Peaches and the Gambler

  “Nope,” Peaches replied, casually.

  She looked at her watch for one long, tense moment. Then, instead of standing beneath the camera and getting buzzed in as they had yesterday, she used a set of keys attached to her belt loop via a coiling, plastic cable, unlocking the door.

  She suddenly stopped short just before the door, blocking Peaches view into the room.

  “Oh. I wasn’t expecting you in here until five o’ clock,” she murmured, clearly perturbed. “I’ll come back later.”

  But Peaches had no intentions of not seeing the person or persons Ms. Eileen was clearly trying to hide.

  Peaches made her move.

  “No! Let’s go!” Ms. Eileen said sharply, reaching for Peaches arm. But she was already too late.

  Bustling past as though oblivious to Ms. Eileen’s desires to retreat, Peaches swished her hips into the room, smiling while tossing everyone a grand wave.

  Ahhh…so this is where the owners of the sleek motorcade in the parking lot were lounging.

  “Howdy, everybody!”

  There was a brief, shocked silence from the inhabitants of the room as they took stock of their unwanted visitor. Peaches scanned the space, laying eyes on each and every person. There were nine people altogether, including Massive Security Giant’s Number One and Two. Four of them looked like unadulterated riff-raff. Thugs. There was another guy, tall, with a long thin face and an expensive suit, who seemed out of place. He was sitting across from the riff-raff in a chair positioned to face everyone. He looked so familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

  Clearly she had interrupted a little Pow-Wow. But what kind?

  The dangerous kind.

  It didn’t take long to feel the strong, negative vibes emanating from this unsavory crowd. The bulge of something chunky poked through the shirt of one menacing guy’s hip; the flash of something metallic shone from another. It didn’t take a genius to figure out something illegal was taking place.

  In the Westside of Durham, there were two types of illegal activity that took place: the bad kind and the worse kind.

  Looked like this was the worse kind.

  “Just lost an earring is all!” Peaches sing-songed, hoping her voice wasn’t as rattled as it sounded. “Don’t mean to interrupt or nothin’”

  Dropping to her knees, she performed an exaggerated I Love Lucy styled search for the lost piece of jewelry, hoping to throw these guy’s off and ease the tension in the room.

  It sorta worked.

  Riff-Raff Number One, a weasel faced fellow with a thick Spanish accent, spoke up.

  “You one of the dancers here, Mami?” he asked, standing with his feet spaced wide apart, she supposed to make space for the enormous dick he wished was there.

  “Sure am,” Peaches replied, still searching the floor.

  “Maybe you give me a dance tonight, huh?”

  “You got enough cash I’m all yours, sweetie pie,” she replied with a saucy wink.

  Her reply elicited the desired response. He laughed, a couple of his grim-faced comrades joining him.

  “Oh, I got pleeeenty, Mami, pleeeeenty,” he assured her.

  “Hurry up!” Ms. Eileen hissed, looking nervously at the guys.

  While the guys were somewhat relaxed, Peaches moved in closer to where they were all seated, reaching in her purse for her phone and pretending to take a call.

  “Hello? Hello?” she said, all the while snapping picture after picture. “Damn! Call dropped!”

  The room once again grew thick with tension and Peaches knew it was time to retrieve her ‘lost’ earring. Opening her palm, she dropped the earring on the floor.

  “There it is!”

  She triumphantly held up an earring so small, the Hispanic guy who had requested a dance had to squint just to see it.

  “Thanks for being patient, fella’s. See you tonight. I’ll be sure to save a dance for ya’ll.”

  With a gay wave, she made her exit.

  Ms. Eileen, unnervingly quiet all the way down the hall, walked her to the front doors.

  “I’ll see you tonight, Mona,” Ms. Eileen said, eyes unreadable, smile cool.

  “See you tonight.”

  Heartbeat returning to its normal pace, she made quick work of taking surreptitious pictures of all those pretty cars parked in front of the building, paying special attention to the plate numbers, before hopping in her car and leaving.

  **

  After consulting her notes, she made her way over to Anton Farris’ house, a home on a quiet tree lined street bordering North Carolina Central University.

  Anton’s residence was presided over by a spunky, bejeweled lady in her early sixties. After thoroughly eyeballing Peaches wig and eye make-up, the woman stubbornly refused her entry, stating her grandson was not allowed to associate with women such as she. Sighing, she had pulled her wig off and after a full fifteen minutes of urgent conversation, convinced the woman she was working undercover as a private investigator for the mother of a murdered friend and that Anton was a witness to the people she believed did it.

  Appeased, the woman straight away launched into conversation about her grandson’s national honor roll status and the recent number one trophy he had won in a regional science competition. He was now moving on to the nationals.

  What was this bona fide geek doing hanging out in the hood with dubious aspirations of becoming a rap star? She was pretty sure his grandmother wasn’t aware of his extracurricular activities.

  After giving him a piercing look over his gushing grandma’s shoulder, to which he responded with a guileless smile, she had commenced to showing him the photos she had taken.

  “That’s definitely the SUV I saw. Definitely.”

  “You’re absolutely sure?” Peaches asked, once again thrusting her phone beneath his nose.

  Anton thrust it back, irked. “Yeah. How many times I gotta tell you that Ms. Peaches? Those are the guy’s I saw and that’s the SUV they were driving in. My memory is pretty flawless.”

  Now it appeared she had all the pieces to the puzzle.

  Back in her car, Peaches mind was racing. Anton was referring to Massive Security Giant’s Number One and Number Two. She couldn’t believe it. She may have actually cracked the case.

  **

  “How can you possibly say you don’t have enough evidence to make an arrest?” Peaches demanded, eyes ablaze. Tossing the notes she had taken over the past few weeks onto his desk, she furiously crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

  She had raced over to police headquarters, sure she was well on her way to a major police bust, only to be told by a dispassionate Detective Mendoso she hadn’t done enough. It was enough to burst a blood vessel.

  “Because I do not have enough information. Merely heresy and a hunch from a person who was clearly told to stay away from this case,” Detective Mendoso stated, severely. “That’s not enough to go arresting our fair Durham citizenry.” Though ‘fair’ and ‘citizenry’ were definite exaggerations when it came to those employed by Satin Doll’s.

  Scrutinizing the swinging platinum wig and wild purple eye shadow, he wondered if the informal investigation Peaches Donnelly had instigated had unhinged the woman. Going undercover as a stripper? My God.

  Despite himself, he felt a reluctant flame of respect sparking for the woman standing in front of his desk.

  “Heresay and a hunch! What is this? Sixteenth century Europe?” Peaches expostulated, outraged. “I dug up a whole hell of a lot more than that. What about my witness? What about what I saw going on in that room? What about the stripper saying she knew about the money when his own wife was none the wiser? In fact, where is the damned money?”

  “Calm down,” Detective Mendoso said, his unibrow a stern line.

  She had a point. Though he refused to tell her that. The information she had dug up, compelling as it was, wasn’t enough to warrant an arrest. He had been the one who had failed to shut down Satin Doll’s after the razor slashing incide
nt a few years ago. To hear they were once again in the middle of something unsavory made him wish police procedure were a bit more lax.

  “So, what are we going to do?” Peaches asked, trying her best to calm down.

  “We?” Detective Mendoso, snorted. “I’ll go down there tomorrow and I’ll talk to their security. See if they knew the victim. Anything else would require the go ahead from higher up and unfortunately, we don’t have nearly the proof we need to get approval for a raid.”

  “But tomorrow whatever it is they’re up to will be over,” Peaches cried. “Something is going down tonight and it’s related to The Suites. I’m sure of it.”

  “There’s a little something in the American legal system called Probable Cause. I would advise you to familiarize yourself with it, Peaches. My hands are tied,” he said, shrugging.

  “Yeah?” Peaches said, her mirthless smile making him very nervous. “But mine aren’t.”

  Chapter 33

  “I’m going to keep my Bluetooth on,” Peaches said to Stick. “If you don’t hear from me for more than five minutes, call the police.”

  They were sitting in Peaches car out in the parking lot of Satin Doll’s. It was seven o’clock and Peaches was headed in for her shift. Decked out in a silver pair of stiletto’s, a spangly tube dress and the platinum bob wig, she looked like she was ready to sell her goods on Angier Avenue, a notorious Westside enclave for prostitutes and Johns.

  “Peaches, maybe we should just--,” Stick began, apprehensively.

  “I already told you--,” Peaches interrupted, impatiently holding up a hand. “Detective Mendoso said they can’t do anything. Look, I’ll be fine.”

  She impulsively laid a palm on Stick’s slightly stubbled cheek. When she had called him two hours before, he had immediately agreed to assist, not questioning her nor trying to talk her out of it. But when they arrived, worry set in. She could see his concern in the scrunching of his brow and the tightness of his mouth.

  “Alright,” he sighed, rubbing his head. “I guess you’re going to do this whether I’m down or not, so I may as well be here in case you get yourself in trouble.”

  “Don’t forget I got daddy’s .45,” she said, smiling slightly and pointing to the glove box.

  “But that won’t do you any good while you’re inside.”

  “I’ll figure it out, Stick,” she said, getting out of the car and leaning down to talk in the open window. “Just keep your phone on so you can hear what’s happening.”

  Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, marching towards the end of an investigation that could prove her cleverness or bury her six feet deep.

  **

  She found the perfect opportunity to get into The Suites within an hour of starting her shift.

  A tall, light-skinned guy hailed her over to his table. Upon closer inspection, she recognized him as the twerp who had grabbed her bottom while she was in line with Polo. He was there with his previous cast and crew. Loud and boisterous, the would-be big baller’s rained Satin Doll’s currency on stage. Paula, the pink boa girl who so hated The Fuck Bunny, was currently finishing up her number, an impressive headstand split her finishing touch.

  “Anybody want a lap dance?” Peaches asked, sidling up to the group with her most smoldering expression once pink boa girl scampered behind the curtain.

  “Hell yeah!” Each young man hungrily eyed her body, their excitement palpable. “I like me a cougar!”

  A cougar? She was hardly cougar-aged. Even though forty was closer than she cared to admit.

  “What’s your name, sweetie?” she asked. It was a customary question to put clients at ease. Familiarity opened wallets that much wider.

  “Monte.”

  Peaches stood stock still, the spangly-jangly nipple covers Charm had re-gifted to her compliments of her exotic dancing past, moving of their own volition. Could this be the same Monte Nina had mentioned? The man that had taken her virginity? At nineteen he was certainly of the legal age to enter the club. Peering a little closer, she spotted a very familiar necklace around his neck. Looked like the same necklace Nina had been wearing for weeks.

  “How about a little something extra?” she asked, smiling invitingly and inclining her head toward the basement.

  “How much?” he asked, fairly salivating.

  “How much you got?”

  “Two hundred,” he said, hopefully.

  Ha! He wished. “Three hundred and we’re talking.” If she were really doing this for a living this clown wouldn’t even be able to afford a massage from her pinky toe.

  “Can’t do it,” he said, disappointment etched on his face.

  “Go on, dog. I got you,” said a young man with two diamond earrings and badly pockmarked skin. “Not everyday you turn twenty-one.”

  Twenty-one? Nina had been dating a twenty-one year old? It was enough to set Peaches teeth on edge. What the hell was someone that old still doing in high school? Clearly he was as dumb as a doornail.

  “Yeah. Let’s celebrate your birthday in style, Monte,” Peaches urged, tone brittle, smile stiff.

  They were followed by whoops and catcalls as they made their way to The Suites. Massive Security Giant Number Three was standing there, arms crossing a formidable chest, face twisted into the colossal scowl of security personnel across the nation. Peaches idly wondered if there were a school they attended that taught them this universally intimidating expression.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yes,” she said, smiling. “We want a room in The Suites.”

  He consulted a list sitting on a table by the basement’s entrance. “What’s your name?” he asked, frowning.

  “Mona.”

  “You ain’t on this list.”

  “But--,” she began.

  “No ‘buts’,” he cut in. “You ain’t on the list you don’t go down to The Suites.”

  She silently cursed. She hadn’t planned for this. Peaches had assumed any girl willing to make the extra money could head down the stairs and lay on their back. She hadn’t known she would need pre-approval. But tight as the Satin Doll’s ship was run, she should’ve known. That was a mistake on her part that could ruin the entire night.

  “I could make it worth your while,” she said. “How ‘bout I pay you a hundred bucks each time you let me down here?”

  He thought about it for a moment, looking her over and calculating what he thought she might be able to make him in a given night. He looked around, making sure no one of importance was nearby.

  “It’s a deal.”

  And with those words, she began the final leg in her undercover journey.

  **

  Once downstairs, she led Monte to the purple door. He was beside himself with excitement.

  “So what are you gonna do for the birthday boy?” he asked, grinning foolishly. “Hopefully it involves a happy ending?” A salacious wink followed this comment.

  The only happy ending he would get would be one where he was arrested for soliciting and tossed in a patrol car.

  “Sure, sweetie,” she said, her smile razor sharp. “A very happy ending.”

  She wanted desperately to confront him, to demand why he thought he could sleep with teenaged girls who were under the age of consent. But she couldn’t. If she were to do that right now, she would blow her cover and he would go stampeding back up the stairs. Then she would have no reason to be down here. No, she would have to hold her tongue and play nice. His day of reckoning would have to wait.

  “Why don’t you sit down here and make yourself comfortable,” she said, taking the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign off the back of the door and hanging it on the doorknob.

  He started coming out of his clothes with a rapidness that left her blinking her eyes in confusion. Within a few short seconds he was standing completely naked, a huge cock standing at attention.

  This was what Nina had contended with? She gawked, angry all over again. This was just way too much information. More than an
y mother ever wanted to know about her daughters ‘first’.

  Refocusing on the task at hand, she turned to him, smiling. “I need to run out and get some baby oil. I’ll be right back, sugar”

  “Stick--,” she said into her Bluetooth earpiece once she was in the hallway. “You still there?” She was alarmed when she got no response. Perhaps she had moved too far from the phone in her purse or maybe they got no reception down in the basement. Either way, it appeared she was cut off from her only line of communication.

  Nervous, she fetched a chair she spotted at the end of the hall, wedging it beneath the door the naked Monte was waiting in, effectively blocking his exit. Quickly knocking on the doors of the other rooms, she ascertained they were empty and got to work looking for whatever it may have been that got Lenny caught up in a scenario in which he ended up dead.

  She started in the bathroom at the end of the hall, using her fingertips to feel along cracks, looking for any irregularities in the wall, she came up empty. Nothing there.

  Using the same method, she checked the remaining rooms and walls, becoming increasingly disheartened as with each search she came up empty-handed.

  “Hey! What the--?” Monte exclaimed, trying the blocked doorknob.

  Peaches, having momentarily forgotten Monte, froze, staring at the door like a startled doe gazing into the barrel of a shotgun.

  The door of the room Monte was in rattled mightily against its frame. Failing to budge it open, he started banging on it. “Hello? Anybody there? I’m locked in! Help! Heeelp!”

  While she stood there listening to Monte’s frantic cries and pondering her next move, someone started clattering down the stairs.

  Shit!

  Panicked and trying to figure out what to do next, she leaned against the wall. It wobbled. Turning, she saw a slight unevenness in the wall to her right. Praying, she took a deep breath, giving it a hard push. Expecting nothing, her mouth fell open when the wall swung inward. It was corny and obvious and brilliant. Swinging walls were only in the movies. Not in strip clubs doubling as whore houses.

  There was nothing to do now but walk inside.

  The wall swung shut behind her. She was immediately blanketed in complete darkness, the only light shining in from the slight crack beneath the wall panel. Feeling her way along, she gingerly stepped forward, catching herself just before falling down a pitch black stairwell. Grabbing what felt like a rough hewn banister, she edged her way cautiously to the bottom of the short flight of stairs She felt along the wall, feeling very much as helpless as a babe in the woods. Thankfully, her questing fingers eventually found a light switch. She flipped it on, bald halogen lighting flooded a large storage space with a single pallet containing fifteen to twenty tightly wrapped bales of something.