Kasparov remembered the look on Bambi’s face as she talked to Marian. It seemed to be an endearing mix of apprehension and confidence that left her looking lost but unafraid. After a few moments he watched Marian lead Bambi to the back room where the girls get ready for their performances.
Several minutes later, Marian came out of the back and joined Kasparov at his table. He was an interesting man, both in appearance and personality. The man was short, just over five feet, and must have weighed about two-fifty. His face was round, although he had angular features and tan skin which gave him the appearance of someone foreign. He always liked to flirt with his regulars but was fiercely loyal to Ferdinand, the man he hoped to marry when it became legal to do so. He took a seat next to Kasparov and playfully squeezed his knee. At first it was unnerving, now it was odd if Marian didn’t make some sort of contact with Kasparov.
“Who is that girl?” Kasparov asked as he lit two cigarettes and passed one to his friend.
“Her name is Bernadette. She is in collage for business or something.” Marian replied. “She says she was hoping to earn some extra money and she heard that dancers make a lot. Apparently her parents are divorcing and now they can’t afford to pay for school. I’m not sure about her though.”
“What’s not to be sure about? That girl is gorgeous. I’m sure the customers would love her.” Kasparov questioned.
“Sure, she’s attractive, but she seems really shy, and she comes from a really high strung family. She’s back in the dressing room with Ginger. I told her I’d give her an audition, and if she was good enough, I’d hire her.” Marian explained.
“Why give her an audition if you don’t think she can do the job? You usually go with your first impression on these things.” Kasparov questioned further.
“She says she took pole dancing for several years as a form of exercise. She’s never stripped for anyone but her boyfriend. I can’t be sure that she will be any good, but I figure why not. Better than me getting up there and doing it. Unless you want me to, then it would be a hell of a show.” Marian loved to promise Kasparov dances. He thought it was funny. It may have been once, but it had become a constant in Marian’s conversations and no one else laughed anymore.
“So she’s got a man then?” Kasparov’s voice was less than enthusiastic. He had been drinking most of the morning and didn’t hide his disappointment well.
“Some guy from back east. She’s from New York I think, and he still lives there. She said he didn’t call much. If you ask me, she doesn’t seem to care about him one way or another. That said, I think she may be out of your league, Honey.” He replied. Marian extinguished his cigarette and looked up to the stage as the Bambi walked out.
She was a bit sheepish as she walked toward the front of the stage. She looked amazing. Ginger had dressed her in a long black lace robe that covered a corset, frilly underwear, and fishnets. Marian gestured to Ginger to play something and Bambi started dancing. Her dancing reminded Kasparov of a high school girl trying to excite her boyfriend. The way she moved was rigid and it was obvious she had not practiced a routine. Bambi was likely relying on her beauty to get her the job. It was worth noting that she handled a pair of stilettos well, despite her inexperience.
She dropped the robe on to the stage quickly and let down her hair. Her blonde hair had been curled and it fell in waves against her pale skin. She tried to be sexy as she rolled around on the stage and crawled. It wasn’t until she abandoned that effort and made her way to the pole, that the show got better. She was incredible. She had so much control in her movements as she wrapped herself around the thing. Everything Bambi lacked in her dancing she made up for when she showed off what she had learned all those years in her pole dancing class. As he watched, his excitement got the better of him.
“Take off your top!” Kasparov yelled. He knew she needed to get used to this type of thing. If he was honest he said it more out of a want to see her breasts and less for humor or to prepare her. Bambi stopped mid spin and slid down the pole. As she approached the front of the stage her long thin legs, tired from the pole, had a hard time maintaining control over the shoes she wore. She looked almost sad as she undid the front of the corset and let it fall from her. Kasparov felt bad for her in that moment. He realized she probably didn’t want to be here and regretted his forceful words. Despite his guilt, it was impossible to deny she looked great standing there exposed. He shifted in his seat to hide his erection.
Once she had finished her dance she went to get dressed. She wasn’t necessarily good with the strip tease, but she understood the basics and the rest would come with training. Her ability to work the pole was, on the other hand, incredible. On stage she was uncomfortably sexy and that made Kasparov want her even more. He imagined her staggering in her heels toward him, slowly getting undressed as he sat on his bed and watched. It was a quiet fantasy he would later recall countless times.
As she was getting dressed, Marian lit two more cigarettes and passed one to Kasparov. They sat and just enjoyed the smoke for a bit. Marian worked a lot and had started to slow down a bit. It wouldn’t be long before he would be handing the operations aspect of the business to his sister. In anticipation, he often sat and enjoyed mentally planning his retirement. Kasparov, on the other hand, was mentally planning how he would get Bambi to go home with him.
“So what do you think, Scott?” Marian asked, breaking the silence. “Do you think she can learn?”
“I think a girl that pretty and that good on the pole can do anything. If she can get a good routine going she can fake it for a bit until she picks up the rest of it.” Kasparov replied.
“You might be right. I’ll go get her paperwork started. Flag her over and tell her to wait with you while I go and get that together.” Marian said as he stood and snuffed out his cigarette only half smoked. He walked off and disappeared in to his office.
A few moments later Bambi came out from the dressing room and Kasparov flagged her over. She walked slowly and looked a bit embarrassed. This must have been difficult for her. He considered telling her to leave, that she hadn’t gotten the job and was free to find something that made her more comfortable. He didn’t. He wanted to see her dance, and he wanted to see her slowly undress, he wanted to know her intimately and if she walked out that door he would lose his chance. She was an adult and this was after all, her choice.
“Marian went to get some papers for you to sign. Have a seat.” Kasparov started as he lit another cigarette. “Look Bambi, you weren’t great out there, I’m not going to lie to you. You have a lot to learn, but the girls here will teach you. You can’t let modesty get in the way. This is a strip club; you’re going to have to strip. If that’s not for you, you know where the door is.”
“I understand. I’m not used to it yet but I’m a quick study. Oh, and my name is Bernadette.” Bambi corrected.
“So?” Kasparov asked her.
“Why did you call me Bambi, my name is Bernadette?” She replied.
“Well, watching you out there, so cute and innocent, stumbling a bit in those heels, your long legs, big beautiful eyes, you remind me of Bambi.” Kasparov answered. “Besides, you need a stage name. There are a lot of creeps who would look you up and harm you.”
“Oh, like you?” Bambi replied.
“Nice one, kid.” Kasparov laughed. “No, seriously, be careful up there. I am a police officer and I see a lot of things that you don’t want to imagine. And of all the positions I’d like to see you in, dead in some creeps basement isn’t one of them. I don’t want to have to be the one to call your family and tell them what happened to you because you didn’t protect yourself.”
“I don’t know if I should be grateful for the advice or a little creeped out about you wanting to see me in certain “Positions”. I know what I’m getting myself in to, but I appreciate your concern. I’m tougher than I look.” Bambi replied with a smile.
“Well, alright then.” He replied as he reached his han
d toward her and pushed a bit of hair from her face. He looked deep in to her eyes and for a moment just stared. Just as he began to lean forward to kiss her, Marian sat down, pulling them from the trance they had given in to. Or at least Kasparov had.
“Bernadette, I need you to fill out these forms and I will need to get a copy of your driver’s license and your social security card. Also it is mandatory here, for safety reasons, that you choose a stage name. If you can’t choose one, we will provide one. This name cannot be changed as long as you work here. It helps to cut down confusion among the patrons, you see.” Marian was verifying all the papers he had printed were there before continuing. “What is your chosen name?”
“Bambi” She replied with a smile.
“Bambi, huh? Alright, Bambi it is.” He replied. “Please read over every document here, if you have any questions please ask. Once you sign these papers you are agreeing to the rules and regulations of our establishment, the terms and conditions of your employment, and the state and federal laws that can protect or harm you that apply to employment here.”
Bambi carefully read each page and signed everything. She looked studious as she reviewed the documents. Everyone in a while she would pause and take a moment to re-read things she felt were important.
“I think I have signed everything.” She confirmed.
Kasparov sat and watched his breath for a few moments. Remembering his first encounter with Bambi was hard. And he knew he could have told her, right then and there, she was better than a dancer at Marian’s. He had gone through the autopsy report and seen the tox screen. He had always hoped Bambi was clean for good, but part of him knew she wouldn’t be. Bambi had been hooked for a few years and whenever she got clean, it never lasted long. He started to shake and couldn’t be sure if it was the cold or the memories.
About six months in to her employment at Marian’s, Bambi started using. At first it was to fit in with some of the other girls and then it became a real problem. A year later she had become a crass, belligerent addict. Kasparov had to arrest her more than once for drugs and prostitution but she didn’t care. She had a habit. One night, after she hadn’t been seen in a week, he found her in an alley. She had been jumped for her stash. The group of guys who assaulted her had beaten her up pretty badly and she didn’t want to go home. At the time, she was staying with friends.
Instead of taking her back home, they agreed she would stay the night at Kasparov’s apartment and in the morning she would check in to a rehab. It was what happened that night that Kasparov hated himself for. Back at the apartment Bambi was itching for a fix. She had intended on shooting up after she made a deal for her boyfriend. Kasparov knew he had to put aside his badge and hit the streets looking for another dealer. After strong arming the guy, he managed to get Bambi just enough for the night.
When he got back he prepared the drug and injected it for her. She was shaking so bad, he worried she would do more damage doing it herself. Once she had her fix, Bambi sat for a while and cried. It was about an hour before she stopped. Kasparov went and covered her with a blanket and took a seat on a nearby chair. He watched her carefully, worry in his eyes. Bambi was relieved to have gotten her fix and decided she wanted to repay Kasparov for what he had done for her. She picked herself up just enough to crawl over to him and move her hands across the front of his pants. He tried to tell her it wasn’t right but she had already unbuckled his belt and had made to pull down his zipper. She wanted so desperately to thank him in the only way she knew how.
He had wanted her for so long he couldn’t resist her advances. He ravaged her that night for hours. Afterwards she cried again. Kasparov asked if she felt violated, he was so afraid he had done something to hurt her. He knew deep down that he had. But instead she told him, “I violated myself by getting in to this mess. Last night was about gratitude. These tears aren’t for you, they are for me.” After that she got dressed and left. It was a few weeks later Kasparov heard she hadn’t gone to rehab and she was living with her dealer. She was paying him in what she called gratitude.
Kasparov wept on the stone steps of the police station. He wanted to yell at his younger self for letting her stay at Marian’s, for getting her drugs, for sleeping with her, and for not taking her to rehab himself. It was too much for Kasparov to stomach. He stood up and grasped the cold metal rim of the trash can. He began to heave violently but nothing had come out. The force of his retching had left him breathless and suffocating against his own gagging. Relief came a moment later as he felt stomach acid burning his esophagus on its way out of him. He didn’t want to stop until all the ugliness in him and all the awful memories were gone. But life is never that kind. He would have to live with his decisions for the rest of his life. Bambi was dead because of him.
The air had gotten even more still somehow. It was as if something big was about to happen and Kasparov felt it. He sat back on the steps and lit up another cigarette. Looking out over the lot he admired the reflections in the glass like layer that had covered the asphalt. He tried to remember what Bambi’s criminal record looked like, but the only thing he could remember was his own deeds that led to it.
Kasparov exhaled leaving a mixture of fog and smoke hanging in the air. A light sound caught Kasparov’s attention and he looked around. It had begun to snow. Just a few stray flurries hanging in the air before landing in the mirror of water that rest on the ground. It reminded him of life. It can be beautiful, but fleeting, and in the end, meaningless.
As he reflected on his thoughts a car pulled up causing waves that shattered the glass parking lot and rippled out to the edge. It was an expensive looking car, although Kasparov wasn’t sure what kind it was. The snow had begun to pick up making it harder to see in to the dark parking lot. As the vehicle sat there, Kasparov stood to move under the awning. He wanted to see who was in the car and he hoped it would be easier to do if something was blocking the snow from his eyes.
The silver car door opened and light reflected off the flurries that danced in the air. He put his hand to his side to feel for his pistol. After what happened to Bambi, he needed to be ready for anything.
“Ease up, Scott.” Called a familiar voice as Diamond walked up to him. Her dark skin stood out in such a way against the snow that she looked like she was being illuminated by nature itself as she came in to view. He hoped she was coming to see him about something unrelated to what had happened. He wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about Bambi. ”I brought over those tapes your friend asked for, the ones from tonight. I hope they help.”
“Thanks, Diamond.” Kasparov replied. “I’ll get these up to him right now. We have a lot of work to do but I promise to see you soon.”
“Hey, Scott, what happened tonight? You look rough and Bambi still hasn’t been released.” Diamond asked. Her voice was heavy with worry and Kasparov knew that he wasn’t ready to tell her what had happened. He wasn’t sure he was ready to admit it entirely himself.
Rather than face the truth he turned to go inside and pretended not to hear her. It was impossible not to notice that she was hurt by him brushing her off like he had. It was also likely she still didn’t know what had really happened to Bambi. When she does hear about it, she would understand his reservations about answering her question. Kasparov closed the door to the station behind him and made his way to his desk. Without speaking he handed Lofgren the tapes and made himself some coffee. He wanted to compare the tapes to try to figure out if the guy they were after is the same one who killed Bambi. He had to know and wasn’t going to sleep again until he did.
VI.
It had been hours since Diamond had brought the surveillance footage from the club. Neither Kasparov nor Lofgren wanted to stop looking for anything to point toward a resolution. According to the tapes sent over from Marian’s and the time the feed from the cell was cut, it was unlikely that Jared committed the crime. Unlikely, but not impossible. It would be difficult to do what he did and get to the club in time but it was poss
ible if he didn’t run in to any complications. Lofgren had seen a situation in Cherry Hill that was similar to this one and could find no doubt within himself that it was Jared who had been in the room with Ms. Hodge. They had sent off the request for an arrest warrant but it would take time.
“I’m starving” Lofgren mentioned casually to Kasparov. “Do you want to go grab something to eat? I need to pick up a few things from my hotel room before we go to arrest Jared anyway.”
“I could eat. What were you thinking for food?” Kasparov asked as he closed his notebook and slipped it in to his jacket pocket.
“I don’t know where anything is around here. What’s good?” Lofgren replied.
“Well we have a lot of places.” Kasparov began. “The bar on 18th street has great burgers, there is a dinner nearby that has a pretty good soup selection, and fast food restaurants are all over the place downtown. I can drive. I know where most everything is.”
Lofgren was used to eating a certain way and he wasn’t interested in anything Kasparov had mentioned. The idea of fast food made his stomach turn. It was bad enough he had stale prepackaged donuts the night before. He used the computer and found somewhere he approved of. “How about Oishī? It looks pretty good. Do you like Japanese steakhouses? I’ll pay.”
“I’ve never been to one. I had a girl awhile back that asked me to go, but I never got around to it. I guess it be can’t much different than Chinese food. Well, who am I to turn down a free meal. Let’s go.” Kasparov agreed.
Since the restaurant was across the street from Lofgren’s hotel they stopped there before walking over to get an early lunch. The room was large and filled with books and various oddities. Lofgren never went anywhere without first making sure he was prepared for what awaited him. On the table in the corner of the room was a box of handmade bullets he had crafted before leaving for Landsford. They were infused with silver and had taken him some time to perfect. Lofgren had hoped they would help with anything that might go wrong during the investigation.
Yearling Investigation Archives (Book 1): Sanguine Page 6