Port of Sorrow (5 page)

CHAPTER
8

Deputy Julia Rusk looked up from her computer terminal and leaned back in her chair to stretch. The muscles in her neck and shoulders popped, sending sparks of pain up to her temples.

“Need a massage, officer?” a husky voice asked from a nearby desk.

Julia spun to see a stranger’s lecherous grin aimed directly at her. His leering eyes made her feel in need of a hot shower.

“If I did,” she replied, “it wouldn’t be from you.”

“Don’t say that, sweet thing. You don’t even know me.”

“That’s enough, Wells,” the deputy at the desk ordered. “Mind your manners around here.”

“I was just being friendly, Charlie. Wasn’t I, miss?”

Julia ignored him, turning her attention instead to Deputy Charles Olivier.

“What’s he here for?” she asked.

“Some guy was going to ventilate his head with a .38. Hard as it is to believe, Wells here was a victim.”

“Yeah,” Wells added. “You should feel sorry for me.”

Julia felt her skin crawl, but kept her emotions in check. “Did you catch the culprit?”

Charlie nodded. “Gilles took him upstairs. Never saw him before, but he claims Wells is a killer.”

“That’s lies, man,” Wells protested. “I didn’t shoot no fucking stripper. He’s full of it.”

Julia felt a chill run over her skin, and without another word she headed for the stairs.

Wells called after her, “Don’t believe a word he says, miss. I’m inn-o-cent.”

“Oh, we know you’re not innocent,” Charlie said with a shake of his head. “We just don’t have any evidence saying otherwise.”

When Julia dashed blindly into the stairwell, she collided with Gilles, who instantly made the most of the situation by pawing her chest and buttocks in an unneeded effort to stop them both from falling.

“Slow down, rookie,” he said with a grin. “What’s the rush?”

“Get your hands off me,” Julia hissed.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help.”

“Well, don’t. Your kind of help, I don’t need.”

“Touchy, touchy, rook. We don’t need hotheads ‘round here.”

“No, we need pest control.”

Julia pushed Gilles to one side and headed up, taking the stairs two at a time.

FINN ATTEMPTED TO
hide his face when he saw Julia coming through the door, but she already seemed to know he was there.

“Jesus, Finn,” she said upon reaching the cell. “What did you do?”

“He’s the one who shot Selene,” Finn snarled.

“You saw him?”

“No, but I know.”

“How?”

Finn rubbed his face, his lips trembling, his mouth clamped shut.

“Come on,” Julia prodded. “You seem to be the only man around here who isn’t an asshole. Don’t make me question my instincts.”

Finn looked at Julia’s pale, thin-lipped face, noticing her lack of makeup and short, stubby eyelashes. Her green eyes were angry with him. She had been nice to him, comforting, and she deserved more than he was giving.

He told Julia the story of Wells and Selene, and what had happened outside their hotel room before the show. Then he added the scene at the bar, describing in detail the two women who had been attacked. He didn’t mention the strip search by Gilles. That was something he would take care of himself.

Julia bristled at the story. “I can’t arrest him unless those two women come forward,” she said. “But I’ll do my best to find them and get charges pressed.”

Finn nodded. It didn’t sound much like justice, but he knew the limitations of the law and Julia’s responsibilities to it.

“As for Selene’s murder,” she continued. “I’ll look into Wells’ movements during the time of the shooting and show his picture to the witnesses who were in the club. If I can find some evidence he was in the area, I’ll book him on suspicion.”

Finn nodded his thanks.

“In the meantime,” she continued sternly, “I don’t want you going anywhere near him. If you had fired that gun, you’d be the killer.”

“He’s still in big trouble,” Gilles interrupted as he entered the room. His Cheshire cat grin revealed the pleasure he felt at having surprised Julia. “Mr. Finlay S. Logan of 1064 Apple Street, San Francisco, California . . . It was nice of you to register your gun.”

Finn bristled, but kept his mouth shut.

Julia stood before Gilles, blocking his way to the cell door.

“Is Wells pressing charges?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact, he’s not. If Mr. Logan agrees to apologize and pay for ruining his clothes, that is. Though if somebody messed with my face that way, I’d sure not be as civil.” He gently caressed the swollen left eye and tender nose he had received at the strip club.

Julia turned to Finn with a soothing smile.

“I would like him released,” she said.

“Not so fast, rook. His gun may have been registered, but he doesn’t have a concealed carry permit.”

“It wasn’t concealed,” said Finn. “I had it in my hand.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” snapped Gilles. “You’re already on my list.”

Julia kept her face emotionless. “Release him and I’ll guarantee he shows up in court to face the charges.”

“He a friend of yours?”

“In a way.”

“And here I thought you must be a lezbo.”

Julia gritted her teeth and Finn could sense the effort she was using to stop from smashing the little man’s teeth in.

“If you won’t release him, I’ll get Sheriff Marshall to do it.”

“
I’ll get Sheriff Marshall to do it
,” mocked Gilles as he pulled out his keys and jangled them in her face. “I’m in charge and I say he stays locked up.” To Finn, he added, “Sleep tight, scumbag. I’ll be sure to give you a nice wake-up call in the morning.”

After Gilles left, Julia reached through the bars and took Finn’s hand. Finn lowered his gaze, knowing she was struggling with who, and what, he truly was.

“Will you be okay in here tonight?” she asked finally.

“I’ve dealt with bigger assholes than him before.”

Julia smirked. “I’ll see about getting you out in the morning.”

Finn nodded his thanks, grateful for the caring smile she left him.

IN THE SILENT DARKNESS
, Finn turned to his cellmate. “I’ll keep watch if you want to sleep.”

The man smiled a broken-toothed grin and closed his eyes.

CHAPTER
9

The street in front of Tequila Shooter’s was deserted when Julia drove up. The dashboard clock told her it was after two a.m. Tired eyes said it was time for bed, but her stress-induced headache forewarned she would only toss and turn beneath the sheets.

After switching off the engine, Julia listened to the silence and surveyed the scene of her first murder case.

Yellow tape crisscrossed the front door of the club, ordering patrons not to enter while the sheriff’s department investigated inside. It seemed felonious there was nothing more specific: a warning that four rapes had occurred nearby; that a bloody homicide, only hours earlier, had ended the life of a vibrant young woman. Instead, generic strands of plastic, destined to be ripped down in the morning and discarded, fluttered in the night breeze.

Julia climbed out of the truck to sweep the darkness with her club-sized flashlight, an ugly tool designed to be as brutal as it was useful. Waves crashed against the shore nearby, while somewhere in the rooms above, the sound of someone vomiting clashed with faint strains of late-night TV. Julia looked up to see two rooms still lit on the second floor and a third on top.

Strange silhouettes struck poses in front of the bright windows: a beer-bellied monster with enormous hands advancing on the nipple-erect form of a thin-boned woman; someone with a hatchet nose and the burning tip of a cigarette dangling from his/her lip; the third room looked empty, but the hacking sound of dry heaves continued.

These were the sights the tourists rarely saw but to which she would most likely become all too accustomed. Night sounds in the seedy part of town. The smells: blood, sweat, fear and hate. Everything mingled together to create its own microcosm that was unlike anything Julia had read about in the academy or experienced on the farm.

As disturbing as it was, for the first time she truly felt a part of something. This was a world she had never envisioned and yet it was her duty to walk within it, protecting the innocent, punishing evil. Her mother would be appalled.

With her flashlight leading the way, Julia walked around the hotel, searching the doorways, trying to imagine how a killer entered the stage area without being seen. She only planned to take a minute. The night was cold, but this was her first case and none came bigger than murder.

At the side of the building, halfway down the alley, Julia yanked on the metal fire door the killer used as his escape route. It was locked tight. She walked further into the alley to the rear of the building and saw, beneath a twisting metal fire escape, a pathway that connected a metal door to an overflowing dumpster. Preventing people from getting onto the path was a chain-link cage that joined with the base of the fire escape. Julia walked beside the pathway until she reached two tall doors made of steel bars. The doors were designed to open onto the dumpster, allowing it to be emptied. Although they appeared to be chained shut, a large gap opened between them when Julia pulled.

After a moment’s hesitation, Julia slipped through the gap and ducked easily underneath the stretched chain. On the pathway, her feet squelched through layers of trampled grease and she had to hold onto the wall to prevent herself from falling. It only took a moment to reach the metal door. It was unlocked.

Inside, Julia found herself standing in a large kitchen, her flashlight highlighting a scattering of blackened pots and pans. The largest appliances in the room were a freezer and a deep fryer large enough to cook a small cow. Three other doors pocketed the room. The door on the left opened onto an empty hallway that led to the hotel lobby; the door in the middle of the far wall opened onto the strip club, but too far away from the stage for the killer; the door on the right opened onto another darkened hallway.

Julia followed this hallway to the first of three more doors. The door was locked, but screwed into it at chest level was a cheap plastic sign that read Manager’s Office. The second door was unlocked and it led into the dressing room behind the stage. After a quick look around, Julia retreated back to the hallway and tried the last door. It led onto the left wing of the stage. There, a narrow passage skirted behind the backdrop curtain to the empty wing where the killer had hid until Selene made her appearance.

Once the killer found a way around the kitchen staff, he would be home free. But he needed to use the side fire exit to ensure a quick escape.

Julia walked onto the stage, her flashlight playing around the smeared outline of Selene. Standing there, Julia became aware of another presence in the room, and as she turned to stare across the pool of darkness, a singsong voice said, “It’s a bit late for an audition, but I’m game.”

A flicker of white light danced four feet off the floor, briefly illuminating a cherubic face as it ignited an abnormally long cigarette.

“I’m with the sheriff’s department,” Julia said quickly, her flashlight focusing towards the cigarette, her free hand dropping to rest on the butt of her gun.

A boyish face smiled within the tiny spotlight before vanishing in the darkness. Julia desperately tried to find him again, but the room appeared deserted.

“You’re looking too high,” the man’s voice said from nearby. “Lower your expectations.”

Julia focused in on the voice and found its owner sitting at a front row table, smiling gleefully. He looked to be barely four-feet tall with a head too large for his body. He was immaculately dressed in beige designer pants and a luminescent blue silk shirt that filled his eyes with matching color. His auburn hair held a soft, natural wave, and his face looked as smooth as a baby’s bottom. His cigarette fit snugly inside a long, ivory holder.

“Had a good look?” he asked casually.

Julia felt an embarrassed flush redden her cheeks as she moved the flashlight away from his eyes.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“By definition I am the owner and manager of this sleazy establishment, entitled to wander throughout as I please. My moniker is Sir Percy Archibald Fearing the third, but as I’m in good humor, you may call me Percy.”

“I’m investigating the killing that took place here this evening,” Julia said, finding it difficult not to stare at the diminutive man as she lowered herself onto her haunches.

Percy dropped his smile and replaced it with a concerned frown. “Yes, nasty business. Selene was such a delightful girl, very generous and caring. Finn must be taking it hard; she was like a daughter to him.”

“Finn’s in a holding cell at the department.”

“Oh, my. Whatever for?” Percy asked, his eyebrows arching to the top of his crinkled forehead.

“He was going to shoot a man.”

“That doesn’t sound like Finn. Admittedly, we don’t always see eye to eye, but I wouldn’t have pictured him as the gun type. Smashing bones with a blunt instrument, perhaps. But guns, definitely not.”

“Why don’t you see eye to eye?” Julia asked, her eyes having adjusted enough to the darkness that she saw Percy squirm slightly in his chair.

“Well, that’s rather personal.”

“It could be important.”

Percy hesitated before taking another puff from his cigarette to blow rings of smoke from O-shaped lips. “Despite my size, I am a normally-functioning man with normally-functioning needs.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

“And Selene was a normally-functioning woman with, perhaps by some standards, unusually-functioning needs.”

“And?” pushed Julia.

“And she was also willing to do certain things for money.”

“Like?”

“Nothing bizarre,” Percy assured. “In fact we never had intercourse, she was quite adamant about that.”

“But?”

“But she would allow me to suckle. I would crawl up onto her lap, unbutton her shirt, and draw comfort from her warm, overabundant flesh.”

“And Finn objected?” Julia asked, trying not to let her own disgust show.

“Most definitely. He made Selene promise never to offer her comfort to me again.”

“Were you angry at him?”

“Oh, a little. But it isn’t like I can’t get comfort elsewhere. There are a thousand women who want me to do more than Selene ever allowed. In some areas, I am more than fully developed.”

“You didn’t shoot her?” It was a silly question to ask as Julia had seen the gunman’s back and he definitely wasn’t four feet tall, but she wanted to see his reaction.

“Heavens, no,” Percy replied. “I couldn’t bear to see such ample flesh go to waste.”

His reply was disturbing, but Julia kept her reaction hidden. Instead, finding the dark solitude of the room uncomfortable, she stood up to leave.

“I should be going now, but thank you for your time.”

“You’re more than welcome, Deputy Rusk. And if you ever need to speak again, I shall be more than happy to make myself available.”

Julia hesitated, sensing the tone of his voice had changed.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” she said.

“No,” Percy agreed. “You didn’t.”

Back in her truck, with the doors locked and the engine running, Julia felt a shiver run down her spine.