Chapter 2 Dominic #2
Whoever booked the room Gwen Bridges died in paid cash and used a fake name.
The security cameras in the lobby were down for maintenance—had apparently been down for an embarrassingly long time, per Grand Azure’s general manager—and the staff working the reception desk that night were completely unreliable.
One employee told us it was a man in his late forties, another told us it was an eighty-year-old woman who needed a cane to get around, and a third said the original booker of the room didn’t book it the night the murder occurred.
All that took us on a wild-goose chase, where every single lead led to a dead end. The only thing we know for sure about Gwen Bridges is that she didn’t have any history of drug use, even though she had a shitload of fentanyl in her system.
I look at Shane again. “Have we IDed her yet?”
“Her name is Heather Turnwat.”
I jerk my head toward the nightstand then. “Forensics dusted and photographed all this stuff?”
“Yep,” Dr. Booth chimes in. “They started in here.”
I swipe the cell phone from its spot next to the tray of strawberries and scroll through the list of calls.
The last ten of twelve all come from the same number.
I fish my phone from the interior pocket of my black suit jacket and dial it myself while Shane riffles through the small glitter-encrusted purse that was sitting beside the phone.
He holds out the ID, which matches the name he told me, and I nod.
The phone rings three times and then clicks over to trippy music before finally connecting. “Hello?” I say when the person on the other end doesn’t immediately offer a greeting.
“Right.” A female voice fills my ears, and the woman clears her throat. “Hello. Hi.”
“Hi. This is Detective Dominic Dunn with the Metro Nashville PD. Who am I speaking to?”
“Detective?” she says, pausing for a beat before answering. “Right. Yes. Hiii, Detective Dunn. I’m . . . Ruby.”
“Hi, Ruby. Listen, I’m calling because this number is involved in an active police investigation.”
“Oh nooo,” she says slowly, flattening her voice into a weird whisper. “Have I been a bad girl, Detective?”
My head jerks back. “Excuse me?”
“I . . . I guess I’m a bad, bad girl. Do I need to . . . pay my tickets? Or, um, would you like to cuff me up real good?”
What the fuck is she talking about?
“Ruby,” I respond, trying to get this conversation train back on track. “This is Detective Dunn with Metro PD. I’m calling about an active investigation.”
“An active investigation. Right,” she says, and her voice drops into the strangest purr. “I’m super-duper active and . . . wet. And so, so ready, Detective. So you go on with your questioning.”
“Ruby. This is a serious matter.”
“Yes, of course. I’m such a serious, serious girl, Detective, ready and waiting for you to tell me what else you want me to do.”
“Ruby, what in the hell is going on?”
Nothing she says makes sense or even remotely takes the seriousness of this into account. I’ve made a lot of calls to a lot of persons of interest, and this one feels like the weirdest yet. In fact, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve been dosed with fent.
“You tell me, Detective, what’s your . . . um . . . pleasure? Tell me allll your serious investigation pleasures.”
I pull the phone away from my ear, and Shane holds up his hands in question. I wave him off and grab the pen and notebook from my suit jacket pocket. “Ruby, what’s your last name?”
“My last name? It’s . . . uh . . . Cock . . . lover. Cocklover. Ruby Cocklover.”
Ruby Cocklover? You’ve got to be kidding me with this shit.
A deep, frustrated sigh rumbles from my chest, and Shane’s mouth curves up into a smile.
I’d bet my whole trust fund the fucker is mentally celebrating the fact that I’m the one dealing with whatever the hell this call is, not him.
It doesn’t matter that he can’t hear what’s going on from the other end of the line—my body language says it all.
“I love big cocks just like yours, Detective, and I’m in need of a big ol’ cock in my . . . hoo-hah.”
“Fucking hell,” I mutter to myself, though she obviously hears it through the receiver and misinterprets it entirely.
“Oh yeah, you want to do that? Give me all the good . . . fuck stuff. Because fucking is one of my favorite things,” she says, actually singing the last line like she’s one of the Von Trapp kids from The Sound of Music.
Clearly, this phone call is going nowhere.
“Ruby, I’m going to hang up now, but I’ll be calling back again, as this is a serious matter we need to discuss.”
“Of course . . . Call me anytime, Detective. Just dial 615-250-5555.”
I scribble the number down on my pad, knowing it’s not the one I just dialed, and pull my phone away from my ear, my face undoubtedly a mask of the confusion I feel.
“What was that?” Shane asks, just barely keeping himself from laughing.
I shake my head, because the truth is I have no clue. That was the weirdest thing I’ve ever been a part of.
Shane takes the victim’s phone from my hand and studies the number I dialed and then snaps his fingers. “Ah, shit. Yeah, this is a Call Me Anytime number, dude.”
“Call Me Anytime,” I repeat, mulling it over and realizing Ruby said those very words to me as she was ending the call. “Shit. That’s the same company Gwen worked for.”
How the fuck could I forget that? Honestly, I’m a little pissed at myself for being so slow on the uptake.
“Looks like we’ve got a little more than a pattern.” Shane rubs his hands together. “Another phone sex girl, huh? This case is really shaping up to be interesting.”
“Put the wood away, Detective Maddox. We don’t have confirmation yet that she actually worked at Call Me Anytime. Maybe she was a customer.”
“C’mon, man.” He scoffs. “You really think she was calling into the phone sex hotline? Get real. That would go against every basic statistic we’ve ever seen.”
“I’m not disagreeing, but we’ve got to confirm this shit first.” I hold my notepad toward him, showcasing the number I jotted down. “Also, she gave me a different phone number.”
“Did she tell you her full name?”
“Ruby Cocklover.”
He laughs. “Oh yeah. I love this case already.”
I roll my eyes as Shane rubs his hands together. “Just call in a trace, would you?”
The sooner we figure out who Ruby Cocklover is, the better.