Godsend 8: The Value of a Woman (Godsend Short stories Series) (2 page)

“How the fuck I raped you?  You backed up on my dick, even told me to get in the shower with you. If I was raping you, do you really think you would be on the floor while I’m standing here with a deflating dick?”

Charelle got up from the shower floor. Her long, slick hair and C cup breasts had apparently aroused the black man’s dick again. She stayed under the shower head, with one arm trying to cover her breasts and the other covering her bald crotch. “If you’re here to question me, can we put some clothes on?  Please?”

Echo sighed. “I’ll put mine back on, but you got to wear a towel while I question you. Your boyfriend already attacked me, so I need to keep my eyes on as much of you as possible.”

Downstairs, Marco finally came to. He sat up on the plush carpet and looked around.

Kiandra watched him from the white sofa, her silenced gun in her right hand. “Don’t get up. Stay right there where you are.”

 “Who are you, and what happened to me?”  He was using his tank top to wipe the blood from his face.

She said, “You fell down a well near the ocean and I saved your life. The ambulance is on the way.”

He was getting up. “I don’t need an ambulance.”

She aimed the gun at him. “Sit your ass down. Didn’t I tell you not to get up?”

He sat down again. “What’s going on?”

Kiandra saw a white woman coming down the spiral staircase wearing only a purple towel. Echo was close behind the beautiful woman.

Charelle rushed up to Marco and dropped to her knees. “Honey, are you okay?”

Echo said, “Get away from him. Stand over there by that painting.”  He was fully dressed now,  gun in his  rear waistband. He said to Marco, “Sit tight and don’t say a muthafuckin word.”

Kiandra said, “He doesn’t know what happened. He’ll remember shit in another thirty minutes, maybe.”

Echo said to Kiandra, “You won’t believe what Charelle is hiding under that towel.”

Kiandra said, “I wouldn’t be surprised.”  She looked through the glass wall, wondering if Marco would get any visitors.

Echo said to Charelle, “You know a woman name Milana Rockerson?”

“Yes. She was killed maybe two years ago. Not quite two years.”

“Why was she killed, and do you know who killed her?”

“First, tell me who are you guys?  What’s going on?”

Echo said, “We’re private investigators looking for Milana’s killer.”

“That’s going to be hard. All the girls know that Ryan Madison is responsible, but it’ll never be proven. He runs the Echelon Escort Service.”  She cut her eyes to her injured boyfriend and then to Echo. She did it again.

Echo said, “Come here. Let me talk to you.”  He headed for the kitchen and she followed him. He stopped by the refrigerator and said in a low voice, “You got something you don’t want Marco to know?”

“He doesn’t know that I used to be a call girl.”

Echo opened the refrigerator and grabbed a wine cooler. “Well, I have to get the information from you. Wanna take a ride?”

“You just raped me; why would I want to go anywhere with you?”

He said, “You saw how much dick I put in you?  Tell the truth, I could still be fuckin’ you if it was really rape. You’re certainly not stronger then me. You wanted me to stop, so I stopped.”

“Okay. I’ll leave with you, if you promise to bring me back.”

“Fuck no. You can catch a taxi back. Your boyfriend might have the whole Cambria police force here when I get back.”

She said, “If I really thought you could get Ryan, I would help in any way I could. But that’s a slim chance. The cops couldn’t get a thing on him and his enterprise.”

“Let’s go get you some clothes to wear. If you can show us how to get inside the network, I’ll bring down whoever is responsible for killing Milana. But right now, we don’t even know how Echelon works. The service is more of a strong rumor than anything else.”

“Why are you so sure that you can get to Ryan?  Milana was a friend of mine, and I feel terrible for helping her get the job. I want to help, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get justice for her.”

He said, “We’re wasting time.”  He looked at his right hand. It was swelling. “Get dressed.”

THE NEXT DAY, Brian and Etceterra were in San Diego. They were in the parking lot of a hotel called the Hiatus Inn, sitting in a stolen Ford Explorer. Brian turned the ignition off and said, “Charelle says the whole third floor is always reserved for Echelon customers only. So find a room that’s occupied then take it over. Question the call girl and the client. Call me and let me know which room you got. I’ll be up as soon as I’m done with the desk assistant.”

Etceterra said, “Charelle hasn’t worked for the escort service in ten months. What if they’re now using the second floor instead of the third?  She said they often changed their mode of operation.”

Brian said, “She knows about the Hiatus Inn up in San Francisco, L.A., and here. This is the one where Milana met clients, always on the third floor. You wanna sit here and guess the floor until the sun comes up, or do you wanna take a chance on the third floor?”

Etceterra opened the passenger’s door. “Third floor sounds good to me.”

They both got out of the SUV and parted ways. The Hiatus Inn was not a fancy hotel. It was clean and well-run, though. The lot had many vehicles for a Wednesday night. The rooms on two of the floors were all occupied; the other floor had twelve vacancies.

At 10:13 p.m., Brian entered the lobby and walked up to the smiling, white desk attendant.

Dan Gilcrest was a 53-year-old man with a friendly face. “Welcome to the Hiatus Inn. May I help you?”

“Yes, I’d like a room. A single.”

“I’m sorry; we’re all booked with no vacancies.”

Brian said, “It’s after ten. Are you telling me you have rooms that are booked for the day, but the guests still haven’t arrived?”

“Sir, that exactly what I’m telling you. Now, there are several other hotels in the area. I bet none of them are all booked on a Wednesday night, but we are. So why don’t you give them a try.”  He still smiled, pretending to be nice, then looked down at the security monitors next to the 23-inch flat-panel computer screen.

Brian said, “You’re not booked up. If I had the password for the day, I could get a room on the floor you got reserved for your Echelon guests.”

Dan’s right foot bumped an emergency button under the desk. “Sir, I have no idea what you’re referring to. Perhaps if you -”

Brian pulled out a silenced gun from his sports coat and aimed it at Dan’s chest. “Step back from the desk and come around so you can lock this door since you’re all booked the fuck up.”

“Alright.”  He backed away from the desk with his hands raised at chest-level. “Take it easy.”  Dan stepped around the desk then stopped. He looked back at the desk counter and said, “I’ll need the keys. They’re behind the desk.”

This time Brian smiled. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but if you don’t -”  A door to his left, which he had assumed was either a storage room door or a closet door, was flung open. Brian saw the staircase and two large, white men aiming sub-machine guns that looked much more violent that his silenced handgun.

Dan said to Brian, “Drop your gun, or they will kill you.”

Brian was watching the gunmen but still kept his gun aimed at the desk assistant. “They’ll kill me anyway, so I might as well follow you to hell.”

Dan said, “No, no. We don’t want any guns to go off in this hotel. I just want to know what you know about Echelon.”

Brian hesitated then began slowly lowering his weapon.

Chapter 6

Etceterra had stepped out of the stairwell when he heard a room door open. Down the hall, he saw a white man exiting one of the suites, so he walked faster to catch the man. Several seconds later, Etceterra caught the man at the elevator, grabbed his arm, and spun him around.

The 60-year-old man was nicely dressed, with no sports coat. He looked scared right now, especially after seeing a gun aimed at his belly.

Etceterra said, “Back to your room. No talking, no questions. Let’s go.”

The elderly man followed the order but really didn’t want to. When he made it back to Room 308, he fumbled with his key card. He felt the gunman poke him in the back.

Etceterra said, “You’re looking at kidney failure if that door isn’t opened in five seconds.”

The man inserted the card and unlocked the door three seconds later.

Etceterra shoved him inside, sending him to the floor, then  closed the door. He used one hand to motion for the man to get up. When the man stood, Etceterra nudged him forward. They turned the corner and now a young, white woman could be seen in bed.

As they approached the call girl, the elderly man began feeling as if he would break down.

The woman was young. Very young. She was lying in bed with the covers pulled up to her neck.

Etceterra pat-searched the man then slipped on a pair of clear latex gloves. He produced some plasticuffs and secured the man’s wrists behind his back. After looking at the man’s driver’s license he said to the girl, “You work for Echelon?”

“Yes. Yes, sir.”

He walked up to the bed and pulled the covers off of her. She was naked. “How old are you?”

She said, “Thirteen.”

Etceterra sighed. He tossed the covers back on top of her. “Get dressed. You’re leaving with me.”  He turned toward the man. “Pete Garland. Sit down. Right there on the floor.”  He studied the items that were in the man’s wallet. Too many credit cards - even a black card - photos, maybe $800. Etceterra stuffed the wallet in his own pocket.

Pete said, “Can I make a deal with you, buddy?”

“No deals.”  Etceterra pulled out a prepaid phone and dialed Brian’s cell phone number. After six rings he ended the call. He stepped past Pete and walked over to the window. He looked down in the parking lot and saw two white men inspecting Brian’s stolen Ford Explorer. His heart began racing.

Pete wanted to talk to the gunman, talk his way out of this mess. The girl was still in the bathroom getting dressed.

Etceterra returned to Pete then sat at the foot of the bed facing him. He retrieved a silencer and a digital recorder from the left pocket of his sports coat. As he fitted the silencer onto the end of his handgun, he said, “I’m looking for a reason to kill my first pedophile. I’m going to ask you a few questions, Pete. I expect nothing but the truth.”

“I won’t lie to you, buddy. I swear.”

“That’s good, but if you call me your buddy again, I’ll prove you wrong.”

The girl slowly exited the bathroom timidly, unsure of how to act. She was very pretty and still retained a look of innocence.

Etceterra looked back and said, “Sit here, next to me. What’s your name?”

“Veranda.”  She sat next to the gunman.

“Veranda what?”

“Veranda Spielman.”

“Well, Veranda,” Etceterra said, “sit here and listen to everything this foolish old man is about to tell me. I’ll need you to fill in some of the blanks later.”  He looked at his phone and thought about calling Echo. But first,  he needed some answers.

“THERE ARE THREE HOTELS called Hiatus,” Pete said. “One’s in San Fran and L.A. and San Diego, here. You call a certain number and ask for Dale Oates. Describe your preferred Caucasian date, which means you’ll have to stay down here.”

Etceterra said, “In other words?”

“In San Diego, they have only Caucasians waiting in the room for you. In L.A., they only have blacks; and in San Fran, they have their homosexuals. All appointment are private, and the transactions are cash-only.”

 “How much?”

Pete said, “Two thousand per night for a single appointment. Two dates is thirty-five hundred, and so is a single date under the age of seventeen.”

Etceterra wanted to shoot him in the head. “This Dale Oates, can anybody call him and get a date set up if they have the money?”

“Definitely not. They only trust clients they’ve dealt with for a while. A long-term client would have to recommend the new person. Even then, Echelon would do a background check on him or her, and probably their own investigation. It could take weeks to get approved.”

Etceterra looked at the girl and said, “Any of that sounds like a lie to you?”

She shook her head negatively.

Pete said, “This entire floor is monitored by the guy down at the front desk. If he saw you come in here with me, two guys with guns will probably arrive and knock on the door. That’s one of the main rules:  No guests are allowed. Strictly enforced.”

Etceterra imagined the desk attendant being occupied with Brian and then Brian being occupied with the two goons seen searching the SUV.

Pete said, “So, even if you weren’t spotted coming in, you’ll almost certainly be seen coming out, especially with the girl.”

Etceterra knew the man was right. “You obviously meet someone when you pay in cash. Who and where?”