“What did they mean, ‘be dead’?” Maddocks said.
“I ... I got the sense she felt they would hurt her.”
“You mean, kill her?”
He nodded. “There was also talk about taking her overseas. They were really selling to her how lucrative it would be ...” His voice choked on his emotions. He coughed. “That’s why I gave her a Saint Christopher. To keep her safe as she negotiated this part of her ... journey.”
“How was Gracie introduced to the Bacchanalian Club? Did she tell you?” Maddocks said.
“Her boyfriend, or at least she thought he was her boyfriend at the time. A guy she called J.J.”
Angie’s gaze flashed to the recording light, just to be sure they were getting this.
“Jon Jacques?” Maddocks said.
“I think that was his name. He apparently met her at some tennis club where her old boyfriend from school practiced. After she broke up with her old boyfriend, this new guy dated her, gave her stuff, money. Lots of it. She said that he took her fancy places, made her feel really special. Then one night he brought a friend on one of their dates. He took her and this guy to a hotel. It turns out this friend was Damián. He—”
“Damián who?” Maddocks said. “For the record.”
“Damián Yorick. Gracie’s boyfriend wanted her to have sex with Damián while he watched. She didn’t want to do it, but this J.J. coerced her into it, saying she’d be doing it for him, and it would show how much she loved and trusted him. So she did. Then she ended up having sex with them both. The next time she resisted, but J.J. knocked her about until she cried and gave in. And then he brought her huge gifts and was so sweet and all that. This happened a few more times. Then Damián took them both to theAmanda Rose, where J.J. plied Gracie with drinks—spiked—and he asked her to have sex in the lounge with one of the club members while a few men watched. He said it was a special nightclub. The club member paid her a huge sum, and the guys who watched paid, too. After that, J.J. and Damián treated her like a princess. Then they brought her back the following Tuesday to be with two more club members.”
“And what about Zach? He liked Faith?”
“Yeah. She was up for the rougher stuff, for a price.”
“He hurt her, then, like his others?”
“Slapped her around. Split her lip one time. Did his dog collar and leash thing. He used the equipment in a special room the B.C. provided. Whips. Ropes. Cuffs. Straps. Spikes—other sex toys that he said hurt her. He was trying to shock me with the details. Enjoyed it—watching my face when he recounted everything he’d done.”
“The B.C. management okay with what he did?”
He fiddled with his thumbnail. “I guess. I mean, they gave him Faith, who was supposed to be up for it.”
“Who’s in charge of this club?”
“Madame. And her assistant.”
“Madame?”
“Madame Vee. That’s all I know. And her assistant, Zina—a big cross-gender person. Like seven feet tall. Funny skin color—sort of ash white. Colorless eyes. Hair dyed silver.”
“This Madame Vee—old, young? Nationality? Accent?”
“I never saw her or her assistant until the night Faith stopped breathing. When that happened, Zina came in to clean things up, and he—I mean, they—sent us to Madame’s office, where she made sure that we were going to be okay.”
“How sweet,” said Angie.
He glanced up at her. “I mean, okay to not tell the police.”
“Ah, like a debriefing,” she said. “As in,If you tell, you go to prison for murder,that kind of thing?”
He looked down at the table.
“Tell me about the night Faith was killed,” Maddocks said. “When was that?”
“Tuesday, November twenty-eighth.”
“What happened exactly?”
