He nodded.
"A rather lousy job you've done so far," I said.
"But you had a key. Somehow you got in," he said trying to defend himself.
"Yeah," I said. "And you're wearing a robe and slippers."
"Come on guy," he said. "I live here. It's evening."
"I guess we need to work together," I said. "I want to see Richie, and you don't want to get shot."
"What do you want with Richie anyway?"
"I got questions about a website," I said.
"That's it?" he asked.
"Yeah, that's it," I said.
"What website?" he asked.
"YouDisgustMe.com"
"Never heard of it," he said.
"And you're an incompetent bodyguard too," I said.
He bristled, but I jabbed the gun into his chest and he quieted down again.
"Call Richie," I said.
"What?"
"I said call Richie. Get him over here."
"Are you insane?"
"Mostly," I said.
"He'll come around the corner, see this, and then lead is going to start flying."
There was a knock at the door.
Chapter 20
"Shit," the bodyguard said.
I stepped back. "You want to get that?"
"With you standing right there?"
"Go ahead," I said.
He stepped forward, but I clocked him. Hard. He dropped like a rock and my fist really hurt.
There was a coat closet near the front door, and I dragged him into it. The knock came at the door again.
I jammed my pistol into my pants and covered it with my shirt. Then I opened the door.
Four or five men stood there. They looked at me but didn't enter.
"Hey, we got the right one?" one of them asked.
"Yeah, says right on the door 7105," another answered.
The one in front said, "Who are you?"
"I'm new," I said. "I'm helping Richie with some domestic stuff."
"Domestic stuff?" The guy chuckled.
"I thought he had that broad he was doing helpin' around the place," he said.
"Her too," I said, playing along.
"Well, can we come in?"
I stepped to the side. I had no idea how this was going to end, but I had a bad feeling it was going to get bloody. Really, really bloody.
They all stepped in, and I shut the door behind them. I did the sign of the cross. God forgive me. I was going to have so much to confess next time I went to confession.
They all walked out of the entry and out of site deeper into the place. I heard greetings being exchanged loudly.
It was time. I walked in behind them. The room grew silent when those sitting saw me.
There were maybe ten or so in the room now, counting those who'd just walked in too.
"Who are you?" one of the sitting guys asked.
"Ain't he your domestic help?" one of the new ones asked.
The guy who must be Richie shook his head.
It was time. I brought the gun out. I leveled the bead on the closest guy and fired. I aimed at the next and fired again.
Two bodies dropped.
I got two more of them before I had to duck back. They had their guns out too.
Three bullet holes tore into the wall behind where I'd been standing.
With all the noise, the neighbors would be reporting this. I was going to need to move fast, or I was going to end up in a very tight jam. Not that that was anything new to me.
A gun appeared around the corner, and then a guy. I jumped sideways and his shot missed me.
My ears were ringing from all the shots inside such a tight place.
I kicked the guy in the nuts and using him as a shield I went back out into the hall way.
Everyone held their fire.
Richie stood up. "What's this about?"
Instead of answering, I started shooting. I got two more before the last two ducked behind furniture. Richie tried to take cover behind the big screen TV.
I marched my human shield, who still hadn't recovered from the nut kick, deeper into the room. From there I killed the last two. Then I shot the guy I was holding in front of me.
I let him drop to the ground.
"Come out Richie. We got to talk."
He came out with his hands up. Remarkably, he did look a lot like me.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"A private investigator," I said.
"You are not," he said derisively. "Don't lie to me."
"Really, I am," I said.
"That doesn't make any sense. No PI I know of would do what you did. Do you have any idea what the consequences will be?"
"You're in a poor position to be threatening," I said. I had the gun pointed at him.
"Sorry. You're right," he said. "I mean to say that maybe we could work something out. I could use a soldier like you. You're no regular civilian."
"Let's get real, Richie. Soon security or the police will be here."
"Why?" he asked.
"The gun fire, stupid," I said.
He smirked. "Due to the recession, this floor is vacant. I'm the only one up here. No one heard."
He paused to let that sink in. Then he continued, "I'm serious about recruiting you. We can move beyond this. I could really use your help."
"Richie," I said. "I need you to listen closely. I've got some questions for you. Answer honestly to stay alive. A dishonest answer gets you shot."
His eyes moved around the room to the dead bodies.
"Exactly," I said. "I don't think I have to try very hard to prove my point. I'm serious. Deadly serious."
"Okay?"
"Do you know about the website YouDisgustMe.com? And Richie, the correct answer is 'yes'. Don't make me shoot you on the first question."
"Are you a federal cop?" he asked suspiciously.
"I told you. I'm a private investigator."
"Yeah, I don't buy that, but yes, I know about the website."
"Tell me about it," I said.
He made a face like the whole conversation was beneath him. "It's a porn site."
There was a knock at the door.
"You were expecting more?" I asked.
Slowly, he nodded.
Why did things always have a way of going from bad to worse?
"Well, they can't come in here." Besides the dead bodies, blood was everywhere. The carpeting was white, and the stains were more than obvious even if the bodies were removed.
"Well, I can't put them in the bedroom," he said. "That would make them suspicious."
"Tell them to leave."
"Are you kidding?" he asked. "They wouldn't think its normal. These aren't stupid Joe's I got coming over."
I rubbed my forehead in frustration. "Richie, I intend to walk away from here alive. If I've got to shoot my way out, I will. But here's the thing. If you want to stay alive yourself, you'll get them the hell out of here. Okay?"
"Fine," he said. "I got suddenly sick. Does that work, boss?"
"Get up and answer the door," I said. "Remember, I got no problem pulling the trigger. You know I will. So keep it straight."
"Yeah. Got it," he said.
He was amazingly cool under pressure. I have to say I was impressed. He got up and went to the door. I kept my distance while keeping the gun on him.
He answered the door and told the guys outside that he'd suddenly come down with something. He wouldn't let them in for fear that they'd get it. Eventually, he convinced them to leave.
My hand holding the gun was sweating. I kept expecting him to blow it. If that had happened, then I would have had to shoot him, but then all hell would have broken loose. They'd be more heavily armed. It would have taken a miracle to get me out of that one alive.
The gun was slippery by the time he closed the door on them.
We went back into the living room. I switched hands on the gun and dried my hand.
Back in the living room,
windows lined the far wall and showed a spectacular view of the city.
"Now, tell me about the website," I said.
"I really don't know much about it," he said. "It's not my job to run it."
"What kind of a website is it?"
"Porn," he said.
"What kind of porn?"
"It's a rape site," he said and he seemed a little ashamed.
"Is it real?"
"What?"
"Is the rape real?" I asked.
"No. That's sick. No!"
"So it's staged?"
"Yeah. It's actors playing a part."
"Do you know the models?" I asked.
"No," he said.
"So the name Kelly Brandt doesn't mean anything to you?"
He didn't answer right away.
"Well?"
"I know the name," he said.
"And?"
"She's the only one I knew about. That's because we had . . . other connections to her."
"I'm getting tired of dragging this out of you," I said. "Come on. Give it to me."
"She liked to visit our casinos."
"What casinos?"
"Man, I can't believe I'm telling this stuff to you. We got a bunch of casinos."
"Are we talking illegal casinos?"
"Sort of," he said. "The cops don't bust us."
"Because they are paid off," I said.
"They really are underpaid. We help them make the mortgage payment, okay?"
"Whatever. What does this have to do with Kelly?"
"She had a tab or account with us. We weren't monitoring it closely. Actually, the associate who was supposed to be doing that for us, ah, he doesn't work for us any more. He wasn't paying attention."
"So, you let her run up a debt?"
"She had a gambling problem. She owed something in the six figures before we caught it."
It was starting to clear up. I was getting the picture. "And?"
"We barred her from our establishments, and she didn't have that kind of cash. So, after some persuading, nothing violent, we got her to agree to work for the website."
"She was working her debt off?"
"But she still owes a lot," he said. "A lot."
"How did it work?" I asked.
"We pay all the models the going rate, right? Instead of paying her, we credit her account."
"So, your organization didn't want her dead?"
"She's dead?" he asked.
"You haven't heard?"
"No! What happened?"
"Suicide," I said.
"Oh, not good," Richie said. "She still owes something like 70K."
"One more thing," I said. "What does the name Mickey Richardson mean to you?"
"Never heard of him. What's he do?"
"He's in wholesaling," I said. "You never heard of him?"
"No, I don't know him."
Richie never saw it coming. I pulled the trigger. His body spun around on the impact of the bullet. He was dead before his body hit the ground. I kept my word to the pimp.
In the closet, I shot George, the bodyguard. The only thing I'd touched in the condo was the door. I wiped it clean.
Then I had an idea. I went into Richie's bedroom. Heck, the bedroom was about as big as half of my house. Anyway, I took out some black jeans and a sweatshirt with a hood. I stuffed it all into a backpack. That I carried low to keep it out of sight. I wiped my prints off of the closet door.
In the living room, I picked up all the shell casings and put them in the backpack too.
I left the condo and rode the elevator down. I wiped my prints off the elevator button. At the ground level, I wiped the button that I'd pressed to go up.
Ahead the guard was reading a paper. I wiped the contractor badge clean and set it down. Same for the keys. I took the fake license with my picture.
He looked up. "Hey, that was a lot longer than 10 minutes. Lucky for you, I forgot about you."
"Lucky for you, I found this," I said. I held out Richie's key.
His eyes widened. "Whoa," he said. He checked and found that the key was missing from his lockbox. "Thanks!"
"No problem," I said.
With my head low, I left. The gun I had used up in Richie's place had been purchased for cash from a private party. I believe it had also been purchased by the previous owner from some other private party before that.
I wasn't worried about them tracing the gun to me.
I changed into Richie's clothes in some shadows not far from where I exited. The backpack and uniform were dumped into random dumpsters. They wouldn't be found.
Through the dark night I walked all the way to the lot that had my car. I got the car and started driving home. After I'd gotten clear of the city and was on the freeway, I took out my disposable phone and called my client, Macy.
She picked up.
"It's me, your private investigator," I said.
"Hello Ray," she said. She sounded expectant. "Do you have news?"
"I do, but probably not what you want to hear."
She didn't answer.
"You mentioned that your mom was anti-pornography, right?" I asked.
"Yes," she said in a quiet voice.
"Well, I've found her featured in at least two porn sites."
"I don't believe it," she said.
"This isn't speculation or guessing," I said. "I've actually confirmed it."
"But why?"
"First, did your mom have a gambling problem?" I asked.
"Who told you that?" she asked curtly.
"Someone who will remain nameless," I said. "Did she?"
"Yes," she said.
"Then that's why she was in one of the porn sites," I said. "She was paying off debts. Gambling debts."
"She never mentioned anything to me about it," she said.
"Given who she owed them to, that's not surprising," I said.
"Who is it?"
"For your own protection, it's better that you know less, not more." I sighed. "And I found another porn site she was in. This one is run, I believe, by her former fiancé."
"Mickey?"
"Not only that," I said. "But I don't think she knew anything about it."
"But she found out, and Mickey killed her?" She sounded almost like she was making an accusation.
"It's possible, but given things I uncovered, I don't think that is what happened. I think he's purely a slime ball. I don't think you can tag him with murder."
"So, what do you think happened?" she asked.
Chapter 21
On the freeway, I passed a semi-truck going far too slow. "I think it's very possible she did commit suicide to escape what she had to do to pay off debts. I think that's possible because of who she was paying off and what she had to do to pay them off."
"I don't think so, Ray," she said. "My mom wouldn't have done that."
"You also didn't think she'd be in porn, but you were wrong about that," I pointed out.
"No, Ray. She didn't kill herself. She didn't do it. I know how it all looks, but that's not true."
"So . . ."
"So, keep looking into it," she said. "I'll send another check to you, okay?"
"Okay," I said. We disconnected.
The problem here was I was running out of suspects. I was thinking that it wasn't her creep of a fake fiancé. I was also thinking it wasn't the mob.
Macy wouldn't have done it, because she hired me. So, who did it? Of course, that was assuming that someone did it. I wasn't convinced that this was really a murder.
However, Carlie Smith, the last to see her alive may be withholding information still. She did act funny about all of this.
I was guessing that she wasn't the murderer, but that didn't mean that she didn't know something. She might, but getting her to talk had been impossible.
I knew about that because I'd taken pepper spray in the face last time I tried to talk to her. You don't tend to forget stuff like that.
I was going to have to get i
nside her head. She was the bottleneck on all this. She was the one that was holding my investigation back.
And then I had a brainstorm.
I'd talk to her neighbors. With any luck, one of them was really noisy and a gossip. Anything I could gather might be used as leverage to get Carlie to open up.
It was as good of a plan as I could come up with, so I decided to put it into action tomorrow morning.
I drove home, parking over a mile from the house, and walking slowly home.
Inside I had a cold supper and went to bed. I was exhausted, mentally.
The next morning I didn't wake up until eight. I got out of bed and felt alone. Everything felt incomplete with my wife gone.
I made coffee and headed out.
Carlie's car was gone when I got to her neighborhood. She'd be at work, and her little sister would be at school. The buildings on either side were built very close together. They were all apartments.
I knocked on the doors of all the units on either side, and found no one home. On the other side of the street, there were houses. These were older houses, older than the apartment buildings, but better maintained.
I saw someone through the window briefly of the house directly across from Carlie's building.
It was a little one-story, brick house. I walked over to it and knocked on the door.
A little, white-haired woman opened the door a crack. "Yes?"
"Hello, ma'am," I said. "I'm Ray Crusafi, a private investigator. Do you know Carlie Smith across the street?"
"A private investigator? Like Perry Mason?"
I had no idea who Perry Mason was. "Yes, like Perry Mason," I said.
"Won't you come in?"
"Sure," I said.
She opened the door and I stepped in. I had a good feeling about this. Old ladies had this way of talking too much. And she was already impressed that I was like Perry Mason, whoever that was. I figured it was someone from the black-and-white era. Probably he was dead by now.
"You asked if I knew Carlie Smith?" She led me to her kitchen, which smelled of cinnamon.
"Yes," I said. "She lives across from you."
"I know where she lives, Mr. Crusafi," she said. She gave me a sly look. "But I haven't actually met her."
"Oh," I said disappointed. "So you don't really know anything about her."
She smiled. "I know a lot about her. What are you investigating, Mr. Crusafi?"
"That's confidential. I'm sorry," I said. If I told her anything, everyone sixty-five and older in town would know about it within days. She was that type. I could tell.
Death of an Escort Page 16