The Case

by Leopold Borstinski

  I decided to make one sweep round the room, because there were several booths to the back and the side of the dance space, where kids were hanging out and chatting.

  Darryl was nowhere to be seen, but as I mentally traveled from one booth to the next, something - or rather someone - caught my eye.

  THERE WAS A group of young girls, all dressed in quality schmatte, huddled at the last booth in the row. Two guys were leaning into the booth, trying to catch a fish, but they were having no luck at all. The double act had been a good plan for them, although they had not factored into consideration who they were hitting on. Sat at that table was none other than Simone Lambretti, the Don’s oldest daughter. The apple of his eye, the pride of his loins. You get the picture.

  A whole pile of thoughts landed in my frontal lobe all at the same time. Before I recognized her, I thought how incredibly hot she looked, with her hair tied back and her breasts pointing out. Then I laughed at the boys - not men - hoping to score by pretending they wanted to buy the ladies a drink. Finally, my jaw dropped because I could not imagine the circumstances that would have allowed Simone to be this far away from the Don unless he was dead or deranged. Neither of these states would lead to positive outcomes when I returned to New York City in a few days time.

  I sauntered up to the table and Simone, for some unknown reason, nodded an acknowledgement. I stood there until the boys walked away with nothing but unfulfilled longing in the hearts.

  “Sit down,” said Simone and I smiled and did exactly what she said.

  “Thank you, Simone. I’m sure you don’t remember me. We haven’t met for many years.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you are right, but I can tell a man who knows my father. They all look at me the same way. The way you just did.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Want a drink?”

  A waiter had arrived at Simone’s side almost as soon as she looked for one. The girl clearly received top quality service. I sat down, as I had been stood there all this time, and ordered a vodka martini, straight up with a twist.

  “So, what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” I asked, in a mock tone. Simone laughed out loud, knocking her head back to accentuate the extent to which she’d found me funny.

  “You are funny,” she said holding a pause between each word, her Brooklyn drawl inescapable even with the music pounding in my ears. The dimples near the corners of her mouth reminded me of the last time I’d seen her in the flesh, in her father’s library holding her dress up to show me her stomach. Now, without lifting anything up, she had a lot more flesh on show and I can confirm that her four-year-old’s outward belly button had become an inward belly button in the intervening fifteen years. And those curves, my oh my, she sure had grown into a complete woman.

  “Thanks,” I replied, “but seriously, I’m surprised to see you so far from home with no-one ... with you.”

  To be heard, I’d leaned forward and put my lips almost touching her ear. Of course, I pulled back as soon as I’d finished speaking: she might have been an extraordinarily beautiful young woman, but she was the Don’s extraordinarily beautiful daughter and I knew to keep a respectful distance.

  SIMONE LEANED FORWARD, draping an arm around my neck to draw me in so she could reply.

  “You’re not as stupid as you look.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. Call me Jake.”

  “Sure thing, Jacko. Can you keep a secret?”

  “Sure can. And it’s Jake.”

  “Heard you the first time, Jacko.”

  I shrugged, knowing I had lost the battle over my own name.

  “I’ve run away from home.”

  “Really? Run away.”

  She held a finger up to her lips in a tipsy way and said “Sh” and giggled. I took the bait.

  “Why have you run away?”

  “Just to get away from my old man. Jeez, you have no idea what it’s like to be the great Don Michael’s daughter.”

  “No I don’t. Tough?”

  “You betcha,” she slurred and carried on. “Officially, I’m visiting family friends out here, but I slipped my leash a coupla days ago. I’m surprised my father hasn’t called in the hounds yet.”

  “I’m sure he has, It’s only a matter of time before his people find you. Sorry, but it’s true.”

  “Don’t sweat it, Jacko. I know. I’m just enjoying my only shot at freedom and figure if I stay in the clubs, those goons will find it hardest to find me.”

  “You’re probably right. I’m a P.I. and have done work for your father. But don’t worry, I’m on a different job altogether, looking for a boy who’s gone missing in this town. I’m trawling through clubs trying to find him like those goons will be finding you soon too.”

  “Are you going to tell my father you’ve seen me?”

  “Nah, you carry on with your vacation.”

  Simone placed her spare hand on my cheek and placed a perfectly formed light kiss on the other cheek.

  “Thanks, Jake.”

  “We’re cool, Simone.”

  “Sure are, Jacko. Have another drink.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got work to do, like I said, and the boys will flutter around you once I leave. I appear to have scared them off.”

  Simone giggled and removed her arm from my neck. I took her hand and kissed the back of it. She blushed to only a light red and waved me goodbye. I dropped a business card on the table and wrote my hotel and room number on it, in case she needed a real friend in this town. Then I stood up.

  As I walked away, over the dance floor, I glanced back and saw I was right: the boys were circling again. A wry smile ripped across my mouth and I left the thumping sounds of the club behind me and headed back to my hotel.

  WHEN I GOT to my room, I sat on my bed and threw my shoes onto the floor. I allowed myself to flop back to have a rest before I clambered into bed, but instead I closed my eyes and let sleep envelop me until the morning.

  I awoke around six feeling cold and crumpled and stumbled around the room, trying to remove my clothes from yesterday while simultaneously putting on today’s threads. After tripping over myself twice, I decided the best thing was to remove everything I had on and start from scratch. Wise choice.

  Having splashed water on my face to wake myself up in lieu of a shower, I wandered downstairs for breakfast, as I needed to eat. I’d freshen up afterwards, for sure.

  Toast, coffee and half a grapefruit later, I returned to my room and kept the pledge to myself to shower, shave and brush those teeth. At reception, I’d grabbed a paper, so I sat down in my room’s easy chair to catch up on the world before I went out and resumed my search for Darryl.

  I had just turned page three and was gazing at page four’s headlines when the phone rang. I dropped the paper on floor and walked to the bedside table.

  “Hello.”

  “Is that Jacko?”

  I smiled.

  “Sure is, Simone. How’s it going?”

  “I need your help.”

  “Why? What’s happened? Are you in trouble?”

  “Stay cool, man. It’s not me; it’s a friend.”

  “A friend?”

  “Yes a friend. And it’s not what you think.”

  “What do I think, Simone?”

  “That the friend is actually me but I’m too embarrassed to admit it.”

  “No, that’s not what I was thinking. I reckoned this friend was some dude who’s got himself in trouble and you think I’m going to spend my day keeping him out of jail.”

  “Way off, Jacko. Way off.”

  “I met Sally in one of the bars here and that was cool. She’s all the things I’m not. Blonde, pretty, but not very street smart, you dig?” I let the self-delusion about her beauty go as now was not the time.

  “It’s nice that you made a friend so quick, but where’s the help needed?”

  “She’s vanished.”

  “Missin
g, you mean? Do me a favor. How d’you know she’s just not hooked up with some guy or stayed in last night instead of meeting with you?”

  “Simple. The last couple of times we’ve met, she’s brought along this Arab guy and he’s seemed pretty cool, but last night Sammy, another friend I’ve met here, said she saw Sally being dragged into a taxi by Badri. And we’ve tried calling her and Sammy even visited her folks, but she’s not there. She’s vanished.”

  “How do you know they aren’t holed up at this Badri’s place making whoopee?”

  “Because Sally’s not that kind of girl: she told us she wouldn’t spread her legs for the first guy she met and we believed her. Also, every club we went to with Sally and Badri, he’d always work the club and try to sell drugs. Sammy and I pretended not to notice, but he was quite shady, you know?”

  “I know. And you watched him sell drugs but took none yourselves, right?”

  “Jacko, you’re not my father, so play nice.”

  “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Simone gave me her contact details and we hung up. I figured Badri and Sally were shacked up somewhere: simple. A girl’s allowed to change her mind if the guy is hunky enough, I reckoned. But, to play it safe, I left chasing the enigmatic Darryl for a day to find a different kid in town.

  By the evening, I’d figured out where an Arab guy and porcelain white girl were holed up. Seattle wasn’t the most multicultural city in the country and I knocked on a door in the quaintly named Arab Quarter around the time dusk was settling itself in for a long night ahead.

  The door opened and I found myself in a reception area with rugs on the walls and thick piled rugs on the floors. The swirly patterns made me assume the proprietor had bought a job lot by accident and had decorated the place to get them all out of his warehouse.

  In the space of about five seconds, I realized Simone was right to be concerned about Sally. I’d thought this another of those private sex clubs springing up all around the city, but I was wrong.

  I was greeted by an old Chinese woman, who grabbed me by the arm and led me into the next room. There was a wide dude with no neck stood at the entrance and he, literally, stepped aside to let us through. No-one would get past him without his express permission.

  Then the old crone shuffled me along until she stopped and pulled down on my arm and forced me onto the ground. I figured that a bunch of underage girls were about to be paraded in front of me so’s I could pick one to fuck. But, again, I was wrong.

  The woman prepped a long pipe and passed it over. What the hell, I thought, and took a drag of the warm smoke. Two deep tokes later and I was lying on the ground, my head turning somersaults in my cranium as a million warm thoughts dribbled around my brain. I was in an opium den and Sally was in here too.

  Truth was, at that point, I really didn’t care about Sally or Badri or anything. I wanted another hit off that pipe.

  30

  WHEN I CRAWLED out the following day sometime, as I reached the reception, I noticed a corridor leading off away from the opium room and, in the distance, I thought I saw a blond girl with broadly the same face as the one in the photo in my pocket. Sally was here and I’d have to get her out somehow.

  The chances were the men holding her were keeping her subdued with the opium, which was freely available in the rest of the building. However, that was the good news, because they were unlikely to be holding her for fun and to get her hooked on the pipe.

  Young, white blonds kidnapped by Africans were more prone to leave the country via the backdoor and end up married to some Moroccan merchant before you could whistle dixie. And that was the best she could hope for. More likely, is that her ass would be sold to the highest bidder at some flesh auction in Marrakesh. I’d read about this trade in a Sunday supplement last year in the New York Times but this was the first time I had come across it for real.

  The problem I was facing now was to figure out how I could get close to her when most of the Johns were chasing the dragon rather than chasing pussy. This would be much harder than I’d first thought. An overbearing boyfriend was one thing, a gang collecting underage hookers was another story entirely and that was what Simone had lined up for me.

  I needed to get back in there and to figure out some way to grab Sally safely. There was no point in holding the cold dead body of the Don’s daughter’s friend in my arms.

  A plan hatched in my mind, but I’d need dough - and more than I carried on a normal missing person case. I could go to my bank and see if they’d give me a loan, but I was far from home and even if I’d been next door, I knew the answer would be nada. So I did the next best thing: I put a call through to Simone and met up with her for lunch.

  TO KEEP THINGS simple, we used a restaurant round the corner from Simone’s apartment. She was staying in a serviced condo and had the smarts to pay cash so no-one could trace her whereabouts. The Don’s brains had been passed through the genes, for sure.

  The place was swankier than I was used to, but that was fine because I knew Simone would pick up the check. She needed to keep me sweet to keep her father off her back and to get Sally’s safe return. The price of a decent meal was the least she would owe me and the most I would get.

  So I made sure we took a lingering three courses and a decent slug of red vino. Simone was eager to get to business, but I was more determined to guarantee three courses in this square meal. I zigzagged around the conversation until I had ordered cheesecake and coffee.

  “You were right,” I admitted, “Badri is far from all that he appears.”

  “What ... what does that mean?”

  “He’s taken Sally to a place in the Arab Quarter.”

  “Well, let’s go there and get her out. What are we waiting for?”

  “It’s more complicated than that. He didn’t take her back to his house.”

  “No?” She hesitated, knowing bad news was around the corner - it showed in the corners of her eyes.

  “No. It’s a house of various kinds of ill repute.”

  “Huh?”

  Beat. I was hoping not to have to say out loud what was going on, that a vague idea would keep Simone happy. But the Lambretti’s were smarter than that.

  “It’s a whorehouse and opium den. And possibly worse. I haven’t had a chance to find out.”

  “What could be worse?”

  “Well, white girls can get sold to rich Arabs and Sally might be one of them. I don’t know yet.”

  “Sally?”

  “Yes.” I said firmly and looked square into Simone’s eyes so she knew I was being straight with her and also to suggest this level of information was the most she probably wanted to know.

  I got silence back from Simone and I knew my gaze had worked.

  “So the next step is for me to go back and extricate Sally. I will need cash - quite a bit of cash - so’s I can appear to be a high roller and that will hopefully get me to the inner reaches of the place.”

  “How much do you need?”

  I gave her the figure and she nodded and walked over to the payphone. When she came back, she told me she’d sorted out the money to be delivered in about an hour, so we returned to her apartment to wait the sixty minutes for the cash to appear.

  The apartment itself redefined the meaning of swanky. White leather chairs and tiger skin rugs on the floor of the living room and the centerpiece was a dramatic fireplace.

  SIMONE COILED HERSELF on one of the rugs next to the fire and patted a space next to her to encourage me to sit beside her. She’d already thrown off her shoes and was sitting there with her skirt shifted up past her knees so she could sit as though she was riding side-saddle. Her olive skin was visible around her neck too and I needed to remind myself that she was the daughter of the Don and that she and I were not the same generation and if I made a move, it would be plain wrong. But she sure looked hot on that tiger rug.

  I sat next to her to keep her happy, but I made sure there was sufficient distance between u
s so that my loins wouldn’t take over my brains. It’d happened in the past and would no doubt happen again. Just not with this babe, I reminded myself again.

  We talked the hour away - about Simone’s friends on the west coast and what she’d been up to since she ran away from home. But we were both careful not to mention Don Michael because that would break the spell. That would remind Simone of the outside world and the impending normality of living within the confines of Don Michael’s world.

  Eventually the cash arrived, and the courier drove away. I took the money from Simone and headed back to the Arab Quarter.

  A rat-a-tat on the door got it opened faster this time, now I was known by the minder. Again, I sat in the waiting room, but before I could say or do anything about Sally, the old woman scurried across the floor, grabbed me by the elbow and hustled me into the next door room, thrust me onto the floor and lit a pipe into my hand. I could do nothing but inhale deeply and let the smoke envelop me and I did this with all the love in the world for the opium in the pipe. The warm smoke filled my lungs and the opiate populated my head with thoughts.

  WITH NO IDEA how long I had been unconscious, once I realized I had been totally out of it, I checked in my pants pocket I still had Simone’s cash. Would have been terrible to have been stiffed while in an opium den. The Don would not have been happy.

  After a refreshing cup of green tea, I sat myself fully up and returned to the anteroom. I stood there for a second with the minder already holding the handle of the door to let me out and, for a second, I forgot what I was there for. Then a rush of memory slapped me in the face and I knew I needed to get down that other corridor and reach Sally.

  “Do you have anything else here to entertain a man, then?” I asked the doorman because the old woman had scurried back into whatever dark hole she’d come from.

  He nodded in the affirmative, but chose not to offer me any additional information.