The Harry Starke Series: Books 1-3: The Harry Starke Series Boxset Page 56

  “Happy New Year, son. I envy you.”

  The rest of the holiday was spent lounging around the condo, eating, drinking, and enjoying what I supposed must, for most folks, be wedded bliss. Hell, I even played golf with the old man; the old devil beat me handily, as always. He took more glee from taking that ten-dollar bill from me.... Damn.

  The only dark spots of the entire Christmas-New Year period were the storm clouds brewing in the distance, and I’m not talking about the weather.

  Salvatore De Luca was never very far from my thoughts.

  Chapter 27

  The office was cold when I arrived a little before eight that first Monday morning of 2016. Someone had turned the heat down to sixty-four degrees. I turned it up and almost immediately felt the blast of warm air across my legs. Thank the Lord for gas heat.

  One by one, they came dragging in through the side door. First Jacque, then Bob, Tim, and everyone else. I made myself a coffee, black, and went into my office. The files we had taken from the Dickersons still lay there on my desk, unopened. Tim must have put them there sometime during the holiday.

  In the outer office, I could hear them, talking together about their experiences. For a moment, I was tempted to join the fun, but it was then that my cell phone buzzed. I looked at the screen. Kate.

  “Hey, you,” I said. “How the hell are you?”

  “Not as good as you, I bet.” Oh, hell.

  It was then I realized it was the first Christmas and New Year I hadn’t spent with Kate in more than ten years. I felt like shit.

  “Harry? You still there.”

  “Yeah. Kate. I’m sorry....”

  “Oh hell, Harry. Don’t even go there. You don’t owe me a thing, okay? Now, what are you doing? We need to talk. I’m headed that way. Are you free?”

  “Well, yeah, but....”

  “Good. See you in ten.” Click. Geeze. Where does she get that from? She never used to do that.

  She was here in eight, and she was as feisty as a terrier on steroids. She stamped into my office, a tall Starbucks cup in her hand. As always, she looked stunning, even dressed as she was for the weather. She was wearing jeans tucked into high-heel boots that came almost up to her knees, a white turtleneck sweater under a heavy, black North Face Denali coat, and a white wool hat. She was carrying a slim briefcase.

  She took off the heavy coat, laid it down on one of the chairs, sat down heavily in another, the Glock at her waist slamming against the arm, and stretched out her legs.

  “So,” she said, with a huge grin on her face. “Look at you. You caught some sun. How was the Caribbean? No, no, no,” she held up her hand to stop me answering, “forget it. None of my business. Still, it looks like you had a nice time.”

  I just looked at her and shrugged. I didn’t think she was quite as chipper as she made out.

  “I needed it, Kate. I did some serious thinking while I was out there, mostly about De Luca. You do realize that one of us is probably going to die before this is over, don’t you?”

  “Not if I can help it. This is not the OK Corral, Harry. We don’t do High Noon anymore. You have to leave it to the police.”

  “Hah,” I said. “You can’t do a thing until he makes a move. Then it will be way too late, and what if, in the meantime, someone gets hurt, or killed? The man is crazy; he’s a nut job. He has to be stopped. We’re all walking around looking over our shoulders, living behind bars, security systems. That can’t go on; not indefinitely.”

  She nodded. “You’re right, but you can’t take matters into your own hands. I won’t allow it.”

  She meant it, I could tell, but she wasn’t the one with the responsibility for almost a dozen other people. I was, and she could tell by the look on my face that I wasn’t having any of it.

  I changed the subject. “So what did you need to talk to me about?”

  “We have a DNA profile back for the body in the drain, but we don’t have a match, at least not yet. There’s nothing on the NCIC or CODIS databases. Whoever he was, he’s not going to be able to help us. Do you think Sam might like to do another head?”

  “Dunno. We can ask her. I’ll have to pay her this time though, but don’t worry about that. I’ll handle it.”

  She nodded. “We need to sit down, all of us, and try to figure out exactly what we do have.”

  “We can do that now if you like, before the office winds back up again. Are you done with Tim?”

  “I am. He’s been very helpful. We now have a working list of people who were lodged at Hill House during the period when the Draycotts took over, and just after. We also have a list of sorts gleaned from what little information was available on the Dickersons’ two computers. Were you able to do anything with those files?” she asked, nodding at the pile on my desk.

  “Er no. I just got back. I planned to go through them this morning. Can I have copies of the lists?”

  “Yes, of course.” She dug into the briefcase and brought forth several sheets of paper stapled together.

  “They are listed in order by date of residence. Tim has already managed to run some of them down, which was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. We need to set up interviews, and I’d like for us to do them together, here, if you don’t mind. This is much more comfortable for what I have in mind than an interview room on Amnicola.”

  “Sure. When do you want to start?”

  “As soon as possible. Tomorrow, if we can.”

  I nodded. “Do you have a list with phone numbers?”

  “I do.” Again she delved inside the case and came up with a single sheet of paper on which were eleven names.

  “We can start with these,” she said, handing it to me. “I also have the files for each of them out in the car.”

  I glanced at the names. Nothing jumped out at me, but then why would it.

  “I’ll have this copied, and the files, if you don’t mind, then I’ll have Jacque make the calls and see if we can get started. How’s that?”

  She hesitated for a moment, then said, “I’d rather the calls were made by a sworn officer. It would carry more weight. I took a liberty and brought a female officer with me. She’s waiting in the outer office.”

  “Well, have her come in then. Let’s brief her. She can use the back office.”

  Kate rose to her feet, opened the door, and beckoned. “Officer Susan Beckham, this is Mr. Harry Starke. Harry, Susan.”

  I rose, leaned over the desk and shook her hand, and then I sat back and listened as Kate gave her instructions. The idea was to persuade them to come to this office starting at nine in the morning, at thirty-minute intervals. Kate would do the interviews and I would sit in. If anything grabbed my attention, I would chime in. We didn’t expect them all to come in, but we needed at least a half dozen, and the request was to be presented firmly and with the authority of the police department backing it up.

  When we were done, I had Jacque take her to the back office and show her how the phone system worked. I also had her put a block on the system so it wouldn’t show the caller or the number.

  “Okay,” I said, when Officer Beckham had left. “What else do you have for me?”

  “Something that will interest you greatly,” she replied. “On Tuesday last week, when you and Amanda were splashing about in the sunshine, we picked up two hookers. Both of them were under age.”

  She paused and looked at me, smiling. I waited, nothing.

  “Well, damn it. What?”

  “They both claimed they wanted out....”

  “No shit,” I said. “Did they implicate anyone? De Luca, Dickerson?”

  She shook her head. “No, not yet. They both clammed up, asked for lawyers. One of them is only fifteen; the other is sixteen. They were working the hotels, together, as a team, a twosome. I think there’s more, but they weren’t talking, either of them. They’re young, very scared. We still have them at the PD. I was thinking that you should talk to them, unofficially. You’re not a cop. They j
ust might open up to you.”

  I nodded. “Let’s do it. When?”

  She looked at her watch. “It will have to be at the department. I already have Johnston’s tentative approval, which is enough for now. It’s nine-thirty now. Why don’t you meet me there, say in half an hour?”

  “I’ll be there. I think it might be a good idea for me to see them together. Yeah, I know; that’s not how it’s done, and that’s exactly why I want to do it that way. Have them ready when I get there.”

  “Nice to have you back, Harry,” she said, as she rose to her feet. “Maybe you can buy me lunch sometime.”

  She turned and walked out of the door without a backward look. I felt like an ass.

  Chapter 28

  Kate was waiting in the lobby when I arrived at the police department on Amnicola Highway. She ushered me through security, pinned a visitor’s badge on me, and walked me through to one of the interview rooms. They were already sitting together at the table, drinking Cokes from cans. Oh boy, these are a rare couple to be sure.

  Under the cold fluorescent lights, they looked pathetic. Two underweight, under-dressed waifs, one blonde, one redhead; both would have looked more at home in a Dickensian orphanage. Talk about Oliver Twist.

  They did have coats on, of sorts: those quilted, shiny things. They both wore miniskirts that barely covered their asses, and tight sweaters that showed just how underendowed they both were. Most ludicrous of all were the shoes they were wearing: stiletto heels at least five inches high. Neither one of them carried a purse. I guessed they must keep whatever few belongings they possessed in their coat pockets.

  “Hey, girls. How are you?” I asked. “Can I get you anything?”

  “I could use a smoke,” the blonde one said. “Who the hell are you?”

  “My name is Harry Starke. You can call me Harry. I’m a private investigator. I’m here to try and help you, and no, you can’t have cigarettes; you’re too young.”

  “Then why don’t you take a hike, Harry? We have nothing to say to you.”

  I nodded, looked at the plate glass mirror, behind which I knew Kate and several other officers were watching, including the chief, I shouldn’t wonder.

  “I understand how you feel,” I said. “I—”

  “Like hell you do.” This time it was the redhead who spoke. “Why don’t you just leave us alone? They have to let us go soon.”

  “No, they don’t. You were caught offering yourselves for prostitution, at one of those goddamn short-stay, ten-buck an hour, no-tell motels, for God’s sake, and you’re both under age. That means you get turned over to Children’s Services.”

  “So what,” the redhead said. “You think they can hold us? They couldn’t before. We’ll be outa there before they draw the goddamn drapes.”

  “Okay,” I said. “That’s enough. Just hear me out for a minute. I’m trying to help you get yourselves out of this mess. You do want out, don’t you?”

  They looked at each other, then down at the table. The blonde, the younger of the two, whispered something I couldn’t hear. The redhead shook her head, put her hand reassuringly on her friend’s arm, looked up at me and said, “So talk. I ain’t sayin’ anythin’, an’ I ain’t promisin’ nothin’, but we’ll listen.”

  “Okay, so listen to me. I can get you out of the game and into a nice home, with a proper job, food, clean clothes, warm beds, medical attention, and a chance at a proper life, and I can do it today. You don’t have to go back to the life, but you’ve got to help me to help you. Will you do that?”

  “What you talkin’ about?” the redhead asked. “What home? Where? We get our own room? Just us two?”

  “All in good time. You ready to get out?”

  Again, they looked at each other, then at me, and then they both slowly nodded their heads.

  “Good, I’m going to ask you some questions, and I’m going to record what you say. I’ll get your names, then all you need do, for now, is answer those questions you feel comfortable with. Got that?”

  They both nodded.

  I opened my iPad. “First, let me get your names.” I looked across the table, waiting.

  “I’m Terri Stokes. She’s Sandra Lutz,” the blonde said.

  “Terri. You’re fifteen, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sandra. You’re sixteen?”

  “I’ll be seventeen in three months,” she said truculently.

  I smiled at her. “And you’re going to live to see your birthday. I promise.”

  They looked at each other. Terri grabbed the older girl’s hand and squeezed it. Then she burst into tears.

  It was several minutes before she was able to compose herself enough to continue.

  I figured the youngster wasn’t about to give up her chance, and that she was the one I needed to concentrate on. I was wrong.

  “Terri,” I said. “Where are your parents?”

  “She ain’t got none. They died when she was three. She’s bin in fosters ever since, ‘till she run away an’ I got ‘er, that is.” Sandra was obviously the alpha of the two.

  I nodded. “Okay then. What about you, Sandra? Where are your parents?”

  “I ain’t got none either, well I ‘ave, but they threw me out, well my mom did, when I told ‘er about me dad, touchin’ me an’ all.” Christ! Poor kids. First that, and then this mess.

  “So, Sandra, I need to know; who do you work for?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You have to answer the question, Sandra.”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay, let’s try this: where are you two living now?”

  “I cain’t tell ya. They’ll… they’ll... I cain’t. You don’t need to know all that. All you gotta do is get us out, like you said you would.” There were tears running down her face now.

  “It’s okay, Sandra,” I said, gently. I reached across the table and took her hand. It was icy cold. She looked at me, her eyes wide, tears streaming down her face.

  “I understand. I really do. You’re already out. I’m going to make sure you stay out. Okay?”

  She sniffed, nodded, and gazed at me.

  “Okay, now I need to know where you were living. It’s really, really important.”

  She sniffed again, and said, ‘On Cherry Street; we lived in a place on Cherry Street.”

  My heart almost stopped. I couldn’t believe it. She’d just handed us the Dickersons. It was too easy. I had to make sure.

  “You mean Blessed are the Homeless? The Reverend Dickerson’s shelter?

  “Yeah, but it ain’t no shelter. He buys an’ sells kids, and makes us do stuff, you know, stuff, like at the hotel.”

  I was stunned, and I know the watchers behind the glass were, too.

  “Okay, Sandra. We’re doing good. Now think carefully before you answer this next one. Was there anyone else besides the Dickersons involved? Did he send you to see or work for anyone else?” It was a forlorn hope, but what the hell. Who knew who else might be involved in the mess? I had to try.

  “I dunno what you mean,” she said. “There was him, Mr. Dickerson, ‘is wife, ‘an two big black guys, an’ a couple a others. That’s all we saw, weren’t it, Terri?”

  The youngster nodded.

  “The big black guys; what were their names, do you know?”

  “Darrel, or somthin’. No, Darius, was one. He called the other one Mouse.”

  “And you lived in the rooms up on the top floor with the other girls, right? How many were there, other girls?”

  “Shit. What you smokin’? We lived in the basement; all fifteen of us. There ain’t nobody lives up there on the top floor. That’s all jus’ for show.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I was speechless, dumbfounded.

  I shuddered, and I know they heard it when I swallowed. “But those rooms aren’t fit to live in,” I said. “There are no lights, no heat, nothing.”

  “What you talkin’ about?” Sandra asked. “What rooms? I only
seen one room, one big room, with a bathroom, closets, an all. It ain’t too bad, just crowded is all. I lived in worse. It’s what we have to do for it we don’t like.”

  “Okay, girls. You’re going to have to help me out. What big room?”

  She screwed up her face. I think she thought I was stupid. “The one at the back, under the kitchen an’ stuff.”

  I drew a rectangle on the legal pad in front of me, pushed the pad across the table to Sandra and said, “That’s looking down on the house from above. Draw your room for me, please.”

  She picked up the pencil and drew a line across the rectangle. There were now two rectangles, one took up two thirds of the floorplan, the other about a third; she put a large cross in the smaller of the two rooms.

  I looked at it, then at her. “The kitchen and work rooms are above the cross, right?”

  She nodded. I took the pencil from her and drew two lines in the bigger rectangle representing the corridor with the empty rooms on either side, then I pushed the pad across the table so they could look at it.

  “That, there,” I pointed with the pencil, “is a corridor in the basement with rooms on either side.”

  “Never seen it. Never bin the other side of the wall.”

  I pulled the pad back and stared down at it. The stairs up skirted the brick dividing wall between the two basement areas. To all intents and purposes, it was a dead end. You’d have to be looking for it to find it, and we weren’t, but we should have been. Now I knew what that steel door at the rear was for.

  “How did you get in and out of that room, Sandra? Through the steel door at the rear?”

  “Ain’t no doors at the rear that I know of, it’s all smooth concrete.” So that second steel door is a dummy. Hmmm.

  “There’s a way down from upstairs,” she continued, “but we went in an’ out through the front wall of the basement. There’s all sorts of tunnels there.”

  “Okay, girls,” I said. “I’m going to need some help with this. Is it all right if I bring in Lieutenant Gazzara and another man?”