Blood Trade, page 4
“That’s definitely my best work,” said Sid, as he slathered on antibacterial gel. “I’ll have Terry over here at noon tomorrow.”
“You can’t wait until Monday?”
“I’d really like to get it done. I need to get my signs and ads done. I’m losing money.”
“Fine.”
“And um…”
“What?” she asked.
“You’re going to get cleaned up, right? You look… bedraggled.”
“Fuck you, Sid. Bed… that’s not even a real word.”
“Don’t be like that, Xochitl,” Sid whined. “You know you’re my perfect woman.”
Xochitl rolled her eyes, but she could tell by the breathless way that he said it that Sid was completely serious.
“You can drive my truck out to get your hair and I’ll set up some time at the spa there for you too. It’s my treat.”
“Fine. I’ll leave right now. I don’t want to look bedwrangled.”
Sid smiled meekly and handed her his keys.
Walking around downtown Vegas, one could quickly forget that the city stretched out a great distance in either direction. The Strip ran south for miles and miles, out of the city limits and into the surrounding unincorporated township. Xochitl hit the 95 in Sid’s ten-year-old Ford half ton and drove west, all the way to Summerlin, the vast land development named for Howard Hughes’ mother, which was almost as large as the city proper. This was where Naked Aphrodite Spa was located.
She wasn’t really in the mood to splay her legs for a laser technician, but it had been four weeks since Xochitl’s last laser hair removal treatment. She had done her eyebrows and her underarms just after arriving in Vegas, but hadn’t started on her legs or bikini area because she enjoyed the cathartic experience of hot waxing. She had to go all the way when she made her deal with Sid. There weren’t many hairs for the woman to find, but she dutifully ran the photoelectric pulses over the skull tattoo on Xochitl’s pubic area as well as every other part of her undercarriage. Afterwards the detective enjoyed a one hour massage on Sid’s dime, but the real object of the trip was to pick up her custom-made dread falls. They were 18 inches long, split into pigtails, and featured electric blue, baby blue, and silver cyberlox; black and blue foam accents, and silver lacing. The hair stylist washed her hair and put it into tight buns, then helped her fasten in the falls. She had to admit they looked awesome. And since she was way out of her usual haunts, she treated herself to a Barbacoa burrito at the tiny Mexican café next door.
Back at First and Harding, she parked the truck in front of Robot Slut Tattoo and gave Sid the keys. He stared at her open-mouthed when he saw her hair. Entering the back of the detective agency, she trudged up the stairs to her apartment without looking in on Novelyne in the front room. There was no doubt the other woman could hear her. Once her hairpieces were removed, she laid them across the far side of the bed and then lay down next to them. The long night and the events that went with it suddenly seemed to overwhelm her and it was less that she fell asleep than she lapsed into unconsciousness. When she opened her eyes again and saw the darkness outside the window, a sinking sensation climbed into her stomach and she suddenly felt like sobbing.
“What animal did you kill to get this pelt?” Novelyne was hidden in a shadow by the foot of the bed.
“Fat lot you know. That’s two hundred dollars worth of nerd fantasy.”
“You know Sid wouldn’t care what your hair looked like as long as he got to see you naked.”
“You’re probably right.” Xochitl smiled in spite of herself.
“So what are we doing tonight?” Novelyne wondered. “Or are you going to leave me like you did last night?”
“No. You’re going to take me to Mrs. Lank and her vampire.”
“Can I take a bath first?”
“Go ahead”
Xochitl used the opportunity to change. She put on a pair of jeans and combat boots. Then she switched out the rather generic t-shirt for a black one featuring Nefertari. She left the dread falls on her bed, but kept her hair in the buns the stylist had created. She took her .45 and shoulder holster, and her digital camera in her pocket. Novelyne wore a little garden party dress. It was covered with floral print, but was dark purple and blue, so Xochitl judged it wouldn’t stand out too much in the dark. When the two women were both ready, they left through the front office door.
The Lanks lived on the east side of town, not too far from where it bordered North Las Vegas, but Novelyne reported that Mrs. Lank’s previous rendezvous had taken place in a house just on the other side of 95 from them, near Bonanza and Bruce. That was where they went. It was well within walking distance. They left the office just after eleven and arrived at the house in question just before midnight. Considering how close it was to Glitter Gulch, it was a nice, quiet neighborhood. The houses were old for Vegas, some over 60 years old, but they were all in good repair, and there was an elementary school across the street.
The specific house that Novelyne led them to was a small, square olive green cottage with slate siding. There were off-white draperies inside the windows and faux shutters on the outside. Juniper bushes were spaced evenly across the front of the house. Like most of the other homes in the neighborhood, this one had a fairly large yard kept lush by automatic sprinklers. Sneaking up to the window they looked inside, but saw no one. Only a single lamp was on. The other window revealed no occupants of the home. Xochitl sat down between two junipers with her back to the house and pulled Novelyne down beside her.
“Maybe they’re not coming back,” suggested Novelyne.
“We’ll wait and see.”
They sat on the ground for almost an hour. They didn’t speak. Xochitl mused that it had to be Novelyne’s best feature that at least she didn’t talk all the time. Though there was a slight breeze, the air and the ground were warm. Finally a shiny new Chrysler 200 pulled into the driveway. A tough looking guy with a shaved head got out of the driver’s side and walked around to open the passenger door.
“That’s not the guy I saw before,” said Novelyne.
“He’s not a vampire either,” replied Xochitl. “He’s breathing.”
The man helped a woman out of the vehicle. She wore a tiny black dress and teetered on five-inch heels that made her legs look incredibly long. The man had to grab her to keep her from falling when she tripped on her lace thong, wrapped around her ankles.
“That’s Mrs. Lank though.”
Mrs. Lank was a well built woman of around thirty. Her dark hair was cut short, and even in the relatively scant light of the streetlamps it was evident that she had a pretty face. Her large breasts were clearly the product of a plastic surgeon. She giggled as her escort slid his hands up under her dress displaying her bare ass for the entire world. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him sloppily. He practically had to drag her to the door. Apparently there was more than just her underwear making walking difficult. As they passed through the doorway, Xochitl drew her gun and the two women got up out of the juniper bushes, quickly following them in.
Xochitl planted the sole of her right combat boot in the man’s back and sent him reeling forward. Though he dropped the woman on the floor, he recovered and shot back toward her with a high kick that marked him as a martial artist of some kind. Blocking the kick with her forearm, Xochitl drove the barrel of her gun into his throat. His eyes widened in shock as he couldn’t draw a breath, but he still managed two quick punches at her head. She dropped below them and then kicked his legs out from under him. Now on his back, Mr. Shaved Head kicked the air and clawed at his throat as he turned blue.
Novelyne had pulled Mrs. Lank up onto a large, fluffy sofa. She had smacked her head on the floor when she fell, but if anything, it seemed to have sobered her up a bit. Turning the woman’s head to the side and pulling up her hair, the secretary pointed out a two inch long cut along the side of her neck.
“It doesn’t look like she’s been fed on today and I don’t think he wants her tonight.”
“What makes you think that?” asked Xochitl.
“She’s been doing more than drinking. I think she’s on X. Nobody wants blood that’s tainted with drugs.”
Xochitl blinked in surprise that Novelyne knew what Ecstasy was, but shrugged it off.
“Mrs. Lank? What’s her first name?”
“Evelyn,” replied the secretary.
“Evelyn, do you know where you are?”
“Uh… no. I came here with Eric. He’s Israel’s friend.”
“Israel?” asked Novelyne. “Is that the man you were with yesterday?”
“Yes,” answered Mrs. Lank, dreamily. “He’s my boyfriend.”
“Then what are you doing here with Eric?” asked Xochitl.
“Israel said I had to take care of his friends.” A trail of drool ran from the left corner of her mouth, dripping down to the couch cushion. “He said I was his slut… I had to fuck anyone he told me to… to make him happy. I want to make him happy.”
“Just shut the fuck up,” muttered Xochitl. She looked at Novelyne. “So what is this guy, like a henchman or something?”
Novelyne shrugged as she looked past her. “Whatever he was, he’s dead now.”
The detective turned around. “Woopsie.”
“What do we do now, call Sid?”
“No. Sid would freak if he found out this guy was alive before we killed him. Our deal was for vampires.” Xochitl turned to Novelyne. “Do you have any money?”
The blonde nodded.
“Walk Mrs. Lank down to the corner. Call for a taxi to pick the two of you up at Lenny’s Mini Mart. Take her home and then you can use the cab to get back to the office.”
Novelyne nodded again. Then she pulled the half conscious woman up from the sofa and threw her over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry, even though Mrs. Lank was noticeably larger than she was. Once her secretary was out the door, Xochitl pulled out her cell.
“It’s me. I need your help.”
While she waited, she searched the man’s body. He had a wallet. His California driver’s license said that he was Jacob Farrentino. He had almost two thousand in cash on him. Xochitl took all but $100. Less than fifteen minutes later, Lance Rizzello stepped through the front door. He wore jeans and a tee shirt, but he had his Glock in his waistband. He put his arm over her shoulder and grabbed one her hair buns, shaking it a bit.
“I like the hair. They’re like little handles.”
“I have a problem,” she pointed to the body on the floor.
“Who is he? You fucking him?”
“No. My client’s wife was.”
“Good.” He chewed his lip for a moment. “Is she going to keep quiet?”
“She was so high I don’t even think she’ll remember him,” Xochitl replied.
“Good,” said Rizzello again. “Now get out of here. And remember, you owe me one.”
“I’d think we were even now.”
“You know that’s not how it works,” he grinned. “A quick poke in the alleyway isn’t the same thing as a dead body.”
She nodded unhappily and headed for the door.
“You know you really shouldn’t be out on the street tonight,” he called after her. “It’s a full moon and I know of at least two wolves in town.”
“I can take care of myself,” she replied without turning around.
“Oh, I know.”
She walked quickly down the street, around the corner. She was just passing under the expressway when she heard the distant wolf howl. Shit. Instinctively reaching for her .45, she remembered that she hadn’t loaded any of her clips with silver. Not that silver bullets were as effective as everyone let on anyway. She cut right and headed for the back of the California Club. A few minutes later, she heard footsteps on the pavement behind her.
Jumping into a side alley, she ran as fast as she could to a big green dumpster and jumped behind it. Watching the spot where the alley met the street, she saw him. He stopped and looked toward her but didn’t see her. He glanced all around and then continued on. It was the guy that she had seen the other day on the parking garage—same short hair, same dark suit, and same skinny tie. Shit. Was he a vampire? It was too far away to see if he was breathing. The warm, dry Nevada air didn’t help out with a visual vapor cloud. Maybe he was the same vampire that Mrs. Lank had been hooking up with. Xochitl hadn’t seen Mrs. Lank’s “boyfriend,” and Novelyne hadn’t seen this guy on Fremont Street. Maybe they were the same guy.
She waited about a minute and then jogged the rest of the way up the alley. It was a straight shot across Glitter Gulch and then home to the office. Xochitl heard the wolf howl one more time, but it was far away—somewhere northwest of the Spaghetti Bowl.
Chapter Four: Zielinski
“Not the same guy,” said Novelyne. “My vampire had long hair and a pointy beard and was dressed in black leather with a trench coat. He was the kind of guy you would like.”
Xochitl stood in front of the bathroom mirror, with Novelyne behind her, and painted a thick coating of Goth white makeup over her face and breasts. Then she took out her eyebrow stencils and painted dark upswept anime brows punctuated by tiny stars. She had replaced her combat boots with black seven and a half inch fetish knee-highs. Her fishnets didn’t quite reach the bottom of her black leather pleated mini skirt, revealing the two tattooed names written in script across her right thigh. The black lamb skin corset was laced up tight in the back, squeezing her waist to six inches smaller than her natural form and pressing her pale breasts up over the top. She had already arranged the dread falls in her hair.
“I’m not sure what you’re supposed to be,” said Novelyne.
“A Gothic slut.”
“Oh, well, mission accomplished then.”
Making her way down the alley, Xochitl entered the back door of Robot Slut Tattoo to find Sid’s friend Terry had turned the back room into a photo studio. He was no slouch either, with a big Hasselblad set up on a tripod, surrounded by flash umbrellas. His white backdrop was arranged against the wall, and just in front of that, a large white wing back chair.
Terry was a tall and very skinny man in his early thirties, with short cropped hair just going grey and a John Waters mustache. For the next two hours he used his sweaty hands to place Xochitl in a variety poses draped across the white chair. Halfway through, the miniskirt was discarded, leaving her in a vinyl microbikini, and several minutes later the corset followed the skirt, leaving her naked above the waist except for two pieces of electrical tape forming an X over each nipple.
“You are awesome,” said Terry as he snapped away. “We could make some serious scratch from fetish magazines, if you’re into that.”
“The pictures are for Sid.”
“It’s not like nobody’s going to see them. You know he’s putting them on his sign… probably a billboard too.”
“That’s Sid’s business.”
As Xochitl was shimmying back into her skirt, the tattoo artist came back from the front of the store where he had been etching a fairy and mushroom on a redhead’s left breast in between games of Angry Birds on his laptop.
“Are feeling alright, Xochitl? I can see your ribs.”
“You’re not looking at my ribs.”
“When did you last eat something?” he asked.
“I honestly don’t remember.” She slipped the corset around her and zipped it up the front. “Why don’t you take me out to lunch?”
“Really?”
She laughed at his eagerness. “Sure.”
“Do you want to go change?”
“No. Come on. We can hit Food Factory.”
“Hell no. If I’m taking somebody that looks like you to lunch, then it’s going to be someplace nice and hopefully someplace where a lot of people see me.”
They hopped in Sid’s truck and drove south down the strip. Though he desperately wanted to take her to one of the trendy theme restaurants with attached night clubs, the fanciest place that either knew that had a lunch menu was the Top of the World restaurant at the Stratosphere. After parking in the garage, they took the elevator up 844 feet to the revolving dining room, where probably thanks to Xochitl’s dress, they waited only a few minutes for the table.
“What are you in the mood for,” asked Sid, peering over the menu.
“I was planning to get a burger.”
“You can have whatever you want.”
“Portobello and mozzarella appetizers,” he told the blond waitress with sensible shoes, when she arrived. “And a bottle of Shiraz.”
The server, whose eyes hadn’t left Xochitl’s barely clothed form, nodded and left.
“She seems angry that I don’t have more clothes on.”
“Are you kidding? She wants you. She’s obviously a lesbian. Did you see her shoes? Don’t get any ideas though. You’re my date.”
When the waitress returned with the appetizers and wine, Xochitl ordered her burger—an Angus Beef burger with blue cheese and toasted onions that cost as much as seventeen burgers from Food Factory. Sid ordered a New York Steak, rare. Xochitl stared out the panoramic window as the restaurant slowly rotated revealing in turn the Strip running south like a stark, sinful streak; the vast sea of identical stucco-covered, sun-drenched staleness; and the dark, decaying decadence of downtown.
“Everyone in here’s looking at you,” said Sid.
“Yeah, everyone is.”
“You know, plenty of hot tattoo girls fall in love with their artists.”
“Sid, you’re the most talented artist in the world. It’s not in the cards for you and me though.”
He took a big swig of wine. “It’s because I’m fat and ugly isn’t it.”
“It’s because of how we met.”
“I think that’s kind of romantic. You saved my life.”
“That’s not where we met, Sid. When I killed that vampire, we’d already known each other for six months. You’d probably stuffed five hundred singles into my g-string by then. And the only reason I happened to be there is that you got attacked while you were stalking me.”
