Vic would have bet her next rent check the looker from Jackie Flex’s office was Nadia Meriaz and the mark her ‘friend’ had fleeced was none other than Emerson Gunn. He’d given her something, and she’d skipped town. But what? And Why? It would have to be something huge to force her to abandon the high life.
There was one person who could shine some light on that, but Gunn wasn’t the type of guy who made himself easily found. She could wait until one of his goons showed up for an update, but she might lose the lead by then and still not get any information on his whereabouts.
There was another option. Someone who would keep tabs on the big-name criminals in her part of town. But she’d probably have as much luck asking him as waiting for Gunn’s lackeys and bribing them with tea and cakes. Well, ‘if you have to start kicking, start with the lightest door’, as her dad used to say. She turned her car towards Wiamut Ave once again.
Logan Ward was not in his office. In fact, according to the night clerk, he was not in the building at all. Just her luck, the one night he doesn’t work late. Vic got back in her car and headed for the Marble Residential District. The name was a farce. There was not a stone or marble in sight. Maybe there was once, or maybe they picked the name because it sounded fancy. Now it was just narrow streets lined with stunted trees and squat brownstones. The place was filled with people pretending to be better than everyone else while ignoring they all lived in the same putrid city. It took Logan a long time to answer his door.
“Christ. What are you doing here?” He looked exhausted and maybe a little drunk.
“I just need a little information…”
“Wait until morning like everyone else, Victoria.”
“I would if I could, Logan. Trust me. But I need it tonight.”
“Of course you do. And god forbid someone make you wait, right?” He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Fine, what do you want? Make it quick.”
“Well,” Vic gave him a small smile, “I need to know where I could find Emerson Gunn at this time of night.”
Logan stared, and finally deciding she was serious, started to laugh. He turned and walked into the house without a word. Vic followed, waiting for his chuckling to die down. She picked up a half-empty bottle of brandy from a side table and poured herself a glass.
“You always did like the good stuff.”
“It’s been a long week,” he took the glass from her and finished it in one drink, “hell, it’s been a long year.” He poured another glass and left it on the table. “Why are you looking for Gunn?”
“For a case,” she hesitated. She couldn’t tell him much whether she wanted to or not. He’d haul Gunn in himself if he thought it would lead to Nicole Quinn. Then she’d be in hot water with Barstolt Row and lose her last lead to solving this case. “One of his goons dumped some work on me a bit ago, and I need more information. Really hoping to put this one to bed by the end of the night, ya know?”
He shook his head and sneered, “doing work for the gangs now?”
“It’s not like that. You know very well I don’t take banger jobs.”
“Do I? I thought I knew a lot about you Victoria,” he gave a bitter laugh, “you proved me wrong.”
“You know me better than most.”
“Bullshit.”
“Logan, don’t…”
“Don’t?” He poured another drink. “I proposed to you and you laughed in my face!”
“And I told you, I thought you were joking.”
“I was on one knee, for Christ's sake.”
“What the hell about me screams I’m the marrying type, Logan? I was happy with things just the way they were. I can’t help it. You wouldn’t listen.”
“You were happy? Living in a one-room flat over your shitty office, spending your days harassing low lives and barely making rent? I was trying to offer you a better life, Vic. Fix things for us…”
“When did I fucking tell you I wanted my life fixed, Logan?” she sat her glass on the table with a little too much force. “I’m not some wayward damsel living in the slums because of misfortune, just waiting to be whisked away from the grit and squalor. I am this, right here. I’m mean and selfish and vulgar. I like my shitty office. I like eating day-old pizza, drinking cheap wine, and harassing lowlifes and I don’t need anyone to fix that. That was our real problem Logan, you thought if you chipped away at enough of me you’d find the girl you wanted underneath. Instead, all you found was more me and that was never enough.”
Logan stood staring for a moment. Finally he walked to his desk and scribbled something on a piece of paper before walking back to the door. He handed her the paper, “this is the place you want,” was all he said before opening the door. She took it without comment.
Back in her car, she put Logan out of her head. She had work to do and it needed her full attention. The address he had given her was a hotel not far from where she was. It wouldn’t be hard to find, but getting in might be an issue. But she was not in the mood to drag this Quinn case out any longer. It had been nothing but a headache from the start.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
Nearing midnight, she pulled up outside the Double Majesty Hotel and Spa. The desk clerk droned at her unenthusiastically, “welcome to Double Majesty. How many nights will you be staying?”
“None. I need to speak to a guest.”
The boy rolled his eyes. “We don't give out guest names or room numbers for any reason, mam.”
“I don’t need a name or a room number, you little shit. Mr. Gunn. Room 408,” he looked shocked, “yeah, that Gunn. Call him and tell him Vic Cross is here to see him. Now.” She left to sit in the small lobby, depending on the kid's fear of pissing off Gunn to outweigh any doubts he might have about doing what she asked. She didn’t have to wait long.
The elevator slid open five minutes later to admit the same lummox that had presented her with the Nicole Quinn file. He looked less than pleased to see her.
“Unless you have information on Mr. Gunn’s…situation, he doesn't need to see you. We’ll be in touch when you have what we need.” He headed back toward the elevator.
“Hey! If Gunn wants his situation solved, I need to talk to him.”
“I provided all the information we got already.”
“No, you provided all the information Arch PDs got. And they haven’t been able to do jack with it,” she stood up, “look, he either wants this solved or he doesn’t. But if he does, I need a chat. Five minutes.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, “you better figure this shit out fast, though.” She wondered why he gave a fig where Nicole Quine was. He blocked the open elevator door. “You packin’?”
“No.”
He grinned, “you think I’m just gonna take your word for it?”
Vic irritatedly opened her long coat and pulled up her pants legs. “We good?”
“Yeah, yeah. Come on.”
Emerson Gunn had a reputation in her part of town as being ruthless, cunning, and ambitious. But it was well known he’d inherited his role from his father, who’d run the gang for decades before him. She’d heard whispers here and there. He wasn’t living up to the old man. She found Gunn lounging in an overstuffed armchair, and he was definitely not what she’d expected. No more than middle-aged, well-manicured, but not even close to handsome. His tailored blue suit strained over his bulk, and he held a crystal tumbler in one meaty hand. What the hell was a woman like Nicole Quinn doing with this guy?
“Ah, Ms. Cross. So good to see you. Please come in and sit down.” Gunn sounded morose. His bloodshot eyes followed her as she took the seat across from him. “I know you have not completed the job I tasked you but I hope you have some information to shine a light on this tragedy.”
“Tragedy?”
“Yes, Ms. Cross. Tragedy,” he sighed dramatically, “do you not think so as well? I really can not see any other explanation. Nicole…Mrs. Quinn would never have just left.” There was an implied ‘me’ at the end of his statement. Vic noticed Gunn’s goon, who had removed himself to the shadows in a far corner, was looking at his boss with open disgust. She couldn’t blame him. It was hard to be taken seriously as a ruthless gang leader when you were acting like a sullen teenager.
“Have you been watching me, Mr. Gunn?”
“Of course. Much easier to keep track of your process than the more official investigation. I am doing that as well, but I can’t risk being too interested. For various reasons. And I suspect they are being paid off by Anthony Quinn to cover up his crime.” He nodded to her, “it is part of the reason I hired you, your particular connection to the Arch City PD.” Vic felt foolish for missing that connection, and the apparent tail she’d had, but Gunn overlooked her discomfort, “now come, you must have something important to share if you came here without an answer for me.”
“I needed to ask you a few questions. To help with the case.”
“I do not generally like answering questions, Ms. Cross.” Gunn’s bully moved from his corner towards her, but Gunn held up a hand. “But if this will help you with the investigation, I will be happy to.” The goon looked irritated not to be throwing her out, but returned to his corner.
“Did you give Mrs. Quinn anything recently? A large gift maybe or…”
“Bah, she needed nothing from me except freedom and secrecy. I used all my resources to provide both.” That explained the ill will from his man, at least. It would have taken a lot of resources and a heavy hand to keep that secret. Gunn gave another dramatic sigh. “Alas, she was still trapped, despite my efforts.” He paused then turned toward the man in the corner, “leave us for a moment, Manuel.” The big man hesitated and Gunn raised his voice, “if you’ve done your job properly, what is the problem?” Manuel left looking like he’d be perfectly fine if Vic offed his boss while he was out. When he was gone, Gunn sat in silence for some time, brooding.
“I wanted to take her away from here. I told her we could leave this wretched city behind,’ he said. “Just the two of us. Her husband must have found out. He’s done something to her in retaliation, Ms. Cross. I am sure of it.”
“You were going to leave the city?”
“Yes, of course. For her I would leave this,” he waved vaguely around the room. “I would have protected her. Away from here, no one could touch us.” Vic thought he was underestimating the reach of a man like Anthony Quinn, but she kept her mouth shut. “She wanted that, more than anything she said,” he was whining now, “I even bought the tickets and prepared our bags. But the very day I told her my plan, she was gone.”
Vic had to restrain herself from groaning. “Did you give her the tickets?”
“Her’s yes, of course. And the key to the airport locker, where everything we needed for our new life was waiting. We planned to meet later that day, but she never returned. I have been in anguish since, thinking that it was those very things I gave her that may have gotten her hurt. I would have killed him myself if it was within my power.” He hung his head in shame. Vic could not believe this man was even a member of a gang, much less the supposed power behind one.
“And when had you planned to leave?”
“What does it matter now? She is gone, isn’t she? He killed her,” he wailed dramatically.
“I don’t know that for sure, Mr. Gunn, but if I had the specifics, I could confront Mr. Quinn…perhaps trip him up with the information.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Excuse me, I lost my head.” He wiped his hand across his eyes. “We’d planned to meet at the Raston Motel a few miles from the airport and stay there until our departure. Our tickets were for tomorrow morning at eight, a Highline flight.”
“I will need you to lose the tail on me for one day Mr. Gunn,” Vic hoped she wasn’t pushing her luck here, “I need to do some digging on Anthony Quinn and I can’t risk him getting wise.” Lying to this guy would have given her the shivers before tonight, but she was betting this love-struck idiot would tap dance naked for her if she convinced him it would bury Tony Quinn. Gunn nodded and rose, crossing the room and calling Manuel back in. He turned and offered his hand to Vic. “That will be your new task, then, Ms. Cross. To make sure that monster gets his due. I will not rest until I see it done,” he declared. “It is the only thing that is important to me now.”
Well, Vic thought as she left, there was one good thing about Emerson Gunn’s love-induced idiocy; based on the look Manuel was giving him, he wouldn’t be around to know if she never solved his case.