Durable Goods

by Patricia Hale

  “What the hell is Bon Sejour?” John asked.

  “It’s a restaurant in Edmundston. The name means pleasant journey. It’s the kind of place you go for a special night out like an anniversary or birthday. Not your everyday lunch spot.”

  “Well, it’s our lunch spot today.” John looked at Griff and me.

  “Good,” I said biting into my second croissant. “I’m starving.”

  At 11:30 the maître d’ at Bon Sejour seated us at a corner table in the elegant dining room. The lighting was dim despite elaborate chandeliers overhead. He lit the candle at the center of our table after handing us black leather menus.

  “Something to drink?”

  “Ice tea all the way around,” John said without giving us the opportunity to get something stronger, which I’d definitely planned on. I was worried that Bon Sejour was a side job for Lucas or even Myles, and the thought of running into one of them had me salivating for a shot of Oban.

  I ordered Escargot. Griff and John went for steaks and since I’m not much for red meat, I refused to exchange a snail for beef, not even one. Too many bagels had made me as food aggressive as a stray dog.

  There was a minimal crew on in the middle of the day and the restaurant was less than half full. A three-martini lunch crowd in business suites and a few well-to-do, seventyish women dined alongside us. The cronies’ perfume defeated any hope of enjoying the savory aromas floating from the kitchen. Griff and John surveyed the room. “I’m not getting much of a vibe about this place,” Griff said. “You think this was also code for somewhere else? I can’t see Clive spending time here.”

  “No, but maybe Lucas,” John said. He looked at me. “Would Lucas fit in here?”

  I thought of him standing in Isaac’s front hall in his black leather jacket. He had European good looks and a Frenchman’s charm. I nodded. “Definitely.”

  “But the patrons don’t look like they’d do business with Clive or Isaac.

  “I think Lucas is a few rungs up the ladder,” John said. “And his clients are above that.”

  “That’s why Clive needs a deal he can’t say no to,” John said. “We have to get to Lucas. Hopefully Madame Renault will see it that way too.”

  Madame Renault’s office was as productive as the Grand Falls PD. “These Canadians like to work,” I said to John as we followed her secretary into a high ceilinged, oak trimmed office.

  Madame Renault looked up from her desk where she was dwarfed by stacks of vanilla colored files. Chief LeBlanc crossed the room first, his hand extended.

  “Chief, nice to see you.” Madame Renault came around her desk and shook the Chief’s hand.

  “This is Detective John Stark,” he said turning her attention to us. “And this is Griff Cole and Britt Callahan, PIs helping with the case.”

  “A sex trafficking case, correct?”

  “Seems to be turning into that,” John said. “I was looking for my daughter in Maine. She’s been missing for some time. That led us here, to Clive Tuton. From what we have so far, he’s buying and selling young girls.”

  “And he’s not talking.” Madame Renault said.

  “That’s why we’re here.” Chief LeBlanc folded his arms over his chest. “My IT specialist has come up with some information that could be valuable, but we need Clive to decipher it. We’d like to offer him a deal if he’ll name his middleman. If we can find him, he’ll take us to the top.”

  “I don’t want to give this guy anything less than he has coming, believe me,” John interrupted. “But at this point, I think it’s our only shot at making headway.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “I don’t know much about Canadian law. I’ll defer to you,” John said. “Trafficking in Canada is huge. Unfortunately, we have not scored well according to The Future Group’s report in our attempts to confront the problem, but we are addressing it. The minimum sentence for trafficking is five years. The maximum can go up to twenty. It has a lot to do with the ages of the victims. Prostitution by willing adults is a different matter. How old are the women in question?”

  Griff and John looked at me.”

  “I was sold to Clive Tuton,” I said stepping forward. “I’m thirty-three, but he thought I was ten years younger. Most of the girls I saw were over eighteen, but not all. John’s daughter, is eighteen now, but was fifteen when she went missing.”

  Madame Renault nodded. “I can offer him seven years if he gives you what you want. Otherwise, tell Tuton that I’ll recommend the longest the judge will allow.”

  As we turned to leave, the Crown Prosecutor touched my arm. “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. Chief LeBlanc filled me in on the work you’ve done. You’re a brave woman.”

  There it was again, someone mistaking me for a person with guts. I wanted to point out that I was here and Kira was still there. So what did that say?

  Back at the station Detective Carver accompanied John into the interrogation room. John took a seat across from Clive while Carver hung back, leaning against the wall. Griff and I watched from the other side of the glass.

  “I’m not doing seven years,” Clive said. “Are you crazy?”

  “We have you. We have the girls that you had at your house. We have your computer. And as promised by the Chief Crown Prosecutor you’ll do a lot more than seven years if you keep your mouth shut.”

  “The girls will not speak against me. They liked their work. I did nothing to them. They were legal age.”

  “Not all of them.”

  Clive shrugged. “You don’t know that.”

  “I’m going in,” I said to Griff.

  “No you’re not. It didn’t work the last time. It won’t work this time.”

  “I can do it this time. I’m practicing temporary denial,” I said quoting him.

  “Britt, don’t do it to yourself. John can handle it.”

  “If I tell him who I am, he’ll know John has him.”

  I stepped into the hallway drawing in and releasing a breath as deeply as I could, the way a meditation instructor once showed me. ‘It introduces calm into the body,’ she’d said. Calm was a new concept for my body. I tried it again. Elusive. I gave up, opened the door to the interrogation room and stepped inside.

  Carver wrapped his hand around my elbow, holding me back.

  John looked at me, grimaced and then nodded to Carver.

  Willing my voice not to shake, I approached the table. “Hello Clive, my name is Britt Callahan. I’m a PI working with the Portland, Maine Criminal Investigation Unit.”.

  A compilation of shock, surprise and fear overtook his smug grin. The adrenalin started in my chest and made its way to my head, flushing my cheeks and making my neck tingle. I had the upper hand. He was the loser here, not me.

  “I understand you’ve been offered a deal. I think it would be wise of you to take it,” I said. “If you don’t,” I put my palms on the table and leaned toward him. “If you don’t, I will bring to light every tiny detail, every word spoken, every minute of the time I spent in your basement and with my testimony, I will bury you as far into the prison system as is humanly possible.” I turned and walked back to the door, opened it and stepped into the hallway.

  “Nicely done, partner,” Griff said coming up to me with a grin.

  I held out my hand. “Not even a tremor.” For the first time in weeks I almost felt like myself.

  The door behind us opened and we both turned to John and Carver coming out of the interrogation room. John looked at me and smiled. “We got it. Well, you did. He knew we had him. Seven years suddenly sounded good.”

  “So what’d he say?” Griff asked.

  “It’s the restaurant. It’s a front. Well, let’s put it this way. Food is sold in front. Girls are sold out back. It’s where we hook up with Lucas.”

  “How do we do that?” Griff asked.

  “There should be a white card in with Clive’s stuff. Cops must have whatever was in his wallet when they brought h
im in.”

  “I’ll bring it to LeBlanc’s office,” Detective Carver said taking off down the hallway.

  “The white card is the ticket in,” John said. “When it’s presented at the restaurant, it gets you in as a bidder on the girls.”

  “The girls are at the restaurant?”

  “Not there, but not far. The card gets you out back where you bid on girls via computer image. If you’re the high bidder then you make arrangements to pick the girl up at a location they arrange.”

  “Does he know if Kira’s one of these girls?” Griff asked.

  John nodded. “It’s where Lucas said he was taking her. He gets a cut of what the girls make. It’s big money according to dipshit in there.” John nodded to the interrogation room where Clive was waiting to be taken back to his cell.

  “So now what?” Griff asked.

  “I’ll go talk with LeBlanc,” John said. “It’s his party. Let’s hope we’re on the guest list,”

  “I’m making the bid?” Griff asked as we walked into LeBlanc’s office.

  “When Kira sees you, she’ll know she’s safe,” LeBlanc said and my men are better used at Bon Sejour. That’s where the action will be. I’ll have Detective Carver and a detail follow you to the pick-up location. As soon as you have her we’ll take down the restaurant.”

  “Go get some clothes.” John handed Griff a credit card. “It’s the department’s so don’t have too much fun, but you need to look like the sky’s the limit, ‘cause it will be. I’m this close. I’m not losing her again. Do your shopping and meet me back here. I’m going to hammer out the details with LeBlanc. His guys will run the show when it comes to breaking open the restaurant and making arrests, the three of us will focus on Kira.”

  Edmundston was the closest place to find a men’s clothing store that didn’t advertise Carhart as their primary line. The tri-fold directory just inside the mall’s entrance told us that Brooks Brothers was located right beside Sam’s Smoke Shop.

  “Now that’s fate. I haven’t had a Honey Berry in weeks.”

  “So what’s a few more?” Griff asked.

  “Oh no, this is an omen. You go to Brooks Brothers to change your persona while I go to Sam’s and indulge mine.”

  We located the stores and I slipped into the smoke shop with the promise of meeting Griff, ASAP. He rolled his eyes and left me at the door. There was no smoking in the mall so I pocketed my purchase, smiling with the anticipation of a kid on Christmas Eve.

  Griff was standing in front of a mannequin in the suit department. I came up beside him and checked out the ensemble in front of us. Charcoal gray suit, pale pink shirt, the tie held various shades of gray with a pink splash, a matching ascot in the pocket.

  “What do you think?” He asked.

  “Nice. Says money, but quietly.”

  “Can I help you?” A salesman asked slipping up beside us.

  “I’ll take that,” Griff said to him.

  With some tape measuring magic the sales clerk had everything wrapped and ready to go within fifteen minutes.

  “Men are so easy,” I said lingering next to John’s Suburban, savoring the Honey Berry I’d lit the moment we stepped outside. “It would have taken me at least two hours to figure out the look I’d need if I was going in there tonight.”

  “That’s why you’re not,” Griff said. “Put that thing out. We’ve got to go.”

  I ignored his request and took another drag, filling my mouth with the sweet taste of blackberries. “That’s not the reason I’m not going in.”

  “I know,” he said. Then recognizing my insecurity, added. “It’s got nothing to do with competence. If Myles or Lucas saw you it would blow the whole thing.”

  “So you know it’s not ‘cause I couldn’t do it.”

  He cocked his head. “Callahan, after what you’ve done I’d put my money on you every time.” He put his finger under my chin, tipped my face to his and kissed me. “Jesus, throw that thing out, will you?”

  Satisfied, I ground the cigar underfoot and opened the car door.

  It was seven o’clock when we walked into the Chief’s office. He and John were bent over the desk.

  “Get everything you needed?” John asked glancing up.

  “I’ll be King of the Prom,” Griff said raising the suit bag he held in his hand.

  “Go get dressed. We’ll have you wired and there by nine.”

  “You driving?”

  “Got you a rental, Mercedes Sport.”

  Griff let out a whistle, “Like your style.”

  “You gotta look the part. According to Clive these are the big spenders.”

  Griff left the room to change and I stepped up beside John to see what the two men were studying. A blueprint for Bon Sejour lay across the desk. The main dining area was easy to see as was the bar, but extending from the back of the kitchen was a long hallway with a number of small rooms off each side.

  “Looks like this is where the deals are made.” LeBlanc tapped his index finger on the map. “There’s a back door at the end of this hall leading outside so nobody retraces their steps. You make your bid and leave out the back. Happily if you’re the high bidder.”

  “He’s gonna have to be tonight,” John added.

  The door opened and Griff stepped in.

  “Good choice,” John said eyeing him up and down. “You’ll have their attention.”

  “Are you implying that I look hot?”

  John gave him a half smile. “Closest you’ll ever get. Now take your shirt off.”

  “No dinner first?” Griff asked.

  LeBlanc picked up his desk phone. “We’re ready,” he said.

  Not a minute later a man came into the office holding the gear that would connect Griff to John and me waiting in a car outside. If all went well, Griff would be the high bidder on Kira and John and I would follow him along with Detective Carver and a couple of uniforms to the designated pick up spot. Once Griff had Kira safely in hand, it would be a shit show at Bon Sejour as cops descended on the restaurant and a horror for Lucas or whoever the middleman was that brought Kira. If things didn’t go as hoped, at least they could bust the restaurant and hopefully we’d get a lead on Kira’s whereabouts. The wire ran through the seam of Griff’s shirt and ended in a tiny microphone clipped inside the ascot. That way, Griff could still open his shirt on the off chance that someone checked and he’d be clean.

  “Put this in your wallet,” LeBlanc said handing him an all white piece of plastic, the size of a driver’s license.

  “What the hell’s this?” Griff asked turning the card over in his hand.

  “Your ticket in.”

  “There’s nothing on it.”

  “Encrypted, I assume. Tuton said to hand it to the maître d’ as soon as you go in the door. He’ll seat you at the bar. They’ll come for you when the bidding starts. My guess is that you’ll go into one of those small rooms. There’re six of them. Six men bidding at the same time, but you won’t see each other.”

  “We’ll be listening outside,” John said. “You need to tell us what’s happening, but there may be someone in the room with you. If you don’t see Kira, tell them you don’t see anything interesting. That’s our queue. We’ll bring the house down. If you do see her, say you like the blonde. No one else will do. Callahan and I will be waiting outside to escort you to the pick-up. It’s off-sight. We’ll have plenty of back up. As soon as Lucas brings Kira out, the Canadian force will be on him like flies on shit.”

  “Appropriate description,” I said.

  John tossed Griff the keys to the rented Mercedes.

  Griff fisted the keys in one hand and laid the other on John’s shoulder. “We’re gonna get her,” he said.

  We watched Griff enter the restaurant from a darkened alleyway across the street. Bon Sejour was surrounded on four sides by unmarked police cruisers. Whether or not we got Kira, this was going to be a huge bust. The door closed behind Griff and my stomach dropped.
/>   I was starting to wonder if the wire was working when I heard a voice. “This way Monsieur.”

  Scuffling, then, “Something to drink?”

  “Glenlivet rocks,” Griff said.

  We sat in silence listening to the tinkling of ice cubes and glasses. Some pleasantries were exchanged as someone took a seat beside Griff. I was getting antsy waiting. My palms were sweaty and I rubbed them down my thighs drying them against my jeans.

  “Anxious?” John asked.

  I nodded.

  “Last time I saw Kira, she was fifteen.” He looked down at the steering wheel and ran his palm around it. “Alexis had been dead two weeks. Kira screamed at me that it was my fault her mother died. Said she hated me. Said I hadn’t taken good enough care of her mom. Kira thought she should have had a nurse or been in a hospital somewhere, but Alexis and I had talked about it. She wanted to die with me, in her own house, in her own bed. But it cost me my daughter. Neither one of us saw that coming. But you know?” He turned to look at me. “I don’t think we would have changed a thing. Just maybe tried to explain it to Kira better than we did so she would have understood. We thought we were protecting her.”

  I laid my hand on John’s arm. “She doesn’t feel that way anymore. She wants to get home to you as much as you want her back.”

  A voice cut into our conversation. “This way, sir.”

  My adrenalin spiked and I leaned forward straining to hear every detail. It sucked not seeing what was happening. A door opened, scuffling, then closed.

  “Have a seat.” It was the same voice.

  “He must be in one of the rooms,” John said his strained posture matching my own.

  “No, not that one,” Griff said.

  John and I looked at each other. Griff was viewing the girls.

  “No,” Griff said again.

  “A man who knows what he wants,” the voice said and gave a soft laugh. “That can make things easier, but more often harder. Sometimes you should just take whatever’s offered.”

  “I didn’t come here for conversation,” Griff said. “Show me another.”

  John nodded. “Good,” he said more to himself than to me.

  “Yes,” Griff said. “That one. I like the blonde.”