Agent with a History (2 page)

“Hey, why do I get stuck with the paperwork
and you guys get to have all the fun?” Sal whined.

My eyebrows quirked up as I smiled
imperially, “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Sal? I don’t bend
that way and Rafferty is a family man.”

Sal’s face reddened slightly, but he
muttered, “You know what I meant.”

“And I know that I need an objective partner
and not just an interested onlooker.” I reproved firmly, and he
shuffled off quickly away from us.

My eyes met Rafferty’s, only to see a slight
reproof in them, “That was a little hard, don’t ya’ think?”

“Not at all. He gets on my nerves sometimes.”
I responded heatedly.

“ Pretty much everything’s been getting on
your nerves lately. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

I pushed past him instead, “Come on. You’re
starting to make me regret not taking Sal instead of you.”

“Ouch!” he said good naturedly as I brushed
past.

I winced inwardly. That had been mean of me
to say and it hadn’t been right how I had cut Sal, even if he had
deserved it. Neither man deserved my bad mood.

Rafferty and I were almost to my car when Sal
came running up waiving a paper. “You’ve got to see this!” He
thrust the paper into my hands and my eyes widened.

“Who?” I asked, looking up shocked.

“The homeless guy! Can you believe it?” Sal
exclaimed.

I couldn’t actually. I walked back into the
phony precinct to where the homeless man sat at a desk with the
sketch artist’s supplies laid out before him.

I flipped the paper around and asked, still
not quite believing it, “You drew this?”

He ducked his bearded head a little in
awkwardness and nodded before saying, “I used to be something of an
artist in another life.”

I flipped the paper back over and stared at
it for a moment before looking back up at the homeless artist and
said. “I don’t know how life has let you down to be as you are now,
but I don’t think the world of art is done with you, should you
wish to try it again. Thank you for this!”

His cheeks flushed a little red above his
scraggly beard and he husked out a low, “Thank you”.

I looked down at the picture he had drawn.
The silhouette of a sleek black sedan formed the background that
outlined the tall striding figure of the man in the foreground. He
was a white male, deep tan and well over 6’ in height. He was
dressed in a suit and was in the process of an easy stride forward
that bespoke of a man confidently within his element. His eyes were
shielded by a pair of dark aviator glasses of a simple classic
design. His shoulders were broad and in general, if the picture was
accurate, he was a big man. As impressive as his powerful athletic
build was, what was most captivating about the man were the
intangibles that seemed to leap off the page at me.

I got several quick impressions. First was
that this was a dangerous man. He had the poise that bespoke
experience and a perceived intelligence that said he was quick on
his feet to adapt to a new situation.

He was, in a word, perhaps the most
intimidating man I had ever seen, other than my father. Where had
he gotten such a poised bearing? Military? CIA or something like it
or was he closer to a soldier of fortune type? It was hard to say.
He appeared to be a little of all of them and something else more
ancient. If I had to say a word that encapsulated him as well as
the picture seemed to, it was: warrior.

I looked up at the homeless artist, “Earlier,
when my fellow detectives questioned you they said that you didn’t
remember most of the people. Why do you have such a vivid memory of
this man?”

He shrugged. “The others were like pigeons,
seen one you’ve seen them all, but him, he had a real presence. You
don’t see many people like that, not anymore.” He looked up at me
speculatively and then added, “You have a strong presence too. Mind
if I do a sketch?” He asked, as he reached for the sketch pad in
front of him.

I felt my face flush slightly at his offer
and I quickly said, “No, no, I have to be going. Perhaps some other
time, but I do appreciate the offer. Now, we are going to keep you
in custody for a little while. It’s for your own protection. This
case has gotten a lot bigger and I’m not quite sure what or who is
involved yet and as you are our only witness you could be in a lot
of danger.”

He held up a hand. “Can I get some food and
keep this sketch pad?”

“Absolutely!”

I turned to Sal, “On it boss.”

He turned to go, but I reached out and
grasped him by the forearm quickly, “I’m sorry for what I said
earlier.”

He shrugged and a smile flashed out at me,
“I’ve got thick skin don’t worry about it. I’ll get that research
for ya and see if anything comes up on this guy in any of the data
bases.”

“Thanks.” I said as I continued on to the car
with Rafferty.

The doorman looked like he was about to
object to my front-on approach so I flashed him my badge and he did
a double take of me. I was used to it. For whatever reason, no one
ever seemed to place me as being a cop.

I had a friend tell me once that I looked
like I should have been some wealthy millionaire’s mistress instead
of wasting myself on the life of being a cop. Needless to say, we
hadn’t kept close since then. I had few enough friends without
losing another, but I seriously didn’t need one who thought my
higher calling in life should be as someone’s mistress.

I walked into the oh, so familiar atmosphere
of the strip club. Talk about déjà vu, only this time the place was
populated.

I winced slightly as my headache took it up a
notch in time with the loud music and strobe lights. I really did
need to get some sleep. I made my way through the ranks of glazed
eyed men. The place was packed and I had to shove my way through
the pressed throng to make headway. Rafferty hurried to keep up
with me, and I slowed down some.

I was forever making the short Irish man
hurry to catch up with me. I couldn’t help it that my walk was
really more of a stride than a step. I was 5’11’’. Some said that I
was blessed with long legs, but cursed with a short amount of
patience for getting where I wanted to be, which right now was
backstage.

A guy’s hand off to my right flashed out to,
no doubt, smack my butt as I passed by, but I intercepted it with a
quick grasp by my own hand. I snapped it over and putting pressure
on his arm I had the satisfaction of watching his face turn white
with pain at my hold. Served him right, the boorish lout.

“Keep your hands to yourself next time.”I
spit out as I continued on through the crowd, not bothering to
glance back.

Rafferty stopped briefly beside the man, as
the man felt at his shoulder painfully. “You were lucky. You
should’ve seen what she did to the last guy who tried to do that.
I’m not entirely sure he could still father a child after what she
did.”

The man’s eyes widened markedly and he
quickly moved away, all protest at his mistreatment gone from him.
Rafferty smiled and continued on after Lisa. He’d known her ever
since she had come from the academy. She had a nose for finding out
the truth and had quickly risen to the top, but she had poor
understanding of social graces and could be downright insensitive
at times. She was pretty level-headed most of the time, but
sometimes something seemed to boil over inside her and render her
to such an uncontrolled state that he swore she went looking for a
fight.

She’d been like this for over two weeks now
and he felt worn thin from putting out her fires, or at least
trying too. Goodness knew there wasn’t anything he would be able to
do if she went ballistic on someone.

Lisa Tauranto was singularly blessed in life.
Born of an Italian mother and a East African Negro father, she had
what every woman envied, both in form and flawless skin. She didn’t
even wear makeup or do anything with her long black curly hair, an
attribute from her Italian mother. She was strong and could have
easily had a career as a professional athlete.

There may have been men stronger than her on
the force, but they still probably didn’t stand much of a chance
against her. She had mastered at least half a dozen fighting styles
and seemed to do nothing but work out in her time off.

She wasn’t a workaholic by nature, but
something drove her so hard that she could have passed for one.
Whatever it was he hoped it would stop, because he could see that
she was starting to wear thin emotionally. She’d even lost a little
weight he thought. He was worried for her. He hoped something good
would break out in her life soon to slow her down, because the way
she was going through it, it didn’t seem that enjoyment of her life
was even a concept she recognized.

Lisa was about to bust her way through the
backstage door when a tall weasel of a man stepped in front of her.
“Is there something I can help you with honeylicious?” He asked,
giving Lisa an openly appreciative look as he eyed her up and
down.

I wasn’t in a good mood and the piece of
walking human garbage in front of me was wearing out what little
patience I had left.

“Step aside!”

“Whoa! Whoa! No way miss! I own this joint!
To go backstage and view the lovely ladies is a paying venture
only.” He finished with.

My fist tightened at my side, but I flipped
up my badge instead. He read it and his face creased into a
lopsided smile. I wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t high on
something.

“Lisa Candace Tauranto, NYPD detective. Woo
we! That sure is a mouthful, but without a warrant you’re not
getting past that door. But hey, I’ll tell ya what I’ll do. If
you’d like to make some extra money with that hot bod of yours I’d
be willing to let you strut around my stages and peel off a few
layers, if you know what I mean. You’ll get all the access to the
dressing rooms and the girls that you want then.”

His look of confident egotism skipped a beat,
when I abruptly took him by the throat and slammed him back against
the door, as my other fist drew back to smash his ugly stained
teeth inward.

“Candace!” Rafferty’s voice broke
through.

My little watch dog always used my middle
name when things got out of control, and things had certainly
gotten out of control.

I let out a big sigh and relaxed my drawn
back fist. The beady eyes of the weasel I held reflected the
inherent cowardice that lay within his outwardly braggadocios
demeanor. I brought both hands to his shirt at his throat and
pulled him closer to my face. “Step aside, and stay out of my
business, or so help me I’ll arrest you for resisting an officer
and make sure you get thrown into a private holding cell with a
seven foot tall Russian thug, who’d rather peel the clothes off of
you than any girl you have in this place.” I finished in a sibilant
whisper, as I watched the full impact my words were having on
him.

He nodded and stammered, as he tried to blurt
something out. Disgusted, I shoved him to the side and pushed my
way through the door to the backstage area.

The girls were in various stages of undress,
as they were scattered out in front of the mirrors. They came to an
awareness of us quickly and turned to see what we wanted. Rafferty
turned a little pink and shifted slightly to stare at the wall, as
most of the dancers were topless. I held up my badge.

“All right, I have a feeling you all know why
I’m here, but if there’s any doubt, I’ll explain. The warehouse
down by the east pier, what do you know about it and what happened
there?”

Most of the girls nervously glanced among
themselves. I knew I had found my prey so I went in for the
kill.

“Failing to answer my question could land you
all as accessories to a murder investigation I’m working on.”

They were all talking at the same time, which
didn’t help my headache any.

I held up a hand, “All right, one at a time!
Starting with you.” I finished, pointing at a topless brunette.

She blabbered out words at the speed of
light. “We were offered a large sum of money if we showed up at the
set and did the same thing we do here. That’s all we did, I
swear!”

The rest of the girls either nodded their
heads vigorously or echoed her statement. I held up a photo of
Ahmed Sazzar

“Have any of you seen this man?”

Down to the last one they nodded no. Puzzled
I asked, “Exactly what did happen?”

The brunette looked around and then spoke.
“We got into costume and got to our positions and started doing our
thing. The place was just like this one. A bunch of men came in
from another room and acted like the men do here, but they weren’t
for real, it was like they were acting or something. They brought
Philippe in. He was unconscious and they sat him down at a table. I
saw a man inject him with something. A little while later Philippe
came awake and started enjoying himself, as usual, as he watched
us.”

“Wait! Wait! You knew the man they brought in
unconscious?” I asked.

“Yeah sure, his name is Philippe Valo. He’s a
pretty regular customer of ours. He’s gone for a couple of months
at a time and then he’s back almost every night until he leaves
again. The girls like him. He’s not real mean like a lot of them
can be when they’ve had a few, and he’s always got money.”

“All right back to what happened.” I said
directing her back on course.

“Well nothing happened for a while, until
this big serious dude came in. He gave me the heebie geebies, in a
good way, if you know what I mean.” She added with a nervous laugh
that gritted on my nerves. Most of the other girls had responded in
kind to the mention of the ‘serious dude’.

I sighed heavily; it was like dealing with a
class of two year olds. Yelling wouldn’t do any good. “Then what
happened?” I continued.