Arrested Pleasure (6 page)

"Want them to bring him up so we can have a little chat with him?"

Chaz's question pushed thoughts of her from Gabe's mind. For the moment.

"Sure. Tell them to send him up."

While the call went downstairs, Gabe put the finishing touches on his report and emailed it to the records department. He'd barely hit "send" when the door squeaked open and a wiry, dark-haired man walked in. Nervous, the man glanced around the room, before his eyes darted to Chaz and then Gabe. Definitely an odd person.

"Have a seat." Gabe pointed to the chair next to his desk. He watched with keen interest as the man sat down.

Clearing his throat, Gabe spoke first. "The guys downstairs say someone tried to sell their services to you for more than a massage. Can you tell us a bit more, Mr . . . ?"

Gabe glanced at Chaz.

"Schwartzman. Frank Schwartzman," Chaz replied.

The man nodded and licked his lips. "It was that massage place downtown. Casa de Massage. Some redhead started to give me a massage, but then told me she might be able to add a little extra for more cash."

"What kind of extra services?" Gabe asked, being careful not to lead the man on.

The man blinked, as if surprised Gabe would ask the question. "Sex, of course."

"Did she actually tell you she was going to perform sexual services for you?"

Gabe wanted to make sure they had the facts and not misinterpretation. Frank Schwartzman had serious charges against a spa that had a reputation of being above board.

Schwartzman stared at Gabe, a confused look on his face, as if he didn't understand the question. Gabe narrowed his eyes. Did the man only imagine he'd been propositioned?

"Well . . . she's good with her hands. She, uh . . ." He hesitated. Gabe got the feeling the man was choosing his words carefully. "She said she'd take care of me with .

. . er . . . in other ways."

Chaz leaned forward from his stance by the filing cabinet. "What ways? What did she say exactly?" Gabe could tell Chaz's thoughts were the same as his. Get the facts and skip the innuendo.

Frank Schwartzman frowned at Chaz's reaction and seemed puzzled by their questions. He shifted his gaze from Chaz to Gabe. "Isn't this enough? You know, telling me stuff like that?"

Gabe exchanged glances with Chaz. Why did the guy not want to explain? For fear of saying too much? He leaned back in his chair and assessed Schwartzman.

"Not enough to go on. They can claim they meant something else. A pedicure.

Foot massage. Something that has nothing to do with sex."

The other guy's eyes opened wide and his face flushed red. "It was sex. She offered to have sex with me in exchange for five hundred bucks," he blurted out.

"Sex for five hundred big ones?" Gabe whistled. "A lot of money for someone she barely knows." He stared intently at Schwartzman. "Did she say those exact words?"

Again, Schwartzman hesitated, but then nodded. "Yeah, said we'd have some fun times having sex on the table right there. All I needed to do was give her five hundred."

Chaz interjected. "Are you willing to sign a document attesting to that fact?"

"Sure. Just don't make me face her right now."

"You said she was red-haired. Does she have a name?"

Schwartzman frowned for a moment. He acted like he had to think. "Yeah, Danny was her name. I thought it odd that a woman would have a man's name. The other lady in the place —a foreigner if you ask me—she's a bitch, but Danny has the balls to—" He flushed and then shut his mouth, probably realizing he said too much.

"Danny? Strange name for a woman. Perhaps short for Danielle?" Gabe quickly wrote the name down. "Stick around. We'll draft up a statement and get you to sign the paper." He turned to his computer and started typing up the statement.

"Sure." Schwartzman's voice sounded relieved as he took a deep breath. "Take them both down. The other broad threatened me."

"Threatened you?" Chaz leaned forward. "What did she say or do?"

The other man stared at Chaz. Gabe could almost see the wheels running in his head, thinking of what to say. Interesting. He ran off his mouth, but when questioned further, clammed up.

"She was just . . . loud. Obnoxious."

"We can't arrest someone for being loud." Gabe typed in some commands on his computer. "It'll only take a minute to get this typed out. Then you can sign off and be on your way."

"Good. I'll do whatever it takes to get them out of business."

Chaz paused, an eyebrow lifted in response at the choice of words. "Out of business?" He flicked a glance at Gabe.

"We're not here to necessarily to get Casa de Massage out of business," Gabe replied. "The owner may not be aware of what his or her employee is doing." He hit the print key.

"What? If they're selling sex, then you should lock their doors and throw them out of business. How many times—?"

"What we do is really not your business, Mr. Schwartzman."

"Well, I think—"

"Leave the matter to us to decide whether to shut them down or not." Gabe pulled off the paper from the printer. "Here, sign this and leave us your phone number.

Then we'll start our investigation. We'll call you if we have any further questions for you." He laid the document down on the table and handed the man a pen.

Frank Schwartzman stared at the paper for a long time, deep in thought.

"Are you going to sign the paper, Mr. Schwartzman?" Gabe asked.

The man lifted his head and stared at both of them. "Yeah. I will." Finally he picked up the pen and quickly signed the document before shoving it back toward Gabe.

Staring at the man's signature, he had a feeling something was missing. What had really happened at Casa de Massage?

They'd have to tread lightly before they made any arrests.

Chaz stood up. "Thanks for coming in. We'll call you if we need more information."

"No problem." He glanced at Gabe. "I hope you act quickly. They shouldn't be in business."

Schwartzman left quickly, and Chaz quietly closed the door.

"Well?" Chaz murmured. "What do you think?"

Gabe chewed his lip as he sat back down. "Dunno. Something about the guy screams that there is more than he's telling. He seems more the type to go looking for sex than it come seeking him."

Chaz nodded. "I thought the same." He plopped down into the chair across from Gabe. "What's our next course of action? Shall we pay a visit to Casa de Massage?"

"We could. Of course, that might tip them off, and they'll be discreet and lay low for a while."

"Provided they're guilty, you mean?"

"Hmm . . . yeah." He turned to his computer. "Do you know anything about Casa de Massage? The name doesn't really ring a bell to me except I know it's supposed to be reputable."

"Not much. I heard the daughter of a rich, retired doctor owns it. Daddy might be the money behind the business as an investment."

"Yeah, and not be aware of what the employees are doing on the side." Gabe typed in a few keywords and hit enter. Several hits popped up.

"Hmm . . . says here"—he leaned closer to the monitor—"the place is owned by Cassandra Nichols. Provides massages, facials, and other spa services."

"The 'other services' could be sex."

"Maybe." Gabe printed out the pages and turned back to Chaz. "I have a suggestion. How about if one of us goes undercover and pays for the services provided by Casa de Massage?"

Chaz ran a hand over his jaw as he considered the idea. "Sounds good. Might give us an idea if the complaint is legit." His eyes lit up. "Say, you want me to go?" He rubbed his neck. "I have a little stiffness here."

Gabe laughed. "How about we both go? That way we can each get a better perspective."

"Sounds good to me. When are we doing this?"

Gabe glanced at the clock. "Let's call first thing in the morning and get started right away." He opened a file folder and laid Schwartzman's signed document and other pertinent information on Casa de Massage in there. "I'm bushed. It's quitting time, and all I want right now is a cool one. Are you game?"

"You bet!" Chaz rose. "Let me call the missus and tell her I'll be home a bit later."

While Chaz called his wife, Gabe filed the folder away, thinking about the allegations. Were they true? Well, tomorrow would be the first step to finding answers.

He hoped Cassandra Nichols and the rest of the Casa de Massage staff were upfront and not offering sexual services.

In the back of his mind he hoped a visit to Front Street would provide another opportunity to catch a glimpse of the mystery lady.

"There you are, Cassie. I need your help with a scheduling problem."

Cassie dropped her purse onto the desk and pushed the hair away from her face.

The humidity in the air left her clothes sticking to her. Today had started out harried, and all she'd done was stop at a couple of supply stores while navigating Portland's morning rush hour traffic. She smoothed down the blue and white broomstick skirt she wore with her usual white T-shirt and braced herself for bad news

"What's the matter?" she asked, wincing at the way-out eccentric outfit her employee wore.

Today Lola had on a pink sweatsuit outfit topped off with a matching bright pink boa. A strange combination, but on Lola it didn't look too bad. A bit offbeat, but okay.

Lola squeezed her hands together with a worried expression on her face. "We've had a rush on appointments. Two men called within ten minutes of each other and insisted on two o'clock appointments. I didn't want to turn them down and wasn't sure if you had plans this afternoon and would help out?"

Cassie agreed with Lola's point of view. Normally she assisted, but the loan financing had been keeping her busy lately.

"Well, I need the money right now. The bank said they'd let me know in a few days." She poured a cup of coffee. Dani and Becki were in the back talking to their customers as they performed massages. Troy was due in a few minutes for his shift.

"What are you going to do if you can't come up with the money? I'd hate for us to close."

"Me too, Lola. Wish me luck. I'm hoping the bank will come through."

She glanced at the day's schedule. They were indeed busy. Cassie could fill her day from six in the morning until eight at night with customers—if she survived the stress—and she fit in extras all the time. But in reality, she needed to keep things strictly to a workable schedule.

She ran her finger on the log checking the appointments. "Hmm . . . the men are new to me." Most of their clients were women, and to have so many men in two days was unusual. She raised an eyebrow at Lola. "Have either been in here before?"

"No. And it's odd because they called within ten minutes of each other and wanted the same time. I couldn't say no since I thought you'd help out." Lola grimaced as the phone rang. "If you hadn't, I'd taken them on myself." She raced to pick the call up on the third ring.

Cassie smiled and checked the names again. Judson Banks and Charles Stonebridge. Interesting both wanted the same time. Casa de Massage had an excellent return customer base and rarely needed to advertise. Some customers even sent gifts at Christmas to show their appreciation of the services they received.

She sat down at her desk and mulled over her current circumstances. If the bank didn't come through with the loan, she'd have to move.

As she glanced around the reception area, she reflected on the white and pink décor with the relaxing watercolor paintings on the wall. Incense drifted throughout, a fragrant, peaceful aura she'd always wanted when she dreamed of opening her own spa.

The early days were tough, but with Dani and Lola's help they'd built a good business, often working long into the night while they provided massages during the day. She knew Lola, at age sixty-three, depended on this job to supplement her widow's pension. Cassie didn't pay Lola a lot, but her friend gave one hundred percent back for her efforts.

She'd met Dani at massage school. The two hit it off as they discussed the latest techniques after class. Later, she'd supported Cassie's vision of Casa de Massage. Dani could go anywhere and get a job, but her friend always gave her loyalty to Cassie and she hated to disappoint her.

Taking a sip of coffee, she sighed. Things had to get better. She grabbed her scrunchie and finished fixing her hair.

Lola ended the call. "Are you okay? You look . . . I don't know. Restless, maybe?"

She couldn't hide her emotions from her friends. "I'm a little worried about the loan and getting the money to buy out Winkler. If I don't . . . ." She didn't know what she'd do if she didn't come up with the loan. Her father, probably . . . but he'd add conditions. She preferred to remain independent from her parents.

"We'll make it. You're a hard worker and a diligent business owner. If you want, I can cut corners around the spa . . . ."

"I know, and thanks, but still." She sighed again. "I'll talk to my father and ask if he has any suggestions . . . ."

"You'd sell your soul to him?" Lola stared at Cassie, shock evident on her face.

She'd experienced her father's wrath firsthand when he'd come into Casa de Massage once and tried to throw his weight around. Lola had stood tall and gone toe to toe with him, winning the battle. Now he rarely came in because he didn't want to face "that creature." Cassie always smiled when he said those words. Sweet Lola wouldn't hurt a fly.

"Maybe. No. I don't know." Cassie's insides clenched as she thought of the battle she'd face with her father if she had to go to him and grovel. The first thing he'd demand would be she move off Front Street and get out of what he called the

"disreputable Burnside area." Doing that wouldn't save her building, only her business.

Plus moving meant higher rent, and she couldn't afford the swanky areas of Portland.

The door jangled as the next customer entered. She checked first to make sure the room was ready and then tossed all thoughts of her personal woes to the side. For now.

* * * * *

"Okay, I did Ginny Barnea. Who's next?" Cassie stood at the bathroom doorway as she dried her hands. She'd finished another full body massage on a patient, and was anxious to get the day over.