The Safe Word

by Karen Long

  There were several cars in front of Ellis but by the clouds of burning engine oil he imagined keeping up with the van wouldn’t prove too challenging. He called in and was patched through to Timms.

  “What’ve you got buddy?”

  “I’m following a white van, reg Alpha Bravo Echo Sierra 189,” said Ellis.

  “Uh-huh?” said Timms nonplussed.

  “Three individuals travelling north along Queen’s. Hang on it’s making a left at the next junction… yup, we’re on Elmore Avenue now.”

  “Well who’s in the fucking van and why am I interested?” snapped Timms.

  “Oh sorry, Cheswell Barnes and Sashia Yesikov. I was put through to you because Detective Raven is interrogating…”

  “…who’s the third?” interrupted Timms.

  “I don’t know.”

  “He look Russian, ugly?” asked Timms.

  “I didn’t catch a good look. Pretty sure it was a male but the windows to the back are blacked out. Hang on…” Timms let out a sigh of exasperation. “Ok they’ve cut off the main street and are parked in an alley next to the Hunca Munca Vegan Foods and…”

  “What the fuck is a Hunca Munca?” Timms clicked his fingers to get Wadesky’s attention. She stared at him, mouthing ‘What?’

  “Whoa something’s happening,” Ellis watched as Cheswell Barnes stepped out of the van and looked around. He had what looked like a photograph in his hand and was glancing at passing women and then the photograph. “I think he’s looking for someone.”

  “Cavalry’s on its way buddy.”

  Eleanor watched with interest as Laurence extracted a twenty from his wallet and paid Big Al. He seemed to have accepted that he would be paying for all coffees and lunches in this partnership for the foreseeable future, a position encouraged by Eleanor. He placed the cup in front of her.

  “You think Stollar was telling the truth?” asked Laurence delivering a shower of pastry crumbs.

  “He was consistent in the facts and I suspect that he’s striving for forgiveness. So logic says he is being subjectively truthful if not entirely accurate,” she replied.

  “You think he’s holding back?”

  “Not at all. But the mind protects us. Particularly if we’re motivated by guilt or fear of being judged and events may become warped, tipped in our favour. It’s our job to tease out the objective truths.”

  Laurence absorbed this, “So where do we start?”

  “How do you think?” she asked Laurence seriously.

  He paused. “Urm.”

  “Do you absorb verbal facts or do we have to visualise the data?” she asked curtly.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t… visualising helps,” he spluttered, unsure of her meaning. Eleanor turned over one of the paper menus and began to draw a spider-gram. In the center she wrote ‘perp’, circled it and linked it to the name ‘Lydia’. Laurence smiled encouragement and nodded. Eleanor handed him the pen.

  “Lydia likes her sex rough but Stollar doesn’t want to be caught doing something nasty,” said Laurence, pen poised.

  “Nasty? That’s a judgement call Detective,” said Eleanor coldly.

  “Sorry, yes. Well they were both into BDSM…” He waited till Eleanor nodded her approval. “But Stollar didn’t want to… didn’t feel he could role play a kidnapping on the street in case he was caught and compromised. But then she sees the ad in Xxxstacy and phones the perp. He then arranges to leave five thousand in cash behind the bar where it’s collected…”

  “How do you know it’s been collected?” asked Eleanor.

  “Shit!” Laurence gulped his coffee dregs and grabbing the menu they headed out.

  Ellis tried to formulate a possible scenario as to what the hell Cheswell Barnes was doing. So far he hadn’t come up with anything plausible. Barnes, after having presumably memorised the photograph his tongue sticking out as he gazed, was now hiding behind an upside down newspaper and peering over the top watching as the occasional woman passed along the street. He hadn’t given men a second glance. A couple of the women he had scrutinised carefully and made little hopping movements as if unsure whether he should act. There had been no sign of either Sashia or the unknown male in the back of the van and despite the fascination of watching Cheswell Barnes acting like the dumbest fuck he’d ever seen, Ellis was beginning to worry that he’d called Timms out prematurely. Suddenly, Barnes stood straight and stared intently at a woman who had appeared at the entrance of the avenue and was now walking casually towards the van. Barnes gave the photo one last check and then made his way rapidly to the driver’s seat and started the engine. Ellis saw that the white van would go straight past him and so he lowered himself in his seat trying to look as if he were taking a nap.

  “Timms? This is Ellis.”

  “Yeah, nearly with ya!” came the response.

  “The van is making a U turn and seems to be heading towards a white woman, twenties, no definitely thirties, wearing…” Ellis stared hard at the woman’s attire; it consisted of a gabardine raincoat tied loosely at her waist, fishnet stockings and black patent high-heeled shoes. “I think she might be a prostitute,” said Ellis weakly, not really convinced that this would be acceptable amongst the hookers he knew. They had a tendency to dress for a fast getaway, Nike trainers, joggers and sports tops.

  “What the fuck’s happening?” bellowed Timms.

  “The van’s slowing next to her. Should I attempt an arrest?”

  “No, just keep on their tail. We’re two blocks behind you, keep on this channel. Got it?”

  “Yes sir,” replied Ellis turning over the engine. “Oh Christ, they’ve got her!” screamed Ellis as he saw the woman spot the van and then begin to trot away on her impossible heels. The back doors of the white van flew open and the stocky man leaped out grabbed the now struggling woman and flung her into the back. The doors were pulled to and the vehicle accelerated in a cloud of black smoke and swerved dangerously into the traffic stream.

  “This is a 10-35! I repeat a 10-35!” shrieked Ellis as he accelerated towards the van. “He’s turning onto Dayton Street!”

  “Dayton? That’s gonna get him boxed in,” replied Timms.

  “Yes Dayton, I’m following. He’s turned into an unnamed alley between two warehouses, opposite the tyre place. Should I park?” Ellis asked nervously.

  “We’re pulling in to your right and back up’s sealing off their exit ok?”

  Ellis looked to his left and saw Timms and Wadesky moving quickly across the street, both hands wrapped round their weapons. Wadesky approached Ellis’ window and tapped lightly.

  “Ok buddy you armed?” asked Wadesky as Ellis nodded and stepped quickly out of the car. “You follow Timms’ lead I’m behind you both.” With a quick glance at Wadesky’s belly, he followed Timms to the corner of the alley. Using rapid finger movements Timms gestured that he would move in first and Ellis would follow. Ellis had made arrests before, several had required a quick fist to a drunken jaw but this was big league crime and he felt his adrenaline levels soar.

  The van was squeezed next to a small fire door, which had been left slightly ajar, a brick preventing it from slamming to in the wind. Ellis’ eyes flicked from the van to Timms who was peering round a brick wall waiting for the sign that would activate the operation. When it came Timms held up three fingers and counted down by the second. Timms moved more stealthily than Ellis thought possible for a man of so many years and calories. The younger man dropped in behind him and took up a hostile position ten feet clear of the van door. Timms indicated that Ellis should open the doors to the van; Wadesky covered the driver’s door from the entrance to the alley. Ellis reached out his hand and touched the door handle but before he could surprise the kidnappers the van doors burst open revealing Feodor Yesikov with the kidnap victim draped over his shoulder. Her gabardine raincoat was now missing and she was clad only in high heels, fishnet stockings and a black satin basque, which was doing sterling work holding in her ample figure
.

  “Hands up!” shrieked Ellis. Feodor’s mouth fell open in complete surprise as he tried to calculate the scene in front of him. Not having either the wit or imagination to do that he dropped the woman and shot both hands into the air. Ellis watched in horror as the woman rolled off Feodor’s shoulder onto the floor of the van and then bounced noisily onto the tarmac. Forgetting protocol he leaped forward and tried to help the woman who was groaning.

  “Step out of the van!” yelled Timms.

  Wadesky had moved forward and was gesturing to Cheswell Barnes with her gun to step out of the driver’s seat. Feodor lowered himself to the ground and walked towards Timms followed by Sashia clad in thigh-length leather boots, leather cat suit and studded gauntlets. Gently Ellis pulled the blindfold away from the woman’s eyes. “Are you injured? My name is patrolman Stephen Ellis and…”

  “Motherfucker!” screamed the victim and swung her fist in a confident arch, which landed with an explosive impact on Ellis’ cheek.

  “What the…” he stammered, vaguely aware that both Timms and Sashia were sniggering.

  “You fucking bastard!” repeated the woman staggering to her feet. Bemused, Ellis tried to dust her down in a caring yet appropriate manner. He was rewarded by a sudden bone crunching smack to the face. “I’ve been saving since fucking Christmas for this!”

  Chapter Nine

  Eleanor stared at the bartender’s face. His eyes flicked nervously and he curled his sweaty top lip under his teeth as he evaded their questions. “You’re telling me that the package left by Mr Stollar has disappeared. You don’t recall who collected it but someone did. Is that right?”

  “Yup, that’s it,” replied the bartender.

  “Why the fuck don’t I believe you then?” said Eleanor, her voice taking on a dangerous edge.

  “I dunno,” he shrugged.

  “It’s because you took the money and that makes you our lead suspect in the murder investigation,” said Eleanor pointedly.

  “Look, he said –”

  “Who? Stollar?”

  “Yes Stollar. He said the money would be picked up by Saturday.” The bartender’s expression was changing from shifty concealment to the hangdog misery of the cornered. “But no-one came. I worked all Friday and Saturday and no-one came and asked for it!”

  “So you stole it,” said Laurence.

  “No! I borrowed it.”

  “Uh-huh, so you’ve put it back then?”

  “No, I owed money to Rico Martinez and I thought…”

  “That if you bet the money on Rico’s notoriously fixed mutt races then you’d replace the five k and pay off Rico?”

  The bartender nodded enthusiastically pleased that they appreciated his logic.

  “But being the only fuckwit still sucking breath this side of Mars you didn’t realise that you never pay off a gambling debt to Rico Martinez. He’s a doper,”

  “I… not necessarily,” stammered the bartender weakly.

  “Bet big on a dog and pup gets a diazepam mixed in with his kibble,” said Eleanor. “So, now we’ve exhausted all the things you don’t know what the fuck do you know?”

  “Nothing,” said the bartender miserably.

  “‘Nothing’ gets you eighteen months to three and a cosy meeting with Nico’s buddies inside,” said Eleanor.

  “Look, I dunno what happened but all the money that got left here before always got collected,” he leaned towards Eleanor. “Some Russian guy collected. Big guy, nasty but he always collected same day they dropped it. This time nothing so I figured…” his voice trailed off.

  “You figured he’d been arrested or knocked off and the money was there for the taking,” said Eleanor helpfully.

  He nodded.

  “How many times had this happened before?” she asked.

  “Three, four maybe… about one a week.”

  “Did you know the people who dropped off the money?”

  “Yeah.” he nodded. “Regulars, you know.”

  Eleanor nodded, “You need to get your ass down to the station and tell all of this to my colleague Detective Sarah Wadesky. I want names. Today!” she said emphatically, handing him her card.

  “Soooo,” drawled Timms, taking a seat next to Ellis in the canteen, “This is what our ‘victim’,” Timms waved air quotes, “has agreed to.” He paused. “If you apologise for spoiling her spa day in the dungeon of Madam Yesikov she will drop charges.”

  Ellis’ mouth dropped open into the disbelief position. “She what? What charges?”

  Timms flipped open his notebook and read them out, “Endangering her person while making a false arrest…urm…oh yeah! Causing actual bodily harm by forcing the lovely Feodor to drop her several feet onto the ground and finally she wants her five thousand refunding.” Timms folded his notebook and grinned.

  “I saved her!” stated Ellis angrily.

  “No you didn’t,” replied Timms wagging a finger at him. “Miss Stone was engaged in a prearranged consensual sex act which constituted no breach of the peace and did not infringe anyone’s human rights.” He let this outrage sink in. “You could also be charged internally with improper use of police resources.”

  “What the fuck! I thought she was being raped and murdered,” bellowed Ellis launching himself to his feet. Several patrolmen turned to stare at him. Timms reached over and helped himself to Ellis’ half-eaten sandwich and cold coffee.

  “Relax. No-one here’s gonna press charges against one of their own,” he pulled a face as he tasted Ellis’ coffee and stirred three more sugars in.

  “What about Miss Stone?”

  “Depends whether she’s willing to pay out for a good lawyer,” He took a bite. “Oooh nice,” said Timms chewing appreciatively.

  Wadesky rubbed her tender back as she listened to Sashia run through the details of her sordid enterprise for the second time. Both women were bored and in need of a hot bath, Sashia’s leather apparel must have been chafing due to the amount of fidgeting going on.

  “I tell you once more and this is the last time ok,” said Sashia peevishly, pulling indiscreetly at her crotch. “I run very legitimate business. I have full year’s lease on property in Dayton Street.”

  “Your dungeon?” asked Wadesky without a hint of irony.

  “Yes,” snapped Sashia. “My dungeon. Which observes Health and Safety regulations.” At that Wadesky couldn’t suppress a snigger. “What? I am conscientious citizen who has business degree and pays taxes. I find niche in market place and exploit it. Women want to be kidnapped and have big strong Russian man dominate them and they pay for pleasure. No one gets hurt!” Both Wadesky and Sashia looked up as Eleanor slipped into the room.

  “This is Detective Inspector Eleanor Raven and she’s in charge of the investigation into the murder of Lydia Greystein,” said Wadesky.

  “That is nothing to do with me!” hissed Sashia.

  Eleanor appraised the woman sitting in front of her and found her intriguing. Her assured manner and blaring sexuality had a dangerous appeal to her. A thought that didn’t appear to be lost on Sashia whose lips curled cat-like as Eleanor took a seat opposite her.

  “Ask your questions,” purred Sashia.

  “I’ve got a dead woman tortured to death after her boyfriend bought her a ‘red letter’ kidnap day. You have been arrested carrying out an identical activity. I’m assuming you’re not going to deny that?”

  “Of course not! But did my lady complain about her treatment?” Sashia leaned towards Eleanor.

  “She complained mostly about the arresting officer,” responded Eleanor.

  “Exactly!” Sashia banged her hand on the desk. “There are no complaints from my customers.”

  “But this is the problem,” said Eleanor. “Lydia Greystein didn’t make any complaints because somebody killed her. Someone using your business card or one similar picked Lydia up and murdered her. Now convince me that it couldn’t have been you, Cheswell Barnes or your delightful cousin Feodor.”r />
  “Depo-Provera,” said Sashia smugly.

  “How do you know he’s taking it?” asked Eleanor

  “Because I inject him myself!” barked Sashia. “I control my employees!”

  “What is Depo…?” flailed Wadesky.

  “Depo-Provera aka medroxyprogesterone,” answered Eleanor.

  “Birth control?” said Wadesky confused.

  “Chemical castration for Feodor,” replied Eleanor.

  Sashia nodded and smiled, inhaling deeply on a cigarette. “Such a nice boy now. Very accommodating.”

  Laurence hovered around the doorway of the Bodyworks Gym observing the clientele for several minutes before entering. The atrium was decorated with large black and white photographs illustrating what the management considered the perfect human frame draped appropriately across various pieces of gym equipment. Unlike the station gym, which reeked of sweat, trainers and nicotine, this gym was bathed in flattering lights and perfumes. It was Laurence’s considered opinion that only gay guys and wealthy bitches frequented this sort of establishment probably because they were the only ones who could afford the monthly fees.