Hot Lights, Cold Steel

by D P Lyle

Alejandro looked down and saw two bandages, one high, one low, both on the right side of his belly. A patch of red stained the upper one.

  He watched as she loosened the bandage. “Not bad.” She rolled a metallic stand piled with gauze and instruments to the side of his bed. “I’ll put on a new dressing.”

  While Darlene worked, removing the tape and gauze, swabbing on an astringent-smelling red liquid, and taping a new bandage into place, Alejandro put together bits and pieces of his memory. Slowly, it all came back.

  What had Austin said about money? About selling him and Carmelita to that doctor? Four grand? If he and Lefty got that, then Rocco got a lot more. That was why Rocco kept them alive. It wasn’t for information he knew they didn’t have. It was money. Wasn’t that always what it was with Rocco? That fat fuck.

  “Who did this to me? Who were those two men?”

  Darlene brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. The good little nurse. “All in good time. Right now you need your rest.”

  CHAPTER 41

  SUNDAY 12:09 A.M.

  T-TOMMY AND I PLAYED A HUNCH. IF MADISON HAD BEGUN HER shift at six, then she just might get off at midnight. Worth a try, anyway. We sat in my Porsche and waited. The rain came a bit harder for a few minutes but then stopped abruptly. I nudged the wiper control, giving the windshield a swipe.

  The parking area still contained nearly a hundred cars and trucks. A hooded light over a side door and three lampposts scattered through the lot offered the only islands of light, everything else shadowy. We were parked in one of the shadows, partially shielded by a jacked-up dually pickup.

  Three girls came out of the side door and headed to their cars. A few minutes later, two more. None were Madison. I was about ready to admit our hunch was wrong when T-Tommy said, “Well, well, well.”

  Madison came out with another girl. She now wore jeans and a red sweater, loose, wide necked, one shoulder exposed, a small duffel bag slung over the other. I glanced at the dash clock—12:11.

  She waved to the other girl and wound through the parked cars, avoiding the collections of rainwater, until she reached a Toyota SUV, one hand digging into her bag.

  The side door opened again, and Lefty came out. He hurried across the lot, reaching Madison just as her vehicle flashed and barked, now unlocked. She opened the door, but Lefty closed it. They appeared to talk for a few seconds before he grabbed her arm. She tried to pull away, but he held on.

  We got out of the Porsche and walked in their direction.

  “I was you I wouldn’t do that,” T-Tommy said.

  Lefty’s head jerked toward us. “This is none of your business.”

  “Is now,” I said. I looked at Madison. “He bothering you?”

  “No,” she said. “It’s okay.”

  “Don’t look that way to me.” T-Tommy stopped within three feet of Lefty. “Let the lady go.”

  “Fuck you,” Lefty said, a hand slipping inside his coat.

  These guys seemed hell-bent on making bad choices. Even expecting it I didn’t see it. In a heartbeat, T-Tommy had Lefty’s gun in his hand and a fist buried into the man’s stomach.

  Lefty dropped to his knees, coughing, gasping, retching.

  “You don’t listen so good, do you?” T-Tommy said.

  T-Tommy passed the weapon to me, while Lefty struggled to his feet.

  “You got a habit of losing this thing,” I said. Lefty had reloaded, so again I snapped the clip from the gun and ejected the chambered round. “Maybe I should just keep it.” I stared at him as I thumbed the bullets from the clip. One by one they clicked against the asphalt. I handed the gun back to him. “Now, get your ass inside before T-Tommy gets really pissed.”

  “You’ll pay for this.” Lefty wobbled toward the door, massaging his gut, glancing at us a couple of times.

  “You okay?” I asked Madison.

  “Yeah.” She opened the door to her Toyota. “You better get out of here. He’ll be back in a minute with Austin and a handful of the others.”

  “How about some coffee?” I asked.

  “Not a chance. You’ve already caused enough trouble.”

  I pushed the door closed with my hip and leaned against it. A little rainwater soaked through my jeans. It felt cool. I ignored it. “Okay. We’ll just chat right here.”

  “No. You . . . I got to get out of here before he comes back.”

  T-Tommy crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Don’t see that happening.”

  “Who the fuck are you guys?”

  “Coffee?”

  Madison exhaled loudly. “Okay. If we leave right now.”

  “We’ll follow you.”

  CHAPTER 42

  SUNDAY 12:22 A.M.

  ALEJANDRO NEEDED A PLAN. RATHER, ANOTHER PLAN. THE LAST one hadn’t worked out so well. The one sure thing was that as damaged as he was, it was only going to get worse. More surgery until he was dead. He knew. He’d buried the bodies.

  He was angry with himself for not seeing the entire picture. For simply doing as he was told. For taking the money without question. He knew the bodies had to come from somewhere. He knew Rocco was involved. He knew Rocco wouldn’t do anything that didn’t put money in his pocket. Rocco always had plans within plans. Yet it never occurred to Alejandro that Rocco was selling victims to these people, whoever the hell they were.

  Of course, he also knew things could come back on him. That burying bodies could leave him vulnerable. Not to this—he would never have imagined this—but to something. That’s why he had his insurance papers safely hidden. But to use them, to buy his way out, he needed to be on the street.

  “What time is it?” he asked.

  Darlene was behind the curtain, checking on Carmelita. “A little after midnight. Hard to tell day from night down here in the basement.”

  Good. It was night.

  Alejandro tested the restraints. Very little give. He examined the straps that looped around his wrists and ankles. The same type of buckled, wide, leather bands that earlier had bound him to the surgical table. He had seen these before, anchoring his friend Pedro to a stretcher in an Arizona ER. Wild on peyote, Pedro had fought and strained and cursed and spit, but the restraints never weakened their grip. The nurses finally grew weary of his antics and sedated him.

  Bottom line: Alejandro couldn’t rip his way free and couldn’t release the buckles himself.

  A man walked by the windows, opened the door, and stuck his head in. He wore a uniform of some type. Gray and blue. No badge. A name tag, too far away for Alejandro to read. “Want some coffee, Darlene? I’m falling asleep out front, so I thought I’d brew a fresh pot.”

  “That’d be great.”

  “It’ll take about twenty minutes. Everything okay here?”

  “Just fine.”

  “See you in a few.” The door closed, and the guard walked past the window.

  Okay. Think. Twenty minutes to get free and set a trap. Alejandro twisted and tugged against the bonds. If he could get just one hand loose. Wasn’t going to happen. He pulled his right hand against the strap until it squeezed his wrist. He held it there as he felt pressure build in his hand.

  Darlene came around the curtain. “She’s doing just fine.”

  “My hand’s asleep,” Alejandro said. “It feels cold and numb.”

  Darlene touched his hand. “It is a little swollen.” She worked a finger beneath the restraint. “It may be tight, but it’s okay.”

  “My hand’s aching. It’s too tight.”

  “Okay, okay.” She unfastened the buckle and loosened the strap.

  Alejandro wrenched his arm free and slammed the side of his hand against her throat. Darlene gasped, stunned. He clutched a wad of her hair and yanked her down on his chest. She tried to scream, but her throat apparently wouldn’t cooperate, the blow having done some damage. She writhed against him and banged her fist on his face, chest, belly, anything she could strike. A fiery pain shot through his gut as his abdominal muscles
tightened against her blows. She managed to turn her body, her back now to him, and stretched out a hand toward the nearby instrument tray.

  He jerked her head back violently and then let go of her hair, immediately wrapping his hand around her throat. He pulled her tightly against him. Her thrashing and his struggles to control her sent a shock of pain through his belly. Stinging sweat leaked into his eyes followed by a wave of nausea and dizziness. Hold on.

  Darlene attempted to pry him from her throat, but he held his grip. Her face reddened, then purpled. Her struggles became more frantic, but he only tightened his hold. Another minute and her eyes glazed over. Her struggles weakened, and finally he felt her muscles go lax. He held his stranglehold for another fifteen seconds and then let go. She slid to the floor.

  Alejandro knew he had a minute, not much more, before she came around. He released the straps from his other arm and his ankles. Ignoring the pain that continued to burn in his gut, he slipped from the bed. The room felt cold against his bare skin. Another pulse of dizziness dropped him to his knees. He felt blood trickle down his arm and saw that the IV needle had been yanked free.

  Darlene moaned and moved her head from side to side, natural color returning to her face. He swiped a roll of tape from the tray. Rolling her to her stomach, he pulled her arms behind her back and wound the tape around her wrists, binding them together, and rolled her to her back again. He then wrapped her ankles with tape.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she looked around, at first unfocused, appearing confused, but then her gaze fixed on him. She opened her mouth to scream.

  Alejandro clamped his hand over her face. “Listen to me. Cooperate. And you live. One sound, one move, and I’ll kill you. Clear?”

  She attempted to bite his hand, so he struck her on the side of the head with his other fist. “You want to die? Right here? Like this?”

  Darlene shook her head, her eyes wide with terror.

  “Then do what I say. Exactly what I say.”

  She nodded.

  He took a stack of gauze from the tray, removed his hand from her mouth, and began stuffing the gauze inside. She resisted until he clutched her throat. “Don’t move.” He wrapped tape around her head, securing the gauze in place. Grabbing her feet, he dragged her beyond the curtain and to the far side of Carmelita’s bed. The pain in his belly flared, and when he looked down, he saw that both bandages were soaked with fresh blood. Sweat frosted his face and chest. Placing his lips near Darlene’s ear, he said, “Not a sound.”

  Alejandro stood, fighting off another wave of dizziness. He glanced at Carmelita. The only movement he saw was the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as the ventilator cycled. He shook her arm but got no response. No time to deal with her right now.

  He walked around the curtain, found a towel, and wiped the blood from his arm and hand, the IV site now barely oozing. He riffled through the instruments on the tray, searching for a weapon. He settled on a pair of pointed scissors. As he climbed back into bed, he saw that blood from the saturated bandages trickled down his belly and right leg. He stretched out and pulled the sheet up to his chest, making sure his right arm and the scissors were covered.

  CHAPTER 43

  SUNDAY 12:32 A.M.

  T-TOMMY AND I FOLLOWED MADISON DOWN UNIVERSITY DRIVE, past the UAH campus, and then south on Jordan Lane. She parked in the side lot of a twenty-four-hour diner called Mac’s. We took a red vinyl booth snugged against a wall of windows and ordered coffee. As the waitress filled our cups, I asked Madison, “Something to eat?”

  “No thanks,” she said.

  I looked at the waitress. “Just coffee for me.”

  “Two over easy and some wheat toast,” T-Tommy said. “Bacon. A couple of pancakes would be nice, too.”

  “So, who are you guys?” Madison asked.

  “I’m Dub. This is T-Tommy.”

  “What kind of name is that?”

  “Mine,” T-Tommy said.

  She was an even more attractive young lady in civilian clothes. I’d guess early twenties, green eyes, a natural beauty. The stripper’s life hadn’t beaten her down yet. It would but not yet. I noticed a series of faint white lines on her left wrist. Palm side. Remnants from an unhappy time, no doubt.

  Madison apparently followed my gaze and tugged the sleeve of her sweater down, clasping it in her hand. “Stupid, huh?”

  “You probably didn’t think so at the time,” I said.

  Her face softened a bit. “I was fourteen. Seemed like the only way out.”

  “Glad you missed the trip.”

  Madison smiled. “All hell broke loose. Mom had no idea what was going on with her new husband. My stepfather. At least I don’t think she did.” She sighed. “She took me to three different shrinks. I trashed them all. They were more messed up than me.”

  “Does seem that way, don’t it?” T-Tommy said.

  “So what happened then?” I asked.

  “I decided he wasn’t worth it. That he was the damaged one. Not me.” She pushed her sleeves up to her elbows and propped them on the table. “I went back to school, got a part-time job, and bided my time. Took over a year, but I saved enough money to split.”

  “Sorry,” I said.

  The rain and wind kicked up, fat drops now slapping the windows. Lightning streaked the sky, and Mother Nature cleared her throat with rolls of thunder. A car pulled up, headlamps aimed at us. One of the waitresses, apparently completing her shift, hurried through the front door and around the corner of the building toward the car, a folded newspaper serving as an umbrella. She hopped in, and the car backed away.

  Madison watched all this through the window, then leaned back, arms crossed over her chest. “So you guys got names. That doesn’t tell me who you are.”

  “I’m looking for the person who killed the daughter of a friend,” I said. “T-Tommy’s a cop.”

  “Great. This is exactly what I need.” She took a sip of coffee and then placed her cup on the table. “This involves me how?”

  “You know Alejandro and Eddie.”

  “So? I know a couple of jerks who come in sometimes.”

  “What do you know about them?” I asked.

  “They’re poor tippers. Eddie tries to grab my tits all the time.”

  The waitress returned with T-Tommy’s food. “Sure I can’t get you guys something?”

  Madison and I declined. The waitress turned and headed back to the kitchen.

  “Do you know a girl named Noel Edwards?” I asked.

  She shook her head and then picked up her cup and cradled it in her hands.

  “Crystal Robinson?”

  “Sure. She dances at the club.”

  “Not anymore,” T-Tommy said around a mouthful of pancake.

  Madison looked over her cup. “Why? Did she get a better gig?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “She’s dead.”

  Her face paled, and her pupils widened. “What do you mean?”

  “She’s dead. Murdered. Along with Noel. Our friend.” I didn’t want to come right at her like this, but I had to break through that wall. All strippers did that. Part of the job. I needed to find a sliver of light if we were going to get anywhere. I noticed a slight tremble in her fingers as she placed her cup on the table.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  I shrugged. “I could call the coroner. He did the autopsy.”

  Her eyes moistened. “I don’t understand. What the hell are you two after?”

  “The person who killed them.”

  “You think Eddie and Alejandro did it?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But not likely.”

  “Then why are you looking for them?” Madison asked.

  “We’re only looking for Alejandro. We know where Eddie is.”

  “I’m not going to like this much either, am I?”

  “Eddie is on the slab at the coroner’s office. Bullet through his brain.”

  A tear slid down her cheek.

  I gra
bbed a couple of napkins from the dispenser and handed them to her.

  Madison wiped her eyes. “I knew something was wrong.”

  T-Tommy’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. We both stared at her.

  “Last Wednesday night. They were both there . . . at the club. Eddie had a hard-on for another dancer. A friend.”

  “Carmelita?” I asked.

  She looked surprised. “Yeah.”

  “What’s her last name?”

  “Hidalgo.”

  “And?”

  Madison pushed her hands through her hair and looked down. “I don’t fucking believe this.”

  “Tell us about it,” I said.

  She dropped her hands into her lap. “Carmelita left with them. Around eleven. Took off early. She was going to screw Eddie for a couple hundred bucks and some cheap ring. Didn’t make sense. She could make that in a few hours dancing and not have to put up with his shit.”

  “Then why?”

  “She did it all the time. She liked the idea of screwing for money. Thrills, I guess. I don’t know.” Madison laced her fingers around her coffee cup. “She tried to get me to go along. For Alejandro.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Some of us don’t fuck the customers.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Right.” She started to say something else but hesitated, letting it come together. “Besides, this was different.”

  I waited. She needed to get her mind around it. Get it out her way. I could feel her tension rise, her gaze unable to find an anchor. Her pupils did a slow flare.

  “Oh, fuck me.” Madison shook her head, and tears pooled in her eyes. “Carmelita said Eddie was going to show her two dead bodies.”

  “What?” T-Tommy and I said at the same time.

  She pressed the napkins against her eyes and sniffed sharply. “Eddie told her he was some big hit man or something. He’s full of it. I told her he was. But she wanted to see the bodies. She’d never seen a dead person before.” She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “I haven’t seen her since.”

  “That unusual? Her disappearing for a couple of days?”

  Madison nodded. “Carmelita’s very reliable. Not like Crystal. She’s a flake and a druggy. Carmelita missed her shift last night and again tonight. She never does that.”