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~ In Gloom ~
Feat. Ser Issac of Clarke & Sonora
~
Feat. Ser Issac of Clarke & Sonora
~
NOBODY ESCAPES ALIVE was spray-painted in blood red on the black, east-facing wall of the strip club named Vixen as Officer Daisy Fuentes stepped out onto Banibi Street West, her circuit of the club’s exterior complete. The alleyways were strewn with loose litter and the occasional tipped-over trashcan, but she’d noted nothing suspicious. Perhaps, if she returned later in the day, she would question one of the homeless vagabonds that were presently curled up beneath stained, ragged blankets and dirty, worn sleeping bags behind the strip club.
“What time is it?”
“Just coming up to 7.15,” her partner replied, checking his watch. The silver name badge on his chest read SOKOLSKY.
“All right. Let’s go and say good morning.”
~
Outside the club, the physically imposing doorman had been compliant but unhelpful, knowing little if anything of the recent disappearances. Inside, the establishment was dimly-lit, the morning sunshine hidden behind blacked-out windows. It was mostly empty, but bass-heavy music still sounded from the speakers as a female figure writhed sensually against a well-oiled pole in the centre of the room. Officer Fuentes scanned her surroundings.
“Low-lifes and wasters,” Sokolsky grumbled. “We’ll find nothing here.”
“Ever the optimist, Tim. You’re a joy to work with, really.”
Sokolsky scoffed, smirked on one side of his mouth, and fixed his gaze on the feminine form in mid-undulation some twenty-five feet away. If it had been a waste of resources to send he and Fuentes down here without so much as calling ahead to see if the owner was present, it was some small solace that he got to begin his day with an eyeful of flesh. He moved towards the stage, and had managed to take four steps and was passing a black, velvet curtain when a figure materialised from the gloom and appeared by his side, that same curtain gently settling back into place behind her.
“Hey, handsome!,” the woman chimed, positively purring in a rich, southern drawl as she laid one manicured hand on his shoulder. She wore nothing but a black bikini and platform heels, and even in the dim light her eyes seemed to sparkle when she smiled. “Lookin’ for a little distraction from all that important police work?”
The officer cleared his throat and stood up as straight as could be, one hand flattening his police shirt against his broad chest.
"Looking for information."
“Well, I’d be happy to help. I never could say no to man in uniform,” she giggled. “I’m Mona.”
Rolling her eyes at the pair of them, Fuentes turned and walked away, green eyes scanning the booths. She had a feeling that Sokolsky might be right. She could count the number of patrons present on one hand: two sat before the stage, and two more were in separate booths with separate girls. The booth nearest to her contained a middle-aged man in a drab, worn suit, clean-shaven and heavy-set—he looked like once-budding young chemist who had fallen into a life of high-school teaching—and a pretty young brunette who was dressed as a schoolgirl, her blouse unbuttoned to bare a broad sliver of her pale midriff and the inner curves of small, round breasts as she rolled her hips to the music.
“Excuse me.” The officer spoke authoritatively. “I’d like to ask you a few questions about a missing persons case.”
~
“Anything?” Fuentes asked when the two were outside.
“Nada. Nobody’s seen shit. We’d be better off checking for CCTV cameras around here.” Sokolsky gestured with a squat finger to the general surrounding area. Fuentes nodded.
“We’ll do a sweep, come back when the owner’s here.”
"All right. Let's get back to the car."
Above street level, in a room directly above the Vixen, a dark curtain peeled back but a fraction, and two keen, inquisitive eyes watched the officers step into their car and pull away.
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