Murderous Profession

by D J Small

  Dax shook his head. “Nope. Not on my way into the building, and not on the floor.” He paused, but when Eliza didn’t ask another question, he continued. “I made it as far as the end of the wall, but I didn’t risk going any further when I saw that the lights were on. I wanted to check out the place, but I didn’t.”

  “Does anyone else have access to your apartment?” Eliza asked.

  Voice tight with emotion, Dax replied, “Angelique did.”

  Tears shimmered in his eyes, and Eliza gave him a moment to gather himself as he took another drink of the vodka, which was almost gone. When he had finished draining the glass, Eliza asked, “Where was the package at?”

  “On the island in the kitchen. The lights above it were on, and once I saw it, I got the hell out of dodge,” Dax said with a humorless chuckle. “I’m black, we go running the other way when something isn’t right.”

  Eliza smirked, but felt it drop a few seconds later. She had one more question for him, then she wanted to check in with Billy and see if he had secured a safe house for Dax. “The party at the Gemini Club, what was it for?”

  Dax shrugged. “Just a publicity stunt by Pleasure Inc. A way for them to lure in new clients and showcase what the firm offers.”

  “Why were you there?”

  The briefest of smiles played on Dax’s lips, then vanished. “I had an invitation.” In a soft voice, he added, “Angie invited me.” He looked into his now-empty glass and sighed. “It was also an opportunity for me to speak with some of their staff.”

  A comment Dax had made to her a few times forced its way to the front of Eliza’s brain. “Weighing your options?”

  “Possibly. I’m still weighing them.”

  “Why?” Eliza asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

  “Because,” he said, exhaling, “as much money their clientele has, I’m not sure I want to work for a firm. The amount of money they take is giving me pause.” He smiled. “Having a third party cut into my profits is a bit of a thorn in my side.”

  Eliza understood; no one wanted someone else cutting into their hard-earned money. “So why contemplate it at all?”

  Dax stood up and walked closer to the window in front of the chaise. “You mean besides having someone else take care of the pesky administrate work?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A steady flow of clients and access to resources,” he answered after a long pause. He turned to face her, leaning back against the window. “Don’t get me wrong, Detective, I have plenty of clients who pay me well and will refer me to their friends, but in an age where you can walk into a place and say, ‘I’m looking for someone to have sex with’ and be given a plethora of options, it eats into my ability to get new clients, especially as a freelancer. I am limited on what resources I have available to offer my clients.

  “For instance, if a client of mine would like to experiment with BDSM, or something I don’t have the proper equipment for, I have to rely on places like Pleasure Inc. to meet my client’s needs. In doing so, I still have to pay the firm. Sure, I can write it off at tax time, but it’s daunting, and I run the risk of losing a client by exposing them to what a firm can offer them.”

  Eliza now had not only a better understanding of why he would consider joining a firm, but also of how things operated within the vocation. She stood, and wanting to know more about what happened at the party, asked, “Did anything unusual happen at the party?”

  Dax shook his head. “No. Nothing at all.” A short chuckle escaped him. “Veronica certainly knows how to throw a party. She makes sure everyone has a good time, if you get what I’m saying, but she vanished midway through it.”

  “Where’d she go?” Eliza inquired. Her eyebrows furrowed.

  “Not sure,” Dax said with a shrug. “One moment I saw her speaking with some guy, and the next, she was gone.”

  Eliza stared past Dax and out of the window. Veronica’s disappearance from the party could mean something, or it could be another dead end. Eliza pressed her lips together and focused on Dax. He looked emotionally drained, and she decided not to press him further. “I’m all set, Dax. Let me go talk to Billy and see if your safe house has been arranged. Was your apartment checked?”

  Dax nodded.

  “Good. Go pack a bag; I would say for a week. Another thing...” She grimaced, knowing he wouldn’t like what she had to say next. “You’ll need to cancel your appointments.”

  “Cancel my appointments?” Dax repeated, sounding bewildered by the order. “I can’t cancel my appointments, I have work to do.”

  Eliza maintained her sympathetic gaze as she said, “I know you do, but we need to minimize your movements so that whoever is targeting you won’t know where you are. That means no working.”

  He forced out an irritated breath. “Fine. Is there anything else, Detective?”

  “No.” Eliza felt bad about restricting him, but it was a necessary evil to keep him safe.

  Dax pushed off of the window, and as he walked by Eliza, she reached out and took a firm hold of his bicep. His dark eyes met hers.

  “We’re going to find the person who did this, Dax, and once we do, you’ll get your life back and justice for your friends. I promise.”

  The muscles under her hand relaxed. “I know you will, and I’m sorry for snapping. It’s just that this whole situation and everything with Angelique and Simon has me in a terrible place.”

  “I know, and you don’t have to apologize.” Eliza gave him a small smile. “I would probably be cursing up a storm if I were in the same situation.”

  Dax chuckled quietly. “I’m sure you would do a lot more than that.”

  Eliza smile grew, and she said, “Perhaps.”

  They held each other’s gaze, and as they stood there, a startling emotion began to swirl inside of Eliza. She cared about Dax, and not in a subtle way, either. Eliza wasn’t certain when she had started to care for him, but she did, and she was going to do everything possible to make sure he stayed alive.

  “Detective,” Billy called, pulling Eliza and Dax from the intimate and unusual moment they had fallen into.

  Eliza took her hand off Dax’s bicep and gently said, “Go pack.”

  Dax gave her a swift nod and headed for the stairs as Eliza took a moment to shake off the baffling emotions that had taken hold of her. She didn’t know where these weird feelings were coming from, but she didn’t need them.

  “What do you have for me, Billy?” she asked, raking her fingers through her hair as she approached him.

  “Safe house has been set up. Two plainclothes officers are coming to take Dax there,” he reported. He lowered his voice and asked, “How’s he holding up?”

  Eliza glanced at the stairs Dax had gone up and exhaled a weary breath. “He’s handling it as well as anyone would. He’s shaken up, feels violated, and is afraid, especially given that two of his closest friends were murdered in the last week.” She stopped, then murmured, “He’s not himself, Billy.”

  “Damn,” Billy said quietly. “So what happened?”

  Eliza caught him up on the chain of events leading up to the 911 call.

  Once he was up to speed, he asked, “Any idea who would have done it?”

  Eliza shook her head. “No clue, but I’m hoping the security footage will be more helpful than what was taken at Angelique and Simon’s apartments. We also have the access logs, so that will be beneficial. Once Dax leaves for the safe house, we can go talk to the crime scene guys and see what that letter says.”

  Billy grinned at her.

  “What?”

  “You called him Dax. In fact, you said his name several times while bringing me up to speed, and you also said it while you were talking to Lin. Shit, you said it when you called me earlier.”

  Eliza glowered at him. “Well, it is his name.”

  Billy gave a conciliatory nod. “I know it is, but you’ve been adamant about not using it.”

  “He’s been through a lot tonight,
Billy,” she said, gesturing towards the stairs. “Stop being an ass and go do something.”

  “Fine. I’ll arrange to have someone come over and watch the place until we’re done with it,” Billy said, chuckling to himself as he exited the apartment.

  Eliza glared at his back as he walked away. She was annoyed that he had pointed out her use of Dax’s name. It was unnecessary; addressing him by his name had been her way of showing him empathy. Billy had read too much into it. Irritated, Eliza went into the kitchen to take a look at the island the package had been sitting on.

  ◊◊◊

  Twenty minutes later, she was on the phone speaking with Captain Espinoza when Dax came down the stairs carrying a suitcase. He also had a backpack strapped to his back.

  She quickly ended the call and walked over to him. “You pack a lot for a week.”

  “I’m high-maintenance,” Dax countered dryly.

  Recognizing he still wasn’t in a stellar mood, Eliza said, “The officers outside are going to take you to the safe house.”

  “All right.” He pressed his lips together. “Eliza...”

  The use of her name combined with the gentleness of his deep voice caused everything to come to a standstill inside Eliza as she focused on him.

  “I want to thank you for everything. It means a lot to me. I know I can be a pain, but you doing this—going above and beyond for me—is incredible. I’ll never forget it.”

  For a long moment, Eliza lost the ability to string together words to form a coherent sentence, rendered speechless by the open sincerity glistening in Dax’s eyes. He wasn’t flirting with her, nor was he being overtly sexual. This side of him was a hazard, and Eliza had to get away from it.

  “You’re welcome, Dax.” She pointed in the direction of the front door. “Officer Baker and his partner are waiting for you.”

  Dax gave her a smile, then made his way to the door.

  Eliza mentally swore at herself. A soft-spoken, authentic Dax had put her in a mental whirlwind, but the care she felt for him grew because of it. The soft emotions she was developing towards him had Eliza irritated with herself, and she went on a mental rant about how unnecessary and inappropriate the feelings were.

  7

  Three days later, a weary Eliza walked up the sidewalk, heading towards a brownstone that was in a quiet neighborhood of the Upper West Side. She and Billy had been working hard for the last few days, trying to find the person that had broken into Dax’s apartment, but as with the events surrounding Simon and Angelique’s deaths, it seemed like they were dealing with another ghost.

  The security videos from Dax’s building showed a woman with dark hair entering the main entrance a quarter after midnight, and Eliza and Billy had matched the timestamp on it to the access logs they had gotten. When they found the entry card that was used around the same time as the woman’s appearance, Eliza and Billy had discovered the card was linked to an apartment on the same floor as Dax’s, but that was as far as their luck had gone.

  The apartment was owned by a leasing company that provided short-term living spaces to people and companies. Eliza had spoken with the manager of the company, and the woman had been uncooperative and rude, so when she had presented her with a warrant for their leasing records, Eliza had been nothing but smug. Once the needed documents had been acquired, Eliza and Billy discovered the company’s apartment had been rented out for three months to a Molly Higgins, who had paid for the unit by wiring funds from an offshore account.

  Getting information on the account was something Billy was currently working on, but Eliza knew they weren’t going to get the information they needed. Caribbean financial centers required law enforcement to go through a lot of red tape before sending any records. The information on Molly Higgins herself, though, hadn’t been hard to find; there wasn’t anything to find. The information the leasing company had was either fabricated or had belonged to a deceased person.

  When she and Billy had run Molly’s image from the security video through facial recognition software, no hits were found. They had struck another wall, and it pissed Eliza off. In a fit of anger and frustration, she had reported the leasing company to the New York Housing Authority for not running the proper background checks on their tenant. The task had given her a little satisfaction, but not much.

  Eliza had also gone to Pleasure Inc. to speak with Veronica, but the conversation hadn’t been productive. She had refused to believe that people associated with her organization were being targeted. Eliza had also inquired about her whereabouts the night Dax’s apartment had been broken into, and Veronica’s story had coincided with Dax’s—she also had an alibi, which checked out. Eliza let out an irritated huff.

  The lack of leads and the simple fact that Dax wasn’t on the Pleasure Inc. staff shifted her entire investigation away from the theory that the company was being targeted, and added another peculiar element to it. Eliza did recall that Dax had told her that he used their resources—whatever that meant—from time to time. So it could be possible that the killer thought he was associated with the firm if they had run into him there. Eliza had chased the thought around a few times, but never got anywhere with it. Then there was the preposterous idea of Dax orchestrating the entire event himself, which Eliza didn’t believe; there were too many things about him that suggested otherwise.

  Eliza pushed open the wrought iron gate that was built into the fence that enclosed the front yard. The worry she had been beating back the last few days finally reared its ugly head as she approached the front porch. Eliza scowled. It was one thing for her to be sympathetic towards Dax, but to be worried about him—and have that same worry interrupt her thoughts at inopportune times—was something entirely different and beyond rude. Defying that worry had been the main reason why she hadn’t checked on him before now—she hadn’t wanted to feed into it. But seeing Dax’s vulnerable side had done a number on her, and she wanted to make sure he was okay.

  “Fucking idiot,” Eliza muttered to herself as she climbed the stairs of the front porch. She pressed the doorbell, then took out her badge, showing it to the hidden camera installed in the decorative plate that surrounded the button for the doorbell. Moments later, the door was opened by an officer that she immediately recognized.

  “Officer Lin,” she said with a nod as she entered.

  “Detective.”

  Eliza took off her coat and hung it on the hook by the front door, glancing into the living room off the foyer. She didn’t see Dax. “How is he doing?”

  Officer Lin chuckled. “You didn’t tell me he was a charmer.” Eliza groaned inside her head. “He could charm the pants off a pantsless person.”

  This time, Eliza groaned out loud. “Please tell me he hasn’t been flirting with the on-duty officers.”

  Officer Lin didn’t say a word, and Eliza turned to face him, pinning him down with a pointed stare. He instantly responded to the look. “Detective, he flirts, but we just joke with him about it. That’s all we do.”

  Eliza shook her head and huffed in irritation. “Dax?” she called out.

  “Back here, Detective Legs,” he said from the back of the house.

  Eliza shook her head, ignoring the fact that she was no longer irritated by the nickname. However, if she thought too much about it, she would be.

  She made her way to the back of the house. As she did, she walked by a doorway, giving it a passing glance, but backed up when she saw Dax. She folded her arms across her chest and stood in the entryway.

  Dax sat in a black wing-backed armchair next to the fireplace, which had a roaring fire going in it. A book was balanced on his knee, and an almost-empty glass sat on the arm of the chair. He smiled at her. “To what do I owe this little visit?”

  “I came to check on you,” Eliza said as she walked into the den. “I hear you’re charming the pants off the officers that are assigned to protect you.”

  “Lies and slander,” Dax countered with a grin. He brought his glass up to
his lips and swallowed down the remainder of whatever he had been drinking. “I’ve only been making sure that they are well-fed. If an occasional flirt occurs, it’s because I’ve been locked up for so long.” The grin transformed into a beguiling smile. “There is only one law enforcement official who I would like to charm the pants off of.”

  The remark and the smile that accompanied it caused Eliza’s heart to beat a little faster, and she mentally swore at her body’s response to it. “I hope you know that you and Pleasure Inc. are the only connections I have in all this,” Eliza said tersely.

  Dax moved the book off his knee and placed it on the table next to the chair. “Oh? Are you telling me I am a suspect?”

  Eliza honestly didn’t know what she was telling him, or why she was going down this road. It was stupid, but the subject was the first thing that came to her mind when her body had betrayed her. “You are a person of interest.”

  Dax nodded. He placed his glass on the table next to the book and stood, closing the gap between he and Eliza a little. The shift from his formerly playful demeanor to a serious one was subtle, but his tone carried nothing but ice when he asked, “Tell me, Detective, what motive do you think I have for killing my friends?” Before Eliza could answer, he continued, anger lacing his words. “Angelique—a woman I had known since before I transitioned—meant the world to me. She gave me a home, taught me survival, trained me in a job I honestly didn’t know if I was cut out for, and loved me in ways I didn’t think anyone could.”

  “Simon,” he said, waving his arm, “was an absolute sweetheart. He would do anything for those he loved and cared about.” Dax’s eyes narrowed, and his voice rose as he finished, “So, tell me, Detective Miller, what fucking reason do I have for killing my friends?”

  The coarse language he had used stunned Eliza, and she stared at him as she recovered from the shock. Once she had, she met Dax’s anger with her own. “Why wouldn’t you, Dax? Getting rid of them gets rid of your competition. The firms are already a threat to you, so I can only imagine how much of a risk other sex workers are.”