Tailspin

"Boss lady is waiting for you," the heavily armed guard said to me.

Lily's office door was open. She had her back to me sitting behind a cherrywood desk as she barked orders on her cell phone in Chinese. Her "assistant" Jasmine was kneeling on the floor in the corner of the office, her face impassive even though I was looking straight at her. Jasmine was Lily's driver, assistant and sex slave (and occasionally DaVanna's "date"). She wore a diamond choker that to the uneducated was a beautiful piece of jewelry. But to those who knew, it was an obedience collar that manifested Jasmine's unquestioned fealty to her Mistress.

Lily swiveled around in her chair as she terminated her call.

"Max, how lovely to see you," she said in perfect English, tinged with a British accent which betrayed her boarding school upbringing in Hong Kong. Though she was a Mistress, she carried herself as if she was a Queen.

"And you Lily," I said, repressing the urge to bow.

"You're here to see me about Jumbo," she said.

I was beyond getting surprised when Lily had the jump on me. She all but admitted she had a well-placed mole in our station and knew everything about what I was up to.

"Of course you knew," I said, reluctantly praising her for her source of intelligence.

"Of course," she said. "So you want to know if it was me."

"I do."

"It was. Jumbo was a temporary obstacle. I just needed to get him out of the way so I could finish taking over the drug trade in the West End. The gun charge was an unexpected bonus."

"You used Chili to do it," I said. Chili was the head of security for Jumbo, but now was in Lily's pocket. Chili had access to all of Jumbo's properties, including his mother's house. He was the logical person to pull off the frame job.

Lily smiled at me. "Max, a girl can't share all of her secrets. Where's the fun in that?"

"All right," I said. "It doesn't matter. What does matter is that Jumbo will be out on the street. I don't want a gang war."

"Oh Max, it's so sweet of you to worry about me. Don't. I knew that Jumbo's incarceration was a temporary solution. I have a permanent one."

"And you won't share that with me?"

"Of course not."

I figured that was as much as I was going to get out of her on her future plans. I thought I'd tease her to see if I could make headway into the identity of the leak in my department.

"I've been collecting a bit of information on Jumbo myself. Unofficially of course since the investigation is supposed to be closed."

"Is that so?" she asked.

"I thought maybe, at the right time, I might share it with you."

Of course I was bluffing, I didn't have shit on Jumbo, but she didn't know that. Two could play poker.

"How kind of you," she said dismissively. She feigned disinterest, but I knew the wheels were turning in her head on how she could lay her hands on my secret information. Obviously her informant had no inkling of this intelligence because it didn't exist. I knew that Lily was obsessed with knowing everything about me, and not knowing this would drive her crazy.

I decided to change the subject now that I'd baited the hook. Since DaVanna didn't tell me anything of substance while she was insulting Sky and me, maybe Lily would be forthcoming about her new "girlfriend." I wondered if it was a genuine romantic relationship or simply a business transaction.

"So how's DaVanna?" I asked.

"She's well," said Lily, remaining closed lipped.

"Not disappointed that you cleared her little sister of Andrea Hillman's murder?"

It was the murder that DaVanna tried to pin on Alessandra.

"Maybe a little, but she'll get over it."

"What's she doing these days to keep busy? I presume she's not a kept woman?"

Lily laughed at my suggestion. "DaVanna's building her own base of operations. That's about all I can tell you. You saw her last night. Why didn't you ask her yourself?

"Because she never gave me a chance. She made a pass at my girlfriend and left."

My comment elicited a chuckle. For a moment, I saw her as a beautiful, vivacious woman, and not as a cruel and heartless criminal.

"That's DaVanna. I think you've gotten under her skin."

"You know I'm going to get her again."

"I'm counting on you trying."

A dead end, but I expected it.

"But you're at the top of my list," I told her. I wondered what I would feel like after I'd busted her. Maybe like the dog that catches the bus.

"Oh Max, it's flattering to be on your 'Most Wanted' list. I'm just wondering if you want me as much as I want you. And besides, I told you that you wouldn't be able to lay a finger on me . . . except if I want you to."

That last little remark was dripping with sexual innuendo. What a fucking tease. But of course she did ensnare me, not once but twice, so the teasing was effective.

"I don't think I could handle another time," I said to her.

"I'll be the judge of that," said Lily. "Good day Max."

The judges scored that round for Lily.

Chapter Two

When it Rains, It Pours

All was well in my world, which was worrisome. Every time I felt the waters were stilled, a rock, or in some cases a boulder, would upset the tranquility of the smooth waters. Such was the case after I'd had an enjoyable dinner at Alessandra and Lesley's house and was meeting Sky for a drink at Bailey's.

I was sitting at the bar, nursing a drink. Sky was twenty minutes late, which was unlike her. I was about to give her a call when she showed up at the bar, her eyes reddened and her cheeks tear stained. I knew it wasn't going to be good and it wasn't.

She practically fell into my arms sobbing.

"Max . . ." Nothing more came out. The sobs strangled all the words she wanted to say.

"Hey honey," I said to her in a calm voice. "Let's go to my booth and talk."

Maddy had a permanent "reserved" sign on one of the booths in the back of the bar. It was reserved for me. I gathered her in my arms and led her to the booth. I sat on the same side as she did and held her tight.

"Now tell me what's going on." I signaled to Maddy to bring us a couple shots of whiskey.

"He . . . he . . . touched me," she finally choked out.

"Who's he?" I demanded.

"Bobby . . . Bobby . . ."

Bobby?

It was obviously that motherfucker Bobby Bickel, the head of Homicide and a fat fuck I already wanted to punch in the face. He was an arrogant little prick who surrounded himself with yes men. Sky was the junior member of that department, and the only woman. An easy target for a group of misogynistic men.

"What did he do?"

"We . . . we . . . we were sitting on a sofa in the break room . . . and he put his hand inside my pants . . . and . . . and . . ." She broke down again.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. Bobby was practically untouchable and he knew it. He was delivering the numbers for the Chief, and that made him impervious to this "he said she said" kind of bullshit. Bobby would simply deny it, and who would the Chief believe? His guy or the word of a rookie police officer who was still wet behind the ears? If Sky levelled charges, it would be a death sentence for her career.

"What should I do?" Sky asked me. I looked into her teary eyes and I wanted to go to Bobby's house and rip his fucking lungs out. I suppressed the urge, though it took some effort. I had to have my head on straight to deal with this.

"Nothing," I said. "Nothing for now. I think we need to figure this out."

"Figure it out? What does that mean?"

"It means that we need to figure out how to fuck him up the ass with a baseball bat."

It was that simple. The devil was going to be in the details.

"We can do that?" she asked, bleary eyed. She was never lacking for self-confidence, but all I saw was a vulnerable woman who had just experienced serious trauma. I wanted to assure her that all would be fine.

"Of course we can honey. It's what Max specializes in."

I gave her a big hug. I was already plotting her revenge.

Max Pemberton, protector of women.

* * *

I drove Sky home and needed a few drinks to clear my head of the stench created by Bobby and his little sausage sized fingers inside my honey's pants. The visual made me want to puke. I drove to my neighborhood liquor store, not far from the Royal Palms. As usual, there were a handful of prostitutes plying their trade in the parking lot. Most of their johns would buy a bottle and then go to the Royal Palms to get a blowjob in the parking lot or more if they rented a room. I spotted Sharon, one of the regulars, there in a tube top, pink hot pants, and white vinyl boots.

"Hey Sharon, come over here," I called out to her from my car. She broke away from two of the other girls and strutted over to my car. Sharon was still a looker, maybe in her twenties, but wise beyond her years. I'd heard Bobby's name mentioned more than once by the working girls. I watched over them and they provided me with information.

Sharon leaned on the window sill of my car. Her tube top rode up and exposed a good part of her breasts. "What's up Max?" she asked. She snapped the gum she was chewing.

"Bobby Bickel."

A smile came to her face. She blew a bubble that popped. "That fat fuck."

Looked like there was a consensus on Bobby. "Uh huh," I grunted.

"I've done a few tricks with him."

"Do tell," I said to her.

"Sometimes he hires two of us. Always flashes money. Usually has coke with him. We party and then he'll either fuck us or watch us eat each other's pussies while he jerks off."

"Sounds like a delightful person."

"He pays cash, and his coke is always first rate."

"I may need a favor from you."

I'd gotten Sharon out of lock-up more than once. She owed me.

"Anything for you Max."

"I'll let you know."

She stood up and straightened her tube top to cover her tits. "OK Max, see you around."

* * *

The liquor store was empty. Nigel, my favorite Brit, was dusting off the shelves behind the counter. He turned around when he heard me come in.

"Max! You're a sight for sore eyes." His eyes sparkled. Cute guy, in a gangly, rumpled sort of way.

"How so?" I asked. For most people, I was the last person they wanted to see.

"I am bored out of my mind. Just me and this stupid television set. Haven't had a customer in two hours."

"What about the girls outside?"

He laughed. "I can't afford them. It would be two or three day's pay."

"I know most of them," I said, pointing outside. Through the plate glass window you could see them smoking cigarettes and laughing. "Maybe I can get you a 'friends and family' discount."

He laughed harder. "Honestly Max, where do you come up with this shit? Discounted prostitution services?"

"Why pay full price?"

He put his finger on his chin. "You do have a point there."

"How goes it with your girlfriend?" He'd told me that he followed his girlfriend from London to Cincinnati. That's why he was here, manning a twenty-four hour liquor store in the shittiest part of town.

"Not so well. She dumped me a while ago. She met some guy who has a lot of money."

"Maybe I could arrest him, you know a drug charge or something like that," I joked.

"Not necessary Max. If I can't hold onto her myself, she's not worth keeping."

So true. That applied to Courtney and practically every other girlfriend I've ever had. I was hoping that Sky was the one, but I knew deep down that somehow I'd find a way to fuck it up.

"So you going back to London?"

"You're not going to believe this when I say it," he said.

"What's that?"

"I like it here."

"You mean like, right here?" I said, pointing to his place behind the counter.

He chuckled. "Well, not exactly that, though I enjoy your company. I like being in the States. To have a car. To drive out into the country. I never owned a car before. And the girls here. Truth be told, I don't think I'll have a problem finding female companionship, notwithstanding your discounted prostitution offer." He flashed a winning smile.

"You are a good looking guy. Hey, if I wasn't gay I'd fuck you," I told him.

More giggles. "That's very reassuring Max. Discounted prostitution. Being solicited by a lesbian police officer. You've certainly made my day."

"Speaking of making my day, I came in here to buy a couple pints."

"That rubbish you drink?"

"Of course," I answered. It was vodka, vodka, vodka for me. He knew it.

"I've got just the thing. The manager told me to close out these vodkas. I've marked them down to $2 a bottle. I can give you a dozen for twenty dollars."

It was my lucky day. That saved me at least fifty bucks. I wanted to buy Sky something nice.

"Sold."

"You don't even want to see them?" he asked.

"Do they contain alcohol?"

"Yes."

"Then no."

He gave me the biggest chuckle of the night. "Fine Max. You know what you want. I'll bag them up."

"I do and I don't. Sometime Nigel you don't want what you wish for."

* * *

I got back to the Royal Palms around ten. The parking lot was starting to buzz. I spotted Sharon near the office with a john in tow. A guy was shooting up on the sidewalk. Business as usual. I climbed the outside stairs to the second floor. My heart started pounding when I saw the shadowy outline of a person sneak around the corner as I came up. I dashed up the stairs with my hand on my gun, ready to draw it out. When I got to the top of the stairs, the person had vanished. I ran to all the logical exits and found no one. Whoever it was knew this place and knew the quickest way to get out without attracting any attention.

I wondered if it was my apartment. I thought no because everyone who lived there (and most folks in the area) knew I lived there and I was a cop. There were plenty of other people to rob who didn't have the Cincinnati police department behind them. No one (that is no one except DaVanna) had tried to fuck with me at the Royal Palms because I had all the West End cops behind me.

I always used a hair to lodge between the door and the jamb to see if anyone was in my room. I knew it wasn't the motel cleaning staff. They worked during daylight hours. I squatted down and noticed the hair was gone. Although my room was a mess, I could tell that someone had been through my stuff. Probably one of Lily's people. The bait on the hook had worked. Whoever it was, they'd be back.

I turned on the baseball game. The Reds game was over and they were already on the post-game breakdown of the Reds latest loss. I unscrewed one of the vodka bottles. "Andropov Peppermint Flavored Vodka." Believe it or not, it wasn't half bad. I drank the first bottle while mapping out my strategy to butt fuck Bobby Bickel. It brought a smile to my face to imagine what his reaction would be if my plan worked. Then I thought about Sky, and how upset she was. Bobby, that motherfucker. My Sky was a bright, hardworking person and could have been a great member of his team. Instead he'd rather stick his finger in her pussy. That finger fuck was going to cost him dearly.

My blood pressure was up, so I used a second bottle to bring me down. It was closing in on midnight when I finished the second bottle. The sweet numbness of alcohol made me think of Sky and her perfect young body, the smell of youth, and the lustful gaze from her that I earned when I showed her how to properly make love to a woman.

* * *

The next morning I was badly hung over. I opened the curtains. Big mistake. The bright sunshine almost blinded me. My head started throbbing. I had to get my donut and coffee before my head exploded.

It was a short five minute drive to Happy Donut. It was 5:30 a.m., and Bea had just turned the sign inside the door from "Closed" to "Open." I felt close to Binh, a Vietnamese refugee whose Americanized name was Bea, since I started going there as a cadet in the police academy. Bea always told it like it was.

"Hey Bea," I said to her when I opened the door. I was greeted with the smell of freshly fried donuts.

"Hi Officer Max," she said in heavily accented English. She looked carefully at my face. "You no look so good."

"Just a few drinks last night," I said.

"Each drink this tall?" she asked, holding her hands one on top of the other about a foot apart. She knew I was a heavy drinker.

"Well, maybe."

"Drinking no good."

"I know."

"You no listen to yourself."

"Rarely," I admitted.

She brought a cup of coffee and a chocolate old fashioned to my usual table next to the shop's large plate glass window.

"I worry for you Officer Max."

"Thank you Bea."

I worried about myself as well. Unfortunately for me, worrying never translated to action, at least where I was concerned.

"Girl trouble?" she asked, hitting the nail on the head.

"It is Bea."

"You figure it out. You always do."

I wish I had as much confidence as she did.

* * *

I was driving to the station with an extra coffee and donut for Lesley. My cell phone chimed. I glanced at the screen. It was a text from Candy. I pulled over.

Call me now

Fuck. Candy never texted me. Not since we broke up. She was still on my favorites list. I called her.

"Max . . ." She was sobbing uncontrollably. "Max . . . "

Shit, was this "crying to Max" week? I waited for a minute for her to collect herself.

"Maddy . . ."

"What about Maddy?"

"She's dead . . . oh God she's dead . . . Max . . ."

Jesus fucking Christ. I was desperately hoping I was dreaming and about to wake up.

"Where are you?"

"Where am I?"

I could hear people talking in the background.

"I'm . . . I'm at the bar . . . I'm at Bailey's . . . Maddy . . . she's dead Max . . ."

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

* * *

The scene at the bar was pandemonium. Even though it was morning and the bar was usually closed, there were at least twenty people inside, mostly police, some I recognized and some I didn't. At the center was Bobby Bickel. I saw that the door to the downstairs storage area was open, and temporary flood lights were placed in there. It gave the stairwell an eerie white glow. I jostled my way through the crowd to find Candy, who was sitting in my booth with her head down on the table. I shook her shoulder.

"Candy . . . Candy . . . it's me Max."

She popped her head up. Her eyes were red and puffy. Her eye liner had run down her face. She hugged me.

"Max . . . Max . . . thank God you're here."

"When did this happen?"

"I discovered her a few hours ago. I called 911. The paramedics came here. She was down at the bottom of the stairs . . . on the landing . . . she was carrying a case of beer and must have fallen on the way up. She was dead when I found her. No pulse. I think she broke her neck. Max . . ."

She started crying again.

"Sit tight Candy. Let me talk to some folks," I told her. I pointed to Bickel.

"Max . . . he's the one who told me not to call you . . . I did anyway . . . that's why it took so long for you to find out."

I wondered why Bickel would say that. He was in the middle of a spirited discussion with a field staffer from the coroner's office.

". . . obviously an accident . . ." I overheard Bobby say.

The man from the coroner's office said something I couldn't hear.

"God damn it . . . I don't care about that. Can't you see the poor woman fell?" Bobby argued.

Bickel spotted me listening in.

"What the fuck do you want Pemberton? You're in my crime scene," he said angrily to me.

"So there was a crime?" I asked.

His face got red. "That's for me to determine. Get the fuck out of here."

"I'm a friend of the family," I said, pointing to Candy.

"I don't care if you're the fucking Pope. What part of 'get the fuck out of here' do you not understand?"

I guess all of it. But that answer wouldn't please him and there were at least five uniformed officers there who would escort my ass out of the bar.