Trevar's Team 3

by Kieran York

  “What?” she quizzed.

  “Potato cubes with spice mixture.” I questioned, “What time will Mandy and Boyd get here?”

  “Six o’clock. We’ll be guarding the marina. Make sure they get aboard okay.”

  “Once they’re aboard, we’ve got enough alarms to make sure anyone asks permission to board.” I smiled. We were usually secure. “It sounds like a very entertaining evening. We’ve been so busy, none of us have had much R & R.”

  It was needed, I thought. A night of calmness, camaraderie, good music, a feast, and all of us getting to know one another. Jill was correct. Clarissa was probably soon going to want to know about a future. We’d only talked about it briefly. We knew where one another was. She wanted tranquility, but for right now, she would settle for my remaining in my oft dangerous career.

  “You’re going to Sheeran’s Club now?” Jill questioned.

  “Yes. I’ll check in with Rachel when I get there. I want to make sure we all are checking in with Rach. Since I’m going to Sheeran’s Club, there’s always a chance Dimitri and Mickey will drop by.”

  As promised, when I arrived at the sleazy strip club, I called Rachel. The car lot was nearly empty. There was no sign of any recognizable car of the mob. Once inside, I asked the bleary-eyed man at the counter about questioning some of the women. He said their rate is two-hundred an hour. I told him I’d just wander around and look. He said looking was only a hundred an hour. I told him how he could keep himself occupied. Very unpleasant, but he didn’t want a scene and perhaps police presence, so he ignored me.

  Walking across what looked to be a dance floor, I checked the rooms where Ravyn had been seated in a makeup chair with mirrors. Probably two-way mirrors. One woman walked in, and I asked her if she knew any of the three men. She told me she had no problems and wanted no problems. I assumed her response was similar to what I told the jackal at the entrance. The filthy place with its cheap smelling air freshener killed any sex drive I might have while there. So, the women could consider themselves safe. At least safe from me. I wouldn’t vouch for the run of the mill misogynist visiting the strip club.

  A cleaning woman glared at me, when I asked her about the three bosses. Her eyes widened. “You don’t wanna come in here asking about them guys.”

  “I just did ask. Can you help me?”

  “Hell no, I’m busy.”

  “It doesn’t appear that you’ve been terribly busy cleaning. There’s films of filth throughout the place. Sort of layered,” I added for a touch of drama. “I’m trying to find out about Simon Wagoner.”

  “You a cop?”

  “No. A private investigator.” I pulled a fifty from my pocket. “I really want to know who Simon knew.”

  “He had his hair cut two blocks south. On the corner. Maybe the barber could help you.” Her hand popped out. It opened widely. I gave the fifty.

  I escaped the club. It was currently called a sex club. Back a couple decades, it was a den of iniquity. That always stuck in my mind because an older neighborhood gang of girls always bullied me. I was probably eight or so, and they were preteen. One told me my mother got her money at a den of iniquity. I’d never heard of it before. For all I knew, my mother was a drunk claims adjuster, or a dancer. She’d always told me that she was practicing to be on Broadway. I didn’t think den of iniquity had anything to do with Broadway. If the girl would have come out with whore I would have understood.

  This thought careened into wondering how I survived childhood. That fear was never far from the surface.

  The barber didn’t know a thing, other than Simon was a nice man. He didn’t mind if his hair was shabbily clipped, as long as it was short enough to be comfortable in the water. The barber recalled him bragging about going down deeper than other divers.

  I wondered if Simon might have redistributed the coins, and any other items he may have stolen. Taken a pouch and filled it. Then placed it underwater, somewhere only he, or an accomplice, could find. But that, I argued, would be impractical. However, he didn’t sound as though he was a Brainiac. Could be he didn’t care if it wasn’t the most practical way of stealing a fortune in gold.

  I made a few neighborhood stops at little shops in the area. No one even recognized the name or photo of Simon. After batting out several times, I gave it up. I wasn’t optimistic. I was realistic. No one knew much about Simon. They wouldn’t have been receptive to tell me if they did. I probably looked like a bill collector.

  Because the celebratory dinner cooking was being left up to me, I decided to get started making the feast early.

  I went directly back to our yacht to begin the sumptuous, elegant dinner. Jill would be arriving back, and she’d be bringing Clarissa. Jill would then hop in the shower and dress up a tad. Summer finally rolled in. She complained that Ax had threatened to behead her, but she used my name, and he settled down.

  Summer called Ax a crazy old coot. That probably wasn’t the wisest of confidential informant/detective pairings.

  As soon as I’d finished preparing most of the dinner, I raced down to grab a shower, and fix myself up a bit. I heard Jill and Clarissa arrive. My hair was taking forever to dry, and to get the curls just right. When I’d finished mitigating the tired face, and embattled body, I went up the galley to check on the cuisine. Rachel had given Summer and Clarissa drinks. Jill had gone out to the marina’s parking area, to escort Mandy and Boyd.

  When they came through the door, I might very well have fainted.

  Mandy indeed had hidden Boyd’s identity. She had dressed him in drag, to duplicate my look. Which of course, since we were nearly identical, he nailed perfectly.

  Boyd grumble as he stomped into the dining area. Mandy waved a pitcher of her famous Hurricane Mandy cocktails. She brought her specialty. It was a combo of vodka, rum and fruit.

  It felt as though my jaw had dropped to the floor and been bolted there. My charming cousin – in drag. I finally uttered, “Oh, Boyd. I can’t imagine how she talked you into going in drag.”

  “She was the best madam in Florida for four decades. She could have talked me into becoming a Cher double.” He huffed, “But never again.” To me he said, “Thank goodness, you’re a slightly androgynist.” He kicked off his shoes. And yanked off the curly, blond wig. We all thought it was hilarious. I was not certain he considered it all that amusing.

  Mandy quoted one of the old Palm Beach bons mots. “Boyd, darling, failure is never fatal. Your lipstick is slightly crooked.” He twisted his lips. She then bragged about her makeup job on Boyd. “I know my way around drag queens,” she said, expressing pride.

  Beginning with a toast to the resolution of the Donald Ogden homicide, we started out with joy. Yet we all knew, war had been declared on a major crime syndicate, and we would soon be meeting up with them. It was inevitable.

  We were seated, and joked, laughed, drank, and ate. It was indeed a wondrous evening of getting to know everyone better. Jill had always wanted to be in enforcement. She said she was always the bossiest kid on the block. Summer simpered, commenting that she could believe it. Jill asked what Summer had wanted to be. Summer replied, she wanted to be free of all the bosses in the world. That could have been why she was such a troubled teen.

  Rachel and I traded glances, hoping it wouldn’t get out of hand. But everyone had laughed. I looked around the table. Realizing that it had been too long since getting together in a group, I smiled a very credible smile. I reached to squeeze Clarissa’s hand. I felt her grip tightening, then she questioned, “Am I holding on too tightly?”

  Before I had time to consider it, I was saying, “You’re holding on just tightly enough.”

  We leaned nearer together to kiss. Everyone at the table clapped. Clarissa and I didn’t let go to join in the clapping. We just held on.

  I liked to think it was at that moment when I first conceded that I’d fallen in love with her. But we were both certain that it was a great deal earlier. Whatever, I wasn’t just smitten.r />
  After dinner, we played board games, and it was the most congenial evening I’d ever spent. While the others accompanied Mandy and Boyd to their car, Clarissa and I went out to walk on the deck. The moonlight was elegant. Life was elegant.

  Hearing the laughter across the marina seemed magical. Exactly like the tenderness of Clarissa’s touch. I traced the shadows on her face. “You’re lovely,” I whispered.

  “I’ve always felt somewhat plain. Unadorned.”

  “Have you ever considered how beautiful your unadorned face is?”

  She chuckled. “That was your best pickup line?”

  “I’ve never used lines,” I said as I grinned back at her. “But if I were using one on you, I might tell you that I’m falling in love with you.”

  “Keep falling. I’ll catch you.”

  There was believability in my simple, uncomplicated response. “Okay.”

  She neared. As our cheeks brushed, she said, “Okay.”

  By the time Clarissa and I had made it to my stateroom, we were exhausted. She and Jill would drive to Pages early so she could deal with some orders being delivered. She also would finish checking out the credentials of a potential new employee. Books and employees were her life. Meanwhile, I would go back out on the streets and pursue strippers, barbers, bouncers, and other assorted characters.

  Admittedly, Clarissa made me happy. Also making me, if not happy, certainly fulfilled, was chasing an assortment of dangerous, loony, weird people, and criminals.

  Pursuing criminals by the sidecar full was my profession.

  Chapter 17

  The sunrise was perfect. The woman was perfect. Waking in her arms was the purest perfection I could imagine.

  It all fell apart from there. I was living in a day that deteriorated by the hour.

  Jill and Clarissa had gone to Pages early. Rachel and I had recapped yesterday’s information. Laughing about how uncomfortable Boyd was wearing his twin-Beryl outfit, we agreed that was the highlight of the evening’s celebrations. Summer was spending the morning attempting to locate anyone in anyway affiliated with Simon.

  By noon I had scrambled to locate Ravyn, hoping she might have thought about where Simon kept his things. Documents, a file. She knew it existed. But it was not at her home, and not at Sheeran’s Club. If it had been left aboard the treasure hunting ship, it was found by Mickey et al, and destroyed.

  Finally, she returned my call. When I inquired about Simon having a bank safety deposit box, or any lockbox, she nixed the idea saying, he hated banks. She abruptly disconnected the call.

  Frustration was building.

  Thinking luck was changing, I suddenly saw a call coming in from Ravyn. She was panicked. She gave directions to an intersecting street a few blocks away where we could meet. I speedily drove there. She immediately got into the passenger’s side. “Quick, they’re after me.” Her face was flushed, and her right eye had been blackened. “They’ll kill me. They’ll kill us both.”

  My rental car squealed away from where I’d pulled over to pick her up. I directed it toward the city justice building. Calling Tom, I gave him a brief background, and asked him to have black and whites meet me in the parking area. I also had a car description, and name of driver. It was Dimitri.

  On the drive, through Ravyn’s hysterical screaming, the words were chilling. “Please, don’t let them get me. They rape women. Torture them. Dimitri prides himself on raping virgins, young girls. He says he was givin’ ‘em a test drive. Beryl, I wanted to tell you. To confess and report them. I was afraid. Women that have betrayed them go missing.”

  “Where do you think they’d take a woman? Where’s this place – their hideout?”

  “I’d tell you if I knew. It’s always been a secret. The place is filled with teenagers, young women, recruited or kidnapped. And they have an escort service, porn, the sex trade.”

  “Do they call it Treasure Lust?”

  “Simon didn’t want me to know anything. He knew it was dangerous.”

  As I parked at the Justice Building, my stomach lurched. Women in bondage. Young teens in bondage. My anger raged. “The police will shield you, Ravyn.”

  “I wanted to tell you, they want to kill you as bad as they want to kill me.”

  Ravyn was being escorted in by two beefy, strong policemen. That made me feel somewhat safer for her, but also, they wanted to kill me. They might go after Clarissa. I called with a quick alert to Rachel, to have her dispatch Summer to Pages.

  That was too late. Jill had called for a rescue response unit to Pages. Breathlessly, Jill reported that the driver of a book delivery truck had been hijacked. Clarissa was abducted. Dimitri and Mickey had pistol-whipped the delivery person. They had then knocked on the backdoor. Clarissa had the key to open the door. She looked first to check who it was. She saw the delivery truck. When she opened her door, she was grabbed by Dimitri and Mickey. The two men then carried a fighting, screaming Clarissa to their car.

  Jill had been standing guard at the front of the store. She jumped into action, running to the back. She fired shots at the thug’s car. She didn’t want to hit Clarissa, so she aimed to shoot the tires out.

  Clarissa was now the hostage of two vicious men. And I was heartsick. Helplessly heartsick. I had no idea where they might have taken her.

  I got back in my rental, not knowing where to go first. Rachel had contacted Boyd and Mandy. Cautioning them to bolt their doors. The incoming call was Boyd. “I was thinking about Simon,” he divulged, “and I suddenly remembered something. It was just one line. Never mentioned it again. Beryl, he said he had to stop off at his gym. Gyms have lockers. But who is dumb enough to leave documents there?”

  “Simon. Did he mention the gym’s name?”

  “No, but it must have been somewhere near the Blue Sea Bar. He said he was stopping off for a drink after dropping by the gym.”

  “Thanks, Boyd. Now stay undercover. Stay on line. I’m putting you on speakerphone with Rachel and Summer. I turned on my conferencing speakerphone. I quickly began driving toward the Blue Sea Bar. Rachel reported, “They’re dispatching a police unit to Mandy’s apartment.”

  Boyd broke in, “Beryl, ask them if they’ll trade Clarissa for me. I’m the one they want.”

  “It doesn’t work that way with these people. They’re panicking and they’ll kill everyone in their way. Just say safe. Shelter in place.” I disconnected Boyd’s line.

  Driving rapidly, as I talked, I told Summer where I was. Also, that she should meet me near the bar. I instructed Rachel to pull Jill into the area ASAP. “Rach, I know Jill is giving a police report on the abduction but tell Tom to make it quick. And check out addresses of gyms or fitness centers in the area.”

  “Summer is on her way.”

  “Rach, if Jill is still at headquarters, have her ask Ravyn which gym Simon belonged to.”

  When I was almost to the Blue Sea Bar, Rachel radioed, “Jill said that Ravyn told her Simon used the gym on the opposite corner and down three blocks south of the bar.”

  “Send Summer, I’m almost there now.”

  As I pulled up to the fitness facility, I saw Summer exiting her car. We rushed into the vestibule of the gym.

  There we were met by two of the most muscle-bound men I’d ever seen try to block me. “Out of the way. I’m on police business.” I flashed my P.I. credentials. It could have been FBI for all the muscle heads knew.

  “Come on, you horny broads are always coming in trying to feed us bull. Get a new excuse,” one of them said with a sputter.

  “I need the locker number of Simon Wagoner. And I need it now,” I replied with the fiercest frown I had ever issued. “It’s a matter of life and death. Damn it, tell me.”

  Summer wasn’t messing around. She pulled her pistol from its holster. Grabbing the shirt of the desk clerk, she waved the gun under his chin. “Talk!” she instructed.

  “What the hell,” he looked startled. “Simon’s dead. But his locker number is 77
4.” He pointed to the locker room.

  Summer and I stormed in, checking numbers. When we finally found 774, the padlock appeared to be what they might have used at Fort Knox years back. “No key,” I muttered.

  Summer put her gun beneath the lock. “Stand back. We got our key.”

  The explosive sound of steel shrapnel lifting up to the ceiling shocked the two men who had followed us into locker room. “Holy shit!” the larger of the two exclaimed. “You messed up the locker, and the ceiling.”

  “Send the bill to Trevar Investigators,” I replied. As the locker door sprang open, I saw the envelope file folder. Grabbing it, I followed Summer out to the parking lot. We got into her car, and I pulled a half inch stack of papers from the folder. I divided the papers. We both began perusing each page of each paper.

  “Bingo,” I exclaimed. “MC’s Treasure Chest Lust is located at…” before I could get out the address Summer’s vehicle was spinning through the gravel parking area, she was at the cross road when I added the address. I called out as the GPS was giving directions. “Rach, did you get that!”

  “Roger, I just texted the address to Jill.”

  We were high-velocity women, if nothing else, we’d always joked. And with Clarissa endangered, I was pretty sure everyone was pulling out the stops.

  In less than ten minutes, Summer’s vehicle skidded to a stop outside what looked like a regular apartment complex. Somewhat substandard, but it was fancy enough to bring the perverts in for their hour of inhuman sexual escapades with young girls.

  Breaking into the lobby, with guns drawn, Summer and I took aim at the huge, block-of-a-man desk clerk. “Where did they take the captive woman?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied with the glimmer of a grin.

  Summer backhanded him across his jaw. “Work on your memory, you flipping asshole.”

  He reached for his mouth. “Mickey and Dimitri are up top. Penthouse.”