The Immorality Clause (7 page)

“Okay, I’ve only got a few more background questions I need to ask.”

“Go ahead,” she stated.

“You’ve mentioned that the owner promoted you and that they finally purchased the upgraded model. Who owns The Digital Diva?”

“Thomas Ladeaux. He owns our club and a few others in Easytown.”

I knew it. The corporation that was listed in the database was a front. Tommy Voodoo always seemed to pop up when anything rotten happened in Easytown. Problem was we could never pin anything on the guy. In addition to clubs, he also owned the Marie Leveau Shipping Company and a construction company.

“Do you happen to know what other clubs?” I asked. Andi could easily look it up in the public database for me, but I wasn’t talking to her right now.

“Let me think. He owns the Show ‘n Tail and Art’s Performing Center.”

“Those both feature pleasure droids, right?”

“Yes, but they still run the CS90, maybe even the CS86 over at Show ‘n Tail—that place makes my skin crawl. He also owns The Stud Farm, a homosexual-oriented club—”

“Yeah, I know about The Stud Farm; that’s one of the places where we’ve had another murder.”

Miss Himura shrugged so I continued, “It’s just interesting that two of Ladeaux’s clubs have now been the scene of a murder.” I put Ladeaux on my list of people to talk to on Monday, Tuesday at the latest.

“He also owns Megasonic.”

“The thumper club on Jubilee Lane close to the highway?” I asked to verify.

“Yeah, same one. There are a couple of smaller bars along The Lane, and he owns ViewDoo’s.”

ViewDoo’s was the magic-themed strip club that greeted motorists immediately after they exited Chef Menteur Highway going into Easytown. Yet another classy business establishment. Ladeaux was a busy man.

“Oh,” she said. “He also owns The Cigar Box.”

“In the French Quarter?”

“Yeah, it’s the first club he’s opened that isn’t in Easytown.”

Damn
. I’d attended several work functions at The Cigar Box. I wondered if anyone in the department knew that the biggest non-convicted criminal in the city owned it.

“You don’t have any idea who committed these murders, do you?” she asked.

I stared blankly at her until she felt the urge to continue. “With fifteen pleasure clubs along The Lane—most lined up next to each other—it’s a small community. We talk.”

“The only thing I can say is that the murders are under investigation. Thanks for the info on Mr. Ladeaux.” I paused to ascertain her level of anxiety about the murder. She seemed fine, so I went ahead with my planned line of questioning. “Okay, Paxton. I need to ask you about the event. Are you prepared to talk about it?”

She hugged the pillow a little tighter. “Yeah, that’s why you’re here, right?”

“Were you present at The Digital Diva the entire time that Charles Wolfe was with Kelly?”

“Yes.”

“Did you leave the lobby to go to the restroom or take out trash, maybe to get dinner?”

Paxton thought about it for a moment. “No. I’m taking classes at Xavier to complete my Masters, so I was reading the whole time.”

“Good school.”

“Yes, it is,” she mumbled.

“Did anyone besides the clients who were in the locked rooms after the incident come into the club or leave during that time?”

“Yes, of course. We have people coming in and going out all night long. I have twenty-nine girls and twenty-four rooms. There’s usually a wait in the lobby.”

“Are the extra pleasure droids to keep them entertained?”

“Well, for that reason—and some of our clients like to buy two or three girls at a time. We like to keep all the rooms filled.”

I grunted again. “Sergeant Drake reviewed the hallway footage and says nobody came into Wolfe’s room or left until Kelly went to get sanitized—and no one entered again until you discovered the body. He’s having our tech experts compare the footage between the hallway cameras and Kelly’s eye camera.”

“Okay. Do you think they’re going to find anything?”

“No idea. He said that the two seem to be consistent, but
something
happened in that room between the time the two of them went inside and when you found the body. Can you go over your timeline for me again, please?”

She reiterated what she’d told me at the club earlier. Wolfe entered the Diva around eleven—I’d need to check the timestamp on the footage to be sure—and that he was in the lobby for about ten or fifteen minutes waiting on Kelly. During that time, he purchased the Amplify and talked to Carly, the same droid that was in the lobby when I came in last night. Kelly returned from sanitation and took him through the secured door to the hallway beyond. Then it was another three hours before the flood sensors went off and Paxton left her desk to check on the damage. When she saw the body, she immediately locked down the facility and called the police.

“I believe that’s all the questions I had for now,’ I said, looking over my notes to see if I’d forgotten anything. “Do you have any questions of me?”

“What’s next?”

“From here, we’ll continue to analyze the video evidence and cross-check the statements of the other patrons at the club… But, to be honest with you, there’s not a lot of evidence in the case. Something clearly happened in that room in between the time the pleasure droid left and when you discovered the body. He sure as hell didn’t do that to himself. There aren’t any windows in the room. All the walls are solid—”

Paxton looked at me strangely.

“I checked the walls for hidden tunnels,” I explained. “It’s standard practice down in Easytown for murders and robberies.”

She nodded. “You just said he didn’t do it to himself. How do you know? I mean, this whole thing is odd—
is
there a possibility that he did it?”

I hadn’t told her about the missing organs. “No, there is definitive proof that he didn’t do this to himself, but I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you.”

“Uh… Okay. Should I be worried that the murderer will come after me since I’m a witness?”

“No. There’s no reason to think that. As of right now, the killer has an almost perfect crime on their hands. I don’t think they’d risk getting caught coming after you—especially since you didn’t see anything and I think they know that.”

I pulled an old-fashioned paper business card from my pocket and handed it to her. “Here’s my contact information. I’m confident that you’re perfectly safe, but if you need anything or if you remember any additional information, don’t hesitate to call me.”

She looked at the card and then placed it on the table. “That’s it, then?”

I stood. “Yeah, I believe so. Like I said, I’ve asked everything that I planned to ask.”

“Let me walk you out.” she said as she unfolded herself from the couch.

When we got to the door, I had to crouch and tie my shoe, giving me a glimpse of Paxton’s manicured toes, which, of course, matched her blue hair and fingernails.

“I mean it, Paxton,” I said when I completed tying the broken Oxford. “If you feel unsafe, call me. I can have a black and white here in a few minutes.”

She placed a hand on my elbow. “Thank you, Zach. I appreciate it.”

“Alright. I’ll be in touch, ma’am.”

I waited in the hallway until Paxton shut her door and I heard her lock it behind me.

Wouldn’t you know it, I had to push the elevator’s down button myself.

FIVE: SATURDAY

Andi downloaded the address for Wolfe’s hobby shop into the Jeep’s computer and I set the truck’s speed at a responsible fifteen miles an hour over the posted limit. Normally, the city maintained a strict policy to stop anyone traveling more than six miles an hour faster, but I flipped on the unmarked police vehicle transponder to send out a signal to the watchful patrol cars that I was on official business. Sometimes being a cop had its advantages.

The trip to Leonidas took forty minutes in the Saturday afternoon traffic, so I tried to catch a catnap on the way, but it didn’t work. I couldn’t shut down my mind long enough to fall asleep. How were these murders so different, yet so similar? The linear order of them and the complete lack of usable evidence certainly made me believe that they were related. Given what I’d seen so far, if it was the same killer, the murders were getting worse. What could possibly be more brutal than ripping someone’s organs out while they were still alive?

Unfortunately, after twelve years on the force and ten of those in homicide, my mind could imagine some horrendous ways to die.

“This is it, boss,” Andi’s voice interrupted my dark thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“The Jeep arrived at Mr. Wolfe’s hobby shop three minutes ago, Zach. I checked the heart rate sensors and you didn’t appear to be sleeping.”

“Checked the— Dammit, Andi, I was just thinking. I’m okay, leave me alone.”

Andi’s AI program had grown exponentially over the years, but there were times when she didn’t understand human expressions, and that they often had multiple meanings in English. Her silence told me that now was one of those times. “Andi, I didn’t mean for you to stop communicating with me. I meant…” I thought how to explain it to a computer. “I meant that I’m fine and you don’t need to keep checking up on me.”

“On the contrary, Zach. You are an overworked and overstressed thirty-four year old male who drinks more bourbon than the daily recommended usage. You get an average of four hours and twenty-four minutes sleep at night, while you should get a minimum of six. The toilet’s urine monitor told me that you are in the beginning stages of kidney damage, and—”

“Goddammit, Andi. How many times have I told you to stop talking to the apartment’s toilet?”

She paused. “One thousand, four hundred and nineteen. However, the city mandates that the toilet records are maintained—”

“Add another one to the list,” I grumbled. “Stop talking to the toilet. It ain’t gonna give you any good news about me.”

Andi’s voice softened, soothing like the tone she used nearer to bedtime. “Zach, you haven’t been to the doctor in five years and three months. You should get a physical. And, you need a companion in your life besides me.”

“Oh geez. This day has been long enough already. Why are you doing this now?”

“During a period when you were less bellicose toward your personal well-being, you tweaked my programming to give you subtle hints and offer a helping hand to guide you toward what medical research recommends for a heterosexual adult male. I’ve scoured hundreds of journals, articles and books; they all recommend a physical companion, Zach. As far as I know, the last time you had sex was eighteen months, twelve days, three hours and nine minutes ago. I think it’s time for you to find a companion.”

I groaned. Having the exact, to the minute detail of how long it’d been since I had sex was depressing. “I’m in a bit of a dry spell. I don’t exactly get the opportunity to meet nice young women that I would consider having a relationship with.”

“There are thousands of women looking for a mate on local dating sites,” she offered. “I could prescreen the profiles for you and provide you with a list of several women, ranked in descending order of preference.”

“No. Thank you…” She had a point. It
had
been quite a while. “Look, Andi. I appreciate it, but I’m sitting outside Wolfe’s shop.”

“Understood. Time to get to work. I’ll pre-authorize your credit chip for the dating site so I can begin developing your profile.”

“No! Andi, I don’t need you to help me… Hold on,” I saw movement inside the building. “Someone’s still in the shop. I’d have thought they would be closed.”

“Wolfe’s World of Gaming and Miniature Figures closes at 8 p.m. on Saturday evenings.”

“Not what I meant, Andi. I’m surprised that anyone is there, given the fact that the owner just died.”

“Co-owner. Technically, his wife is now the sole proprietor of the business.”

“Sometimes I need you to go with the flow, Andi,” I sighed.

“That’s the third sigh this conversation, Zach. Are you sure you don’t want me to screen the list of local available women? The release of semen—”

“Alright, we’re done,” I said, cutting her off. I opened the Jeep’s door and stepped out into the pissing rain. The door was almost closed when an odd thought occurred to me and I stuck my head back inside.

“Andi?”

“Yes, Zach?”

“Can you give me a basic, non-evasive rundown on Paxton Himura?”

“Paxton Himura, the witness from the murder last night?”

I swear, if an AI program could legitimately show surprise, I think Andi would have been the first to do so.

“Yeah, that’s the one. She seems like a genuinely nice girl. She’s smart and going to school for self-improvement.”

“…Okay, boss. This request seems a little unusual.”

“Does it? She’s not a suspect and she’s given me all the information that I’ll be able to get from her. Plus, I’ve already got a rapport with her,” I said, warming to the idea. Besides Teagan and Amir’s wife, Amanda, I didn’t talk with women conversationally very often. I welcomed the opportunity to get to know someone I’d already broken through that awkward initial conversation point with.

“Who knows, maybe she’ll like Egyptian food…” I shut the door before Andi could protest further.

When I stepped inside Wolfe’s World of Gaming and Miniature Figures, it was as if I’d entered an alien world. Freestanding shelving units that held thousands of tiny, unpainted metallic figurines and large bins containing parts for model trains and airplanes covered seemingly every square inch of the customer area. Even more shelves adorned the walls. Older style board games that I remembered from when I was a kid were stacked across them haphazardly.

The lingering smell of paint and mineral spirits told me that the shop doubled as a workspace as well. The lighting in the store wasn’t as bright as I’d have preferred, but it seemed to fit the mood and theme of the hobby shop well. Somewhere toward the back of the store, I heard the soft clacking sound of what I imagined to be a toy train circling a track. Just barely audible above the noise was the soft cry of a woman.

I followed a walkway formed by shelving units to the counter. As I neared the back of the store, glass-encased cabinets came into view. These held painted figurines and an assortment of expensive-looking handheld electronic games. I gave them a wide berth; my luck with electronic products was downright shitty and I couldn’t afford to break an entire display case of them.

No one was at the counter, so I tapped the plunger on an old chrome bell. A sharp, metallic
ping
rewarded my efforts and after a few heartbeats, the beaded curtain leading to the stockroom separated.

An older Hispanic woman appeared. She had dark circles under red-rimmed eyes. Maybe thirty years and forty pounds ago, she might have even been attractive. Given her current state, I thought I’d found the shop’s co-owner. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“Mrs. Wolfe?” I inquired tentatively.

“No. My daughter, she is Mrs. Wolfe,” the woman replied in heavily accented English. “But she got bad news today. You leave your number. She call you in a few days.”

I wanted to comply, to give the widow her space, but this case was strange enough as it was. I didn’t know if the wife was somehow involved, so I needed to talk to her in order to rule her out or add her to my list. I slipped my hand into my duster and pulled out my badge. “I’m Detective Zachary Forrest from the NOPD. I need to speak to your daughter. Only for a few minutes.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “
Sí
, I’ll get her.” She turned and fled into the back room.

I heard hushed Spanish voices drifting through the curtain and they parted once more. I wasn’t prepared for the person who appeared through the beads.

The woman was only in her mid-twenties, possibly early thirties, thin through the waist, but curvy up top and down below. She was pretty, with dark skin, wavy black hair and she wore a light green t-shirt with the name of the hobby shop and a phone number. The resemblance between the older woman and her daughter was evident. “Yes, Detective? Have you found my husband’s murderer?”

While not as heavily accented as her mother, Mrs. Wolfe’s voice did nothing to hide her heritage. “No, but we’re looking.” Then, to be sure, I asked, “Are you Jacqueline Wolfe?”

“Yes.”

“Ma’am, I know this is hard for you. Do you have a few minutes to talk to me about your husband?”

“
Aye, cabrón
,” she muttered. “What do you want?”

I let the fact that she called me a bastard slide. “I need to talk to you about the whereabouts of your husband last night.”

Mrs. Wolfe began crying. “He was with his whore. That
puta
robot he liked so much. I told him that no good would come of it. He said that it wasn’t cheating since it was with a sex bot.”

I blanched. “You
knew
about his ah…visitation?”

“Of course, I knew. Letting him go to the club was the only way I could keep him from finding a mistress. He went every two or three weeks, no matter what I did for him, it wasn’t enough.”

“Ah… Your husband had a history of dating outside of your marriage?” I asked incredulously. Charles Wolfe was grotesquely obese. How could he find women and I couldn’t find one? Maybe he had a great personality compared to my generally shitty and skeptical outlook on things.

“Yes.” She pointed toward the parking lot. “You might not understand with your fancy car, nice suit and police department morals, but if a man has money in New Orleans, they can get hundreds of women, no matter what they look like.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to upset you with that question.”

She wiped away a few tears. “I thought letting him put his little
pito
into a robot was the best choice. He’d get to fill his perversions and another woman wouldn’t come looking to wreck his home life. I never expected the
pendejo
to fall in love with the thing.
Estúpido
.”

What was Chuck doing fucking a robot when he had a beautiful woman like his wife at home?
I asked myself.
She certainly claims to be willing to satisfy his desires.

“Do you know if he visited more than one club or did he always go to the same one?”

“The credit chip statements say he only went to the one, the Digital Dickhouse or something stupid like that.”

“He didn’t…try to keep it a secret from you that he went to those types of places?”

She laughed bitterly. “No. He was comfortable telling me all about it and I let him go to keep him. I even tried to copy the things that the robot did, but I wasn’t enough for him.”

She was jealous of the robot.
Motive?
“Mrs. Wolfe, I hate to ask you this, but I have to.”

“I was here, in the shop last night,” she said before I asked. “We host a weekly tabletop gaming session on Friday nights. Last night, we ended about 4 a.m.”

“And Charles didn’t attend those gaming sessions?”

“He always attended. But his character was…” She stopped and took a deep breath. “His character was killed early in the evening. So he went to go see that thing.”

I thought through her statement. “You said he went to The Digital Diva every two or three weeks. Was it normally on a Friday night?”

She shrugged. “Whenever the urge hit him, he’d go. I can’t remember him missing a gaming session though.”

“So, he didn’t usually go on Fridays?”

Mrs. Wolfe shook her head. “I think it was mostly during the week, after our children go to sleep.”