Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dante
As I left Ulysses in charge of the guards at the house, I summon Reino.
Since the incident with Tatiana at the pool and what we’ve learned about the explosion, I’ve kept Kent at arm’s length.
He’s got orders to oversee the smaller businesses in a different part of the city.
To be on the safe side, I had his phone tapped. So far, he’s being a model employee.
I brief Reino in the car on the way. The club owner has an agreement with Sav.
The manager meets us in person. The club may be dingy and smell of stale smoke, but the manager is as fresh as a daisy and decked out in a three-piece Armani suit.
He carries his slim frame with an air of dignity and elegance.
I show him the photo of Oxo or 0X0 that my hacker pulled from the police records. “We need to speak to her. I understand she works here.”
“Oxo?” He smooths down his tie. “She hasn’t showed up for the last three weeks.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
He takes an inhaler from his pocket and sucks hard enough on the mouthpiece to make it appear as if he’s trying to empty it. When he’s done, he meets my gaze with teared-up eyes and says in a voice that sounds as if he’s holding his breath, “She’s a freelancer.”
“I take it that means you don’t keep records of home addresses.”
He coughs. “Sorry, no. Only telephone numbers. The freelancers aren’t obliged to divulge the information as they don’t sign employment contracts.
” He beats a fist on his chest and clears his throat.
“Not that it means much. The girls move around, if you know what I mean. They never think about updating their information. It’s pointless to try and keep up.
” He waves over one of the waitresses. “I’ve left messages for Oxo since last week, but she hasn’t called back. I can give you her number.”
A half-naked woman with blond braids saunters up. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks,” I say, barely glancing at her. “The phone is dead. We traced it to a trashcan a block from here.”
The blonde steps in front of me. “Maybe something else?” She bats her eyelashes and looks me up and down. “A private lap dance? I have several routines that you may like.” She glances at Reino. “Your friend is welcome too.” She adds with a sultry smile, “Two for the price of one.”
“No.” I show her my ring finger. “Thanks.”
The manager catches her eye and tilts his head toward the bar. When she’s left with a finger-wave, he asks, “Is she in trouble? Oxo.”
“Maybe.”
“She’s not a bad girl.” His brow creases. “Not very picky when it comes to private customers, but she knows how to keep them happy.”
“I need a list of your customers, regulars and non-regulars.”
“I already told Sav I can give him our security camera recordings. We have one at the front entrance and one by the back door. Most of our customers pay cash, but you’re welcome to go through our card payment records.”
Reino takes his phone from his pocket and shows the manager the photos of the mercenaries. “Do they look familiar?”
The man squints at the screen. “Can’t say they do. They’re definitely not customers here.”
“Are you always here during operating hours?”
“Mostly. If I can’t be here, my second-in-command is in charge.”
“And who is he?” I ask.
“She.” The manager points at a woman with flaming red hair who mans the cash register behind the bar. “Sally.”
Reino hands him a business card with the number we use for off-the-books business. “Call us if she shows up or if you hear anything.”
He takes the card and studies the number. “Sure.”
I glance around the space. A few girls are warming up on stage. Topless waitresses are fluffing their hair and applying lipstick in the mirrored shelves of the bar, getting ready for their shift. “Can I talk to the staff?”
The owner holds out his arm, indicating that I may go ahead.
“Thanks.” Reino tips an imaginary hat at the man. “Much appreciated.”
We start with Sally. She tells us what the manager has said, that she’s never seen the Russians and that she hasn’t heard from Oxo in two weeks. She’s quick to add that they’re not close.
The other women don’t tell me anything useful either. None of them claim to be friendly with Oxo. Apparently, she keeps to herself.
After I’ve spoken to everyone, the manager shows us the changing room where the girls have lockers. He says when he opened Oxo’s locker, it was empty.
“They always keep at least a change of clothes here.” He combs his fingers through his graying hair. “I took this as her resignation.”
Reino juts his chin at the empty locker. “Does that happen often?”
“Rarely.” The man faces me. “Sometimes, a girl gets lucky and finds an unmarried man who’s serious about keeping her, but I can count the number of times that’s happened during my time here on one hand, and I’ve been managing this club for four years.”
I make my way to the exit, taking in the dreary décor and cheesy props before shooting over my shoulder, “The place can do with a makeover.”
The manager’s smile is indulgent. “Believe it or not, this is what our customers want. It’s not a place for men who want to conduct business and unwind with a few girls afterward.
It’s a hit-and-run joint.” He stands taller.
“That’s why we’re so successful. We know what we are, and we don’t pretend to be something different.
What you see is exactly what our clientele expects when they’re looking for a place where they don’t want to be recognized. ”
I thank the man and shake his hand before Reino and I take our leave.
“What about the police records?” Reino asks when we get into the car. “They must’ve listed an address.”
“I already had it checked out. She moved last year. The landlord said she didn’t leave a forwarding address.”
He starts the engine. “What about the mail? Did she get any he happened to keep?”
“Nothing except for junk mail. She doesn’t have a bank or store accounts, not even a loyalty card.”
“Clever. So no debt anywhere.”
“She must’ve paid for everything in cash.”
“No doubt from the tips she got from her clients as well as payment from dangerous mercenaries.” He shoots me a sidelong glance. “Did you read the report I sent you on those two guys? Their jobs were sure as hell messy.”
Brutal, to say the least.
Reino shifts gears. “If her fingerprint is on those pearls, it’s because she handled them. Any news about where the jewelry was bought?”
“The pearls were restrung. The clasp doesn’t have a jeweler logo. They were probably stolen.”
“It doesn’t surprise me that Oxo has vanished.
Those mercenaries didn’t work for themselves.
They worked for someone, and that someone will want to make sure she keeps her mouth shut.
If she’s as clever as she seems, she’ll also know that you’ll hunt her down and make her pay for what happened to Mrs. Morici.
She’s not going to hang around and take her chances.
By now, she’s either far away from here. ” He pauses. “Or she’s six feet under.”
I curl my fingers in a fist on the armrest. “We better find out which it is.”
Not only because she could tell us who was in charge of kidnapping my wife. Not even because I’m definitely going to make her pay. I have another reason for wanting to find her.
My voice is gruff. “She knows Tatiana’s face. She’ll know the body we burned wasn’t Stacia Delacy.”
She may talk to the cops if they cut her a deal, and that’s a risk I can’t take.
Reino focuses on the road with a solemn expression.
“I’ll make sure the security feed and card payment data from the club go to our tech team.
They can sift through the information to see if anything comes up.
In the meantime, I’ll send a team to the apartment listed in the police file.
We need to talk to the neighbors. Somebody may know something. ”
I nod. He knows the drill.
A notification pings on my phone. It’s an alert I set up for news concerning last night’s accidental fire. The incident is on the news.
The burner phone Reino keeps in the console rings. He pulls onto the curb and takes the call. After listening for a few seconds, he says, “Thanks,” before hanging up.
“That was our snitch.” He checks his side mirror before steering the car back into the traffic. “The feds are releasing the information they held back about the explosion today. He wanted to give us a heads up before it goes public.”
“Have they made arrests?”
“There wasn’t enough evidence to tie the bratva to the container of drugs they confiscated in a warehouse the mercenaries used for stocking their black-market arms.”
In that case, the death of their third suspect, Ms. Delacy, must’ve prompted the decision to go public.
After her death, they can no longer keep her questionable involvement in the explosion quiet.
There will be speculation about who put a home-made bomb in a bank safe box and why the mercenaries took her there.
What they’ll never guess is that my wife, who went missing for five fucking days—which were the longest five days of my life—knows where a valuable diamond necklace is hidden. They’ll never learn the real motive for what went down at Prosperity Bank.
The public has dubbed Prosperity as the unluckiest bank in the city.
The label is all over social media. First, the so-called robbery and mysterious explosion happened and then the tragic boat accident.
Clients are moving their funds elsewhere.
Shares are plunging. Unless a miracle saves them, it’s only a matter of time before the prestigious financial institution crashes.
Even though it’s tragic, the unavoidable sinking of the bank doesn’t affect me in the least.
What concerns me is that if Naomi, aka Oxo, is alive, she’ll see the news. If she’s met Tatiana, and I’m putting my money on the fact that she has, she’ll know the face on the news is wrong. She’ll know that wasn’t the woman the mercenaries kidnapped.
It’s crucial that I get to her before she gives herself up to the cops. If she does, Tatiana will be arrested for a double homicide she can’t remember, and five bank employees plus a tour boat operator would’ve been sacrificed in vain.