The Last Lie She Told

by K. J. McGillick

  She shook her head no.

  “Hold on,” I said, opening the tracking app to see if she’d popped back up. Nothing.

  “Did she leave any contact information?” I asked, and again Claire shook her head. “God, this is so frustrating. I hope this hasn’t been a wasted trip.”

  “We had no idea where she was heading when she left Boston, and this is still a possibility. Maybe she’s taking care of business. Or what if she got spooked by Stamos? Let’s not give up yet. Claire, the minute you hear anything, please let us know,” I said.

  We said our goodbyes and headed to the car.

  “Now what, Sherlock?” I asked Mary.

  “You’re not going to like it; I want to look at the sex club,” she said.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It has nothing to do with our case. There’s no reason to believe Fiona will be there, and it’s just a waste of time,” I said, hoping she’d drop it.

  “You got something else better to do?” she asked, knowing we didn’t.

  “OK, you pest,” I said, hoping she’d catch my tone. “We’ll do a drive-by, just so you can see it and move on. It’s probably some dingy old warehouse in some run-down section of town.”

  Belle typed in the address from the police report and flashed me a wicked smile. She turned the phone for Mary and the two of them laughed.

  “What?” I asked not liking being kept out of the joke.

  “Just head toward Mulholland,” Belle said. I was sure we were making a mistake going there.

  After sitting in traffic for nearly an hour, we approached a mansion behind black, wrought iron gates.

  “There, pull over there, and let’s talk about this,” Belle said, pointing at a spot to park.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I said. “Mary wanted her curiosity satisfied, and now it is. Now, we’re going.”

  “No, wait, just pull over,” she said, touching my arm. I must have lost control for a moment at the touch that sent an electric jolt through me, and I complied.

  “All right, now what?” I asked.

  “Turn off the car, and let’s reconsider a minute,” Belle said.

  “I already have a plan,” Mary said.

  “Not interested,” I replied.

  As we sat silently, I heard a consistent beeping from somewhere in Belle’s handbag.

  “You want to turn that off? It’s giving me a headache,” I said, as she rummaged through her bag.

  “Yeah, give me a minute to shut it off,” she said. She pulled her phone out and frowned as she looked at it.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You know that app that’s tracking Fiona? It’s beeping,” she said, opening the app. She stared at her phone in disbelief and then looked at me.

  “She’s inside,” she said.

  “Get the hell out of here. If you’re having a laugh at my expense, it isn’t funny, trust me. There’s no way my phone didn’t pick that up, and yours did,” I said, sure it was a joke.

  I pulled my phone out, and realized I’d closed out of the app when we’d visited Claire and hadn’t relaunched it.

  “Well if that’s true, why didn’t it notify me before this?” I asked.

  “The possibilities are endless. Dead battery, low signal, or interference from all the waves in the area are a few,” Mary said. “Who cares, as long as we’ve found her? What are you going to do, grab her up when she comes out?”

  “That would be a great idea, if it didn’t involve prison time for kidnapping,” I said. “We could just stop Fiona and tell her who we really are and give her an opportunity to explain.”

  “Lee, that’s a wonderful idea. ‘Hello, Fiona, we’ve been stalking you from one end of the country to the other; would you care to chat?’” Mary interjected.

  I turned to Belle and asked, “Thoughts?”

  “You still have the wealthy sugar daddy cover, right?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  “I say when she leaves, we go inside, and say we’re new to the area, and we’re interested in membership,” she said.

  I looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

  “There’s no way I am stepping foot inside some pervy palace. What possible information could we get?”

  “Lee, I don’t know. But what I do know is that we don’t have a lot right now, and sometimes luck drops right in your lap.” she said.

  “What if they ask us for a reference?” I said, hoping to stop this before it got too far.

  “And what if they don’t? You can’t go throwing negative vibes out there; let’s just do this,” Belle said.

  “Yeah, Lee, let’s,” Mary threw in.

  “There’s no ‘Mary’ in ‘us,’” I said, and suddenly spotted Fiona walking out of the door, and a black car pulling forward to meet her.

  I’m sure Belle kept speaking, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the car. As the gates opened to let the car out, it was impossible to tell if anyone else was in the back seat. I quickly pulled into the drive before the gates closed.

  “Mary, you stay in the car and stay low. Belle, you’re with me,” I said, sliding out of the car.

  “What’s my cover?” she asked hesitantly.

  “My wife.”

  That brought a mischievous smile to her lips.

  We held hands as we walked up the stairs together. At the top, we took a moment to collect ourselves, and I noticed a camera. What happened next startled me as much as Belle, I kissed her. Not a sweet “hello” kiss, but one filled with passion. I longed to stay like this all day, but an intercom voice interrupted us asking what we wanted. I quickly explained we wanted to talk about membership and determine if it was a good fit. I don’t remember the specifics of what I said because my mind was flooding with happy neurotransmitters.

  As the door unlocked, Belle whispered in my ear, “Let me take this; I worked vice and speak their language.”

  A well-dressed man waited in the hall to greet us.

  I made the introductions and was shocked when he said, “I see your mother is in the car. Please invite her in; it’s far too hot to sit in a car. I insist.”

  Oh my God, what now? Everything was going to go to hell in a handbasket. Before I could say anything, Belle interceded.

  “Thank you. She’d love that. Darling, wait here a moment, and I’ll go get her,” she said. Before I could argue, she was gone.

  The man and I chatted about the fact I was considering moving here, and that my wife and I wanted to seek out the options for our unique brand of entertainment. As the host was about to suggest real estate agents, probably club members, Mary and Belle walked in, and introductions were made.

  “Since no members are using the facility, why don’t you join us?” he said to Mary.

  Her back straightened and a broad smile broke across her face. “Lead on,” she said.

  After an hour tour, which was more like a palace than a club, we were offered refreshments in our host’s office.

  Seated in a soft leather chair, I broached a question I hoped wouldn’t get us kicked out.

  “I have a concern,” I said.

  He tilted his head. “Oh?”

  “When we were coming in, we noticed a very young lady leaving. She looked like she was barely out of her teens,” I said.

  He laughed. “Don’t let her concern you one bit; she’s a member in good standing, and there has never been a problem. She’s well past the age of consent, and she’s a well-practiced dominatrix. In fact, if you’d care to attend our party tonight, subject to a background verification of course, she’ll be there,” he said with a smarmy smile.

  “However, madam,” he said, looking at Mary, “I’m sorry, but we cannot invite you.”

  She nodded, accepting the disappointing news. “I understand I might dampen the festivities. But these two will have a good time for me.”

  “Such an open-minded woman,” our host replied. “This is how we proceed. I’ll verify your credentials. I’ll email the informati
on about the party tonight. It will include where it is to be held, dress for the evening, and your admittance code. If you decide we’re a good fit, I’ll arrange for your membership to be placed on the board’s agenda, which often takes up to a month. Tonight’s activities will be subdued, so no worries,” he said.

  I placed my arm around Belle’s waist, as he accompanied us to the door. “Masks are optional and provided at the door. For new members, I encourage them. Old members may be a tad inhibited around new members. Or the opposite can occur, and they become a tad too over enthusiastic.”

  We thanked him and left.

  I waited for the rapid-fire conversation to come from Mary in the back, but none came. I had to turn to make sure she hadn’t died of shock in the back seat.

  “Did you have a stroke back there, or are you stunned stupid?” I asked, looking in my rearview.

  “You’re being set up,” she said.

  I stiffened and looked at Belle.

  “She’s right,” Belle said. “I worked vice two years in some form or another. During that time, I liaised with the FBI in large human trafficking cases. I’ve seen my share of BDSM gone wrong and people needing medical attention.”

  Why did my mind flash to Belle in leather and boots? That’s not to say it had to be leather, it actually could be—

  She snapped her fingers to bring me back, and Mary smiled as she turned her head.

  “First, we didn’t tour the whole building. I have a feeling there are some rooms in there that allow illegal activity to occur, including rooms where more serious violence might be acceptable. Those high-security locks are there for a reason. Second, no club would ever give you entrance through the door before you were vetted. I wouldn’t put it past them to have run the car plate and determined it was registered to you and not your alter ego. These places have people who belong to law enforcement and the judicial system. Third, the fact the party is being held off-site should cause a series of alarm bells to ring wildly in your head. They set up a front to give the appearance a party is going on; you drop your guard and go, and zap, your life is never the same. I’m trafficked overseas, and maybe your body parts are removed and sold. Either way, we’re going nowhere near that place,” Belle said, gently placing her head on the headrest and closing her eyes.

  “What about tipping the police off about the party tonight?” Mary asked.

  “What’s the probable cause? Rumor and innuendo? An email from an untraceable IP? No, our best move is to switch out this rental car in case they put a tracker on it and lie low,” Belle said.

  A tracker? Jesus, that hadn’t even crossed my mind. She was way ahead of me and made me wonder if my investigation skills were waning. Or maybe my mind was still back on that kiss and what I’d wanted to follow that kept vividly playing in my mind.

  “I’m heading to the airport to get a different rental car,” I said. “That way, if they track this one to LAX, it might appear we left. And it will be easy to pick up a new one.”

  “Good choice,” Belle said.

  “Are you going to do a drive-by tonight to check out the party?” Mary asked.

  “Not on your life,” Belle said.

  “OK, if you think they made you, and there’s a possibility of trafficking, then leave it to me. When you get the email with the party location and entrance code, I’ll forward it to a contact and leave it with him to deal with,” Mary said.

  I laughed, but Mary didn’t appreciate the humor.

  “Are you serious?” I asked her. I found this incredulous.

  “Obviously you haven’t been privy to the exciting life Mary has lived these last few years,” Belle said.

  “Obviously I haven’t. Are you buying into her story?” I asked Belle.

  “People, I’m right here,” Mary said. “I’ve got contacts with the mob. I’m on a first-name basis with Israeli intelligence and a phone call away from several FBI agents.”

  Our eyes met in the rearview mirror, and I realized she was telling me the truth.

  “Alrighty then, you take point on this portion,” I said to Mary.

  Just then a text came in from Claire. Still no Fiona, but that guy was back.

  “Belle, look at the app and figure out where Fiona is right now.”

  She opened the app and hit refresh. “Right now, she’s…at Claire’s complex. I don’t know if she’s inside, but the tracker says she’s there,” she said.

  I hit reply and typed: “Thanks, I guess she decided to move on.”

  “Is Claire playing us, or is Fiona playing her? Let’s head over to the complex,” Mary said.

  “And do what?” I asked.

  “Knock on the door. If Fiona’s there, we can ask her our questions and be done,” Mary said. “I’m done playing with this case. Now let’s get a move on; I’m getting older every minute.”

  I didn’t like this one bit, but what other option did we have.

  Mary’s plan was flawed, but it was the best we had. Time was winding down, and if we didn’t confront Fiona now, we might lose her.

  “I’m the one to knock on the door; you two stand to the side,” Mary said.

  After three short raps, the door opened, and Mary stepped back.

  “Can I help you?” the voice asked.

  Fiona.

  Fiona

  “Can I help you?” I asked, surprised to see a nicely dressed older woman at my door.

  A man and a woman suddenly appeared on either side of the older woman. It took me a moment to recognize the man, but then it slammed into my brain—Mykus and some chick I’d never seen before.

  “You! Didn’t you get the message when I ditched you in Boston? What are you, some freakish stalker?” I demanded. Over the years, I’d had trouble with men who didn’t know when to let go. Or men who thought they meant more to me than they had. But this guy was a stranger who’d had one date with me that had ended badly for him.

  Well, that remark seemed to catch him off guard. But it didn’t cause him to step back. Odd.

  “May we come in?” the older woman asked. She started forward. These people were way too pushy, and they had crossed a line showing up here.

  “You may not. Who are you people, and what do you want?” I asked.

  The older woman said, “I’m Mary.”

  “My name is Lee Stone, and I’m a private investigator. Your former employer, Benjamin Hightower, wants me to have a word with you,” he said.

  What. The. Hell. No. This was not happening. “Hold on. Are you telling me that prick sent you across the country and back again just to make sure I’d keep my mouth shut? You can tell that asshole his secret is safe with me. He can call off his dogs,” I said, starting to close the door.

  Lee’s hand went up to block the door, and it sprang back toward me.

  The younger woman stepped forward and flashed a badge.

  “I am Detective Annabelle Hughes with the New York City Police Department, and I have questions for you,” the petite, attractive woman said. “Now, I suggest you let us in. We may be able to clear this up and be on our way.”

  NYPD? What the fuck was going on? I could refuse to talk to her; she had no jurisdiction in California. But something in her stance told me she’d be persistent if I didn’t cooperate. We couldn’t meet in here. I hadn’t been here long enough to see if Claire had her stash of coke somewhere in plain sight. What a can of worms that would open up. I didn’t need them nosing around, and I didn’t want to get an intent to distribute charge hung on me.

  I grabbed my keys from the table, closed the door, and tilted my head, indicating they should follow me. We walked to the end of the hall where there was an unoccupied room. I opened the door and invited everyone to take a seat.

  As they sat, I studied their body language and then their seating arrangement. I assessed who was in charge. It was apparent Lee was the alpha, but it was almost too close a tie with the detective to call it. But I quickly determined Lee, with all the alpha signs going on, would b
e my adversary.

  I leaned back, crossed my legs, and placed my hands on the arm rests. I was prepared. Looking at Lee, I said, “You first,” letting him know I was the one setting the agenda and pace.

  He removed a pen and a small pad from his jacket pocket and flipped it open. The way he performed this small task suggested he was a former detective with law enforcement.

  “So, why did you leave your employment without notice?” he asked, as he clicked his cheap pen.

  “Why’s that any of your business?” I asked, looking him straight in the eye.

  He didn’t answer for a moment, and I could see by the way his eyes focused on the wall he was deciding what information he wanted to share with me.

  “It’s my business because a project you were a part of is now missing and up for auction. Also, a man you were in a hotel room with the night you left was brutally murdered. Another man in the same room was left in a coma,” he said.

  How should I answer without saying something that would lead to more questions? He seemed to be accusing me of the murder. What do you do when you’re on the defensive and have nowhere to go? You play for time and then go on the offensive.

  I looked at Detective Hughes. “And you, why are you here? Are you here to question me about a crime that happened in Seattle?”

  She looked a little put off and returned my stare. Good.

  “I have questions about a crime that occurred in New York,” she said.

  “Don’t you have to Mirandize me? Or, at the very least, have me sign a waiver,” I asked. I knew she didn’t, but I thought it would make her take a step back. I wanted to show them all that this wasn’t going to be easy.

  “I’m investigating the murder of Mahir Abajian,” she said with an inflection in her voice that issued a challenge.

  “Well then, you’re wasting your time. I didn’t even know he was dead. This is the first I’m hearing of it.”

  “That’s odd, because you contacted him not more than a few days ago,” she said with a smug smile.

  “So?” I returned. She wasn’t going to box me into making any statement that would require follow-up questions and answers.