Chapter 2

“Goddamnit!” Joe grumbled.

“Fuck!” Estella agreed.

Both looked at the images they’d been sent of Jack’s beaten body.

“Is he going to make it?” Estella asked.

Jim, the man who’d done the preliminary work on Jack in the ambulance responded, “It’s still too early to say. We’ve got him in an induced coma because of the brain bleed. His organs look okay, and we’ve sutured what needed suturing, so the internal bleeding, at least in his abdomen, seems to be under control. That’s definitely a plus.”

“How long do you think he was tortured?” Jackie, whose basement the three occupied, asked.

“From the scarring, I’d say at least a few hours.”

“Fuck!” Joe growled. “Any idea about what he was working on?”

“All we got is his last location, or at least that of his cell phone before it was probably destroyed,” Jackie said.

“Then that’s a no,” Joe muttered.

The older African man in the monitor shook his head. “Nothing we sent him on,” he confirmed.

“What about his computer?” Jackie asked.

“You mean his brain?” Jim chuckled. “Jack preferred to be low tech. Hardly even wrote things down. Kept everything in his head. Safer that way I guess. Just the cell phone, though that was top of the line.”

“Not very helpful,” Jackie muttered. “So I take it there was nothing in his home?”

“We haven’t checked it yet. Honey’s got the keys. You know Honey?” Jim asked, somehow looking in Joe’s direction.

“Not officially,” Joe nodded. “Been to her club where Jack and I would meet and he’d point her out, but since she’s not...”

“Makes sense,” Jim nodded. “Anyway, my compatriot took her to a safe house and gave her a sedative. She insisted she be there when we go in.”

“Good,” said Joe. “Gives us time to get there.”

“I will let my friends know,” the African nodded, accepting the case for the cabal, which, with Jack an essential part of the group, was a foregone conclusion. His visage disappeared.

“Could you check out the last location of the phone?” Joe asked Jim.

“It’s the Wynne,” Jackie said.

“The hotel?” Jim asked. “We’ll give the fancy premises a look. Anything specific?”

“Not really exact, but I’d say the northeast side.”

“Probably the waste area, the area where the rich and famous avoid,” Joe suggested.

Jackie pulled up a diagram of the building. “Yep,” he saw.

“I’ll see if there’s any cameras,” Jim nodded.

“One can hope,” Joe sighed. “Go fetch your go bag, Stell.”

“On it,” Estella responded and headed up the stairs.

“I’ve booked you on a flight in two hours,” Jackie reported. “First class of course,” he added with his usual fey flourish.

“Thanks, Jackie.”

By the time Joe walked up to the main floor of the fancy house, Estella was heading down with her smallish luggage. They gave each other a kiss and headed out.

Estella stashed her bag beside Joe’s in the trunk and he negotiated his car out of the long driveway onto the road that circled Lake of the Isles in Minneapolis. It was still dark out, but the east hinted of the emerging sun.

That early, the rush hour hadn’t quite formed, though enough workers worked early that there was some traffic while they headed to the airport.

“I presume there’ll be some looking through trash at the Wynne,” Estella asked along the way.

“We have some connections with the Feds,” Joe explained. “Mostly DEA and ATF, and white slavery got some immigration people on our side, but Jack’s connected locally with the Las Vegas police and the FBI, at least some of them. Others of course think he’s a loose gun, some might even be involved. Jim should know who’s who hopefully, and that’s who he’ll recruit.”

“Makes sense,” Estella nodded. “Jack’s been a PI there for a while, right?”

“Jack was a vice cop in LA until he was pushed out for supposedly taking a bribe. That was like ten years ago.”

“Isn’t that his MO?”

“Not then. He slipped underground and traced the accusation to Las Vegas with ties to some of his ex-colleagues who he managed to make ex. But the whole thing made him pissed.”

“He decided to take the money as long as they’d accused him of it.”

“Basically. That got him noticed and our group approached him. He was happy for the pay.”

“And the takes.”

“Yep.”

“Including Keiko’s upstairs neighbors.” Keiko had been an escort and lover of Estella’s in Waikiki who spied on the penthouse apartment above hers, her research enabling the bust of the dealers

“Most likely. He’s got a DEA badge, and our group backs him up.”

“Clever man.”

“Maybe that cleverness caught up to him.”

“You think it might have been someone he busted?”

“That would be the most obvious conclusion, but somehow I doubt it.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because a good amount of his cleverness was never having the busts come back at him. Somehow he’d find a way to blame someone else, usually one of the parties getting busted. Even that first time in Vegas, he made it an ex colleague who took the heat. And having him at the Wynne seems just wrong. He must have been investigating something and got found out. Probably something he wasn’t sure enough about to let us in on it yet.”

“Maybe he turned out to be a loose gun after all and got over his head.”

“That just doesn’t sound like him. He’d have contacted us, or some local connection like the cops or the press or something if it was something big enough to risk torturing him.”

“Maybe it was a client.”

“He did like missing persons cases.”

“We’re already talking like he’s dead,” Estella murmured.

“Yeah,” Joe sighed.

Once they exited the secure area of the Las Vegas airport, Joe paused and looked around, suddenly smiling. “Why don’t you head to the bathroom before we leave,” he told Estella.

“But...”

He leaned in. “Last stall that isn’t locked.”

“Be right back,” she told him and headed to the women’s toilet. The second to the last ended up free, and as she undid herself to pee, a manilla envelope slid beside her feet, a star drawn on it. It made her smile. The stall beside her flushed. She hid the envelope in her bag and finished up.

When she returned to Joe she asked, “How...?”

“Spycraft,” he whispered back and winked. “Let’s get our rental.”

Outside the building, Estella could have sworn she saw Maya’s gray Lincoln Continental drive by, and decided she had, confirming what she had suspected, the star on the manila envelope making sense, being Keiko’s nickname for her, a bit of a tease about her stripper cover.

A shuttle brought them to a car rental place where Jackie had rented them a luxurious Mercury. It paid to have a cabal with deep pockets, literally. Inside the car, Estella opened the envelope and found a map and turn by turn directions to the safe house which housed Honey, a printout of Jack’s cell phone calls and another with names and addresses of the callers. Jackie had been a busy man.

“The last call came from the Wynne,” Estella reported.

“The switchboard,” Joe nodded.

“Any way to get the room number?” Estella asked.

“I don’t know if Jackie can, but maybe one of Jack’s cop friends. Let’s see who might be investigating there.”

It wasn’t out of the way really to drive by the waste area of the Wynne.

“Does that look like a cop’s car to you?” Joe asked, spotting a Ford Intrepid parked in a no parking zone.

“I wouldn’t know,” Estella pointed out.

“I suppose not,” Joe chuckled. Estella hadn’t been living in the US all that long, Joe having rescued her from assassination that the leader of the Central American country, one whom she helped become leader, had attempted.

Joe parked behind the car, and as they walked towards the several garbage containers, a thickset older man that somehow reminded Estella of Jack, including the gruffness, appeared smoking a cigarette and headed towards them. “I think the entrance is on the other side,” he said.

“You wouldn’t happen to know a Jack Collier?” Joe asked. “Maybe a Jim Hanson?”

The man immediately softened his presence, nodding. “You heard anything about how Jack’s doing?”

“Just got into town,” Joe told him. “Last I heard it wasn’t great.”

“Yeah.”

“I suppose you haven’t found his cell yet.”

“Nope.”

“You have his call history?”

“Son of a bitch did some hiding.”

“Last call was from the Wynne switchboard,” Estella told the man.

He pulled out a small notepad and a pen. “Exact time?”

Estella told him.

“You wouldn’t have a copy of that list?” the cop asked.

“Mind if we drop a copy off at your office?” Joe asked.

“1st precinct, downtown.”

“Your name?”

“Detective Gene Stafford.” He spelled it out. “Maybe sooner than later?”

“Of course.”

Once back in their car and driving to the safe house, Joe wondered to himself, “Kind of old to just be detective.”

“What should he be?” Estella asked.

“Lieutenant or Sergeant at least or maybe even retired,” Joe chuckled.

“Maybe he’s too much trouble like Jack,” Estella speculated.

“Maybe just knowing Jack,” Joe agreed.

“Why not leave him with the list?” Estella asked.

“We really don’t know who he is.”

“Of course,” Estella nodded. “Then why give Jim up?”

“Jim’s been Jack’s go between for years, like the respectable face or something. He’s a known quantity at least for those in the know. He’s also a known quantity in this town, sort of a GP to the haves.”

“GP?”

“General practitioner. Like the doctor you go visit for your annual check-up. Started out in the army as a medic to benefit from the GI bill, and worked his way up to respectability.”

“Him having been in the army...?”

“Special forces medic, yep,” Joe nodded.

“You ever need his services?”

“Post special forces for both of us,” Joe replied.

“Do I want to know?”

“Got shot in the butt.”

“Ouch,” she laughed. “That how you know him?”

“Whenever I’m in town, he’s usually Jack’s tippling buddy who usually picks up the check at Jack’s insistence.”

“How often are you in Las Vegas?”

“Maybe once a year on average. What with all the conventions and the party atmosphere it can be a font of knowledge.”

“Makes sense. What about all the history of crime families owning the place?”

“Way before my time. Although money is money, so it’s not all innocence now either. They’re just better at hiding in the sand so to speak.”

“You think this Wynne guy...”

“Just about using the facilities I’m sure, but it is an interesting choice.”

“How come?”

“Kind of a fancy place. It shows a bit of pretentiousness.”

“Like owning a derringer.”

“A proper gentleman,” Joe quoted.

Estella snickered.

“What?”

“I was thinking of Sally’s husband” referring to Joe’s sometimes rich fuck. “Sounds like his type of guy.”

“I doubt it’ll be that coincidental.”

“You ever check up on him?”

“Phillip? Of course.”

“And?”

“A jet setter as they used to call them.”

“A playboy.”

“Yeah. Even been to the Playboy Mansion a time or two.”

“Not surprising.”

“No.”

“But what about boys?”

“He’s more discreet about that.”

“As in?”

“As in nothing obvious.”

“But...?”

“Beyond getting caught with the pool boy ... my guess is if the opportunity presents itself, like at some fancy party or something and someone catches his eye ... but he seems to keep that well-hidden.”

“Maybe a bit closeted about it.”

“Maybe.”

They arrived at a neighborhood of small homes, a place where the workers in Sin City could afford, albeit with a bit of a commute, and to the last one before the desert remained undisturbed. They parked at the curb, the open shelter that served as a sort of garage occupied by an older model Honda compact. A shorter, modestly handsome man opened the door for them just as they arrived at it.

“Joe I presume,” he said.

“This is Estella,” Joe told the man. “How is she?”

“Pissed. She’s a tough one.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“We’re in the kitchen.”

They passed through a small living room, neat and modest, and entered an efficiently sized kitchen with a square wooden table and four matching wooden chairs surrounding it.

A full breasted blonde woman with largish, expressive blue/gray eyes and a broad face, lips on the full size, cheekbones semi-prominent as was her chin held her mug of coffee tightly with both hands as she brought it to her mouth. She had beauty, to be sure, but had the face that needed that bit of make-up she undoubtedly wore religiously to really bring it out.

“I’m sorry to hear about Jack,” Joe said.

She brought the mug down hard and growled in slightly high yet smoke effected voice, “Why can’t I see him?”

Joe sat across from her and waited to catch her eye before telling her, “He’s in an administered coma so the doctors can fix him. He won’t know you’re there...”

“But...”

“You don’t want to see him like that. Not Jack. He wouldn’t want you to either.”

A half smile barely appeared on her face. “You know him?”

“We’ve bumped into each other now and then.”

“Jack and his mysteries,” Honey muttered. “Are you part of why...?”

“No, Honey. We’re as much in the dark about what happened to him as you are. Whatever it was, it was something he was investigating on his own.”

She nodded. “I must look a mess.”

Joe smiled. “How about we take care of that?”

She smiled back hopefully. “You mean...?”

“Let’s get you home.”

“Thank god. Not that you haven’t been the perfect gentleman, Harvey.”

“It was a privilege, Ma’am,” Harvey bowed slightly.

“See?” Honey giggled.

“I do,” Joe chuckled.

Standing up, Estella got the full effect of her, the hourglass shape in her tailored button front blouse and high waist skirt, falling just above her knees, of a fifties pin-up girl.

“You have an amazing body,” Estella couldn’t help exclaiming.

Honey shrugged. “It’s served its purpose. You’re no slouch either...”

“Estella.”

“Estella. And not an ounce of make-up on that lovely face,” Honey sighed. “Men do love that exotic look.”

“Let’s recruit in the car, shall we?” Joe suggested.

Both women chuckled. Estella knew Honey’s business.

Once in the car and driving, Honey sitting in the back seat, she asked, “Do I need to hide my face?”

“The safe house was more just in case,” Joe explained, “and to keep you company.”

“Harvey really was sweet. And the sleeping pills definitely helped.”

“So going to Jack’s place...,” Estella started.

“Jack was always brilliant at compartmentalizing,” Joe explained. “Keeping business away from personal.”

“I can testify to that,” Honey muttered. “When I moved in with him some ... I don’t know ... maybe five, six years ago, he actually sold it to me, and I think even then he used some alias before that.”

“He has an office just off Fremont Street adjacent to his supposed apartment,” Joe continued.

“A front?” Estella asked.

“Not really. It really was for his PI business.”

“I’ve never been,” Honey told them. “But I bet he made use of that apartment.”

“I imagine both places have been ransacked,” Joe muttered. “I’m hoping he has some place he stashes some copies of what he’s worked on.”

“He does have an office at our house,” Honey agreed. “A no Honey zone I might add. He always kept the door closed.”

“You were never curious?” Estella asked.

“Of course I was, but I’d never break his trust. It’s ... what kept us together.” She sniffled.

“Sorry,” Estella apologized.

“I’ve always worried about that son of a bitch. He could be a fucking bull sometimes, and I always thought there’d be one too many China shops, you know?”

“We’ll figure this out, Honey. We’ll get the assholes,” Joe promised.

“I want in,” Honey declared.

“You sure?” Joe asked, surprising Estella.

“I know just the shoe to kick the cocksuckers’ balls, with a nice stiletto heal to fuck their fucking asses with.”