Luce
-1-
I can't fucking sleep.
The penthouse always feels out of balance now that Twyla is on the run with Colette Santoro. They’d checked in a few times over the
last year but it still felt like we'd lost her.
I'd pocketed one of Rias’ sleeping pills earlier tonight but it wasn't working so I’d pulled on some pants and camped out on the living room balcony to smoke. Ma sees me out here on her way upstairs with a cup of tea. She gives me the disappointed glare that had stopped working about 30 seconds after I got out the womb.
The tea in the hand painted teacup was probably chamomile and lavender and she was probably taking it to Rias who was probably just now getting out of the shower, getting into bed and reading a paragraph from the New Revolution Bible Rayne had left him. Some people in the cartel had come around to the fact that their de facto leader was a college kid but I could only imagine what they would think if they knew his mother still tucked him in a night.
I boot up my internal software and go to Control’s live feeds. I’d been put on Alex’s block list since his outburst but seeing as I built the security system I easily bypass it. I bypass the pay function while I'm at it. My vision is filled with the image of him lying naked on top of his duvet, faking sleep for the live feed.
I was pissed at him for all the things he’d said to me and for him not understanding how hard I’d worked to be in the cartel and how I wasn’t going to just let it all go to hell to help his bitchy sister. He knew she could be coldhearted. She'd left him in an RLA prison camp.
I would miss us together. Alex understood
all my desires before I could even voice them. I’d been interested in him the moment I saw him. Everyone was. He
was easily the most beautiful
person in the entire Sprawl and he’d chosen
me. I'd liked having a person. Now every other person I had a passing interest
in I’d always compare to him.
The marijuana in my pipe mellows me out and my thoughts stop racing. I lean back and unbuckle my belt. The Hydra was the tallest building in Mojave so no one could see what I was doing up here.
I stare at the live feed, playing with my fly, feeling like a complete idiot.
If I got desperate enough I could just pay and force him to spend time with me. He was a prostitute after all. But it wouldn’t be the same. I liked what we had. He was the only friend I’d managed to make as an adult and I doubt I’d find someone else who would put up with my bullshit.
Fuck.
I readjust my belt and walk out of the loft. If Twyla were here I might mention to her that I was leaving for a few hours but I doubt Ma and Rias will even notice I’m gone.
I take the elevator down to the basement prison, exchange a few head nods with the guards on duty and tell them I need 5 minutes with a prisoner. They’re not supposed to even let me down here without Rias or Minnow's permission but it’s late and I pose it as a favor.
I knock on Isla’s cell before opening it.
She’s still hunched up in the armchair and she’s braided half her waist length hair into little braids. Her eyes go the ground as I sit on the small bed in the corner.
“Have they questioned you ?”
“No one has told me anything,” she cries. “I didn’t kill her. I didn’t kill Linz…I didn’t even know she was dead I only saw her once…I liked her.”
“Your other murder conviction,” I say. “Is it like they reported in the feed?”
Isla fingercombs a small section of hair and begins to braid it.
“You know Alex and I grew up with a crazy religious grandmother. I mean god bless her, she had her reasons, but…we weren’t allowed to do anything fun. I got married at twenty just to get away and then I got saddled with a baby and—well, you know that story.” she says. “Anyway when I got the money from the cartel and went abroad for design school I got a little wild…you know how college can be.”
I didn’t, but I nod anyway.
“Ella Giovanni was my roommate and best friend,” she says, her eyes watering. “We did everything together for like 3 years. She went through this break up and I took out some drugs I’d been saving for a bad day. They were apparently laced with something she was allergic to and I woke up to find her dead next to me on the couch.”
Isla starts sobbing and when I even attempt to make a move towards her she shakes her head.
“Her family was so heartbroken. I didn’t understand any of the legal bullshit and was advised to plead guilty. I thought I was saying I was guilty for distributing drugs. I didn’t realize I was also pleading guilty to a murder charge. I got 30 years to life and went into this crazy depression. Then 9 months into my sentence they found out one of the judges was getting paid by a cartel and all his drug cases were overturned. I got released on a technicality, changed my last name back from Starling to Haley and started country hopping again.”
“How the hell have you not told your brother about this ?”
“It was like 15 years ago, I could never tell anyone,” she says. “Drugs ruined our mom’s life, I couldn’t tell Alex I’d done them. I’m not proud of what I did and I’m not perfect but I’m not a killer. I was at Virtue the night Linz died but I didn’t even get my full appointment with Linz. I got to her room, we had small talk but then I had a work emergency. I’m helping my company design a runway and one of the designers was having a meltdown.”
“How long were you with Linz ?”
“No more than 20 minutes,” she says. “Then I got the call. You can call the designer’s assistant. Check the call log on my syndicate. I arrived at Virtue at 7:30, had a drink, Linz came to get me at 8:00 and by 8:30 I was out of there and she was alive. Also, the dress I was wearing didn’t have room for a gun.”
“A gun ?”
“Wasn’t she shot ?”
“No. Who told you she was shot ?”
"I...assumed."
“Why were you wearing Linz’s clothes when you left?”
“I wasn't--I couldn't even fit into one of her--oh,” she starts then pauses. “Wait. I spilled my drink on my dress and she gave me a sweater to wear…she was nice like that. The sweater is probably still in my dry cleaning pile. Alex can show you.”
Maybe Isla was fucking with me. Maybe she was a hell of a good liar.
But for some reason I believe her.
+++
-2-
I re-check the calibration on the coordination software I’d built to track people with syndicates to make sure I was in the right place.
Le Cirque was one of those fancy restaurants refurbished exclusively for the rich assholes the Federation has been flooding into the rebuilt parts of the Sprawl.
Charlotte Dory had no business being here.
But apparently she was.
I walk inside the upscale restaurant and the hostess greets me with a big smile and starts talking but I’m not listening. I do a quick scan of the restaurant and spot Charlotte sitting at the bar.
She's wearing a pencil skirt and has her hair up in a tight bun at the top of her head. I’ve never seen that shade of red lipstick on her and it all makes her look entirely too mature.
I walk past the hostess and take the seat by Charlotte.
She turns to smile but when she sees it’s me she nearly jumps out of her chair.
“What are you doing here ?,” she hisses.
“I should be asking you--”
“Would you like your usual Mrs. Rothwell ?,” the bartender cuts in.
He’s looking directly at Charlotte and she flusters a bit.
“Yes, that’s fine thank you,” she says quickly.
“Shot of whiskey,” I tell the bartender when he turns to me.
The bartender frowns.
“He’s joking,” Charlotte says with a fake little laugh. “He means a neat old-fashioned--”
“No,” I interrupt. “ I mean once you measure and pour the whiskey I want you to bring me the glass without any of that other shit.”
The bartender and I have a little staring contest.
“Of course, sir.”
“Luce,” Charlotte hisses once the bartender is gone. She buries her face in her hands. She’s wearing diamond rings.
“Mrs. Rothwell ? What the fuck is going on ?”
“Nothing,” she sighs. “It's a fake name. I just like to come here sometimes.”
“Why ?”
She shrugs.
“Nobody knows me in this neighborhood. I can just pretend to be someone else. Be normal and live like the other side for a few hours. Haven’t you ever wanted to pretend like you lived another life ?”
“No.”
I really wish Minnie or Ma were here. Someone who could tell Charlotte everyone likes her for who she is because I’m not that guy.
“Your fantasy life is eating in fancy restaurants and drinking champagne for lunch ? You are the oldest 22-year-old I’ve ever met.”
“I’m 20,” she corrects and sips her champagne. “I get it. It’s stupid to you…But please don’t tell anyone. Now, what do you want ?”
“Can’t you just hack into it ? Isn’t that your thing ?”
“It’ll take me forever to sort through the data. I’m trying to make this easy.”
Charlotte opens the leather monogrammed bag on the chair beside her and pulls out one of the many tablets she used to keep Jean straight.
“Dad’s really taking it hard.” She says tapping through the screens. “Said Linz had so much potential.”
Charlotte didn’t refer to Jean Dory as Dad often. Only around maybe Minnow.
I could never get over Jean having a daughter. Jean had been a rebellious teenager when he was my dad’s intern and fell in with my parents. When I woke up in that hospital as a 7-year-old cyborg with a dead father Jean had been there. He was imperfect but always looked after me like I was his own.
Ma had done the same for him when the government dropped Charlotte at his door after her mother had died.
“There’s no sound. I can only show you the hall and the lounge. Linz room didn’t have the hidden cameras…most of the Virtue rooms are private.” Charlotte says.
I take the tablet and watch security footage of Isla at the lounge bar. She’s having a good time, and it looked like she had more than the one drink she said. There are three empty martini glasses on the bar. She’s laughing with the bartender. I even see myself at the bar a few seats down. I spent a lot of nights at the Virtue bar and hadn’t even noticed Isla was there that night.
I scroll through the timeline until I see Linz on camera . Linz was over six feet of curves, tanned legs, and silky black hair tinted white at the end. She had a wide smile and wore a black party dress the showed off just how tempting her tits and ass were.
Linz taps Isla on the shoulder, they hug and talk, touching each other’s hair and clothes in appreciation. Then Linz upsells Isla into getting a dark chocolate martini before they head upstairs—Linz carrying Isla’s overflowing chocolate drink.
“Now I need to see Isla leaving. It’d be around 8:25,”
Charlotte fast forwards and at 8:23 I see Isla running down the stairs with her shoes in her hand and a tight purple sweater hugging her shoulders. She was either running from a murder scene or rushing to work.
“Isn’t there a camera at the top of the stairs ? Maybe someone walked into Linz’s room right after Isla left.”
Charlotte clicks around on the squares on the screen and finally opens up a black square.
“Shit,” she
curses. "What the fuck ?"
“What ?”
“…The footage is gone,” she whispers.
“Gone ? Does that happen ?”
“Sometimes…I mean I know it is hard to believe but we are on a budget.” she reminds me. “We can’t store footage that isn’t for blackmail purposes. Jean had the system modded to automatically delete non-essential--”
She shuts up as the bartender comes back and gives Charlotte a plate with the daintiest piece of fish I have ever seen. He slides me my drink without a second glance.
“Don’t you think it’s convenient that the only camera that shows Linz’s door is the one that got dumped ?,” I ask taking my drink . “That the one time a camera goes out is the day someone is murdered ? Who else has access to these files ?”
“Me and Dad—not that he knows how to use it. Maybe Minnow and Rias. Your mom…And I’m not going to pretend like we haven’t been hacked by pissed off ex-clients looking for revenge…you really don’t think Isla did it, do you ?”
“I don’t know. It just…seems like a cover up.”
“Of what ?”
“I don’t know. Can you not tell anyone I asked you about this?”
She gives me a suspicious eyebrow but nods.
“Sure. As long as you don’t tell anyone I do this.”
“Who am I going to tell ?”
That makes her smile for some reason and she picks up the fork to eat her garnish of a meal.
“Let me know if I can help," she offers. “I know Minnie and Jean wanted to solve this quickly to put the other escorts at ease but I’d rather know who actually did it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell her. “Do you know if Lex is working right now ?”
She moves around a schedule on her tablet, tilting it so the bartender doesn’t see what she’s looking at.
“He’s doing a semi-private event.”
“It’s the
middle of the afternoon ?"
She shrugs.
“It’s just a group of tourist from the East. We get them in and out so they can be home and pretend they were at work all day. It’s the less hardcore crowd.”
She turns the tablet screen to me and I see a feed of the lounge in Control. Alex and Gaige, one of Control’s other escorts, are tongue fucking each other for the small crowd.
I take back my shot of whiskey and send payment for the drink and Charlotte’s food.
The salad was 28 fucking dollars.
“Hey,” she says. “Control’s semi-private events are $50 an hour. You should probably just pay now so I don’t have to call security to rough you up.”
I
-3-
By the time I make it inside of Control Gaige has Alex blindfolded, tied to an x-frame and is working his leather riding crop over Alex’s taught body. He's wearing an artfully ripped Virtue shirt and a scrap of leather skirt that just barely covered the top of his thighs. I hate how fucking hot he looks and I hate that he’s not mine anymore
I take a seat at the bar. Alex is blindfolded
so he can’t see me watching. Gaige's eyes linger on me but only for a second before his
attention goes back to Alex.
Monogamy hadn’t been part of the deal Alex and I had together but I didn’t trust Gaige and he knew it. He was in his mid-40s, making him one of the older escorts in Control. He had a full head of dark blonde hair, sharp eyes that could go cold when he was in a mood and that deceptive golden boy look about him. Gaige was in Control because he got off on pain and ignored pre-negotiated limits. I'd see his clients leave his suite sobbing, bruised, bleeding and threatening to sue Jean.
Then come back next month for more.
Gaige exchanges his riding crop for a sharp kitchen knife.
He grazes the tip of the blade against Alex’s lips. Alex trembles. Gaige had a big thing for slashing open skin and playing with the blood.
But Charlotte had said this was a softcore crowd and Gaige just uses the knife to cut off the bottom half of Alex’s shirt exposing his impossibly narrow waist and part of the giant black RLA insignia burned into is torso. Gaige sets the kitchen knife down with the rest of his implements and steps back, beckoning the audience to come up and participate.
The small audience was mostly men, a few with their hands already deep in their pants. None of them stand at first. I noticed this a lot in Control. Once people got close to participating in their darkest fantasies they suddenly become too afraid to take what they truly wanted.
One man finally walks up and picks up the knife. He cuts the strap off Alex’s shirt and a few others follow suit. They hesitantly touch his body, his hair, his bonds. Alex doesn’t react to any of their touches.
Tired of amateur hour, I stalk from my seat at the bar, push through the audience and right up to the x-frame. The others part for me, staring up as I get close.
I grab Alex’s chin, jerk his face towards mine and kiss him. I want his lips to part for me and I want us to consume each other like we always did. Then we’d reconcile and move on.
But the second my lips touch his, his body language goes rigid. He doesn’t return the kiss.
He knows it’s me. He'd never reject a paying client.
His right hand is restrained above his head and I press my hand over it so we can have this moment. If he made the slight gesture of curling the three fingers of his right hand over his thumb Gaige would end this and unlock him.
I move my lips over Alex’s ear.
“Okay, Lex.” I whisper into his ear and he bristles. “Let’s solve a murder.”
----
A/N
In my files this serial is named LSAM which stands for Let's Solve A Murder.