C'est la Vie (Raja Williams Series) (13 page)

“Beautiful as an angel,
ch
é
rie
. But always the devil, as well. I heard of your predicament, and came to get you out. I told the officer it was a misunderstanding, and that you worked for me as a waitress.”

Vinny knew right then there were police on Bruno’s payroll. It was the only way he could have found out about her arrest so fast. She had what she came for, so she played along. “Yes, a terrible mistake. It was kind of you to come help me.” Vinny knew kindness was not a characteristic that described Bruno, and hoped her cover was not blown.

The policeman opened the cell and Bruno took Vinny firmly by the arm. “Come along,” said Bruno squeezing harder than he had to. “Do you need me to sign any paperwork?” he asked.

“No, I’ll take care of it,” said the policeman, and just like that Bruno and Vinny walked out of the station.

Vinny was still not sure if her cover was blown, but played it cool, waiting to see what Bruno would do next.

“As you can see,
ch
é
rie
, I do take care of my girls. But, you do not want to try to work the streets of Paris alone. It can be a very dangerous place. The next time won’t go as well, I promise you. Do you understand?”

“Yes. You’ve made your point.”

“Good. Then you can find your way back to the club. I have other business and you have made me late.” He squeezed her arm again for good measure, then let go and walked away.

Relieved to be free of Bruno, Vinny began walking to the Metro, but after enduring several honks and cat-whistles, decided she would take a cab. No sense stirring up the natives.

Chapter Eighteen: Sexual Healing

While Vinny was busy on her escapade into and out of police custody, Raja went back to see Corinne as he had promised. During their first night together Raja had been especially gentle. In fact, although they had made love, he had held her quietly in his arms much of the night. Her recent abuses at the hands of Bruno were fresh wounds that needed healing. He knew she was making progress when he knocked and this time Corinne greeted him without weapon in hand.

Raja held out a single white rose.

“Raja, it’s beautiful.” Corinne kissed him on the cheek and took his arm, walking him into the dining room. There she had set out a romantic dinner for the two of them.

“I take it we are staying in tonight,” said Raja.

“Yes, if you don’t mind.” She smiled coyly.

Of course, Raja didn’t. He was infatuated with her vulnerable charm.

“I thought we could get to know each other better,” said Corinne, pulling him over to the sofa in the living room. “We can sit and talk while the duck is cooking.”

“Duck?”

“Yes,
Canard à l’Orange. It
is a recipe my mother taught me. I hope you will like it.” If Corinne made it, there was zero chance Raja wouldn’t like it.
 

“Smells wonderful. What do you want to talk about?” he asked.

“I want to explain about my situation with Bruno.”

“Corinne, that is not necessary.”

“I know.” Corinne looked at the floor.

Raja realized that it would help her to talk about it. “Yes, I guess I have been curious. Please tell me.”

“Well, when I met him, I really thought he was a different person. A decent person. When I first came to the cabaret, he seemed so helpful. When he offered me a chance to dance, that dream of mine was finally happening. I guess I fell for him.” Corinne’s eyes stayed on the floor. Raja could see the shame on her face.

“That’s understandable,” he said. “Go on.”

“Things went downhill pretty fast.” Corinne stared out into space and then shivered compulsively. “He is a brutal man. I tried to break it off, but Bruno is not one who takes no for an answer. That’s why I was so frightened when you came to my flat the first time.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He forced himself—” Corinne began to choke up. “He raped me.” The tears flowed freely.
“I’m so sorry.”
 

Raja held her hand and let her cry on his shoulder for a long time. Finally he said gently, “We better get a towel.”

Corinne laughed, nervously at first, then she cried a bit more and finally had a full blown belly laugh. “I don’t know why I’m laughing. It just seems so funny now.”

“Look what you’ve done to my shirt,” said Raja, pointing to a large wet spot.

That made Corinne laugh harder, and she laughed until the whole subject seemed unimportant. “I better check on the duck. It might be ready.” She went to the kitchen.

“It certainly smells ready to eat,” said Raja.

Nothing more was said about Bruno. Over a romantic dinner they talked about trivial details from their lives, as lovers sometimes do.

“Before I was born, my mother had been expecting a girl,” said Raja. “The island doctor was a hoodoo man who was supposed to know such things. My mother called me Regina during the entire pregnancy. When I popped out and surprised her, she was casting around for a name. She suggested the obvious, Reginald, as the male version of Regina, but my father had an uncle by that name whom he absolutely hated. He looked up at an old bottle of molasses sitting on the shelf. It was a keepsake from the family company. The label read Rajah Molasses
—
Fit for a King. And so I had my name.”

“I’m really glad you were not a girl.”

“Yes, it worked out well.” He smiled.

Corinne talked about growing up in the Rhone Alps region of France close to the Swiss border and how she dreamed of coming to Paris and becoming a dancer. “I must have watched
An American in Paris
a hundred times. I so wanted to be Leslie Carron and dance with Gene Kelly.”

“I can’t compete with that. On the dance floor, my feet have a mind of their own. And they are not inclined to talk to each other.”

That night they made love again and Raja remained as gentle as he had been the night before. But, this time Corinne was aggressive and free in her lovemaking. Her eyes had a fire that burnt away the sadness that had been there the night before. By the time they fell asleep, the morning light was already peeking into the bedroom window.

Chapter Nineteen: No Means No

Vinny spent the day going through the files she had copied from the police station. Although there was definitely evidence of small time corruption in the police department, there was one file that talked about major arms and drug dealing, both indicating that there had to be corruption higher up in government circles. Someone had tried to delete all copies of that file. Vinny only found it because a copy had ended up in the accounting backup by mistake. That’s the problem when an organization has to investigate its own corruption. Like a snake trying to eat its own tail, it doesn’t go down very easily.

Another detail that came out of Vinny’s new research was the repeated mention of someone called
the
Scorpion. No other name, just the Scorpion. He was supposed to be some kind of major international crime figure, but one who had never been specifically identified. From what Vinny could gather, most of the investigation reports had concluded that the Scorpion was a rumor, merely an urban legend. Vinny wondered what Raja would have to say about that. She couldn’t wait to tell him. That is, if she could pull him away from his new girlfriend. Raja was so predictable when it came to women. Too bad he couldn’t see it himself. Another phone call to him got Vinny nothing but his voice mail.

Later Vinny went to see Yvette on the third floor. There was still the matter of Inspector Gilliard, and his connection with this whole mess. Maybe he was this mysterious Scorpion. That would be rich. A police inspector. More likely it was someone like Bruno. When she stopped outside Yvette’s room, Vinny heard the sound of crying coming from inside. When she knocked, Yvette opened the door. Yvette looked scared, but she wasn’t the one crying.

“What’s going on?” asked Vinny.

“Come on in,” said Yvette, looking up and down the hall to make sure no one else was there. Sitting on the bed was a girl who looked young, maybe sixteen years old. Her eyes were swollen and there were marks and bruises on her arms and legs.

Vinny’s mothering instinct kicked in. “What the hell happened to her,” she asked.

Yvette did not answer immediately.

“Yvette?” said Vinny.

“There is something you don’t know about that’s been going on at the club,” began Yvette.

“No shit, Sherlock,” said Vinny. “Dish.”

“You have seen the rich Arab men who frequent the club.”

“Yes.”

“Well, in certain Middle Eastern cultures young white women are considered highly desirable. Historically, there has been a strong demand in some countries for women of European stock to be procured as wives.”

“Are we talking about harems?”

“In some cases, yes.”

“This girl can’t be more than fifteen or sixteen years old.”

“That’s plenty old in many cultures. Too old in some.”

“Gross. Are you kidding me right now?”

“I wish I were. Some of the youngest girls who show up at the club are offered and sold as wives or consorts to wealthy foreign men.”

“That’s just slavery. That is illegal.”

“Not everywhere. And remember, money can buy a lot of privacy. Some of the girls even go willingly with the promise of a good life.”

“Some good life, being someone’s sex slave. That is just so wrong.”

The girl on the bed burst into tears.

“What is your name?” asked Vinny, sitting down and putting her arm around the girl.

“Maggie,” the girl managed to say between sobs.

“Don’t worry, Maggie, it’s going to be all right.” Vinny could see the girl was almost in shock. “Lie down and rest for a bit.”

Maggie rolled over compliantly. When Vinny got up, Maggie said, “Please don’t leave.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. We’ll be right in the next room. Get some rest.”

The girl laid her head on the pillow.

Vinny took Yvette out to the small front sitting room. “Even being sold into slavery doesn’t explain the bruises. What happened to her, Yvette?”

“Some of the Arab men insist on sleeping with the girls first to ensure they are virgins. Maggie refused.”

“And the bastard beat her?”

“No. He simply rejected her and told Bruno what had happened. Bruno is the one who hurt her for embarrassing him to a client. He raped her as well and told her to get out. He is the bastard. I found her in the hall crying and brought her into my room. She is probably lucky he didn’t kill her.”

“Bruno is not going to be as lucky with me,” said Vinny.

“Please don’t make any trouble,” said the girl who now stood in the doorway.

“Don’t worry, Maggie. Your troubles are officially over,” said Vinny. “We need to get you a place to stay away from here. I know just the place. Yvette, will you let me borrow your car?”

Yvette handed her the keys.

“When I get back we are going to talk,” said Vinny. Vinny helped Maggie clean herself up and then drove her to Raja’s flat.

“You can stay here for the time being. It is completely safe. Do you have family in Paris?”

“No, my parents live in Dijon.”

“What are their names?”

“Please don’t call them. They will be furious.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t. You are going to have to do that. I want to check if they have filed a report with the police. Names?”

“Benjamin and Codette Sarron.”

“Okay then. There is food in the fridge. Help yourself to anything you need. Here’s my number if you need it. And when you feel ready, you should call your family. I promise they won’t be mad.”

“Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, but no sweat. I’ll be back.”

“Please don’t go.” Maggie was panicking.

“I have to work.”

“Couldn’t you call in sick or something? I’m too scared to be alone. Please.” Vinny knew what that felt like. She called in to the bartender at the Cabaret d’Artois, and had him relay to the head waitress that she was too sick to work.

“Bam shizzaam. I’m in for the night.”

“Thank you, so much.”

Vinny set Maggie up in her room. It didn’t take long for Maggie to fall asleep. Vinny went out to the living room and called Yvette.

“Maggie is too freaked out for me to leave her alone tonight ... Yes, I already called in sick. Okay if I keep the car until tomorrow? ... Thanks.” Vinny didn’t know when yet, or exactly how, but she knew there would be retribution for Bruno. Crimes like his do not go unpunished forever. She would see to that herself, if necessary. And enjoy it. First, she had to find out more about the human trafficking operation. There might be more Maggies when there should not be any.

Chapter Twenty: Single White Females

Raja had stayed at Corinne’s until mid the next morning. When he got back to the flat, Vinny and he sat down to compare notes and plan their next moves. There was still no discussion of Raja’s now flowering romance with Corinne, other than the most cursory comments. Vinny brought up what she found on the mysterious Scorpion.

“Besides being mentioned in the French police files, I found more on the Scorpion at Interpol. He even has a file in the CIA. For years, there were rumors that one man controlled several major crime activities that ran through Paris but touched many parts of the world. No one knew for sure who he was, or even whether he was a Frenchman. When spoken of, he was called simply the Scorpion. He got the name because, like scorpions who are photophobic and hunt primarily at night, the Scorpion had not been seen or photographed by anyone. Certainly no one has seen him and lived to tell. Additionally, any competitors who came along to challenge him had a habit of turning up dead with no clues as to who killed them.”

“Sounds like a fitting name.”

“The police have no specifics on his identity, not even a nationality. After years of trying, most police organizations have decided, at least officially, that the Scorpion is nothing more than a bogeyman conjured up somewhere along the way by some small time hood to frighten his rivals.”

“How far back is he mentioned?”