by Mia Gold
“Well, if you’re drinking to feel better, gin is a bad way to go about it,” John said.
“Why?” Dirty Dancer asked as she took another sip.
“Gin has certain chemical compounds that makes it have a greater depressive effect than other forms of alcohol.”
Ruby cocked her head and studied the bouncer. “Since when did you become a university professor?”
John laughed. “I wanted to be a nutritionist and personal trainer. Didn’t have the money to go to school, though.”
“Is this her?” Dirty Dancer asked, motioning toward Ruby with her glass. She hadn’t even looked at Ruby until that moment.
“Yes. My name’s Ruby and I work next door to you. Helen Pierce, one of those women who picked you up the other night, hired me to find her friend, Bridget Hansen.”
To Ruby’s surprise, tears formed in the prostitute’s eyes.
“Bridget was real nice,” she whispered, then took a gulp from her glass.
“Bridget is dead.”
Dirty Dancer let out a shudder. “I know. It was in the newspaper this morning. That’s why I got in touch with John.”
“So, tell me what happened.”
“We hooked up with them at The Tropical Twerker. I’m sure John’s told you all that. Had a few drinks. Did a bit of blow. Had some fun upstairs. Bridget was nice. Real gentle. She didn’t have much experience with other women, but she got really eager. Not pushy, though. Not like so many guys. After that they wanted to make a move to Caribbean Dreams. I didn’t think we’d get in there, but they insisted.”
She took another sip of her gin and tonic.
“Go on,” Ruby coaxed.
“I was right about not getting in. The bouncer took one look at me and Lollipop and told us to get lost. We were walking behind Helen and Bridget and they just passed on through. They were so wasted by that point they didn’t even realize we got held up at the door.”
“Helen thinks the cocaine was spiked.” While Ruby didn’t give much credence to that idea, she decided to check all angles.
“Spiked? No. Stepped on, sure, but not with anything toxic. You got to watch it with coke. They can put all sorts of things in it. Baking soda, laundry detergent. It’s always mixed with something. Whatever we had was mixed with a lot, that’s why it was kind of weak, but it wasn’t mixed with anything that would trip you out or give you a nosebleed or nothing. Me and Lollipop wouldn’t have taken it otherwise.”
Ruby nodded and gestured for her to go on.
“So once they stopped us from getting in, Lollipop and I headed for the nearest bus stop. I got to thinking, though. Bridget had been real nice and had been talking about seeing me every day for the rest of her vacation, sneaking out on her husband for an hour or two to have a fling, or make up a story about another ‘girls’ night out’ so we could have a longer time together.”
“Did she talk about leaving her husband?” This question came from John, who had been sitting next to her on the sofa the whole time, listening with rapt attention.
Dirty Dancer shook her head. “You know how once you got a client upstairs, they’ll talk about their wife. They do that all the time, like they need to justify what they’re doing. Oh, she’s sick. Oh, she’s not interested in sex. I need more than she wants. Whatever. You just nod and smile and act understanding and give them what they’re after. Bridget was no different. She kept telling me how she loved her husband, even got weepy over her drink for a minute. She felt stifled, though. All he was interested in was Netflix and golf. Never wanted to go out, never wanted to experiment in bed.”
Ruby nodded. “The quiet woman who picked a quiet husband, and then realized she wanted more from life.”
Ruby could sympathize a little bit. She’d known people trapped in unsatisfying marriages. While that didn’t excuse cheating, she could understand feeling like you weren’t getting enough out of life.
Like me. Drinks, a few friends, and constantly looking over my shoulder. I need way more than that.
For a moment Tim’s rugged face flashed in her mind. Dirty Dancer went on, forcing Ruby to focus.
“So I called her, asked her to get me in. She said she’d try and so I left Lollipop at the bus stop and went back. Well, they still wouldn’t let me in. Didn’t matter, though, because Helen and Bridget came out. Man, they were flying high! They had scored some really ace blow, and promised to share it with me. I thought I had it made, but just then two other working girls flew in and interrupted my play.”
So far this story is matching what Helen said. I wonder if it will stay that way.
“Did they work for Caribbean Dreams?” Ruby asked.
“I think so. Had that look.”
“Could you describe them?”
“One was tall and slim, almost six feet. Mixed race with pretty amber eyes. The other was full Bahamian, nice curvy body. My height, so about five six. Had these wonderful cornrows. Professionally done. They wore evening gowns like they were going to some high-class party. I could tell they were working girls. Had that look, even though they dressed respectable.”
“What did they do?” John asked.
“Just walked right up and introduced themselves. Asked if Helen and Bridget wanted to go to a nice quiet bar where they could get to know them. Said it was attached to a hotel. I knew right off the one they were talking about. The Moonlight Hotel and Lounge.”
“Damn,” John muttered.
Ruby turned to him. “It’s got a reputation?”
“Hell, yeah it does,” the bouncer said. “One of the best hookup joints on the islands, except for a couple of the resorts that have their own operations.”
“I was worried about going there,” Dirty Dancer said, and took another gulp of her gin, “but I didn’t want to lose Bridget. I knew if she went off with those high-class girls, they’d take her away from me, and I sure as hell need the money more than they do.”
Ruby winced inside. For a while it had been sounding like Dirty Dancer actually cared about Bridget, but on second thought Ruby realized that obviously wasn’t true. It was business, plain and simple. Bridget may have been a nicer customer than most, but in the end that’s all she could be. A customer.
“Of course they didn’t want me there. Cold shouldering me and trying to hog all of Helen and Bridget’s attention in the cab ride over. Bridget was being nice to me, but I could see I was losing her. She was so whacked out by then she hardly knew where she was. Once we got to the Moonlight Lounge things got serious.”
“You should have known better than to go to a place like that,” John said quietly.
“Don’t I know it,” Dirty Dancer whispered, draining the last of her gin and tonic. She started to rise. John put a hand on her arm.
“Enough with the booze. That never solved anything.”
Ruby shifted in her seat. Don’t I know it.
“So, what happened next?” Ruby asked.
“We went into the Moonlight Lounge and got a seat. And that’s when Carlos Cazador showed up.”
“Oh, crap,” John whispered, leaning back as if Dirty Dancer has suddenly broken out in boils.
“Who is Carlos Cazador?” Ruby asked. “That doesn’t sound like a Bahamian name.”
“He’s from El Salvador,” Dirty Dancer said. “And he’s one of the top pimps. Brutal as hell. He came into the lounge, took one look at me, and nodded toward the door. I left.”
“Just like that?” Ruby asked. This woman had been chasing Bridget’s money all night.
“Hell yeah, just like that! If Carlos tells you to be gone, you get gone.”
“Or what?”
“He cuts your nose off,” John said. “If you’re a woman. If you’re a man, he cuts your balls off. That’s on the first warning. You cross him again, you die. And not doing what he says the moment he says it counts as crossing him.”
This was a new development. Helen hadn’t mentioned anything like this. Of course, she wouldn’t have known about him. This
conversation was finally getting somewhere. Ruby realized that investigating a case was a bit like training. You doggedly kept at it, and as you did so you learned new skills while getting better at the old ones, or with investigation you discovered new pieces of the puzzle while the old ones became clearer and the whole picture slowly came into view.
“So, this Carlos Cazador guy runs the Moonlight Lounge?” Ruby asked.
“He runs the girls who go there,” John replied. “The lounge and hotel are owned by a hotel chain.”
Ruby thought back to the lack of CCTV, and the night manager who seemed so eager to shift blame.
“The hotel chain knows this is going on, right?” Ruby asked.
Dirty Dancer and John nodded.
“A lot of the hotel chains are owned by cartels,” Dirty Dancer said. “I don’t know much about Carlos Cazador, but I do know he’s tied with one of the cartels. He don’t exactly work for the hotel chain, but they have an agreement.”
“So, what happened after you left? Why didn’t you check in?”
“I was afraid,” Dirty Dancer said. “I took off and got a cheap motel to hide out for a while. I was afraid Carlos would find out where I worked and come for me there, and I didn’t want to tell Big Jim nothing in case he sold me out.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” John said. He did not sound convinced of his own words.
“But I couldn’t hide out forever,” Dirty Dancer went on. “I need to make money. Pay the bills. Get blow. So I called John.”
She looked over at him and smiled, putting a hand on his.
“It will be all right,” John said. “Carlos didn’t contact Big Jim. I’d know about it. He told you to get out and you did. It’s fine now.”
“God, I hope so,” the stripper said, her face taking on a haunted look. “Those eyes. They were like a shark’s eyes. No soul in them at all. I should have my head examined for trying to crash that place.”
“It’s all over now,” John said in a soothing voice. “You can go back to work tonight like nothing happened.”
Dirty Dancer looked at her empty glass.
“Except a client died on my watch,” she said quietly. “I got to live with that.”
For a moment, nobody said anything. At last, Ruby broke the silence.
“What else can you tell me about Carlos Cazador?”
“Not much. Don’t want to know anything. I know he carries a big knife. Got guns too, but doesn’t carry them regularly because he doesn’t want the cops to roust him.”
“Doesn’t he pay off the cops?” Ruby asked.
“Some cops you can pay off, some you can’t.”
I wonder which category Detectives Anderson and Pinder fall into?
“Is he often at the Moonlight Lounge?” Ruby asked.
“He’s in and out. Got things going all around town but likes to drop by to keep an eye on his girls.”
“Helen told me that Bridget rented a room. When they went up there those two girls you met tried to rob them. Bridget made a fuss and they pulled knives and stabbed her to death.”
Dirty Dancer slumped. “I knew Carlos and his girls were trouble. They rob customers all the time. Doesn’t make no sense to kill them, though.”
“Bridget put up a lot of resistance.”
The stripper thought for a moment, then grimaced. “Lost her fantasy.”
“She what?”
“Lost her fantasy. She was so happy to meet someone like me who would get it on with her. She kept on and on about how friendly everyone is in the Bahamas, how it was just the place for her. I could tell she was building it up in her head, making it into some fantasy land where she could finally be herself. So when those two robbed her, I’m not surprised she fought. They were taking a whole lot more than her money.”
Ruby leaned back, letting out a long, slow breath.
“Anything else you can remember about those two?”
“The tall one has a tattoo on her shoulder. It’s some Egyptian thing, like a cross with a loop on the top.”
“It’s called an ankh,” John said. “The Egyptian symbol for life.”
“Oh, OK. And the Bahamian girl likes green jewelry—necklace, earrings, bracelets, everything green.”
“What about Carlos?”
“Short and small, but strong. Everyone says so. Rumor has it he was in the Salvadoran army. Slicks his hair back and always wears a silk vest. It’s like his trademark or something.”
“Why do you want to know all this?” John asked.
Ruby took a deep breath. “Because I’m going over there tonight. Try to get in good with the girls so I can find out who killed Bridget.”
The other two stared.
“You’re crazy,” Dirty Dancer said.
“Yeah,” Ruby sighed, nodding. “Yeah, I probably am.”
She glanced out the window. It was getting dark. Her heart trembled as she thought about what she had to do. She found herself trying to figure out a way not to go, to solve the murder in another way.
But she couldn’t. She still didn’t have enough evidence to bring Bridget’s killers to trial. The only way she could get that would be to try and infiltrate the group there and get people to talk, either by trickery or force. She got the feeling that force would be the only thing to work on those sorts of people.
With a rush of relief, she realized she had something else she needed to do first.
It would be better to go a little later in the evening, she told herself, knowing it was only an excuse.
She excused herself to sit alone in the kitchen and try out her new laptop. Javon had bought her a decent one. Making sure the WiFI was switched off, and turning off John’s router just in case, she mustered the courage to put the thumb drive into the USB slot.
She tried to open it, getting the familiar password prompt.
One by one, she went through every password she had written down. One by one, the program refused her entry.
Each rejection made her feel more and more despondent. She wracked her brain for more ideas, throwing in every little thing she could think of. Nothing.
John came into the kitchen, phone in hand and looking confused.
“Did you turn my router off?”
Ruby jerked in surprise and slammed the laptop shut.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Uh, I live here.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry.”
John raised an eyebrow and glanced at the laptop. “Problem?”
“I needed to check something. Needed to have the Internet off to do it. Sorry.”
John stared at the computer for a moment longer, then shrugged. “Whatever. Tell me when you’re done. I have to get online.”
Ruby removed the thumb drive.
“I’m done,” she said with a sigh.
She had gone through a couple of hundred passwords and she was all out of ideas. More would come, she knew, but they would be shots in the dark like all the others.
I might never crack this thing.
“Can I leave this laptop with you? I’m afraid to leave it in the car,” she said, not mentioning the thumb drive.
“Sure.”
Ruby went into John’s bathroom and changed into her eveningwear. When she came out, John gave a low whistle.
“Wow. Who would have thought you’d clean up so nice?”
“Thanks,” Ruby grumbled, wobbling on her high heels.
“I think you might just fit in,” Dirty Dancer said. “Except you’re not one of Carlos’s women. They’ll spot that right off.”
“I’ll say I’m interested in being one.”
Dirty Dancer shook her head. “I haven’t been to the cathedral in years, but I think I’m going to have to go light a candle for you tonight. It’s gonna take a miracle.”
“I’ll be all right,” Ruby said with a confidence she did not feel.
She headed out to the car, a warm night breeze blowing through the palm trees lining the street.
> She was just unlocking it when a bullet shattered the driver’s side window.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Ruby ducked to the left and vaulted over the hood of the car as another bullet thumped into her door. The shot came from somewhere behind her, from somewhere in the shadows of the opposite yard. It came with the telltale pop of a silencer.
The assassin had tracked her down.
She crouched on the ground behind the engine block, heart hammering in her chest, all muscles tense.
A second later she realized she was freezing up.
Snap out of it, Dad always used to say in the early days, when she still hadn’t gotten used to fighting. The safest thing is to react.
Team Wayne!
Ruby shook herself and kicked off both her high heels.
Glancing to the left and right, she saw no better cover within ten feet, and no people.
There was that at least. No innocent bystanders to get hurt.
But she needed to draw the assassin away from John’s house. If they didn’t hear her car pull away, they might get curious and go to a window or come out, making them targets too. This guy didn’t seem the type to allow witnesses to live.
The nearest cover was a car parked by the next house, some ten feet away. Another car was parked just beyond, forming a wall of metal that would protect her and put John’s house out of the line of fire.
A better position, and only ten feet away.
It looked like ten miles.
Ruby coiled up her body and, without peeking since it might alert the gunman, burst into a sprint for the next car.
She checked to the left and saw the assassin, dressed as he had been that night in her house, angling across the front lawn of the house opposite. He had anticipated her move and wanted to cut her off, but she had started before he thought she would.
Thought I’d freeze. Underestimated me.
The assassin fired an unaimed shot that buzzed past Ruby’s ear and hit John’s neighbor’s house with a thud. Ruby prayed it hadn’t gone through the wall and hurt somebody.
She dove onto the lawn right by the curb and rolled the last couple of feet until she reached the momentary safety of the car. She heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps—the assassin wore soft-soled shoes that muffled his movements even at a full run—and hunkered behind the vehicle.