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When she’d talked to her DEA contact before – the time Benjy had heard her, and then when I eavesdropped on the radio – she’d cussed the guy out like a sailor and acted like she was on the rag.
But this time around, she was little Miss Congeniality?
Yeah, right.
I figured the way she talked to the guy – maybe even the message she’d left him – had clued him off that something was seriously wrong. Putting him on speaker phone was possibly another warning sign. And then when she acted like she was all sugar and spice? He must’ve known things were rotten. So he acted like he was letting her go, with the full intention of catching up with her later when the heat was off.
That’s the way I would have played it.
Which made me realize she was even more slippery than I’d thought.
If I wanted to get to the bottom of this, I was going to have to do it alone.
Fuck Jack Pollari.
I was going to torch this bitch and laughed while she burned.
95
Venus didn’t want to give up her contact, but she eventually did – after a good deal of whining, and a lot of pressure from Jack. Once he texted me the number, I saved it in my phone as ‘DEA?’ It was a 213 area code, out of Los Angeles.
Then I called Dan Peters.
“Lou, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, anything but pleased – though he managed to still sound pleasant.
“I need you to check a phone number for me.”
“They have this amazing thing called the internet now, you know.”
Lookee, lookee. A streetwalker getting all uppity about having to give a blow job, even though she’s already been bought and paid for.
“It’s sensitive, Dan. I think you ought to do it.”
He sighed. “Fine. What is it?”
After he’d typed it in, there was a long silence on the other end.
“Well?” I asked.
“I’m not showing anything.”
“Is that normal?”
“No, it’s not. If it’d been assigned before, I’d see something in the records… and if it hadn’t been assigned yet, I’d see THAT in the records, too. But… I don’t see anything.”
“Huh. Call the number for me, Dan.”
“Why?”
“I want to satisfy my curiosity. If they answer, tell ‘em who you are and that you want to speak to Robert Smith. Tell ‘em you got the number from a stripper named Venus, and she said to get word to them that she’s in serious danger. If they don’t answer, and you gotta leave a message… tell ‘em the exact same thing.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Why don’t YOU do it?”
“I think it might have a little more weight coming from the Chief of Police.”
