Where The Devil Won't Go: A Lucas Peyroux Novel (24 page)

“Tell me about Mistress Haley.”

“Haley? The dancer that turned up dead?”

“So, you know her. This is a promising start.”

“I did not kill her. We had sex. That was
all.” His aging skin hung off his face.

“Of course you’re going to deny killing
her, Senator. I’m about to pop off your fingernails one by one.”

“All I have is my word. I’m a senator,
damn it. Why would I risk my career by killing someone?”

“It’s because you’re a senator that you
can kill someone. People like Ray Corondelet will always clean up your messes.
Oh, well.” She zipped the mouth closed and stuck the tip of the blade halfway
up his thumbnail before he could wiggle it away.

The mask muted the old man’s agonizing
screams. His bloody hand jolted from her grasp and she exhaled, making a show
of her patience. When his moaning subsided, she unzipped the mask while blood
dripped on the corner of the mattress.

He whispered, “If I say anything, they’ll
kill me or disgrace me and my career.”

“Then the question is: when do you want
to die? Because if you’re still not talking by the time I’m done, I’m killing
you anyway. You tell me what I want to know, you’ll live through the night.”

“This isn’t happening. I’m a very
powerful man.” But his failing voice betrayed that statement.

Cozy zipped the mouth shut again and
secured his arm under her armpit. When she couldn’t get him to unclench his
smeared red fist, she jabbed the knife between his knuckles like she was
shucking an oyster. When his hand opened, she ran the knife under the exposed
thumbnail again. With a full body jolt, he gazed at the nail that resembled the
open hood of a car.

After a series of growling muffled cries,
she unzipped the mask for him to speak, this time as a weak, scared old man.
“Okay, I’ll tell you everything. Okay? Please.”

“Just remember that I already know a lot.
If you lie, you lose another nail. Go.”

“Haley was going to be sold.”

“Sold?”

“It’s the truth. Some of the girls that
come to these parties get sold. I don’t know to who.”

“Like slaves?”

“Sex slaves. Most girls return home so as
not to draw suspicion, but the special ones are offered to the highest bidder.
The party’s like an audition. And like an auction.”

“I believe you. The thing I want to know
is who was selling her and who was buying her.”

“I don’t know. Foreigners come to this. I’m
not involved in that.”

Cozy took his pinky finger and brought
the knife to rest under his nail.

He shrunk like a slug with salt. “The
girls are kept in a warehouse on the Apex Industries property until they decide
to move them.”

“Where’s that?”

“It’s the Claiborne Container Terminal on
the river… Right off Napoleon.”

“Who’s in charge there?”

“I don’t know anyone from Apex. I just
know the girls are brought there because the place is immune from inspections.
It’s protected.”

“I’m pleased with your cooperation. Go
on.”

Saliva collected on the mouth slit of the
mask. He stammered, “When they get enough girls, they put them in a cargo
container to be shipped. Sometimes mass quantities of girls are imported, but
they don’t come to these parties. I hear some of the less desirable ones are
donors for black market body parts. Ray controls that. I don’t buy or sell; I
just participate.”

“You sick freaks. Why was Haley killed if
she was going to be sold?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she fought back or
pissed someone off. Maybe she knew what was happening and slashed her own face.”
His body bounced as he sobbed. “I swear she was alive when I left her.”

Cozy backed away, and sat, pulling off
her stilettos with eyes on Folsom. His body sagged like Jesus on the cross. She
put her regular dress back on, and then searched Folsom’s coat pockets until
finding his cell phone. “I’ll bet you’re very photogenic. Does your wife and
kids know how photogenic you are?”

His voice calmed, speaking like a father.
“There is no place on earth for you to hide. These men will find you and kill
you, you know. Or sell you like the others.”

Cozy looked outside the window to the
tree with its outstretched limbs. “You let me worry about that. I’ll be long
gone before they feel the need to bust down the door.”

“You don’t need to send those pictures… My
wife already knows.”

“Really. Don’t worry, Senator. If your
information pans out, I’ll destroy the pictures and video. But, if
you’re
lying, well, the American public would like to know
the habits of their elected officials. I’m turning your GPS off, too.”

#

The light flashed on. Ray’s pupils reacted
to an explosion as intense as the Hiroshima bomb. Despite feeling like tiny
laser beams had seared his brain, he needed to see who had entered his home.
Fearful that Cozy had returned, he stayed still – not that he had a
choice.

“Aren’t you a sight?” The tape was ripped
off his lips.

“About time you got here. Get something
to cut me loose… and get me some water. God, I’m fucking thirsty.”

“Let me guess… Cozy Robicheaux,
vigilante.”

Ray’s eyes had finally adjusted to the
light. “When I get my hands on her, I’m going to skin her, and then kill her.”

“No, you won’t. She’s worth too much. So,
what’d you give up? Did you tell her anything?”

“Nothing of real importance.” His head
rotated in a stretch.

“You’re lying.”

“I told her nothing,” he insisted.

“So, she left you here alive and left with
nothing.”

Ray squinted. “Yeah… She’s got nothing.”

“Then, you’re a lucky bastard. I just got
a call; she worked the same magic on Folsom, but he spilled his guts. He’s got
to make up some reason why he lost a thumbnail and got fifteen stitches on
three of his fingers.”

“It only took three fingers for him to
cave? Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”

“More bad news. She’s in the wind.”

“She escaped the party? How incompetent
can your guys be?”

His associate looked closer between Ray’s
legs. “She got away from
you
. But
unlike you, Folsom didn’t get waxed or have his nut sack torn off. Ah, it’s not
that bad, but it looks like she took a lawnmower to you.”

“Cut me out of this tape, damn it.” He
tried to rock his body. “Do you at least have your people looking for her?”

“The senator told Cozy about the
operation. We’re moving the girls tonight.”

“That spineless bastard.” He struggled
against the tape again. “We need to find her before she goes to the wrong cops
or finds a news station for Christ’s sake.”

“Relax, she hasn’t shown her face yet.
Believe me, I’d know.”

“Why does it seem like you’re enjoying my
pain? How many times do I have to say it? Get me out of this fucking duck
tape.” Ray shook violently, but failed to move the dense, metal chair.

“Not until I talk sense into you. You
can’t kill her, Ray. She can’t even have a bruise.”

“I’ll find another one just as hot for
the buyer. Jesus, they’re crawling all over the Quarter.”

“You aren’t thinking straight.”

“Fine.” He made a point to show that his
breathing relaxed. “I’ll track her down tonight and deliver her to Apex. Just
cut me loose, please.”

“And where do you plan on looking, Ray?”
His partner waited. “Whether she goes back to Manchac or appears on Peyroux’s
doorstep, we’ll reel her in at a later date. After that, we should probably
cool it for a while.”

“Huh?”

“The gasket’s leaking. We need to stop
and seal the leaks.”

“Are you that naïve to think we’re going
to stop?”

“You’re not the one who makes the final
decision.”

Ray’s eyes became soft. “We plow on.
These parties, these girls, the money… We’re a good team with a network of
powerful people that look out for us. Don’t freak out on me now.”

“True, but this is the closest an
investigation has ever come. Even the Feds can’t get them to stop. A friggin’
car bomb can’t get him to stop.”

“The Feds are a means to an end. We
operate under a huge umbrella. We’re fine. Cut me loose.”

“You’re okay?”

“Yes. You talked me down. The important
thing is to get the shipment out. Then regroup.”

“Don’t expect me to be gentle.”

“Does it look like I’ve just had a bubble
bath? Rip it the fuck off.”

“Let me get a knife.” Dress shoes tapped
across hardwood, returning from the kitchen with a pair of scissors instead. “I
figured this might work better, considering your night.”

 
Once the tape had been cut away from his wrists, ankles and
chest, his visitor left. Ray stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his body
vibrating in a rage. His skin appeared to have melted in some spots and his
remaining body hair was mangy, with lacerations and bruises on his face. He
couldn’t go to the hospital. Best to take pain pills, clean up, and bandage the
bad areas. After he retrieved the stolen client list Cozy found in the safe, he
had to make sure that bitch suffered an excruciating death.

#

Walking on the side of the unlit road in
the middle of nowhere reminded Cozy of the myth about the teenaged girl walking
home from prom in a bloody dress, who is picked up by a stranger in a passing
car. When the driver finally pulled up to the girl’s address, she had
disappeared from his front seat. He then learns from the people living at the
house that their daughter had been killed the year before hitchhiking from the
prom. She felt chills shudder up and down her spine.

It took an hour of trudging along the
side of the road towards Uptown before finding an open cab to take her to the
hotel room. She changed into jeans and a T-shirt, grabbed her purse carrying
the gun, and kissed the alligator pendant before headed toward the club. One
last
stop
before this whole thing came to a head.

The finality of her mission loomed. With
a Saints cap and fake Walgreens glasses, she hiked into the heart of the
Quarter, weaving in and out of faceless pedestrians on Bourbon, as it was
blocked off to traffic at night. The crowd-heavy street allowed for perfect
cover until entering Molly’s Girls like any other dancer. She pulled her cap
and glasses off and stopped at the bar. “Can I get a cup of water, Chris? I’m
here to see Tabitha. She’s in the back?

He slid the water to her. “Yeah, she’s
back there.”

Cozy walked into Tabby’s office and
closed the door, falling against it with her back. “Thank God you’re here.
Jesus, what a trip.”

Tabby was on her cell, but held up a
finger to Cozy. “Just calm down.
Breathe
Ray… breathe.
Yeah… That’s right… Okay.” She hung up and threw the phone down. “That was Ray.
He’s lost it. He’s got his gun and he’s out looking for you because you
tortured him. Cozy, you lied to me.”

“I gave you deniability. Where is he
now?”

“He wouldn’t say, but he was just on the
phone calming down Senator Folsom, who you also tortured. Cozy, I don’t think
you’re going to make it out of this alive.” Her hands wiped down each side of
her face, waiting for a response.

“If not, so be it. But, they’re going to get
a hell of a fight.” She gripped her purse.

“Well, I expect Ray to show up here at
some point.” Tabby stared at her.

“I better not be here when he does.”

“Want to tell me about Folsom?”

“Likes to be dominated. Yet doesn’t like
real pain.”

“Is that all?” Tabby perked up straight,
waiting in silence. Cozy scooted forward, holding back the tears. She reached
out her hands and Tabby hesitated in reciprocation, but caved. “Talk to me.”

“You ever wonder why some of your dancers
don’t come back from these parties?”

Tabby pulled her hands back and turned
away. “Ray says they quit.”

“He sells them, Tabby. They get sold and
shipped to Russia, Brussels, fucking Prague. Some stay right here in the United
States. Can you believe that?
In our own country.
That
senator told me everything, and believe me, Dick Cheney couldn’t have got more
out of him. Haley was going to be sold before they murdered her. Doesn’t that
piss you off?”

“Sold? No, Ray would never sell his
girls. Would he? Oh, God.”

“It’s true.”

“True or not, these are very dangerous
people. They will kill you if they don’t already have a bounty on your head.”

“I don’t have a lot of time, then.”

“I had to tell the cops about the party,
but I also had to call them to shut it down. The police are probably at the mansion
right now, but these guys prepare for these situations with a clean -up crew.
They won’t find anything, so my guess is those detectives are coming right back
here.”