Trevar's Team 3

by Kieran York

  “Nobody will talk out of fear. Those three have everyone terrified. They killed Simon.”

  “You got it, lady. Talk is that Jurg and Dimitri once cranked a long screw into a guy’s upper and lower jaw. They hate snitches. Ravyn ain’t takin’ on Mickey. Jurg and Dimitri knows how to shut ‘em up. The guy starved to death.”

  “Mickey is running the threesome?”

  “They are all dangerous. They git you and you’ll be sorry.”

  It was verified. Mickey ran Sherron’s. He was Ravyn’s boss. She’d taken two chances to squeal to me.

  I thought better of the idea to pay her another visit. At least until she was ready to give up what information she had. She was probably already suspected. And she not only had warned me, she’d indicated she wanted to talk. And my buddy, Ax, had flat out warned me off more than once.

  Nobody wanted to throw out names of an establishment that was trafficking women. I wondered how deeply involved Ravyn was with the crew. She knew a load. And she wasn’t talking. When I saw that Rachel had tried to contact me, I returned her call. I told her what I’d found out, or rather not found out.

  “Pete, the gate guard from the Groversen estate, called and did have some information. He said that Johnny had returned to Palm Beach. And he’d instructed Pete that Gary was not to be given access onto the property.”

  “That was all he said.”

  “He seemed to think you’d drive there and give him enough cash to burst the seams of all his pockets.” Rachel’s laugh was a scoffing chuckle. “You must have given him a good tip.”

  “He must have spent my good tip. But I may drive to the Groversen estate to see Johnny. Or see where Johnny might be. Mr. Washington probably didn’t confide his personal agenda to Pete.”

  “That was the last part of what Pete told me. Johnny packed an overnight bag and hustled away. A woman he’s keeping company with needs some attention.”

  “I don’t want to see him in playboy mode,” I said with a shiver. “I don’t understand what women see in some men.”

  “I don’t see what Clarissa sees in you.”

  I giggled a moment. “Rachel, that’s mean.”

  “It’s only mean because it’s true. Trev, don’t mess with that woman. I like her.”

  “Rachel, we both know it might not be good. We’re so far apart. Maybe it can’t happen. I do care. Anything more?”

  “Now she’s believing it could happen.”

  I wanted the return of optimism. Belief in the possibility of a lover. “Maybe it could,” I responded.

  Rachel recommended, “If I were you, I’d give Pete a call. I don’t think he told me everything. And you need to be in person to bribe and pay for the next installment.”

  “I’ll drive by and see what else I can get.”

  “Then why don’t you drive by the book shop and see what else you can get.”

  I hung up, started the engine, and swiftly drove to the Groversen mansion to see how much money Pete would get out of me.

  When I drove to the gate, Pete grinned like a drunk sailor. “Did you have anything more to tell me?”

  “Got a hundred?”

  I fished in my pocket and pulled out a bill. “What?”

  He grasped the bill tightly. “While he was waiting for the gate to open, I overheard Johnny saying that he, Johnny, wasn’t involved in something or other. He’d just got the ball rolling. And Gary wasn’t getting introduced to anymore of his friends. It was a sham. Even his medals were shit. And Gary was a pharmaceutical expert.”

  “Gary was a pusher?”

  “I could tell that from the minute I saw the guy.”

  “Anything else?” I quizzed.

  “It’s all I got now.”

  “You have no idea what woman he went to see?”

  “Do I look like the kind a guy that travels in his circles?”

  To answer would not be in my best interest. It would be telling him what he already knew. And I definitely wanted to keep him sweet. He verified what I already knew. Gary had worn his welcome out. And the fact that he’d worn his welcome out, well, that might mean that Johnny didn’t want him around. Pete gave me a verified conversation. That meant he was a reliable confidential informant. He was well worth the money to have him on the side of Trevar Investigators.

  Pete was probably unstable, and he wasn’t a tsunami of information. Flipside, he got most of the information on point.

  Time for me, I thought as I saw the dashboard’s clock, to take over the bodyguard duties from Jill.

  I hadn’t guarded a body so wonderful for a very long time. I drove rapidly to Pages.

  I recalled this morning. Clarissa’s sherbet-lime outfit. Her smile of optimism. Her morning topaz eyes. Her hand as she smoothed stray strands of my hair from my face. The press of her breast, those magnificent leggy crushes against my own. Euphoric, enchanting visions of the woman. Those were all rhapsodic remembrances. They were enticing, tantalizing – I was even hungrier for her in my arms now. In all probability, my love interest had a day to think it over. Buyer’s remorse could have set in.

  Chapter 12

  Unlike detective work, love sharing had few, if any, negative repercussions. Clarissa was warm and willing. She shared her bed, and herself. Romance was similar, yet miles apart from crime-chasing.

  Detective work is accomplished by the ability to change and rearrange at the blink of an eye. Plans had been devised overnight, in my head.

  Of course, I was thinking of Clarissa, when we awoke. I could hear her soft breathing. I could feel her warmth as she snuggled in my arms. As she shifted in her sleep, and even when she puffed up her pillow, she felt to be a part of me that I loved more every moment.

  Through it all, I had decided what must be done with the day. I must turn my wayward attention to the murder cases.

  If the Donald Ogden murder was ever to be solved, it would need immediate attention. The consensus was that someone - X factor - had knifed Ogden. But too many little hints were cropping up as the case went on. I was of the opinion that it was one of the three people closest to him. Each time new information was exposed, I would put a different prime suspect at the top of my list. One day it would be Mona, the next day Johnny, and the next day, Gary. There wasn’t that decisive ‘gut feeling’ that usually pointed out the perp.

  I called the marina security to hire a guard to watch The Radclyffe. I knew Rachel wouldn’t be disappointed with her new task. Although it meant she would be carrying protection – the smallest Beretta produced, she wouldn’t mind the assignment. She would be hanging out with books and book-lovers. And bodyguarding the lovely Clarissa.

  This would free up Jill to locate, and to shadow Johnny Groversen. Meanwhile, Summer would be sleuthing the despicable Gary Dodge. She had rolled her eyes and complained that she’d pulled the short straw yet again. I was pretty sure she would rather have been defending the authentic, wise, and magnificent bookseller. So would I.

  However, someone needed to do the track, hunt, and pursuit concerning newfound clues. While Jill and Summer tailed suspects, Rachel was working computer trails and making phone calls while watching out for Clarissa’s safety. Rach wanted to find some of the women that were forced to deal with Gary’s advances. AKA rapes. The military made it difficult to locate the victims and the perps. They disclose as little as possible. She also checked on Johnny’s background. Mona’s background was available in the society pages of the Shiny Sheet newspaper.

  Answers would perhaps be forthcoming. We hoped, before the shade was drawn on viable information. Chief Tom Powers had no intention of wasting the taxpayer’s money by sending his busy homicide detectives on a case as dead as the victim. He considered the Ogden murder as doornail dead. He had other fish to fry. He didn’t mind our intrusion, there was plenty of crime to go around. And he preferred the possible arrest, rather than the impossible, unsolvable murder. Trevar’s Team wasn’t too choosey.

  Mandy Jewel called to set up a luncheo
n date at noon. While she had nothing earthshaking to report, she just wanted to get together. Boyd was sanding down one of her interior doors to repaint. Mandy had joked that he was good about repairing anything, and tidying up, however she didn’t want to be around the sawdust and paint.

  After a morning of chasing possible witnesses, and tips, I was exhausted. It would be wonderful to meet Mandy at Silky’s Garden Grill. Silky’s was a sweet West Palm lesbian bar. It was a neighborhood bar and grill, yet with style and amazingly great food.

  I’d parked my rental car a couple blocks away from Silky’s. No one was following me, and if there were fresh tracking devices on the vehicle, that still didn’t give away my personal location. There were mostly women in Silky’s and they were people I’d seen around before. It felt safe to chat with Mandy. We usually talked in the language of a hidden dialogue, and real-conversational words. She loved the intrigue of undercover.

  I was thrilled to be meeting at the casual, yet upscale, Silky’s. I’d dressed on the casual side of casual. With sand colored cargo pants, and a dark indigo pullover, I was set for tackling bad actors. Stylish Mandy wore rose colored crop pants, with a scoop-necked top. A coral blouson jacket was in order. The morning was besieged by fog thick as split pea soup. The skies had cleared by noon. It was now cleared, and the first thing Mandy did was remove her jacket. I was just arriving, in time to help her with her jacket.

  We hugged, and cheek-kissed. Then were seated in a booth toward the back. The next table, and the booth in front of us both had women chattering away. They weren’t in the least interested in us.

  After we ordered, Mandy confessed, “I didn’t order a fancy drink because no place makes cocktails the way I do. They leave out the fruit, the magic, and much of the rum.”

  “And the little paper umbrella,” I joked.

  “That also.” She smirked. “Boyd teases me about that constantly. He has been so helpful,” she commented.

  “I hoped he wouldn’t be an imposition.”

  “Beryl, on the contrary. He is such wonderful company. And as I’ve told you before, he’s a dear to fix everything around the apartment.”

  “And what’s new?” I quizzed.

  She frowned. “I’m not certain if I have something or not. I didn’t want to make you curious over nothing. Yesterday I met one of the gentleman I knew from years ago. He mentioned an escort service he employees now. For business entertainment. It is at an apartment building in West Palm. He didn’t give the location, but he did mention that he believed it was a place Mickey once owned.”

  “Rachel can check it out. Maybe she can get a location.”

  “Naturally, Mickey would be careful. He probably dissolved his business dealings when he went away. My previous client did ask if I’d heard of Treasure Lust. I hadn’t, but I thought it might be useful for you.”

  Pausing, I frowned. “It could be a shell company.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, too. It isn’t listed as an area business. There are so many escort services. I did a cursory check of online sex trade businesses in Palm and didn’t find anything. I’m not sure I could deal with the industry in this climate. Back when I had my service, it was strictly as law abiding as we could manage. But Beryl, now there is such a tawdry, sick element. Girls, girls, in their teens. Back in the day, men wanted women with some expertise, polish, and experience.” She paused, her gaze lowered. “We were called fancy ladies. Back then we called anyone interested in young trade pedophiles. There wasn’t enough money in the world for most of the established houses to deal with those men.”

  “Now, unfortunately, it’s a common part of society. Women, children, all for sale on the dark web. Even females are sometimes contractors. There’s indentured servitude. Girls fear being deported. And how do we combat it? Florida is a hot spot for human trafficking. It’s so pervasive. And guys like Micky cover their tracks.”

  When our plates were served, I examined the delicacies. Mandy had ordered shrimp criolla. And I’d settled on shrimp creole, along with crab cakes. We’d both ordered the homemade Key lime pie for desert.

  As we ate, our conversation continued. I explained, “I’ve never felt much of a reason to attempt to clean up the crime. It was always woman selected the profession, and now it’s different. Women are forced, captured, and it’s gotten dirty. Black-marketing women brings big revenue.” Hesitating, I looked up at the ceiling a moment. “And to be truthful, I guess I haven’t wanted to approach it.”

  “You’ve gone after killers, druggies, and every other criminal. Is there a reason?”

  Taking a deep breath, I admitted, “Maybe looking back into my history hurt too much. I could have easily been one of those kids on the streets. Shanghaied. Or talked into it while I was on the streets in my early teens. Pimps held their hostages. My escape route was libraries. As well as a plan to elude poverty.” I was sullen.

  “Some of those women make great money. Most of the women that worked at my agency made enough money to invest and get into other fields before they faded with age.”

  “You worked with them, not just protecting them, but you educated them.”

  “That was a couple decades ago. Sadly, the purchaser is still there, but the business has changed. There’s very little decorum. Tawdry. Back in the old days there was decorum.”

  I chuckled out loud. “Now I know how it was when I used to roll my eyes each time I’d hear people talk about the good old days.”

  “Back then I knew everyone in Palm Beach.” A glow of memory flashed, and then faded. “I wonder if I had as much fun as I should have. Some times were fun. Some were problem days. It is rarely easy for a woman to make it in the world. No matter the time or the profession. It’s all very complex.”

  “Speaking of complex, have you heard much of what society is thinking about the Donald Ogden murder?”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Everyone thinks it was some transient. Probably drugged up. Aren’t you working for Mona Ross?”

  “Yes. Tom Powers also is of the opinion that the killer was someone long gone now. But I’m not so sure. If you don’t mind, could you keep your ears open for anything about it?”

  She leaned forward. Her eyes shimmered. “I’d love to check on it. Beryl, I love being part of your Team.”

  “Mandy, we couldn’t have solved the last murder case without your assistance. Sleuthing comes natural to you.”

  “You can’t be a madam if it doesn’t,” she said with the gulp of a laugh.

  After I told her about Ravyn, and the deplorable conditions she’d talked about, I added, “I’m guessing that Mickey has her terrified. And Dimitri is a very desperate guy. He even spooks me.”

  “Clarissa told me about him. He’s a deranged rattlesnake. I hope you don’t tangle with any of those three. But then she also told me you’ve already encountered Dimitri.” She simpered, “You’re driving skills.”

  I chuckled. “It was funny, but with a terrifying aftermath. He’s now gunning for me.”

  “I don’t know Dimitri. I do know Mickey, and he’s dangerous. But Dimitri – and nearly running him down is seriously treacherous.”

  “He’s a wannabe gangster. But he’s a cheap knockoff version.” I grinned with mock confidence. “I didn’t want him near Clarissa.”

  Mandy and I left the restaurant. She left first, and I followed behind, watching for any signs of the nefarious threesome. Going to my rental car, I made certain Mandy had safely driven away. I looked around and was assured that I was not under surveillance. Undoubtedly the rental car that I had been fitted up with remained clean.

  Checking my phone, I saw a message to contact Summer. “Problem?” I inquired.

  “I’m not sure. I was part of the lunch crowd at the place where Gary hangs out. Gary took the same stool at the counter that he always takes. After the customers began to thin out, I noticed he was talking to the busboy. The guy was chatting with Gary something about their cause. A few minutes later they go to the me
n’s restroom. I got near, but I couldn’t hear anything. I burst in, and they were talking, but I didn’t get much of their conversation. Immediately I excused myself, saying I’d gone to the wrong door.”

  “What was their response?”

  “Not much, they just stared at me. But something was going down. I didn’t see any drugs, and they weren’t grabbing a nooner.” She paused, “Both of them had their zippers in place. But something was going on.”

  “What did the kid look like?”

  “Every supremacist you’ve ever envisioned. There were questionable tats on his arms. Nazi leaning. He was trying to conceal them with a long-sleeved shirt.”

  “And he’s with an ex-military man.”

  “That means nothing these days, Trev. Some of these men have served. They became malcontents. Turn their hatred back at the country. I talked with Rachel, and Gary’s records don’t indicate he had PSTD or anything. Never was in a combat zone. The only combat he ever saw was probably when he was raping a woman, and he got kneed by an unwilling participant.”

  A sickness came over me. The busboy could be a homegrown terrorist. A confluence of events, and it’s a kid terrorist working with a dissatisfied ex-soldier. Their paths intersected. And perhaps ignited terror.

  “As I recall Gary stays in at night, so he’s probably not going anywhere. Maybe you can wait until the busboy goes off duty, and you can scratch around with his coworkers, and maybe boss. Find out his name, and any additional information. Then report your findings to Rachel. Since Gary probably is in for the night, you might ask Rach if she needs help. Or ask if Jill needs help tailing Johnny.”

  The currency we needed to use to solve the cases was trust. Locating any and all information. Every little detail, with one another’s assistance. When Summer and I hung up, I called Rachel to find out if she came up with anything. She laughed when Clarissa looked at the screen of Rachel’s computer. It flashed brothel’s and pimps on the screen. Clarissa was amused. She accused Rachel of searching for a date while she was supposed to be working. Rachel teased back that when she was finished with tracking brothels and pimps, she would be checking out porn filmmakers and strip joints. We knew of one, Sheeran’s Club, but there were probably more. My guess was that Mickey Coleman was a busy guy.