Bill got to his feet. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No. You stay here and look after Diane. You keep her safe, okay?’
Sighing, Bill sat back down. ‘Stay in the shadows, pal.’
‘I will,’ Mason said, shrugging on his coat. ‘At least until I have that bitch by the throat.’
51
Mason stood in the street across from Priceless Beauties. Last time he was here, it had been to ask some innocent questions. And now? He was on his guard.
Although confronting this woman head-on would be satisfying, he knew that it was counterproductive. With this in mind, he waited long after the sun went down and a couple of women left the building. One of them locked up behind her, but it wasn’t Alison Wendell.
The street was empty and Mason crossed the road. He checked the door for an alarm system, found none, then broke the door open with a forceful shove. It popped right open and he went inside, propping a nearby chair against it to make it look as if it had stayed closed. Who knew if anybody would come by here?
Knowing that it was safer than having somebody spot a flashlight, Mason turned the lights on and drew the blinds. The place was his to explore now, but for how long?
His first port of call was the reception desk. There were plenty of files and invoices, but nothing of substance. Disappointed, he headed through to the back, where there was a row of cheap-looking beds. There were curtains to separate them, but they were all slid back on their rails.
Is this where they do the “massages”?
Mason began to walk over and check the area, when there was a thud upstairs.
He froze, listening closely, hoping it was just his imagination.
But there it was again, loud, like somebody falling out of bed and hitting the floorboards. Mason drew the policeman’s gun from under his coat. He found the staircase, took a deep breath, and ventured upstairs.
52
Hands clasped around the gun, Mason took step by slow step with great caution.
It was dark on the staircase, and only a small light from the landing guided him to the top. With only three more steps to go, the thud came again.
This time, there was a scratching sound, like a suitcase being dragged along on its side. Anybody could be up here, Mason knew, and that included police officers. But he had to find something to help his investigation, no matter what.
He reached the top, peered around and saw a boy sitting quietly on a chair, a video game magazine open across his lap. The boy – no older than ten – looked up with frightened eyes but didn’t move.
Mason put a finger to his lips and whispered, ‘Quiet, kid.’
One could never be too careful when breaking and entering. On the chance that this boy hadn’t made the banging sound, Mason went from room to room with his weapon ready to fire. The place was dark, a little cold, but there was nothing out of the ordinary.
Mason stowed the gun away and went back to him, where the boy was still sitting reading his magazine without making a sound. He put the gun away. ‘Hey, kid.’
The boy lifted the magazine to cover his face. His hands were shaking.
Who is this boy? Is this some kind of horrible, lonely day care? ‘What are you doing here?’ Mason asked, taking the magazine from him calmly. ‘Where are your parents?’
The boy shrugged.
Mason knelt down beside him. ‘What’s your name?’
‘L-Luke,’ he said shyly.
‘Well, it’s nice to meet you, Luke.’ Mason shook hands with the kid, attempting to make him feel as though they were equals. He’d never been good with kids, but he knew that if you made them feel important enough, they would level with you. ‘It’s dark in here, huh?’
‘Yep.’
‘Do you mind if I sit with you?’
‘Sure.’
Mason took a seat on the couch. ‘Where’s your father? Did he leave you here?’
Luke shrugged again. ‘I’ve never met him.’
‘Sorry.’ Mason felt bad for the kid – if not for being without a father, then for being left alone above a prostitute parlour. ‘How about your mother?’
‘She went out to work.’
His mother is a hooker. Jesus. ‘And she just left you here all by yourself?’
Luke nodded. ‘Can I read my magazine now?’
‘Of course. Mind if I take a look around?’
Luke nodded, and Mason inspected the room. Against the back wall, shelves and shelves of unlabelled DVD cases sat in black boxes. He wondered what they were for, but couldn’t risk taking one. Across the room was a dresser. There were documents stashed into the top drawer, and Mason skimmed through them. Still, nothing with an address other than this one.
But then something else caught his eye.
His hand beginning to shake, Mason reached up for the photo frame. In it, Luke was sitting on his bicycle. The training wheels were on and a helmet was strapped to his head. But the important feature – the part that had Mason’s heart pounding wildly – was the woman standing behind him. The manageress of this establishment.
‘Luke.’
The boy turned around.
‘What’s your surname?’
Luke looked up, said, ‘Wendell,’ and turned back to his magazine.
Luke Wendell. Mason felt like sitting, before the shock took him off his feet. ‘You’re Alison Wendell’s son.’
53
Sex or slaughter? Pleasure or torture? Either way, she needed a drink, and so heading to a bar would allow her to make a decision later.
Sporting her natural hair and her hottest blouse, Lady locked everybody up and drove into town. Her thoughts drifted towards Luke and how she had just left him at home, but he would be okay. He was a solitary kid at the best of times, which suited her lifestyle perfectly.
The bar she found was a new one on the other end of town. Nobody would recognise her and nobody would have to see her again after that night. She ordered a gin and sat quietly at the bar, waiting for whoever would drift over and try their luck.
Their mistake.
The first was a young man, maybe mid-twenties. His hair was long, thick, wavy blonde. His eyes had a purity, which suggested he’d yet to have his eyes opened to the reality of the world. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’ he asked. He probably had no problem getting women’s attention with that smile.
‘You can buy what you want,’ said Lady. ‘Just don’t bother me while I drink it.’
He wrinkled his nose up and walked away without another word.
Good. The last thing I need is an age gap to draw attention to myself. Lady downed her drink, ordered another and waited patiently. It was taking longer than usual tonight. She was about to give up and move to a different bar, when a different man came to her side.
‘Good evening.’
‘Hello.’ Lady stared straight ahead, smiling.
‘Are you new in town?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because this place has been open for a month. You’re sitting alone and I’ve never seen you before.’ He pushed his glasses up his nose, and the bartender placed a drink in front of him.
‘Great deductive skills,’ Lady said sarcastically. ‘What else, Sherlock?’
The man laughed, leaned into her ear and whispered, ‘I know how women of your… variety tend to dress and hold themselves. You’re not here for pleasure, you’re here for work.’
‘Oh?’ Am I that obvious?
‘Uh-huh. Listen, what do you say we cut corners and head back to my place? Whatever your price, name it and it’s yours. I’m a wealthy man, and you could be a wealthy girl. A simple business transaction. What do you say?’
What an absolute pig. Lady wondered what his expression would be like if she told him he was wrong, acted offended and threw a drink in his smug face. Sadly for him, she had come here not knowing whether she wanted the sweet satisfaction of seeing a man die. He had unwillingly been kind enough to resolve that dilemma for her.
; ‘Come on,’ he said, sliding a hand loosely under her elbow. ‘You might just enjoy it.’
An image in her mind – his look of shock as a blade penetrated his gut. ‘I’m sure I will,’ she said. ‘Just let me get my coat.’
54
It was a bad, bad idea, but he had to do it.
Mason knocked on Evie’s door and waited for Diane to answer. When she did, her eyes went directly down, to the small boy at his side. ‘Who…Hi there.’
They went inside, leaving Luke to sit quietly on the sofa while the adults talked amongst themselves in the kitchen.
‘What’s going on?’ Bill asked, helping himself to coffee from the machine. He poured into three mugs and handed one to each of them.
‘That’s Wendell’s son.’
‘What?’ came from Bill and Diane in unison.
‘I didn’t have a choice.’ Mason peered through the door and saw the boy sitting there, minding his own business but looking curiously around the room. ‘She has my sister. I have her son. We’re not even close to even, but at least we have an advantage now.’
‘We?’ Bill said, slamming down his mug. ‘I’m your friend, and I have your back, but I won’t have a hand in kidnapping. No, count me out. Just… Are you insane?’
Diane sighed, shook her head and left the room.
‘What else could I do?’ Mason asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Let’s say, uh… steal an address book or a pocket diary? The last thing I expected you to do was come home with the woman’s son!’ Bill waved a finger around. ‘No, she’s going to hate you for this, buddy. I mean really hate you.’
‘Yeah, well, the feeling’s mutual, pal,’ Mason snapped. ‘While the police are on a manhunt for me, and Wendell is out for blood because of something you and I both did, my options seem to be getting a little thin.’
Bill sucked up a large breath of air and puffed it out. His hands rested on his hips. ‘Why don’t you just let me take the fall for this one?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I can hand myself over to Lady Luck, tell her that I killed her brother. Maybe she’ll release Evie and I can take the punishment.’
‘That’s ridiculous. What about Christine? What will she do without her husband?’
‘What about Amy? What would she do without her dad?’
Mason grunted. ‘Good point…. But no, you’re not taking the blame for this one.’
The room fell silent, the only sound a muffled conversation between Luke and Diane in the next room. Mason scratched his chin. ‘I need you in on this, Bill.’
‘What’s your plan?’ He seemed calmer now.
‘I don’t really have one. But if I know anything, it’s that that kid in there is a bargaining chip. For as long as we have him, Evie is safe. Alive, at least.’
‘And how do you plan to get in touch with her?’
‘Her son is missing. As soon as she finds out, I’m sure she’ll reach out.’
‘You’d better know what you’re doing. I’m here for you – you know that – but you should make damn sure you don’t mess this up. It’s not just your own life you’re toying with here.’ Bill’s phone rang, and he took it out of his pocket. ‘Everyone is involved now. Excuse me.’ He went into the other room, taking the call.
Mason stared aimlessly at the wall, weighing his options. Maybe it was a stupid idea after all, but what difference did it make now? The kid was here, and he had to use that fact as best he could. If he messed up, the consequences would not be pretty.
55
‘You’re married?’ Lady gawked at the ring on his finger.
‘She’s away for the weekend.’ The man – whose name had turned out to be Roger, and it suited his old-fashioned Clark Kent look – slid the key into the door and invited her into the apartment. It was the penthouse suite, every bit as classy as his clothes. If only his attitude had been this nicely polished. Still, at least it was evidence that he might pay well.
They closed the door behind and went straight to the bedroom, where Roger swept in and began kissing her neck. ‘Nu-uh,’ she said, pushing him back with a seductive smile. ‘You, on the bed. This is my show.’ She unhooked the top button of her blouse, pulled the handcuffs from her purse and crawled over him.
Roger was on his back, his hands above his head. When Lady cuffed his wrists to the bedpost, he had nothing to say. There was a momentary look of confusion, followed by satisfied understanding. ‘Well, I hope it’s worth my money.’
‘Speaking of which, I’ll need to know how much you’ll be paying.’ She moved down so as her mouth was by his crotch, but she wouldn’t perform yet. First, she needed a number, which was always at its highest when the men were at their hardest.
‘My wallet is in my jacket.’ He nodded towards the chair in the corner of the room.
Lady Luck climbed off him and went through the wallet. There was over a thousand dollars in there. What kind of man carries that much money? A man who knows what he’s heading out for – that’s who. ‘All of this?’
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Now get on over here and show me what it’s worth.’
She held the wallet, knowing that she was also holding the power. The fact that he was a sexist pig made it all the easier to do this to him. ‘It’s not enough.’
‘What do you… I mean, that’s all I have on me.’
The apartment she was in suggested that he was just being tight-fisted. He could afford more, and they both knew it. ‘You think that’s all I’m worth? A thousand dollars?’
Roger’s erection was visibly sinking. ‘I can go downstairs and withdraw–’
‘Why don’t you just tell me your digits? That way, I know you can’t worm out of it.’
He huffed. ‘It’s my date of birth. Eleven-zero-one.’
How original, she thought as she checked his driver’s licence. It seemed he was telling the truth.
Just then, a door clicked open in the other room.
Roger sat up, his cuffs pulling him back.
‘Hello?’ A woman’s voice, not far from here.
‘Shit,’ said Roger, turning a bright red. ‘It’s my wife.’
Lady moved to behind the door and watched it open. She didn’t want to be seen, but somehow felt that it would be unavoidable. She slipped the bank card from the wallet and discarded the remains.
A dumpy brunette walked into the room and stood mortified as she assessed what had been happening inside the room. Lady tried to sneak out, but the woman turned and spotted her. She threw her bag down and anger filled her eyes.
‘What the hell is going on in here?’
Too late. Her face had been seen. Lady reached into her boot, where she kept the pocketknife she’d taken from Evelyn Black. As soon as the blade was out, the woman rushed at her, knocking it from her hand. They both went tumbling to the floor with a crash, and the knife went spinning under the bed.
Roger, humiliated and furious, ripped away from the bedpost, wood splintering into different directions. ‘How dare you attack my wife!’ It was an interesting change of personality, to say the least.
Lady scurried to her feet, reached for her purse, but her fingers slipped. It was too late – she had to get out of there. A clump of her hair was grabbed from behind, but she struggled free. Hurrying to the door, she burst outside and rushed down the stairs a few steps at a time.
Whichever of the two had been chasing her (probably the both of them) had now given up. It was likely that they would call the police now, and fight about it later. Regardless, Lady had to get away from the scene as quickly as possible. She dove into a cab and held Roger’s bank card up to the light.
That was a mess, Alison. A big fucking mess.
56
Mason closed the door behind them, leaving Diane to look after the kid.
‘You think she’ll be okay?’ Bill asked as they headed down the corridor.
‘She’ll be fine. Tell me where we’re going.’
‘An a
partment in Presidio Heights. A married man went home with some woman he met from the bar, as his wife was out of town. She comes home, finds out what he’s up to and goes berserk.’ Bill held the door open, and Mason walked through.
‘I’m guessing that this mystery woman was the elusive Alison Wendell?’
‘Judging by a fistful of her hair, yes. The DNA matched.’
Mason exhaled loudly and climbed into the passenger seat. They were heading to the scene, after Bill had instructed the officers to leave. That way, Mason would be free to tag along and find anything that might be useful to him.
They arrived across the street and stayed put. Police cars were still outside, finishing up their business. Mason imagined them comforting the victims and telling them that a detective was on his way over. ‘I suppose it’s lucky the wife came home. Think Wendell would have hurt him?’
‘I wouldn’t put it past her.’
‘If you ask me, they’re both lucky. I don’t have to tell you how dangerous that woman is. Bitch is really giving me some grief.’ Mason fidgeted with Evie’s apartment key. ‘Listen, I might need to borrow your police badge.’
Bill looked over with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing.
‘Just for when we get inside. You can have it back right after.’
‘Then why borrow it at all?’
‘I want to lead the discussion.’
Bill mumbled something under his breath and handed over the badge. ‘Fine. But only because you’re better at squeezing information out of people.’
Across the street, the officers were leaving. When they were out of sight, Mason and Bill headed over. They entered through an enormous lobby. Everything was made of glass, and a receptionist greeted them. He was smartly dressed and well mannered.
Mason flicked up the badge. ‘Detective Harvey.’ It was better to use Bill’s name, too, should they ask for closer inspection of the ID. ‘I’m here to talk with a Roger Gibbons.’
They were shown to the elevator and told to go to the top floor.
Mason thanked him and the elevator doors closed. There was no music – just the gentle hum of the machine going about its business.
Mason Black (The Complete Collection): 6 Gripping Crime Stories: The Complete Collection + BONUS Story Page 27