“Are you always here during operating hours?”
“Mostly. If I can’t be here, my second-in-command is in charge.”
“And who is he?” I ask.
“She.” The manager points at a woman with flaming red hair who mans the cash register behind the bar. “Sally.”
Reino hands him a business card with the number we use for off-the-books business. “Call us if she shows up or if you hear anything.”
He takes the card and studies the number. “Sure.”
I glance around the space. A few girls are warming up on stage. Topless waitresses are fluffing their hair and applying lipstick in the mirrored shelves of the bar, getting ready for their shift. “Can I talk to the staff?”
The owner holds out his arm, indicating that I may go ahead.
“Thanks.” Reino tips an imaginary hat at the man. “Much appreciated.”
We start with Sally. She tells us what the manager has said, that she’s never seen the Russians and that she hasn’t heard from Oxo in two weeks. She’s quick to add that they’re not close.
The other women don’t tell me anything useful either. None of them claim to be friendly with Oxo. Apparently, she keeps to herself.
After I’ve spoken to everyone, the manager shows us the changing room where the girls have lockers. He says when he opened Oxo’s locker, it was empty.
“They always keep at least a change of clothes here.” He combs his fingers through his graying hair. “I took this as her resignation.”
Reino juts his chin at the empty locker. “Does that happen often?”
“Rarely.” The man faces me. “Sometimes, a girl gets lucky and finds an unmarried man who’s serious about keeping her, but I can count the number of times that’s happened during my time here on one hand, and I’ve been managing this club for four years.”
I make my way to the exit, taking in the dreary décor and cheesy props before shooting over my shoulder, “The place can do with a makeover.”
The manager’s smile is indulgent. “Believe it or not, this is what our customers want. It’s not a place for men who want to conduct business and unwind with a few girls afterward. It’s a hit-and-run joint.” He stands taller. “That’s why we’re so successful. We know what we are, and we don’t pretend to be something different. What you see is exactly what our clientele expects when they’re looking for a place where they don’t want to be recognized.”
I thank the man and shake his hand before Reino and I take our leave.
“What about the police records?” Reino asks when we get into the car. “They must’ve listed an address.”
“I already had it checked out. She moved last year. The landlord said she didn’t leave a forwarding address.”
He starts the engine. “What about the mail? Did she get any he happened to keep?”
“Nothing except for junk mail. She doesn’t have a bank or store accounts, not even a loyalty card.”
“Clever. So no debt anywhere.”
“She must’ve paid for everything in cash.”
“No doubt from the tips she got from her clients as well as payment from dangerous mercenaries.” He shoots me a sidelong glance. “Did you read the report I sent you on those two guys? Their jobs were sure as hell messy.”
Brutal, to say the least.
Reino shifts gears. “If her fingerprint is on those pearls, it’s because she handled them. Any news about where the jewelry was bought?”
“The pearls were restrung. The clasp doesn’t have a jeweler logo. They were probably stolen.”
“It doesn’t surprise me that Oxo has vanished. Those mercenaries didn’t work for themselves. They worked for someone, and that someone will want to make sure she keeps her mouth shut. If she’s as clever as she seems, she’ll also know that you’ll hunt her down and make her pay for what happened to Mrs. Morici. She’s not going to hang around and take her chances. By now, she’s either far away from here.” He pauses. “Or she’s six feet under.”
I curl my fingers in a fist on the armrest. “We better find out which it is.”
