stefanie shook her head. “She never even told me about the phone, not officially. I just saw it in her purse.”
Two phones. Neither of those had been found in Ethan’s house, either. A brief footnote in the police report said Ethan was assumed to have disposed of Christina’s phone somewhere on his drive, and the search for it was ongoing.
And that second phone was the one I needed to find.
“So, her regulars, do you know who any of them were?”
“Not the specifics. One of them was a soccer player. She used to joke about him knowing what to do with his balls. And then there was the stockbroker who couldn’t get it up half the time. She said it was a good thing his wallet was bigger than his dick, or she’d have to start calling in sick.”
“Anyone else?”
“An older guy. Mr. Grand, she called him, like a play on Mr. Big from Sex and the City. He bought her gifts—perfume, flowers, that sort of thing. I think she secretly hoped it would lead to more.”
“Any idea of his real name?”
“Sorry. We never spoke much about the details of work—not the people—just stupid stories sometimes. For me, once I’d finished a job, I didn’t even want to think about what I’d just done, let alone discuss it over breakfast. Maybe one day I’ll see the funny side like Chrissie did, but not now.”
“So you don’t enjoy the work?”
“Look, I grew up in a small town in Georgia. My family didn’t understand why I wanted to leave, but if I’d stayed, they’d have smothered me. Then I had an accident and landed myself with big medical costs. Bills were mounting up everywhere—tuition, rent, my credit card—so I did it.” She looked beyond me, her eyes fixed on a pigeon preening on the window sill. “I did it, but that didn’t stop me from hating every single second. No matter how many showers I took, I still couldn’t get the feel of them off me.”
I saw the pain in her eyes as she spoke and heard the rawness in her voice. The Rubies website may have made her lifestyle look glamorous, but this was the reality.
“And Christina? How did she feel about it?”
“Chrissie was a business major, and that’s how she approached the job. Her goal was to have enough money in the bank to buy her own house free and clear once she graduated, as well as paying for all her tuition. She worked out how many clients she needed to see each month and made damn sure she achieved it. The last few weeks, she was working almost every night—she was getting close to her fifth ruby, and she was determined to get it by her twenty-second birthday.”
“No boyfriend then, I take it?”
Stefanie stared at me like I was crazy. “What kind of man would touch us? Girls like Chrissie and me? We’re tainted goods.”
“You mentioned earlier that Ethan wasn’t Christina’s type. What sort of man would she have gone for if she had the choice?”
“She liked sugar daddies. Mature men, powerful ones with money, the kind who gave her fancy gifts and paid her the big bucks.”
“You sound like very different people.”
“We were. That doesn’t mean she wasn’t my best friend. We could talk about anything apart from work, and she was just so damn cheerful all the time. Every day, it was like waking up to brilliant sunshine.”
Until the storm came over.
“Did she have any enemies?”
“Nobody that I knew of.” Another tear fell. “Everybody loved Chrissie.”
I spotted a box of tissues on the sideboard and got up to fetch it. Stefanie took a handful and wiped her eyes.
“Dammit, I’m such a mess.”
“It’s only to be expected. This can’t have been easy, and I appreciate you taking the time out to help.”
“It’s okay. I want justice as much as you do,” she said, making me feel like a complete shit for lying to her.
“Can I leave my number in case you think of anything else?”
“Sure.”
“And if I need to call, when’s the best time to get hold of you?”
“Evenings, I suppose. I have classes in the day, and I quit work.”
Which didn’t particularly surprise me. “It sounds like that was the decision you wanted to make.”
“It was. I only wish I’d done it sooner.”
I smiled and squeezed her hand. “Even if you just want someone to talk to, call me. I’ll always listen.”
She gave a little sniffle and suddenly pulled me into a hug. “Thank you. You’re really sweet.”
Sweet? No. I was just hungry for justice.
CHAPTER 24
WHEN I GOT out of Stefanie’s apartment, I called Mack again. I was going to owe her a lot of favours when this was over.
“Mack, Christina had two phones, and they’re both missing. Can you find out the call histories for either one?”
“Luke’s better at the phone stuff than I am. I’ll get him to take a look.”
“And it looks like Christina met Ethan for work rather than pleasure. Stefanie says she only took clients through that one website, and I need to find out who booked her.”
“I’ll do that one myself.”
I pictured Mack’s lips pressing together in a thin line. Nope, she wouldn
’t want Luke browsing a website that was only a few scraps of lace and satin away from being porn.
“Thanks, sweetie.”
As I climbed back into my car, I thought through the next steps. I had a nasty feeling the hard work was just beginning. Not only that, we now effectively had two cases: firstly, prove Ethan was set up, and secondly, find out who did it. And how.
The how part bothered me. Creating that scene hadn’t been an easy job, especially with two victims adding an edge of unpredictability. Time to call in the experts.
“Emmy, can you do me a favour?”
“I might consider it if you bring my car back intact.”
Hmm. She sounded kind of grumpy.
“I haven’t even scratched it yet. Anyhow, I need to know the best way of staging the murder at Ethan’s.”
“You’ve decided that’s the right path?”
I gave her a quick recap. “There are too many gaps in the evidence. The police dropped the ball in a lot of areas. But for me, the biggest issue is the lack of motive. Nobody, Ethan included, can work out why he’d want to kill Christina, but if someone wanted to frame him and she was just collateral damage, that makes more sense.”
“If somebody wanted him out of the picture, why do it this way? Why not simply shoot him? This wasn’t just assassination; it was character assassination.”
That thought had crossed my mind as well. “Someone had a problem with him personally. They wanted him to suffer.”
“Sex, money, revenge. It’s always one of those.”
And so far, all the evidence pointed to the first of those motives. Which made me focus on the other two.
“Apart from Ty, Ethan doesn’t seem to have any enemies.”
“Money, then. He’s got plenty of that.”
“And right now, he can’t spend any of it.” But somebody else could.
“Dan, whoever did this was angry as fuck as well as unstable. Whether he had a grudge against Ethan, Christina, or life in general, I don’t know, but tread carefully.”
“I’m on tiptoes.”
“Good.”
With Emmy working on the logistics side of the murder, all I had to do was not crash her car. Oh, yeah, and make a list of suspects.
Number one had to be Harold, partly because he was an asshole and partly because he’d gained from Ethan’s incarceration in some ways, namely his self-imposed pay raise and the publicity for his other clients. But he’d also lost his headline act. Would he have risked everything on an uncertain outcome? Elastic Trickery’s success was by no means guaranteed. And ol’ Harry had said himself he’d been worried before the extra bookings started to roll in.
