The interior was outrageous. The decor was Egyptian with music surging from enormous amplifiers hidden in two mummy cases at each end of the large room. Brass palm trees shimmered before its onslaught, hieroglyphics decorated the sconces, and the announcer worked the control- board with the frenzy of a concert pianist, his booth nestled between the paws of an enormous sphinx that dominated one end of the room. Spotlights roved the club, while the dance floor, illuminated from below, seemed to pulsate with the beat of the music.
The place was jammed but Leo Winter was easy to spot. He was on the dance floor, moving casually with the beat, dancing with a blonde whose gothic chest, wrapped in see-through cotton, jogged in rhythm with the music.
Winter, a triangle of a man with bullish shoulders, hardly any waist, and large hands, was dressed in a yellow leisure suit, brocaded at the collar and open to the waist, a gold chain with a charm the size of a manhole cover bouncing around his neck. As one record segued into another Winter and the woman returned to their table beside the dance floor. His eyes made an alert sweep of the room, passed Papa, then flicked back and lingered on him for a moment. The big cop jerked his head towards the door, turned, and went outside.
He stood near his car in the parking lot, outside the perimeter of light around the flamboyant entrance, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, protecting them against the frigid night wind that had chased away the rain. Winter emerged a few minutes later and joined him, the wind rippling through tight curls on his head. He held his jacket closed with one hand.
‘Hi, Cowboy,’ he said to Papa.
‘How’s it going, Leo?’ Papa said.
‘Right now I’m freezing my ass off. This gonna take long?’
‘Depends on you.’
‘Uh oh. I got some trouble I don’t know about?’
Papa shook his head. ‘Information.’
Leo’s attitude changed. His body tightened and seemed to grow an inch. He stood with one shoulder towards Papa, staring into the dark parking lot.
Papa said, ‘I’m gonna tell you something and you’re gonna forget it as soon as I tell you. Then I’m gonna ask you something. Then we’ll go from there.’
Leo continued to look into the darkness.
‘First off, you know a fancy pros calls herself Domino?’ Leo thought about the question, then said, ‘Is this a freebie or can we do a little trading?’
‘Leo, I got this big problem. I’m runnin’ outa time and I ain’t even got started good yet. Can we talk about Domino or not?’
Leo rubbed his shoulder with his free hand then shrugged. ‘I’ve seen her here and there.’
‘You know her pimp?’
‘You mean, do I know him or are we asshole buddies?
‘I mean, do you know him? That’s what I mean.’
‘I know him. We’re not thick.’
‘I got Neil. I need the rest of the name and an address.’ Leo looked down at his foot, tapping his toe gently against the car tyre. ‘This Neil, is he in trouble?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Bad trouble?’
‘If he’s in trouble, it’s bad trouble.’
‘You’re a regular encyclopaedia of facts there, Papa.’
‘If you ain’t wrap-around pals, what’s the difference?’
‘Yeah, I suppose there’s something to that. Okay, his name’s Dantzler. He lives out on Peachtree in The Courtyard.’
The name struck a bell. Papa’s mind dug back as he kept talking.
‘The apartments?’
‘Dantzler lives in a condo.’
‘How about Tiffany? What do you know about her?
‘You’re really fishin’, ain’t you, Papa. From here i’d say you don’t know shit for sure.’
‘If I did, would I be here?’
‘You got a point.’
‘So?’
‘So, Tiffany’s Dantzler’s old lady. She lives in the apartment complex out there, but mostly she uses her pad for tricks. Whenever Dantzler snaps his fingers, she’s up at his
place with her legs spread.’ -
Now Papa remembered why Dantzler’s address had ticked off his memory bank. It was the same complex as Tiffany’s. ‘You mean this Dantzler pimps for his own girlfriend?’
‘You got it. Real sweetheart, right?’
