by Terry Keys
Chapter 12
My head pounded, and I was sure my eyes were sunk deep into my head. De Luca, Lafitte, and I had stayed up all night scanning the net trying to get a bead on Stacy. We’d scoured every hookup site we could dig up. I even had Fingers working on some stuff back home. We’d managed to find the profile she’d used to lure poor Sam Wilson. She’s even been brazen enough to use her own goddamn picture. None of us had been to sleep. I didn’t plan on sleeping until I found Stacy and got Karen back.
“I’m sorry, guys. This all night shit ain’t my cup of tea. I’m too old for this shit. I could use a cup of coffee. How about you guys?” Lafitte said.
“You guys just soft down here,” De Luca said with a smile.
“Yeah well, soft or not I need some coffee. You guys want anything?”
“Why not? Biggest cup they have, two creams, two sugars,” I said.
“And you, Superwoman?”
“Get me whatever you get girly-man.”
Lafitte left to make the coffee run. I wanted food, too, but first things first.
I logged into my email. Fingers had sent me everything he could find out about Stacy.
“Let’s see what we got here. So, Stacy grows up in New Orleans. Spends some time living with her grandmother, uncle, and in multiple foster homes.”
“Yeah, and somewhere along the way somebody took advantage of her, and I’m willing to bet it happened more than once,” De Luca said.
“Nothing’s in her file, but I would have to agree. We know this girl is damage goods.”
De Luca pulled a chair next to mine and browsed through the files with me. We gave each other a hard time, but I was glad she’d come with me to work on this case.
“So what’s the deal on this sister? We know anything about her?” she said.
“No. I’m texting Fingers now. I need him to dig deeper.”
We made it all the way through Stacy’s file. Not a darn thing. Nothing that seemed too useful right off the bat, anyway. Our best piece of intel was the fact that she had a sister – we didn’t even have a name. Now if we could only find her. And even if we did, would she be of any use?
Lafitte kicked the door open, hands full with three coffees.
“Thanks for the hand, guys.”
“Do you ever stop moaning and bitching?” De Luca said with a grin on her face.
“Just come get your coffee, pretty lady. You know, you’re lucky I’m sweet on you.”
I took my coffee from Lafitte, and De Luca and I made a second pass through Stacy’s file. We had to have missed something.
“David, come take a look at this,” Lafitte said, motioning me over to his computer.
“Well I’ll be. Didn’t take her long at all, did it? Morgan City man found cut up in his own home. Jon Rogers. No witnesses. No one heard a thing.”
“You were right about her heading east. Looks like she might be headed for New Orleans after all, David,” Lafitte said.
“Guess we’re headed to Morgan City?” De Luca said.
“No, not yet,” I said.
I wanted to spend a few hours sifting through the evidence that had been uploaded from the Houston killing a few days earlier. Before things got too stale, I needed to dig as deep as I could.
“Before we pack up, let’s spend some time going over the John Blake murder.”
“You looking for anything specific, David? I mean, I’m sure the boys back in Houston are working on it, aren’t they?” De Luca said.”
“Yes, but they don’t know everything we know. I’m just looking for a break here any way I can get it.”
She gave me her maybe-you’re-right look and said nothing else. We all sat down in front of our laptops and read through the details of the Blake murder.
“You guys notice anything out of the norm here? I’m not seeing a thing.” I said, leaning back in my chair.
“Me either,” Lafitte said.
“John Blake has no criminal background, so why was he targeted? Seemingly no enemies, something isn’t adding up.”
“Well, he was a powerful guy. Maybe he did something to someone and it was covered up?” De Luca said.
“Maybe. You could be onto something there.”
“Makes sense. Guy had enough money to buy anything he wanted,” Lafitte said.
I looked through the pictures again, and all at once it hit me like a ton of bricks.
“Picture forty-eight—the last pic taken. Look at it.” I waited for them to catch up.
“Okay . . . now what are we looking for?” Lafitte said.
“BF. Recognize those initials?”
“No, should we?” De Luca said.
“Brittany Foy—Stacy’s sister. It’s a long shot, but it isn’t that far-fetched. Think about it. Both of these girls bounced from home to home. They’re only fourteen months apart. It’s a safe bet that whoever molested Stacy did it to Brittany, too. No way he’d get one and not the other.”
“Goddamn, David! You may be on to something,” Lafitte said.
“I think you may be right. I’m with you too,” De Luca said.
“Let’s keep searching this case, at least another hour or so. Look for anything else we overlooked,” I said.
I didn’t want to bring anyone else in on this, at least not yet. And I certainly didn’t want to let the girls know we were on to them—if indeed we were.
“We need to pull up everything we can on John Blake. We know he was into strip clubs. We need to find out which ones he frequented the most. I’m betting Heartbreakers is going to be on the top of that list. I’ll call Cap and have him get someone on it. The more we find out about Blake, the closer we get to Brittany Foy.”
Chapter 13
“Carl Blake, come on! Do something fucking exciting, would you? You’ve got to be the most boring guy ever,” Brittany mumbled.
She’d hoped to gather information fast enough to be finished with this job in two days—three days max. Her biggest obstacle seemed to be getting him alone. Her first day of following him had been pretty uneventful. He left the house at six thirty a.m. and made a thirty-five-minute commute to work. He left for lunch at eleven forty-five with a group of coworkers. Returned at two minutes to one. Left for the day at six forty-five and made it home by seven thirty. Not a shred of excitement in this guy’s life.
Eight. Eight thirty. Nine. Nine thirty. Nothing. Brittany was bored and started playing a game on her phone.
Another twenty minutes went by. “Okay . . . what do we have here?” Brittany said, looking up from her phone.
She watched as Carl stepped out front to take a phone call. Could be nothing but it could be big. She watched as he moved about and noticed how he looked over his shoulder every few seconds.
“Who are you talking to, Carl?” she whispered. She had to admit that, in another life, she could see herself with a guy like him. He was well-dressed and ruggedly handsome. After several minutes of passionate discussion, Carl raced back into the house and slammed the door.
Less than five minutes later, Carl’s car sped down the driveway. She finally had the break she needed. Where was he going in such a hurry so late at night?
She started her car but made certain her lights were off for now. She followed as he drove like a madman across town, ignoring stop signs and running red lights all the way. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at Cabo, a bar in Kemah
“Who are you meeting at a fucking bar at ten p.m. while your wife is at home with your kids, Mr. Blake?”
Much to her surprise, Carl stayed in his car. Three minutes later, out came a twenty-something blonde—tall, super skinny, very pretty. Carl got out of his car, and Brittany watched as the two had an intense make-out session against the passenger-side door. The microphone she’d placed in his car wouldn’t pick up much more than a mumble unless they got in. Must be her lucky night. The two finally got into Carl’s Lexus, and the pair began talking.
“I came as quickly as I could. You know this is diffic
ult for me, and you know how hard it is for me to get away so late.”
“I know; I’m sorry. You know how I get when I drink, but I needed to see you, baby. And what do you care about her anyway? You told me you were going to leave her soon.”
“Yeah, well, that’s easier said than done. She is the mother of my kids, and I have a lot of assets, business. There’s a lot to think about before I make my move. You understand that, don’t you?”
“I guess. I just want you now. I don’t want to wait any longer. We’ve been doing this, whatever this is, for over a year now. My friends all say I’m stupid and that you’ll never leave her.”
“Fuck your friends. I am going to leave her. Sorry if that sounded mean. I don’t dislike your friends, but this thing is going to take some time, okay?”
“Okay, but not too much more time, you hear me?”
“I hear you. Now bring that sexy little body over here.”
What a fucking pig, this guy. No better than his piece-of-shit brother. Stacy was right.
“Okay, I gotta run. Cindy is going out of town this weekend, remember?”
“Yes. Are you going to spend some time with me?”
“Yes. I’ll call you tomorrow. She flies out first thing in the morning. I have some business to take care of then we can hook up. Sound good to you?”
“Deal. I’m gonna make you forget all about that wife of yours!”
“Okay, baby. Now get back in there with your friends. I gotta run.”
“Gotcha, you bastard. So tomorrow it’ll just be you, huh?” Brittany muttered. She watched as the girl got out of his car and stood there as he drove off into the night.
“Hey you!” Brittany said to the woman, who looked around the parking lot trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. “Yeah, you!”
“Me? Do I know you?” the young woman said as Brittany drove up beside her and rolled down the window.
“I’m new to the area. I’m looking for a good spot to hang out and make some friends. This place any good?”
“Yeah, it’s okay. Good dancing, two floors of music, and usually a live band, too. My friends and I like it.”
“Friends?” Brittany said, looking around.
“Oh they’re inside waiting on me, so I gotta run. It was nice meeting you.”
“Oh, okay. I thought I saw you making out with some guy a few minutes ago. That your boyfriend? Got a night out on your own, huh?”
“Yeah, something like that. What did you say your name was again?”
“I didn’t. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
With that, Brittany left the woman standing there and sped off into the darkness.
Chapter 14
All of my intel told me John Blake’s younger brother Carl was his right-hand man. If anyone knew why John was killed, it’d probably be him.
“Let’s get all of this mess cleaned up and head to Morgan City before the trail goes cold. It’ll take us about an hour to get there, so let’s get a move on,” I said.
“What about Brittany and that case?” De Luca said.
“I’ll make a call on that while we drive. If anybody can give us some direction, it’s going to be John’s brother Carl. He handled most of his day-to-day activities. To be honest, I don’t believe he’s going to give me anything useful, but I need to scratch his name off my list.”
We spent the next ten minutes gathering up our equipment and loading it into my truck. I planned on calling Carl Blake and putting him on speakerphone so the three of us could break down his answers after the call. We had been working pretty well together; I liked that.
“So, what exactly do you have planned for Carl?” De Luca asked.
“I don’t know, exactly. I guess I’m gonna wing it. I do have an idea, but I’m willing to bet his answers dictate my questions.”
I made the call, and we sat in silence waiting for him to pick up.
“Hello? Who is this?” Carl Blake answered his phone, clearly agitated.
“Carl Blake? Detective David Porter, Houston PD. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
“Not really, Detective. I’m headed to a meeting. You got about five minutes. What is this about, anyway?”
“I’ll be brief. First off, I’d like to offer my condolences to you and your family. I’m told you and your brother were close. I’m investigating his murder. Do you know anyone who wanted to hurt your brother?”
“I appreciate the concern, Detective, but let’s be honest; you guys never catch the bad guys. What percentage of the murders do you really solve here in Houston?”
This guy had some nerve. Here I am trying to help find the person who killed his brother, and all I’m getting is flack.
“I’ll ask the questions here, Mr. Blake. But just for the record, I actually have a pretty damn good solve rate for the cases I’m involved with. Again, do you know anyone who would want to hurt your brother?”
“No. My brother was a good man. He always looked after me, and he loved his family.”
“Intel informs me that your brother used to frequent strip clubs. Seems he had an affinity for the nightlife. You know anything about that?”
“Hey, what guy doesn’t like to see a little flesh from time to time? No reason to kill a guy.”
“Not implying that’s a reason, Mr. Blake. Just verifying my intel. Your brother a gambler? He owe somebody money?”
“No and no. We almost done here?”
“Yes, just a few more questions. Being his right-hand man, you must know how his wife felt about his need to . . . how’d you put it? See a little flesh? Other than her own, of course.”
“I don’t know. She isn’t my wife. Is this really going to help you find my brother’s killer?”
“It might. Could help me rule out or identify a motive. Your brother have you on his insurance policy? How about his business; it all turned over to you now?”
“Are you suggesting—”
“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m simply doing my job. Someone butchered your brother. If you guys were as close as I’m told you were, you’d think finding his killer would be a top priority for you. Unless, of course . . .”
“I didn’t kill my brother. I don’t know who did or why they’d want to. My brother’s business is one hundred percent mine now, yes. I’d give it all back and then some to have my brother back. Fuck you for suggesting otherwise, Detective. So the man liked to go to Heartbreakers—so fucking what. Big fucking deal. That’s not a reason to have a man killed. Sounds like you need a lap dance yourself. Have a nice day.”
Blake disconnected the call, I stared at my phone for a second.
“Well, Porter, that went well,” Lafitte said, laughing.
“Yeah, some go better than others,” I said.
“I’m learning, Porter. Call the family, piss them off, get absolutely no leads, and then they hang up on you?” De Luca said.
“I beg to differ; I got plenty. Unless the brother and wife are having an affair, both can probably be ruled out. The wife didn’t get the business, and the brother seems legitimately pissed off about his brother’s murder. John did frequent strip clubs, so we validated that. We also know he doesn’t owe any bookies money. So we learned quite a bit.”
“And you believe everything that little jerk was spewing?” De Luca said.
“I’ve learned, for the most part, to remove the emotion from a suspect’s questioning and dig out the root of their answers. Carl loved his brother. I’d even say he adored him. He does sound like an entitled little brat, but it doesn’t make him a killer. He’d have no reason to leave behind the BF calling card. I wasn’t trying to suggest Carl did it; I was trying to make him believe I was. I got him riled up, and he gave me the most important piece of evidence yet. There are about one hundred gentlemen’s clubs in Houston; however, we now know the one John Blake frequented. That’s where we go next. Maybe Brittany was a dancer there. Maybe Blake was one of her regulars. Maybe somebody can tell us where she liv
es or what she drives.”
“Guess you get the last laugh, David,” Lafitte said.
“I’ll laugh when I have Karen at home and Stacy and Brittany behind bars.”
Chapter 15
“Hey, baby, guess what?”
“What do you want, Carl? That wife of yours gone yet?”
“Actually, she is. I have to meet a few clients for dinner and then I’m free. Maybe I’ll take you out to that spot you like so much—Cabo, right? I’ll hang out with you and your girlfriends. We can do some dancing.”
“I’d like that. I think they’re going to love you once they get to know you like I do.”
“I’ll call you around ten after I am done. See you soon.”
Brittany watched through the window as Carl got dressed. Little did he know, his time had run out. She grabbed her purse and headed for his doorstep. She pressed the doorbell and waited.
“Hello. You the new nanny?” Carl said to the woman on his porch. “My wife isn’t here. Can you come back next week?”
“No, silly. You see a girl and you assume she’s your nanny?”
“I didn’t mean to offend you. My wife mentioned that the new nanny might be stopping by. Can I help you with something? I’m kind of in a rush here.”
“No need to rush, Carl. We got all night. Your clients and girlfriend are going to be waiting a long time.”
She did one last glance back and forth to make sure no one was watching. Brittany had her Taser in hand and knew how to use it. She hit him with the taser and he dropped helplessly to the ground. After he stopped convulsing and lay limp, she injected him with a sedative. It wouldn’t put him out but it would make him easily manageable. She removed two pairs of handcuffs from her bag and secured his wrists and legs. She looked around again to be sure she hadn’t been seen and drug him into the house and closed the door behind her.
After about five minutes passed, Carl started to come to. Brittany could see Carl trying to process everything and figure out what happened. His eyes opened and closed slowly. A little foam had built up in the corner of his mouth.