Pole Dance (24 page)

There were more than a few beats of silence after Ram spoke.

"You think having a cop in the club will help?" Dale asked finally joining the conversation. His voice felt wrong speaking after his weak reaction to the first image.

"What I think is that I need to investigate every angle on this. Which means we'll also need to interview you both and all your male staff. We'll need to look at clients, too. Do you keep logs on the lap dance booths?"

"We have the credit card receipts but, if they pay in cash, there's no record outside of the security films," Dale explained on a swallow, his mind still filled with the grisly images he had seen both right side up and upside down.

"Does the credit card receipt list the dancer's name?"

"No, they don't. But there will be some reference on them from now on so we can tie the client to the girl," Jake replied glancing at Dale who nodded his agreement.

"That would help going forward," Ram replied taking out a small notebook and pen. "Do you know the names of any of the regulars that made a point of being in the club when Tracy, Abby or Pam were on?"

At Jake's glance, Dale just shook his head to signify the negative.

"Unfortunately, no. Probably get a lot more info on that side of the business from the people that work the floor. Typically, though, don't have regulars for the dancers like Pam. Ones on the poles sure seem to develop a following," Jake explained.

Really? Didn't know that." Ram made a note before continuing. "We'll be interviewing the current staff as well as the people that have worked here the last couple of years. So I'm thinkin' the list you need to provide has to be for everyone, not just the dancers, that worked for you in the last couple of years."

"Would copies of their applications work?" Jake asked as he tried to follow Ram's line of reasoning. "I don't know how we can identify clients, though."

Jake watched as Ram slumped down in his chair, extending his long legs and shoving both hands into his hair before he laced his fingers on the top of his head.

"What if we tried researching credit card receipts for the times each girl was on and see if there are any customer overlaps?" Dale suggested.

"What if our fuckwad paid in cash?" Ram shot back.

"Still it's a start, right?" Dale insisted.

"I'll get photocopies of the applications to you. Dale will pull the timecards and credit card receipts. May take some time to do, though. That gonna be okay?" Jake watched as Ram scribbled in his notebook.

"The sooner, the better, Buddy," Ram said catching Jake's eyes. "The sooner, the better."

Chapter Eleven

My steps slowed when I walked home from my last class and saw a large Sleep Warehouse truck parked at the curb. It had been a long day made longer by my lack of sleep in Jake's bed last night.

One of the men from the truck was ringing the bell by the front door of my house.

"Can I help you?" I asked coming up the stairs.

"Looking for Caitlin Tomas," stocky workman said, looking me up down. His hand reached up to smooth the few remaining hairs on his crown back into place as he re-tucked his shirt into his trousers. "Have a delivery for her."

"I didn't order anything," I said looking back at the truck and then reading the patch over his pocket that identified him as 'Ernie'. "Listen, Ernie, I didn't order anything from Sleep Warehouse so there's nothing to deliver."

Looking down at his clipboard, Ernie ran his stubby finger down the list until he stopped and pointed to my name. "Here it is, right here. Caitlin Tomas. One queen-size, sleeper deluxe with frame. Ain't that you and your address?" Ernie peered up at me convinced that his paper didn't lie.

"That's me. That's my address. But I didn't order anything," I said repeated, even more confused but starting to get an inkling of who ordered the bed. My confusion was quickly morphing into something else. And that something else was really not good.

"Well, doll face, you got a new bed even if you didn't order it. The paper says so. Under special instructions it says to remove the old bed, too. Oh wait, what's this? Says client may get upset but bed cannot be returned. Ha! Ain't never seen that on a delivery sheet before!" Ernie turned away from me and yelled, "Mario! This is the place! We gotta take out the old one first!"

He turned back to me. "You gonna let us in or what?"

I unlocked the big door and then my apartment to allow Ernie and Mario access, although I was so angry, my movements were jerky and I could feel the scowl on my face. While the deliverymen were toting, lifting and angling the large mattress and box springs into my tiny space, I was on the porch, pacing and fuming. Finally, I dug out my cell to call the heavy handed Neanderthal that was trying to take over my life.

"Who do you think you are, huh?" I yelled into the phone after listening to his short greeting, "I didn't ask for a new bed. I didn't want a new bed. I don't have ROOM for a new bed!" I could hear my voice becoming shrill. "It's too much, Jake! I can do this on my own! I don't want or need to have you take care of me!" I disconnected the call and stood seething. Both Ernie and Mario were giving me a wide berth as they completed their delivery, shooting each other looks each time they passed me on the porch.

Hesitantly, Ernie approached me again with clipboard in hand. "We got it in but, I gotta tell you, girlie, it was a tight squeeze. You ain't got much room to walk in, but the bed's in there." He swallowed loudly before continuing, "Miss, if you could just sign right here--"

"I'm not signing anything," I said quietly, deadly.

"It's just to show that we delivered the set to you, okay? Not that you ordered it or even like it, but that we delivered it, all right?" Ernie shot a look to Mario before turning back to me. "We can't leave, girlie, until we get a signature."

I glared at Ernie as I practically ripped the clipboard out of his hands, found the appropriate line and scribbled four words. I shoved the clipboard at Ernie before turning and slamming the front door and then slamming into my apartment.

"Hey, Mario, she signed her name as Daffy Duck. What does 'under duress' mean?" I could hear Ernie's voice coming from the porch.

Ernie wasn't kidding or even exaggerating about how much room the queen size bed took up in my tiny bedroom. I stood at the doorway and realized there was maybe a half a foot on just one side of the bed to walk around. The only way to get into it was by crawling up from the bottom. I'd never be able to shut the bedroom door since it was wedged open by the huge mattress. Luckily, my closet had sliding doors, but I could sit on the bed and now make my wardrobe selections. Actually, I was gonna
have
to sit on the bed to get to my clothes and shoes.

This just kept getting worse and worse.

Wait!

Where'd they put my dresser?

I finally found it shoved into my tiny kitchen which I' m sure was done just to get it out of the way in order to make room for the bed. As I just stood there in shock, wondering how I was ever going to get it out of there and where I was going to actually put it when I
was
able to move it, my cell phone rang. I glanced at it, still clutched in my hand. 'Jake Calling'.

I ignored it and let it go to voicemail as I searched for my nightstand. Ah! Found it shoved in the open floor space of my bathroom.

Great.

My bedroom was filled with bed, my kitchen was filled with dresser and my bathroom was filled with nightstand.

I, however, was filled with rage.

*.*.*.*.*

Jake made another note on his iPad as Aaron, the Office Manager for D & J Accounting spoke regarding the upcoming move. There were so many things he and Dale had not considered when they bought the building that had more floor space to house that particular business and Jake was more than a little annoyed that he and Dale hadn't considered the fact that the move would be made in the month before the tax filing deadline. Tax filings comprised thirty percent of the annual revenues for the firm and the only available times to make the move was in the middle of the night or on a Sunday, the only day they were closed.

Jake felt the vibration of his phone tucked in his left back pocket as another call was received. He had switched the phone to vibrate after the third call had interrupted the meeting. Even the usually unflappable Aaron had shot Jake a dirty look at the musical intrusions.

As the meeting concluded and Jake closed the notebook which was now filled with fourteen new 'to-do' items, he checked his phone as he moved to the Kia. He scanned the list of received voicemails and saw the most recent was Caitlin. He opened it with a smile of anticipation in just being able to hear her voice.

But his smile soon faded as he listened to her message. The end of it found Jake moving quickly through the traffic congestion of early afternoon to get to her at her place as soon as possible. His girl was pissed and had no qualms at letting him know it. The worst of it was that she was probably justified and Jake knew he was going into a war zone that he unthinkingly created, much like the lack of consideration he and Dale had shown regarding the accounting agency move.

He had tried calling her but she didn't pick up and he knew that he couldn't just leave a voicemail, not when she was this fuckin' wound up.

Jake pressed hard on the accelerator hell-bent on getting to his girl as fast as possible.

*.*.*.*.*

I heard a loud pounding at the outside door which I couldn't ignore. I angrily stabbed the release button and waited to open my front door until he knocked. Then I flung it open, saw it was him and slammed it as hard as I could. The bastard managed to catch the heavy door with his foot and I only turned back because I hadn't heard the satisfying slam of it closing in his face.

"Darlin'…" Jake began.

"Don't you 'Darlin' me, you low-life piece of shit!" I yelled as I stomped down the hall away from him throwing my words over my shoulder. "Get out of my house!"

"Caitlin--"

"You've gone too far, Jake!" I bellowed at the top of my voice running the few short feet back down the hall to where he still stood at the front door. "The freaking bed takes up the entire bedroom, my dresser is in the kitchen and my nightstand is in the bathroom! The only room I have to move around in is the freaking living room!" I could feel my fingernails digging into my palms as I clenched my fists. For the first time in my life, I found I wanted to punch somebody and punch them HARD.

Jake began moving as I finished yelling up into his face. Seeing that I was not moving backwards, he took things in hand by putting said hand to my chest and turning me so he could get by. I was so angry that I was trembling as I watched him take the few steps from the door to the kitchen, another couple of steps to the bathroom before he stopped at the entrance to the bedroom.

"Aw geez, Darlin'," I heard him rumble, knowing he could see that the queen bed took up the entirety of my bedroom. I watched him from behind as he stood at the bedroom door, hands on hips. Slowly, he moved one hand up to rake through his hair before catching the back of his neck. He turned back to me and I could tell by the look on his face that he knew he had screwed up, and had done it badly. The look on his face, even his pace as he walked back toward me, was one of contrition.

"Caitlin, I'm sorry, I--" he started as he stopped a couple of feet away from me.

"Screw, sorry," I hissed which brought his eyes directly to mine. "Like I said in my voicemail, I didn't ask for a new bed or even need a new bed. This is whacked, Jake. We've only been together a couple of times, yet it's like you're tryin' to take over, make over, my life!" My chest was heaving in my fury and I was still shaking I was so angry, but I wasn't done. I leaned towards him to give emphasis to my next words. Though they were said quietly, I said them with deadly menace.