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“You drive,” I said.
“It’s your night.”
“I think Duzek saw me sitting outside in Tweety.”
She stopped dead. So did Jessie and Harlow.
“How do you know that?” she demanded.
“I’ll tell you in the car. Let’s get out of here.”
We hightailed it to the Merc while trying to look like we weren’t hightailing it, and with Jess and Harlow in the back, me in the passenger seat, Luna reversed out of our spot and took off.
“Talk,” she ordered.
“He gave me a salute when we were walking out,” I shared. “Looked right at me and gave me a salute, like he knew me.”
We’d been pretty thorough in our brief with Jessie and Harlow (though we left out my unhinged shenanigans with the wife beater, and my lunatic tomfooleries with the rapist, not to mention my deranged mischiefs with Paul Nicholson).
So Harlow asked, “You think he saw you when you were watching from Tweety?”
“Yeah. If not live and in person, they have cameras on the parking lot. I tried to park out of range, but I can’t be sure I succeeded.”
“So, say he didn’t see you live and in person, which you would notice since you were there watching,” Jessie said. “That means he saw you on one of the cameras. And as far as your intel goes, he doesn’t work there, so how can he see security footage?”
“Maybe it’s like Bibbidi-Bobbidi Boo from the Sopranos,” Harlow suggested.
“What?” Luna asked.
“Bibbidi-Bobbidi Boo, Tony Sopranos’ strip club where he and his boys hang out.”
“You mean Bada Bing,” Jessie corrected.
“Yeah, that,” Harlow said. “In other words, a front.”
I glanced at Luna to see she was glancing at me, and our glances weren’t about how oh-so-very Harlow it was she thought a strip club would be called, Bibbidi-Bobbidi Boo.
Luna looked back at the road.
“Let’s explore possible whys,” Jessie said. “One, we have a serial killer, and I would hope like fuck the cops would cotton on to that.”
I would hope so too.
However, I had considered this option, and I just couldn’t imagine, if there was some connection that would say we had a Ted Bundy on the loose in Phoenix, they wouldn’t be all over it.
“Two,” she carried on. “Why would you nab sex workers and strippers?”
“Because less people might notice them gone, or less questions would be asked when they are gone,” Harlow replied.
“That, for sure, butwhy?” Jessie pushed.
I should have added to my Angel posse a long time ago.
I knew this for certain when we all answered at the same time, “Human trafficking.”
I couldn’t say I hadn’t considered this too. They were buzzwords because it was a problem.
I just never allowed myself to go there, not to the “why,” because if I did, it’d hark way too close to what might have become of Macy.
