Gerri stepped out of her car into the humid California night, already well past eleven. The streetlights and neon from the bar across the street gave her an instant headache, made worse by the noisy, drunken lineup of scantily clad women and overdressed young men standing in line outside the black painted doors. Exotica’s entrance challenged convention, the quieter street on this side of the building helping it stand out from the small shops and boutiques closed for the day. Gerri glanced down the alley between the building and the next street, the flashing lights of another club glaring at her. Smart, in a way. The owners of this new place could have used the other street. But it was populated by hordes of other clubs. By twisting around and using this street’s entrance, they ensured they’d be the only lineup in sight.
Clever marketing, along with the deep red sign glowing in flowing script, the “I” capped with a swirling curly symbol that reminded her of something. She frowned at it, hands on her hips, when a pair of giggling women staggered toward her.
She was already prepped to send them on their way, assuming the two were drunk or stoned, and had missed the truly obvious line somehow. Until she realized she knew the pair of fools who came to a halt in front of her.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Gerri stared in shock at Kinsey and Ray. While both were attractive women, she rarely saw them in anything but a lab coat or black jacket for her doctor friend and jeans and a T-shirt for the anthropologist. Sure, she knew they cleaned up all right. Ray wore dresses like every single one of them were made just for her body type. Frustrated the hell out of Gerri, whose 5’11”, curvy frame and wide shoulders made shopping for anything feminine a bitch. But, clearly her two friends had somehow lost their minds.
And most of their clothes. Skirts that barely skimmed their private parts and tops cut so low Gerri was sure neither wore a bra. With their long hair—piled in curls on top of her head in Ray’s instance and spun into ringlets over one shoulder for Kinsey—and excessive makeup, the two looked nothing like themselves.
Dear God. Was that glitter?
Gerri choked on a laugh while Kinsey spun in her impossible shoes, the bend of her foot making the redhead’s own toes ache just from the sight. “We’re trying to blend in.” Kinsey smelled faintly of wine, blue eyes sparkling as she smiled.
“She’s just jealous.” Ray prodded Gerri in the chest with one finger. Damn it. They were drunk, both of them. Gerri sighed, rolled her eyes.
“I’m just working.” She tried to push past the two, but they held her back, clung to her. “After all, Ray, you did say the victim was here the night she died.” Gerri grimaced at the lineup. She really should just wait until the next morning to talk to the owner. But, somehow, she’d let the girls bully her into coming tonight.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“She was.” Ray leaned on her, serious though she swayed ever so slightly. “That’s why we’re here to back you up.”
Kinsey nodded with such enthusiasm her blonde curls bounced. “Recon,” she said.
Like the two of them were in any condition to be of use to her. Sober or not. “Thanks,” she said, trying to push through again. “I’ll take it from here.” Let the pair of them go have fun, dance, get drunk. She was here, she fulfilled her promise. But she had work to do.
Stick in the mud? Who, Gerri?
“You don’t blend in.” Ray frowned at her as her slim hands, surprisingly strong, held Gerri back. “They’ll see you coming a mile away looking like that.”
“Who’s they, Ray?” Gerri caught herself grinning at last.
“The murderers.” She whispered so loudly, Gerri was sure they heard her in the club over the pounding beat of the bass.
“Right.” Gerri rubbed her face with both hands. “Promise me the two of you won’t make fools of yourselves?”
They grinned, nodding in tandem. Holding each other up.
Gerri slipped around them, shaking her head. Whatever. She heard them follow her, slowed her pace just a bit to allow them to keep up on their stupid shoes. By the time she reached the front of the line and the giant, scowling bouncer, she was annoyed enough it only took his Neanderthal grunt and attempt to bully her with his towering size to trigger her need to push back.
She shoved her badge in his face with a tight grin. “All access pass,” she said.
He looked like he wanted to argue. Gerri glanced down the line of waiting customers, gauging the ages of the girls at somewhere south of twenty-one.
“Liquor commissioner on speed dial.” She grinned again. “I’m sure he’d be thrilled to come down here tonight and find the newest club in town is full of violations he can take to the bank.”
As if. There was enough money in this place the owner had likely greased the right palms and no amount of pushing from her would put him out of business unless she found some serious issues. Like murder. She’d be happy to oblige by offing this dick head bouncer if he didn’t get the hell out of her way in the next five seconds.
Four. Three. Two. One—
He backed down, tanned skin wrinkling over his heavy forehead, bristling black beard and buzz cut reminding her more of a bear than a man. When Kinsey and Ray tried to totter after her, he made a move.
His last move. Gerri snapped her fingers in his face, making him jump. And said the words she hoped she wouldn’t regret before the night was over.
“They’re with me.”
What did he see in her face? She had no idea, only that he suddenly looked away, backed down. Whatever it was, she wished she could figure it out, because damn, it could come in handy.
The door gaped open as she pulled on it, letting out a blast of humid air, cooled by AC but heavy with moisture, scented by too much perfume and booze. Gerri swallowed past the first hit of overstimulation, nose quivering, pushing her way through a short lineup to the main floor of the club. Party girls snarled at her but dodged out of her way as she forced herself a path, feeling the soft touch of Ray’s hand on her shoulder as her friends stayed close.
The music pounded in her head, intensifying the headache that started on the street. Gerri scowled at the gyrating bodies on the sunken dance floor, the black interior filled with mirrors throwing back multicolored lights, shining over the two women writhing in silver cages hanging from the ceiling. Poles bisected the center of another, raised stage area, where a group of dancers had taken up residence, using the stripper equipment with far more enthusiasm than was good for them in their condition.
Gerri’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, the flashing lights, traveled the length of the bar through the press of bodies lit by the bright, white glow coming from behind the lined up bottles on the wall. This was stupid. There was no way she would find anyone here. And if one more person bumped into her, she was going to hurt them.
Someone grabbed her arm, hard. Gerri spun, fury biting through her, only to find Kinsey staring, pointing up the steps that led to a thin balcony overlooking the dance floor.
“I know her!” She shouted in Gerri’s ear, just loud enough for her to hear. “Simone Paris.” Gerri studied the dark haired woman. Who? “She came to my office today. Hired me to look at some artifacts.”
“She’s with the owner of the club.” How Ray heard Kinsey in this racket Gerri had no idea. They all stared at the tall, lean man in the dark suit standing next to Simone. Even from here, Gerri had a bad feeling about him. Just the way he stood there, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other on the small of the woman’s back, made the hair stand up on the back of her neck.
Watch him.
The whisper wasn’t a surprise. Her gut was telling her he was trouble.
“That’s Julian Black.” Ray met her eyes, looking sober, finally. “I’ve seen him on the telly.”
“Weird coincidence,” Kinsey said, triggering Gerri’s gut again.
No such thing. As a cop, she didn’t believe in coincidence. And her instincts—the voice she knew always led her right where she needed to go—already told her the
re might be something here.
She could wait for tomorrow. But she was here, now. And she suddenly felt like chatting. No longer aware of the girls behind her, Gerri strode through the crowd, eyes locked on the handsome couple at the top of the steps, a hunter stalking prey.
***
INT. – EXOTICA NIGHTCLUB – NIGHT
Ray stumbled slightly as a cute boy with too much gel in his hair and a rhinestone stuck to the corner of his mascaraed lashes bumped into her and grinned, spilling his drink over her leg. Her buzz was already wearing off, the two glasses of wine she’d downed at Kinsey’s before coming to the club burning away under the pressure of the music and the smothering press of bodies. Suddenly, this trip didn’t seem like a very good idea.
Why did she like clubs again?
By the time she caught her balance, the girls were already moving away from her, Kinsey close on Gerri’s heels. Ray turned sideways to slip between a pair of partying boys, fending off their hands as she went. It would do no good to grow angry, to turn bitch on them. Instead, she hurried on, cursing the heels she chose to wear as Gerri and Kinsey disappeared into the crowd.
She fumbled forward toward the stairs, comforted she at least knew where they were heading. For a dizzy moment, Ray felt her stomach constrict at the thought of being alone here. She was a big girl, she had to remind herself, panic clutching tight to her insides. And it wasn’t like she was in any real danger. But the pats to her backside and the way one of the men she passed leaned in to smell her shook her confidence as nothing else ever had.
Not because they were touching her. But because the odd, freakish feeling she had, that drove her from the ER and surgery into the morgue, triggered over and over again.
She knew how they were going to die. All of them. Being surrounded like this made things worse. Ray loved clubs, but only when she was drunk enough she couldn’t read the demise of those around her. Clearly, she’d failed to imbibe enough wine to do the job. Instead, she was assaulted again and again by heart attacks, brain hemorrhages, cancer, car accidents. The odd suicide. Ray shuddered back from the touch of the crowd, did her best to close her mind off from what she felt, in the core of her being. What she knew.
They were all going to die. Maybe not today, or tomorrow. Some ten years from now, others decades in the future. And she knew how. But there wasn’t one blessed, bloody thing she could do about it.
It wasn’t until she almost fell, catching herself on a pillar by the edge of the dance floor, she managed to pull herself together. Honestly, Rachel Maria Hunter. What would Mummy say? The idea of her gold digging, British mother setting one foot in a place like this made Ray break out into near hysterical giggles. And broke the hold her odd little talent had over her. There were times she swore it was real. And other times she could pretend she’d imagined all of it.
This was one of the latter. Convincing herself she’d had too much to drink, that the wine was off, the humid air making her giddy, she pulled herself under control. Frustrated by her own ridiculous reaction, she stepped closer to the pillar and used it as a back stop to protect her from that direction at least. She’d wait here, keep her head down, until the girls were done. She had a clear view of the stairs from here, of Gerri already at the top, Kinsey joining her. Better to stay put and wait this out.
She was such a coward.
When the slim girl with the nose ring and blue hair ran into her, Ray’s first impulse was to push her away. Made worse when the odd feeling she had about her told her the moment of the young woman’s death. Not so far off, in a hospital room, with a tube up her nose. Ray flinched, but the girl was teetering, eyes rolling back into her head and, rather than repulsing her, the physician’s empathy that drove her to medicine surged to the fore.
“Are you all right?” Ray felt her sag against her, though she didn’t go down.
“…hurts…” was all she caught as the young woman’s blue painted lips twitched.
Ray’s desperate look around showed her the entrance to the washroom, only a few steps away. Having a task gave her courage, and the strength to drag the girl toward the door to the bathroom, shoving others out of the way in her haste to get her burden somewhere safe.
They stumbled together from the dark, strobe lit club into the brightness of the white tiled bathroom. The girl slipped on the floor, falling on her ass as a pair of giggling club girls pointed and stared on their way out. Ray glared, her anger chasing them off, before she crouched and bent over the fallen young woman.
Even if she hadn’t the talent she possessed, it was clear to her doctor’s trained eye something was terribly wrong. Ray reached for her phone, dialed 9-1-1 and ordered an ambulance as the blue haired girl sagged sideways, moaning softly. Ray hung up, catching her as she toppled, her eyes traveling down the girl’s neck to a pair of puncture wounds she’d seen before.
With her heart pounding in her chest, Ray dialed Gerri.
And hoped they wouldn’t have a second body on their hands before the night was out.
***
EXT. – EXOTICA NIGHTCLUB – NIGHT
Kinsey stood at the periphery of the crowd, out of the way of her two friends as they did their jobs while she did her best not to make a mess of things.
The street was full of milling, muttering divas and their dates, a veritable sea of tartly dressed and oversexed young people far too underage to be as drunk as they appeared to be. Kinsey hugged herself, chilled despite the warmth of the night. She felt icy cold crawl up her spine the moment she arrived at Gerri’s side at the top of the stairs, only to realize Ray was missing. If she hadn’t already been partially sober, that was enough to shake her the rest of the way out of her buzz and into guilt.
How had she just left the girls behind? She half turned, heading back down the steps to retrieve her British friend, when Gerri’s hand grasped her and held her in place. But her tall, red haired companion wasn’t looking at Kinsey. She was focused on the tall man leaning on the railing, with his black hair slicked from his high forehead, cold, gray eyes sweeping over Kinsey before locking into battle with Gerri.
It was too loud for her to make out much of what the detective asked the man Ray identified as Julian Black. Simone disappeared into the crowd before Kinsey could stop her, and she wondered if the woman even recognized her with her contacts in and actually done up for once. She fought briefly against Gerri’s strong grip, resenting how the redhead was treating her like a child, only to finally give in with a sigh. Maybe if she stopped acting like one…
The club owner leaned toward Gerri, thin lips parting, one hand glittering with a large diamond ring. The pattern drew Kinsey’s gaze, the formation of stones reminding her of the swirl over the “I” in Exotica. And, something else. Where had she seen it before?
Gerri’s phone rang, at least, Kinsey guessed as much. It was louder up here on the catwalk, deafening with four giant speakers hanging overhead, facing in and down toward the dance floor. Kinsey felt Gerri’s hand tighten on her wrist before she spun and, without a word or gesture of farewell to Julian, dragged Kinsey down the steps and toward the bathroom at the back of the bar.
Kinsey stood in shock, hands pressed to her chest, as Gerri bent over the prone form of a young woman with short, blue hair while Ray talked to her. Kinsey’s head felt blocked, her ears ringing from the noise, muffling everything. When the door slammed open and the paramedics rushed through, she held back, wishing she was anywhere but there. Tonight wasn’t working out the way she and Ray planned.
This was supposed to be a way to lure Gerri out, to force her to have a little fun for once. And though Ray really did find a stamp on the dead girl’s hand from this club, Ray was only using the fact as a lure. Kinsey was fairly certain her friend didn’t mean to stumble into anything that might mean real work.
It wasn’t until Kinsey made it out into the street, her head beginning to clear, she heard Gerri and Ray talking as she trailed after them.
“You’re sure they�
�re the same wounds as the girl this morning?” Gerri’s intensity made Kinsey nervous sometimes and she was glad it was aimed at Ray for once. The lights of the club had come on as she exited, cops herding everyone out into the night
“Positive.” All pro, that Ray. If she was uncomfortable with Gerri’s focus, she didn’t show it, hurrying along beside the young woman who moaned on the stretcher. Kinsey caught a glimpse of the two punctures on the girl’s neck before falling back, hearing the last of the conversation before Gerri and Ray retreated behind a police line.
“I hate to say it,” Ray said, “but this is connected, without a doubt.”
Kinsey shuffled to one side, avoiding a drunken couple who kissed with far too much passion for the open street, keeping a worried eye on her friends. Ray stood at the back of the ambulance, talking with the paramedics, while Gerri directed a small group of uniformed officers, pointing at the club then gesturing at the crowd. Probably starting a search of the place while questioning the young patrons. Gerri looked up once, caught Kinsey’s eye. She waved at the detective and backed off, to show she was leaving and Gerri didn’t have to worry about her. The redhead waved back and returned to her duty.
Why did that make Kinsey feel so useless? Because she was useless. She gritted her teeth against the hurt inside. Like Gerri would call her over, insist she help out with the investigation. Not a chance. Time for her to get her ass home and forget tonight’s disaster ever happened. Leave the police work to the cops.
To her friends.
If she had even a scrap of hesitation, a moment of doubt leaving was the right thing to do, the glare she caught from Jackson Pierce sealed the deal. Kinsey wasn’t wanted, that much was obvious.
Knowing it was childish and that her attitude didn’t give Gerri and Ray—or herself—an ounce of credit, Kinsey turned to head for the subway. She’d left her car at home, thinking Gerri would just give her a ride after the fact. The idea of taking the metro alone, dressed the way she was dressed, made her hesitate and almost turn back. Not that she was really afraid. She’d had enough martial arts training, thanks to Gerri, she could handle herself. And these heels would make formidable weapons if she really had to fight anyone off. But, the thought of being oogled, whistled at, tortured by the inevitable assholes sharing public transportation sent a groan through her.
Exotica (Episode Two: The Nightshade Cases) Page 3