Already Dead

why. Which gets us to the last thing. The last thing was some trouble Chubby had some months back. He wanted someone heavy to take care of it, heavy but subtle. He called me.

He's pretty careful about the talent he hires, handles all the interviews and casting himself. But sometimes something slips through the cracks. What slipped through the cracks this time was a guy who specialized in hard- core bondage scenarios. He was an expert with ropes and racks and such. Good with a knife, too, cut so thin the marks were gone in a couple weeks. He did a couple photo sessions for Chubbs and shot a video and that was it. Few weeks later a couple of Chubby's girls went missing. Not that unusual in this business, but these were two of his regular girls, girls who were part of the family here. He gave me a call and asked if I'd take a look. I went through the employment records and checked up on the short hires over the last month. I made some house calls.

The third house I called on was on Staten Island, the bondage expert. Chubby loaned me his car and driver so I wouldn't have to rely on the ferry. We drove out and I knocked and the door was answered by the bondage guy. I didn't even need to ask any questions, I could smell the girls' fear-sweat, urine, and feces reeking all the way from the basement. He thought he was smooth. He invited me in, anything to help. As soon as the door closed behind us I took care of him. Then I went down to the basement, got the girls upstairs and into the car and told the driver to take them to Chubby. After he pulled away I went back in the house and rigged the creep so it looked like he had broken his own neck doing an autoerotic asphyxiation gig with one of his nooses. When Chubby asked me what he owed, I told him it was on the house.

– I told you that was on the house, Chubbs.

– Nonetheless.

– Yeah, sure, if it makes you feel better, we have a clean slate on this.

He smiles.

– Excellent. I always felt bad that you wouldn't take payment on that, Joe. I wouldn't want you thinking you owed me anything on this girl. And I know taking a freebie isn't in your nature.

– Whatever you say, Chubbs. I just need to know what you can tell me about her.

– Of course.

He inhales deeply, casts his eyes to the ceiling and exhales,

– Under normal circumstances I would not have these details in mind, but after I heard the news I thought it expedient to review Whitney's employment records, before I disposed of them.

– Good thinking.

He waves a fat hand in the air.

– Simple professionalism. In any case. Whitney came to me just about a year ago. She was striking and uninhibited and I didn't have any girls around doing the goth thing at the time. Better yet, she looked quite a bit younger than her nineteen years. Always a bonus.

– What did she do?

– Nothing too outre.

– Outre? -It means-

– I know what it means, Chubbs, I'm just impressed at the way your vocabulary is growing.

– One cannot wallow in one's past, Joe, or one will stagnate.

– Nice.

He gestures to a beat-up dictionary on his desk.

– A word a day, that's my rule. What did you think, that I would spend the rest of my life calling people mah nigga? Self-improvement is one of the few strategies a black man can use to advance in America. And I am advancing, Joe.

– Sorry I asked.

– My apologies, I didn't mean to lecture.

– Whitney Vale.

– Yes, Whitney. Nothing too outre. As it was she was heavily pierced and tattooed, to put her in leather would have been redundant. In her first session we tried two styles: the Catholic schoolgirl, and the ravishing romantic. The contrasts with her natural esthetic were striking in both costumes, but, unsurprisingly, she soon developed a following for the schoolgirl look. We found some counterparts for her, male and female, and shot a few videos.

– What was her demographic?

– A young, troubled-looking girl in a plaid skirt? I assume it will come as no surprise that most of her fans had daddy as part of their screen names.

– Could you get me a list?

– As I said, I thought it best to delete her files and records.

He pats his slightly graying fro.

– I could perhaps put together a list of similarly inclined customers? No doubt some of them were amongst her adoring public.

I think about weeding through a list of middle-aged pervs, trying to cull something useful, being eaten from the inside by the Vyrus all the while.

– Never mind.

– Anything else, Joe?

– Know anything about the guy selling nudies of Vale over the Internet?

He shakes his head.

– I expect it is one of her fans who had downloaded her images and now wants to turn a profit off of tragedy. I of course had all of her material purged along with her records. Only prudent.

I take out the picture of the Horde girl and toss it on the desk, making sure it lands close enough to him that he won't have to stretch for it.

– Know her?

He picks it up. Looks.

– I'd say not.

– Maybe without the makeup?

He looks again, squints. Tosses the picture back.

– I'd still say not. That said?

– Yeah?

– This is a high-turnover business and I see a great many waifs looking for a career or extra income. The ones clearly too young, such as this child, are politely rejected at the door. It is possible she crossed the threshold without my knowing.

I take the picture from his desktop and slip it back in my jacket.

– Got it.

He glances at his watch.

– If that's all, Joe?

– Yeah. Thanks.

He leans forward, extending his hand across the desk, sweating from the effort. I take his hand.

– You know, Whitney went out awfully hard for such a young thing, Joe.

I take my hand back.

– What I hear, Chubbs, it had to be that way. What I hear, she was a sick girl and she's better off the way it went.

His hand flies to his mouth.

– Oh, Joe, not that.

– That's just what I hear.

I head for the door.

– You take care of this, Joe, take care of it for good and well.

I stop, the door half open.

– I'm workin' on it.

He puts his eyes on mine.

– Mah nigga.