"Yeah."
"I assume you're referring to Esmerelda Lowenstein."
Kristen looked a little confused. "Of course."
"I think she's the only Esmerelda in the city." Kristen paused.
"Or was, at least." She suddenly looked sad. "She was a cool
person."
"You two got along, then?"
"Yeah. Sure. Everyone got along with her. She was geniunely nice and
helpful. Everyone always went to her when they needed help changing costumes or
something." Kristen smiled at
As much as he wanted to ask more about Esmerelda,
"Sure. Most of the regulars at the club have. They get drunk, they get
stupid, and you get goosed. It's a pretty regular thing."
"Mr. Zucker told me there was a strictly enforced no-groping policy."
"Mr. Zucker spends his nights locked in his office doing god knows what
and with whom." Kristen voice turned bitter. "He just leaves us to
our own devices, and anyone who complains gets a "bonus"."
"Kristen, I'm going to go find Detective Martin and Detective Barker. I'd
like you to tell them what you just told me about Dennis Tyler and Mr. Zucker,
all right?"
Kristen shrugged. "Fine."
Kendall stood from his desk and looked around for a moment for Patrick and
Emilie. He didn't see them anywhere within sight, so he turned and headed for
the interrogation room. He found the two of them plus Nickolas standing outside
the first one, talking in low tones. "I need you two to go talk to
Kristen. She's said some things about Dennis Tyler and Mr. Zucker that comes
off as highly suspicious."
Patrick and Emilie both looked at Nickolas. "Are we done here?"
Emilie asked.
Nickolas nodded. "Go ahead and talk to her. I need Kendall for Tyler,
anyway." He motioned Kendall into the observation room and closed the
door. Dennis Tyler could clearly be seen through the glass taking small sips of
his coffee and looking around at the bare, seafoam green walls. "Emilie
got him in a fighting mood while you were talking to Kristen. He called her a
bunch of names. Patrick can't go in there because Dennis Tyler thinks he's an
everyman."
"You need me to play the good guy?"
"Just sympathize."
Kendall rocked back on his heels for a moment. "Shouldn't be to hard
considering I'm having sympahty pains."
Nickolas smiled. "Aren't we all." He handed a pack of cigarettes and
a lighter to Kendall. "His right hand's been twitching like mad when it's
not on the coffee cup. I think he's a smoker."
"Are those Emilie's?"
"Yeah. Don't tell him."
Kendall took the cigarettes and lighter and took a moment to straighten his
shoulders. "Does he know we're on him for Esmerelda?"
"No. Just get the details of tonight. See if anything slips. I don't want
to get him in here, get a confession, and then get busted by lawyers for not
stepping right."
"I'm on it. Give me an extra minute." Kendall stepped out of the
observation room and turned down the hall towards the break room. He passed by
Nickolas again a moment later with a quick grin and a fresh bag of ice in his
hand. He entered the interrogation room looking every inch the sympathetic guy.
"Hey."
Dennis Tyler barely looked up from staring at the table top. His right hand was
off the coffee cup and tapping an uneven beat against the table.
Kendall sat across from him and put the bag of ice on between them.
"Thought you could use a new one."
Dennis Tyler took it and replaced the old one without saying a word.
"You smoke?" Kendall slid the cigarettes and the lighter across the
table. "I'm going to have to take the lighter back after you're
done."
Dennis Tyler lit up a cigarette and passed the lighter back across the table.
"When am I getting out of here?"
"I don't know. The girl who's screaming shit about you is getting talked
into pressing charges, I think. You may have to spend the night." Kendall
leaned back from the table, tilting his chair and propping his foot on the
edge. "I'm just here to keep you company."
"You're a cop?"
"Yeah. Kendall Layton."
"Kendall?"
"Yeah."
"That's a queer's name."
Kendall laughed. "Tell me about it. And Ken's worse. I just go by Layton
most of the time."
Dennis Tyler blume smoke out of one side of his mouth and kept the cigarette
balanced in the other. "So, what's going on, you come in here, give me a
cigarette, and I'm supposed to tell you all the bad shit I did tonight?"
"Nah. You'd never fall for it anyway. One of the stupidest tricks in the
book." Kendall put his arms behind his head. "You were at
*Tallywackers*, right?" Dennis Tyler looked at him suspiciously. "I
heard her say the name of the place when I was sitting at my desk."
Kendall watched as he relaxed ever so slightly. "I used to go there before
I became a cop. I'm not allowed now. It would make my moral fiber look
bad." Kendall rolled his eyes. "Is it still as good as it used to
be?"
Dennis Tyler relaxed a little more. "Better."
"Judging by that chick out there, they've still got the best tits in
town."
"Her's are mediocre compared to some of the others there."
Kendall gave a grin that he hoped came off as a leer that men shared when
discussing women's tits. "Even better than her? You've got to be kidding
me. Her's could take my eyes out."
"There's another girl who works there, and she does an entire number with
a dildo that'll blow your mind." Dennis Tyler's eyes were getting excited.
He was obviously on a topic he liked a lot.
"A dildo?"
"Yeah."
Kendall widened his leer. "Where does she put it?"
"Unfortunately, not where you'd like to see it. Technically it's a sex act
if she gets herself off with it, so there's a lot left to the
imagination."
"Even better."
Dennis Tyler leaned forward. "I know. And at the end, she'd hold it
between her tits and let you slip your tips in."
"Nice way to get a quick feel."
"Best tits I ever felt."
"I bet. How much have you blown on this girl all together?"
Dennis Tyler shrugged. "Enough to make it worth my while."
Kendall nodded. "I hear you. Is she the type to do a little after-hours
partying with a guy?"
"Nope. *Tallywackers* went totally-lesbo a couple of years ago. Probably
right after you time."
"Probably." Kendall paused appropriately and then put a conspirital
smile on his face. "She the type that plays with her girlfriend and lets
you watch?"
Dennis Tyler's eyes glazed for a few seconds. "I wish. I never could get
her to give me a private performance with one of the other girls. I tried like
fuck. A couple of them have done a little something for me, but they always
insisted that their boss be there."
For the second time in an hour, Kendall had to keep his eyebrows from jumping
off his forehead. He pretended to be thinking for a moment so he could pull
himself together. "Does Zucker still own that place? I think that's who owned
it when I went there."
"Zucker's still there. He's a good guy."
"So, he gets to watch his dancers have a good time together?" Kendall
waggled his eyebrows. It seemed the easiest way to keep them busy since they
were still trying to escape his face.
Dennis gave a low, dirty chuckle. "Yeah. He does it all the time. If
you're a *really* good customer," he rubbed his thumb against his fingers,
giving the universal sign for 'money', "then you get to watch. If you're
really, really good, you get to play, too."
"But not with your favorite?"
"Esmerelda didn't like boys at all, but a couple of those girls, they like
boys okay if they're paying."
Kendall put a happily surprised look on his face. "You got to *fuck* a
couple of the *Tallywackers* girls?"
"More than once."
Before Kendall could answer, the door to the interrogation room swung up, and
Nickolas walked in. "Layton! I've been looking for you for
fifteen-goddamned-minutes! Get your ass in my office!"
Kendall stood up and looked over at Dennis Tyler. "Who's going to keep an
eye on him?"
"I've got an officer at the door, now get your ass in my office!"
Nickolas looked pissed.
Kendall nodded a goodbye to Dennis Tyler, slid past his Lieutenant, and
followed him into the observation room. "Nice bellow."
"Thanks." Nickolas leaned against the wall. "He slipped."
"I heard him. She 'didn't' like boys." Kendall put his hands in his
pockets. "I'm wondering now if he and Zucker weren't in this
together."
"Go talk to some of the other dancers, see if they'll add any truth to his
story. He could be blowing shit out his ass."
"Yeah. I think I'll order a rape kit from the ME just to be safe. He's
stuck on her. He may have raped her then killed her."
Nickolas shook his head. "Doesn't work. Stacy Carter said they had sex,
then Zucker left, then she locked the door right behind him. He couldn't have
raped her and killed her in the time Stacy Carter went to lock the door and
come back."
Kendall wrinkled his nose in frustration. He knew Nickolas was right.
"Mind if I run it, anyway? I want to cover all the bases this thing is
giving us."
"Hell if I care, but it's your ass when the taxpayers start
bitching."
"About what? Making twice as much as the people saving their asses?"
Nickolas laughed and patted Kendall on the shoulder. "You did a good job
in there."
"Thanks. You did a good job sounding pissed at me."
"Just giving you a taste of your future."
Kendall smirked. "Can't wait."
*
Patrick handed Kristen a cup of coffee and smiled at her. "I went down to
the main floor to get it. Our coffee in the break room could solidify your
stomach if you're not used to it."
Kristen took the cup and wrapped her hands around it. There was a draft of
unknown orgin coming through the room. "Thanks." She sipped it
carefully.
"You're welcome." Patrick gestured to Emilie who was seated next to
him. "This is Emilie Barker. She's my partner."
Kristen smiled at her. It was a sweet smile, like one might see on a Sunday
School teacher. "Nice to meet you. I saw you come in the club."
Emilie looked slightly surprised. "How could you see me?"
"I was backstage getting ready and took a peek out to get a look at the
crowd. I saw you guys come in." She turned her smile to Patrick.
"That's how I saw you at my stage so fast."
Patrick grinned. "You were quick."
"Part of the job. Spot the guys with the money, play up to them. Get
enough tips so you can leave early." Kristen shrugged. "I'm not
really fond of the job, but I can dance, and I have a good body, and the
money's good."
"What would you rather be doing?" Emilie was leaned back in her chair
with her left ankle resting on her right knee. In her suit and with her hair
back, she looked like someone's cool college professor ready to organize a
rally against shitty cafeteria food.
"Pretty much anything else, really. I'm studying to be a phsyical
therapist. It's expensive, and it's not something I can pay for with a minimum
wage job."
"How'd you end up at *Tallywackers*?" Patrick was sitting in his
chair and leaning against his desk.
"I went to the club one night with a bunch of friends just for the hell of
it, and they were having amatuer night. I got up and danced. I won. They
offered me a job, and I thought, "What the hell, it'll pay for
school." I've been there four years. I graduate in May."
"How well did you know Esmerelda?"
"We were friends, I guess. We didn't do anything outside of the club, but
we talked when we were working." Kristen took another careful sip of her
coffee. "Dennis used to bother her, too. He was kind of obsessed."
Emilie tilted her head. "Kind of obsessed is like kind of pregnant. You
are or you aren't."
Kristen nodded decisively. "Then he was." She set her coffee on the
edge of her desk and rubbed her hands on her jeans. It was obviously a nervous
gesture. "He would come in at opening and stay until we closed. Brad and
Mike could barely get him to leave at closing, sometimes. He always wanted to
hang around and have 'a word with Esmerelda.' That's how he always put it; 'I
just want to have a word with Esmerelda.' He's creepy. He always has been. He
used to watch me like he did her, but then she showed up, and she distracted
him." Kristen paused, and her mouth opened in a small 'o' of shock.
"Do you think Dennis killed her?"
Emilie had to congratulate the girl for catching on. She was worried they were
going to forced to spell it out with small words and large diagrams. "This
man, by your report, is creepy, and he grabbed at you. You've just told us he
usually spends his nights drooling over Esmerelda."
"He's a bastard, sure, but he's not *that* much of a bastard."
"As far as you know."
Kristen looked peeved. "Look, I'm not saying Dennis isn't a sleeze, but
he's not a murderer."
"No," Emilie sat up straight, looking much lese like a cool college
professor and more like a woman about to make a very strong point. "But
he's enough of a sleeze to grab a woman in a parking lot. How far do you think
he has to slither before he's enough of a sleeze to kill a woman? I doubt it's
very far."
Kristen looked ready to spit in Emilie's face. Kendall walked up next to her
and stopped her just in time. "Kristen, you know about Mr. Zucker's
private shows at the club, right?"
She looked over at him. "Of course I know. I told him," she gestured
at Patrick, "about them this morning."
"Okay." Kendall did a quick gauge of the tension in the little
triangle he had entered into. It was pretty thick. "Did you ever perform
for Mr. Zucker?"
Kristen quickly looked like she didn't give a damn about Emilie. Now she looked
as if she wanted to spit in Kendall's face. "And if I did?"
"Look, I don't care if you did or you didn't. I'm just asking so I can
follow it with another question."
"I let him watch me a few times." She sounded like a sullen
five-year-old. No one in the little circle was happy with that similarity.
Somehow, it seemed to border on pedophilia.
"Did he ever let anyone else watch?" Kristen blanched and Kendall had
his answer. Kendall saw the looks Emilie and Patrick were giving him, but he
ignored them for the moment. "Dennis Tyler watched you, didn't he?"
She didn't move for a moment, then, she nodded very slowly. Kendall didn't give
her a half-second to think up an excuse. "Did you ever have sex with
Dennis Tyler?"
Kristen went stock-still and glared hard at Kendall. "That's not your
business."
"It is. If it in any way pertains to Esmerelda, it's completely our
business. Get indignant if you want, but you came here and started talking. We
didn't make you."
"I came to report an *attack*!"
"And you've done that. If you're done, you can leave. If you want to help
us, you're welcome to stay. It's your call."
Kristen looked between the three of them, and her face flushed. "I'm the
victim here!"
Patrick held up a placating hand. "We're not arguing that. You were
attacked, and if you want to press charges, we'll throw Dennis Tyler in a cell
for the night and let him sit there until his court date. However, it's
possible you may also have information about Esmerelda we could use that you're
not sharing. If you walk out now, we'll going to do whatever you want us to do
with Dennis Tyler, but we are also going to assume you're hiding something and
start riding your ass hard enough to leave burns."
"I don't know anything!" The sheer venhemence in Kristen's gave her
away entirely. People who didn't know anything weren't nearly as defensive. She
stood, grabbed her purse, and turned to stomp out the door.
Emilie stopped her with a question. "What about Dennis Tyler?"
Kristen stopped, one foot a half-inch off the ground. "I want to charge
him."
"Go downstairs and tell the cop at the desk. He'll find someone to help
you."
They all watched as Kristen flounced out of the squadroom and then both Emilie
and Patrick turned to face Kendall. "What was with the questions,
Doll?"
Kendall gave them a rundown of his conversation with Dennis Tyler. "I'm
going to have the medical examiner run a rape kit. I doubt anything will show
up, but I want to be sure."
Emilie gave a sugary-sweet, and obviously fake, smile. "Why, Doll, is that
intuition you're using?"
"Yeah, I borrowed some from the jar you keep in your desk. You might want
to add it to the grocery list, you're running low." With a satisfied gleam
in his eyes, Kendall walked away.
Emilie looked like she was about to gape like a fish. "Did he just mouth
off to me?"
"He always mouths off to you."
"But was it more pronounced?"
Patrick shrugged. "Maybe. Pennington proably inspired him."
Emilie glared at him.
*
The rest of the shift went quietly. Emilie reviewed her notes from her meeting
with Zucker and she compared Kendall's notes to hers. "Hey, Doll."
He looked up from where he was browsing Esmerelda's reports again. He wanted to
make sure he knew what they'd said before when he went and talked to them
again. "Yeah?"
"Zucker didn't make any mention of the broken lock to you did he?"
"Nope."
"You sure?"
Kendall wheeled his chair over and looked over Emilie's shoulder at his notes.
"Did I make any note about it?"
"No."
"Then he didn't say anything."
Emilie turned to look at him. "You're absolutley sure?"
Kendall gave her an annoyed look. "I've been a cop for tweleve years, no
matter how soft you think the spot on top of my head is, and I think I've
learned to take interview notes by now."
"You're pissy tonight, aren't you?"
"I'm pissy every night. You just never notice."
"You sound like someone's pissed wife."
Kendall cracked a grin. "You sound like a spinster."
"I am."
"You're not that old."
Emilie rolled her chair back from Kendall a few feet. "I'm old enough to
be your mother."
"Hardly. Unless you hit puberty when you were six."
"We grew up faster in my day."
Kendall went from a grin to a chuckle. "Did you play stickball in the
street with the boys in short pants, too? Or did your mom keep you inside and
make you learn to weave your own sheep on the loom?"
"We didn't weave sheep."
"Goats, then?"
"Penguins. Go back to your desk." Kendall did, and Emilie turned back
to her notebook. She caught Patrick watching her with an amused look on her
face. "What?"
"It's nothing. I've just never observed the mating habitrs of one uptight
bitch and one slightly secretive man before."
"Fuck off, Patrick." Emilie didn't look the least bit amused.
Four hours later, they were all off for the day, and left for their respective
homes. Or at least, that was the plan.
Kendall grabbed Emilie's elbow on the way out the door. "You busy?"
She raised her eyebrows. "I'm going to bed."
"Want company?"
Had Emilie been the type of person who's jaw dropped, it would have dropped
then. "Excuse me?"
Kendall looked completely non-plussed. "You're wired. I'm wired. Sex gets
people unwired. You want to get unwired?"
"You're not actually using that as a pick up line, are you?"
"I don't do pick up lines."
"Then what the hell was 'want company'?"
Kendall shrugged. "An honest offer."
Emilie slowly removed her arm from Kendall's grasp. He didn't try to stop her.
"You realize I'm not particularly fond of you, right?"
"If you're going to be blunt with me, be blunt with me, okay?"
"You're hiding something, and I don't like that."
Kendall shook his head. "That has nothing to do with this."
"What is the 'that' you're talking about?"
Kendall pressed his lips together. Emilie had obviously hit a nerve.
"Look. I'm offering a roll in the hay, no strings, no ball and chain, no
'oh, god, what the fuck have I done' flashbacks. Yes or no?"
Emilie had not pegged Kendall as the kind of guy to suddenly approach someone
for what amounted to nameless sex. She had not pegged him for the type to bring
it up so casually. She had not pegged him as the casual fling type.
She was not stupid enough to give up a strings-free roll in the hay with a
good-looking man who was younger than her. She knew a good fling when she saw
it. "I think I live closer."
*
Daniel met Nickolas at the door with a glass of orange juice.
"Morning."
Nickolas took the juice and downed it in a gulp. "Morning. What are you
doing up?"
"Writer's block."
"How bad is it?"
"Bad."
Nickolas didn't ask for any further explanation. Danny was talking in
fragments. He was speaking in fragments without verbs. He had very bad writer's
block. "Anything I can do?"
"No." Daniel's face clouded as he turned away.
Nickolas sighed and rubbed between Daniel's shoulderblades as he went to put
his glass in the kitchen sink. "Do you want some company?"
"No." Daniel flopped onto the couch and glared up at the ceiling.
Nickolas sat on the other end of the couch. "Are you going to use more
than two words at a time?"
"No."
"I sat and watched Emilie and Patrick play 'gritty cops' at the beginning
of shift." When Nickolas didn't get a response, he gave a mental shrug and
went into detail on the rest of his night. Daniel was listening, even if he was
still trying to burn a hole in the ceiling. He'd be able to give a blow-by-blow
account of Nickolas's night later if prompted, right now, he just wanted to be
pissed. Nickolas let him be pissed.
*
"Good girls are in bed at this hour, Ms. Barnaby."
"Sit down and have your breakfast."
Patrick grinned, squeezed Ms. Barnaby's hand, and sat at her tiny dining table
in front of a huge plate of bacon, eggs, sausage, toast, a muffin, and a huge
glass of milk. "Who did you cook for before I moved in? There's enough
food here to feed three of me."
Ms. Barnaby put butter and jam on the table. "Shut up and eat."
Patrick shut up and bit into his eggs.