by T. J. Jones
"Honey? Every other stripper in here goes by that name, you need to be more specific."
"Here, I have a picture." Maggie pulled out her phone and brought up the picture of Jasmine, with Derrick and Honey. "She's the one on the right, the older one."
"I would hope so, the little one better not be stripping. Yeah, I know that gal. She moved on. Her and her old man were making all kinds of demands, like they were headliners or something. They wanted appearance money on top of the regular tips, just because they had been in some third-rate porno that no one had ever heard of. Our manager told them to hit the bricks."
"When was that?"
"Just a few days ago. They weren't here long. I heard they went down to the White Sands. It's a nicer place than this, but they kind of expect the girls to hustle on the side. They don't all do it, but if you're looking for a sure thing, that's the place to go."
"Why does that sound familiar?" Maggie looked at me.
"Diego Salazar hangs out there, Cletus Johnson's buddy."
"You know Cletus?" The stripper laughed. "Big, heavy biker guy? Small world, am I right?"
The White Sands did look like a nicer place. It was across the highway from the beach, maybe a mile from the spot where Angie, Davey and I had partied as teenagers on a night that seemed like a dozen lifetime's ago.
So much of that night made sense to me now, now that I understood the pain they had shared and how they managed to help each other through it. Angela Jeffries had been lost to the torments of an evil, twisted father, and it had only been because of Davey that she had survived; she and another dozen or so girls that he had managed to rescue from a different, yet similar torture. Now it was my turn, mine and Maggie's, to find and save another girl from some unknown torment. If only that damn Butterfly would leave us alone.
"Slater." Maggie brought me back to the present. "Do you have some cash? There's a door charge and I left my purse in the car."
"Yeah, sorry." I handed the large attendant a pair of twenties. "Any new girls?"
"Lots of girls, Buddy, but most of them don't hold a candle to what you got here."
"Thank-you sir." Maggie turned her nose up. "He still insists on coming to places like this and drags me along. I don't think he appreciates me."
He grinned at her and talked past me. "Hang in here until about three Sugar, I'll appreciate the hell out of you."
"We're looking for a friend, a dancer named Honey." Maggie played along. "She's short, mousy blondish hair, runs with a guy named Derrick?"
"Yeah, I know who you mean. They friends of yours?"
"Acquaintances, more or less."
"They're in there, always bragging about their time in the film industry. Annoying if you ask me. We're close to capacity so it might take a while to find them, but good luck."
The music was too loud and the room was too full. There were a number of girls spread out across the long stage, some clothed, some not. There were possibly a hundred guys, college kids that had escaped the snow and ice of the frozen north, lined up four-deep in front of the stage. Behind them, scattered loosely around the huge room were dozens of tables where more people sat, some peering in the direction of the stage, some with their own personal dancers. Some of the dancers, in the darker quieter corners of the room, were doing more than just dancing for their tips.
Maggie looked at the mob of drunken college kids and winced. "This really sucks. Let's find Derrick and Honey and get out of here."
"We have to see if Diego's around too. It's so loud in here it's going to be hard to strike up a conversation with anyone. Why don't you sit here, order us a beer and ask about Honey. I'll go up to the bar and see if one of the bartenders knows anything about Salazar. Will you be alright here, all by your lonesome?"
"No worries, but if any two-bit celebrity grabs me by the pussy, there's going to be bloodshed."
The bathroom was next to the bar on the far end of the club, so I went in there first. When I was done, I stepped to the sink, washed my hands and was toweling them dry when a man stepped out of the stall and walked up to the adjacent sink. He was nearly my height, but slim and weathered with oily black hair. The jagged scar on his cheek looked fresh.
He nodded at my reflection in the mirror. "Looking for a girl for the evening? I can fix you up."
"Kind of why I came." I said, fishing. "Buddy I know from up north said I could find just about anything I want in here if I talk to the right guy. Kind of looking for him."
"Yeah? Who's that?"
"Salazar, Diego Salazar." I caught a reaction. "Friend of a friend, but my buddy said to look for Salazar and he could fix me up."
"Seen him outside earlier, but he's small time and he's usually buying, not selling. Just out of the joint and he's laying low. I got three or four girls I could put you on. One's very special, if you're into it."
"Special, how's that?"
"Young stuff, but a really sweet girl. New in town and I been keeping her off the street, saving her for special customers. Cost you, but I guarantee it'll be worth it."
"How young are we talking?"
"Real young, fresh out of Honduras. They must start early down there 'cause she's a wild one already. She says she's sixteen, but I'm guessing younger. You a cop?"
"If I was, you'd be in handcuffs by now. The girlfriend, she and I both like young girls, but that's a stretch. We're on vacation, and I don't want to spend it in jail."
"Dude, I'm impressed! Your girl goes for that? Spend a few bucks and give the old lady something special to remember Daytona by. I'll be outside later if you change your mind, but the price goes up at closing time. I'm Ramone, just ask the girls if you can't find me." He grabbed my hand and shook it, then turned and left.
I washed up again.
"Any luck?" Maggie asked when I returned with our second set of beers.
"Met a charming pimp in the bathroom that tried to line me up with a date that's all of sixteen years old. He did say he knew Salazar and that he might be around."
"Soon as we leave, I'm calling the cops." Maggie took a drink and looked around the bar. "The waitress said she saw Honey and Derrick, she's going to send them over."
"Want to just go? If they're here, they're not our kidnappers."
"How do we know they don't have an accomplice? As long as we came all this way, we might as well talk to them."
"I guess. If they're planning on a big ransom, I don't know why they would hang out here. I can't imagine why anybody would hang out here."
"What's the story with this young girl?" Maggie asked casually.
"I know that look. We can't save them all, Maggie. Remember, we're trying to find Jasmine."
"I know, I'm just asking." She smiled innocently, but I wasn't buying it.
"Eric Slater!" Derrick called my name loudly, then came walking up to our table. "Shirley said there was a couple of tourists looking for me and I hoped it was you two. Where's my kid? They don't pay any attention to how old people are around here, she could have gotten in."
He was just too much of a rube to be deceitful. There was just no way he could be our kidnapper.
Maggie must have agreed. "We were down here looking for someone on a case, and we thought we'd stop by."
"Oh yeah, the Private Eye deal. Who you looking for?"
"Diego Salazar, he supposedly hangs out here."
"Oh yeah, I know him. Big talker. He's a funny guy, and he thinks he's a lady's man. He was trying to get with Honey. He's usually in here, but I haven't seen him tonight."
"What does he look like?" I asked.
"Normal guy, except for the hat." Derrick shrugged. "Cuban, I think. Kind of good-looking, and he always wears one of those hats, like he's Bogart in Casablanca."
"A Fedora?"
"Yeah, only it's bright white, weird. Honey is dancing in a few minutes, you should come up front and watch."
Maggie bumped my foot under the table. "We can only stay a few minutes." I explained. "It's getting late fo
r an old guy like me, but we wanted to be sure and say Hi, since we were in town."
"Are you sure? Honey will feel bad that you missed her act."
"That makes one of us, but give her our best." Maggie's sarcasm was wasted.
Derrick frowned unhappily. "Sorry you can't stick around and see the show."
"Yeah, I've seen enough." She said. He gave her a curious look, then tipped up his beer and walked away. Maggie sat back and sighed, then gave me an accusing look.
"What? I can't help that I was born a guy."
"As a group you're a disgusting lot, but for some reason I like you."
"That's a good thing since I'll probably be living at your house pretty soon. I presume the invite is still good." I took the eyeroll as a yes.
We left our beers and walked back to the entrance. The bouncer at the door gave Maggie a big smile again. "Leaving already Beautiful?"
"Yeah, a little bit of Honey goes a long way." Maggie joked. "We were looking for another guy too, but he isn't in there. Diego Salazar?"
The bouncer frowned. "You two cops?"
"Private, not the real kind." I volunteered. "We're trying to track down an underage girl for a client, and we hear Diego might know where she is."
"Sounds like Diego. He thinks he's quite the stud, and he doesn't card his girlfriends. His parole officer had a talk with my manager, and he's not allowed in the club. Some nights he sneaks in, but not on my watch."
"So he hasn't been around?" Maggie asked.
"I didn't say that, Sugar. Some of the girls go out the side door to smoke in between dances. Salazar is always out there trying to hook up. Bunch of new girls started last night, so I'd bet he's over there trying to make a new friend. Walk around to the south side of the building. There's a light over the back door so the girls feel safe. You can't miss him, he wears this ridiculous white Fedora."
"Thanks," Maggie glanced at his nametag. "Jimmy. You're very sweet."
"Appreciative too, just saying." He looked at me and winked. "Take good care of her Sherlock, or I'll come calling."
We walked around the corner and saw the light Jimmy had mentioned. Sure enough, there was a small cloud of smoke, three strippers, and a white Fedora, all clearly illuminated by the overhead. I took Maggie's hand and we wandered down the street as if we were walking to our car. When we were even with the little group we cut across the grass and walked up to them. They stopped chatting and looked in our direction.
"Diego Salazar?" I smiled, hoping to make it simple. The strippers all dropped their cigarettes and crowded through the door back into the club.
"Yeah? Who's asking?" He glanced at Maggie and gave her a smile.
"Names Slater. I'm wondering if you know anything about a girl named Jasmine Thatcher?"
"Shit!" He exclaimed and turned tail. It wasn't much of a race. Maggie and I ran most mornings and I was in pretty good shape from working construction. He had been smoking with the girls and his legs were considerably shorter than mine. I caught him within a hundred feet and rode his back down to the street. His white hat flew off when I slammed him to the ground and rolled him over so I could talk to him. He whimpered a little and put his arms up. "Not the face! Not the face!"
"You are not that pretty Diego, and I just want to talk."
"All I did was call her once. Okay, twice. I called her twice, but I didn't know she was only seventeen, honest."
"Don't lie to us." Maggie knelt down holding his hat. "Crap, there's more hair gel in this hat than most people use in a year. Slater's right, you just aren't that pretty."
"You're going to be a lot less pretty, unless you tell me why you called Jasmine."
"Okay, okay. Just no hitting, alright?" I stayed on top of him, just in case. "I was in the can with Cletus Johnson. He said she went for older guys and she had a lot of dough. I'm older, and I got a lot more to offer than Cletus."
"That's debatable." Maggie said.
"I just thought I'd give it a shot, so I called her. First time she was nice enough, but she said she was seeing someone already. I've heard that line before, so I tried again. The second time she gave me an earful, so I backed off and never called her again. Nasty temper, that little Chica."
"And that's it? You never went to see her?" I cocked my fist, and he covered his face again, wailing about his good looks. Maggie shrugged and tossed his hat down next to his head. I got up slowly and bumped him with my foot. "You stick to women your own age Diego, or I'll be back and I won't be so nice, got that?"
"Yeah, I got that Mr. Slater."
"I'd have been alright with you punching him." Maggie muttered as we started back around the building.
We walked around the front, since our car was down the street to the north. Jimmy stood at the front door and gave Maggie a little wave and a smile. There were a couple cars in the street, with women standing beside them, negotiating. Maggie just shook her head and kept walking.
After we walked down the street away from the lights, a man stepped from the shadows suddenly. It was the pimp I had encountered in the bathroom. He grinned at me, appraised Maggie, then motioned toward the bushes.
"Think any more about that threesome, senor? She is very young, and very sweet, a special night for you and your woman."
The light was dim, but I could just discern the shadowy figure of a small girl backed up to a row of shrubbery. She had her head down, and her long black hair was hanging in her face. The night was cooling, but all she was wearing was a sleeveless shirt and a pair of cutoffs. I stepped back a little. The cops were starting to sound like a good option.
"She is pretty." Maggie surprised me, walking closer. "How much?"
His smile broadened. "For you Darlin', an even grand. Another five hundred includes a room for the night, and anything you would like for her to do. Her English is not so good, so you might have to show her what you like. That can be a good time too, am I right?"
I was ready to shoot him just for using that expression, and I was pretty sure Maggie would have been okay with it. She grinned at him and nodded. "Can I go and check her out? That's a lot of money, I want to know what we're getting."
"Sure, look her over good, feel her up if you want. She is shy at first, but very willing."
Maggie walked over to the young girl and reached her hand out. She leaned away from Maggie's touch and pushed herself deeper into the bushes, never lifting her head.
"Chica!" The pimp yelled sharply and pointed at her, then started shouting instructions in Spanish. The girl lifted her head and moved forward slightly. Maggie slid an arm around her back and pulled her closer.
The pimp smiled at me and held out his hand. "It looks like we have a deal Senor. Your woman, she likes the little one. I told you this girl was very sweet, didn't I?"
"She doesn't look sixteen to me, Ramone. Fifteen will get you twenty." Maggie and the tiny girl were talking quietly, and I needed to keep Mr. Pimp busy.
"She says sixteen, but she has no papers so I cannot be sure. If she is lying, what can I do? I am a businessman, and she is going to be very good for business. Am I right?"
"Stop saying that!" I really wanted to hit him. "No God damn way that girl is sixteen, you slimy asshole. She looks like she's twelve."
"Senor! She is small, but she knows what is what, I can tell you that for sure."
"What is what doesn't matter from jail, dumb ass." I was losing it.
Ramone wasn't happy either. "You know, I don't like this name calling, it makes me upset. Maybe we will have to call this deal off, before I have to call my friends. Or perhaps I will have to hurt you myself." He pulled his hands out of the pockets of his jacket. He held a cellphone in one hand and a knife in the other, which he flipped open with a practiced, casual flip of his wrist. "Perhaps you should go back to Wisconsin or Ohio, or whatever shithole place you call home, before you get hurt."
Maggie had stepped closer. The girl was crying and holding onto Maggie's hand, hiding behind her as she watched. I pointed
my gun at the pimp's face. "Perhaps you should walk the hell away. That little girl is done being your meal ticket."
"You have just made a huge mistake, Senor." He turned and spoke to the girl in Spanish. She didn't answer, but Maggie gave him an earful, also in Spanish. The knife disappeared and he stepped back. I kept the gun pointed at him. It surprised me when he lifted his cellphone and took my picture, then Maggie's.
"What the hell are you doing?" I asked.
He smiled and punched at his phone. "This is the twenty-first century Senor. I am sending your picture to the man who is going to kill you for stealing my property. This Chica is worth a great deal of money and you cannot just take her from me."
"Watch us." Maggie said walking behind me with the girl in tow. The pimp was yelling obscenities at all of us as I backed away. We ran the half a block to Maggie's car and she threw me the keys. She climbed in the back seat with the girl and I hit the gas. It was hard to say how far away the pimp's friends were, or how many of them he had. I just wanted to get us all back to Jacksonville as fast as possible.
Chapter Eighteen
You did what? You kidnapped a thirteen-year old girl?" Susan Foster was shouting and I had to move the phone away from my ear.
"It wasn't kidnapping, it was a rescue. Her parents were murdered by a gang in Honduras a year ago because they wouldn't give her up to the local gangs. She managed to run away and almost starved, then got picked up by the local police, who sold her to a Coyote that brought her to this country; all to get trafficked by some scumbag pimp in Daytona. She's like a poster child for the people you're trying to protect Susan, an immigrant child with absolutely no rights or protection."
"Exactly. She has no standing, no legal right to be here."
"What do we do, ship her back to Honduras so the whole thing can start all over? She wouldn't live through it, she'd kill herself if someone didn't do it for her. She's thirteen, Susan. Trust me, Maggie and Angela aren't going to give her up without a fight. And, for what it's worth, the pimp that had her took our pictures with his phone. So sooner or later something might happen there."