Exposed by Rage (2 page)

VixSin. Jillie’s club stood apart from the other
businesses on the street, its parking lot holding only a few cars.  It looked dismal in the daylight, but the lights after dark would entice the customers to enter.  Inside was dark and cool.  A girl half-heartedly slid up and around the pole to the beat of some old new age tune.  The small tables lined the stage, scattered among the chairs were regulars.  I worked hard to keep away from these places, and when I was younger, begged Jillie to leave the business.  But she was stubborn and made it clear this business was superior to the one she had been in when she was in her teens and twenties.

Butch carried beer to the bar from the back room, while Kitty wiped out glasses in preparation for the bachelor party goers and other voyeurs who would descend when the sun set.  The bar gleamed and the light glinted off the brass fixtures.  Jillie demanded the club be clean and you would be surprised when you walked in to discover the simple décor could be soothing, if that’s what you wanted.  Most didn’t. 

When Butch and Kitty didn’t see me, a new bouncer I hadn’t met, with more muscles than brains, leered at me and strutted forward from the shadows.  Apparently he thought I was a stripper looking for work. 

I sidestepped him as he reached for my arm.  “Where’s Kevin?”

“He’s busy.  You need something you talk to me.”  This time he grabbed at my shoulder but I spun away. 

“Kevin.”

“He ain’t hiring.”

.I should have slapped him for being a jerk.  “Go get him, Tell him Ashley needs to see him.”

He hung undecided for a full thirty seconds, then shrugged and walked toward the office.  Almost as soon as he was out of sight, Kevin came through the door, a broad smile on his face.  I hated myself for what I was about to do.

“Ashley.” He held out his arms, and gave me a hug, but looked over my shoulder for the other woman he expected to see, the question obvious on his face when I didn’t immediately explain. 

“Kevin, it’s Jillie.  She’s…” I took a deep breath.

He refused to sit down when I suggested it and was becoming agitated.  I could see him reading the bad news like a flashing neon sign. 

“Someone killed her, Kev.”

The emotional tsunami of fear sped across his features--the disbelief, the denial, the anger.  Kevin, a six foot six package of brains, pure muscle and love for the woman we had both lost, picked up the table between us, smashed it into the wall, dropped his face in his hands, and cried like a baby.  A few of the customers jumped at the sudden violence, the rest just watch us for a moment before turning away. 

“Ash, you have to be wrong.  She left here after closing night before last, worried about groceries for your visit.  She was going to drag you along when we went out tonight with Buster and Randi.”

Randi was the housemother, watching over the girls, making sure the customers kept their distance.  Buster, ten years her junior, claimed she was the love of his life.  He was bartender, guard, and escort to the girls when they had to walk to their cars after they finished their shows.

“Kev...” 

“I bought a ring…  I was gonna ask her…  We were talkin’…”

“I’m so sorry.”  I walked to him, guiding him into a chair then lowered myself to eye level, and slipped my arms around his shoulders.  I had told families about their loved ones, seen them shatter, plead with me to tell them it was a horrible joke.  Telling Kevin about Jillie was like ripping a piece of my heart from my chest.

“Who...would do...this... to her?”  His voice hitched as he spoke. 

“I don’t know but I’m going to find out.  The police will want to talk to you soon.  You need to be careful how you talk to them.  They’re going to decide you killed her and you can’t take that personal.”

“You’re a cop.  They can talk to you. You can tell them what I said.  Shit, they won’t believe me and they won’t really care anyway.”

“I’m not local, Kevin.  Most of them won’t trust me when they know about Trixie. They’ll find out who killed Jillie.”

“No, they won’t.  They’ll talk about her like she’s some kind of vermin.  Like she was something unholy.”

“It doesn’t matter.”  If they don’t find the bastard, I will, I thought.  “You just make sure you do all you can to help.  If you have any dirty secrets, don’t hold back on them. They’ll find out and work harder to try to pin her death on you.”

A flicker of guilt flew across his face. 

“Kev, I need to know it all and so will the police.  If you have something else to say, you should do it now.”

Boneless, he slid from the chair and sank to his knees.  “I love her, Ashley. That’s all anyone needs to know.” 

The music had stopped and the girl disappeared soundlessly from the stage.  No one bothered to start a new song or come out for another set.  The customers who had been watching Kevin’s outburst lowered their eyes, studying their glasses or table tops.  An avalanche of pain rolled through the sparsely populated room at Kevin’s release of unrestrained tears.

There was nothing else I could do for Kevin.  I wanted to be the one to break the news and I had done the job.  I knew Braden and DeMarco would come at him like dueling bulldozers.  At least Kevin would be over the initial shock by then.  He would be their main suspect and I knew he was hiding something.  Whatever it was would cause all of us trouble but he wasn’t the killer.  I’d seen what that bastard had done to her.  Kevin would never have been able to carve her up that way.

* * * *

There was a convention of some kind going on at the hotel.  Dozens of women scurried like rats in business dresses, offering to sell part of the advertising world’s promise of youth to every woman they encountered.  When a gaggle of them squeezed into the elevator I planned to take, I decided on a private table at the hotel café.  I didn’t have much appetite but I didn’t need the sales pitch.  I didn’t really want to sit and stare at four walls just yet, nor did I want to face talking to Trixie.  The pain of losing Jillie was too raw. The contempt I felt for Trixie Dix, my loving mother, too close to the surface. 

Tossing my notebook on the table, I began to jot down notes.  What I had observed, what disturbed me about the scene, I had to log everything Kevin told me before I lost the conversation or twisted it.  Old habits are hard to break. I might even make old Cravens proud of me if he was alive to see the investigator he’d created.

Jillie had been tortured, something I hadn’t shared with Kevin.  The pervert had carved on her like a hickory stick.  A series of X’s were carved into her breast. He’d taken his time as he burned her face and broke her fingers.  The fine wire that finished her, left at the scene, wrapped around her neck.  I suspected the autopsy would show she had been aware of what was happening.

Had he known no one would interfere with his work, or had he just not cared?  The window was open.  Jillie should have fought and screamed her throat raw. Had he drugged her?  There had been a puncture wound in her neck. A needle? How else could he be sure no one was in the pool house or anywhere on the property to hear her?  Had she let him in?  I hadn’t found any signs of forced entry as I’d waited for Plano’s finest to show.   The questions spun through my head.  No answers surfaced.

The waitress came over with a pot of coffee.  The bill she laid down said it was time to leave.  I don’t take hints very well.  Looking around I could see there were youth sellers standing, waiting for a table.  I wasn’t ready to give mine up.

I read through my notes, hoping something would make sense.  Why had Jillie suddenly asked me to come see her?  What was it that was upsetting her enough to insist I come here? It would have been easy enough for her to come to Fort Polk.   Louisiana wasn’t that far and she knew I hated coming back to Plano. 

She’d called and sounded off...more insistent than usual, but nothing to make me think she was afraid.  It wasn’t unusual for her to call.  It wasn’t unusual for her to ask me to come, knowing I normally wouldn’t.  This time was different.  She’d sent me a key to the house.  In all the years of friendship, I had never had one before. 

“So do I call you Ms. Gibson, D...officer, or…”  DeMarco slid into the booth opposite me. 

Closing my notebook, I waited for him to explain what he was doing here. The waiting wasn’t hard on my eyes.   I looked DeMarco over, approving his wide shoulders, narrow hips and the ripple of muscles that couldn’t be contained by the suit jacket. Too bad he was with the police. We could have danced dirty and had a few laughs.

A rugged face capped with thick sable brown hair housed dark rich pools of the ocean at midnight.  Staring at me.  Waiting for me to break the silence.

“Did you learn anything from Miss Favor’s...friend?” 

As I said, I don’t respond to well to the wishes of others.  I had spent two years working up to MP and after that I continued doing what I was told, following orders, working from someone else’s book of rules.  Jillie’s death meant I wouldn’t be signing up for another tour; in fact I would resign to make sure the bastard that murdered her was caught.  

The silence became tedious.  A quick nod was all the conversation I was prepared to give.  A crooked smile spread across his lips. 

I slid the notebook into my purse and started to stand. I’d eaten what I could.  The elevator waiting area was free of business attired humanoids. I had a nice bed waiting for me after a long hot shower to wash off the day.  I couldn’t hide a tight smile when he gave up the silent treatment.

“You win.  I don’t appreciate you talking to my suspects and setting them up so they know what questions I’m going to ask.”

“I didn’t talk to your suspect.  I talked to my friend.”

“Your friend I should have questioned first.”

“So shall we play ring around the Rosie?  I can’t believe you came here to tell me you’re outraged.  A quick phone call would have sufficed.”

The sound he made could have been a growl, I wasn’t certain.

“I’m not getting a lot of cooperation from Ms. Favor’s friends.  They seem to think I’m the enemy.”

“You are.  I bet you can count on an amputee’s fingers the times you or your buddies have rushed to assist any of them.”

“This isn’t about them.  It’s about your friend who was murdered.”

“Yeah.  I know.”

“So, are you going to give me a hard time?  Thought you’d be willing to help.  You know them.  Are one of them.”

He really should have stopped before he uttered those last four words. 

“No.  I’m not.  I have things to do.”  I scribbled my name and room on the check, handed it to the startled waitress and walked away.

He was leaning against the wall when I finally opened the door to the hallway.  I knew he wouldn’t leave just because I was ignoring him.  I’d left him to rethink his attitude while I washed away the grime of the day.  

“Have a seat. I made coffee if you’d like some.”  I didn’t wait for him to answer just poured a cup and set it in front of him. 

“Not going to offer me cream and sugar?” DeMarco asked.  “Try to sweeten my mood?”

“Would it help?”

He shook his head and gave me a lopsided grin. 

“So, what do you want, DeMarco?  I told you everything I know about Jillie’s murder.  I told you about her friends, boyfriend, job.”

“All true.  However, you haven’t told me why you’re here.  Why you had a key.”

“We’re...we were friends.  I came to visit.”

“You said she called, wanted you here.  Why?” 

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing.”

“So she didn’t tell you what was wrong?”

“No, just made it clear she wanted me to come to town.”

“What about Kevin...”  He reached into his pocket for his notebook.

“Kevin Stephens.  Don’t let his size and looks fool you.  He loved her, worshipped her, really, and was going to ask her to marry him.”

“A bouncer at a titty bar, going to ask a porn star to marry him.”  The disdain dripped thickly from his words.

“See, that’s exactly why they won’t talk to you.  You think their jobs, former jobs, define who they are.”  My temper flared.  “Jillie didn’t do porn any longer and was running a legitimate business.”

“Strip club.  Legitimate.” 

I was sure he’d catch fire from the flames shooting from my eyes.

“Okay.  I didn’t mean...”

I cut him off.  “Intent has about as much value as counterfeit money.  It appears real but no matter what you do it’s still a fake.”

“Truce...”

“Look, I’m tired.  It’s been a hell of a day and I need to try to set things aside for a while.  I’d like you to leave.”

He nodded and walked to the door.  “Ms. Gibson.  Ashley.  I’m sorry your friend died.  I really want to find her killer.”

What he meant was he was willing to use me to get to the suspect pool.  Well, that street went both ways.  I could use him just as well.

* * * *

At zero five hundred I threw the covers off and gave up the idea of trying for more sleep.  What little sleep had come left me drained.  The pictures rolling behind closed eyes weren’t remnants of sweet dreams.  The sound of something slipping under my door drew my attention. I opened the door to see who had made the delivery.  The hallway was empty.

DeMarco’s note, scrawled across the face of the package, was short.  “Knew you would want these” Inside was a DVD, color prints, and black and white photos from Jillie’s.  I took several deep breaths before I began to lay them out on the floor.

The photo tech knew his craft.  He started outside the fence, circled the house as he carefully worked his way through to Jillie’s bedroom.  I had to give the cops credit, everything looked just as it did when I had followed the same path.  The Plano uniforms knew how to stay out and keep the scene intact.

The photos were crisp, clean shots of the house, the hallway, the bedroom, and Jillie.  No fancy angles, just straight simple photography.  The color shots were hard to look at so I turned my attention to the black and whites.  It was easier to see past the victim and look for clues left behind by the killer.  I was hoping I would spot something dramatic.  Jillie had an obsessive need for order.  When I could find nothing I wanted to drive my fist through the wall.

When the telephone on the table beside the bed rang, the clock showed I’d been immersed in the crime scene for over three hours.  I wasn’t surprised to find DeMarco on the other end of the conversation.

“I hope you got the photos.  I had Braden drop them off, thought you’d like that.”

“I’m sure he was thrilled and it explains why he didn’t stop to talk.”

“Have you had a chance to look at them?”

“For several hours.  Don’t see anything that points me in any direction.”

“A long shot to think they might, but worth a try.  So what’s your schedule today?”

“Why, you want to tag along?”  He’d told me he wanted my help but I hadn’t believed him.

“I’m sure there are people on your list I want to talk to.”

“Maybe, where do you want to start?”

“With Jillie’s partner.”

Not the one I really wanted to see first thing.  My mother was Jillie’s partner and to be honest I wouldn’t give a damn if I never saw her again.  “Trixie.  You really want me to go with you?”

“Yes, I think people will talk more openly if you’re there.”

“I doubt she will, but give me twenty minutes to get ready and I’ll meet you there.”

“No reason to take your car. I’m in the lobby,” he said and hung up.