Authors: Teri Riggs
“No one’s touched it except me.”
“Was it was sealed inside the envelope when you received it?” “Yes.”
“Who gave the envelope to you, Mr. Hershey?”
“One of the kids from the mailroom delivered it during the one o’clock run.”
“Including the mailroom and the US Postal Service, how many people would you guess handled it before it actually landed on your desk?”
“I have no idea. But I do see what you’re saying, Detective O’Brien. No telling how many touched the envelope, but I can assure you, I’m the only person to handle the picture. I was the one to open it and have had it in my possession ever since.”
Hershey offered the picture to Wilder, who slipped on a pair of latex gloves before taking it. He took a long look and whistled. “Oh shit.”
Wilder passed it to Kennedy, who had pulled on her own gloves. She felt her throat tighten when she recognized the dead woman in the picture. “You can say that again.”
“Mr. Hershey, do you recognize the woman in this photo?”
“I saw her Jane Doe picture in a media release this morning, but other than that, no.”
She glanced at the photo. The picture was real, definitely not a prank. It was the prostitute who’d been murdered in the alley the night before. In the photo, she lay dead, in the same position as she’d been found. Her eyes were staring straight up into the hazy night. Written in bold, black ink across the top of the picture was the word AFTER.
Kennedy exchanged a long look with Wilder.
Now the BEFORE written across the other picture made some sense.
Leaving
the downtown area, Wilder and Kennedy drove past the now defunct Pioneer Club with the ever smiling, famous Vegas Vic sign sitting high on its perch. At one time, the forty-foot-tall neon cowboy had greeted visitors with a waving arm and a moving cigarette that blew smoke rings.
“Kenny, check out Vegas Vic. He’s winking at you.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Wilder? It’s a damn sign.” “I’m just screwing around. You really need to lighten up some.” Kennedy refused to respond.
“When I talked to Sparky and Lenny, they said you were still at Metro when they came in this morning.”
“And your point is?”
“You should have gone home and gotten some
re
st
.
Like a normal person.”
“I did go home. I slept and I showered. And I am a normal person.” One that has a few issues, but hey, who doesn’t?
“Did you update your home murder board and spend hours studying it?”
She cringed. Her partner knew her too well. “I may have looked it over once or twice. But, I didn’t spend hours on it, not that it’s any of your business.”
“You need to have a life outside the job. Hell, even Vegas Vic has a girlfriend and he’s a damn neon sign. When’s the last time you even had a date?”
She looked out the window at the neon cowboy, then at the neon cowgirl sign on top of the Glitter Gulch topless club, and then back at Wilder.
“Vegas Vicky? Give me a break, here.”
His voice deepened, almost to a whisper. “Oh yeah, Vegas Vicky. What a neon babe.” Then Wilder had the balls to wink at her. “I dig her cowgirl boots.”
“You’re sick, Wilder.”
He glanced sideways at her.
“Keep your eyes on the road.” She hadn’t meant to snap.
“What are you so sour about, Kenny?” He laughed. “You just realizing a freaking neon babe has a boyfriend and you don’t?”
She couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at her mouth and had to look away before he saw. “Wilder, this conversation is so over.”
“Look on the bright side.” She faced him again, just in time to see his wicked
smile.
“There’s a bright side?”
“Oh, yeah.” He winked at her. “At least you don’t have to worry about some other neon babe shining your guy’s bulbs.”
“Like I said, Wilder, you’re one sick puppy.”
T
hey
dropped the AFTER photo and envelope off at the crime lab, and then swung by Metro to pick up the list of possible persons of
intere
st
.
The short list included two ex-cons with known tendencies for attacking prostitutes, and a pimp who frequently used violence to convince freelance hookers to work for him.
Wilder tapped on the list in her hand. “When did you find the time to narrow this down?”
“I called in a favor. Leslie Meeks in Cyber Crimes weeded out all but about ten possibles. Then Tenuta and Sparks took over, flashed photos of the ten around the crime scene area and poof, turns out these three bozos were seen by witnesses last night at various times.”
“Reliable witnesses?”
“About as reliable as anyone who regularly hangs out around Hooker Haven
is.”
“Great.” She felt the same doubt she heard in his voice.
“I thought we’d start with Willy B. Slick, a pimp just making a name for himself and building up his stable of working girls.”
Wilder snorted. “Willy B. Slick? Where do these guys come up with such Godawful names?”
“You’ve got room to talk, Wild Thing.”
“That’s different, it’s just a nickname and I didn’t pick it. Your dad always called me that... for obvious reasons.”
“My Da did that to you? Stuck you with that nickname?” Kennedy laughed at the thought. “And you still considered him your best friend?”
“Best friends and partners. Your father always did have a warped sense of humor.”
“I’d say. Anyway, Willy’s got a place over on Washington Street and 5th near the crime scene. It’s early; should be easy enough to find him.”
“Right in the heart of Hooker Haven. What a classy guy.”
The classy guy had a classy apartment above a small cash and carry liquor store that stocked only the finest in rot-gut booze and stale, expired cigarettes. The paint on the wood of the door leading to the apartment’s stairwell was cracked and peeling. A rusty, four-compartment, metal mailbox hung at a precarious angle by one nail. Trash and used syringes littered the landing at the foot of the stairs.
Kennedy kicked a smashed, Styrofoam coffee cup out of her way and a cockroach the size of a small Chihuahua ran out from it. “I bet the rent is cheap in this place.”
Wilder eyes followed the cockroach. “Comes furnished... with pets.”
“Wilder, you keep telling me I should get a pet. I should look into leasing an apartment here.”
“I was thinking about something with a little more fur, maybe with a tail that wags when you come home at the end of the day.”
“And eats the furniture to keep from starving to death and pees all over the place because I’m never there.”
“Then get a cat. They can take care of themselves.” The man had an answer for everything.
Reaching the top of the stairs, Wilder and Kennedy each stood on one side of the apartment’s door and unlocked their holsters.
Wilder knocked.
Kennedy shouted, “Metro PD.”
Wilder pounded harder on the door and nodded to Kennedy. Hearing feet scuffle past the door on the other side, they both drew their firearms from their holsters and held them with firm grips, straight and steady, at shoulder level in front of them.
“Metro PD, Willy. Open the door.”
Just as Wilder reached out to knock one final time, the door cracked open, and a flume of marijuana smoke billowed out.
A thin black man waved both hands uselessly at the cloud of smoke. “Yo, man. What does Metro Po-Po want with Willy?”
Wilder said, “Are you Willy B. Slick?”
“That depends.” The man’s eyes were dilated as wide as Kennedy had ever seen.
“We’d like to ask you a few questions, Willy. Let us in.”
“You got a warrant or somethin’ that says I gots to let you in?”
Kennedy coughed and used one of her hands to wave the smoke away. “Don’t need it, Willy. We’ve got probable cause to search the property. That grass you’re smoking has left a cloud of smoke that’s floated all the way to Toledo.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s just cigarette smoke. Ain’t nobody tokin’ in here. Leave me be.”
Wilder leaned into the door with his shoulder and pushed it open. Kennedy quickly spun Willy around to face the wall and cuffed him.
“What you go and do that for? I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”
After pushing Willy down onto a bright orange Naugahyde couch, Kennedy cleared the small living room of the apartment, the miniscule bathroom and then stepped to the bedroom door, ready to make a sweep of it. She nodded at Wilder, who dragged Willy up and to the window with him. He drew back the curtain and looked out onto the fire escape.
“It’s clear out here.” He pulled Willy back to the center of the room and gave her a quick nod.
Kennedy swung the bedroom door open and gasped before covering her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Shit!”
She heard the sound of Wilder chambering a bullet, ready to back her up. Kennedy’s shoulders were heaving and when she saw the confused look on Wilder’s face, she laughed harder.
“What?” Wilder moved to Kennedy’s side, looked inside the bedroom, and smiled. In the center of the room was an older man using a cane to stand. Kneeling in front of him was a woman with her lips firmly attached to his family jewels.
Kennedy snorted. She laid a hand on Wilder’s arm. “This is more than I needed to see.” She tipped her head toward the odd couple. “You deal with them. I’ll talk to Willy.”
Wilder lowered his weapon when the old man grabbed for the pants wrapped around his knees, at the same time using his cane to push at the woman with the Hoover-like grip on his dick.
“I’m only here for a blow job. I’m not doing the drugs. I don’t believe in using them for recreation. At my age, I’ve got more than enough meds I have to take.”
“Oh no you don’t.” Kennedy pushed past Wilder and grabbed Willy just as he was about to clear the apartment door, still wearing her handcuffs. She pushed him backwards to the couch.
“Sit!”
“I’m just havin’ one of my girls service a horny old dude needin’ to work off a round of Viagra. I run a legal operation here, Miss Po-Po.”
Muffled voices came from the bedroom. Ignoring them, she stepped closer to Willy and holstered her weapon.
“Willy, Willy, Willy.” She tsked while shaking her head. “There’s nothing legal about smoking weed. I could haul your ass in for that alone. I’d be willing to bet you’re getting pretty damned close to your ‘three strikes, you’re out’ limit.”
“No need to take me to the pokey. I ain’t botherin’ nobody here. Me and my girls, we stay out of trouble.”
“Well, speaking of your girls, Willy, have you been looking to add any new girls to your assortment lately?”
“I’m always lookin’ to add more bitches. I’m a businessman after all.”
She pulled him up by his shirt until he was standing in front of her. “You like to rough up the girls you’re trying to convince to work for you, Willy?”
“I only smack my bitches around if they be needin’ it. The customers don’t like seein’ bruises on the merchandise.” He smiled. “Unless they put the marks there themselves.” He twisted, trying to shake her loose. “What’s this all about? You here about the bitches or the weed?”
“I’m asking if you got a little rough with one of your girls in the alley behind Trixy’s Toy Box late last night. Maybe a new girl you couldn’t persuade to join your little money-making flock.”
“I wasn’t nowhere near Trixy’s Toy Box last night. I went over to Pahrump to pick up a couple of my bitches from a private party. The place was rockin’. I threw in a little extra time with my girls and got invited to party with the dudes. We partied the rest of the night. We didn’t drive back until this morning.”
“I assume you can give me the names of the dudes in Pahrump?” “I’m telling you the truth, Miss Po-Po.”
“Names, Willy.” He hesitated. Kennedy turned and yelled towards the bedroom. “Wilder, we’re taking Willy in on possession charges. Let’s go.”
Willy started to dig in his back pocket with his cuffed hands.
Kennedy slapped them down. “Whoa, Willy. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“You want a name? I need to get in my pocket.” “How about I get in your pocket?”
Kennedy didn’t wait for an answer. She reached in to his back pocket and brought out a scrap of paper. A phone number and address was scribbled on it.
Willy nodded at the paper. “That’s the main dude’s number and address. Go ahead and call.”
Wilder came out of the bedroom, the old man and hooker walking in front of him. Kennedy couldn’t help but noticed the old guy’s pants were still tented as he left the apartment. The hooker flopped down on the couch and began to chew on her nails.
“We taking Willy in?”