Women of the Mean Streets: Lesbian Noir

by Greg Herren

  I set the photo on the far inside corner of the table and focused on the rest of the paperwork. I passed over the standard court notice and the warrant for failure to appear. I’d need them when I turned her in, but they wouldn’t tell me anything about where to find her. The only other paper in the file was the multipage form Diamond and the surety had signed to spring her in the first place. Hardin’s big bold handwriting in the middle of the typewritten form jumped off the page. The bond amount: five hundred thousand dollars. Next to Diamond’s flowing signature at the bottom, someone had scrawled her last known address. I flicked a glance at the name of the surety, curious about who had a half a million in collateral to spare. I sucked in a breath. Yuri Pretov.

  A plate clattered onto the table. “Now I remember where I’ve seen that woman,” Maggie declared. I already knew what she was going to say. I didn’t remember seeing Diamond’s picture or hearing her name, but like everyone else in Dallas, I’d read about the infamous murder of Pretov’s rival, Leo Kaminsky, and the arrest of Pretov’s woman while she was still standing over his body with a freshly fired gun in her hand. Maggie reached for the photo again, and I smacked her away. She slid into the booth across from me and shoved the plate toward me. “Eat.”

  I tore rough bites, barely chewing. I needed the sustenance, but I wanted to go home. Fire up the computer. Fill in the blanks about Diamond Collier. Figure out why her man cared more about the fee he’d paid Hardin than the woman who’d murdered for him.

  *

  I waited impatiently for the laptop to fire up, mentally adding a new computer to the long list of things I’d buy when I collected on Diamond. Food and beer topped the list. Except for a couple of bottles of long neglected condiments, my refrigerator appropriately reflected my bank balance—empty. I hadn’t worked in over a month, and my funds had run out a couple of weeks ago. Thank you, state of Texas. I could hear my old man’s voice echo his annoying refrain: “Should’ve stayed with the force. Steady pay, benefits, good retirement.” All the things he never had.

  Whatever. I’d given police work a shot, but I didn’t last long on the job. Everything about it was too black and white. The cars, the rules, the money. Besides, people like me don’t live to retirement. My last gig was proof I was looking at a short lifespan. I’d leapt out of a second-story window when the brother of the jumper I was trying to apprehend pumped shotgun shells my way. I had been working a righteous lead that the jumper was in the house, but by the time the boys in blue showed up, all I had to show for my trouble was a sprained ankle and a pissed-off homeowner.

  Now, my license was “under investigation” while bureaucrats sorted out the facts. Fact one: I broke into the house, square against the rules. Fact two: Homeowners in Texas have a right to shoot the hell out of anyone in their castle. The only fact in my favor was the jumper’s brother, who’d done his level best to kill me, had a rap sheet and wasn’t allowed to have a firearm. So I was merely under investigation with a red flag on my license for the next six months.

  The paper pushers in Austin considered it a slap on the hand, but my status paralyzed me. Bondsmen expect the bounty hunters they hire to do whatever it takes to bring in a bail jumper. Sure, there are rules, but we’re supposed to know them so well that breaking them is easy work. Word got around quick that I was under a bureaucratic microscope, and every one of my previous employers figured I couldn’t or wouldn’t push boundaries anymore. They blacklisted me as a result. Why Hardin suddenly tossed me a big case was a mystery, but I wasn’t in the business of solving mysteries. Find the jumper, collect the bounty. Those were my goals.

  I opened the Internet browser and selected my neighbor’s wireless network to sign on. After dollars became too scarce to pay for my own connection, I’d spent a valuable hour figuring out that his password was the name of his incessantly barking mutt, Fluffy. Stealing a few minutes online was my revenge for too many sleepless nights.

  Diamond and Yuri had made the news several times before Diamond killed Leo, but always society pages, never the metro section. Yuri was a mob boss, but like all good bosses, he made a show of being human by contributing to charities. He cut ribbons with the best of them, and Diamond stood behind her man on every occasion, dressed to the nines. The high-resolution glamour on the screen made the attraction I felt in response to the mug shot seem like a schoolgirl crush. I was in full-on aching arousal mode now. I’d channel the surges. Use the energy to hunt her down and collect my fee. With fifty grand in my bank account, surely I’d a way to take off the edge. In the meantime, craving was a great motivator.

  A few clicks later, I’d exhausted my online search. I had a list of notes, but no real clue where a bail-jumping pseudo socialite might be hiding out. Especially not one who had just offed a major player on the Dallas crime scene. Her main squeeze, Yuri, had posted her bond. He might want to cut ties now, and he could afford to pay the full amount at risk, but it wasn’t chump change—even to him. What had Diamond done to piss Yuri off? After all, she’d killed his main rival. What more could a man want from his woman?

  I pulled back the shade on the window by my desk. It was dark outside. I touched the glass. Cold, too. I strode to my closet and waved through my wardrobe. One of the things I’d hated about being a cop was wearing a uniform. Funny, since my choices consisted of three clothing items: jeans, T-shirts—long- and short-sleeved, and boots. I reached for my worn black leather jacket and tugged it on. Moments later, I slid behind the wheel of my 1991 Ford Bronco and drove to Yuri Pretov’s house.

  *

  “Mr. Pretov is not seeing visitors.”

  I stared down the uniformed gate monkey. “I’m not a visitor. I have business with Mr. Pretov. Tell him Hardin Jones sent me.”

  The exaggeration got me through the gate, which meant Pretov was curious. I was curious too, so that made us even. We could both satisfy that urge in a moment. Mansions in Dallas proper didn’t have enough real estate to accommodate long, winding driveways. I was parked and out of the car in moments. A beefy beast, taller than me, held the front door open a foot while he assessed my threat potential.

  “Leave your weapon in the car.”

  My forty-five long Colt wasn’t easily concealed, but I’d worn the big gun as a message. “No.”

  “Then go.”

  Never hurts to bluff. I wasn’t there to shoot anyone. Yuri and I were on the same side, but I knew I’d lose this battle. He hadn’t become a captain in the Russian mafia by letting armed strangers in his house. I stood my ground for a full ten seconds to show I wasn’t a pansy before I gave in.

  The beast led me to a suite on the second floor. Our path was crammed with massive, ornate wood furniture, jeweled vases and curios, and giant gold gilt frames surrounding dark and gloomy oil paintings of the Motherland. I felt like I was in a mini-museum of Old World culture. I imagined Diamond, as a voluptuous nude, reclining on a chaise, her blond waves fanned out against the silk brocade. An authentic beauty in this knock-off palace.

  Yuri didn’t rise when I entered. I wasn’t sure if that was because I wasn’t worth a formal greeting, or whether he was being considerate of the woman whose head rested in his lap. He waved me to a chair and motioned Beast to a corner, all the while stroking his love kitten. Whatever Diamond had meant to him in the past, Yuri had moved on.

  “Mr. Jones, he sent you?”

  I read a hint of irritation, and covered. The last thing I needed was to piss Hardin off. “No, he didn’t send me. He gave me a job to do, and I thought you might be able to help.”

  “I see.” He steepled his fingers and waited. The woman stirred at the absence of his stroking hand, then nestled back against his thighs. She was beautiful, but nothing compared to Diamond. Had Diamond spent hours curled on the floor at the feet of her master? I wanted to know as much as I didn’t.

  “I’m a recovery agent. I—”

  “I know who you are. Isn’t the term you people use ‘bounty hunter’?”

  I igno
red the question and focused on his first statement. I wanted to ask how he knew me, but I didn’t want to reveal my curiosity. I’d ask Hardin. In the meantime, I countered his blunt approach with subtlety.

  “I’d like to help you recover the assets you placed as collateral for Diamond Collier.”

  “Yes, please do. I am extremely concerned about all of my assets, especially the one you seek.”

  As he spoke I noticed a faint stirring from the opposite side of the room from where Beast stood sentry. A uniformed young man stood next to a large serving cart lined with rows of dome-covered dishes. Apparently, I’d interrupted Mr. Pretov’s mealtime. I glanced back at the master of the house. With a beauty in his lap, surrounded by wealth and security, he didn’t appear to be concerned about anything. I, however, was very concerned about how I was going to pay for my next meal. And rent. And phone service. Pesky but necessary stuff that led me to be brash. “I’ll find her. Quickly. Anything you can tell me about her habits would help.”

  “Habits?” He laughed and called to the Beast. “Did our Diamond have any special habits?” He laughed again and gestured at the woman resting on his thigh. “Other than those our new friend, Charity, has to offer?” Charity stirred slightly at the sound of her name. She cast a hazy glance my way, and her full lips formed a sated smile that lingered after her eyelids eased shut again. She wore a cobalt silk robe, which was striking against her ivory skin, and I was willing to bet she wore nothing underneath. Focus, Luca, focus.

  I looked up to catch Yuri watching me watching her. Time to move this along. He didn’t seem too keen on offering any information about Diamond, and what I really wanted to know—why he wanted to turn in the woman who’d gunned down his rival instead of using his considerable resources to spirit her away—I didn’t plan to ask. Not without a loaded gun in my hand and a getaway plan.

  Since it was expected, I thanked Yuri for the audience and waited for the Beast to escort me back downstairs. As I reached the door, Yuri spoke. “Our friend came from humble roots, similar to sweet Charity.” He paused and fixed me with a stare. “I’ll be watching you. You do a good job, and I’ll have more work for you, Ms. Bennett.”

  *

  I’d been leaning against her car for fifteen minutes before Detective Jessica Chase finally emerged from her apartment. She didn’t look happy to see me. It was early morning, so I wasn’t happy either.

  “Beat it, Bennett.”

  “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

  “Key word ‘old.’ I hear you’re still under investigation. No favors until you’re clear.”

  “I don’t need a favor,” I lied. “Just some conversation. Over coffee. I’ll buy.”

  “I’m late.”

  “For what? John’s not expecting you for another hour.” Her partner had answered the phone when I called the station and conveniently gave up Jess’s morning schedule.

  I’d spent the balance of the night before surfing for clues, but my Internet searches were running dry. Diamond Collier was a news story and not much more. She’d been born in North Carolina, had a Texas driver’s license, and that was about it.

  I’d gone to the address on her license late the night before. The only thing there was a strip club, closed on Mondays, as if horny men needed a day of rest after spending the Sabbath getting lap dances. I planned to go back later when the club opened, but in the meantime, I needed inside intel. The kind the law can get quicker than folks like me.

  I hadn’t seen Jess for a while, but we often went months between favors. She’d been the last one to ask, when a particularly bad murder scene had her on my doorstep at three in the morning. I was happy to indulge and we fucked until dawn, countering the inevitability of death with an endless parade of life-affirming orgasms. It would be bad taste for me to mention who owed who a favor, so I waited patiently for Jess to figure it out.

  She didn’t take long. “Good coffee, not that diner swill you drink.”

  I nodded. “I’ll follow you.”

  Ten minutes later, we were seated in the back corner of some upscale coffee shop. I had a mug of black joe, and Jess sipped a triple tall, extra-dry cappuccino. Ordering coffee shouldn’t take more than three words, and the tiny cups they used shouldn’t cost more than a gallon of high test fuel. I suppressed a grumble and paid with my last ten-dollar bill.

  I got right to the point since the change from my ten wouldn’t cover a refill. “I need to find Diamond Collier.”

  Jess took a sip from her fancy drink, swallowed, and took another.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  She put her cup down. “Oh, I heard you. I’m ignoring you.”

  “Seriously, Jess, I just need a little intel.”

  “Stay away from that case.”

  “I’m not working a case. I’m recovering a bail jumper. I just need a lead. So far, all trails to Diamond dead-end.”

  “That’s appropriate. I imagine lots of people want her dead. Maybe she’s already been found.”

  I shook my head. Hardin would’ve known, and I would’ve gotten a hint from Yuri. I sensed Yuri was keeping something from me, but I didn’t think Diamond’s death was his secret. Something he said had stuck with me. Made me think he’d met Diamond and Charity in the same place.

  “Where does Yuri meet his women?”

  “Not my case. I don’t know.”

  “But you could find out.”

  “I could do a lot of things.”

  “Yep. You are multitalented.”

  She stiffened, and her face reddened slightly. Our last encounter was great for me, but it had been nothing more than stress relief for her. Bad taste for me to bring it up. I groveled. “I need this, Jess. Can you drop me a crumb?”

  Her eyes pierced through me. She knew I didn’t display weakness for anyone else. I barely did for her, and then only when naked. Hard times make it easier to be humble. After a few beats, she rewarded my vulnerability. “I hear the Slice of Heaven is his current stable. Eddie Haster owns the place. At least a few of his girls are guaranteed to have outstanding warrants at any given time. I’ll text you some names. Use that for leverage, and he may talk to you.” She drained the rest of her expensive brew and stood. “Be careful, Bennett. Money’s no good if you’re not alive to spend it.”

  It was the nicest thing she’d ever said to me.

  *

  When the club opened, I paid my cover and strode through the door. Haster had probably been there all day, but I figured my threats would carry more weight if the girls were on-site. I left the hefty Colt in the car, since it was illegal to carry in the bar, but I had a smaller Sig Sauer tucked under my jacket. I didn’t mind breaking the law. I just didn’t want to get caught.

  I asked one of the cocktail waitresses where I could find Vixen aka Mary Sellers. She pointed to a door in the back marked “Office.” I ignored the center stage show and strode to the back. The door wasn’t locked. Eddie obviously didn’t care who saw him getting a lap dance. He groaned as I entered, but I couldn’t tell if his reaction was in response to my presence or the gyrations of the naked redhead. Even in her pretend throes of arousal, she looked like her mug shot. I flashed a sheaf of papers under the stripper’s nose and introduced myself as a recovery agent.

  “Are you Mary Sellers?”

  She looked frazzled, but Eddie held her in place as he rubbed himself against her crotch. She was done, but he wasn’t quite there yet. Warrantus interruptus. This would be fun.

  “Mary Sellers, I have a warrant for your arrest.”

  She sprang out of the chair. “That’s not me.”

  I shrugged. “Sorry. Vixen, I have a warrant for your arrest.” I flashed a shiny pair of handcuffs. She backed away, stumbling over the chair where Eddie sat, moaning the sudden loss of sensation.

  He managed to pull himself together long enough to ask, “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m a recovery agent. I’m here to arrest Ms. Sellers a.k.a. Ms. Vixen.” I m
ade a show of consulting the papers in my hand. “Oh, and a few of your other employees.” Vixen’s eyes darted around, and I positioned myself to block the door. I opened my jacket just enough to let them both see the Sig.

  “Tell you what, Haster, I have a business proposition for you. If you would see fit to answer a few questions for me about another matter, I think I could see fit to overlook this business.” I waved the papers to indicate what “this business” meant.

  Eddie nodded. I stepped aside, and he hissed “get out” to Vixen. She grabbed a g-string from the desk and ran out the door.

  I sat on the desk and propped my boots on Eddie’s chair. If I’d had more time and money, I would’ve spent a few nights in the place, asking casual questions of the girls over cocktails, until I’d gathered enough information to get a lead on Diamond. Pumping Eddie wouldn’t be as much fun, but it would yield faster results.

  I cut right to the chase. “My name’s Bennett. Yuri Pretov hired me to find his ex-girlfriend, Diamond Collier. He said she used to work here.”

  Eddie nodded, confirming my belief that a good lie is often the shortest path to the truth. I kept at it. “He said for you to cooperate with me. She failed to appear for court. He’s worried about her. Wants me to find her before the law, so she’ll have an opportunity to explain her situation on her own terms. Any assistance you can provide would be considered a debt owed by Mr. Pretov.” This is the part where, if I were telling the truth, I would have flashed some good faith money. Thankfully, my gun was enough collateral to assure Eddie’s cooperation.

  “She came by here yesterday. Talked to a few of the girls. I don’t know anything else about where she might be. Talk to Roxy.” He looked me up and down. “Have her take you to a private room if you want. She’ll be happy to cooperate.” His eager tone turned my stomach, and I almost punched him for tricking his girls so he could suck up to an asshole like Pretov, but he wasn’t worth getting my hands dirty.