Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
As I left Ulysses in charge of the guards at the house, I summon Reino. Since the incident with Tatiana at the pool and what we’ve learned about the explosion, I’ve kept Kent at arm’s length. He’s got orders to oversee the smaller businesses in a different part of the city. To be on the safe side, I had his phone tapped. So far, he’s being a model employee.
I brief Reino in the car on the way. The club owner has an agreement with Sav. The manager meets us in person. The club may be dingy and smell of stale smoke, but the manager is as fresh as a daisy and decked out in a three-piece Armani suit. He carries his slim frame with an air of dignity and elegance.
I show him the photo of Oxo or 0X0 that my hacker pulled from the police records. “We need to speak to her. I understand she works here.”
“Oxo?” He smooths down his tie. “She hasn’t showed up for the last three weeks.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
He takes an inhaler from his pocket and sucks hard enough on the mouthpiece to make it appear as if he’s trying to empty it. When he’s done, he meets my gaze with teared-up eyes and says in a voice that sounds as if he’s holding his breath, “She’s a freelancer.”
“I take it that means you don’t keep records of home addresses.”
He coughs. “Sorry, no. Only telephone numbers. The freelancers aren’t obliged to divulge the information as they don’t sign employment contracts.” He beats a fist on his chest and clears his throat. “Not that it means much. The girls move around, if you know what I mean. They never think about updating their information. It’s pointless to try and keep up.” He waves over one of the waitresses. “I’ve left messages for Oxo since last week, but she hasn’t called back. I can give you her number.”
A half-naked woman with blond braids saunters up. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks,” I say, barely glancing at her. “The phone is dead. We traced it to a trashcan a block from here.”
The blonde steps in front of me. “Maybe something else?” She bats her eyelashes and looks me up and down. “A private lap dance? I have several routines that you may like.” She glances at Reino. “Your friend is welcome too.” She adds with a sultry smile, “Two for the price of one.”
“No.” I show her my ring finger. “Thanks.”
The manager catches her eye and tilts his head toward the bar. When she’s left with a finger-wave, he asks, “Is she in trouble? Oxo.”
“Maybe.”
“She’s not a bad girl.” His brow creases. “Not very picky when it comes to private customers, but she knows how to keep them happy.”
“I need a list of your customers, regulars and non-regulars.”
“I already told Sav I can give him our security camera recordings. We have one at the front entrance and one by the back door. Most of our customers pay cash, but you’re welcome to go through our card payment records.”
Reino takes his phone from his pocket and shows the manager the photos of the mercenaries. “Do they look familiar?”
The man squints at the screen. “Can’t say they do. They’re definitely not customers here.”
“Are you always here during operating hours?”
“Mostly. If I can’t be here, my second-in-command is in charge.”
“And who is he?” I ask.
“She.” The manager points at a woman with flaming red hair who mans the cash register behind the bar. “Sally.”
Reino hands him a business card with the number we use for off-the-books business. “Call us if she shows up or if you hear anything.”
He takes the card and studies the number. “Sure.”
I glance around the space. A few girls are warming up on stage. Topless waitresses are fluffing their hair and applying lipstick in the mirrored shelves of the bar, getting ready for their shift. “Can I talk to the staff?”
The owner holds out his arm, indicating that I may go ahead.
“Thanks.” Reino tips an imaginary hat at the man. “Much appreciated.”
We start with Sally. She tells us what the manager has said, that she’s never seen the Russians and that she hasn’t heard from Oxo in two weeks. She’s quick to add that they’re not close.
The other women don’t tell me anything useful either. None of them claim to be friendly with Oxo. Apparently, she keeps to herself.
After I’ve spoken to everyone, the manager shows us the changing room where the girls have lockers. He says when he opened Oxo’s locker, it was empty.
“They always keep at least a change of clothes here.” He combs his fingers through his graying hair. “I took this as her resignation.”
Reino juts his chin at the empty locker. “Does that happen often?”
“Rarely.” The man faces me. “Sometimes, a girl gets lucky and finds an unmarried man who’s serious about keeping her, but I can count the number of times that’s happened during my time here on one hand, and I’ve been managing this club for four years.”