I’ve studied the profiles of four men, all white and between the ages of fifty-five and sixty-five, no priors, all married and retired, middle class. They’ve no proof that these guys are involved in the ring, and they don’t expect them to be dangerous, but for some reason PD has them on watch. I’m basically on call each evening and if I get a text or a call about a location I go wait and photograph anything suspicious.
Paul Bryant walks out of the club and I scramble to reach across the console for my camera. His buddy stumbles out after him and two other men after that. They walk over to the side of the building covered in shadows. I watch through my lens and snap a few photos but it’s clear they’ve come outside for a smoke. They lean against the wall, puff away and after ten minutes head back inside the building.
My cell rings as the men disappear inside and I swipe my thumb across the screen before answering.
“Beltran.”
“It’s Collier.”
“What can I do for you this evening, Detective?”
“Got a location for you.”
“You got it. Where to, boss?” I slide my key in the ignition and give a little twist. The engine roars to life.
“Eddy’s. Some strip club in the East Valley. You heard of it?” I can’t help but laugh.
“You’re probably not going to believe this, but that’s where I am now.”
“Never pegged you for a glitter and tits kinda guy, Beltran.” I laugh harder.
“Yeah, I’m not. Here working a case tonight.”
“Interesting. You have the profiles I sent over?”
“Memorized.”
“Good. Anything suspicious with those men and I want pics.”
“Got it.”
“And Jon?”
“Yeah.”
“Be careful. We don’t expect this to be dangerous, but you never know.”
“Thanks.”
Shit. Looks like I’m visiting the titty bar after all.
I grab a ball cap from the back seat and pull it low over my eyes. A blast of cool air hits me when I walk inside. A bouncer nods my way.
“It’s twenty.” I pull my wallet from my back pocket and pay the man. He unhooks the rope that separates me from the floor. “Welcome.” I nod as I pass through. Hard rock pumps through the crappy speakers, and some Asian chick struts on stage in nothing but a thong. I give the room a quick scan and settle for a seat at the end of the bar.
“What can I get you, handsome?” A cute blonde with too much makeup and too few clothes asks from across the bar.
“I’ll take whatever’s on tap.” She smiles and moves to fill a glass and I swivel the barstool to get a better look at the room. There’s not a large crowd. Though, maybe that’s normal for a Wednesday evening at this hour. There are a few booths filled with men and a couple sits along the catwalk. One old man sits down from them, the loner in the crowd, and I notice he’s enjoying the nachos. I never understood that. Why would you come to a place like this to get a meal? Just not sanitary. Wouldn’t matter how strong the cleaner sprayed on those table tops, it just didn’t seem right.
“You want me to start you a tab?” Blondie asks, and I shake my refusal.
“It’ll be eight.” I pull out my wallet and hand her a ten.
“Keep the change.” I continue to search the room but don’t spot any of the men from the profiles. I don’t see Kate’s dad, either. I nurse my beer but after two more songs I nod and gain the bartender’s attention. She’s chatting with one of the waitresses at the opposite end of the bar, and nods before walking over. My cell rings from where it sits on the bar top.
“Beltran.”
“Hey, man! It’s Davis. Will Davis.” Davis and I went through boot camp together when we were fresh out of high school. We weren’t in the same platoon, but were stationed at the same base for a little while in Afghanistan. The man’s a fucking riot. Always knows when to say something to lighten the mood and make everyone laugh.
“Hey, Davis! How the hell are you, man?”
“Oh, you know. Hey, I was wondering if you had some time to talk. Would now be a good time?” Blondie looks a little pissed that I called her over to ignore her and talk on my phone. She raises her brows and puts a hand on her hip. She points to my almost empty glass but I shake my head no. I raise one finger.
“Hey, man. Now’s not really a good time. Can I call you back?”
“Uh. Sure, man. No, it’s cool. We’ll talk later.”
“Thanks, Davis, we’ll catch up soon. Great to hear your voice, man.” The line goes silent and I give Blondie my complete attention.
“Hey, I have a question for you.”
“You a cop?” She’s still pissed and I’m gaining her attention the wrong way. I change tactics.
“Nah. Hey, so my buddy’s getting married and I’m the best man. I’m checking out different places to hold the party, but a friend said you gotta check out Eddy’s because the feisty blonde who pours the drinks is worth the less than stellar atmosphere.” I grin and her body softens, leans across the counter to spill her cleavage before she smiles back.
“Who’s your friend?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m hotter.”
“Awfully full of yourself.”
“I’m a confident man. So, you have a private party area or VIP lounge in this place?” She laughs.
“No VIPs here. Where would we put them, the imaginary balcony?”
“Good point. So, no space like that we could rent out?” She studies my expression and I keep my features soft and relaxed.
“Well… we do have one room in the back but it’s not open to the public. I don’t know that Eddy even rents it out for parties. More for personal uses. But I can ask and find out for you?” She leans forward a little further, and gives me full view of her spectacular boob job.
“That’d be awesome.”
“No problem. Should I call you? I’ll need your number.” I tip my glass and polish off the rest of my beer.
“Oh, I’ll be back. Maybe I’ll even bring my friend. You work all week?” She nods but her face shows her disappointment. “Maybe I’ll stay for one more beer, though,” I offer and she beams before filling another glass.
I’ll stick around a little while longer, but if I were a betting man I’d guess Paul Bryant is somewhere in that private room. It troubles me that I haven’t seen any of the men on my watch list, so chances are they’re back there too. What the hell kind of trouble has Mr. Bryant gotten himself into?
The week has flown by and it’s already time for Alex to head home. I’m going to miss her but I’ll be glad to get back to my routine. And maybe Kate’s no pants yoga party will make a return. Apparently the woman does have some sense of modesty, since she moved her morning practice into her bedroom. Or maybe she just does it to piss me off. Either way, I hate to admit it, but I’ve missed the morning torture.
Evie and I took the day off. Alex and I spent the morning at the shooting range, then grabbed a quick lunch. She’s packing her toiletries in the bathroom before her cab gets here.
“Come on, Alex, you’ve got like ten minutes ‘til your ride gets here and I wanna beat your ass in another round of Call of Duty!”
I spin in my office chair in lazy circles. After a few minutes I yell again. “Alex, what the fuck, we gonna play or what?”
I stop spinning when I hear her slow gait coming down the short hallway. I lift my chin and when I meet her eyes my stomach drops. Her face is hollow, sadness radiates from her eyes to her slumped shoulders. She drops her bag and shakes her head.
“Alex. Alex, what’s wrong?”
“I just got a call. I can’t believe it’s true. Will Davis. He—he shot himself last night.”
I push myself off the chair, grip her shoulders in my hands. I can’t believe it’s true. Of all people. Her face is somber, but she sheds no tears.
“How? Who? Are you sure?” The words fall from my lips and I don’t recognize my own voice. He would never. Not Will. She nods her head.