by Marcia James
Dalton doubted what was bothering Suzi was just a pissed-off customer. Before he could ask her however, the deli cashier called his number. He rose and went to retrieve his lunch special. When he returned, Suzi had her cop face on.
“I don’t have much time,” she said. “Let’s discuss the case.”
Dalton nodded, deciding to quiz Suzi later if she still seemed upset. This case could depress anyone but he wanted to make sure she wasn’t in over her head at the club.
He took a bite of the delicious mashed potatoes and savored the flavor. Then he chowed down on the meatloaf as Suzi pulled a steno pad from her bag and flipped through several pages. Dalton was an expert at reading upside down, a valued skill for a cop, but Suzi took notes in Korean. Even if the club’s killers found the notebook, they’d need a translator to read it.
“Captain Bennett had some interesting news this morning.” Suzi caught his attention with those words. “According to a friend of his on the New York force, our local DEA office has shown a lot of interest in the Cabazone family recently.”
“No kidding.” Dalton set down his fork.
“They’ve requested copies of phone tap transcripts.” Suzi looked up from her notes with a grim smile.
“What a coincidence.” He experienced the excitement he always felt when a lead panned out.
“Yep, the captain thought so too,” she said. “That’s why he’s also put in a request for the transcripts. Hopefully, his friend can facilitate the red tape on this one.”
“While the department’s chasing down that angle, why don’t I tail some of the club’s movers and shakers?” Dalton asked.
She considered for a moment. “I’ve checked out a lot of the employees, you know. Some are slimeballs, but I think the only one person worth tailing right now is Clyde Salvi.”
“The club manager?”
“Yeah. He’s one cold son of a bitch.” Suzi shuddered. “And watch out for his Doberman. It’s almost as nasty as he is.”
Suzi slipped a folded piece of paper out of her purse and passed it across the table to Dalton. “Here’s his rap sheet—mostly petty shit while he was a kid. And I wrote his current address on the back.”
Dalton turned over the rap sheet to see the address. “This is off Connecticut Avenue near the Washington Cathedral.”
Suzi nodded. “Just a few blocks from that drug-related, double homicide you were working last weekend.”
He looked at her face, shining with the thrill of the hunt. “Another coincidence.”
“Yeah. Amazing, isn’t it?” She smiled her first real smile since he’d arrived at the deli.
“We’re going to get these bastards.” Dalton slipped the rap sheet into his jacket pocket. “I’ll start tailing Salvi tonight.”
In unison, they plunged into their lunches. Dalton felt anticipation spurring his appetite. Soon, very soon, he was going to get these cop killers. Then finally, he’d be able to keep his promise to himself to avenge Jason.
* * * * *
Domino opened the door leading from the employee parking lot to the club and casually glanced down the hallway before crossing the threshold. A quick pat on her thigh brought Smokey to heel. When the tiny dog was inside, she closed the steel door against the February chill. Damn, another waste of time.
On the excuse of taking the dog for a potty break, Dom had walked Smokey down the rows of parked cars. Unfortunately, the drug-sniffing pooch hadn’t uncovered any trunks filled with heroin or hubcaps stuffed with cocaine. The only time Smokey had performed his pointed-paw routine was next to Ellen’s car. And Domino already knew her coworker smoked dope. Still, the parking lot was accessible and Dom had to use her canine partner to sweep as much of the club’s property as she could.
Smokey sneezed and Dom watched the black-sweatered dog shake melting snowflakes off his feathery head and tail fur. Fishing for some tissues in her coat pocket, she bent down and quickly dried off the dog before feeding him one of the dog treats she’d brought from home. If Smokey caught a cold, his special olfactory talents would be useless. Besides, the silly thing was growing on her and she didn’t want him to get sick.
Straightening, she patted her thigh again and Smokey fell in step. Heading down the hall to the right, Domino peered inside the first open room. Having memorized the club’s layout, she knew this was a hot tub room but the décor surprised her. The ceiling, walls and floor resembled a grotto and fragrant rainforest plants thrived in the steam from the sunken hot tub. For customers with a tropical fantasy, this would be a hit.
In one corner of the room, manmade vines hung from the ceiling, cleverly designed to serve as a love swing. From her research, Dom knew such a swing took gravity out of the sexual equation. An occupant could lean back in the webbing, letting the swing hold his or her weight and be open to all sorts of pleasure. In addition, the swing could be raised or lowered depending on the sex act being performed. It was one of the few props in the club Domino was tempted to try. Of course, she’d have to find the right sexual partner first. With a sigh, she focused again on the investigation.
“Smokey.” Dom spoke the dog’s name quietly to get his attention then made the subtle hand gesture signaling him to make a sweep. The dog circled the room with methodical care, examining everything within his reach. After a few minutes, Smokey returned to her and waited for his next instruction. She slipped him a small doggy treat and led him down the hallway.
This evening at home, she would add the results of this search to her highlighted blueprint of the club. Hopefully, she’d be able to do a sweep of all the rooms within the next week. The trick was finding a time when they were unoccupied.
She walked past S&M Room Five with Smokey at her side. The next open door was a massage room. Suzi, the new masseuse, was readying the room for her next client.
“How’s it going?” Dom asked.
The attractive Korean woman looked up from her rack of scented aromatherapy oils and smiled. “Pretty good. I think I’m finally getting a grip on the job.”
Domino groaned at the pun, prompting a laugh from Suzi.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” the masseuse said. “C’mon in if you have time and keep me company. I just heard my four o’clock is running late.”
Domino entered the room and Suzi noticed the dog for the first time. “What’s this?” She came forward to pet Smokey. “A mouse on steroids? Please don’t tell me one of your customers wants animals in his session.”
“I’m watching my sister’s Chinese Crested hairless dog for a couple weeks,” Dom explained. “I wouldn’t subject him to my clients. Besides, the club draws the line at using live animals.”
“Oh but it’s okay to make a twenty-person Dagwood sandwich in the mattress rooms,” Suzi joked.
“Sure, those are consenting, if perverted, adults.”
Domino and Suzi smiled in recognition of another sane human in a surrealistic world. Dom had felt an instant rapport when she’d first met the irreverent masseuse and was sorry she couldn’t be aboveboard with Suzi. When the woman turned to place several bottles of massage oil back on the shelves, Domino gave Smokey the hand gesture to begin his search.
“My first appointment is at five.” Dom examined the New Age CDs stacked next to the room’s sound system. “So I’ve got some time to kill.”
“Gonna polish your thumb-screws and oil up your whips?”
Dom laughed but out of the corner of her eye, she watched Smokey make an uneventful circuit of the room. The masseuse wasn’t storing drugs in her workplace, thank goodness. Domino was glad to mark the woman off her suspect list.
“No, I leave those types of chores to the housekeeping staff,” Dom said, telling the truth. “My five o’clock is one of my ‘school boy in need of discipline’ customers. Nothing too shocking. If you want to see some real kinks, watch a couple of Ellen’s or Angi’s sessions.”
Suzi shuddered and made a face. “I did. The first week I was here, I checked out some of the othe
r rooms. I can’t believe the things people do for sexual gratification.”
“Abstinence isn’t all it’s cracked up to be either.”
The two again shared a look of amused understanding. Due to Domino’s heavy workload of undercover assignments, she didn’t have a lot of girlfriends. And she missed the easy camaraderie she witnessed between women outside of the agency. It figures she would hit it off with Suzi, who’d be a memory as soon as Dom was off on her next job.
Smokey returned to her side and looked up at Domino with soulful, dawn eyes. Slipping a treat the size of a breath mint out of her pocket, she fed it to the appreciative dog.
“I’d better let you get ready,” Dom said. “See you around.”
“Say ‘Hi’ to Mistress Bella for me,” Suzi called after her as Dom walked out of the room.
Laughing, Domino shook her head. Suzi had commented the day they’d met how different she appeared in her dominatrix duds compared to her street clothes. And today, with her worn jeans and cable-knit sweater, Dom looked nothing like the stiletto-heeled Mistress Bella. Unbidden, Dalton flashed into her mind. Would her intriguing customer be attracted to her in these everyday clothes? Domino pushed aside the thought.
Turning down the corridor that led to the club’s non-public areas, Dom passed the empty employee lunch area without entering. Smokey had already checked it out. Continuing around the passageway, Domino spotted Benny and Fred moving wooden risers out of the loading bay. Reminding Smokey to heel, she approached the pair.
“Hey, guys. What’s up?” she asked.
“Hey, Dominique,” Benny called out, cheerful as always. The club bouncer dropped his end of the wooden platform, oblivious to Fred’s grunt, and greeted her with a big grin. Benny wasn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier but Dom liked the good-natured man.
“Hi, Benny. Hi, Fred.” She waved to the maintenance man who was rubbing the small of his back.
“Whoa, is that a dog?” Benny pointed to Smokey. “Can I pet him?”
“He’s my sister’s. I’m watching him while she’s on vacation,” Domino explained, the lie rolling off her tongue with all the practice it was getting. “His name is Smokey. He won’t bite but you have to be gentle.”
Dom watched the lumbering Benny get down on his knees and hold his beefy hand out to her canine partner. Smokey, wiggling all over, approached and sniffed fingers twice the size of his legs. Benny ran his palm softly over the dog’s head and back.
“Does he do any tricks?” Benny asked.
“Oh he has a few up his sleeve,” Dom said then changed the subject. “What are you moving?”
Fred answered as Benny continued to pet the dog. “A porn movie set. The Oval Office one. The boss wants it in Theme Room Four for some bigwig who just joined the club.”
Domino knew the Xecutive Branch occasionally shot skin flicks on the premise but this was the first time she’d seen one of the sets. “Is this bigwig someone who campaigned unsuccessfully for president?” She smiled at the thought of a frustrated also-ran getting his jollies in an Oval Office set.
Fred laughed. “Don’t know the guy’s name but I heard the boss has a couple freelancers coming in tonight dressed as political interns.”
From the club grapevine, Dom knew the freelancers Fred referred to were local hookers paid under the table for special jobs. Dom wondered if they would be the teenage runaways the cops suspected the club exploited. Unfortunately, she was here to find the drug traffickers and not a couple of underage girls.
“C’mon Benny,” Fred said. “We have to move this set and put it back together before five.”
Benny got back to his feet and picked up his end of the solid wood set as though it weighed ounces. “Will you bring your dog again so I can play with him?”
“Sure.” Dom moved around the two men so they could muscle the riser into the hallway. “Bye.”
Fred nodded and Benny waved at her, holding his part of the flat easily in one hand. Since several other men worked on the far side of the loading dock, Dom rejected the idea of searching the area right then. She patted her thigh and Smokey trotted along next to her as she took the long way back to S&M Room Five. They made good time since none of the doors they encountered on the way were open. She still had a good half hour to slip Smokey into his tote by the room’s futon, change into her “work” clothes and prepare for her next client.
Dom opened the employee door to S&M Room Five and halted at the sight of Clyde Salvi. He stood in the middle of the room, his arms crossed and his eyes cold. His brittle stare dropped to her dog and the chill in the room turned arctic.
“Hello, Ms. Petracelli. Nice of you to drop by,” he said, the formality sounding condescending from his cruel lips.
“Mr. Salvi.” She nodded toward him, refusing to be cowed. She checked her watch. “I don’t believe I’m late.”
Ignoring her comment, he asked, “Care to explain why you’ve brought an animal into the club?”
Domino picked up the shaking dog. Walking over to the futon, she lowered Smokey into his tote. “My sister stuck me with the mutt for a couple weeks,” she explained. “I was just getting his tote so I could put him in the locker room.”
Salvi looked as though he were going to pursue the matter but then glanced at his watch. “You have a client in less than thirty minutes but I have a special job to discuss with you first.” He spoke briskly, obviously expecting her to listen without interrupting. “Tomorrow evening an important guest will arrive on the shuttle. He comes to town once a month and we roll out the red carpet.”
Domino quickly thought of the daily shuttle flights into D.C.—from Boston, New Jersey, New York… Could the VIP be tied to the drug operation?
“This guest likes new experiences,” Salvi continued. “He’s requested an evening that requires unusual props—some of which we don’t stock. I’ve arranged overnight delivery of the things you’ll need and the clothes you’ll wear.”
Domino’s palms grew damp wondering what perversion would require props the club didn’t own. But she kept her cool expression firmly in place. Salvi took a step forward, seemingly testing her composure. She held her ground.
“The packages will arrive at my house in the morning,” he said. “Since a meeting will keep me away from the club tomorrow evening, I’ll bring the items by your place around noon along with instructions on the scene.” Salvi didn’t ask if she would be there. He knew his orders overrode all other considerations.
“Is there anything I can do to prepare for the scene before tomorrow?” she asked, hoping for a hint about the client’s kink.
Salvi smiled and she noticed his long, sharp eyeteeth. Even amused, the club manager looked vicious.
“Our visitor wants an equestrian scene,” Salvi said. “And he asked for an appointment with our new counselor.” The club manager put his hand in his coat pocket, pulling the jacket’s material tight and revealing the outline of a shoulder holster. “Both Angi and Ellen have human pony experience so you can talk with them. This guest has special requests however, which I’ll discuss with you tomorrow.”
With that, Salvi walked to the room’s customer exit. He opened the door and then turned back to her. “By the way, Ms. Petracelli. You know the rules on bringing animals to the club?”
Domino nodded.
“If I find that dog,” he said the word as though Smokey didn’t deserve the appellation, “wandering the halls, I’ll feed him to my Doberman. Do you understand?”
Dom nodded again and heard Smokey whimper in his tote. Salvi left the room, closing the door behind him. Taking a shuddering breath, she tried to relax her tensed muscles. If there were such a thing as evil incarnate, Salvi was it.
Domino picked up the tote and headed for the women’s locker room to change. She tried not to think about the upcoming “special job” but failed. God, she had to solve this case soon. And she hoped like hell to put Clyde Salvi behind bars when she was done.
Chapter Thirteen
“Okay, Weinberg, see you at six.” Dalton ended the call to his temporary partner and laid the cell phone on the car seat.
Howie Weinberg was a little too “by the book” for Dalton’s taste but he was still a good cop. And considering the pawn store sting they were working that evening, Dalton was glad he could trust the man to watch his back.
He yawned. Doing these morning Xecutive Branch stakeouts along with his assigned cases was killing him. Dalton couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept more than a few hours straight.
Despite being on the late shift for days, he’d awakened early to drive Jason’s Jeep to Clyde Salvi’s Northwest Washington neighborhood. In deference to the weather, Dalton had added a parka, gloves and fleece-lined boots to his winter uniform of jeans and a sweater. In addition, he’d stopped at Krispy Kreme for doughnuts and a coffee fill up for his thermos. To hell with stereotypes. There’s nothing better than doughnuts on a stakeout.
He glanced at his watch. It was almost noon and his stomach was rumbling for lunch. Parked down the tree-lined street from the club manager’s renovated end-unit row house, Dalton had been watching the prestigious abode in his rearview mirror for hours. So far, the only activity had been a Federal Express delivery. Salvi himself had signed for the packages so Dalton knew his quarry was still at home. But he hoped the bastard would do something noteworthy soon, before Dalton was tempted to phone for a pizza to be delivered to his car.
As if on cue, the door of the attached garage slid up and Salvi’s black Jaguar sedan backed out. Dalton started his engine, wondering what municipal palms the club manager had greased to get permission to build the garage on his property. Everyone else on the block was relegated to street parking. Hell, half the city’s Planning and Zoning Commission were probably regulars of the Xecutive Branch.
Dalton allowed the Jag to pass him and move several blocks ahead before he pulled out into the steady midday traffic. Salvi’s luxury car had windows tinted darker than the Jeep’s, but Dalton spied the silhouette of a large dog in the passenger seat. He remembered Suzi’s warning about the manager’s vicious Doberman. Did it have its own doggy seatbelt?