I gazed through the moon roof. “Look at that daylight. You’d almost believe it was the genuine article.”
Natasha placed a hand on my shoulder as she gazed up. “How do you know it’s not? Maybe the shielding allows natural sunlight to come through.”
“Not on your life, kiddo. Nothing penetrates the shield around this Haven. The dome around the city is all smoke and mirrors, digital projections of night and day.”
“I don’t get it,” Benny said. “Why put all the extra dough into optical illusions? Why not just make the shield transparent?”
“Cause then we’d see how wasted things are on the outside.” I grinned. “That’d be unsettling for the zombies who’d rather forget they live in a giant fish bowl.”
Benny shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “So where we headed, Mick?”
“To the last place I wanna go, to see the last person I wanna see.”
He cut a sideways glance my direction. “You funnin’ me, or dodging the question?”
“One and the same, Benny. Hold on — got a message coming through.” I slid my cuff back to glance at my holoband. The message that pulsed from the display was about the last thing I expected to see.
“Gotta take a detour. Maxine, head for the Red Light District. La Lupanar, specifically.”
“Recalibrating for the quickest route, Mr. Trubble.”
Benny leaned over, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Hey, I’m always down to shoot the woo and all, but you wanna flip some skirts with her around?” He jerked a thumb toward the back seat.
“Not what you think, Ace.”
“La Lupanar.” Natasha’s voice was oddly hesitant. “I… remember that place.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry to bring up bad memories, sweetheart. But this important.”
“Why are we going there, Mick?”
“No clue.” My voice turned grim. “Esmeralda just said she was calling in that favor I owe her. And coming from a boss dame like her that pretty much means I’m not gonna like what we find when we get there.”
La Lupanar wasn’t the type of joint you visited during the day. At night the Victorian-styled manse projected an air of majesty and class despite the debauched goings-on that took place inside. Sunlight did nothing to enhance the allure. The joint’s hidden flaws were on full display in daylight: cracks in the bricks, mud spatters and moss that decorated the outer walls, faded shingles on the roof.
But the biggest difference was the joint being closed. That was decidedly foreboding for a cathouse, even at sunup.
“I got a bad feeling about this. Natasha, you might wanna stay here with Maxine. Me and Benny will check the joint out.”
She hesitated only for a second before shaking her head. “No. I’ll go with you.”
I knew better than to argue. The last time she’d been to La Lupanar we were on the run. The Red-Eyed Killer had murdered Natasha’s parents and was keen on cutting Natasha down to finish out the contract. I stashed her at La Lupanar for safekeeping while I handled the situation. When I came back, Natasha was deep in a state of shock, burying her emotions and even the memories of the murders deep in her subconscious. It took sheer guts to face that again.
She exited the back seat and stared at the pleasure house. Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly and squared her shoulders.
I tilted my Bogart over my eyes. “You ready?”
She steeled her face and nodded. “Ready.”
“Let’s go.”
A tall blond dame in a security uniform gave us a suspicious once-over at the door. Her chiseled biceps were bigger than mine, and her oversized jaw looked tough enough to hammer nails with. That was a direct contrast to her high-pitched, ultra feminine voice. “Are you like, the Troubleshooter or something?”
I tipped my Bogart respectfully. “I shoot trouble or something, so I guess that’s me.”
Her bland expression revealed that my charm and witty banter had sailed right over her head. “Whatever. I thought you’d be taller. Follow me.”
I knew something was terribly wrong as soon as we entered the bordello. Normally regulars lounged in the vintage-decorated lobby, getting warmed up by the new girls while waiting for their appointments. Sex kittens would saunter around with drinks and smokes, faces covered by opera masks and their bodies covered by much less. It was an atmosphere of mirth and sin blended like a cocktail and twice as tasty; the perfect combination for certain breeds of men to be relieved of absurd amounts of money.
Instead of perfume and drunken laughter, the joint reeked of misery and mourning. A few working girls drifted listlessly across the lobby, faces downcast. I spied one of them being crying openly down a darkened hallway.
Benny caught wind of the mood as well. “What the hell happened here?”
The security bull stiffened, but didn’t say a word as she led us past the silent clientele rooms and into the private section in the rear of the mansion where she finally paused at the doors of a large office. She gestured inside.
Madam Esmeralda sat behind a polished oak desk elaborately carved to depict Greek gods in varying sexual positions. A rendition of Michelangelo’s Birth of Venus painting covered the wall behind her, altered with Esmeralda in place of Venus with all of her French-Italian looks fully glorified. The painting was completed when Esmeralda was younger, yet the mature woman who gazed at me with dark liquid eyes was even more alluring, if that were possible. She was usually dressed in the finest Victorian fashion, but had opted for a more subdued gown of darker hues as if to acknowledge the mood of the joint. Her long raven hair was decked out by a diamond-studded headband adorned with peacock feathers.
“Mr. Trubble.” Her heavy French accent was dampened by grief she didn’t bother to hide. “Normally I’d say it is a pleasure. I’m afraid I must skip the formalities today.”
“I already guessed that, Esmeralda. The joint is cheerful as a funeral, and I’ve already been to one of those lately. What happened?”
“Murder happened.” Her eyes moistened. “One of my girls was murdered right here in my house. In my house, Mick.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “I’m sorry, Esmeralda. I promise I’ll do all I can. But you should have called the brass as soon as you found out. I know your surveillance is good. Shouldn’t be too much trouble to track down the skel who did this.”
“My surveillance was blacked out at the time of the killing. And I don’t know the police, Mick. I know you. More importantly, I trust you. And I think you will want to take this case.”
I felt the creeping fingers of dread massage the back of my neck. “Why’s that?”
“Come and see. See what the bâtard did to one of my girls.”
“Lead the way.” I took a deep breath and looked at Natasha. Her face was pale, her eyes wide.
“You stay here with Benny. I guarantee you don’t wanna see this.”
“She should come.” Esmeralda’s stare was imperious, hinting at something I couldn’t quite interpret. “This is the girl you once brought to me for safekeeping, yes? A woman now, I see. She should come. This is something she needs to see. For her own good.”
I hesitated, trying to get a bead on Esmeralda’s motives. She gazed back with an expressionless mask.
I finally shook my head. “Stay here, Natasha. Benny, keep a close eye out.”
I was instantly familiar with the room. The art deco style of geometrically-designed metallic wallpaper and the dramatic, sweeping polished mahogany furniture created the illusion of a rich Parisian hotel. You’d never guess a revolving procession of lust-filled bodies engaged there in the indulgences of the world’s oldest profession. I’d been in that very room many a time when I was a newborn amnesiac without a care for anyone or anything.