“Janessa, open the door.”
“I’m sick, D. You don’t want to catch what I have.”
“You aren’t fucking sick. I know what happened. Let me in.”
I took a deep breath and opened the door. I didn’t look as bad as I had a few days ago, but I was still sporting some yellowish brown bruises and chafed wrists. I looked at D standing on my doorstep with a blank expression.
“Goddamn it. This is why I told you to stay behind the fucking bar, Janessa.”
“What do you want, D?”
“I want you to tell me exactly what happened.”
“I thought you said you knew.”
“I know that you tussled with Ringo outside the elevator but by the time security caught it and got down there, you were gone. They went to his room, but you weren’t there, and he was laying on the floor with a nasty head wound. Other than that, there is video of you running from the building. Now, I want the rest of the story.”
“It’s none of your concern.”
“Everything that happens in my casino is my concern.”
“That what this is about? Tarnishing your precious casino?”
“Tell me what happened, Janessa. Now.”
“Or what? You going to do worse to me than Ringo did?”
“Janessa, I’m not playing games with you. Tell me what happened.”
I studied his face. He was angry. If I was going to stay at the club and keep snooping, I needed Ringo dealt with, and D would certainly read the riot act to him about touching me. Even if it wasn’t personal to him, he couldn’t afford to have one of his own club members assaulting the help.
“Fine. I’ll tell you.”
I proceeded to tell him what had happened. I thought I could do it matter-of-fact, but when I got to the worst parts, I broke down in tears. Despite the anger that grew more and more apparent on his face, he continued to listen to the end, wiping away my tears and grabbing me some Kleenex so I could finish. I told him that Knuckles had mentioned Ringo was looking for me the next morning. I had been hiding here in my house until I could figure out what to do about him.
“That son of a bitch. Security took him to our guy to get him patched up and sleep it off. I knew he had grabbed you, but not the extent of what had happened. All the guards told me was that he tried to get you up to his room but you had gotten away. How dare he think he can do that to one of my girls. I have to go.”
“Wait, D. What are you going to do?”
“What needs to be done. Lock your door, and don’t answer it for anyone but me. Got it?”
“Yes.”
To my surprise, he kissed me softly on the forehead before turning to leave. When I didn’t follow him, he turned toward me at the door. Despite the relative gentleness of his kiss, I could see that he was seething with anger and trying to keep it under control.
“The door, Janessa. Lock it now.”
“Okay, D.”
I felt a bit like a small child being instructed what to do, but I knew he was right. Who knew where Ringo was right now or what he might do. I should have told D what he had said about being second in command, but something told me to keep that to myself for now. Until I knew more about what I needed to in order to sort this whole mess out, it was best to keep some things quiet. If I told him everything, he would send me packing so fast it would make my head spin…or he might do even worse.
After he left, I paced and fretted, worrying about what he might be doing to Ringo. It wasn’t that I cared if he hurt him, he had it coming, but I was worried about D going too far. It couldn’t be good for his group to see someone in charge lose it like that on one of their own. I certainly didn’t want to be the cause of him having trouble among the ranks. Hours passed without word, and it seemed like I might go mad before he returned.
Several hours later, D returned to my house, looking visibly upset. I let him in, and he walked in as if he lived there, sitting on my sofa and putting his head in his hands wordlessly. He sat like that for a while before I finally spoke, and then it was only because I couldn’t wait anymore and broke the silence between them.
“What’s wrong, D?”
“He’s dead.”
“What? Who’s dead? Ringo?”
My heart thudded loudly in my chest. I hadn’t considered that D might just go kill him. I felt incredibly guilty and panicked. This wasn’t a game and I had forgotten what sort of man I was dealing with once again when I had told D what Ringo had done. Did this make me an accessory? More importantly, why were all the men that talked to me turning up dead? It occurred to me that D had to be wondering that same thing. I felt stricken with a fear that hung over me like a huge gray cloud.
“Of course, Ringo.”
“You killed him?”
“What? No. I found him dead. Someone cut his throat and left him to bleed out on his sofa.”
“Jesus…”
“I’ve asked everyone I could find to ask and they all looked shocked or shifty as hell. One of them even suggested he committed suicide because he knew he was going to be in deep shit with me. Who the hell commits suicide by slitting their own throat when they have a small arsenal of guns at their disposal? Ringo’s house would make an NRA member look like a pacifist. Something bad is going on and I’m going to find out what it is. Suicide, my ass.”
“I would say I can’t believe someone killed him, but it isn’t really a surprise if he treats everyone the way he treated me.”
“He does. You’ll be at least relieved to know that I’ve got a cleaner in there dealing with it so you don’t have to.”
“Cleaner?”
“Yes, you know, one of those guys who disposes of bodies so they can’t be found and cleans up the mess so people think he just skipped town.”
“Those people really exist?”
“Yes. You thought they were just something you see in movies?”
“Simonly, yes. You have to use one of those often?”
“I’d say that is a question you neither need nor want the answer to.”
“Oh. Of course. I’m sorry. Why would I have to deal with any of this without a cleaner? I didn’t kill him.”
“No. You didn’t, but that might be highly questionable when you clocked him with a lamp the night before he was murdered. That head wound didn’t just go away with his death. Besides that, having you even brought in and questioned is just bad for business.”
“But I didn’t kill him.”
“And you might be able to prove that, but the local district attorney is always happy to get his hands on anyone who works for me, and someone with a murder charge hanging over their head might just do anything to make it go away. Innocent or not. They can drag things out a really long time, and on the off chance they don’t frame you for it, you’re either ruined or turned. A cleaner is the best solution to avoid any of those potential complications.”
“I see. Well, thank you for taking care of it, then.”
“I did it for the club, not for you, Janessa. As much as I would like to trust you, there is still the fact that you were one of the last ones to see two men who are now dead. Both had their throats cut. I honestly have a hard time believing you capable of that, especially some of the things that were done to Jack Knife before he died. I can’t rule it out though. So, you might as well get used to me keeping a very close eye on you.”
“What? Are you serious? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Then you have nothing to hide from me. We’re going to be very close, Janessa. I’m your shadow until I figure you out. You act innocent, but there is something about you that tells me you aren’t. Whatever it is you are hiding, I’ll find out. I’d watch my step if I were you.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m merely stating a fact. No threat. Just a fact.”
“I think you should go.”
“You don’t seem to understand that I don’t care what you think, and I certainly don’t take orders from you. I am going to go, but only because I have things to deal with. You are the least of my worries at the moment.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll be back later to check on you, and I expect you back at work tomorrow. I suggest you do what you women do and put some makeup on those marks of yours before you come in.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t be sullen with me. It’s doesn’t look good on you, Janessa.”
“Goodbye, D.”
“See you soon.”
I watched as he sauntered back to the door and opened it, hesitating for a moment and looking downward. I had to wonder if he felt bad about the way he was treating me, for the accusations he was making, but I supposed a man like D didn’t really feel guilt. No doubt he did much worse things than just hurt a woman’s feelings sometimes. I had no doubt at all that he could be more than a little ruthless when the situation dictated it.
“Forget something? Left out an insult, perhaps?”
“Lock the door, Janessa.”
“Why? Am I locking the bad people out or locking a bad person in?”
“That has yet to be decided.”
He disappeared out the door as my blood boiled. Part of me wanted to be indignant that he was accusing me of being deceitful, but the fact was that I was exactly that. He was only wrong about what I was lying to him about. With him out of the way, I did as he asked. I locked the door and snapped the deadbolt in place. Once I heard his bike crank and head down the road, I went to my bedroom and retrieved my burner phone to call Arthur, making some notes while I waited for him to answer. I got voicemail.
“Arthur, it’s Janessa. Another member is dead. Ringo Gluscov, the one who assaulted me. I don’t think D did it, because he seems to think I might have, but he isn’t convinced so I think I’m not in any danger. They brought in a cleaner to dispose of the body from Ringo’s house.”
The call was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. I hurriedly ended the call and stuffed everything back in its place beneath the floorboards before making my way to the door. Looking out the peephole, I saw my landlord standing there, looking a bit nervous. I opened it and smiled at him, forgetting for a moment what a wreck I was with the bruises.
“I came to fix the shower.”
“Come in.”
“What happened to you?”
“I fell.”
“Yeah, into someone’s fist from the looks of it. Anyway, none of my business. I just need to fix your shower drain and get going.”
“Okay. Well, you know where it is.”
“Yep.”
I watched him as he made his way down the hall and went into the guest bath. How odd that he finally turned up to fix the shower. Why did he look so shaky? I was pretty sure he was an alcoholic, so maybe he was just recovering from a binge or reacting to not being on one. I heard him clanging around in the hallway bath and went back to the bedroom to do something with my appearance.
By the time I had gotten my makeup on and brushed my hair, he was calling to me from the living room.
“Yes?” I called back as I stepped out to look at him.
“You’re good to go now. It just needed to be snaked out. I’m really sorry that it took me so long to get to it.”
“It’s okay. It’s not like I have a lot of guests using that shower anyway.”
“I don’t think it matters how many guests you have that want to use it. It’s the matter of who those guests are.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Listen, since it took me so long to get to it, I’m going to comp this month’s rent.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Seriously. I have to go. Make sure you let your friend D know I took care of it.”
“Wait. You are here because D asked you to fix it?”
“Asked? If by ‘asked’ you mean shoved me against a wall and told me that it better be fixed by the end of the week, then yeah. He asked real nice like.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jonas. I did need it fixed, but I didn’t tell him to do that. He was visiting and asked to borrow the shower. I mentioned that it was broken. I guess he took it upon himself to butt in.”
“Apparently so. Anyway, I did what he told me to do. I have to go.”
I watched him as he made a hasty exit from the house. I almost felt bad for what D had done, but then again, Mr. Jonas had been ignoring me instead of fixing something he should have taken care of right away. I smiled a little to myself. Perhaps D had at least some good qualities. If pushing my landlord around until he did what he should got results, who was I to argue? I had a feeling that if I had any further problems with the rental, they would be addressed with much more urgency.