He saw Shannon behind the bar and he pushed his way through the crowd to get there. One man whispered something in his ear and wrapped his arm around his waist and Stanton removed it and kept walking.
“Back for more?” Shannon said when she saw him. “I can’t spare any other employees to the hospital.”
“I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.”
“He’s got a fractured skull. He’s thinking about suing the County.”
“He should.”
“Do you really think he should?”
“No.”
“I knew I liked you,” she said. “Vice would be in here every night looking for any excuse to close me down, wouldn’t they?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head. “I gotta give it to you cops. You’re one hell of an organized gang.”
“We’re just a reflection of the society we live in. Live with sin,” he said, looking around, “and sin will enter your life.”
She took a shot of tequila that was offered to her by a woman on the other side of the bar. “So what can I do for you…is it Detective?”
“Just call me Jon.”
“What is it you need?”
“I want to talk to you about Michael Cisneros.”
“I already told you everything I know.”
“We both know that’s a lie.”
She looked at him, a slight smile parting her lips as she reached under the bar and came up with a slice of lime. She gently sucked on it before throwing it in a nearby trash bin. “Follow me.”
She walked around the bar to the dance floor and Stanton followed. As they approached the bodies that were packed tightly together, the smell of marijuana and cologne hit him like an invisible wall. The music was too loud to speak over so Stanton just stayed close to Shannon as she slid her way in between the moving bodies like a snake.
They came to the far side of the dance floor to a padded door with a bouncer in front; he opened the door for them and they stepped through.
The room was sound proof and the only thing you could hear from outside was a low thud from the bass. The room was entirely decorated in crimson; all the chairs, couches and even the bar. Several people were scattered throughout the space and two women were making out on one of the couches. Shannon grabbed two drinks from the bar with one hand and sat down next to them, running her other hand over one of their thighs.
“This is Donna. She’s my partner. Have a seat.”
Stanton sat next to her. “You knew Mike better than you let on.”
She tried to hand one of the drinks to Stanton and he turned it down. “Suit yourself.” She guzzled one and then leaned back on the couch, sipping the other. “He would house sit for me whenever I left town. Sometimes I’d hire him to tend bar when he was broke and needed cash. He was a good kid. His mother’s ill and he stayed home to take care of her rather than get his own place.”
“The last time you saw him, or even before, was he with anyone that hasn’t been back since?”
“Yeah, there’s someone.” She lifted the other drink. “But first you gotta take a drink,” she said, with a mischievous smile.
Stanton pulled out his handcuffs and placed them on her wrist. Standing her up, he said, “Shannon Gunther, you are under arrest for obstruction of justice in the homicide investigation of Michael Cisneros. You have the right to remain silent. Should you choose to waive that right, anything you say can and will-”
“Easy, easy, I was just playing. I’ll help you.”
Stanton removed the cuffs. “No games. I want a name right now.”
“We called him Big Harry. His first name was Henry. I don’t know what his last name was. Honestly, I don’t.”
“Would you recognize him in a photo line-up?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“He’s a meal ticket.”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s an older guy that buys things for his younger lovers. Takes care of them. He bought Mikey a new watch last month.”
“Do you have any information about where he lives or what he does?”
“We don’t scan IDs in the VIP section, not yet anyway. But I think Mikey mentioned once that he was a pharmacist.”
“What else do you know about him?”
“That’s it. Other than he likes younger men.”
Stanton glanced around and noticed that the room was filling up now. Various couples were making out on couches and the two canopied beds that took up the corner. Drinks were served to them on side tables along with small white pills that he guessed were ecstasy. This was an orgy room.
“I may need you to identify him later in a photo or live line-up.”
“Sure,” she said, taking a drink. “Why don’t you stay the night here, though? I think you’ll have a life altering experience.” She reached over to one of the women and pinched her nipple. “My girlfriend and I could show you things you couldn’t even dream of.”
Stanton smiled. “Make sure to answer my call. If I have to come back down here you’re leaving in a police car.”
As he turned to walk away she shouted, “Detective, life is too short to be so restrictive. I think you’ll find that in your last days you’ll wish you joined us.”
“It’s not this life I’m worried about. Just make sure to answer your phone when I call.”
CHAPTER 23
A noise invaded her dreams. It grated against her consciousness and she tried to shrug it off. She saw herself on a beach with her mother and brother. Her father was on the porch of the old house with the dilapidated roof. Sand crabs were before her, crawling in their funny sideways walk across the sand as she stood barefoot before them, her brother squealing as he threw stones at them, and her mother asking him to stop as they were God’s creatures.
The sunshine was so bright that her mother forced her to wear sunglasses and a ridiculous amount of sunblock. Her brother was several years older and didn’t have to use as much but he always got burnt. Her parents never seemed to mind.
Her father was trying to say something to her. She turned to him and tried to hear but couldn’t because the surf was too loud. He stood in his shorts and striped shirt, smoking his pipe and he held it up in an expressive motion as he yelled to her but she still couldn’t hear him and the surf grew louder and louder. It was hurting her ears and she put her hands up to them and screamed.
Monique jumped up in bed. The light of a dying sun was coming through the open window and she could hear children playing outside. Her shirt clung to her with sweat but the cool breeze coming through the window calmed her and she stared at the dust that swirled in the beams of light that she watched slowly begin to fade.
She heard a sound and turned to see the man sitting on a chair in the corner. He was eating out of a carton with one hand and playing with an hourglass filled with sand with his other. He was completely enveloped and didn’t notice that she had waked. When he saw her, he lifted another carton that was on the floor along with a bottle of Gatorade and placed it next to her on the bed before sitting back down and continuing his play.
Monique lifted the top of the carton. She had refused food the past two days but she couldn’t refuse anymore. Her stomach ached and her tongue felt swollen and dry from lack of moisture. She took a long drink from the bottle and then dug into the food in the carton; a gyro and French fries with a side salad.
“It’s good to see you eating,” he said without looking at her.
She shoved several fries in her mouth but didn’t respond. She ate quietly and swigged half the bottle of the Gatorade in one gulp.
“You should slow down. You’ll get a tummy ache.”
He turned to her. His face…it would’ve been handsome except for the deep scruff and the constant sheen of glistening sweat. His cheeks were red, almost as if he had applied make up, but there was something manly in his jaw and neck that balanced the effect.
“You haven’t killed me,” she said. “You haven’t raped me. What are you gonna do with me?”