Little Girl Lost (Hard Case Crime) by Richard Aleas Read Free Book Online

you’d better believe I’m not coming back. I thought about quitting early, but I don’t want to do anything to rock the boat.”
    “Do you know if it’s true, what Miranda said about the owner? Are the dancers moving drugs for him?” An image from the prior night came back to me, the businessmen in suits, coming and going, when you’d normally expect a more downscale crowd at a club like the Sin Factory. The addition of drugs to the picture went a long way toward explaining what guys with money in their wallets might be doing there.
    “I haven’t seen it. Of course, maybe they stopped after the murder because there were police all over the place. I wasn’t there long enough before it happened, I wouldn’t necessarily have seen it.”
    “Have you seen anything else?”
    “Like what?”
    “Anything that made you uneasy.”
    She laughed, but the laugh itself was an uneasy one. “Nothing worse than at Carson’s.”
    “That bad?”
    “They’re all the same. Unless you look like Jennifer Lopez or a Playboy centerfold — maybe then the places you get to work at are different. Although actually I doubt it. I’m sure the money’s better, but the management and the customers, I don’t know.”
    “Better quality leather in the whips,” I said.
    “Exactly.”
    “Have you ever met Khachadurian?”
    “I only saw him once, on my first day,” she said. “Lenz was walking with this huge guy, took up half the hallway. One of the other girls said that’s who it was.”
    “And Lenz? What’s he like in private?”
    “The same. In private, in public, he’s a prick. He’s the same with everyone as he was with you last night.” I heard a muted beeping from under the table, the sound of a cell phone picking out the notes to Ravel’s Bolero . She picked up her handbag, dropped it on the table, and rooted around in it until she found her phone.
    “Go ahead, take it,” I said. “I’ll step over there.”
    “No, it’s not a call. I just set the alarm.” She pressed a button on the side of the phone and the melody stopped. “I need to go. I’m sorry. I’ve got to get changed and get ready.” Her hands were shaking again. Or maybe they’d never stopped.
    “How can I contact you if I need to?” I said
    She still had her cell phone in her hand, so I would have thought the answer was obvious; but then again, I also remembered her saying in her voicemail that there was no good number where I could reach her.
    “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I just don’t give my personal number out to anyone. I mean, like, four people have it. You seem like a normal guy, but I don’t know you.”
    “You’re absolutely right,” I said, and I meant it. The more careful she was, the better. “You’ve got my number. Call me if anything happens. If I need to get in touch with you, how about I leave a message for you here?”
    She nodded, and got up. “John—” She lowered her voice. “Do you think Randy was right? Part of me thinks she was just making this stuff up and now I’m getting sucked into her fantasy. But someone killed her, and if it’s the guy I’m working for, I could be in real danger.”
    This time the reassurance came out before I could stifle it. “I think you’re pretty safe, Rachel. Even if he did kill her — and I don’t know, it doesn’t sound right, why would he do it on the roof of his own building? — but even if he did, I don’t think he’s going to try it again anytime soon, not while the police are watching the place. You’re probably safer there than anywhere in the city.”
    She nodded, wanting to believe. Then she said, quietly, “It’s Susan.”
    “What?”
    “You called me Rachel. That’s for the clubs. My name’s Susan.” She held her hand out, and this time I took it.
    I watched her go, then paid the check and left myself. The streets were dark, or anyway as dark as it ever gets in Manhattan. Storefronts kept the avenue well lit, but on the side streets it was