James Swain - The King Tides

“I wouldn’t think so,” he said.

“The next time we slept together, I happened to wake up in the middle of the night. I don’t know why, but I started whispering in his ear. I said, ‘Zack, this is Cassandra. This is Cassandra.’ Hold on a second.”

“Sure,” he said.

Karissa had a brief conversation with another nurse who was walking by. She came back moments later. “Sorry, but I need to run. We just had a group of schoolkids in a bus crash brought in.”

“Wait. Don’t leave me hanging like that,” he said. “What happened when you whispered in Zack’s ear?”

“He got aroused, big time.”

“He had a thing for this woman.”

“In the worst way. I woke him up, and asked him who Cassandra was. I told him if he lied to me, I’d kick him out. He fessed up and said she was an English professor he’d had when he was in college that he’d fallen for and never forgotten.”

“Did you believe him?”

“I believed that part about him being in love with her. There was no mistaking that. The rest of it was a fib.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Zack was obsessed with teenage girls. That was why he lusted after me. I have to think Cassandra was a young girl that he wanted, but couldn’t have. Shit, I’m being paged. Let me run. I hope this helps.”

“It helps a lot. Thank you for reaching out to me.”

“Anytime, Jon. Goodbye.”

The line went dead. He pulled out of his space and drove back to the Booty Call wondering how Cassandra played into this. Was she a youthful porn star that Kenny had become enamored with? Perhaps Nicki Pearl resembled Cassandra, which would explain Kenny’s obsession with Nicki. Or was Nicki connected to Cassandra and secretly doing porn? The secret to solving a case was to dig a hole and not stop digging until you found what you were looking for. It was a laborious process, but in the end, it usually paid off.

He entered Sergey’s office to find the Russian engaged in conversation with one of his dancers. The dancer wore next to nothing, and was distinguished by a long blonde ponytail hanging down her back. Every dancer had a gimmick that set her apart from the other naked ladies she shared the stage with. The ponytail was unusually long, and he found himself wondering if it was real.

The cell phone with Zack Kenny’s data sat on the coffee table, its screen showing. Sergey had hacked the password with his software program. Lancaster grew excited; he was nearing the finish line, and would soon know why these creeps were stalking Nicki.

“I thought you were going to call me,” he said.

“I have a business to run,” Sergey said, his eyes on the upset dancer.

Lancaster slipped the cell phone into his pocket. Before he left, he needed to talk with his benefactor. He pointed a finger at the dancer and then pointed at the office door. Sergey understood, and a minute later the dancer was gone.

“I want to know how the deal with Vargas and her partner works,” he said. “Do they give you advance notice before they bring the coke to the club? Or do they just show up unannounced and drop a bag into your lap?”

“They call me in the morning, and bring the coke by in the afternoon,” Sergey said.

“Is the deal always the same?”

“Yes.”

“Any idea why?”

“Vargas told me that the dog trainer steals the coke in the morning, and passes the drugs to them in a Mexican restaurant near police headquarters where they meet for lunch. Vargas and her partner then come straight here and deliver the coke.”

“Is it done that way every time?”

“Yes. They are amateurs.”

“What do you mean?”

“Amateurs follow a script and never deviate from it. The drugs are stolen, they meet at a restaurant near where they work, the transfer is made, and Vargas and her partner drive straight here. Professionals would never be so obvious.”

The closest Mexican joint to police headquarters was called Zona Fresca. It had a spacious dining room that was often full, and he envisioned Vargas and her partner picking up the coke without other patrons in the restaurant being the wiser.

“Give me a few weeks to get this nailed down,” he said. “In the meantime, continue to play ball with Vargas and her partner. Don’t say anything out of line and make them suspicious. And don’t talk to anyone else about this. Are we clear?”

“My lips are sealed. Are you going to screw them?”

“Yes. And the police will not be involved.”

“No police?”

“Nope. I’m going to the Florida Department of Law Enforcement. They enjoy busting dirty cops. Rest assured, your name will be left out of it.”

“No blowback?”

“No blowback. On that you have my word.”

Sergey sprang off the couch, and they shook hands. It was the first time his host had stood up. He was barely five feet tall. Short men had a hard time in the criminal world, yet the vertically challenged Russian had managed to survive. His host was a smart operator, and someone Lancaster might call upon in the future.

“One last thing,” Lancaster said. “What password opened the phone?”

“Fendi123,” Sergey said.

Fendi was Kenny’s favorite cat. Karissa had given him this piece of information, and he reminded himself to thank her the next time they spoke. As he started to leave the office, Sergey stopped him.

“Let me give you advice,” the Russian hacker said. “In my country there is an expression. Sometimes, the cards play you. Be careful with Vargas and her partner. They are dangerous.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks for the warning,” he said.

Lancaster went home and fixed a pot of coffee. He was starting to drag and needed a caffeine jolt to get the pistons firing. Holding a steaming mug in one hand and the new cell phone in the other, he went onto his condo’s balcony and parked himself on a cheap folding chair that he’d bought online. He blocked out the sounds of moths banging against the overhead light and sipped his drink.

He slowly snapped to. The caffeine would wear off in an hour, and then he’d have to decide whether to fix another cup or hit the sack. He didn’t like working when he wasn’t 100 percent. It produced mistakes with bad consequences.

The cell phone had timed out, and he typed in “Fendi123” to open it up. Icons for dozens of apps appeared on the screen, many of which were foreign to him. He needed to look through each one and review the information stored upon it. The reason why Nicki Pearl was being stalked was stored on this device. Once he found out what that reason was, he’d be one step closer to giving Nicki and her family their lives back.

He drained his mug. He liked the Pearls and hoped he found nothing that would shed a bad light on Nicki. But his gut told him that wasn’t the case. Strange men didn’t stalk young girls for no reason. Nicki was somehow connected to these men.

He clicked on the first app. It was called Android Pay, and it let users buy things from online merchants or from physical stores. Zack Kenny had an account, and as Lancaster scrolled through his most recent purchases, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

The next app was called Arcus and was a real-time weather app. He spent a minute looking at the features before exiting out. Then came an app called Calculator, which performed simple mathematical equations. Next up was an app called Calendar that contained Kenny’s important dates and appointments, including days he worked out at a gym with a personal trainer, got his weekly pedicure, and had his biweekly haircut. The guy was a real narcissist, and Lancaster wondered if that went with being a pervert.

The next app was called Contacts and contained Kenny’s many personal and professional contacts. He scrolled through them and saw a page devoted to Karissa Clement. Zack had done a real number on Karissa, and he didn’t want him hurting her again. He erased her contact page with a few strokes on the keypad.