“Still,” Miles drawls, “this looks bad. We can’t keep using your old tactics for information gathering.”
“Follow my lead.”
The woman stops and leans against the door, a smile across her thin face. “I don’t do group things.”
“I’m just here to watch,” I say.
Miles purses his lips and flushes harder. It amuses me, in a curious way, that after all we’ve been through, he could retain some semblance of innocence.
The girl must find it amusing as well. She giggles, opens the door, and walks into a room that was decorated during the ’70s. Green shag carpeting and faux wood paneling walls. The place will only be complete with a lava lamp. The queen-size bed, to my surprise, is made and neat. Classier than most whorehouses, I suppose.
“So,” the girl begins, “if you’re going to watch, I’m gonna charge extra.”
I shut the door and lock it. “How much for a conversation?”
“Conversation? Whaddya mean?”
She sits on the edge of the bed and crosses her long legs. Miles stands in the shadow of the far corner, his arms folded tight against his chest. He doesn’t look comfortable, that’s for sure, and I walk over to the woman to handle the situation.
“I mean, I want to know what’s going on here in Noimore. I’m sure a smart girl like you sees and hears a few interesting things.”
The woman snorts. “Oh.” She licks her lips as she mulls over my comment. “A hundred for a conversation.”
“Fine.” I pull the money from my wallet and toss it onto her lap. She collects it up and stuffs it into some hideaway shoe pocket.
“’Kay. What’s up?”
“What do you know about the recent kidnappings?”
Her stiff posture and frown tell me she knows something—and that she’s not in the mood to share. I pay attention as she scoots back on the bed and gets comfortable among the pillows.
“I don’t know anything about kidnappings,” she says, a forced disinterest in her voice.
“Bullshit.”
“I don’t.”
“And I don’t believe you. What’s the point of paying you if you’re not gonna talk?”
“I can’t tell ya what I don’t know.”
“What’s your name?” Miles interjects.
The woman hugs a pillow. “Kimmy. But what’s that got to do with kidnappings?” She glares. “You better not be thinkin’ of tryin’ anything. Johnny and Luca will kick your guys’ asses.”
“Is that why you’re inside?” I demand. “So that Johnny and Luca can stop thugs from pickin’ up girls and never returning?”
Kimmy continues her glower. “What does it matter to you guys?”
“Listen, Kimmy….” Miles steps out of the corner and loosens his grip on his arms. He walks over to the bed and takes a seat on the side. “We’re looking for the people who have gone missing. If you have any information, any at all, that would really help us out.”
She regards him with a frown, but her brow furrows as she fidgets with her pillow. “You’re looking for them?”
“Has anyone you know gone missing? A friend, maybe? Could you tell us what anyone was doing before they went missing?”
The mention of “a friend” gets Kimmy quiet. I glance over at Miles, and he gives me a knowing look, like he’s got this situation handled and I can sit it out. I bite my tongue. Maybe his brand of charisma will get more info than my streetwise.
“No,” Kimmy answers. “No one has gone missing.”
Goddammit.
Maybe I should have tried to find someone I know. Then again, the moment anyone knows I’m back in town will be the moment I have to leave the state. Which means I’m stuck trying to convince random people to give me information—and what am I going to give them in exchange? Trust doesn’t come easy when you live life next to gangbangers and thugs.
“What about the Vice family?” Miles asks, shifting gears completely. “Do you know anything about them?”
I hold my breath.
“I only know Jeremy,” Kimmy says, tilting her head from side to side. “Him and his guys run the docks.”
“When did he get out of jail?”
“Six months back, I think. He wasn’t off the streets long.”
“Are his guys running around town or causing trouble? Maybe you’ve seen them ask you, uh, fine young ladies to go with them places.”
Kimmy laughs. She falls across the other pillow. “Us fine young ladies don’t interest Jeremy. And he really doesn’t leave the docks. He’s, like, into shipping and trucks now. The Vice family doesn’t even peddle guns anymore. Just boats and stuff.”
Boats?
Miles and I exchange confused glances.
Since when did the Vice family do stuff with shipping? Then again, Jeremy never knew how to run an operation properly. Maybe he’s making another fucking mistake.
Still—we probably could have figured that out on our own—this girl’s information hasn’t been worth the time or money. “Let’s go,” I say to Miles. “We have places to check out.”
Kimmy snaps her fingers as Miles stands. We both turn to her, confused.
“I want three hundred more,” she says. “For your privacy.”
“What?” I snap.
“Unless you want me talkin’ to all my girlfriends—and my clients—about how some Asian and a guy with a weird eye came asking questions about the Vice family.”
Tsk. Clever bitch. She doesn’t even know how hard she has me over a barrel. I really don’t want that story getting out and around town. But I can’t let her know that.
“I’ll give you fifty,” I say.
Miles whips his attention to me, like I shouldn’t be blasé about the threat, but what else am I going to do? It’s not like I could handle this situation as a thug. I’m a law-abiding citizen now.
“A hundred,” she demands. “And you go out the back door. And pay for a movie.”
Heh. She doesn’t want to go back downstairs and needs some entertainment. I roll my eyes and open my wallet. “Fine,” I state. “A hundred and twenty for your silence.”
I go to toss the money when a crash echoes from the wall. I glance over and hear it again, and this time it shakes
