Extra Dirty

by Mia Gold

  They picked one of the streets at random and hurried down it, hoping to spot the fugitive.

  None of them felt surprised when they found nothing.

  “He’s long gone,” Ruby groaned after they had made it a couple of blocks. But he’ll be back.

  “I didn’t hear a vehicle,” the female police officer said. “I think he escaped on foot.”

  “He looked fit,” Ruby said. “If he took off sprinting, he’ll be blocks away by now.”

  A patrol car approached, siren wailing and lights flashing.

  A perfect way to alert the assassin and make him take another street. Good job.

  Detective Anderson flagged down the car, got on its radio, and ordered all available cars to make a sweep of the area. Then he turned to Ruby.

  “With a bit of luck we’ll catch him. Now let’s get to our unfinished business.”

  Detective Anderson pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

  “Ruby Steele, you are under arrest for interfering with a police investigation, tampering with a crime scene, and giving false statements to an officer of the law.”

  Ruby slumped, utterly defeated. This had been bound to happen sooner or later.

  At least that guy can’t shoot me while I’m in a jail cell.

  Detective Anderson cuffed her hands behind her back and handed her over to the female officer.

  “We’ll lock up your house and leave your monkey there,” he told Ruby as he plucked him off her shoulder. Zoomer was still too stunned to object.

  “There are some nuts and sugar cane in my kitchen. Could you put out some as well as some water? He’ll get hungry.”

  Detective Anderson gave her a humorless smile. “He’s a cute little fellow. Don’t worry, he won’t starve on my watch. You should be far more concerned about yourself.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Ruby sat in Detective Anderson’s office at the central police station in downtown Nassau, feeling a serious case of déjà vu.

  The head of homicide sat in a comfortable leather chair behind a desk covered with files and a modern computer. The walls were papered with wanted posters and maps of the islands with various colored pins stuck in them. Ruby wondered if there was a pin in there for her.

  She sat in front of the desk in a folding metal chair that she suspected was chosen because it felt so uncomfortable. Her hands remained cuffed behind her.

  Too close behind her, in her usual annoying position, stood Detective Pinder.

  Detective Anderson flipped through a file folder and ignored their presence. That was one of his annoying habits. It was supposed to make the suspect nervous.

  It worked. That was what was so annoying about it.

  The homicide chief finished looking at the folder and closed it with a slap. He looked at Ruby for a moment.

  “So … we have identified the body as one Bridget Hansen and have informed her husband. They came here on holiday a few days ago.”

  “You work quick,” Ruby grunted.

  Detective Anderson smiled and inclined his head. “We aim for efficiency here, but I’m afraid I cannot take full credit. Her husband filed a missing person’s report this afternoon. He also added something strange. He mentioned that someone impersonating a staff member at the Serene View Golf Resort questioned him about his whereabouts and then stole his phone. That linked up nicely with a complaint we had from the resort about the same thing. I haven’t had a chance to review the security footage, so I’ll simply ask. Do I need to add criminal damage, criminal trespass, and petty theft to your list of charges?”

  “Don’t forget assault,” Detective Pinder said right behind her ear. She spoke too loudly, just to tick Ruby off. It was a bit of a kink with her.

  Ruby turned to her and frowned. “Assault?”

  Detective Pinder gave her a mocking smile. “You—or I should say the suspect—threw a golf club at the pursuing security. You—I mean the suspect—also cut off Aaron Hansen and nearly ran him over.”

  “I was way ahead of him!”

  The two detectives laughed.

  “Oh my,” Detective Anderson said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “You really need to get a hobby other than detective work. How about you take up knitting? Baking pies, perhaps? No, you’d probably burn the kitchen down.”

  Ruby glared. “I was investigating the murder for Helen Pierce, the woman who was with Bridget Hansen the night she went missing.”

  “Yes, we’ll be questioning her in the morning. How do you know this woman?”

  Ruby paused. What should she tell and what shouldn’t she?

  After a moment’s reflection, she realized that she should tell everything. Coming clean now might make them go easy on her. Maybe. If they really did slap all those charges on her, they’d probably delve into her past, putting her in even worse trouble than she already was. Detective Anderson was smart enough, and Detective Pinder vindictive enough, that they’d find it all out anyway.

  Except the part about the hit man hired by some Saudi oil sheik to take her out and retrieve a thumb drive with sensitive material that used to be owned by a United States senator before she got assassinated.

  That might be a bit too much sharing for one evening.

  So she told them everything else, from the night she saw Helen and Bridget come in for drinks, to Helen’s plea for help the following evening, through her investigation into the murder and what she discovered at Caribbean Dreams, skipping only the detail that the man who tried to mess with her had recognized her from television. Instead, she called it a simple case of sexual harassment.

  The two detectives listened, their faces registering equal parts incredulity and amusement, until she finished.

  For a long moment nobody spoke.

  “I’m slipping,” Detective Anderson said, shaking his head and clicking the end of a ballpoint pen. “When the call about the riot at Caribbean Dreams came in, I didn’t realize you were involved. It was so obvious, like two and two make four.”

  “I didn’t start the riot.”

  Detective Anderson raised his hands in mock surrender. “You didn’t need to. Your presence was enough.”

  “And we can add another count of assault to our list of charges,” Detective Pinder said.

  “Your maiden name isn’t Strapp, is it?”

  “What? No.”

  “Never mind. If you review the security camera footage, you’ll find that guy and his friends attacked me.”

  “Perhaps,” Detective Anderson said. “But we still have the golf club throwing incident, and all the other charges. By the way, did you end up doing that striptease?”

  “No. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  Detective Anderson’s face reddened ever so slightly. “I wasn’t asking out of personal interest, rather out of thoroughness. The ‘act,’ for lack of a better word, you describe might have broken obscenity laws.”

  “It’s a strip club.”

  “Strip clubs have to follow very strict guidelines.”

  “Are those guidelines ever enforced?” Ruby was getting sick of this. If she was going to go down, she wanted to go down with dignity.

  The homicide chief did not seem phased by this implied accusation of corruption. “When they need to be.”

  Ruby stared. She could never figure this guy out. Sometimes he was a stickler for the rules, and sometimes he looked the other way. Sometimes he was sharp, and sometimes an idiot. Ruby got the impression that much of his persona was an act.

  But what parts were an act, and what parts were real?

  Detective Anderson put his hands flat on his desk and leaned forward slightly. “So let’s get on to the other part of our evening, shall we? Tell us about this intruder into your home.”

  “Alleged intruder,” Detective Pinder interjected.

  Ruby looked angrily over her shoulder. “Your boss saw the bullet hole.”

  Detective Pinder gave her a cold stare. “That’s doesn’t mean he was an intruder. He might have be
en one of your friends, or partners in crime.”

  Ruby rolled her eyes and turned back to the man in charge.

  “I already told you what I know.”

  Detective Anderson’s eyes narrowed. “Why would a professional assassin break into your home wielding a gun fitted with a silencer? You’re not the prime minister.”

  “Maybe it has something to do with this case,” Ruby said, hoping to get him off the scent. “Maybe I was getting too close to something bigger. Bridget’s murder doesn’t make any sense.”

  He shrugged. “Nothing involving you makes any sense.”

  “There’s got to be more going on here. I don’t think Dirty Dancer killed Bridget, and I don’t think Helen did either. But I don’t think Helen is telling the whole truth either. My gut says this isn’t a simple murder.”

  “My gut says I should lock you up to keep you from muddying the already muddy waters. Sadly, my cells are nearly full thanks to your little riot, along with the usual crime in this insane city. So I’m going to let you go, pending trial.”

  Relief washed over her. Ruby suppressed a laugh.

  “What?!” Detective Pinder said. Obviously this had not been part of the script. “You’re letting this thug go?”

  “Don’t get hysterical, Ayanna,” he said with a dismissive wave. “She’s still being brought up on charges.”

  He turned back to Ruby and gave her a little smile. Her relief vanished.

  This is a trap, she realized. They’re going to be watching me.

  “Can I go now?” Ruby asked.

  “Be my guest. Do you have somewhere to stay? It would be best not to stay in your house until we find your assailant.”

  “Alleged assailant,” Detective Pinder corrected.

  Detective Anderson ignored her. “I’ll get a patrol car to drive you home and you can collect your things. Then they’ll drive you where you need to go.”

  Drive me so you can see where I’m going?

  “Thanks for the offer of a ride. I can take it from there.”

  Not that that’s going to stop you. You’ll find out everything I’m doing sooner or later.

  * * *

  Kristiano opened the door to his modest bungalow and gave Ruby a hug.

  “Thanks so much for doing this,” she said.

  “No problem. You sure you weren’t followed?” Kristiano said, looking up and down the street of his quiet working-class neighborhood. The homes here were tidy, clean, many with air conditioning units in the windows and cars in the driveway, two things Ruby never saw in her neighborhood.

  Over the phone, Ruby had explained a bit of the situation. To his credit, that didn’t scare him off from sheltering her. On the contrary, it made him insist.

  “I’ve been driving around Nassau randomly for an hour. I even got on the country road for a while. I had a good ten minutes where no other car was in sight.”

  “That the rental car you mentioned?” he asked, pointing to the Lexus.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why is it all messed up?”

  “Long story. Want to hear it?”

  “You and your drama,” Kristiano said with a chuckle, putting an arm around Ruby and leading her inside. Zoomer chittered and crawled along his arm to sit on his shoulder.

  They sat in his living room, Ruby taking a spot on the sofa that would be her bed for the night, and perhaps a few other nights until this thing got cleared up.

  She looked around. She had never actually been in his house before. A dusty guitar case leaned against one corner, next to a bookshelf filled with popular novels and books on cricket. The islanders were as big into that game as the British were. Ruby didn’t even know the rules. A couple of black and white nature photos hung on one wall, bearing dedications to him from someone whose signature she couldn’t read. On another wall were several snapshots of a Bahamian family. Ruby recognized Kristiano’s brother and his kids. An elderly couple must have been his parents.

  Evidence of a full life. All she had in her living room was some crappy old furniture.

  “Want a drink?” Kristiano said, suppressing a yawn.

  “No, thanks.”

  He cocked his head. “You really off the sauce?”

  “Yeah.”

  Well, sort of.

  “So tell me what happened.”

  Ruby let out a deep sigh, suddenly feeling bone weary. She’d like nothing better than to sink into this sofa and not move for ten hours. Zoomer had already curled up on a pillow in a nearby armchair. Kristiano deserved an explanation, though. So for the second time that evening, she told the whole story, this time without any edits.

  The only thing she didn’t mention was the fact that she had a few drinks. Ruby felt more than a little embarrassed about that.

  And she also didn’t mention her would-be assassin mentioning the sheikh. To do that, she’d have to reveal what she used to be, and she felt far, far more embarrassed by that than slipping up with the booze.

  When she finished with her slightly redacted account of the past few days, her friend let out a long, low whistle.

  “You really get yourself into some craziness. How do you do it?”

  Ruby shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s not a lifestyle choice, believe me.”

  “And this guy who tried to ice you, you think he’s connected to this?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe,” Ruby said, angry at herself for lying to her friend. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the full story, though. It would probably be safer for him if he didn’t know anyway. “The problem is, this guy knows where I live. He knows my name.”

  My real name. Even you don’t know that, my friend.

  So how the hell did they find that out? I need to call Tim.

  Unless Tim betrayed me.

  A chill ran through her.

  Kristiano brought her out of her thoughts.

  “You said they went to the Moonlight Lounge? That’s an odd place for two women to go.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a hookup point for high-end hookers. They use the adjoining hotel. It’s nicer than the usual dumps, and usually half empty because it’s so far from the beach.”

  “Really? I totally didn’t notice anything like that going on.”

  Wait. Those well-dressed women sitting alone. What a dummy I am!

  “They keep it quiet. Subtle,” Kristiano said.

  Ruby laughed and shook her head. “And that night manager acted so morally superior. Wait. How do you know about it?”

  Kristiano shrugged. “I’ve been a bartender for ten years.”

  “Good point.”

  Now that she thought about it, that place did seem a bit odd. She had been in such a hurry, worried about the night manager coming back from his fool’s errand in the parking lot, that she hadn’t noticed a very strange thing about the CCTV.

  There was only one camera, pointed at the front door. It didn’t cover most of the parking lot, and it didn’t cover the entrance to the lounge. There were no internal cameras either. So, someone could park, go into the lounge, hook up, get a room, and go to it without ever being caught on camera.

  She bet when the police reviewed the security camera video, they’d find no footage of Bridget and Dirty Dancer entering the building. Or Helen.

  Helen.

  She had lied about being there. Ruby had only found out because she let slip that the watch was hers. Ruby didn’t buy her drunken amnesia alibi, or the spiked cocaine story either. Given the accounts of her behavior, she had certainly been trashed and her memory of the night might be a little foggy, but the more Ruby pressed her, the more selective that fog turned out to be.

  That fog had seriously messed up Ruby’s life.

  Now Ruby didn’t feel sorry for Helen, she felt like getting her own back.

  She wanted to find out the truth, the real truth, and if Helen turned out to be in any way culpable for what happened in that hotel room, Ruby would make sure she paid.

  R
uby also wanted to help Bridget see justice, since that poor woman seemed to be low on everyone’s priority list.

  First item on the agenda for tomorrow would be to get the whole truth out of Helen Pierce.

  And she’d get it, even if she had to wring her neck.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  First thing the next morning, Ruby drove over to see Helen Pierce.

  At least she tried to drive over. As soon as she pulled away from in front of Kristiano’s place, the oil gauge showed empty with a glowing red light. She glanced back at the parking spot she had just vacated and saw a big puddle of oil.

  Bucking onto the curb must have scraped a hole somewhere in the undercarriage. I’ve been leaking all night.

  Gritting her teeth, she drove to the nearest service station, making it just as smoke began to curl around the edges of her hood.

  The mechanic filled up her oil and told her she needed to get the oil pan replaced. The price he quoted convinced her to leave it to Helen.

  So keeping an eye on the oil gauge, she drove to Helen’s place. She did not call first.

  Instead, she pounded on her hotel room door. It was eight in the morning. Ruby hoped she was still asleep.

  A groggy voice on the other side of the door told her that she had been until Ruby showed up.

  “One minute,” Helen said, then mumbled something inaudible.

  Helen must not have looked through the peephole because her eyes widened in surprise when she opened the door and saw Ruby.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Ruby shoved her way inside and closed the door behind her.

  “Why did you kill your friend?” Ruby demanded. She wasn’t sure Helen had, but Ruby figured that strong-arming her would be the best way to cut through the crap and get to the truth.

  “I didn’t! Why would I do that?” She looked on the edge of hysteria, the stress and lack of sleep finally catching up.

  That and Ruby finally hitting on the truth?

  “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  Ruby paced forward, making Helen back up. Ruby glanced around the room. No sign of the husband. Not that he posed any physical threat, it was just that another person in the room would have complicated things.