Between The Lines -- Chapter 6

[parallax23]

 

6: PLACE

“You’re sure this is the place?” Alec asked, his hands tightly on the wheel of the black Mustang Saleen Convertible he was driving.

Max sat beside him with a frustrated expression on her face as she read the house numbers and street signs again. It was the right address. It was everything else that was wrong.

It was a street full of houses surrounded by huge gilded fences and winding driveways. The home Max was looking for in particular was a large Victorian style manor that looked as though it had been untouched the Pulse. Perched atop the fence were several well-placed surveillance cameras that prevented Alec from slowing down or circling back by the place again.

He ended up pulling over to the curb in front of the park just a few blocks away. Though there had been no real plan other than driving by the place and perhaps glimpsing her mother through an open window somewhere, this had definitely caught them off guard.

Max wanted to kick herself for thinking that Tomas would give a real address. But this? No wonder the man had to stick to small time crime. “5715 Watercrest Terrace. That’s the place.”

“Hate to break it to ya Max, but this doesn’t look like the sort of neighborhood a broke ex-dealer would be living in,” Alec said in a dry and condescending tone. “Now, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but – I think we’ve been had.”

Max simply glared at him and pulled out her cell phone. Logan had offered to look into the address, but she didn’t have the patience to wait for his query. Now she would have to see what he’d found.

“Hey there, had a feeling you might call,” Logan’s voice answered after the second ring.

“So I’m guessing you know Tomas used a fake address too?” Max asked pointedly.

“An old Eli buddy of mine mentioned living in Watercrest Terrace before the Pulse,” Logan mentioned, then continued on. “So I did some digging and the property belongs to Len Vogel. He’s one of the biggest crime bosses in San Fran – underground gambling rings, racketeering, weapons possession, you name it and he’s had the charges brought against him.”

“But no one ever has enough proof of anything for it to hold up in court?” Max finished for him with a smile. Alec made a fake gagging face at them and Max turned away from him.

“Now the question is: why would Tomas Ledesma use Len’s address? Even if they were working together, Ledesma is too low on the food chain to attach himself to Len like that,” Logan said.

“Do you think the great Eyes Only could look into it for me?” Max asked.

“He’ll do the best he can. In the meantime, stay away from Len Vogel. He’s not the biggest crime boss in San Francisco for nothing,” Logan replied. “Just be careful.”

“Logan, I can take care of myself,” Max reminded him in an annoyed tone.

“I know. But it doesn’t stop me from worrying,” he said gently. “I’ll call you if I get a lead.”

With no more than that, the conversation was over and Max sat there holding the phone a little longer than she should have.

“So what do we do now?” asked Alec.

Max glared at him. “I’m not leaving this town without finding my mother. I didn’t come this far to just sit on my hands and wait.”

Alec let out a sigh and turned the key in the ignition.

“Where are we going?” asked Max nervously as the car started to move.

Alec smirked. “Logan’s got his sources and I’ve got mine. Whaddaya say?”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve got something to lose,” Max gritted out. “So where are we going?”

He pretended not to hear her as he made a sharp left turn.

After two more left turns and three right ones, into a noisy, crowded street full of shanty town shops. Further down the street, they started to see rundown buildings of a former manufacturing district. Max was seething in anger that he would tell her where they were going, but she could smack him around or he could hit someone or something.

Eventually, they parked in an alley beside a dilapidated brick warehouse with a sign reading ‘Warehouse XXX’ on it. Max rolled her eyes and opened the door to the car to get out.

“Do you have an internal homing device for strip clubs?” Max asked dryly. “How will this help me find Martina? And aren’t all the hookers on strike?”

“I said there was a hooker strike, not prohibition. Besides, not all strippers are hookers,” Alec said as if it was all common knowledge. He walked over to a steel door covered with rust and peeling paint and pulled it open. “My contact should be in here.”

“You never answered my question about the homing device for strip clubs,” Max replied, surveying the inside of the club before stepping in.

It was a backroom full of boxes and chairs and tables stacked on top of each other. The X5s still kept their guard up though no one appeared to be in the room.

“This place is run by someone who works with Len. If your mother is linked to him, maybe someone here might—”

His sentence was cut off by a light clicking sound that wouldn’t have been heard by mere human ears. Max and Alec both stilled and exchanged a look. They knew that sound. It was the sound of the safety coming off a 9mm handgun.

“Who the hell’s back there?” a deep female voice bellowed from the main area that another doorway led to. She must have seen them moving around. “If you’re looking to rob the place, I suggest you try somewhere else. This is Vogel territory.”

Conflicting urges to run and to face this hidden, armed woman warred between them. It didn’t take much to guess which instinct belonged to whom.

“We’re just here for information,” Max shouted at the doorway, receiving a dirty look from Alec.

“It’d be safer to rob the place,” the person shot back. “But if you’re serious, put your weapons on the floor and kick them to the door.”

“We’re unarmed,” Max told the person on the other side.

At the same time, Alec reached under the back of his shirt and pulled out a small handgun. Max scowled at him but he just shrugged nonchalantly as he emptied the magazine and kicked over. He wasn’t dumb enough to hand over a loaded weapon. Or the small firearm still strapped to his left leg. That woman wouldn’t believe they were unarmed. Not in this part of town.

“Thought you said you were unarmed,” the voice said.

“I am. He’s just an idiot,” Max responded, her eyes trained on the hand reaching for the gun.

A woman about the same age as Logan came to the doorway, her gun trained on them as she picked up the gun on the floor. She was about the same height as Max with her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. From the way she was dressed, it was obvious that she was either a waitress or a bartender.

“I’ll be needing that back. I borrowed it off a sector cop and he will not be happy if I don’t bring it back,” Alec quipped.

“Stop talking before I accidentally forget the safety was off,” the woman told him.

“Ignore him,” Max said. “Listen, I’m looking for someone and maybe you or someone around here can help.”

The woman eyed Alec suspiciously. “Then what’s he here for?”

“He’s just here so he can’t get himself into trouble that I’ll have to bail him out of later,” Max explained as if it was a statement of fact.

“Hey, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Alec said.

“Remember when Marina and Lil Sookie tied you to—” Max began the story with an evil smile.

“Typical man,” said the woman, lowering her weapon after deciding that they weren’t there to rob the place. “I’m Frankie. Information has a two drink minimum around here.”

Max nodded. “I’m Max and that’s Alec.”

Alec gave her his best sexy grin, hoping to soften his captor.

Frankie smiled back and Max thought she would gag. “Well, aren’t you pretty. I’m sure the boys back home tip big for you.”

Max laughed as she watched Alec’s face fall. Frankie was all right.

They followed Frankie to the bar. It wasn’t twelve o’clock yet, so the bar was abandoned. The whole place seemed a bit too clean for a strip club. Frankie picked up on their assessment as she took her place behind the counter and they sat down on the stools.

“Business has been slow for the last two weeks with the strike,” she explained. “What’s your poison?”

“Corona—Scotch neat,” Max and Alec said at the same time.

They shot each other annoyed looks. Frankie laughed and pulled out a beer from under the counter before going to get a glass for Alec’s drink.

She nodded toward Alec. “Listen if her name was Arabella and she took your wallet, she doesn’t work for us anymore and don’t ask where to find her. She hasn’t shown up to work since the strike.”

“I wish I could say I got to sample the local culture, but she’s been keeping me on my toes,” Alec gestured at Max in a suggestive manner that earned him a push off the stool and onto the floor.

“You kids from around here?” Frankie asked.

“Seattle,” Max informed her. Alec sat down on another stool two stools away from Max.

Frankie whistled as she poured Alec’s drink. “Quite a way from home. Who’re you looking for anyway? Better yet, why here? Lots of girls come through here because they ain’t got nowhere to go and there ain’t nobody looking for them… Well, not for anything good.”

“Frankie! What the hell is a Mustang doing here? I told you to call me if Carter showed up,” bellowed a man coming in from the back room.

Max cringed. She that voice. And that bad hair.

It was the greasy guy from the bus.

When he entered the room, his eyes went straight to Max and a lecherous smiled followed. If looks could kill, Alec would have died several lifetimes over on that bar stool from the glare Max was giving him. Alec impassive face could only mean one thing. This was his contact?!

“Well, well, well. Looks like you couldn’t stay away from me after all,” he said, deciding to walk closer to her.

Max shot the man a murderous look that made him rethink getting any nearer than he was.

“Burt, you know these guys?” Frankie asked in a surprised voice. “Max and Alec?”

“They were on the bus with me from Seattle,” Burt replied, turning his head to acknowledge Alec’s presence.

“I’m hurt. I thought I meant more to you than that,” quipped Alec, taking another sip from his drink.

“You better be paying for that. And don’t forget the tip,” Burt said in a huff. Then he gestured at Max. “Hers is on the house.”

“Ah yes, free beer is the way to a woman’s pants, not her heart. How’s that for a tip?” said Alec.

Burt opened his mouth to make some sort of retort, but Max cut him off.

“Listen, we’re just here to get some info on a person and bounce,” Max informed him. “Either you know something about Martina Ledesma, or you don’t.”

“Real diplomatic there Max,” Alec said as he swirled the fine layer of amber-colored alcohol left in his glass.

“Shut up,” she spat, and then turned to Frankie and Burt trying to see their reaction. She caught a glimpse of them exchanging a knowing look.

“Martina Ledesma? Does she go by anything else?” asked Frankie, her voice was a little strained in trying to keep the tone even.

“I don’t know what her stripper name is, if that’s what you’re asking,” Max replied.

“Don’t know her,” Frankie responded. She picked up a towel on the counter and started wiping glasses. She didn’t even look at Max.

Even Burt seemed a bit put out by the question. Alec and Max exchanged suspicious glances.

“Martina was a friend of my mother’s, and I just wanted to see her since I lost my mother. That’s all,” Max lied, making sure to keep her voice small and sympathetic.

“I don’t know Martina personally, but I know that the name Ledesma is trouble,” Burt said firmly. “And not the kind of trouble I’m willing to get tangled in.”

Max bristled at their refusal. “I’m not looking for trouble. I’m looking for my family.”

“What’s the difference?” asked Alec. Max hopped off her stool and smacked him across the head.

Frankie slammed down the glass she was holding in frustration. “I want you out of here now. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll never say the name Ledesma around here again.”

Max recoiled and took a step away from the other woman. Whatever it was about the Ledesma clan, it obviously had them spooked. Maybe an incentive would help. “How much you want?”

“How much you got?” Burt asked, shamelessly eyeing her up and down for the tenth time since he had arrived.

Max made a disgusted face.

“Burt!” Frankie scolded.

“Stay out of it,” he shot back.

Frankie shot him a dirty look, then right before going into the back storage room said, “I hope you catch something from the hooker you blow that money on.”

“Two hundred would do? Half up front, half more if I decide if your information is worth my time,” Max told him.

Burt scoffed.

Max gritted her teeth. “Two-fifty?”

“Three hundred and one performance here tonight,” was his counteroffer.

“Trust me, the two-fifty was the better offer,” Alec interjected and received an elbow to the ribs.

“Usually, I wouldn’t be caught saying this, but you should listen to Alec,” Max said.

“Then why you’d hit me?” demanded Alec.

“Two-fifty and you two work the nightshift here serving drinks and helping in the back pro bono,” Burt said.

“Great,” mumbled Alec. “It’s every guy’s dream job to work at a strip club with no strippers.”

“We’ll take it,” Max said. “Now tell me what you know about the Ledesmas. Everything.”

“Payment upfront policy here,” Burt informed her. “I won’t be telling you a thing until your shifts are up, that way you won’t leave me high and dry. Be here at six o’clock sharp. And feel free to wear whatever you think will land you the most tips.”