The whole team gather around as Kurt steps up with a pile of photographs in his hands.
“Joel.” He sticks it on the middle of the board. “We know he’s running the show at Wayward.” He sticks several more photographs below Joel. “We know these are who work for him. This one…” He points to the one on the left. “He’s just been charged with murder.”
“Think it’ll stick?” Leroy asks.
“We have enough evidence, just no eye witnesses.”
“How did door to door go?” I ask, lifting up off the desk and taking Kurt’s place at the board.
“Nothing,” Kurt tells me. “You know the deal at Wayward. They won’t tell the cops anything.”
Don’t I fucking know it. They get away with murder. Literally. So many times we’ve built a solid case only for it to not even make it to trial because some hotshot lawyer comes in and gets them off on a technicality or even brings in an alibi when we know that they’re guilty.
“Leroy, Derrick… you’re wit
h me,” I tell them. “Kurt, do some digging here, I want to know every single connection that Joel has.”
“On it,” he replies.
“Let’s check out Wayward again, see if some quiet police presence can get someone talking.”
I walk back out of the pit, Leroy and Derrick following behind me.
I won’t let things like this go without knowing what’s actually going on, nothing ever happens there without a reason. And now that Kitty is staying there, I’m even more determined to make the place safe.
Pulling up to “Diva’s,” I take a good look around. The place is completely detached from any other properties that line the street. With its flashing sign containing a woman inside a martini glass and the walls painted black, there’s no denying that the place is a strip club.
Taking a deep breath, I pull my bag off the passenger seat and jump down from the truck. I decided to go all out for the “interview.” I piled on my makeup, curled and backcombed my hair and even put my contacts in. I finished the look off with jean shorts that leave little to the imagination paired with my favorite dark brown boots and a crop top.
I know for a fact that I’ll make an impression with this much skin on show. I know how to get noticed, but more importantly, I know how to go unnoticed.
I walk past the man on the door and he doesn’t even acknowledge me, or at least, he tries not to, but I see the quick flick of his eyes to my legs and chest.
Pushing through the door, I step inside a small waiting area with an opening in the right-hand wall where they check in people’s coats. Pulling open the black leather-covered doors, I step inside.
Immediately I’m hit with the smell of sex; scrunching up my nose, I take a good look around to assess the place. There’s a U-shaped bar to the left, a stage at the back along with smaller stages and poles scattered around the large space. The chairs are a mixture of velvet and leather but in this dim lighting, I can’t tell what color they are.
Taking a tentative step forward, I go to the bar and clear my throat, gaining the attention of the young guy stocking the shelves.
“Oh, hey.”
“Hey, I’m here for the interview,” I say, making my voice sound sickly sweet.
“Kitty?” he asks. That’s one thing when I go undercover, I never take on another name. It’s too easy to forget and then not answer when someone calls you.
“Yeah,” I answer, pushing some hair behind my ear.
“I’ll get the boss.”
He wanders off, leaving me on my own. First mistake, never leave someone unattended. This guy should have known better than that in a place like this. I lean against the bar, watching the doors that he went through.
I scan the behind the bar, taking stock of all the high-priced liquor they have. My brows raise when I see the bottle of Jameson, what I wouldn’t do for a shot of that right now to calm my nerves.
“Come on,” he waves when he pushes back through them.
Pushing up off the bar, I walk to him and follow him down the dark hallway. What is it with dim lighting in this place?
“In there.” He points at the last door and then walks off, not another word said.