McGinnis

by Michael D. Brooks

Part 1 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

“Me? Hell, yeah.” Not to mention I needed the dough. “Who’s the pigeon?”

“Her name is Sandy. My sister.”

I gulped and choked on it. I had to cough to clear my throat. Her answer came out of left field and hit me like a right hook. I’d never met Dixie’s sister, but if she was anything like her, she was a pistol.

“Your sister?”

“Yeah.”

“She in some kind of trouble?”

Dixie paused before answering. “You could say that.”

Vague and evasive. I liked that. “Okay, where can I find her?”

Dixie reached inside of her blouse and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. She slid it across my desk. I opened it and read the note written inside. All that was on it was one address. I knew the place. It was a little seedy nightclub on the butt end of town. “Rick’s Place?” I asked. Dixie was silent. Probing me with her penetrating eyes before finally speaking.

Rick’s Place was one of those gin joints that stayed in business because it was frequented by high-powered, high-profiled individuals who had enough influence to keep the place open when all the other establishments like it were closed down. Rick was friends with the mayor, the police chief, the DA, judges, and most of the city council. Hell, Rick bankrolled the city government. Without him, the town would have been financially bankrupt instead of just morally corrupt. He had powerful friends and the muscle to back him up.

I knew Rick and he knew me. I wasn’t on his payroll, but I’d done a few personal favors for him so I was in good with him. We had what you might call a certain professional respect for each other.

“Yeah,” Dixie finally replied. She then reached for her purse and pulled out her cell phone. She slid it toward me. “She’s my kid sister.” The unit’s wallpaper was a picture of Sandy.

From what I could tell from the picture, Sandy looked every bit like the girl-next-door type. Pigtails, innocent smile, and a body half as developed as Dixie’s. It was hard to imagine she was legal age. I just couldn’t see how some sweet looking kid like that would want to work in a place like Rick’s.

“Cute kid. What’d she do?”

“Nothing.” She paused and took a drag on her cigarette. “Yet.”

“So what do you want me for?”

“I want you to do for her what you did for me. I’ll pay you double.”

I let out a long, nervous breath, along with a whistle, before I spoke again. Dixie knew the kind of work I was in, the things I did. I couldn’t believe she wanted to enlist my services to help her sister. I swallowed hard, “But she’s just a—”

“Please?” Dixie was almost pleading with me. “It’s for her own good.”

“Why?”

“She wants to be just like me. Follow in her big sister’s footsteps, but she’s inexperienced. She doesn’t belong there, Mac. It’s too soon. She doesn’t fit in yet. She’s not ready. I want you to get her ready.”

I decided it was useless to resist. I certainly wasn’t going to talk her out of asking me to do this job for her. Besides, I was a sucker for a pretty face with a sob story. I also needed the money — badly. “What’s she do?”

“Barmaid. And a bad one at that. She’ only been working there a couple of weeks.”

Long enough for her to get a feel for the place, I thought. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“I asked Rick to look out for her,” she continued. Dixie took another drag of her cigarette. Man, did I want to be that cigarette. She stamped it out in the ashtray, stood up and said, “Let’s go.” She picked up her purse and walked toward the door.

I watched her walk away. She was seductive and every bit as dangerous. My mind wandered to the time we met and the job I did for her. Now that was fun. I couldn’t have asked for an easier assignment or for a more willing client. Even the rich, old ladies who sometimes hired me weren’t so easy to deal with as Dixie was.

Dixie stopped in the doorway, turned and asked, “Are you coming or did you change your mind?”

I keyed in a command to lock my computer, grabbed my jacket and hat from the coat rack in the corner next to the chair she’d been sitting in, and followed her out the office.

The elevator once again creaked and protested as we rode it down to the lobby. I escorted her to the rear of the building and toward the back door leading to the alley. I punched in my security code and the door slid noiselessly open. Thank God for small favors. I carefully checked the trash-strewn alley for unsavory shadows. There weren’t any.

I ushered Dixie out the door. Discarded sections of hardcopy printouts blew around at our feet like tumbleweed in what little breeze found its way through the narrow passage between buildings. The disgusting smells of the dregs of humanity hung heavy in the air around us. We walked briskly down the dark alley toward the main street. I had one hand on Betsy and the other around Dixie.

As we walked through the alley, my keen sense of sound kicked into play. I could have heard a roach pissing on the trash in the corner behind the dumpster if I had to. I was ready for anything, but anything didn’t happen. We made it out of the alley safely. I surveyed the local nightlife as we walked up the main street.

The area was sparsely populated with a variety of characters. The kind you only see at night, but nothing threatening. We blended in with the denizens of the dark and headed toward the taxi stand on the corner.

The distinctive yellow paint jobs and black and white checkered board designs on the taxis seemed to put Dixie at ease. There were about a half dozen cabs waiting to pick up fares. It must have been a slow night. Dixie and I chose the first one we walked up to.

The driver, a pimply-faced kid, was wearing a brown bomber’s jacket, white t-shirt, and blue jeans. I guessed he was probably earning a little dough at night to work his way through college or something. When he saw us approach his cab, he put down the e-book he was reading and sat at attention eager to earn some money for the night. You could almost see the glee in his puppy dog eyes.

“Hey kid,” I said.

“Yes, sir?” was his eager and nervous reply. He leaned closer to the open passenger window to hear what I had to say.

“Want to make a little extra dough for yourself?”

His reply this time was enthusiastic and confident. “Yes, sir.”

“There’s an extra ten spot in for you if you get my lady friend here home safe. And I do mean safe. If I find out that she didn’t get home safe, I’ll be coming for you. You get my meaning?”

The gleam in his eyes went out like a candle in the wind and the nervousness returned to his voice. “Uh, yes, sir. I’ll get her home safe, sir. You can count on me, sir.”

I gave the kid the once over before I said, “I will.”

I didn’t mean to give the kid a scare or anything, but Dixie was too precious of a package for me to just let her go willy-nilly in the dark in the cab of a stranger without sizing up the delivery boy. In this case, a boy just barely a man.

I opened the back door of the kid’s cab and helped Dixie inside. I closed the door, handed her a ten-dollar bill for the kid, and was about to tap the roof when she called me.

“Mac?” Her one-word plea sounded almost desperate. The expression on her face was one of child-like innocence. The sight of her vulnerability put a lump in my throat. At that moment, Dixie reminded me of a damsel in distress and I wanted to be her knight in shining armor. I hadn’t seen her look like that since the last time I saw her.

“Yeah, doll face?” My heart was pounding in my chest like an inmate trapped in a dark, locked cell banging on the bars trying to get out.

“Take good care of Sandy for me.” Her voice was syrupy sweet and tender.

“I will,” I assured her.

“Oh, and Mac?” Dixie seemed to be almost pleading.

“Yeah?”

She opened her purse, reached inside and pulled out a small white card, slipped her well-manicured hand through the cab’s open window, and motioned for me to take it. “Here, give her this. Tell her it’s from me. She’ll know what it’s about.”

I took the little card and said I’d give it to Sandy.

She flashed me a seductive smile and said, “Thank you. Maybe when this is all over, I’ll have another job for you.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“I’m ready to go now.”

I tapped my hand on the roof of the cab and watched as the kid started up the engine. The nearly silent hover cab slowly rose from the ground and proceeded down the street as it carried Dixie and its driver away. I continued watching as the cab’s red taillights disappeared into the misty darkness of the night.

When I could no longer see the cab’s lights, I looked down at the card Dixie handed me. I saw that she had written three words on it: “Follow his lead.” I flipped it over. It was the business card I gave her when we first met. Now that job was a walk in the park.

But this new job wasn’t going to be easy — not by a long shot. Dealing with Rick wasn’t going to be a piece of cake. But I didn’t have much choice. I had a stack of bills that needed to be paid and I needed to get the bill collectors off my back.

I slipped the card into my coat pocket, checked to make sure the safety on Betsy was off, and headed up the street toward Rick’s Place.

To Challenge 441...