by Deanna King
She paused again, inhaling more oxygen, and Jack knew that this was a struggle for her, but he exhibited patience.
“There were so many people you could have arrested back then, but some of the cops were paid to ignore it. Some of the muscle, if that’s what you want to call it, moved here from Chicago, and that’s when things started going sideways.”
She stopped talking, she wasn’t coughing, nor trying to fill her diseased lungs with more oxygen. She was thinking. Jack saw it in her face; she was deliberating something, a war in her own mind as to what she wanted to say and whom she wanted to, for lack of a better phrase, “rat out.”
“It’s not revenge, just because I am dying and I’m not trying to ruin someone’s life. I need to get this story out and ease my own conscience. Someone needs to know the truth. Before you say you understand, I’m not confessing. My past profession, well, hell, everyone was consenting, understand what I mean?”
“If you start telling me names and events, you understand that I’ll do my job, so if you feel you need to stop this interview and take your story, uh, with you, uh, just tell me now.”
He almost said take the story to your grave, however, he felt that was a heartless statement.
She understood exactly what he meant, and she continued her story.
“Back to the girls. I told you I was high on the requests, and I got the big dollar tricks. Some of the men didn’t even want sex. I was a hired date like a real escort service not having to work on my back or my knees.” She sputtered out a laugh and saw that Jack had blushed a tad.
“When a new boss began running the girls, we were all happy. We kept running it out of the bars but things changed. It was more upscale. I was with lawyers, city officials, corporate executives, cops, and…” She coughed and wiped her mouth as spittle had spewed out.
Jack ignored it; he even looked away as she wiped her mouth. He was sure she was a bit embarrassed.
She began again. “Back in the day when I looked like that picture, I got high dollar for being good at what I was good at, and then I felt it go sideways, and danger crept in.”
“I have a question, Daphne.”
“What, Jack?”
“Was it Celeste Mason that took over the girls, because you haven’t mentioned her, and she is the sole reason I am here?”
“Yeah, she took over in 1981 until 1986. I’d heard she was getting multiple threats, someone wanted her to either sell out or disappear. When that attorney got popped I thought it would stop because I thought it was him, but the threats kept coming, or so I heard through the grapevine.”
“This attorney, what happened?” Lucky told him something about an attorney the other day associated with his missing girl.
“In late 1985, I think it was August, or early September, in the early morning hours someone drove up and shot the attorney, Roger Stockard, in the head, then shot Archie Bowers. It made page four in the newspapers, and I am here to say to this day that it was a hit, someone wanted them dead.”
She shifted in her bed, cleared the phlegm from her throat, and spit it into a Kleenex.
“How could you know that?”
“Because, Jack, I slept with men, higher-up men, and some of them talked when they’d been drinking or after some fantastic sex. Pillow talk can be about all kinds of stuff and, hon, men loved to talk to me about everything, much to my dismay.”
Pillow talk with prostitutes—not something he would have ever imagined existed.
“Then Jo went missing, and I haven’t seen her in thirty years. One of the bartenders had a mysterious accident, then Celeste was found in her car dead. A new boss came onboard and things changed. The girls weren’t happy, not like they had been with her.”
“What changed?”
“Drugs were being brought in, and that business was growing. They continued to run girls and gambling, but some meaner people were infiltrating the system. Some of the girls ended up strung out on drugs, all they were working for was a fix, and all the money went to the new boss. Some of the other girls went MIA. I think they ran off or were killed off, because no one has ever heard what happened to them.”
“Are you telling me someone was murdering these hookers?” This was a dreadful thought.
“No, I think they ran off, but not Jo. Jo would never leave, I knew her better than anyone else did. She was the most popular hooker the stable had, and she was bringing in the big bucks. I was second in demand, but we were like night and day. She was missing, not gone. Someone reported it, but the cops never looked into it. Hell, no one cares when a whore is missing, Jack, it’s one less vile person on the streets. The cops on the take let it go, looked the other way.”
“Yeah, dirty cops would’ve ignored it,” Jack agreed.
“You didn’t have to know all of this, but it’s my story. Jenna called me giving me a heads-up, to tell me that Celeste’s murder investigation was re-opened. I am dying, and I’m not afraid to die. Back then, I was worried sick over what was going to happen, and if I’d get whacked knowing what I did.”
“You said a bartender had a mysterious accident, what was that about? Take your time, I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her as she breathed in and out, laboring a bit.
Inhaling the oxygen, she relaxed when her lungs felt filled again and began. “Randy, he was a cop’s son who was a screwup. He made some idle threats, and he hated Celeste. He did most of the ‘pandering’ for the Silver Moon. He was found dead in his car, supposedly a one-car accident, he had hit a tree, and his neck was broken. I never believed it was an accident.”
“Why, what was suspicious about a car accident, Daphne?”
“They said he was drunk, and we all knew Randy didn’t drink. He talked too much and was a pain in the ass, but he didn’t smoke, drink, or do drugs. This accident happened when Jo went missing and he was causing a big stink about her being gone. Jo and Randy were tight, and he was digging where he shouldn’t be digging. Then Jenna up and quit hooking and Sarge took her off to live in that Podunk town, Waller, Texas, and she’s been there ever since. Sarge stayed on, he was loyal to Celeste, but he needed to make a living with or without her in the picture.”
“Who was Randy’s father, which cop, Daphne?”
“It was Ian Simpson’s son.”
Jack sat up straight. Ian Simpson and Pete Bullard—they had worked the case, more like had not worked the case.
“How can you be sure it wasn’t an accident?”
“Jack, for God’s sake, pillow talk, pillow talk. One night I got the real story from a client. Randy got whacked.”
“Who?” Jack leaned in. “Who did it, Daphne?”
“It doesn’t matter any longer, Jack, that person is dead too.”
“It may not matter to you, but it does to me, so tell me.” Hellfire, why hadn’t someone reported this, it was a cop’s son, for Christ’s sake. He wasn’t going to let this go, and she saw that.
“Bullard, Pete Bullard.”
Jack’s jaw dropped. Ian Simpson’s own partner killed Simpson’s only son. This was crazy. “Ian Simpson knew?” Jack was in shock. An officer of the law committed a murder; to him that was inconceivable.
“Yes, he did, he had no other choice. Randy was threatening to blow the whole organization up, take it all to the law. He was mad because Jo was gone. Pete didn’t want it to go down and neither did Ian. They threatened that they would kill Ian as a warning to Randy. Ian knew that both he and his son would be dead if that happened. People have been known to sell out their own grandmother if it means life or death to them.”
Daphne inhaled then hacked until her face had a tinge of color. Jack’s insides were rolling al
l over the place.
“How, how did he do this? I mean, I’m not sure what to do with this.” Jack raked his hands through his hair.
“Let it be, Jack. You can’t charge a dead man, and you can’t bring Randy back. I heard that Pete Bullard died. Let it go. Now, Jack, back to the girls, please.”
“Sure, Daphne, I guess I’m shell shocked right now.”
His head was spinning. Should he report this, what would it matter if he did, Bullard was already dead, his wife was too, and they had no kids. Daphne might be right; this part of the story could stay buried since Bullard was dead, however, this really was not his call to make.
Daphne understood and didn’t blame him, but she hoped he would let it stay buried. Harvey turned up the oxygen a bit more, and she closed her eyes.
“In the old days, with Celeste, there was no need to worry about cops. Like I said, we kept it in the club and she paid cops to watch our ass. New boss meant new rules. All at once the girls were ‘streetwalkers’ and upscale was dying out. Johnny Law pinched quite a lot of the girls and I think Jenna was smart for getting out when she did. It was a Catch-22. The new boss wanted us to work that way, but we didn’t have enough cop protection, and he was getting pissed.”
“No one walked…just tried to leave? It doesn’t sound like pimping, not the way I know it,” Jack threw in. Daphne never implied that anyone forced her to be a hooker.
“No, you could leave whenever you wanted. Most of them, as I said, were strung-out on drugs so they couldn’t leave. Top dollar stuff wasn’t what it used to be. I blended into the shadows and kept a low profile. Girls and drugs were big money, even the bookies were losing business and pulling out. The ‘boss’ got his legal, or rather illegal deals, swept under the rug. He should’ve been in jail, but he got out of all of it. Even his goons got away with crap, all they got was a tiny slap on the wrist. It pissed me off.”
She opened her eyes. Her voice was louder and stronger than it had been before. With the vehemence used to spit out those last four words, a coughing fit ensued.
“Sorry, Jack. That happens when I get excited and pissed.”
He could tell her not to get mad or excited, but he did not think it would do much good. She was a bit bossy, even if she was a dying woman.
“I don’t understand how he was able to get away with all of this?”
“The boss had an attorney from hell, and I do mean he was the Devil. At first, all he did was give the girls counsel—represented them in court and kept them out of jail. It’s like he knew someone and had it all worked out. Oh, the girls were happy not to have to sit in a jail cell. When he became more influential, the cost of staying out of jail was steeper.”
“He charged them a fee? Why didn’t the boss pay the fees? They were his employees, in a sense, that is?”
“The price was taken out in flesh, Jack, he extorted sex, that was his deal, and that’s how the girls paid him. The damn attorney was mean, and he liked it rough;—sadomasochism, bondage—hurting was his sexual pleasure. Before he became the boss man’s attorney, he was just another john. He always paid top dollar and continually asked for Jo. She wasn’t always available when he wanted some. I got him once before he was working for the new boss full-time. He was mean and liked hurting, inflicting pain, and he just about choked the life out of me with scarves. When he was done I wanted to kill him.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed. He would never understand that kind of perverted thinking. He considered himself a very passionate and gentle, giving lover. What made a man like that?
“This is all an interesting story, but what does this have to do with the death of Celeste Mason?”
“It’s my story, Jack, you want to hear it or not?” Her eyes burrowed into his.
“Of course I do, Daphne.” He was hoping he got something out of this story. He was trying to find out why someone had murdered Celeste Mason…his soul purpose there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“As I was saying, things changed for the worse. There were crooked cops, corrupt attorneys, and judges who were lining their own pockets with ill-gotten gains, but I didn’t care about that. What I did care about was where Jo was. No one had seen her in months. I looked for her and called her family up in Ohio. Her family had written her off, so that was a bust.”
She stopped, and she closed her eyes, thinking, not struggling to breathe, and Jack felt like pulling his hair out…this had nothing to do with his case. Hell, the woman was dying. He just needed to relax.
“Look, Jo was a bit of a weirdo, and she went in for that kind of sex, the S&M stuff. She made buckets of money for doing that kinky scary crap. For the money, she would do some crazy filthy sex, the more dangerous the sex was, the more she liked it, and the more the johns paid. She told me about some of the stupid stuff she allowed, from hard spanking, whipping, bondage, even choking sex. In fact, the cop’s son and a few of the cops got off on that kind of sexual encounter, and she was giving it to Randy free. I knew it was bad business. I tried to tell her that one day it would go too far.” She began to cry.
“Daphne, do you want to stop for a while?” Jack was concerned that this was too much for her.
“No, give me a minute.” She took a second to compose herself.
“I liked Jo, she was sassy, confident, and ballsy. The other girls tolerated her, and she hated Celeste. She had Jed, and Jo wanted him. Randy told me once that he thought she did this stuff to get Jed out of her system. Jack, I am here to say that she let it go too far.”
“Logan? Was that Jed’s last name?” Jenna had mentioned him.
Her voice now very weak, she was more than tired. “Yes, that was it…Logan. One night I got some information.” She began her story but stopped when she saw the look on the detective’s face as if a light bulb had flashed over his head.
It hit him square in the face. Missing whores…Lucky’s girl was a missing prostitute, and her name was JoAnn…could this be the same one…this Jo…what in the heck were the odds?
“Detective, what is it?”
A look crossed his face as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water straight at him.
“Did you girls have call names or street names you went by?” He was an idiot for not asking sooner.
“I was called DD for Desirable Daphne. Why?”
“What was Jo’s street name?” It was a far-fetched idea that ran through his head.
This made Daphne make a croaky laugh. “At first, she was calling herself Juicy Jo, but she had done this kind of work before Star Wars came out in the late seventies and she was in awe over that movie, saw the damn thing four times. When the second one came out in the mid-eighties, she was first in line. She saw the bit about the gold bikini and she changed her name to Princess Layya, in honor of her hero.”
Jesus Christ, his case and Lucky’s case could be, no, not could be, were, connected in some way. This was absurd and more than unexpected. What were the odds in this happening, son of a bitch.
“Sorry I interrupted you,” he apologized, but his adrenaline was pumping.
“Jo went missing, Celeste was found dead, that was when Jed Logan stopped working the clubs. I was at the Crystal Barrel one night and the bartender, Skip, was closing up. He was a sweet moron, and my last john had dropped me off. I was there having one last drink for the night, watching him close up, and I don’t know why, but I made a comment that I missed the old days and I missed Celeste. I don’t think he even knew he said it, but he responded absentmindedly that he’d mention that to her when he saw her. His voice had been so low I almost didn’t catch it.”
In Jack’s peripheral vision, he saw a slight change in Harvey’s posture; he sat up, tilted his head, and clenc
hed his jaw.
“Did he say anything else?”
“Not right away, I excused myself, said I’d be right back, and I went to the ladies room to think. I could manipulate men. Hell, I was a prostitute. I’d sell you a shitty blow job for a hundred bucks or more and make it worth your while, or at least make you believe that. I figured Skip was dumb enough to talk without even knowing he was talking.”
“So?”
“I wasn’t ready to call it a night. I told him I never got a chance to talk to nice men. He told me he wasn’t very nice. He wouldn’t look at me while he was talking. He was immature for a near thirty-year-old. He had fewer marbles in his bag than most, but he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. We talked and drank. I have to tell you that alcohol and Skip combined made it easy to get information.”
She sounded breathless, so Harvey turned up the oxygen. He had a hostile look, again. Jack figured it was because Daphne was wearing out and he was ready for Jack to get out of his house and out of their lives.
“Daphne, if you need to stop you should.” Harvey looked at her. “This is the most you’ve talked in six months, it’s wearing you out.”
Her eyes said no, as she let oxygen fill her nostrils and her lungs, and then she took up where she had left off.
“Skip told me that the new boss was okay, but he was intimidated by him. He told me a huge secret, you know, as a drunk tells a secret, but I couldn’t tell. He was shushing me, and he leaned into my ear and told me that Celeste was in hiding, but I couldn’t tell anyone. I tried hard not to come unglued, and then I thought about Jo and where she was and if this was true, what else did Skip know?”
“What did he tell you? Did he tell you anything that will help me, Daphne? Your story is interesting…”
“Detective West, keep your pants on, this is my story, and damn it, I’m telling it.” She coughed until Jack thought she would vomit because she yelled, and Harvey gave Jack the evil eye. When her coughing spell subsided, she inhaled more oxygen and began again.