The Immorality Clause (11 page)

“You’re no bother at all. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, thank you.”

“Alright. Goodbye, Zach.”

“Bye,” I said into the air as the phone disconnected. “Andi, resume playback.”

Kelly stepped inside the shower and the water began to pour on her head. Her eyelashes served the same purpose as a human’s, protecting her eyes and the view was mostly unobstructed by the water.

“Initiate cleaning protocol,”the technicia
n
ordered.

The camera became blurred. I assumed she was absorbing more of the water to clean out the subdermal reservoirs. Her toenails retracted and what looked like shit water came out and washed down the drain.
Must be from Chuck’s special treatment
, I mused. Finally, the toenails slid back into place.

The water trickled to a stop and thick globs of soap fell from above. Kelly washed her hair and then scrubbed her body clean, finally allowing me a glimpse of her body.
No wonder Chuck liked her
. When she was complete, the water turned on again and she rinsed herself clean. Then Kelly stepped out of the shower to take a towel off the hook.

The screen went black and a message appeared in yellow letters, “End of video submission for the investigation into the death of Wolfe, Charles R.”

I leaned back and looked at my notes. With the exception of details about the droid itself, the sex act seemed cut and dry, in and out—no pun intended. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

I was saved by the ringing of the phone. The caller identification said it was Paxton Himura. “That’s weird,” I said aloud. I’d talked to her a few minutes ago.

I answered the phone, “Hello?”

“Zach?” She seemed stressed.

“Yes?”

“Someone tried to break into my apartment right after I got off the phone with you. I need help.”

“Hold on. I’ll be right there,” I said, already moving toward the closet for my clothes.

“Thank you,” she replied and hung up.

“The rental car should be here in nineteen minutes, Zach.”

I shoved my legs through a pair of slacks and slipped my feet into an older, out of style pair of loafers since my Oxfords were waterlogged.

“What am I gonna do with the other eighteen?” I asked.

SEVEN: SUNDAY

The drive over to Venetian Isles took longer than I remembered. I tried to will the rental to drive faster, but the damn thing had a government-mandated speed regulator which forced it to go exactly the speed limit. I’d have to talk to the rental company about getting it disabled. As a cop, I needed the ability to get places fast. Since I’d lost the Jeep in the line of duty, I could borrow a black and white from the department, but that was the last thing I wanted.

The car itself was nice. My insurance company had sprung for a full-sized premium class car, a new BMW T-99, all leather interior, state of the art navigation system, platinum-accented accessories. It was top of the line, but I preferred the rugged look of my old Jeep; otherwise, I might have enjoyed cruising around in style. Before she died, my mother used to say that I had no class. I guess she was right.

The BMW dropped me off under the overhang for the Regal Apartments. Even the vehicle had more sense than I did; I’d told the Jeep to take the first available parking spot when I came by yesterday. I blew past the front desk manager and had the bellman run me up to the twenty-second floor.

I pounded on Paxton’s door and examined the outside while I waited. The metal doorjamb was bent near the handle and the paint scraped away on the door. I knelt and looked at the brass knob. There were obvious scratches in the metal around the keyhole. Those could have been from a clumsy B&E attempt or from years of tenants missing the hole with their key. If they’d tried jimmying the lock, they were unsuccessful and that’s why they’d resorted to the crowbar in the doorjamb technique—crude, but usually effective.

A small monitor at chest height emitted Paxton’s voice, “Who is it? I’m calling security again if you don’t show yourself.”

I stood up so she could see it was me. “Sorry, I was checking out the damage to your door.”

“Oh, Zach! Hold on.”

Three different locks disengaged; one at both the top and bottom and one in the center.
No wonder the perp hadn’t been able to break in with a crowbar
. She opened the door and threw her arms around me.

“I was so scared,” she cried into my chest. “They wouldn’t go away. Security couldn’t catch them.”

I wrapped my arms around her awkwardly and felt a familiar hard object on her hip, under her shirt. “Do you have a permit for that?”

She leaned back away from me. “Of course. I follow the law to the letter, Detective. Without laws, and good men like you to enforce them, we’d have chaos. The Lord knows New Orleans is only a few steps away from that path.”

“
Heh
,” I grunted in agreement. “Do you know how to use it properly?”

It was a dumb question and I felt like some stupid Neanderthal the moment it left my lips. “I go to the range once a month. I’m shooting expert by the club’s marksmanship standards up to one hundred and twenty feet, but it drops off considerably after that.”

Damn, that’s better than what I shoot. I’m only an expert out to ninety feet. “
Well, I’m here now, so you don’t need it.”

She smiled up at me. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather keep it with me.”

I shrugged, “It’s your choice and as long as you’re properly trained and licensed, I don’t mind.”

She invited me in and closed the door. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t have anyone else to call.”

“It’s okay. I had a few more questions to ask you after viewing the video from Kelly this morning anyways.”

Paxton indicated the sofa. “Okay, ask away.”

There was a small suitcase on the floor and a large duffle bag on top of it. “Going somewhere?” I asked, pointing at the luggage.

“I can’t stay here,” she replied. “Not if someone is trying to break in.”

“Where are you gonna go?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a hotel,” Paxton said.

“How long do you plan on doing that?”

“Until you catch this guy.”

“That’s going to be ridiculously expensive.”

She nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah. I can afford to stay for a little while and then, if this keeps going on, I have another option.” Paxton shuddered.

“What is it?”

“Thomas Ladeaux, the guy who owns the Diva, has told me on more than one occasion that I’d always have a place to stay with him. But I doubt his offer is purely humanitarian in nature.”

“I know the guy. You’re right; he’s hardly the philanthropic type.”

“Yeah, well that’s my only option.”

“You don’t have any girlfriends you could stay with?”

Paxton shook her head. “I had lots of friends growing up, but they all seemed to fade away after I started working at the Diva. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t one of the call girls; to them, everyone who works there is a whore. I can’t stay with my technicians, most of them are married and the ones who aren’t are downright creepy, so I wouldn’t trust them.”

“You trust them more than Tommy Voodoo though, right?

“If I had to rate them on a linear scale, then sure, but it’d be pretty close.”

My stomach rumbled audibly. “Sorry, I haven’t eaten yet and there was a…an
issue
last night.”

Her eyes fell to her lap. “Oh, your girlfriend?”

I laughed at her statement. “I wish. Most women can’t keep up with the hours that I put in at work. Besides the overnight calls, I also have to do most of my interviews during the day when the rest of society is awake.”

“I know how you feel,” she mumbled insecurely as she fiddled with the trim on a pillow.

“So… I was gonna say, I could take you to lunch and then to your hotel. I need to ask a few questions that came up during the video review, but nothing that we can’t discuss in public. Besides, the Pharaoh is about as friendly to cops as you could get.”

“The Pharaoh’s Tomb?”

“Yeah, you heard of it?” I asked in surprise. Most locals avoided the place since it was so over the top with the Egyptian theme and usually crowded with tourists. Amir liked to treat police officers to free food, so cops loved going there and it also helped to keep the local pickpockets and two-bit criminals away from his restaurant.

“Yeah. I’ve eaten there once or twice. They have good shawarmas if I remember right.”

I made an exaggerated gesture of placing my hand over my chest. “Be still my heart, a woman who likes shawarma?”

She smiled at my theatrics. Whether it was in genuine amusement or in pity, I wasn’t sure. I’d take either. “Okay, are you ready to go, then?” I asked, standing.

“I, uh… You move fast.”

I held up my hands. “No, no. I’m sorry, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. Just lunch and a ride to your hotel.”

She stood and placed a hand on my bicep. “I wouldn’t mind,” she said, rubbing my arm slightly through my temporary rain jacket. “Can you help me with my bags?”

Paxton was impressed by the BMW. She went on and on about it for most of the trip from her apartment to the Pharaoh. I knew it was a nice car; apparently it was much nicer than I realized though.
Way to go, Andi
.

The car pulled into the parking lot and a twinge of uncertainty hit me. The Pharaoh’s Tomb was my go-to dining spot because Amir owned the joint. He’d inherited the place from his father. I didn’t go on a lot of dates—not that this was a date—but I was sure that the Pharaoh wasn’t the type of place to go on one.

The Egyptian-themed restaurant was borderline gaudy. Gold accents, statues and greenery seemed to be everywhere. All of the servers wore the same sleeveless white tops and knee-length white skirts, trimmed with gold and turquoise beads. The women wore straight black wigs and a lot of them even used heavy black makeup around their eyes. The only things missing from the Egyptian theme
inside
the building were mosquitoes and crocodiles.

Amir Khalil and I had been friends since junior high school when he was a skinny immigrant, directly from Egypt, who spoke better English than anyone else I knew. We became friends when three thugs were beating him up in the hallway and I jumped in to stop it. That was my first fight—and my first ass whooping.

The kids shifted their focus from Amir, who’d chosen not to fight back against the three of them, to me. Apparently picking on a kid who just stood there taking it wasn’t as fun as punching someone like me who was too stupid to back down. They blackened both my eyes, broke my nose, knocked out my two front teeth and even cracked a couple of ribs.

The police arrested the thugs, charging them with hate crimes against an immigrant student and battery of a minor. Even though I got the worst of the damage, Amir’s status as an immigrant was the charge with the heftier potential sentence. Overwhelming video evidence and their own smug demeanor in court ensured that the three of them went to juvie until they turned eighteen. I’ve checked up on them over the years, one of them is in federal prison for murder; the other two are dead—New Orleans eats her own.

My misgivings about the appropriateness of the restaurant aside, they did have the best lunch food in town that didn’t involve crawfish or shrimp. I jogged around to the BMW’s other side to open the door for Paxton, but she’d already climbed out by the time I got there. She hooked her small hand through my arm and we walked past the palace “guards” holding the door open for us.

“Hi, Zach. Uh… Do you want your usual table?” Karina, the hostess asked when I walked in.

“Sure.”

She hesitated for a moment and then said, “You know, I bet you and your friend would like to sit in Mike’s section today. He’s a really great server with an awesome attitude and knows the menu forward and back to help guide you through the selections.”

I leaned in to look around the hostess station and saw that my usual table was empty, like Amir tried to keep it at lunchtime if they weren’t packed. “No, I think I’d just like to go to my usual table, please.”

“Okay, Zach. You know the way.” She indicated the direction of the table and handed me two menus. As we walked past, I heard Karina whisper something about Teagan into her headset.

Paxton laughed, “You really do come here a lot.”

I shrugged, “What can I say? Human beings tend to be creatures of habit.”

When we got to the booth, I indicated which side Paxton should sit on and waited until she’d done so before I sat down, facing the door. I didn’t like having my back to doors.

While my guest looked around at the Pharaoh’s décor, I found Teagan. Her back was to me as she helped another customer, but after a little over three years of seeing her four or five times a week, I’d recognize her anywhere. She wore the black wig today. She didn’t wear it half the time, so I knew her true hair color to be a dirty blonde that she usually wore straightened. Her skin was the color of coffee with two creamers, a little darker than Paxton’s and the Egyptian slave uniform hung off her muscular shoulders, cascading down over her narrow body, with only a slight bump out at the chest to indicate her small breasts.

“This place hasn’t changed at all since I was here last.”

I snorted. “This place hasn’t changed in fifteen years. When Amir inherited it from his father, he took the life insurance money and bought all of this stuff. It used to have a subdued Egyptian style, but Amir knew that to make the place a true tourist attraction, he had to add the statues and change the plants, fix up the menu and get the servers wearing themed costumes.” I pointed toward Teagan. “It worked. This place is now on the ‘must see’ lists for visitors to New Orleans, for both the food and for the kitsch factor.”

“It’s neat—not my style, but still cool to see.”

“To be honest, I hardly recognize the stuff anymore.”

“How often do you come here?” Paxton asked, tucking a strand of blue hair behind her ear. I’d seen her make that same, unconscious gesture on several occasions.

“Don’t laugh.”

She placed her hand over her heart. “Promise.”

“At least four times a week. It’s comfortable, I know the people and it’s away from Easytown, so I can separate myself physically from the problems of work.”

Paxton reached across the table and gripped my hand. “Do you have a problem letting go mentally?”

Teagan chose that moment to turn around and take our order. “Hi, welcome to the Phar… Oh! Zach, I didn’t realize it was you.” Her eyes shifted down to the table where Paxton held my hand.