We both groaned.
I frowned. “How far do we let them go?”
“Far as you can.”
I shifted on my feet. “I’ve never had a massage, Captain. What do you mean hang our blouse up?”
“To get a massage you have to disrobe.”
“Take our clothes off?” I cocked my head. “Seriously? With cameras rolling?”
“It’s for a good cause.” He chuckled. “Only a couple of female officers will view the recordings. They will be discreet.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Plus, the good citizens of Midland will pay for the massages. Come on, ladies. I wouldn’t ask you to do this, but it has been an ongoing problem for a few months, and we have to catch them. The owners of Magic Hands Massage have appealed to us. They are trying to run a legitimate business. If nothing else you will get some great relaxation and work the kinks out.”
Shinto looked at me with a do-you-kill-him-or-should-I face.
“When do we start, sir?” I asked brightly.
“Soon as you leave my office, call and make an appointment. Here are the names of the two suspects in question. Shinto, you take the woman, and Kailey, the guy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m on it,” Shinto said.
“May take a few weeks to get them comfortable with you. Play it up. Be two bored wealthy oil wives. We’ve arranged for Jo James on Wadley to do your makeup, hair, the whole shebang. Chico’s will dress you, and Christiani Jewelers on Wall Street will supply your Rolexes and diamonds. Keep the clothes spotless and the jewelry safe. Return them the minute you leave Magic Hands, or it’s your ass.”
“Yes, sir.” We said in unison and left his office.
Shinto grumbled under her breath as she closed the door. “I’ve never had or ever wanted a big-ass diamond or a fuckin’ Rolex.”
“And I’ve never had someone put makeup on me,” I said.
***
We didn’t enter Magic Hands at the same time. I parked behind the business, picked my way around to the front trying to look comfortable in a white filmy blouse, tight blue silk skirt, and spike heels. I wore a diamond tennis bracelet with diamonds big enough to choke a duck. I twirled a six-carat diamond ring around with my thumb that matched dangling diamond earrings. I didn’t know how heavy a diamond-encrusted Rolex could be until I wrapped it around my left wrist. The .40 cal in my stylish little clutch felt somewhat reassuring. But I still would have preferred a police escort.
Shinto emerged from her car about the time I reached the front door. Holy crap. I took a step back and stared. Her four-inch heels pushed her well over six feet. Subtle makeup accented her cheekbones and dark skin tone, which in turn brought out her shocking light blue eyes. She shook out long black hair that cascaded down her back, I’d only ever seen it in a braid, and the effect stunned me. The hairdresser had given her bangs and pulled the rest off her face with a silver barrette that matched long, silver earrings. Shinto smoothed her short black sleeveless dress and her fingers sparkled with diamonds. Silver bracelets tinkled as she moved toward me. Christ. Her poor masseuse didn’t stand a chance.
I must have looked like a drowned, diamond-encrusted puppy in comparison. Great for the ego. I threw my shoulders back and teetered forward on stilettos my dresser insisted I could wear. Silly ass.
I told the woman at the desk I wanted a deep tissue massage, like I had a clue, filled out a lot of paperwork, and found my way into a dark waiting room with music piped in. Lots of bird chirps and rushing water, less music.
Shinto followed behind me and barely glanced my way as she imperiously scanned the room filled with men and women of various ages and dress. One empty chair remained.
A blond young man with a too-perfect tan came around the corner and called my name. I rose, and he checked my name off on his clipboard. He flashed an overly white smile and whispered for me to follow him. We entered a room with low lights and a bed with a padded horseshoe pillow strapped onto one end. A poster hung on one wall displaying human muscles with callouts arrayed down the side. Three walls were painted gray and one dark blue. The same music played in the background. A metal chair sat pushed up against the wall, and behind the chair were hooks. On the opposite wall behind my guy a small cabinet, sink, and a towel-warming oven completed the ten-by-ten room.
My masseuse pointed to the chair for me to take a seat, introduced himself as Liam, and asked me a lot of personal questions. He marked my answers down on his clipboard. When we finished, he asked me to undress and lie face down on the message table. He would return when I was ready. He left and I stripped. I positioned the camera and shot birds at the voyeurs back at the station. Then jumped onto the table, covered my tush with the sheet, and plopped my face into the hole in the horseshoe pad. I gripped the table tightly and stared at the herringbone pattern in the blue and gray carpet.
Liam returned and asked, “Is this your first massage?” He pulled the sheet down to the crack in my clenched buttock. It tickled and I squirmed.
“Yes.”
“Relax.”
Easy for you to say. I stiffened when he touched me, then slowly loosened up. I wasn’t prepared for it to feel so good. His hands, slick with some kind of oil, smelled vaguely of exotic spice and the seashore. He slid them over my shoulders and down my back and returned to my neck. He used his forearm and elbow to go deeper into my muscles. Ah, yes, there.
“Tell me if the pressure gets to be too much or if you would like it harder or softer.” His voice soothed as well as his hands.
“I will.” I squeezed my eyes shut tight. He picked up my arm, and I held it straight out.
He chuckled. “Relax. Please. Give your arm to me. I’ll pick it up and put it back. I promise I’ll be gentle.”
After a few minutes my mind drifted to another universe. My whole back got massaged, then my arm. He worked his way down both legs, rubbed both feet, then moved back up the other side. When he came to my ass he delicately massaged each cheek through the sheet. After a while he pulled the sheet off one side and stood with his head turned, to offer me a semblance of privacy, I guess. He asked me to turn over. I complied. The sheet moved with me quite discreetly, and I stuck my tongue out at the hidden camera when Liam turned around.
He removed the donut thingy, sat on a stool, and massaged my head and neck. Ruining my new hairdo. Damn. The rest of the session felt amazing, but nothing X-rated. Maybe next time. Hopefully there will be many, many, next times before I have to bust him. I could get used to this duty.
***
I returned to the station feeling like a relaxed noodle.
Shinto, there already, leaned on my desk with a smirk the size of Texas. Her hair coiled back in the familiar braid, all vestiges of makeup scrubbed away. “Hey. How did you do?”
I shrugged. “So that’s how the other half lives. It did not suck.” I knew my hair still shined with oil and probably stuck out at weird angles. “He didn’t say anything. Just worked my body into a state of contentment and bliss.” I checked the mirror in my desk, and saw clumps of mascara under my eyes, not on my eyelashes. Damn. I rubbed my eyes and made it worse. “How about you?” I gave up on the mascara and rolled my head from side to side, it felt so good.
“We had quite the gabfest. My gal is a talker. She wanted to know all kinds of shit not listed on the intake sheet. I think I got a lock on this. She’s going to come on to me next session. I’m sure of it. You don’t have to get another massage.”
“Whoa there, girl. I like these massages. My guy might be slow, but we still need time to bust him.”
“Want to put your money where your mouth is?”
“You’re on. How much?” By then everyone in the station gathered around and began taking sides. “Shinto, seriously, how are we going to bust both of them at the same time?”
“That’s a tricky one. Guess if one of us is asked ‘the question,’ we should see if we can get them to turn on their friend.”
“Wh
at did you do to get her so talkative?”
“I’m not shy about my body, and she was kind of cute. I undressed slowly and deliberately while she asked me about illnesses or broken bones. By the time she finished I stood bare-ass naked. I climbed on the bed and let her drape the sheet over me. I told her I didn’t need the sheet. By then she got it. We connected. I told her normal massages bored me and could she recommend anything else special? Maybe with a guy and her. A ménage à trois?”
“And?”
“She said she would look into it and have an answer next time I came in.” Shinto leaned over and tapped a drum roll on the desk with her fingernails. “That’s how it’s done, ladies and gentlemen.”
Laughter erupted in the squad room.
“Bitch.” I laughed too. I couldn’t help myself.
Chapter Seventeen
Junior
The screen door slammed behind me, and four heads turned and glared my way.
“Hola. Let the good times roll, eses,” I said to break the tension.
“Ese yourself, white boy,” Fuck You muttered.
“You’re late, Junior,” Miguel said. “We set a time, we make the time.”
“Didn’t know I had to punch a time card, amigo.”
Miguel scowled. “Listen, pendejo, you get your ass here when I say be here. Comprénde?”
I shrugged and sat on the arm of the couch.
He turned back to the group seated around him on chairs and sofa. “As I was saying,” he glared at me, and I stared back expressionless, “this is a simple operation. In and out. I’ll have a stopwatch. You get in and get out, no more than five minutes or I’ll deduct from your share. Got it?” Everyone nodded. “I have golf bags for you and shirts with the country club’s logo on them. Do you have pants that aren’t baggy?”
“No,” four of us said in unison.
“Naturally. Yolanda will measure your asses and get you golf pants. Then you’ll fit right in.”
“This is how it’s going down. I’ll drive the four of you to the golf course. You’ll pull your bags, walk slow, and talk to each other. If other golfers see you they won’t get suspicious. Stay on the outskirts of the course where the fancy houses are. When you see a house with sliding glass doors, two of you will act like you are looking for balls and scout it out. Watch for dogs and alarms.
They got an alarm sticker, a sign, sensors on their windows, move on. The cops roll faster for rich folks. When you give the go signal, the other two will go around and try the door. If it’s open, great, go into the bedroom and grab as much jewelry, cash, and anything else of value that will fit in a golf bag. If the window isn’t open, break it with this. It’s a multi-purpose tool that can break glass to get you out of a car submerged in water. It’s quiet and fast. We’ll do as many houses as we can in two hours, and then we are out of there. Any questions?”
I shook my head.
The kid known as Dog, whose parents had to have been bloodhounds, boomed, “That’s cool.” He took the tool, turned it over, and used it to break his plastic cup. Not the smartest guy in town, but he was big and fast and looked like he could handle himself.
The kid called Chigger, about the size of a flea, could not sit still. “When we doin’ this, man?”
“Depends. Today I have to decide who’s working together.”
Nacho piped in. “I’ll work with the new guy.”
I’d heard of and seen Nacho at parties. We hadn’t spoken before. It surprised me that he volunteered to partner up since he was a member of the inner circle. “We’ll go in,” Nacho said. “The other two can be lookouts.”
“Done.” Miguel slapped his hands together and stood. “I’ll text everyone when Yolo has your pants and we’re a go. Adios.”
Chapter Eighteen
Kailey and Shinto
Time to get back into character and undercover work. I liked taking on another personality. The clothes, makeup, and diamonds changed the way I felt about myself. That’s what I’d been missing all my life, a little class. I sashayed out of the station locker room, and when I hit the common area, I got catcalls and whistles. So I did a twirl and bowed, blew them a kiss, and headed out to the difficult job of getting another massage. Being a cop is simply every kind of hell.
I showed up to the massage parlor five minutes late, wobbling in another pair of very high heels. I felt foot cramps in my future.
I entered and heard a loud crash and shouts coming from the back. I hurried through the reception area toward the commotion. A crowd of semi-dressed and naked patrons peered out of their rooms as I dashed by.
A door opened and a pretty brunette with big boobs in a tight white cotton T-shirt and khaki pants struggled to exit the room but kept being yanked back by her arm.
She kicked and shrieked, “Help! Call the police! Leave me alone, you crazy bitch.”
I heard Shinto calmly say, “I am the police. You are under arrest.”
I got to the room in time to see the girl lunge at a totally naked Shinto and head-butt her. They both tumbled onto the table and tipped it over. Arms and legs entwined, the women bellowed. Shinto’s sounded like more of a growl.
My eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light. I found the dimmer, turned the lights up to full wattage, and laughed. The table sat to the side, upended, and my masseuse stood handcuffed against the far wall dodging the two women rolling on the floor. Shinto landed a fist to her masseuse’s nose. Blood spurted.
The woman shrilled and kicked at Shinto. I pulled handcuffs out of my purse and attempted to grab one of her arms. She saw me coming and landed a right foot to my jaw when I reached for her. She kicked, and I toppled over. My skirt ripped when I landed with a thud.
The woman turned from me and snapped a kick into Shinto’s stomach. Shinto clamped onto the yowling woman’s foot and twisted. The woman fell. I crawled over to her and got a fist in the eye for my efforts. I grabbed her hand anyway and secured one arm while Shinto pinned the other. I whipped the struggling woman around and secured her hands with my cuffs.
Shinto picked up the overturned chair, righted it, and calmly sat. She reached overhead for her hot pink thong hanging on the hook behind her. “Nailed it.”
My masseuse hung his head while Shinto’s girl shrieked, “Police brutality. You saw what she did to me.”
I read them both their Miranda rights while Shinto dressed and the woman cursed.
“I’ll call it in, have a patrol car take these two so we can return all our baubles.” Shinto stood and stepped into a leopard print dress that tied in the front. Her hot pink bra lace peeked out of a deep V-neck. Her black spiked heels completed her ensemble. “I can’t wait to return this stuff. Too girly-girl. Now leather and whips, that’s what I’m talking about.” She licked her lips and winked.
“Shinto, you know you look good.”
She chuckled. “I do, don’t I?”
I scanned down my ripped and bloody outfit, and it occurred to me that I might be in a world of hurt. I’d seen the price tag on this stuff. It would take months to pay off the blouse. I should have followed Shinto’s lead and fought naked.
“Damn it, Shinto, you couldn’t wait? I told you I looked forward to a massage. Now all I’ll have is a black eye and memories. Not real good ones either.” I scowled at the female masseuse, panting and all hollered out.
“Kailey, stop whining. Dudes in the squad room may treat you with pussy gloves. I won’t.”
What could I do but laugh?
Chapter Nineteen
Junior
I’d never participated in a robbery, much less been in on the planning. My offenses were all based on impulse. If I saw it, I took it. If a woman caught my eye and I was in the mood, WHAM, she got all of me. This was a whole different bag.
A big part of me worried about getting popped and disappointing my newfound friends, Patricia and Mr. Miller, particularly. The other part, the poor as a prison rat part, needed money. I wouldn’t get paid from my modeling gig until the
end of the month and I welcomed a new way to turn on the money tap.
The text came Tuesday at ten in the morning while I sat in class: Today is the day. We are on. Three p.m. sharp.
I got there at two-thirty, found a shirt, cap, and pants all folded in a neat pile with my name on top. A chair in the middle of the room held a box of black garbage bags, a box of latex gloves, and a hairnet for each of us. Son of a bitch. These guys know what the hell they’re doing, like they’d done it before. Cool. I get to learn from the best.
I dressed, found a spot at the kitchen table, and waited for the rest of the crew to arrive.
Yolanda rushed in. Her subtle perfume trailed behind as she snatched a beer from the refrigerator. She sat across from me and chugged half of it before swiping the back of her hand across her face. If she’d been a guy, I would have expected a huge belch.
She was bangin’ in a librarian kind of way; dressed in a tight pink blouse and purpley skirt. Long black hair piled on top of her head said she was all business. She stared at me, silent. Man she cleaned up good.
“Thanks for the gear.” I wiped sweat off my beer bottle with my thumb. The kitchen smelled of stale party.
She smiled. Multiple gold earrings climbed up her ears and a diamond in the side of her nose winked. The girl had definite flash. Cunning and intelligence camped behind her stare and I watched her size me up. Years in jail taught me who I could blow off and who I needed to watch. Yolanda I needed to watch closely.
“Looks like you either have a job or a doctor’s appointment,” I joked.
“Job.”
“Where do you work?” I continued my interrogation.
“Claydesta Bank. I’m a teller.”
“That’s cool. How long have you lived in Midland?” My megawatt smile in place, I slouched in a casual, unassuming pose.
“All my life. You?”
“I’m new to the area. Are you with Miguel?”
West Texas Dead: A Kailey and Shinto Mystery Page 7