Extra Dirty Page 5

  “So you and they …”

  Helen looked up, as if shocked by the implication. “We’re not gay or anything!”

  Yeah, cheating on your husband with a woman. Totally not gay.

  Ruby’s face must have betrayed her feelings, because Helen gave a nervous little laugh and said quickly, “Just a bit of fun, you know? Nothing serious. And more for Bridget than for me.”

  Riiiight.

  “So you do remember going to Caribbean Dreams,” Ruby stated.

  Helen inclined her head. “Sort of. I remember going somewhere. A nice club. Like your neighbor’s but much nicer.”

  “And what happened there?”

  Helen’s brow furrowed. “That’s where it gets a bit vague. I remember us going in, and we were with the girls. At least I think it was with them. A guy was there too. Big guy. Heaps of muscles. Luscious, but I’d never cheat on Bob.”

  Guys count as cheating but female prostitutes don’t? Ruby let that one slide. If she called Helen out every time she contradicted herself, they’d never get anywhere.

  “What else do you remember?”

  Helen shook her head, concentrating. “Not much. More drinks. Some lines. I think we did those in a back room. Brighter. Whiter. That’s all I remember.”

  “When you woke up in the alley, you said you weren’t assaulted but you’d been robbed.”

  “Yeah, but it was strange. They took my cash and jewelry, but not my cards or my phone.”

  “Didn’t want to be traced.”

  Helen shrugged. “I suppose. But I don’t think I even had much cash on me at that point. And I didn’t have any expensive jewelry on either.” She leaned forward, her face desperate. “They must have been after something else, something worse. Do you think they’ve sold Bridget into white slavery?”

  Ruby bit her lip. It sounded overly dramatic. Strip clubs weren’t in the habit of abducting customers. But Bridget certainly had disappeared, and under some pretty bad circumstances. The question was, why not both of them?

  Then a crime statistic she’d heard quoted time and time again came to her mind—that the vast majority of murder victims who are married are killed by their spouse. Those who aren’t usually get killed by someone else close to them.

  Was Aaron Hansen really out golfing?

  Helen sat across from her, staring. Expecting an answer.

  “I prefer not to make assumptions this early in a case,” Ruby said, her voice carrying a note of authority and experience she did not feel. “Caribbean Dreams doesn’t open until 2pm. I’ll go there as soon as it does. I’ll also check on the two working girls who accompanied you. In the meantime, I have a few other things to check out.”

  “All right. All right,” Helen nodded eagerly. “Please hurry. Do you need money?”

  She pulled out her purse.

  Ruby remembered another task she had to do today. Why not make this woman pay for it?

  “All I need is two hundred dollars.”

  “Is that all?” Helen looked surprised at the low amount.

  “For starters. And I need you to rent a car in your name.”

  Helen paused, confused and perhaps a bit suspicious. “Don’t you have a car?”

  “No. And it needs to be in your name because I can’t have my name attached to this case. I work undercover.”

  After a moment, Helen nodded. Then she opened her purse and from a wad of money counted out two hundred Bahamian dollars, which were pegged to the U.S. dollar and so came out to the same amount. Judging from the size of the bankroll, Helen had obviously been expecting to pay more.

  “We can go rent the car right now,” Helen said. “The hotel has a rental agency attached. Bob and Aaron rented a car to go golfing.”

  “Where are they, by the way?”

  Helen’s eyes went wide. “You’re not going to tell them, are you?”

  Jesus Christ, this woman’s friend is missing, maybe dead, and she’s worried about what her husband might think.

  “No, I’m not going to tell them, but I need to check they’re safe.”

  “They’re at Serene View Golf Resort. It’s on the other side of the island.” Ruby nodded. Helen had already told her they were on another part of the island, which is why she had asked for the rental car.

  “Can you send me a photo of them? It might help in the investigation.”

  Helen pulled out her phone. “Sure, but they’re safe. Aaron called me first thing to check on Bridget. I told him she was sick from a bender we went on. That excuse didn’t really fly. He thinks something’s happened and that Bridget is mad at him. He even asked in a roundabout way if she had met a guy while we were out. I can’t hold him off much longer.”

  “Did your husband call you?”

  Helen shook her head and smiled. “When Bob is out golfing, he’s on another planet.”

  Ruby chewed that over for a minute, then stood. “Let’s get that rental car.”

  * * *

  Serene View Golf Resort sure lived up to its name. Ruby drove the rented Lexus up a broad, curving drive around a well-manicured lawn dotted with waving palms. The resort stood on an eminence overlooking the ocean. No beach here, just surf-splashed rocks and a sweeping view of azure sea and cloudless sky.

  The drive led to a large, single story building with a terraced roof. The building was of wood, or at least faced with wood, trying to look like a native bungalow but too sumptuous and far too large. A skinny guy who didn’t look out of his teens opened the car door for her when she stopped out front and gave her a ticket.

  “I’ll give her a complimentary wash, madam,” he said as he took the keys. Ruby shrugged. It was fresh from the rental agency and already spotless.

  She passed through sliding glass doors that swished open as she approached. The air-conditioned interior gave her goosebumps.

  “May I help you, madam?” a Bahamian woman asked from behind the front desk.

  “I’m here to see a guest.” Ruby smiled and kept walking as if being here was the most natural thing in the world.

  Act like you own the place, her dad had said the first time she had entered the ring. Act like you’ve been there for years.

  Team Wayne!

  The woman nodded, her eyes giving her a brief glance. She had, of course, seen the nice new Lexus through the glass doors, and took in the slacks, blouse, and shoes that were the nicest in Ruby’s closet but probably not up to the average income level of this resort.

  They must have passed muster, though, because the woman asked no more questions.

  Ruby passed through a lounge and outside again onto a back deck. Rich-looking guests, mostly women, sat around eating breakfast or enjoying their first drinks of the day, lazily chatting or flipping through magazines. Beyond, she could see the golf course stretching before her, a vast green space with little hills and valleys, sand traps, and ponds.

  Ruby allowed herself a little smile. She had never understood golf. It bored her. Oh, she supposed it took skill, practice, and a sharp eye to play well, but sparring always seemed more gratifying. And she certainly didn’t like that a portion of the Bahamas’ natural beauty had been stripped away, tamed, and made to look like golf courses the world over. Only a few palm trees here and there stood as testament to the fact that they were in the Caribbean and not Scotland.

  That and the astounding view.

  Several golfers, all men, were already out on the green even though it was only 8:30 in the morning. A gray-haired man in plaid pants and a polo shirt swung his club, hitting the ball with a thwack. A golf cart buzzed by. It was quiet here. Even the people on the deck carried on their conversation in subdued tones.

  She paused for a moment, unsure what to do. She needed to check out Bob and Aaron, especially Aaron, while not being obvious. So, she couldn’t very well just stroll on to the green.

  Unless …

  Ruby cut left through a door and found a hallway with doors to the bathrooms and also one that said “Employees Only.”
Perfect! She went through.

  To her relief, in the large room beyond she found exactly what she wanted to find—no employees and, more importantly, a long shelf with supplies, including stacks of men’s and women’s shirts wrapped in plastic. They were all the same white, sporting the resort’s logo on the front.

  She grabbed the nearest one, stuffed it under her own shirt, and ducked out of the room before anyone caught her.

  Ruby’s luck held. She entered the ladies’ room, jumped a bit as a woman coming out startled her, then got into one of the stalls and locked the door behind her.

  Shucking off her own blouse, she got into the employee shirt.

  Getting it on turned out to be a struggle. It was at least one size too small. Maybe if Ruby wasn’t so muscular she might have been able to make it work, but once she managed to worm her way into it and examine herself in the mirror, she looked ridiculous, like an overstuffed sausage. Made her breasts look huge too. An inch of her midriff was exposed as well, but she doubted any of those guys out there would notice with her breasts poking out like rocket nosecones. She had the feeling that if she flexed, the whole shirt would tear to shreds like she was the Incredible Hulk.

  Ruby opened the door to the bathroom, intending on making another run for the employees’ storeroom to hunt for a better fit, but just then a man and a woman in employee shirts passed by, ignoring her and entering the storeroom. They giggled as they closed the door behind them.

  Ruby closed the door to a crack and waited.

  And waited.

  After a few minutes, she snuck out, checked the coast was clear, and tiptoed up to the door.

  Soft moans came from inside.

  Ruby rolled her eyes. Adjusting her shirt to make it as decent as possible, which wasn’t very decent, she tried to look confident as she strolled back onto the deck. Walking as quickly as she could without looking suspicious, she rounded a corner and walked along the edge of the green. A line of golf carts stood not far off. She headed for them.

  An employee walked the other way, holding a clipboard and looking preoccupied. She glanced up at Ruby, her gaze settling on her for an uncomfortable moment before they passed each other.

  Damn it. This isn’t going to work.

  Nevertheless, she got into one of the golf carts, fiddled with the controls for a minute before she got it working, and set off across the green at a sedate 20 mph.

  She wove between the golfers, glancing at the photo Helen had sent her. Bob and Aaron were two nondescript guys who wouldn’t stand out in a crowd, certainly not this crowd. Late thirties, well fed, their smiling faces beamed contentment and confidence at the camera.

  Could Aaron, the blonde guy with the square face and the smile lines around laughing blue eyes, really have offed his wife? Ruby couldn’t put it past him. If she had learned anything as a bartender, it was that looks could be deceiving.

  A golf ball whizzed past, just inches from her face.

  “Stop texting and watch where you’re going!” bellowed a red-faced old man, the authority of his voice undermined by his plaid slacks.

  “Sorry!”

  If she really wanted to play the part of an employee, she should have added a “sir”, but Ruby would go only so far.

  She kept on driving.

  Senator Wishbourne always said how much golf bored her. Maybe I should put “golfsucks” and “ihategolf” and “nogolf” as passwords.

  God, I must have written down two hundred in the past twenty-four hours, all of them shots in the dark. This could go on forever.

  After several minutes, and thinking up several more possible passwords, she began to wonder if Bob and Aaron were on the green at all, but then she spotted them up ahead, nearly where the golf course ended on a promontory girded on three sides by the sea.

  She slowed, coming up behind them. Bob was teeing up. At least Ruby thought he was teeing up. That was the terminology for getting ready to hit the ball, right? She wasn’t sure, although she was sure she didn’t care. Aaron watched him, a golf club in one hand and the other hand on his hip. Even at a distance she could tell from the way they carried themselves that both men were relaxed.

  Decently dressed, too. No plaid pants for these two. Just khaki slacks and the ubiquitous polo shirts.

  Ruby felt an odd sense of relief. She couldn’t have dealt with a murderer who wore plaid pants.

  Bob hit the ball and it went in a smooth, high arc to land near a little pennant in the distance. Aaron laughed and gave his friend a high five.

  Sure doesn’t seem worried about his wife not picking up her phone, Ruby thought. Is he hiding something, or is he so comfortable in life that he can’t imagine something bad happening to Bridget?

  Ruby had always wondered about happy people. They seemed unreal, almost magical. Their easy mannerisms, the way they floated above the world as if nothing could touch them.

  Ruby had never floated above the world. She had crashed through it, smashing it out of her way. Even as a kid she had been like that. She supposed not having a mother had something to do with it. Dad had been her rock, been everything a father should be and more, but he couldn’t be a mother.

  Or maybe her mother wasn’t as big of a part of it as she assumed. Maybe if she had lived Ruby would have been an oddball anyway. As a little girl on Christmas, she had asked for both a Barbie and a GI Joe.

  “Barbie already has a boyfriend,” Dad explained. “His name is Ken.”

  “Ken’s a wimp.”

  Dad only smiled. “So Barbie dumped him for GI Joe?”

  “No, he’s off doing missions all the time and she’s not interested. Barbie wants to dress like him.”

  She got her wish, and she stupefied all her little girl friends when they came over to play by pulling out a Barbie complete with camouflage, assault rifle, and attack helicopter.

  Ruby pulled up behind the two comfortable men, so at ease in this expensive resort though one of their wives was missing. Perhaps it never occurred to them that Bridget Hansen could have gotten herself into trouble. Perhaps all four of them had never been in any real trouble before.

  She parked a few feet away from their cart and stepped out. The two men turned to her.

  “Mr. Aaron Hansen?” she said, walking toward them. As she passed by their golf cart, she noticed a cell phone lying on the front seat. The next moment she saw the telltale rectangular bulge in Bob’s front pocket.

  That phone must be Aaron’s.

  “Yes?” Aaron took a step forward. His voice was cut with nervousness. Was he anticipating news about his wife, or was he hiding something?

  “You’re in room 103, correct?” Ruby said.

  “Huh? No. I’m in 207.”

  The speed and ease with which he said this, and the lack of reaction on his friend’s face, told her this was the truth. He really was staying here.

  Both men stared at her chest. Good. It was better if they didn’t remember her face.

  “Oh, dear,” she said, shifting a little. Two pairs of male eyes followed her movement. “There seems to have been a mix-up. Did someone knock on your door late last night thinking it was his room?”

  “Uh, no,” Aaron replied, still staring at her chest. She was tempted to poke him in the eyes but decided to keep it professional.

  “It would have been quite late, sir. Perhaps midnight or one in the morning?”

  Aaron Hansen shook his head. “No. I was in my room by eleven and I’m a light sleeper. I would have heard.”

  Ruby took a deep breath and let it out in pretend relief. The eyes went up, then down. “That’s good sir, I wouldn’t have wanted you to be bothered. Thank you.”

  She turned and moved away. Aaron teed up or whatever it was that golfers do when they were preparing to hit the ball.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw both men focused on the ball Aaron was preparing to hit. With a deft movement, she snatched Aaron’s phone from the front seat, hid it with her body, and headed back to her own car
t.

  There she bent over as if checking something. Still shielding the phone from view of the two golfers, who weren’t paying attention anyway, she did a trick she had learned from a crime lord just the previous week. The grease on a person’s finger will leave a trace of the pattern code used to unlock the phone. Angle the phone to the light and it’s easily seen. Aaron’s pattern turned out to be a rather unoriginal “Z”.

  The phone would be unlocked going one of two directions, and since people write from left to right, their patterns almost always went the same way. She got the phone open on the first try.

  She scanned through the call registry. Several calls to Bridget’s number over the past 24 hours, plus a couple of calls to Helen, including first thing that morning.

  There were also a couple of texts to Bridget, the latest saying. “Where are you? Is something wrong? You all right?”

  Ruby bit her lip. So he was staying here and calling just like Helen said. That didn’t make him a very likely suspect.

  The thwack of the golf ball made her turn. Aaron had just swung, and his ball flew far toward the distant pennant marking the next hole. Holding the phone behind her back, she took a few steps toward them, intending on dropping the phone back in their cart. Aaron glanced at her, or more accurately, glanced at her tits.

  “Good shot, sir,” she said.

  Aaron looked at where his ball had landed in a sand trap and turned back to her. “You serious?”

  “Um …”

  Before she could think of a more intelligent reply, she heard the buzz of an electric golf cart.

  A cart, driven by a burly man in a resort polo shirt who looked like security, bore down on them. In the passenger’s seat was the female employee who had stared at her back at the resort building.

  “There she is,” the woman said, pointing.

  “Hold it right there, ma’am!” the man shouted.

  Cursing, Ruby tossed Aaron’s phone at him. As he stumbled to catch it, she bolted.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ruby sprinted back to the nearest golf cart and leapt inside. It turned out to be Bob and Aaron’s, but she didn’t have time to run around it and get into her own before the security cart came rushing in at her.