by Samson Weld
Nick grabbed Stanley’s legal pad and inspected his work. He knew his style, how he wrote figures down on paper to visualize the situation better. They’d been working together this way for three years.
“I’ve looked at the numbers every which way,” Stanley said. “And there’s no way I can recommend their funding to be renewed.”
“What are you talking about? This is a slam dunk, I’ve rarely seen a cleaner corporation. The debt is under control, revenues are stable with realistic growth projections.”
The tower man stood up. “Perhaps if you’d stayed in the office yesterday you would’ve seen what I’ve seen.”
He shot one last accusing glare at his colleague and walked out. Nick looked at the numbers on the page once again. He was annoyed at having played hooky recently, but most of all he felt bad at having let Stanley down.
On the other hand, what was more important right now, auditing a company or clearing his name of a murder he hadn’t committed? Someone had made a huge mistake and he needed to set the facts straight. Still, while he was here he decided that he should get some work done.
He tried to make sense of the numbers on the page and wondered how Stanley had come to the conclusion that Hozalex wasn’t tiptop. He was reaching for a laptop when Anne-Marie walked in.
“Good morning,” he said, feeling cheered up for the first time since last night.
She didn’t reply. She instinctively looked left and right to make sure they were alone. She sat down next to Nick and was about to say something when she noticed the damage on his face.
“What happened to your face?” she asked in horror.
“It’s a long story.”
“Is it the police?”
He shook his head. “No, nothing like that.”
“Then what happened?”
Once more, he narrated the mugging story. “I’m fine, really. What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming into the office today.”
“I was looking for you.”
“What is it?”
She grinned like someone with great news. “I just drove by the motel and the goons were gone. I went to a dep nearby—”
“What’s a dep?”
“Dépanneur, it’s a convenience store.”
“Okay,” he said, glad to add to his Montreal knowledge.
“The clerk told me that the cops came last night.”
“I think we already knew that,” he shot back, smiling like a wiseass.
“As it turns out, when they got there they saw that our goons had guns and so the only thing they did was arrest them. They never came close to the motel according to the clerk.”
“How does that interest us?”
“Apparently, these gang members are feeling the heat. Nobody from that crew went back to the motel since last night. They’ll probably stay away for a while until things cool down.”
Nick finally got her meaning. “So if we go back, it will be easier to get in. Nobody will block us.”
She wiggled her eyebrows as she felt like Nancy Drew making headway in her investigation.
Chapter 23
It was nerve-racking to walk into the motel again. It was fresh in Nick’s memory just how close to their objective they’d come last night before the police sirens had driven them away. They had been so close to discovering the secret Charlie had hinted at. Nick’s hands were moist at the prospect of finally learning something useful.
With Anne-Marie next to him, he approached the reception desk and found the same bored woman on duty. Her head was lost in a cloud of white smoke and she was reading the same gossip magazine as last night. She acknowledged their presence with a cursory glance.
“It’s me again,” Nick said, forcing a smile.
“Yes?”
He got closer, his goal to create intimacy, like she was part of this covert operation. However, instead of leaning forward toward him, she recoiled.
He said, “I must admit that I got scared last night when I heard the police cars. I left through the back door and didn’t get to sample the charms of the lovely Selena. I was hoping to get a second chance.”
He conspicuously pulled out a wad of cash.
“Selena not here Sunday.”
Shit. He glanced at Anne-Marie, his well-laid plan falling apart. But he had to persevere.
“Is there someone else that my wife and I would enjoy?”
The woman moved her magazine and looked at her notebook which was smeared with cigarette ash. Her finger went down the page. “Shana is free. Uh, not free, available.”
This was perfect. Shana had been the girl he’d been first offered.
“Sounds great, let’s do it.”
He paid a hundred and sixty dollars for an hour plus an additional forty dollars for use of the room. In exchange, the woman gave them a room number.
They took off toward the surprisingly wide staircase and climbed to the second floor. It was as dark as it had been the night before, but the place not being very busy this Sunday, many doors were open. As they walked down the hallway, they glanced inside the rooms.
Everywhere they saw teenage girls in skimpy lingerie sitting on their beds. Most were busy on their phones, either talking or texting. Anne-Marie was gaping at the sight.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “They’re all… children.”
Indeed. There was no way these girls were over eighteen. Nick felt sick to his stomach. He felt dirty.
“Come on,” he said, more confused than ever. “We’ll get some answers.”
At last, they reached room 208. They stood in the door frame—the door was open—and they gazed at Shana who was sitting on the bed, reclining against the headboard. She was short and thin and the lacy blue bra she was wearing seemed too big for her. Her blond hair was mussed and dirty.
She couldn’t have been older than fourteen.
She looked up at them. “Français? English?”
“English,” Nick replied, still in a daze.
“Come in,” she said, clicking her phone one last time before putting it on the nightstand. “Close the door.”
“Thank you.”
The guests complied, but Anne-Marie couldn’t get over the shock. Nick found the only chair in the room and brought it closer for her to sit on. He himself sat on the corner of the bed.
“I don’t kiss on the lips and it’s eighty extra for anal.”
Her English was very good, no trace of an accent. Nick wondered if she was a runaway from another province, or from the US. This would mean human trafficking, adding another revolting layer to this mystery.
He did his best to act normally though, opting to turn on the charm. “Actually, we were hoping we could just talk.”
“Is that what turns you on?” she asked in what was a suitable sultry tone.
“We have questions about what’s going on here.”
Shana frowned with suspicion. “You guys cops?”
“No, we’re not with the police and we just want to talk.”
Nick produced a fifty-dollar bill and placed it on the nightstand between a bottle of KY jelly and some condoms. She looked at the money, but didn’t touch it. It was like she was wary of what it entailed, as if sex was okay but talking was dangerous.
“All right,” she finally answered.
After a brief moment of hesitation, she took the money, gave it a hasty inspection, and put it in the drawer.
“What is this place?” Anne-Marie asked.
The young girl snorted. “Well, if you don’t know that, it means he doesn’t take you out much.”
“How old are you?”
She didn’t hesitate this time. “Eighteen.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “We’re not cops, remember?”
“I said eighteen.”
“And I gave you fifty bucks. No bullshit, okay?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fifteen next month. Are you really turned on now?”
“Is everyone your age around here?�
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“Mostly,” she replied with a shrug. “I mean, some are twelve, others seventeen, there are even a couple of girls in their twenties.”
Anne-Marie couldn’t hold back a gasp. “My God, you’re so young. How can people take advantage of you like that?”
“It’s good money. No one’s complaining and there’s never a shortage of clients.”
“That’s terrible,” Anne-Marie whispered. “We can help you escape.”
“Escape? You think I’m here against my will?”
“You’re not?”
“Like I said, it’s good money. And I’m not going back to the group home or my bitch mom.”
“But…”
“You wouldn’t believe some of the famous people I’ve fucked. When their wife isn’t doing it for them anymore, they come here. When you get down right to it, they all fantasize about banging their daughters.”
Anne-Marie shook her head in disgust and looked away. Nick didn’t like it any better—it was disconcerting to hear a child talk this way—but he had some questions that needed answering.
“Did you know Martine Nadon? She also used the name of Suzy.”
“Yeah, I knew her. She worked here once in a while.”
“Did she like it here?”
Shana opened her mouth before changing her mind. “I think I said enough. For fifty bucks, I mean.”
As fast as he could, Nick produced another fifty-dollar bill and slammed it on the nightstand. Just as quickly, the girl put it in the drawer.
“I don’t know if she loved it here, but everyone really loved her. She was a gold mine. Sure, she was older than most of us, but she had a lot of regular clients.”
“So no one ever treated her bad here?”
“Of course not,” Shana replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “If she hadn’t been so hot, I would’ve called her a cash cow. Guys were coming in and out of her room all day long.”
Nick could believe that. The reviews he had read about her had been extremely positive. That said, they weren’t getting anywhere.
“Who operates this place?”
“You mean you haven’t met Wilky and Makenson?” she shot back with a trace of humor.
Anne-Marie frowned. “It can’t be just these two.”
“We work for their gang, DB-75.”
A gang, great, Nick thought. It would be impossible to get information out of them. Money wouldn’t work. Besides, getting close enough would mean risking their lives. Losing their lives, probably. They had already killed Charlie.
“Have you ever thought of not working here anymore?” Anne-Marie asked. “Would you be able to leave if you wanted to?”
“Why would I want to do that? You want me to repeat myself again? The money’s good. Besides, none of the big agencies would hire me on account of my age.”
“You should be at home with your family!”
“You wouldn’t even want to be with my family. At least here I get paid for what I do.”
Nick put a hand on Anne-Marie’s knee to calm her down. Unlike him, she had never been exposed to the often troubled life of prostitutes. He knew from experience that it was best to stay out of it.
“Thank you, Shana,” he said, standing up.
“Yeah,” she answered, reaching for her phone again. “So, you sure you don’t want a blow job or something?”
Anne-Marie’s head snapped toward him, eager to hear the answer herself. He wasn’t sure if he should be amused or insulted that she doubted him.
Chapter 24
They left right away and hurried to her car. On the ride back to the Vu3 Hotel, Nick wanted to discuss what they had learned. However, Anne-Marie wasn’t in the mood.
“We should go to the police,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Not now, Anne-Marie.”
“But they’re exploiting kids! This is juvenile prostitution! It can’t go unpunished.”
“It won’t, I promise. But not now, not while they have me pegged for a murderer.”
She shook her head, trying to clear it and failing miserably.
“A few years ago, they had something like that over in Quebec City. There was this network of juvenile prostitution, the girls were all younger than seventeen.”
“It rings a bell,” he said, having heard echoes of that story on the discussion board.
“The police arrested dozens of people. They called it Operation Scorpion. The people they arrested were mostly street gang members, but it shook the entire province when they discovered that their clients were all big shots. I’m talking celebrities, politicians, important businessmen. This is just like that. We have to stop it.”
“We will, I have to settle the murder thing first. If we act now, the police will think I’m involved. It will be yet another brick hanging over my head. It will be something else that will make me look guilty. If I can prove my innocence first, then we can really be in a position to do something.”
That helped her settle down. “Okay, I guess.”
“Good. So what do we know?”
“Nick, how can you take this so lightly?”
Obviously, she wasn’t over it. “I’m not taking it lightly, I swear.”
Truth was, he was taking it lightly. The teenage girls hadn’t been tied down or locked up. They were getting paid and Shana sure seemed like she preferred this life to anything else she had experienced so far.
Who was he to create problems for her? He knew that juvenile prostitution was wrong and illegal, but there were more pressing matters, as awful as it sounded.
“Okay so we know that the girl I saw, the girl who was killed, wasn’t Suzy. The real girl was Martine Nadon and she had drug problems. She owed money to a street gang so they had her work it off at their agency. Shana said she was well-liked and a good earner for them.”
Anne-Marie nodded. “So even though they’re killers, they can’t be the ones who killed her.”
Jesus Christ, they were back to square one.
~ ~ ~ ~
The lobby was still quiet when they returned to the hotel. They headed straight for the front desk and Henri was there to welcome them. He smiled sheepishly at Nick.
“Hey, I’m back. Sorry I took such a long time. Can we go back to look at the security footage again?”
“This won’t work anymore,” the assistant manager announced.
“What do you mean?”
“I had a visitor while you were gone.”
“I hope so, this is a hotel. If you didn’t have any visitors you’d be in trouble.”
Nick grinned at his joke, but Henri didn’t even attempt to appear amused.
“The head of hotel security came to see me.”
“How can that be?” Nick asked, feeling as if his heart were to give out. “You told me he didn’t come in on Sundays.”
“The police contacted him. He doesn’t want me to take anyone in the security room anymore. My job is on the line, he said.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“You have to understand my position.”
“I thought we had a deal.”
He had already spent two hundred dollars on this and, bad form or not, he was about to ask for a refund. But how to do it without making a scene?
Henri spoke again, this time quieter. “This is why I shouldn’t tell you that the security guy has been called away for the rest of the day. He really should have made sure the security room was locked before leaving.”
He winked and Nick instantly brightened up.
He rounded the desk and Anne-Marie followed him. Henri remained at his post. They hurried along the corridor and went into the security office. Nick checked the player and the DVD was no longer there. It didn’t matter, he knew where to find it on the shelf, having observed Henri before.
He searched for a few seconds and quickly located the DVD. He slipped it into the machine and hit fast forward. They stood in silence while the surveillance video scrolled at a breakneck spee
d.
“Did you know that cranberry companies hire basketball players to test for ripeness?”
“Is this a new kind of pickup line?”
“I’m trying it out.”
Anne-Marie grunted. “And does it ever work on anyone?”
“It doesn’t make you feel a wave of passion?”
“It could if it was true. I very much doubt that they hire actual basketball players to dribble tiny red fruit.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I read too.”
He chuckled and then stopped the DVD at 9:57pm. He pressed Play and they both leaned forward to take in the details. A tall woman stepped into the hotel lobby and walked into the frame. She was elegantly dressed and walked in a distinguished fashion.
Nick recognized her from online pictures.
“That’s her! That’s the real Suzy. That’s Martine Nadon.”
She started to walk toward the elevator when a man went up to her. They shook hands and she smiled good-naturedly. His back was to the camera and his face never turned. She nodded and seconds later they both headed out of the hotel.
“It’s impossible to see who this man is,” Anne-Marie observed in frustration.
Nick rewound the video and they watched the scene all over again. This time, he hit a couple of buttons and the video played in slow motion. Just before Suzy and the man walked out, Nick hit Pause.
All the blood in his face drained away.
“Oh my God…”
“What is it?” she asked.
“I know who that man is.”
He leaned even more toward the screen and pointed at the man’s right wrist. He pointed at a huge, shiny gold watch.
She gasped in recognition. “Your partner Stanley?”
“He killed her. Stanley killed Suzy.”
Chapter 25
Appearing braver than he felt, Nick burst into the Hozalex Solutions conference room. He prayed that no one would see the sweat beading on his brow or hear his heart which was about to leap out of his chest. But there was only one person sitting at the long table.
Stanley had his sleeves rolled up as he was buried in paperwork, appearing like a college student cramming for exams. He looked up and smiled at his friend.