Death of an Escort (21 page)

"Who are you," I whispered.

"George," he said. "Who are you?"

I jammed the gun up under his chin. "Is
Richie here?"

"Yes," he said.

"Who else is here?"

"There are three of us, but . . ." He trailed
off.

"But what?"

"Nothing," he said.

I jammed the gun so hard into the underside
of his neck that his head was forced way back so that he was
looking straight up at the ceiling.

"What were you going to say?"

"There's about a dozen more coming over in a
few minutes," he said.

"What?"

"Yeah. So whoever you are, you should
probably get the hell out of here."

I released the pressure from under his chin
and grabbed the hair at the top of his head.

"Why are those guys coming over here?"

"To watch the pay-per-view fight," he
said.

"I need to see Richie," I said.

"Listen guy," he said. "They all got guns in
there. You walk in there, you're going to get one in the head."

"So, walk in with me," I said.

"And then I might get one in the head
too."

"Why?"

"I'm his bodyguard," he said.

I had to hold myself back from laughing.
"You're the bodyguard?"

He nodded.

"A rather lousy job you've done so far," I
said.

"But you had a key. Somehow you got in," he
said trying to defend himself.

"Yeah," I said. "And you're wearing a robe
and slippers."

"Come on guy," he said. "I live here. It's
evening."

"I guess we need to work together," I said.
"I want to see Richie, and you don't want to get shot."

"What do you want with Richie anyway?"

"I got questions about a website," I
said.

"That's it?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's it," I said.

"What website?" he asked.

"YouDisgustMe.com"

"Never heard of it," he said.

"And you're an incompetent bodyguard too," I
said.

He bristled, but I jabbed the gun into his
chest and he quieted down again.

"Call Richie," I said.

"What?"

"I said call Richie. Get him over here."

"Are you insane?"

"Mostly," I said.

"He'll come around the corner, see this, and
then lead is going to start flying."

There was a knock at the door.

Chapter 20

"Shit," the bodyguard said.

I stepped back. "You want to get that?"

"With you standing right there?"

"Go ahead," I said.

He stepped forward, but I clocked him. Hard.
He dropped like a rock and my fist really hurt.

There was a coat closet near the front door,
and I dragged him into it. The knock came at the door again.

I jammed my pistol into my pants and covered
it with my shirt. Then I opened the door.

Four or five men stood there. They looked at
me but didn't enter.

"Hey, we got the right one?" one of them
asked.

"Yeah, says right on the door 7105," another
answered.

The one in front said, "Who are you?"

"I'm new," I said. "I'm helping Richie with
some domestic stuff."

"Domestic stuff?" The guy chuckled.

"I thought he had that broad he was doing
helpin' around the place," he said.

"Her too," I said, playing along.

"Well, can we come in?"

I stepped to the side. I had no idea how this
was going to end, but I had a bad feeling it was going to get
bloody. Really, really bloody.

They all stepped in, and I shut the door
behind them. I did the sign of the cross. God forgive me. I was
going to have so much to confess next time I went to
confession.

They all walked out of the entry and out of
site deeper into the place. I heard greetings being exchanged
loudly.

It was time. I walked in behind them. The
room grew silent when those sitting saw me.

There were maybe ten or so in the room now,
counting those who'd just walked in too.

"Who are you?" one of the sitting guys
asked.

"Ain't he your domestic help?" one of the new
ones asked.

The guy who must be Richie shook his
head.

It was time. I brought the gun out. I leveled
the bead on the closest guy and fired. I aimed at the next and
fired again.

Two bodies dropped.

I got two more of them before I had to duck
back. They had their guns out too.

Three bullet holes tore into the wall behind
where I'd been standing.

With all the noise, the neighbors would be
reporting this. I was going to need to move fast, or I was going to
end up in a very tight jam. Not that that was anything new to
me.

A gun appeared around the corner, and then a
guy. I jumped sideways and his shot missed me.

My ears were ringing from all the shots
inside such a tight place.

I kicked the guy in the nuts and using him as
a shield I went back out into the hall way.

Everyone held their fire.

Richie stood up. "What's this about?"

Instead of answering, I started shooting. I
got two more before the last two ducked behind furniture. Richie
tried to take cover behind the big screen TV.

I marched my human shield, who still hadn't
recovered from the nut kick, deeper into the room. From there I
killed the last two. Then I shot the guy I was holding in front of
me.

I let him drop to the ground.

"Come out Richie. We got to talk."

He came out with his hands up. Remarkably, he
did look a lot like me.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"A private investigator," I said.

"You are not," he said derisively. "Don't lie
to me."

"Really, I am," I said.

"That doesn't make any sense. No PI I know of
would do what you did. Do you have any idea what the consequences
will be?"

"You're in a poor position to be
threatening," I said. I had the gun pointed at him.

"Sorry. You're right," he said. "I mean to
say that maybe we could work something out. I could use a soldier
like you. You're no regular civilian."

"Let's get real, Richie. Soon security or the
police will be here."

"Why?" he asked.

"The gun fire, stupid," I said.

He smirked. "Due to the recession, this floor
is vacant. I'm the only one up here. No one heard."

He paused to let that sink in. Then he
continued, "I'm serious about recruiting you. We can move beyond
this. I could really use your help."

"Richie," I said. "I need you to listen
closely. I've got some questions for you. Answer honestly to stay
alive. A dishonest answer gets you shot."

His eyes moved around the room to the dead
bodies.

"Exactly," I said. "I don't think I have to
try very hard to prove my point. I'm serious. Deadly serious."

"Okay?"

"Do you know about the website
YouDisgustMe.com? And Richie, the correct answer is 'yes'. Don't
make me shoot you on the first question."

"Are you a federal cop?" he asked
suspiciously.

"I told you. I'm a private investigator."

"Yeah, I don't buy that, but yes, I know
about the website."

"Tell me about it," I said.

He made a face like the whole conversation
was beneath him. "It's a porn site."

There was a knock at the door.

"You were expecting more?" I asked.

Slowly, he nodded.

Why did things always have a way of going
from bad to worse?

"Well, they can't come in here." Besides the
dead bodies, blood was everywhere. The carpeting was white, and the
stains were more than obvious even if the bodies were removed.

"Well, I can't put them in the bedroom," he
said. "That would make them suspicious."

"Tell them to leave."

"Are you kidding?" he asked. "They wouldn't
think its normal. These aren't stupid Joe's I got coming over."

I rubbed my forehead in frustration. "Richie,
I intend to walk away from here alive. If I've got to shoot my way
out, I will. But here's the thing. If you want to stay alive
yourself, you'll get them the hell out of here. Okay?"

"Fine," he said. "I got suddenly sick. Does
that work, boss?"

"Get up and answer the door," I said.
"Remember, I got no problem pulling the trigger. You know I will.
So keep it straight."

"Yeah. Got it," he said.

He was amazingly cool under pressure. I have
to say I was impressed. He got up and went to the door. I kept my
distance while keeping the gun on him.

He answered the door and told the guys
outside that he'd suddenly come down with something. He wouldn't
let them in for fear that they'd get it. Eventually, he convinced
them to leave.

My hand holding the gun was sweating. I kept
expecting him to blow it. If that had happened, then I would have
had to shoot him, but then all hell would have broken loose. They'd
be more heavily armed. It would have taken a miracle to get me out
of that one alive.

The gun was slippery by the time he closed
the door on them.

We went back into the living room. I switched
hands on the gun and dried my hand.

Back in the living room, windows lined the
far wall and showed a spectacular view of the city.

"Now, tell me about the website," I said.

"I really don't know much about it," he said.
"It's not my job to run it."

"What kind of a website is it?"

"Porn," he said.

"What kind of porn?"

"It's a rape site," he said and he seemed a
little ashamed.

"Is it real?"

"What?"

"Is the rape real?" I asked.

"No. That's sick. No!"

"So it's staged?"

"Yeah. It's actors playing a part."

"Do you know the models?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"So the name Kelly Brandt doesn't mean
anything to you?"

He didn't answer right away.

"Well?"

"I know the name," he said.

"And?"

"She's the only one I knew about. That's
because we had . . . other connections to her."

"I'm getting tired of dragging this out of
you," I said. "Come on. Give it to me."

"She liked to visit our casinos."

"What casinos?"

"Man, I can't believe I'm telling this stuff
to you. We got a bunch of casinos."

"Are we talking illegal casinos?"

"Sort of," he said. "The cops don't bust
us."

"Because they are paid off," I said.

"They really are underpaid. We help them make
the mortgage payment, okay?"

"Whatever. What does this have to do with
Kelly?"

"She had a tab or account with us. We weren't
monitoring it closely. Actually, the associate who was supposed to
be doing that for us, ah, he doesn't work for us any more. He
wasn't paying attention."

"So, you let her run up a debt?"

"She had a gambling problem. She owed
something in the six figures before we caught it."

It was starting to clear up. I was getting
the picture. "And?"

"We barred her from our establishments, and
she didn't have that kind of cash. So, after some persuading,
nothing violent, we got her to agree to work for the website."

"She was working her debt off?"

"But she still owes a lot," he said. "A
lot."

"How did it work?" I asked.

"We pay all the models the going rate, right?
Instead of paying her, we credit her account."

"So, your organization didn't want her
dead?"

"She's dead?" he asked.

"You haven't heard?"

"No! What happened?"

"Suicide," I said.

"Oh, not good," Richie said. "She still owes
something like 70K."

"One more thing," I said. "What does the name
Mickey Richardson mean to you?"

"Never heard of him. What's he do?"

"He's in wholesaling," I said. "You never
heard of him?"

"No, I don't know him."

Richie never saw it coming. I pulled the
trigger. His body spun around on the impact of the bullet. He was
dead before his body hit the ground. I kept my word to the
pimp.

In the closet, I shot George, the bodyguard.
The only thing I'd touched in the condo was the door. I wiped it
clean.

Then I had an idea. I went into Richie's
bedroom. Heck, the bedroom was about as big as half of my house.
Anyway, I took out some black jeans and a sweatshirt with a hood. I
stuffed it all into a backpack. That I carried low to keep it out
of sight. I wiped my prints off of the closet door.

In the living room, I picked up all the shell
casings and put them in the backpack too.

I left the condo and rode the elevator down.
I wiped my prints off the elevator button. At the ground level, I
wiped the button that I'd pressed to go up.

Ahead the guard was reading a paper. I wiped
the contractor badge clean and set it down. Same for the keys. I
took the fake license with my picture.

He looked up. "Hey, that was a lot longer
than 10 minutes. Lucky for you, I forgot about you."

"Lucky for you, I found this," I said. I held
out Richie's key.

His eyes widened. "Whoa," he said. He checked
and found that the key was missing from his lockbox. "Thanks!"

"No problem," I said.

With my head low, I left. The gun I had used
up in Richie's place had been purchased for cash from a private
party. I believe it had also been purchased by the previous owner
from some other private party before that.

I wasn't worried about them tracing the gun
to me.

I changed into Richie's clothes in some
shadows not far from where I exited. The backpack and uniform were
dumped into random dumpsters. They wouldn't be found.

Through the dark night I walked all the way
to the lot that had my car. I got the car and started driving home.
After I'd gotten clear of the city and was on the freeway, I took
out my disposable phone and called my client, Macy.