Quintic (58 page)

They
di
dn’t talk much on the way over.
Charles’s driving left room for improvement, but sensing the young
detective was somewhat nervous, she made no suggestions.

“
You look
kind of bummed-out, Charles. Is everything OK? Would you like
someone to talk to? You know I’m a good listener.”

“
I’m
a bit worried about the job.”
The job
.
Charles was shy but not stupid; he knew this was his chance with
the team. “I don’t think I’m measuring up. Like Ham says. Too darn
green.”
Darn
?

She
encouraged
without mothering, offered
friendly and attentive support without being flirty and smothering.
As she listened to Charles, she came to realise just how fed up of
Lemieux she was. Angry mad. And scared.

“How can I help?”

“
Simply
listening to me rambled on and on helps, Patricia. The shrink says
venting’s good.”

The shrink
was
a mandatory monthly activity for the
team, but no one really talked to the good doctor, well, except
Charles apparently.

While Charles droned
on about the team, the case, Hamilton, his dream of being a
homicide detective in the big city, she had a silent conversation
with the rookie in her head.

“
I’m sure I can
do more. Let me see. What you need is a big break on your case.
Christopher and Hamilton like results. You give them something; you
stay on the team.”
And I won’t have to
think about it anymore
. The
it
included both Lemieux and the bastard
she had seen. “
So what lead do you need? The killer,
obviously, but maybe that’s a bit much for us. Something regarding
the victims? How about that guy Lemieux was seen fighting with? How
hard can that be?
”

So what if Hamilton
and Charles had asked around and came up empty. Men in those places
all looked in the same direction, centre stage (or in Charles’s
case, the walls). She was going to survey the clientele.
“
We’ll need to go back to the clubs around the same time
the fight happened
.”

Based on what Lemieux
had told her back in the days, strip club patrons didn’t move
around during an evening. They sat and drank and stared, often
staying put entire nights. When such
services
were offered, if one had money to
invest
, one might buy a lap dance. Not
right away, though. Most men waited until later in the evening.
Lemieux didn’t go for lap dances, not in the clubs at least; he
hired the dancers for more complete workouts at the end of the
night. According to the stripper, the guy they were looking for was
not a lap dance enthusiast. Might be he was too cheap even for
strip clubs.

“
Did the stripper say your mystery
fighter was a regular? In any case, him knowing Lemieux points to
it. Except with Jo− Hum. Ah. From what you guys found out, the
victim didn’t have any friends. Hence, the possibility of Lemieux
and the fighter’s relationship turning from bromance to archenemies
is negligible
.” Non-existant. Impossible. A
heresy.

“
Chances are they met at some clubs,
maybe fought over a woman.
” Although she had
trouble imagining Lemieux fighting over a woman as he had once
fought for her. Was it jealousy? “
So what do you think,
Charles? Worth a try?
” A good plan? Heck no.
Moving on with the plan.

“
I’m not sure we−
” The Charles in her head tried to cut in while the Charles
in the car droned on about Hamilton’s lack of class.

“
All we have to do is sit and
watch
.” Like her book character, they would
do surveillance of the potential crime scenes, the scenes being in
this instance the strip clubs where the fighter could show up.
Potentially, all of the city’s strip clubs. Impossible odds indeed.
It had taken her character three years for ten diners. But then
again, her fictional woman had to wait for rain; she and imaginary
Charles didn’t. If she timed it right, she could cover six or seven
clubs per evening. Go in, sit, look around, wait for a little and
move on. “
How hard can it be?
” She
mused again.

“
Patricia, remember last
time
.”

“
Last time, we went unprepared.
You’re more at ease now. And you need to do something. Think of the
team!
” She didn’t wait for either of the
Charles’s approval. “
I’ll borrow a car.
” A car and an identity. Male or female?

Clearly, she couldn’t
go as a woman, not if she wanted to go unnoticed. Yet, going as a
guy was risky if a fight broke out. Unless she borrowed a
car
and
a bodyguard? Hum.
Christopher was out of the question; no way was she going to tell
him.
Ever
.

If I’m so sure the plan will work,
why not tell him?
Hum. Moving on with the
plan
.

Hamilton wouldn’t go
for it. Besides, the idea was to help Charles. If Hamilton came
along, part of the credit might go to him. Not helpful. None of the
others would go for it either, she was pretty sure of it, except
for Frankke maybe. Although, if she asked him, and he didn’t like
her proposal, he would tell Christopher. She couldn’t risk that.
Reid was out as per her gender; she was tough enough, but her
breasts would be difficult to hide.

Solo with Charles
then. After all, she was doing the plan for him, was she not? Hum.
Charles was green, but he was far from dumb. The only time they had
gone to a stripper club together had been a disaster; he would
never agree to take her to another club. Unless...

She
studied
him as he vented his
frustrations. He looked like a damn cop. He’d need a change of
haircut, clothes, shoes. Maybe if he grew a beard, or, at least, a
light five o’clock shadow? First things first. Could she convince
him of the plan?

“
Charles, I
need a favour. I need your help with something.” She
blushe
d. Lying did not make her blush;
thinking of going to strip clubs did. Charles blushed in
return.

“
I, ah, I’d
appreciate
if, well. Please don’t tell
Christopher about this, but I’m in a bit of a jam.” Indeed, she
was. Christopher was going to be so mad if he found out. The words
‘
Crazy
idea
’
flashed in her mind.
Jane did it, hence, so can I
. “I
need to meet with someone, but I can’t go alone and well, I can’t
ask Christopher, it’s a surprise for him.” Damn right it was a
surprise. Big surprise.

Charles was listening
intently.

“
I need
someone I can trust
, so, naturally, I
thought of you.” She bit her lower lip and went for the kill. “Of
course, I’d understand if you don’t want to, or if you can’t. I
really shouldn’t ask you; you have enough trouble with the job and
the team and your case and, well, everything.” She lowered her eyes
and sighed. Damn, she was good. Why couldn’t Christopher be that
naïve and easy? Of course then, he wouldn’t be who he was. But he’d
still be damn sexy, though.

“
You don’t
have to explain
, Patricia. Anything I can
do to help, I’ll do it.”

Do what, he
didn’t know yet, for no way was she going to tell him before they
were parked in the club’s parking lot. “Thank you. You’re so kind!
You don’t have plans for Sunday evening, do you? I’ll pick you up
around seven, OK?”

For their
first night, she planned to drive. Hence, she would borrow
Christopher’s truck; the Big guy wouldn’t mind, not if she told him
Ingrid had booked a meeting with some out-of-the-country publisher.
Technically true
-ish
, but the publisher was only
due to arrive in three weeks.

“
Perhaps
you
can take a break from shaving this
weekend, Charles sweetie?” She had a hard time keeping a straight
face for that request. How could she convince him without divulging
the plan? “Think of it as an undercover assignment. Detectives do
plenty of those you know.” Hopefully, the new clothes would be
enough to hide Charles’s rookie
ness
.

Her
idea
ended up keeping her busy all
weekend. She shopped for men’s clothing, for both Charles and her,
low key and cheap-looking to blend right in amongst the unsavoury
club crowd. She printed a list of all the city’s strip clubs and
sorted them by boroughs. Then, she drew up routes to said clubs,
optimised by districts.

She intended
to kick
off the plan on Sunday with
visits, first, to the club where the fight had taken place; the
three where Hamilton and Charles had received
maybe
s would follow.
If they had time, they’d go to the place Lemieux had taken her and
the other two that were close by, and back again to the first
one.

Seven on the
first night, with two-three stop
s at
each. Seven out of a potential forty-seven. If all went well, they
would cover an eighth of the city’s strip joints per night. She was
damn relieved her guess of over a hundred clubs had been
overestimated; not that forty-seven wasn’t still too much. Where
the heck did the sleazebag owners find all their
strippers?

The plan’s
flaw? The fighter dude could be in any of the other thirty-nine or
one of her first eighths while she was in another. The chap could
be at home enjoying a tranquil evening with the wife. The fellow
could be a drunk who had nothing to do with Lemieux’s death. Was it
statistically worth it? Only one way to find out.

She made a
deal with herself to try the clubs at least once.
If they toured every night, she was going to
waste seven to eight days of her life on the plan. A reasonable
time investment if it saved Charles’s job with the team. She would
take note of all the wavy brunettes they came across, a repertoire
of sort. Could she afford to hire them all a bodyguard for a while?
How much did a bodyguard cost nowadays? Maybe she should ask the
A-team, Christopher’s buddies, for references; after all,
MacCarmick and Lonzo were in the muscle trade.

Did she know
her plan didn’t make any sense? Deep down, yes, she did, but she
was not about to admit it. Just to be safe, she avoided being alone
with Christopher. That should have told her something. Bad
idea.

It
should have told
him
something. The
bad
est
of bad ideas.

She’s Not Scared
Anymore

A
s intended, she avoided
Christopher all weekend. She dodged him on Monday also. She and
Charles had returned from the plan’s first night at
three-twenty-five. With the team meeting at ten, she barely slept
four hours and, needless to say, wasn’t at the top of her form.
Thankfully, she didn’t look as tired as she felt, but she would try
to squeeze in a nap before they went out again tonight.

That
morning, s
he drove Christopher’s truck to
the station and handed him the keys back. Unfortunately, she
couldn’t burrow Christopher’s vehicle another evening without
eliciting if not suspicion, at least curiosity. Christopher was not
a patient man when curious. Hence, Charles would be driving his car
the next nights. Unless she could convince him to let her
drive?

She made it
to the meeting just in time. Charles had not shaved all
weekend and looked, nor mean or ruggedly sexy
but just plain beaten and unkept. His haircut, her creation, did
not improve his look. He smelled clean, though. Probably he too had
showered for over half an hour; that damn club stink was
nauseating.

Charles had
reluctantly embraced the plan
. Although
they had not seen the Lemieux’s opponent, since they had not
stumbled into trouble, all in all, they had had a profitable first
night (at least regarding Charles’s stripper observation skills).
They planned to go again tonight. And the nights after that if need
be.

They did
seven on Monday and eight on Tuesday. By Wednesday afternoon,
sitting in front of her computer, she had trouble keeping her eyes
open. She hadn’t worked at Vitto’s yet that week. Not good. She
hadn’t written a single line. Not good.

She had told
Christopher
, “I’m working very hard these
days. I can’t make it tonight,” at the end of each day. She had not
told him she had been writing, had she? Hence not a lie since
indeed, she was working intensively. Yes, she knew damn well he had
assumed she was slaving on her book.
Never make assumptions, Big guy
.

It was a
case of ‘what he doesn’t know can’t hurt (or anger) him’
with a touch of ‘what he doesn’t know can’t have
me arrest’. Preventive incarceration the infuriating man had called
it once or twice.

Tonight,
Charles and she might be able to do nine; in that area, the clubs
clustered together. That would leave them with sixteen to explore
between Thursday and Friday. Unless they got lucky. Even if the
dude never showed up, the plan was already worth their time.
Charles now managed to speak to her while watching the dance floor;
his face barely flamed red at that. She couldn’t ascertain at what
he was looking exactly, though. The woman’s face perhaps? An
improvement nonetheless since at times, the stripper’s face hung
between her legs.