ZERO HERO (The Kate Huntington Mystery series) (15 page)

            “No, not enough manpower to watch all the pimps and dealers. But... I seem to recall a rumor I heard awhile back about him branching out. One of his men bragging about how they’d all be rich, ’cause his boss was getting into bigger and better things. Let me see if I can find out any more about that.”

            “That would fit with something that happened yesterday, when I was talking to Frederico’s girls,” Skip said. “One of them tried to pick my pocket. I got the impression he’s making his girls turn in a certain number of wallets a day, as well as their other proceeds.”

            “Credit card fraud,” Judith said.

            Dolph sat up straighter. “He said something about the girls just being a sideline, the first time we talked to him.”

            “If that’s what’s going on,” Tyrell said from the phone, “it would explain a lot. That can be a pretty lucrative racket. I’ll call you all if I come up with anything.” He disconnected.

            Skip turned to Judith. “Any chance that all this gives you enough leverage to get the case reopened?”

            “I’ll run it by my lieutenant, but I’d say odds are 50/50.”

            Skip leaned forward in his chair. “Look, if we keep Pete under wraps until the case comes to trial, isn’t there a good chance he’ll be acquitted?”

            Judith looked around the room. “If anybody asks, I never said this. I think again we’re talking 50/50.”

            “I think Rob would agree with you,” Kate said. “And I’m not comfortable with leaving Pete in a safe house for months, waiting for his case to come to trial. With nobody for company but his guards, and he can’t contact his family or friends.”

           
Or go to an NA meeting.

            Judith stood up. “The artist should be here by now. Kate, you want to come with me. We’ll see if we can get a nice picture of this guy.”

            The police artist did not use pad and pencil as Kate had expected. He sat them down at a computer monitor and started asking her questions about the shape of the man’s head, his features, the length and curliness of his hair, etc. He jotted notes, then he hit a few keys on his keyboard and an image came up on the screen–the shape of a face with no features. “Let me know which one comes closest,” he said, as he slowly moved through a series of such outlines.

            When she stopped him, he asked, “Is that the right shape or does it need some tweaking?”

            “Maybe a little fuller in the cheeks.”

            He hit some keys and the cheeks puffed out a bit more.

            After an hour, Kate and the police artist had fine-tuned the sketch as much as they could. The face peering back at them on the computer screen was handsome, the small crow’s feet around the eyes the only thing that belied the boyish shape and smoothness of the skin.

            “He’s a pretty boy, ain’t he?” the artist said with a slight smirk.

            “Yeah, and that’s what worries me,” Kate said. “He’s too... generic. He looks like every classically handsome man I’ve ever seen. Hell, he even looks a little bit like my husband.”

            Judith was standing behind her chair. “I’m afraid you’re right. It’s gonna be hard for someone to pick him out of the crowd based on this picture, but I’ll circulate it with the uniforms, with a be-on-the-lookout bulletin. Let me put together some mug shots for you to look at. Can you come in tomorrow?”

            Kate groaned. She was exhausted. “I’ve got a full day tomorrow but I could come by after work.”

            “That’s fine. It’ll give us time to pull out just the guys that match this description. Otherwise it would take forever to go through all of them.” In a rare gesture, Judith put a hand briefly on her shoulder. “Good job of defending yourself. If only all women would take self-defense classes.”

            “Thanks, but it was at least half dumb luck,” Kate said as she twisted around to look up at the detective. Judith’s face sagged with fatigue.

            Kate felt a surge of empathy for this woman who was trying so valiantly to keep the bad guys under control. She stood and extended her hand to shake Judith’s. Softly she said, “There’s a lot of evil in the world, Detective. Thanks for all you do to keep it at bay.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

            On Friday morning, Skip was trying once again to get caught up on paperwork, and to
not
think about the Jamieson case.

            He was almost used to the knots in his stomach that accompanied any such thoughts, but now he had a new set of worries. His wife was in danger.

            He’d insisted on picking Kate up at her office the previous evening to take her to the police station. She’d seemed mildly annoyed but she’d gone along with the plan. They had stopped for Chinese carry-out on the way, then Kate had spent two futile hours pouring over Judith’s mug shots.

            He ground his teeth. They needed to somehow move this damned investigation forward.

            The next sheet of paper in his in-box brought home another reality. An invoice that should have been paid last week had gotten mixed in with the reports from their operatives. Between his preoccupation and Rose spending most of her time at the hospital with Mac, the agency was suffering.

            Skip had turned to his computer to pay the bill online when his phone rang.

            “Canfield.”

            He could just barely hear the timid voice on the other end. “Mr. Canfield, I may have some information for you.”

            Hope surged in his chest even as his stomach churned.

            “May I have your name, ma’am?” He kept his voice gentle, not wanting to spook the caller.

            “I’d rather not say over the phone,” the breathy voice whispered. “It’s about Jimmy. I was one of his girls. Can you meet me?”

            “Sure,” he said, ignoring his stomach.

            She gave him an address. It was just a couple blocks from where he’d talked to the prostitutes on Tuesday. “I’ll be outside. You need to act like you’re a john. I... I don’t want to end up like Jimmy.”

            Skip looked at his watch. He needed time to arrange back-up; he wasn’t about to go down there alone. “I’ll be there around one-thirty. That work?”

            “Okay,” the quiet voice agreed and hung up.

~~~~~~~~

            Skip pulled over to the curb half a block from the address the caller had given him. Several young women were standing on the sidewalk further up the street. Their outfits, which just barely covered the essential parts of their anatomy, proclaimed their profession. He squinted against the glare of sunlight coming through the windshield. The only one in the group who looked familiar was the young-looking one who had given him the speculative look on Tuesday.

            “It’s party time,” Dolph said with a slight grin. He seemed amused at the thought of Skip pretending he needed to pay for sex.

            Skip scowled at him and got out of the truck.

            When he reached the cluster of women, they gathered around him. One started stroking his arm. “Aren’t you the handsome fella now,” she purred in a rather deep voice.

            Skip gave her a hard look. Was she a
he
in drag?

            Before he could decide, he was rescued by a voice cutting through the chatter. “Sorry, ladies. He’s one of my regulars.”

            Although it was a bit louder and more strident, Skip recognized the voice from the phone. The girl-woman who’d been eyeing him on Tuesday elbowed her way through her sisters of the street. They responded with good-natured obscenities.

            She took Skip’s arm. “You got a twenty,” she whispered.

            He produced the fifty he’d put in his pants’ pocket before leaving the office. He had locked his wallet in the glove box of his truck this time but he had a couple more bills on him.

            Her eyes widened a bit, then she took the money and slipped it inside her push-up bra.

            “Ooh-la-la,” another prostitute said. “You ever get tired of Roxie, Big Boy, you keep me in mind!”

            “Come on, honey. Let’s go up to my place.” Roxie tugged Skip toward the doorway of a rundown apartment building.

            He took a closer look at the place. Maybe flop house would be a better description. While pretending to be besotted with little Roxie, Skip scanned the entranceway for signs of an ambush.

            His mouth was dry but some of his old calm seemed to be kicking in.

            According to plan, Dolph was staggering down the sidewalk toward them, pretending to be drunk.

            Roxie led Skip inside and started up a set of stairs. The odors smacked him in the face–mold, urine, stale sweat, and a few others he couldn’t name. He swallowed to quell a wave of nausea, then breathed through his mouth.

            On the second floor landing, Dolph stumbled past them and rounded the next corner of the stairwell, as if he were headed up to the next level. But once Skip and Roxie were inside her room, he would move back to her door to stand watch.

            Skip surveyed the sparsely-furnished room. It contained just a double bed, a dilapidated dresser and a small table. There was a door that probably led to a bathroom. The sheets on the bed were gray. He was fairly sure they hadn’t started out that color.

            He gestured toward the bed. “Have a seat, Miss Roxie.” He let some Texas creep into his voice. It always seemed to charm the ladies.

            Roxie shook her head. “You sit. I’ll stand.”

            Skip eyed the bed. “How ’bout we both stand.”

            Roxie bit her lower lip, then shook her head again. “I didn’t realize you were so big.” She took a couple steps back, putting the bed between them.

            Skip gingerly sat down on the corner of the sagging mattress. The possibility of bed bugs crossed his mind. He pushed the thought aside.

            Roxie moved around in front of him but stayed several feet away. “Sorry I had to bring you up here, but if that bastard Frederico got wind I was talkin’ to you, I’d be floatin’ in the harbor.”

            “I understand, ma’am. And the fifty’s yours to keep, for the information.”

            “I’ll have to give most of it to Frederico, or he’ll wanna know what I was doin’ today, instead of makin’ him money.”

            “There’s a bit more where that came from, if your information is useful. So you’re one of Frederico’s fillies now?”

            Roxie curled her lip. “Yeah, whether I like it or not. The bastard killed Jimmy and now he’s taken over his girls.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I liked Jimmy. He never beat us. Left us ’nough money to live okay.”

            “You know for a fact that Frederico killed him?” Skip asked.

            Roxie dropped her gaze to the floor. She gave a half shrug that threatened to dislodge the strap of her skimpy top from her shoulder. “He’s been talkin’ like he did. To some of us girls, at least.”

            “What has he been saying?”

            “Oh, ya know, things like, ‘Now that I’m rid of that dumbass Matthews’ and shit like that.”

           
Not exactly a full-blown confession.

            “Do you have any proof that he killed Jimmy?” Skip hoped this wasn’t a fool’s errand. He most likely wouldn’t be able to sell Judith and her lieutenant on re-opening the case just on the say-so of a skittish prostitute.

            “Not yet, but I’m gonna try to get a recording of him talkin’ ’bout it. Ya gotta understand.” Her voice took on a pleading tone. “I ain’t doin’ this for money. I want justice for Jimmy. But I gotta get out of town. Once I get the evidence, that is. Even with Frederico in jail, his boys’ll probably come after me. And nobody else will be willin’ to... ya know, work with me, ’cause I turned in my pimp.”

            The young woman’s words were plausible but the whole speech sounded rehearsed. Skip was keeping a close eye on the bathroom door that was sitting slightly ajar. “How much do you need?”

            “Couple hundred would get me a bus ticket, and help me get settled someplace new.”

            The figure was much too low. The bus ticket would eat up almost half of that, and rooms in flop houses might be cheap, but they weren’t free. She should have started much higher, to give herself some bargaining room.

            When he didn’t respond right away, Roxie made an offer that was no doubt intended to sweeten the deal. “You’re cute. I wouldn’t mind throwin’ in a little bonus.” She gave him a seductive smile that looked bizarrely out of place on her child-like face.

            Skip managed to fake a return smile. “Well now, Roxie, that’s a temptin’ offer, but I’m a married man.”

            Roxie’s expression said quite eloquently that she didn’t see how that had anything to do with anything. She took a step closer to the bed.

            He felt a surge of pity for this girl who believed her sexuality was the own leverage she had in the world. “
Happily
married,” he said gently. “I may be able to come up with a few hundred for–”

            Suddenly she was in his lap, straddling him and grinding her hips. Her miniskirt hiked up to reveal the absence of underwear.

            Skip had grabbed her by the shoulders to lift her off of him, when he noticed a disconcerting sensation. He stood up, dumping her on the floor, her skirt now around her waist, leaving her privates exposed.

            Skip towered over her, his fists clenched. “You should be very glad I don’t hit women,” he said through gritted teeth.

            A scrapping noise came from the direction of the bathroom. He glanced over. The crack between door and frame was twice the width it had been a few moments ago.

            He drew his gun. Roxie let out a shriek. He kicked the door. The center panel splintered as it crashed open.

            A scantily-clad young woman sprawled backwards against a filthy toilet. A disposable camera fell from her hand.