Slipping Into Darkness Read online

“Could you let him know that I’d like to talk to him?” I paused. “It’s important.” I stopped Tyrone as he reached for his cell. “Before you call him, can you tell me who the bouncer is?”

  “Name’s Bone. He’s over by the door.”

  Other than on a few cases when I was a cop, I’d never frequented a strip joint. I guess it’s a man thing. I really don’t like how the women are being objectified as sex toys, but I try not to judge. Many people were doing what they had to do in this economy. I reflected on a recent newscast where women who used to be professionals in corporate America had turned to stripping to help take care of their families. I guess it wasn’t any different than housewives in Beverly Hills using the pole in their bedrooms to spice up their sex lives and hold on to their Hollywood executive husbands.

  The whole world was frozen in upside down mold. Houses were under water with upside down mortgages and people were drowning with upside down lives.

  Tyrone called G-Man and I watched him pick up his cell and answer. I stood waiting, since I assumed he would have to handle the business he had at hand. There were several more customers with him.

  I watched G-Man nod, saying it was okay for me to go over to him. “You can see him now.” He acted like he was some big-time CEO.

  From where I was sitting on the barstool, the first thing I sized up and didn’t like was how G-Man was acting like he was “the man” now. He was sitting in the VIP area, toking on an unlit cigar, and flossing his loud flashy platinum rings and chains. He had two girls sitting on both knees. He was a portly man with an enormous prognathous jaw, but he was carrying on like the late Biggie Smalls. Like his money and power made him the finest thing out there among the pretty young girls.

  I decided to find out all I could from him.

  The strippers on his lap looked like JB, jail bait, underage, and this really turned me off with him, but I had to think about my brother. He slapped the girls on their behinds, and they got up, sashaying off.

  “I’m Z, David’s–I mean, Big Homie aka Mayhem’s sister.”

  “Yeah, he told me about you. Use to be 5-0. Sure you not with them anymore?”

  “No, I’m not with LAPD anymore. I’d like to ask you a few questions. When was the last time you saw Big Homie?”

  I watched his eye flinch, just ever so slightly, in the corner, and I knew he was lying before he spoke, but I just registered this information in the back of my head. Suspicious behavior. “I saw him three days ago. Yeah, that’s right. He hasn’t been by here in about three days.”

  “Is that normal?”

  “Generally, he comes through on the weekend, checking on things. Picking up money. Overseeing payroll. I have some business to talk to him about.”

  “Have you heard from him?” I paused. I really didn’t expect him to tell the truth.

  “No. Why?”

  I thought about it. If G-Man was involved, if he’d sold Mayhem out, there was no sense in asking for his support. I would deal with him later. I didn’t answer. I flashed the picture on my cell phone. “Have you seen someone with a tattoo like this?”

  “There’re a lot like that. They’re part of a gang sign. Sort of like the medical sign. A snake wrapped around a pole.”

  “Do you know any of the patrons who might have one?”

  “Bonzo has one like that.”

  “Who is Bonzo?

  “He hangs around here and one of your brother’s massage parlors, Soft Touch. He comes through here a lot.”

  “Is he here tonight?”

  “I saw him earlier, but it’s crowded now, so I don’t see him.”

  “What does he look like?”

  “Mexican.” He stretched his hand out flat, perpendicular to his chest. “He’s about yay high. Wears a ponytail. Kind of medium height.”

  “How about the lead dancer? Can I talk to her?”

  “Oh, our bottom bitch?”

  I looked at him, throwing him some shade, and smirked. He got my drift that I didn’t care for him disrespecting women. I guess he saw my distaste for the word and he corrected himself. “Yes, that’s Chutney. That’s her performing now, but you can talk to her when she gets through.”

  The current dance was performed by a svelte woman on stage dressed in a gold and white sheer Cleopatra outfit. She wore a shoulder-length wig with bangs, accompanied by dark eye kohl. She did a slow strip tease down to a pearl belted chain and G-string. She gracefully danced her way around the stage, did a deep split and waltzed back up, until she pirouetted over to the pole. She spun around the pole, never missing a beat, and turned upside down.

  T.I.’s “I’m Flexing” was playing in the background. There was something different about this stripper. She moved sensuously and suggestively like a professional modern dancer. Probably just another girl who came to Hollywood with stardom in her eyes and wound up on the pole.

  “Can I talk to Chutney?”

  He nodded. When Chutney pranced over with grace in her tall stilettos, he introduced us.

  “You’re very talented,” I commented as she eased down into the chair next to me.

  Chutney was fanning her face to cool off. “I’ve danced in a few videos.” She flashed a fake modest, yet demure, smile. Her high cheekbones shone with pride.

  G-Man introduced me, and stepped away. “This Big Homie’s sister.”

  Chutney’s eyes lit up, just a tad bit too much. “Oh, my goodness! You’re his baby sister, Z.” She reached out and gave me a hug. “He always brags on you. Say you’s a bad bitch. I read the paper where you took down two dirty narcs by yourself. ”

  I ignored her remark. I didn’t like how women had embraced the word bitch, and I didn’t like how, when you stood up for yourself as a woman, you were called this name. “When did you see him last?”

  “It’s been a minute. I think he came through here last weekend.”

  “I need to ask you something personal.”

  Tears flooded her eyes. Right away, I could tell there was more to this relationship than business. She was definitely Mayhem’s woman. I could see it all in her eyes and it was written all over her face.

  “Was your relationship more than business?”

  She hesitated before she spoke. Her lips trembled, and she bit the bottom one and nodded. “We done broke up now though. That mulatto-looking heffa, Appolonia, found out and came down here and raised hell a few weeks ago. David cut me off”–she snapped her fingers–“just like that. I never thought he was that pussy whipped. Just because she one o’ his babies’ mamas and ’cause she raisin’ them other two kids, that don’t make her his wife. She just wifey.”

  I didn’t say anything. Now I was getting curious about this wifey, Appolonia.

  “You don’t understand. I love David. That gold-digging bitch don’t love him like I do.”

  Something inside told me Chutney didn’t know anything about my brother’s disappearance and I didn’t press the issue, either. So Mayhem had an outside woman, but I wasn’t that surprised. Drug dealers possessed rock star celebrity status in the ghetto.

  I finished the evening talking to the bouncer, Bone, but I couldn’t pick up any information from him. He was the muscle at the club, but he wasn’t too informative. I could see why they called him Bone, because he was truly a bonehead.

  I decided to try the massage parlor next.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I drove over to the massage parlor, not knowing what I would find. The first thing that surprised me was what looked like a crew of cameramen. They were pushing high-definition digital camera equipment and looked like the crews I would see on the streets whenever a Hollywood movie studio was shooting a film on location in L.A.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked a man standing nearby the door. He ignored me. Then I noticed a former police officer I used to work with named Officer Leonard Jackson. I gave him a knowing look. Jackson gave me a sheepish grin. I could tell the way he was dressed that he was not on a security job, but on a pornography
job. He was wearing suspenders with a pair of tight Speedo pants.

  “Hey, Jackson, is it?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here?” He answered a question with a question. He slid his hand over his bald head in a nervous gesture.

  “I’m here as part of an investigation.” I flashed my ID and I could see his eyes almost jet out his head, almost cartoon-like. “Who is the manager ?”

  He stammered when he spoke. “That’s Mr. Dickinson, but he’s not here at night.”

  “Well, who is the night supervisor?”

  “His name is Lester.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s down the hall.” He pointed down a corridor.

  “So are you working here?” I probed.

  “Sort of,” he mumbled.

  “You still with the department?”

  “Yes.” Then he thought of a way to try to back me off. He didn’t want me to know he was a porn star during his down time from the police department. “I heard what happened to your partner and what happened with you. I’m sorry to hear about it.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking about my getting fired or my getting shot in the line of duty. I studied him and realized he was referring to me being fired. The old me would have been too ashamed or embarrassed to talk about it. He wasn’t going to be able to back me down with that one. I was no longer ashamed.

  Not one to be deterred, I didn’t let it floor me. “Well, it’s all good. I’ve developed a second career from that tragedy, so not everything is a curse. I’m here tonight because of a case I’m working on.”

  He nodded.

  “So they shoot pornography here?” I shot from the hip. I pointed at the cameras, which went behind closed doors.

  Jackson didn’t answer. He just rushed into a back room and closed the door.

  I walked down the hallway and noticed most of the doors were closed where patrons were supposedly getting massages. I could smell incense and scented candles. Soft music played over the intercom.

  I tapped on a back door to Lester’s office.

  “Come in,” a voice called out.

  I opened the door into what looked like a typical corporate office. Lester was working on a computer. He swiveled around in his chair.

  “Hello, my name is Zipporah Saldano. I’m here regarding my brother, Mayhem–I mean, David. I understand he owns this place.”

  Lester, a slightly built man, jumped to his feet and held out his hand. “Yes, how may I help you?”

  “Have you seen my brother?”

  “No. I was looking for him earlier today. Generally he comes through on the weekend.”

  “When did you last talk to him?”

  “I talked to him Monday or Tuesday. We were going over the books. Why? Is everything all right?”

  “Yes. He’s fine.” I decided not to alarm him. I got the vibe that he didn’t have anything to do with Mayhem’s kidnapping and he didn’t know anything. “If you hear from him, have him contact me.”

  Lester gave me his business card, and I left.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After I left the massage parlor, I felt downhearted and discouraged. I really hadn’t learned anything there, other than it could easily be a modern brothel, a house of pornography, and it was scheduled to close at 2:00 A.M. I could tell how each room was closed that this was a private dance between the client and the female masseuses.

  I had to get out of L.A. and it was almost two in the morning. Time was running out. My plane was scheduled to leave in the early afternoon. Since 9/11, you had to be at LAX at least two hours early. And I still needed to go by the office and then get home and pack. Even though G-Man didn’t admit to knowing that my brother had been kidnapped, I felt he was hiding something. He was acting innocent, but inside, I felt he had motive to sell Mayhem out. I wouldn’t put anything past him, now that he was acting like Big Willie.

  As I was trying to get to my car, so I could drive to my office in Santa Monica and get home to pack, I thought I heard footsteps. I sensed someone was following me, but I wasn’t sure. I stopped walking. The sound stopped. I eased my piece out my slingshot and let it drop down to my side.

  Whenever I stopped walking, the sound would stop. I looked around me and for the first time noticed that the street was dark. The streetlight was at the far end of the street. Why had I parked so far away? I wondered. Then I remembered. I had parked down the street because the parking lot had been full when I arrived.

  I decided to pretend I was unaware of anyone following me. Step. Step. Step. Stop. I swallowed a lump in my throat. Once again the shushing sound stopped. A susurrus sound in the tree branches whooshed overhead. I could smell alcohol in the air. Whoever it was following me had been drinking.

  I clicked my car door opener, and that’s when my stalker attacked. Whoever he or she was jumped me and attacked from behind. Even though I thought I was prepared, my assailant still caught me by surprise. I dropped my gun in the tussle.

  Whoever it was seemed to be as tall as me because I was able to fling him off, and toss him over my shoulder. I did a long-legged kick from tae kwon do. I grabbed the person, who turned out to be a man, and cold cocked him in a barrage of punches. I picked up my gun and pulled it on him. In a swift move, I disarmed him of his gun. In the dark, I could tell it was a Latino guy.

  “Stop, stop!” He held up both hands in surrender and locked his body into a fetal position.

  “What do you want? Who sent you to kill me?” I demanded.

  “I wasn’t going to kill you. I was just supposed to shake you up. Scare you off.”

  “I’m going to ask one more time. Who sent you? Otherwise I’ll put this bullet right between your eyes.” I cocked my gun and held it between his eyes.

  “I’m one of Bonzo’s boys. He heard you been asking about him. He just wanted me to shake you up.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Jorge.” He pronounced it “Hor-hay.”

  “Where is my brother? Do you know who has Mayhem?” I balled up my fist and started to sock him again.

  “I swear on my mother’s grave, I know nothing.”

  I held my gun to his face and pressed it by his nose. “Tell Bonzo if anyone harms my brother, I’ll come after them. Now get!”

  I watched Jorge run off into the darkness without his gun. I let out a deep breath and tried to gather my composure. Feeling paranoid, I picked up Jorge’s gun, then climbed in my car.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Still feeling discombobulated, I drove off from the massage parlor aka house of prostitution. For all of its front, it was still a brothel. I could still smell the candles and the incense used as aromatherapy. I could tell more was going on than massages, but that wasn’t my concern. My concern was the attack on me. Obviously, someone was following me. Who had already gotten on to the fact I was out seeking answers?

  After this surprise attack, I almost changed my mind about going to my Santa Monica office. I reprimanded myself as I drove. “You’re in enemy territory.”

  “Be careful,” I whispered out loud to myself. I didn’t flip on the radio because I wanted to be alert to any more attacks. I was behind enemy lines and the next time I’d have to disguise myself better. Just to be on the safe side, I kept my gun on the seat. I wiped my prints off Jorge’s gun and dropped it down a drain near Venice. Maybe it wasn’t worth it to do any more snooping. I needed to get ready to get out of town and do what I need to do without further mishap. I decided to go to the office, but I had to tie up loose ends. For one, I had to cancel the contract with the missing starlet Lolita’s family. I needed to mail back their check. I also wanted to see if I could see who the owners were on papers of the Kitty Kat Koliseum and the Soft Touch Massage Parlor.

  What else would I find out? I knew Mayhem was an entrepreneur. So now I knew he didn’t make all his money from drug money. What was that the Feds said about him selling illegal cell phones in prison? I thought ab
out Tank’s mention of his Internet businesses and my brother trying to get into producing rap. He was more multi-dimensional than I would have ever guessed.

  I’d never known about his massage parlor or the strip joint. I wondered whose name they were under.

  I wouldn’t have time to follow up on Bonzo before I left, but I’d deal with that later. As I drove, I kept checking my rearview mirror, which was a habit for me these days. Last year while I was tracking down Trayvon’s murderer, I was often being followed by the same murderers, so now I always took that precaution. I always checked my back seat before I climbed into my car, whether day or night, too.

  I headed back to our office in Santa Monica since I needed to tie up loose ends before going out of the country. Our office had large diagonal marble tiles on the floor, a fancy Louis XVI antique sofa in the waiting room. We each had our own cubicles in the back with our individual computers. Ficus plants decorated the room for the green effect.

  I pulled out the cards of the two agents who’d pulled me in and looked them up online. They both sounded legit. I e-mailed Lolita’s family and let them know I would not be able to follow up on the case. I reimbursed them $2,000 on PayPal. I looked up Rio de Janeiro and the surrounding favelas and found there was a civil war on drugs going on at that moment where the government was trying to clean up the city. There was a travel advisory, but what could I do? I went on YouTube and saw interviews with the traffickers who had their heads covered with knit ski masks.

  I thought about Romero’s proposal and decided I’d think about that later. I had too much on my plate.

  I held my head in my hands. I was tired and needed to just shut my eyes. What was I getting into?

  I dozed off into a fitful sleep. I dreamed about my father, who’d been dead over twenty years. He always came to me in my sleep whenever I was faced with a lot of problems. In this dream, I was a little girl and my father was taking me to his new house he’d just purchased in Compton. I loved this stucco bungalow complete with the little picket fence, the American Dream, and everything was perfect except for one thing.