The Golden Touch

[Robbie C.]

So I took a stab at a Trudy story. Not sure how it turned out, though. It's set during the series timeline, between Missing Hours and Like a Hurricane.

 

Trudy Joplin tugged her blue dress into place and checked her hair in the rearview mirror of her Mazda one last time before stepping out into the bright Miami morning. It was her first day back after a week of medical leave, and she didn’t want the rest of the team looking at her like she was crazy. It was bad enough that she thought she might be crazy.

The houseboat had stopped appearing in her dreams last Friday, but she wasn’t ready to look at a jar of peanut butter. Locking the car, she headed into OCB, nodding to the uniform at the front desk before heading down to the squad room. The clicking of her high heels on the dirty tile floor seemed extra-loud today, and she forced a smile on her face. They’d offered her more leave, but she turned it down. She needed to get back to work, to get her brain occupied again. She hadn’t felt this broken since the day the two officers came to her front door and told them her brother had been murdered.

Even the smell was the same: stale cigarette smoke and sweat intermixed with stabbing jolts of expensive cologne or perfume depending on which way the air conditioning was pushing. Stan was the first to see her, sitting at his desk writing up what looked to be another pawn shop sting. He grinned. “Look who’s back! Good to see ya, Trudy!”

“Nice to see you, too, Stan.” She hugged him, amazed as always at how well he’d held it together after Larry was killed. She knew what that kind of loss did to a person, so she went out of her way to be kind to Stan.

“Hey, lady.” Gina looked up from her own stack of paperwork. “Good to see you.”

Trudy looked around, seeing the two empty desks. “Where are…”

“The Hardy Boys?” Stan’s voice had a bite to it. “Out chasing bikinis and running up the expense accounts.”

“Now, Stan.” Gina smiled. “They’re following up on a lead about the Mendozas. Stan’s probably right, though.”

Somehow Castillo’s door opened without them hearing a sound. “Detective Joplin. A moment?”

Trudy swallowed. She’d hoped to put this moment off until she was a bit more centered, but she should have known. Martin Castillo had a knack for knowing when you were vulnerable and making his move. “Be right there, lieutenant.”

Stan lowered his voice. “It should be ok. He’s in a good mood.”

“How can you tell?”

“He’s talking. When Castillo’s pissed he doesn’t talk.”

Trudy nodded, knowing Stan was right. Still, any visit to his office was unsettling. Unless you were Crockett.

Castillo sat behind his desk, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, lieutenant. I know you think I should take more time, but I need to get back to work. To do something other than stare at the walls and wonder if I’m crazy.”

“You aren’t. If I thought you were you wouldn’t be here.” He looked up at her. “Maybe you were drugged. Maybe it was something else. There are things in this world we don’t understand. But you’re a good cop. And I need good cops.”

“You’ve got a whole team.”

“No. We’re still down one. And I will not replace Zito just to have a body in a chair. You’re a great detective, Trudy, and I need you on the streets.”

Trudy shifted from one foot to the other, hearing the pain in the man’s voice when he said Larry’s name. “I won’t let you down, lieutenant.”

“I know. I’ll be putting you with Calabrese and Switek. They’ve got a case that looks complicated. And Crockett and Tubbs are still after the Mendozas.”

“I though they had a good in with that informant Stan and Larry lined up.”

“They did. Until he was found dead in a car parked along the Expressway.” Castillo looked down at the top of his desk. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Back in the squad room Trudy looked over at Stan. “I didn’t know Gustavo got killed.”

“Yeah. I think the Hardy Boys pushed him too hard. The kid was small-time. They started leaning on him to be big time.” Stan shrugged. “Another notch in Crockett’s belt, I guess.”

Gina cleared her throat. “But that’s not our case, Stan. Did the lieutenant…”

“He said I should work with you two.” Trudy walked over to her desk, smiling when she caught sight of the ‘Big Booty Trudy’ nameplate. The boys might have been trying to be funny, but she was quite proud of her backside.

In another time, and another place, Trudy knew she might have been working the streets for real instead of just pretending. Growing up on the edges of Overton she’d seen the bad, but also clung to the good. Memories of riding with her brother when he took his Mustang out to find street races. Playing with the other kids on the block on those warm summer evenings. And the sound of her grandmother’s voice singing in the small apartment kitchen. But there was also the bad, topped by the cops telling them her brother had been murdered over nothing. The case was never solved, and her mother remained convinced it was because no one cared about another black man being gunned down. Trudy’s decision to join the force had strained family relations for years.

Looking up, she shook herself out of her memories. Looking back wouldn’t change a damned thing. “So what’s the case, partners?”

“We’ve been getting reports of a new pimp down around Rizzo’s.” Stan looked at his notes. “Seems Noogie’s a DJ there and him and Annie kinda keep an eye on the girls. This guy’s supposed to be a real piece of work. Likes to tattoo his girls. Puts his brand on ‘em is what he calls it.”

Gina nodded. “And at least two girls who said no to him have disappeared. No bodies, no traces.”

“And you think he’s recruiting them from Rizzo’s?”

“We don’t know.” Stan shook his head. “Getting a straight story out of Noogie is like getting a square deal from that dolt Moreno. One minutes he says this guy is, and then next he says he’s got no idea. Annie’s no more helpful. I think she’s baked half the time now.”

“She’s using?”

“We think so.” Stan nodded. “It’s hard to say with either of those nut jobs, but my money’s on yes.”

“I don’t think Noogie is, though.” It was Gina’s turn to shake her head. “Ever since they hired him as a DJ down there he’s been clean.”

It made sense to Trudy. Some of her old friends had been just like Noogie. Most of them were dead now, though. “You give them a purpose and some of them do clean up. Noogie wasn’t in that deep to begin with, so this might have been his thing.” She looked at Stan and Gina. “Let me talk to him. I grew up with guys just like him. I might be able to get the truth out of him.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, I do. Guys like him hustle because it’s how you stay alive down there. To last as long as he has takes brains and not just fancy footwork.” Trudy shuddered, remembering old, bad times. “Yeah, it takes a lot more than that. Izzy wouldn’t last ten minutes around some of the people Noogie rubs shoulders with every day.”

Stan scratched at the stubble coating his chin. Trudy watched him, waiting to see how he’d react. But there was someone else going on behind his eyes. She wondered. He’d been distant ever since Larry had been murdered, and it seemed to get worse with every passing day. Maybe later she’d mention it to Gina. “Yeah, I can see that. Izzy’s great with the old ladies and the guys playing canasta outside the beachfront hotels. Noogie…he’s a whole different breed of cat. One I ain’t sure’s been classified.”

“Oh, he has. Hustler. He doesn’t make big deals, but he always makes enough to get by. It’s how he stays alive.” Trudy looked over at the picture board. “We got anything on this mystery pimp?”

“No picture if that’s what you’re lookin’ for.” Stan pulled out a battered notebook. “He goes by the name Midas, because…”

“Everything he touches turns to gold.” Trudy sighed. “These bastards are so damned original.”

“He is when it comes to his mark.” Stan pointed at the picture. “Tattoos a damned gold bar right between their shoulder blades. We pulled a few of them in for questioning, and his girls don’t talk.”

“They’re scared. We don’t know what he’s doing, but it’s gotta be bad.” Gina looked at her own notes. “We’ve pulled in six girls with the tattoo so far. Not one has said a word. But one of them got hysterical when we mentioned Midas’ name.”

“They have anything else in common?”

“Half of them worked at Rizzo’s at least a couple nights a week.” Stan pointed at the pictures. “Other than that, they’re all tall and don’t have fake tits…uh…I mean features. Seems he likes his girls natural. At least two of ‘em were blondes when they worked Rizzo’s but were going back to their natural hair color when we brought ‘em in.”

Trudy smiled. “At least Annie’s safe from him, then. Should put Noogie’s mind at ease.”

“The way this guy moves we thought he must have been in the life for a bit.” Gina frowned. “But we ran his MO through the files and came up empty. We’ve got calls in to Lauderdale and Atlanta, but so far nothing.”

“Maybe he changed it up.” Trudy kept staring at the pictures of the six girls who’d been interviewed. And then the two they knew had vanished after Midas tried to bring them in. Looking for something…anything…that might connect them. “Did any of them have priors?”

“Aside from solicitation and the occasional drug bust? Not really.” Stan turned pages. “One of them had been picked up for theft, and the redhead who went missing actually had a court date for grand theft auto.”

Gina narrowed her eyes. “What are you thinking, Trudy?”

“I don’t know yet. Just trying to find something connecting these girls. He had to find them somehow, and not just through Rizzo’s or word of mouth. Where were their priors?”

“I’ll have to check. We didn’t pay much attention because they weren’t in the area they were working or where the missing girls vanished.”

“Let me know when you get that, Stan. It could be important.” Trudy could feel it now, that little tickle she got when something was dancing just out of reach but starting to get closer. The only thing that would ruin it now was the lieutenant telling them they had to go undercover as strippers or hookers at Rizzo’s. Turning to Gina, she put on her most persuasive smile. “Want to take a ride to Rizzo’s?”

“Let me make sure my shots are up to date.” Gina leaned across the table. “You got something, partner?”

“I don’t know yet. But I want to talk to Noogie. If you can get Annie away from him it would help. Maybe interview her somewhere or ask her where she got her boobs.”

“You owe me a bottle of wine. But why get Noogie alone?”

“So I can talk to him street to street. We’re from the same place, but took different turns.”

They drove downtown in relative silence, Trudy content to let Gina drive while she thought things through. It was good to be back, and so far neither of them had looked at her like she was sprouting a second head. But she hadn’t had to deal with Crockett or Tubbs yet, and wasn’t looking forward to the experience. Maybe they’d be so busy chasing the Mendozas they’d stay away until this case was over and she’d proven herself again. Although sometimes she wondered if she’d ever be more than window dressing or a distraction to those two.

“Serious thoughts, partner?”

She almost jumped at Gina’s voice and smiled to cover it. “Not really. Just sorting through what you both said back there.”

“I know I speak for Stan, too. We’re glad you’re back. This case is going nowhere fast and we need your help.”

“So you don’t worry…”

“No. Not really.” Gina looked straight ahead, but Trudy could see her lip quivering as she spoke. “You’ve been there for me so many times, Trudy. After that rape. My shootings. Every time I made an ass out of myself with Sonny. I”d be a damned poor partner if I turned my back on you now. We may never know what happened, but it’s over now. Now we just need to break this case and keep Stan going.”

“Is he that bad?” Trudy knew the answer without Gina saying a word.

“Some days he’s good, but other days…” She sighed. “I don’t know where his head’s at. He doesn’t quote Elvis near as much, and any time he’s in the room with Sonny I keep waiting for the fireworks to start.”

Trudy nodded. The whole thing with Larry still brought a bad taste to her mouth. It wasn’t the first time she though Sonny had taken things too far too fast, and she doubted it would be the last. “I heard before I went on leave that the lieutenant was thinking of parking Sonny on some bodyguard detail.”

“Hasn’t happened yet, but I keep hearing the same rumor. I don’t think it would be a bad thing, though. Give those two some distance and maybe let Stan get back on his feet.” Gina sighed again. “And here we are. Hope your shots are up to date.”

“Last time I checked.” Trudy slipped on her sunglasses and felt the familiar weight of her snub nose .38 in her clutch. “Let’s get this over with.”

Rizzo’s was usually quiet in the middle of the afternoon, and today was no exception. The mid-shift girls went through their dances on automatic, with the sweaty fifty-somethings around the poles tossing ones more from reflex than appreciation. But she did notice the music was better than usual, and understood why when the song ended. “Let’s give it UP for Tiny Tina and her Ta-Tas!” The short girl on the center pole did a quick twirl and waved toward the DJ booth. “Now that’s a show, gents! And now the Noog-man needs him some lubrication, and you will too when Foxy Roxy rocks your damned world on the center stage!”

In spite of herself Trudy smiled. “He’s got quite a line, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. And there’s Annie. I’ll keep her busy, but you’d better get to Noogie quick.”

Nodding her thanks, Trudy moved toward the door at the base of the elevated DJ booth. One man reach out, and snatched his hand back when she snarled, “Touch me and I rip that hand off and stuff it up your ass.” The street flooded back with unexpected ease, and she felt herself slipping into the old swagger. “Noogie! I need a word.”

Noogie Lamonte turned, his red sunglasses pushed up on his forehead. An old Rolling Stones t-shirt was sweat-plastered to his upper body, and he had forced himself into leather pants that might not come off without some kind of surgery. “Truday with the bootay! How long’s it been since my eyes got to see your beauty up close and personal like?”

“Not all that long ago. Look, we need to talk.”

He looked back at the booth, and then toward the bar, grinning when he saw Annie in deep conversation with Gina. “We got five., then the Noog-man has to get back to spinning the wax. If the booties ain’t shakin’, money we ain’t makin’, if you get what I’m sayin’.”

They were just inside the dressing room door when Trudy turned. “You can drop the act, Noogie. We’re both Overton born. I know how you have to run your hustle, but don’t try it on me. I need to know what you knew about this Midas bastard and the missing girls.”

Noogie looked around, then chuckled. “I shoulda known a sister like you wouldn’t fall for no jive. Look, I don’t know much about this cat other than he’s a mean, sadistical bastard. Word on the street is he pissed off some cats up north and took to the road looking for warmer climes to work his game. He likes his girls au natural, no fake titties or bleach jobs in his stable. I also hear he likes to poach from other pimps’ stables, goin’ after what they have that meets his requirement. Don’t know that he’s killed any of ‘em yet, but you know it’s comin’.”

“You can play that stupid game with the others all damned week, but not with me. We clear on that?”

Noogie nodded. “Clear as always, Trudy. I don’t jive you, not a bit. But this Midas makes me nervous, and that ain’t no lie.”

“What about the missing girls?”

“They said no, so he made ‘em go. At least that’s the word, and ain’t no one to say otherwise. He ain’t made no run at Rizzo’s cause he knows the brother is connected, but I think he wants the ground around it for his own.”

“He come in much?”

“Once or twice, maybe. I ain’t never seen the cat, just his signature.” Noogie looked around like he suddenly realized where he was. “Oh, man! I gotta get back out there. Foxy Roxy gets all kinda bitchy if she starts late.”

Trudy watched the short, thin man scurry back to his perch and settle in. Within two seconds he was the Noog-Man, strutting with his voice on a stage of his own creation. “All right, people! The Noog-man is relaxed, refreshed, and rejuvenated. And you know what that means! Titties! And here comes Foxy Roxy an’ hers!”

“I never thought I’d get away from Annie.” Gina shuddered. “I can’t believe I was dumb enough to ask about her boob job. She wanted me to feel them.”

“Well…did you?”

“God no! I was afraid they’d explode or something. It’s like the quack stuffed two of those Bugs Bunny bombs in there…one for each side.”

Trudy laughed, feeling the tension slide out of her shoulders. As they drove back toward OCB she told Gina what she’d learned. “I don’t think he’s holding anything back, or if he is it’s not important.,” she finished, looking out the window without seeing as she focused on the case. “Maybe we can get Stan to shift the focus of the MO search to New York City. They might have something on file, at least with the tattoos.”

“Rico could call…”

“You really think he’s got any juice left up there after everything that’s happened? No, better we let Stan do his ‘aw shucks guys’ routine.” Trudy smiled, then paused, realizing how harsh she’d sounded. “Sorry, Gina. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“You didn’t. Just said what we both know. And Stan is good at getting that kind of stuff out of other agencies.” She paused. “And you don’t think Noogie knew anything about the missing girls?”

“No, I don’t think he does.” Trudy thought back to his expressions. “But I could see it in his eyes. He’s worried about them even when he’s trying to talk tough.”

“Why would he care?”

“Who knows. Lots of reasons, maybe.” Trudy thought back to her brother, and how losing him had set her on the path she still walked every day. “Maybe something happened to a sister or cousin. I don’t know. But where we come from it happens all the time.” She stopped talking, knowing she’d said too much. Even to Gina. “Even Noogie’s gonna have a heart somewhere in there.”

“I suppose so.” Gina parked the car, and they walked back to the squad room.

Stan looked up. “You get anything out of the leather-clad nut job aside from babble and maybe fleas?”

Trudy chuckled. “Yeah.” She filled Stan in quickly. “See if you can get anything on that tattoo from NYPD or maybe their state police. We need to move on this fast. I don’t think this Midas is done, and we don’t need more girls dying.”

Trudy’s apartment was small, just big enough for her and the piano. Kicking off her heels, she locked the apartment door and walked over, running her fingers along the cool ivory keys. Sliding onto the bench, she ran through a few scales, clunky at first but growing smoother with each repetition. Working the rust out that came from not playing enough. As she kept warming up she looked at the art on the wall behind the piano. Some of it hers, some of it from other people. Relics of a time long passed.

When she told the story in her head it always started with ‘once upon a time.’ And it had been a fairy tale, though she’d not known it at the time. She remembered the day her grandmother had given her the piano. “You’ve got such talent, child,” she’d said with her usual smile. “Play in one of them orchestras one day I bet.”

“No, grams. I wanna play jazz. Like Oscar Peterson or Art Tatum.” She smiled, remembering the confidence in her own fifteen year old voice. And her grams hadn’t laughed at her. Just smiled and said it would take a lot of work.

Without realizing it Trudy had started playing the first chords of “April in Paris,” one of grams’ favorite songs. Maybe it was the memories, or the watercolor she’d done during her first semester at college; a washed-out version of the Eifel Tower hanging on the wall behind the piano. Her teachers all said she had talent to spare, and with a little more training she’d be having her own shows in a handful of years. But then the money ran out, there were no scholarships, and the need to make a living pushed everything else aside. It was then she’d remembered the one officer who’d been kind when they told her about her brother, the one who checked back from time to time and was always embarrassed and even angry they had nothing to tell her. And she never forgot that he’d been white, while the disinterested detective had been black. It planted a little seed of hope in her that even now refused to wither. And it also told her where to go.

She took the song its own way now, blending the classic notes with flavors she’d heard down in Little Havana. Infusing the classic tune with a bit of salsa and spark. Again, her grams had been the one who’d understood when she told the family about her academy application. “It was that one, wasn’t it?” she’d asked, already knowing the answer. “That’s good, child. You find the good in folks, in things. Don’t you ever lose that.” Then the song took a darker turn, fading into a minor key. Grams had died three weeks before graduation.

Now she was a detective. Four years of paying her dues in uniform while still taking gigs on the side. That was where she’d met David. She’d fallen in love with his voice first, then him, only to fall back out of love when she saw what his life was like. Salsa crept back into the tune. When they were good they were really good, but she could see him turning down the path she’d turned away from and knew she had to let him go. It was easier the second time. By then she’d found her calling.

Vice was a grind, at least at first. Coming out of uniform she’d done her time as flashy bait, dressed up as a hooker out on the street with her new partner Gina, letting the sharks sniff before someone else speared them. Lou Rodriguez had been kind in his gruff way, helping her make the adjustment and making sure the two girls always had good cover. Gina had only joined the squad a couple of months before, so they learned the ropes together. She’d liked Stan and Larry from the beginning; two goofy guys who always managed to show up just in time to save their bacon when a trap went sideways. And then there was Sonny Crockett…

Even now Trudy wasn’t totally sure how she felt about Sonny. He’d been supportive as hell after her first shooting, but before that he’d been distant and even a bit dismissive. She’d known from the beginning he and Gina had something going on, maybe dating back to her time in uniform. Sonny was alternately a cowboy, running off on his own, or doing his bit for the squad as a whole. The trouble was you never knew which Sonny was going to show up. And when the wrong one showed up it was bad news all around. Larry Zito’s death was something she was only now forgiving him for. Most days, at least.

Rico was still a wild card in his brash New York way. They both liked jazz, but he was more of a modernist than she was and he also trailed too close in Sonny’s wake for her taste. They got along, but Rico was always determined to keep a certain distance between himself and the rest of the squad. Except maybe his partner. But even then Trudy sensed he kept something back.

The tune had gone pure salsa now as her thoughts turned to Martin Castillo. While the rest of them wore designer clothes, he stuck with plain black suits. He cultivated an aura of mystery unlike anyone she’d ever met before, and his silences were legendary in Metro-Dade and beyond. There was a pain about him she’d never been able to pin down, even after the death of one of his old friends. But he also cared about his people with a depth she’d never seen in a commander before.

With a start she realized she’d never really given Castillo much thought until now. But after the whole houseboat thing he’d been very supportive, even calling once during the week she’d been off to see how she was doing and letting her know again she could take all the time she needed. Most bosses would have written her off as a nut case and arranged a quick transfer to Traffic. But not him. He had this way of just knowing what she needed. No words, no awkward questions. And she felt comfortable around him, something she hadn’t felt for years.

The tune trailed off, and she rested her fingers on the now-warm ivory keys. The usual warm glow filled her soul, still floating on its own path through the music. She let it go, knowing her best thoughts usually came back with it after such excursions. When it did she’d make dinner and maybe sketch a bit before a final glass of wine and bed. As the glow faded and her soul settled back in, she found herself wondering what Castillo was doing that night.

 

Morning found the three detectives assembled in the squad room going over their notes. Stan munched on a donut as he flipped through a stack of oversized print-outs. “That NYPD idea was pure gold, ladies. They know this Midas chump pretty well. Real name is Grover Antoine.” He chuckled. “With a name like a muppet I can see why he’d go with Midas. Anyhow, he used to run a string of girls in Brooklyn until he got caught up in a turf war with a bigger asshole named Isiah Carter. His street name was Flash because he likes to set rivals on fire. Smoking them in more ways than one, I guess. Anyhow, old Midas disappeared and they figured he’d been guest of honor at one of Flash’s weenie roasts until they got my query. They’ve got warrants on him for two open homicides and would love to talk with him when we’re done.”

Gina winced. “Sounds like they were made for each other. Did they have anything we can use?”

Stan opened the stack to a page dotted with highlighter marks. “Maybe. They’re passing it on to Brooklyn Vice who might have more complete files on the guy. Looks like he did the same thing up there with the tattoos. Same general girl profile, too. There’s a note that he went for beauty school dropouts and college girls. Kids who needed money.”

“Lots of that around here.” Trudy sighed, sipping her coffee and letting her brain turn over what Stan had said. “I don’t want to wait for more from Brooklyn. We need to get a rope around this guy and fast. From the way Noogie was talking he’s a fast-mover and already has his hooks in more than a few girls. That’s gonna draw the wrong kind of attention and start a shooting war down there. And we know the girls always get caught in the middle.”

Gina nodded. “And that assumes Rizzo’s owners don’t take offense to his moving in on their territory.”

“Noogie made some noise about that. So far he’s avoided their full-time girls, but this guy sounds like he’s got more ambition than he does common sense. Sooner or later he’s gonna try to play in that pool. And Rizzo’s guys are old school. They’ll hit back. Hard.” Trudy looked at the picture board again. “What else do we know about the missing girls? He’s gotta be spotting them somewhere other than Rizzo’s. Bounce that against the girls who we know work for him and see what comes up. If we can figure out where he’s hunting we can set our own trap.”

Stan nodded. “Good thinking, Trudy. I can check the ones we’ve talked to if you want to take the missing ones. Be faster if we split it up.”

“Sure. Gina, you want to give Stan a hand? You each take three and I’ll work these two. Start with their records and work out from there. If they were on parole we’ll have employment notes. Stuff like that. Anything we can use to put lines between these girls.”

It was always hard when a human being was reduced to sheets of paper in a battered manila folder, and even more when you didn’t know if the person was still alive. Both girls had records, giving her a starting point. And whoever had done the initial interviews actually bothered to fill out the forms. She felt a quick pang when she saw one of the signatures scrawled on the redhead’s interview. Larry Zito. Larry had always been thorough. It looked like she’d been swept up in one of the periodic King’s Pawn stings, trying to sell a watch reported stolen by a Japanese businessman who didn’t want his name recorded. There were court notes and…

Grabbing the other folder, Trudy flipped through until she came to the same form in the other girl’s jacket. “Guys, were any of your girls represented by Lydia James from the public defender’s office?”

Stan almost spilled his coffee. “Damn! I was just getting into this one.” Papers riffled as he turned pages. “She shows up in here twice.”

Gina nodded. “Here, too. And the other one. Let me check the third.”

Trudy smiled, but her eyes were dark and mean. “I think we found our dotted line. We need to bring the lieutenant up to speed. We might need to send Miss James some business.”

Martin Castillo looked like he’d slept at his desk. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, and Trudy wondered if he ever really slept at all. “What do you have?”

The others nodded, and Trudy spoke for the team, letting Castillo know what they’d found. “We’ve looked at eight girls, including the two that are missing. Each one of them had at least one encounter with Lydia James. I know that office is understaffed, but that’s just too much of a coincidence for us. It’s the only thing those girls have in common aside from their physical stuff.”

“And Brooklyn Vice?”

“We haven’t heard back from them yet.” Trudy took a deep breath, mustering her courage. “Lieutenant, I don’t want to wait for them. Let us come up with a plan to draw this Midas out in the open.”

“What were you thinking?”

She looked at the others and pushed ahead, putting what she’d seen in the file together as she spoke. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve been busted as part of my streetwalker cover. Switek can stye a bust, and I’ll request James as my PD.”

Gina shook her head. “How do you know he’ll bite?”

Trudy smiled, seeing a flash of something in Castillo’s eyes she couldn’t identify. “He doesn’t have any black girls in his string yet. And this is all natural.” She did a turn, still liking the way the blue dress accented her figure. “I might see if I can get Noogie to talk me up a bit, too. Let the word come from two sides.”

“Do you think he’s spotting for Midas?”

“No, lieutenant. I don’t. I think if he could he’d drop Midas himself. He’s a hustler, but he doesn’t hurt working girls. But he does talk, and Midas seems to have Rizzo’s staked out. We give it a couple of days, and if he doesn’t bite we can always try Gina.”

Gina smiled. “Put this spicy Italian in front of him and we’ll be good to go.”

“It’s risky either way. And backup is limited. Crockett’s about to go on a special assignment and I need Tubbs to keep working the Mendoza angles.”

“I got this, lieutenant. I’ll keep ‘em safe.”

Castillo looked down at the top of his desk. A minute passed. Then two. Then he looked up. “Do it. Submit the plan and I’ll make the calls. We should have everything in place by tomorrow morning. I’ll also prepare a warrant request for Lydia James’ bank records. If he’s paying her off something might show up there. I want the case against her to be airtight. If she’s selling her clients, I want her to pay to the fullest extent possible.”

Back in the squad room, Trudy let the air out of her lungs with a low hiss. “I can’t believe he’s letting us go ahead.”

“Why?” Stan fed a form into his typewriter and started banging away. Somehow he’d ended up being the fastest typist in the unit and usually did all the forms if they were in a hurry. “It’s a damned good plan, Trudy. Better than some I’ve seen the Hardy Boys come up with.”

Gina nodded. “He’s right. It’s a good, solid plan based on the evidence we’ve got right now.”

“Thanks.” Trudy smiled. The praise felt good, but at the same time unearned. She’d just said things as they came to her. But if Castillo signed off on it there must be something to it. And they’d gone to him first instead of just presenting him with something they’d already started. Lord knows she’d seen that happen more than a few times. “Let’s get it written up and get to work. I hate to say it, Gina, but that means we gotta go back to Rizzo’s. Or at least I do.”

“We’ll both go. That way if I have to step in it won’t look like I just appeared out of thin air.” She looked down at her light dress and sighed. “But now I gotta go get my working clothes on. At least you came prepared.”

“Something just told me to.” Trudy smiled, not really sure why she’d chosen this dress today. She liked how she looked in it, but she hadn’t been thinking of impressing anyone when she was picking out clothes this morning.

Once Gina headed for the locker room, Stan turned to Trudy. “Thanks in there for speaking up. The lieutenant and I…”

She nodded. “I get it. It’s always hard to know what he’s thinking. I just decided to go for it.” She was about to go on when Crockett and Tubbs breezed in.

Sonny was heated up about something. “I don’t get it, Rico. What’s so damned important we have to break off a meet to come in?”

“You got me, partner. Castillo said come in, so I come in.” Rico grinned, looking over at Stan and Trudy. “You haven’t heard anything, have you?”

She shook her head. “No. We’re neck-deep in a case, though.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure it’s all very exciting.” Sonny paced by his desk. “But we’re this close to bringing in one of the Mendoza brothers’ enforcers.”

Stan grimaced. “You said that last week, Crockett. And the week before that. I did hear Castillo say something about a special detail for you, though.”

“Special detail? We got a chance to break up one of the biggest cartels in South Florida and I catch a special detail?”

“That’s right.” Castillo’s voice echoed from his office doorway. “Crockett. Tubbs. Now.”

Trudy looked at Stan and winked. “That was just mean.”

“So’s talking about our case like it’s nothing special.” Stan grimaced, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, Trudy. He just gets under my skin these days.”

“I get it, Stan. I miss him, too. But we got to focus on this now. Midas has probably killed two people already, maybe more. We only know about these two because of Noogie.”

Gina came out dressed in one of her street combos; tight skirt and low-cut top with dangerously high heels. “Sounds like I missed the fireworks.”

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here before more go off.” Trudy looked at the frosted glass of the office door. “Should be any second now.”

“What!” The single word leaked around the edges of the door like it was wide open. Stan chuckled. “I’ll go see if that Brooklyn stuff is here yet. You ladies have fun at Rizzo’s.”

 

Noogie was on break when they sauntered into Rizzo’s, sitting at the bar with Annie and a glass of beer. “Well, well! If it ain’t my two next-favorite ladies. After my main squeeze of course.” He looked over and blew Annie a kiss.

“That’s what you always say, Noogie. When are you gonna get me a singing gig?”

“Soon, baby. Soon. I got a call in with the cat who owns Rumour, and that dude with the cash down at Last Call wants to hear you audition. Just no country, dig? The cat ain’t into hillbilly music.”

“Sure, baby.” Annie looked over at Gina and Trudy with bored eyes. “I’ll let you talk business.”

Trudy tried not to smile. Noogie’s idea of domestic bliss clearly left a lot to be desired. “We need you to put the word out about two new freelancers hanging out at Rizzo’s.”

“Are you crazy? Insane in the membrane? That cat Midas gonna hear that word.”

“And that’s what we want. We’re gonna take him down. But we need to get him in the open first.”

“So the Noog-man was right about this dude?”

“Yes.” Trudy smiled. “He’s a bad guy from New York City. We might not have made the connection if you hadn’t told us about those two missing girls.”

“Just don’t let word get around the Noog-man has a heart.”

Gina chuckled. “Your secret’s safe with us, Noogie. Just get the word moving.”

“You came to the right man. They call Noogie the pony express because he always delivers. Twenty-four seven I’m always spreadin’ the word.”

Back on the street, Gina turned to Trudy. “You were right about him.”

“I knew plenty like him growing up. Some were bad clear through, but most of them had a soft spot somewhere. You just had to find it.”

“How did you know that was his?”

“He doesn’t get anything out of it. If he was running girls, I wouldn’t believe a word he said. But Noogie stays clear of that. He’s all about moving stolen goods, running cons with Izzy, and now spinning discs at Rizzo’s. These guys find their racket and stick to it. It’s how they survive. The ones who branch out end up floating in the river.”

“It must have been tough.”

Trudy shrugged, knowing Gina could never really understand just how it had been. “You deal with it. If you don’t it deals with you. We’d better get back and see if Stan’s got anything new.”

Stan was grinning ear to ear when they walked in. “You missed a hell of a Sonny temper tantrum. Castillo’s got him babysitting some Federal witness or another and he just about lost his shit all over the office. Rico’s out now calming him down.”

Gina’s face changed, and Trudy could see what was coming in her eyes. “Those are tough details. And Sonny has put in a lot of time on the Mendoza thing.”

“And burned my informant in the process.” Stan shrugged. “At the end of the day we go where the lieutenant tells us, or we drop our badges on his desk and go become mall cops. Crockett’s no different.”

“I…”

“Let’s focus on our case.” Trudy spoke fast, trying to bring them back on track. If Gina and Stan got started fighting about Sonny they’d lose the rest of the day. “Did anything come in from Brooklyn Vice?”

Stan nodded, gratitude plain in his eyes. “It did. He’s our guy. No question. The tattoos are the same, and the profile of the girls matches almost exactly. He got his start there in a strip club, so he’s working on the ‘if it ain’t broke’ model. Started small and then started poaching other pimps’ girls. That’s what got Flash after him.”

“Good. Can you add that to our plan for the lieutenant?”

“Already did. It’s ready to go unless you want to look it over.”

“No. You’re better at that than I am.” She smiled, knowing Stan could use the little boost. And it was true: he was better at writing up plans than either of them. He’d had more practice running his surveillance operations with Larry. Maybe this was his way of feeling like his friend was still with them. Unlike some cops, Trudy didn’t care who did the plan. All that mattered was taking the target down in a way that would lead to a conviction.

“Are we going back to Rizzo’s tonight? Cause if we’re not I’m getting out of this straightjacket and into something more comfortable.”

“I don’t think we need to. Give Noogie time to do his magic. We also need to set up the fake bust with Stan.” Trudy ran timelines in her mind. “Tomorrow’s more likely. Maybe even the day after depending on what Stan has to say.”

When Stan came back his eyes were bright. “He signed off with no changes. Said he’s gonna work the warrant now that we got Brooklyn’s info too.” He looked around. “Gina changing?”

“Yes. We’re not going back to Rizzo’s tonight.” Trudy sat down at her desk with a sigh. “We need to figure out the fake bust, though.”

“Halfway there. I’ll be playing fat, dumb tourist. Only the last bit’s an act, so it shouldn’t be a problem. You come up and try to pick me up and I play the ‘Freeze! Miami Vice!’ routine and haul you out in cuffs. They’re a new pair, so they won’t be too tight. Then we park you in holding here with the other catches of the day and you can make your call.”

She nodded. “Sounds perfect to me.” It was a good plan, too. Simple and nothing out of the ordinary. Busts just like it went down in clubs all over town on any given night.

“Trudy? Do you have a minute?”

Stan grinned. “You’re in trouble…”

“Be right there, lieutenant.” Sticking her tongue out at Stan, Trudy got up and headed for the corner office.

“How were your first two days back?” Castillo didn’t look up.

“Good, lieutenant. We’ve got a good plan to catch this Midas character and hopefully find those two girls alive.” Inside she was sure they were dead, but you always based at least part of a plan on hope.

“I know. It’s a good plan.” There was silence. “I mean how are you doing?”

“I’m good.” She shifted, not quite knowing how to answer. He looked so alone sitting there. Funny she’d never noticed that before. The aloneness of him. “I was expecting it to feel strange, but Stan and Gina have been kind.”

“And Crockett and Tubbs?”

“To be honest today was the first time I’d seen them.”

“I want to know if there are any issues. I said you’re good to be back and that should be enough for anyone.” He looked up and smiled, and she felt the warmth in his eyes. When he wanted they could be a very pretty brown. And so deep…

“Thank you, lieutenant. I’ll let you know. But it’s good to be back. I was going nuts just sitting by myself second-guessing everything I did. Wondering…”

“Some things are best left alone. Lou DeLong might be one of those things.” He looked back down at the desk. “I’ll let you know if the warrant comes through. Execute your plan either way.”

“I see your head’s still attached.” Gina looked up from her copy of Stan’s typed-up plan.

“He just wanted to see how I was doing.” She shrugged, still trying to wrap her head around what she’d seen in his eyes. “But we’re good to go. He said execute with or without the warrant for her financials. I think he’s assuming we’ll shake enough loose to get it later if we don’t get it now.”

Stan chuckled. “I don’t know about you girls, but I’m going to go home and soak in a nice warm bath.”

“Now that is an image I did NOT need!” Trudy laughed, noticing a touch of color in Gina’s cheeks. “I’ll see you all in the morning. We need to run through the arrest plan and coordinate with the uniforms in that district before we go. I don’t want some beat cop getting nervous.”

It was dark by the time Trudy got to the door of her apartment. They’d taken longer than she’d through, and stopping by the store to grab some food added on time. Locking the door, she put her groceries away and went about making a green salad. It was just too hot to think about anything else.

She sat by the balcony door so she could look out and imagine she could see the ocean. Or at least pretend the apartment complex pool was the ocean. Somewhere across the courtyard music blared, and she sighed. It had been getting progressively worse since college kids had discovered the complex. Maybe one day she’d be able to afford a house somewhere quiet, maybe with a hint of the ocean. But that wasn’t likely on a cop’s pay.

Forking the last of the lettuce and dressing into her mouth, she let her mind play back over the plan they’d drawn up. It was good, but things could always go wrong. Setting the dirty bowl in the sink, she changed into a loose t-shirt and baggy shorts before sitting back down. But something had changed. Instead of the plan she kept coming back to Martin Castillo.

She’d never noticed before how alone he looked in that office. Always watching over them like a protective father, but she wondered for the first time who watched over him. She’d heard about his house from Sonny and Rico, the little Japanese-style cottage out near the water. Letting her mind go, she wondered how he’d furnish it. If it was like him, it would be simple and functional, but with a touch of something just beyond what you’d expect to find.

Then she remembered his wife, and Trudy felt an unexpected pang of jealousy. Why be jealous? She’s remarried and gone. I don’t think they were ever really married in our sense. No license and all that. Still, the pang wouldn’t go away.

Then there was the look in his eyes when he asked how she was doing. It had been real concern, mixed with something more. She wasn’t sure what, and didn’t want to dream in anything that wasn’t there. Still, she knew she’d been looking at him differently. Was there anything…

 

Trudy awoke with a start, stretching out kinks in her neck and long legs. She’d managed to fall asleep on the couch, and her couch wasn’t designed for any kind of comfortable sleeping. Rubbing her neck with a grimace, she got to her feet and thought for a moment about going to bed. But the orange tint to the sky told her it was pointless. Instead she started coffee and showered while it brewed, letting the jets of hot water work the stiffness out of her muscles.

Drying herself off, she paused for a moment and looked in the bathroom mirror, remembering how Castillo had chuckled when the Big Booty Trudy sign appeared on her desk. “It’s not that big,” she muttered, turning to make sure. Walking into the bedroom, she took extra care picking out her wardrobe for the day…it would have to do double duty since she didn’t want to come back and change before the operation began. In the end she settled with an olive and black one-piece dress that came off her shoulders and dipped low in both the front and back. Black leather knee boots completed the look.

At first she’d been self-conscious about her working clothes, but now it was more like playing dress-up. All that mattered was matching the clothes to what she wanted people to believe she was doing on any given night. And tonight she wanted to look like a brash hooker out to pick up a fat, lazy businessman. Looking at herself in the mirror, she shifted back and forth, finally pulling the shoulder straps down so they came across her biceps like cropped sleeves. “That’s the look,” she muttered, teasing out her hair and applying makeup with the same intensity.

Rico whistled when she walked into the squad room. “Now that is stylin’ and profilin’, Trudy my love. You do all that for me?”

“Never happen, Rico.” And she meant it. Tubbs was attractive in a nasty bad boy kind of way, but she’d had her fill of that type going all the way back to David. “We’re working tonight.”

“Yeah. Stan said something about that. He must be the chump, ‘cause he’s wearing that damned awful powder blue leisure suit of his. I keep telling him to step up his game, but he always says ‘this is stepped up for Des Moines’.”

“He’s got a point. He does know his cover.”

“That he does. And now I gotta carry the Mendoza thing solo. Crockett got saddled with babysitting some Federal witness or another.”

“Yeah. We heard the tantrum yesterday. I didn’t think he’d get out of it.”

“No. And get this…it’s a she and she’s a pop star.”

“Anyone we know?” Trudy wasn’t really paying attention as she flipped through the information they’d gotten from Brooklyn Vice the day before. Just in case Stan had added something.

“Caitlin Davies I think they said her name was.”

“I thought she was dead. Or at least career dead.”

“I only know what I hear when Crockett’s screaming at Castillo.”

Trudy smiled. “I’ll bet that went over well.”

“Not so much.” Rico chuckled. “In the end I think it came down to take the detail or take a suspension.”

“Even Crockett’s not that stupid.” Stan sauntered in from the side room, his powder blue leisure suit bagging in just the right places for him to look like a down-on-his-luck tractor salesman from Des Moines out for a good time in the big city. “Castillo doesn’t bluff.”

“Nothing new?” Trudy gestured toward the file.

“Nope. We got all they had. I just went through and picked out some more information.”

“How do you see this playing out?”

Stan chuckled. “At least you didn’t say going down.” He raised his hands. “Just kidding! Anyhow, I’ll be sitting at the bar playing rube in the big city seeing titties for the first time. You come up with your no nonsense soul sister act going. We talk, I flash the badge and bust you as soon as a price is mentioned, and we come downtown. I already alerted patrol near Rizzo’s that we have a bust going down. They shouldn’t get in the way. Oh, and the lieutenant got that warrant. We’ll know more than she does about her money by this time tomorrow.”

“Great. Is Gina here yet?”

“Yes, and my feet are killing me. I shouldn’t have gone out dancing last night.” Gina sat down at her desk with a sigh, kicking off her low heels.

“Probably not.” Trudy thought about asking if it was anyone they knew, but she knew the look in her partner’s eyes and didn’t want to know. Maybe someday she’s see Crockett was just stringing her along. No, she corrected herself, he’s not really stringing her along. She doesn’t want to see the truth. He’s moved on from her. There was always a chance she’d just gone out, but Trudy knew that look.

“Live and learn, I guess.”

Rico chuckled. “I didn’t know Sonny could dance.”

“It wasn’t Crockett, wise guy. It was an old friend.”

Trudy saw through the lie but didn’t say a word. No about that, at least. “We’ve got a few hours. Did we get a mug shot from NYPD? Good. The quality’s crap because it’s a fax, but look it over just the same. If he’s in Rizzo’s we stick to the plan, but Gina you’ll want to stay even more in the background. I won’t be carrying my gun or my badge just in case, but if things go south we’ll use the color of the day.” She looked at Stan.

“Purple. Like purple haze.” He shrugged. “Not my department, people. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Any questions?” Trudy looked from Stan to Gina. “No? Let’s do it. Stan, you go in about half an hour ahead of me. Gina, you might want to do the same. I won’t have a radio at all, so any communication will come from Stan.”

“I’ll draw one of the unmarked units from the lot and have it curbside so it’s a short trip from the bar to the cell.” Stan chuckled again. “We aim to please and all that.”

Gina nodded. “Once it goes down I’ll hang out for another ten minutes or so and then head back here. Just in case something happens inside we need to know about. I will have my gun and badge, though.”

Trudy walked into Rizzo’s just after ten like she owned the place, striding past the doorman in her high boots with a sneer on her face. “Outa my way,” she said. “Hot package comin’ through.”

The big guy just chuckled and let her go. Odds were he’d seen worse in his days at Rizzo’s door.

Stan was leaning back against the bar with a drink in his hand hooting at one of the girls. Noogie up in the booth was spinning “Super Freak,” and the girl was doing everything she could to live up to the song’s image. Pushing past a waitress, Trudy planted herself in front of Stan. “She ain’t no super freak,” she announced in a brash twang. “I’m the super freak. You think you got what it takes to satisfy me?”

Stan grinned, playing it up. “Oh I think I can accommodate, sweet thing. We grow ‘em big in Iowa, and I’m not just talking about corn stalks.”

She straddled him, grabbing his tie and pulling him close. “Ain’t talkin’ about those corn-fed women you got that way.”

“Neither am I.”

“Then I’d say you might have what it takes to satisfy the super freak.” She stepped back, still holding onto his tie. “But this ride ain’t free, see? Most things in life worth havin’ aren’t free.”

“Don’t I know it? What are we talking?”

“They say time is money, so more time, more money.”

Stan made a show of fumbling in his wallet. “I got three hundred bucks in need of a home.”

“Then you got all night, stud.”

He was quick. She had to admit that. His hand shot under his jacket and came out filled with his stainless steel Browning, the other filled with a badge appearing from nowhere. “Freeze! Miami Vice! You’re under arrest for solicitation. Keep your hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Don’t you touch me! You ain’t paid, so you can’t lay hands on!” Trudy kept her hands high, noticing how quickly the crowd at the bar scattered as soon as Stan made his move. Up in his booth, Noogie didn’t miss a beat, changing the record to “I Fought the Law.” As Stan slapped the cuffs on her with a big flourish she kept squalling about false arrest and her rights and how he’d best not put any bruises on or she’d be suing for lost wages. All the tried and true hooker lines she’d heard over the years. She hadn’t noticed if Midas was in the club, but by the time she was outside she figured he would have heard something about the encounter. Word traveled fast on the streets, faster when a bust was going down.

She kept up the act, screaming for her lawyer, until the second Stan slammed the door on the unmarked unit and started toward OCB. Then they both started to laugh. “You have no idea how hard it was to keep a straight face when you grabbed my damned tie!”

“You? Hell, I almost peed myself when you laid out that corn stalk line.”

“That’s one of my best. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.” Stan chuckled, tossing the key to the cuffs to her. “Might as well get comfortable until we get to holding.”

They repeated the show all the way through to the holding cells, Trudy screaming about her rights, abuse, and how she wanted her lawyer right damned now! “You get this one on the phone I heard about. Lydia James. Yeah, that what my girlfriend said. Lydia James! You call her and get her down here and we sue your ass, white boy! You hear me?”

The girl in the next cell, a tough looking little Cubana, raised her head from her bunk. “Keep it down, puta. Some of us want sleep.”

“Keep it down? I keep you down, you bitch! Yeah, you heard right. Ain’t no one tells Trudy what to do! No one!”

“You think you special cause you ain’t got no pimp?” The girl chuckled before lying back down. “You just wait, puta. Midas will come for you.”

“I don’t want no damned muffler!”

“Not the car shop, you crazy bitch. You learn soon enough.”

Trudy paced in the cell, keeping up her act while her brain raced. The girl had at least heard of Midas, and hadn’t said anything until she yelled about Lydia James. They had to be on the right track.

Two hours later Trudy got her first look at Lydia James. To be more accurate, she got her first look at Lydia James’ hair; thick and blonde bobbing in a long ponytail behind her like a flag. It drew attention away from her thin face and a pair of mean blue eyes reminding Trudy of a high school cheerleader captain’s. She wore a cheap version of a power suit with a pencil skirt and flats, but the perfume that preceded her arrive was expensive. She looked at the bored guard. “I want my client in an interview room. Now.” Her voice was as thin and lifeless as her face.

Once the door to the room clicked shut, Lydia raised her hand. “Don’t start in about how you were entrapped or he misunderstood. I know the entire routine. Getting you out of here isn’t the problem. Keeping you out of here is.”

“Don’t you think I know that? And is that all you got?” Trudy leaned forward, sneering with her eyes. “My girlfriend said you was the best.”

“Oh, I am. Have no doubt about that. But I don’t just do legal aid. I also do job placement.”

“Job? I don’t need no damned job.”

“You misunderstand.” Lydia leaned forward, her perfume engulfing Trudy like a  cloud. “It’s more working with someone. You share your take with him, and he keeps the cops off you and makes sure if anything happens I’m the one who catches your case. Every time.”

“I don’t need no damned pimp.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong, lady. You need protection, and that’s what he provides.” Her eyes went mean again. “You think the cops care about what happens to you? They don’t. You’re another easy arrest to meet the monthly quota is all. The lawyers in my office? They don’t care either. You’re just another dumb bitch who keeps making the same bad decision over and over. Me? I care. And the man I work with? He cares, too.”

“About my money.”

“Some of it, yes. But you get something back. And you can keep working.” She looked at Trudy again, the eyes appraising this time. “Is that all real?”

“You mean these?” Trudy cupped her breasts. “Every damned inch of ‘em. The booty, too. I ain’t messin’ with the perfection God gave me.”

“That’s good. He prefers his girls natural.” Lydia reached into her leather bag and pulled out a card. “Look, give him a call when I get you out. Talk to him. Meet with him once. You’ll see the advantages. He’s got a golden touch.”

“He the one that tattoos his girls? I been hearing some things…”

“Lies. They get the tattoos to show they’re working with him, not for him. You’ll see.”

Trudy turned the card over in her fingers, making a show of thinking it over. She had to admit Lydia was good. If she really was young and desperate the pitch would sound damned good. And convincing. “You get me outa here I’ll call the man.”

“Good choice.” Lydia got up and banged on the door for the guard. “You’ll be out in under two hours.”

Instead of going back to holding, Trudy waited until Lydia was clear of the building before crossing into OCB and heading for the squad room. Gina and Stan were sitting, waiting for her. “That is one cold bitch,” she announced, tossing the gold-colored card on the table. “Cold but persuasive if you’ve got no other options. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

Before Stan could answer, the phone rang. He picked it up and muttered a couple of quick words. When he hung up he was smiling. “That was fast. Your bail’s been posted.”

“Have them process me out. I’ll give it an hour and call this Midas.”

“That’ll put it after midnight.” Gina looked at the clock.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to wait too long. Lydia implied the sooner I called the better.” She looked at the card again. “Makes sense. He wants to see how easy they’ll be to break.”

Castillo came out of his office, making Trudy wonder again if he ever really left the building. “Report.”

She brought him up to date. “James is in it up to her damned ponytail, lieutenant. No mistake. I’m going to call this number in under half an hour and we’ll go from there.”

“Meet him at one of the safe houses. I don’t want to take any chances with this one. He’s wanted in connection with at least two homicides in New York City in addition to our two probables. I’ll come along as backup.”

Trudy nodded, swallowing hard. That meant he’d seen something in the file they’d missed. “We’d appreciate the support, lieutenant.”

“This man is dangerous. I spoke with the FBI an hour ago. They have a file on him going back to Detroit and Chicago. He’s suspected of killing girls there, too. New York wasn’t his first time.”

“NYPD never said…”

“They didn’t know. For unknown reasons the FBI never told them. I had a hunch, so I made some calls.” Castillo’s smile was thin. “The NYPD is unhappy with the FBI now.”

Stan chuckled. “Do tell? The Feebs have a way of pissing in their own Cheerios.”

Trudy stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. “I’m gonna make the call.” Picking up the receiver, she punched in a rerouted outside line and entered the number.

Someone picked up on the third ring. “Go.”

“Some bitch named Lydia said I should call this number.”

If it was Midas, he had a smooth, radio-ready delivery. “She said something about you. You must be Trudy.”

“Yeah. Now what I gotta do to square the bail deal?”

“We need to meet. To talk. Lydia is a bit rough around the edges sometimes. I like to meet the girls I help face to face and work things out.”

“I suppose. I got to get back to earnin’, and she says you can help with that.”

“Oh, yes. I can help with many things. You sound like a smart girl. You pick where we meet.”

“I got a crib over on Third Street.” She gave the address of one of OCB’s safe houses scattered throughout the city. This one perched just on the edge of a bad neighborhood. The kind of place a hooker in need of protection might live. “You sound nice. You pick them time.”

“I expect you’ll want to get cleaned up and rest after tonight. How about tomorrow at eleven? I’ll come by. And Trudy? Lydia said you’re all natural. I hope that’s true. I like to check.”

She shivered as the last words filled her ears, followed by a click and the dial tone. “We have until about eleven to get set up. I’d start moving now, since I’ll bet he’s already got people moving to watch the place.”

Castillo nodded. “We have two apartments there. We’ll take the one next door. There’s a connecting door we added. Switek, you’re driving. Trudy, you follow about twenty minutes later.”

The safe house was exactly what Trudy had expected - a simple apartment on the third story of a five story building. She made a show of turning on lights and opening and closing curtains to show she was home and probably going to bed before shutting off all the lights and going to the connecting door. “You guys there?”

She heard Stan’s chuckle. “With bells on. No, that’s just me. Gina’s already asleep and the lieutenant is in one of those martial arts trances.”

“It’s called meditation, Switek.” She heard Castillo’s low voice through the cracked door. “Get some sleep, both of you.”

Glad she’d thought to grab a change of clothes from her locker, Trudy lounged on the apartment’s worn couch in jeans and a tight t-shirt, waiting for a knock at the door. They’d gone over the plan earlier. The apartments had been set up for controlled meets, so all Stan had to do was start the tape rolling and everything in Trudy’s place would be recorded. They’d wait by the unlocked connecting door, and as soon as she thought they had enough or if she felt she was in danger all she’d have to do is use the phrase ‘super freak’ and they’d come running.

She chuckled. The code phrase had been Stan’s idea. “You were so damned convincing last night we might as well use it again,” he said, and once again she noticed red dots on Gina’s cheeks. But now it was just a matter of waiting.

The minute hand on the cheap wall clock just slid to one minute after eleven when someone knocked on the door. Checking to make sure her Smith & Wesson was secure between the couch cushions, she went to the door and opened it. “Have no fear,” the smooth radio voice said as soon as the lock clicked open. “Midas is here.”

He seemed bigger in person than the file indicated, although Trudy put that down to a combination of his shoulders and his square jaw. His skin was a deep black, his hair cut short in a tight Afro. He might have been attractive except for his eyes, which were dark brown and empty. She’d seen eyes like that before…on men who liked hurting women. “Midas, hunh? Like the muffler place? Come on in.”

“No. More like the ancient king who turned everything he touched into gold.” The man smiled as he walked in like he owned the apartment, taking it all in with a single disapproving glance. “We’ll get you set up better than this once you start working for me.”

“Who said I was workin’ for you? That bitch said workin’ with you.”

“Yes. Same thing. I work for you, keeping you safe, and you work for me generating income. So we work for each other.” He looked her up and down like he was sizing up livestock. “Yeah, I’d say it’s natural. But I have to be sure. Take off the t-shirt.”

She pulled it over her head without flinching. “That enough for you?”

“The bra, too. You never know what’s under those wires.”

She’d been expecting it, and popped the front clasp without looking away from his eyes. Shrugging, she let it fall to the floor. “Like I said, natural.”

“Yes they are.” He stared for a long moment, and she saw his eyes starting to change. And she didn’t like what she saw. “Now I need to make sure you got what it takes to earn for us both.”

“Now hold on. How do I know you ain’t just gonna get your taste and duck out? There’s a reason I ain’t with no pimp.” She took a step away from him, opening distance and trying to get him near the connecting door.

“You just have to trust me. It’s business, baby. I wouldn’t be in business if you couldn’t trust me. But you also don’t want to say no. Two girls already have, and you don’t see them around, do you? But if you put on my colors, you’re golden. You’re protected and live in style. I just take my cut and make sure you’re still good from time to time. Hell, you’ll enjoy it. They all do. My touch ain’t the only thing that’s golden.”

She wasn’t sure if it was enough or not. But Midas was getting closer, and the streets taught Trudy from an early age not to take chances. Not with things like this. She smiled, licking her lips. “Well ain’t you just a super freak?”

The next thing she knew Martin Castillo was in the room. She didn’t even remember hearing the door crash open. His big Magnum was out and inches from Midas’s nose. “Miami Vice. You’re under arrest for pimping, murder, and we’re holding you for extradition for murders in three other jurisdictions.” Castillo’s eyes changed, and Trudy hoped she never saw them like that again. “You can raise your hands or lose your head. Two seconds.” Midas’s hands shot toward the ceiling, and Trudy had the satisfaction of seeing a wide wet stain spread across the front of his tight jeans.

From behind her Gina cleared her throat. “You might want this,” she said, passing the t-shirt over.

Trudy felt her cheeks getting hot as she pulled the shirt on. Stan was busy looking out the window, and she decided she didn’t care if Castillo saw her. In fact, a small part of her hoped he had. Then she pulled the handcuffs out of her back jeans pocket and yanked one of Midas’s arms down. “You know the drill, bitch,” she snarled.

 

Trudy looked at the final report and smiled. “Midas might not be talking, but that bitch James is singing like an opera star.”

Stan nodded. “We were right about her financials. She might have been good at sweet-talking girls, but she was lousy at hiding her money. It’s all there. Looks like he was paying her five grand a girl.”

“Did she know what happened to the two Noogie reported? I’d like to let him know.”

“Yeah.” Stan’s voice dropped. “It’s not good. He killed ‘em and dumped them about five miles offshore. But not before…”

She nodded, knowing what he was going to say. “He’ll get the same inside. No matter where he ends up.”

Gina nodded, looking up from the papers. “How many girls did he take advantage of with that bitch’s help?”

“At least fifteen. Maybe twenty. We might never know for sure. She’s a lawyer so she’ll let it out slow in hopes of getting a better deal.” Stan shook his head. “Although she might not find the ladies in County as accommodating as the DA’s office. Some of them had sisters Midas turned out.”

“You might have the DA mention that little fact in case she forgot.” Trudy smiled. “It might make her talk faster.”

Castillo came out of his office, a rare smile on his face. “Good work,” he said simply. “A good plan executed well. The tape will hold up, and if it doesn’t we can still extradite him to New York, Michigan, or Illinois. He’ll do hard time no matter what.”

Trudy nodded, her cheeks warming at the memory of her topless show. Had he seen? And if he had, did he like what he saw? Again, that little corner of her hoped the answer to both questions was yes. But now she had an errand to run. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna run by Rizzo’s and let Noogie know. We wouldn’t have really even known about this guy if he hadn’t have come forward.”

Castillo nodded. “There’s a reward for him being offered by New York. Tell Noogie he can come by and start the paperwork to claim it.”

 

Noogie was on his break, and his face almost split in two at Trudy’s news. “So the Noog-man done good for once?”

“Damned good, Noogie. And Castillo said to tell you to come by and fill out some paperwork. Apparently New York had a reward out for this guy.”

Noogie looked around and let his sunglasses fall off his forehead and onto his nose. “Say, look heayar. I’ll fill that paper out, but don’t let Annie know. There’s…” He paused, looked around, and lowered his voice. “There’s a shelter for battered women I want the cash to go to. You dig? My sister…”

“You got nothing to explain to me, Noogie. The money’s yours to do with as you please. But I never met a good hustler who didn’t have a heart down there somewhere.”

“Just don’t let no one know, dig? The Noon-man’s got a reputation to maintain.” He grinned, but she could see the tears streaking down under his glasses. “But now I gotta go spin a tune to bring the poon, if you can dig what the Noog-man is sayin’.”

She laughed with him, touching his shoulder before he stepped away. “I can dig it, Noogie. I can dig it all the way. You did good. Don’t forget that.”

 

Stan shook his head. “He’s doing what?”

“Giving it to a battered woman’s shelter.”

“He knows it’s ten large, right?”

“I don’t think he cares, Stan.” She remembered how he’d dropped the glasses to hide his eyes and understood now. “It’s something from his past. We gotta respect that.”

Stan nodded. “Yeah, we do. I got some respect for the little weirdo now.”

“I told you. Most of the hustlers I knew still had a heart. You just had to find it sometimes.” Trudy smiled, looking at the closed office door out of the corner of her eye. What was it about Castillo that had suddenly tugged at a corner of hers? And would she ever know?

[Matt5]

29 minutes ago, Robbie C. said:

So I took a stab at a Trudy story. Not sure how it turned out, though. It's set during the series timeline, between Missing Hours and Like a Hurricane.

 

Trudy Joplin tugged her blue dress into place and checked her hair in the rearview mirror of her Mazda one last time before stepping out into the bright Miami morning. It was her first day back after a week of medical leave, and she didn’t want the rest of the team looking at her like she was crazy. It was bad enough that she thought she might be crazy.

The houseboat had stopped appearing in her dreams last Friday, but she wasn’t ready to look at a jar of peanut butter. Locking the car, she headed into OCB, nodding to the uniform at the front desk before heading down to the squad room. The clicking of her high heels on the dirty tile floor seemed extra-loud today, and she forced a smile on her face. They’d offered her more leave, but she turned it down. She needed to get back to work, to get her brain occupied again. She hadn’t felt this broken since the day the two officers came to her front door and told them her brother had been murdered.

Even the smell was the same: stale cigarette smoke and sweat intermixed with stabbing jolts of expensive cologne or perfume depending on which way the air conditioning was pushing. Stan was the first to see her, sitting at his desk writing up what looked to be another pawn shop sting. He grinned. “Look who’s back! Good to see ya, Trudy!”

“Nice to see you, too, Stan.” She hugged him, amazed as always at how well he’d held it together after Larry was killed. She knew what that kind of loss did to a person, so she went out of her way to be kind to Stan.

“Hey, lady.” Gina looked up from her own stack of paperwork. “Good to see you.”

Trudy looked around, seeing the two empty desks. “Where are…”

“The Hardy Boys?” Stan’s voice had a bite to it. “Out chasing bikinis and running up the expense accounts.”

“Now, Stan.” Gina smiled. “They’re following up on a lead about the Mendozas. Stan’s probably right, though.”

Somehow Castillo’s door opened without them hearing a sound. “Detective Joplin. A moment?”

Trudy swallowed. She’d hoped to put this moment off until she was a bit more centered, but she should have known. Martin Castillo had a knack for knowing when you were vulnerable and making his move. “Be right there, lieutenant.”

Stan lowered his voice. “It should be ok. He’s in a good mood.”

“How can you tell?”

“He’s talking. When Castillo’s pissed he doesn’t talk.”

Trudy nodded, knowing Stan was right. Still, any visit to his office was unsettling. Unless you were Crockett.

Castillo sat behind his desk, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, lieutenant. I know you think I should take more time, but I need to get back to work. To do something other than stare at the walls and wonder if I’m crazy.”

“You aren’t. If I thought you were you wouldn’t be here.” He looked up at her. “Maybe you were drugged. Maybe it was something else. There are things in this world we don’t understand. But you’re a good cop. And I need good cops.”

“You’ve got a whole team.”

“No. We’re still down one. And I will not replace Zito just to have a body in a chair. You’re a great detective, Trudy, and I need you on the streets.”

Trudy shifted from one foot to the other, hearing the pain in the man’s voice when he said Larry’s name. “I won’t let you down, lieutenant.”

“I know. I’ll be putting you with Calabrese and Switek. They’ve got a case that looks complicated. And Crockett and Tubbs are still after the Mendozas.”

“I though they had a good in with that informant Stan and Larry lined up.”

“They did. Until he was found dead in a car parked along the Expressway.” Castillo looked down at the top of his desk. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Back in the squad room Trudy looked over at Stan. “I didn’t know Gustavo got killed.”

“Yeah. I think the Hardy Boys pushed him too hard. The kid was small-time. They started leaning on him to be big time.” Stan shrugged. “Another notch in Crockett’s belt, I guess.”

Gina cleared her throat. “But that’s not our case, Stan. Did the lieutenant…”

“He said I should work with you two.” Trudy walked over to her desk, smiling when she caught sight of the ‘Big Booty Trudy’ nameplate. The boys might have been trying to be funny, but she was quite proud of her backside.

In another time, and another place, Trudy knew she might have been working the streets for real instead of just pretending. Growing up on the edges of Overton she’d seen the bad, but also clung to the good. Memories of riding with her brother when he took his Mustang out to find street races. Playing with the other kids on the block on those warm summer evenings. And the sound of her grandmother’s voice singing in the small apartment kitchen. But there was also the bad, topped by the cops telling them her brother had been murdered over nothing. The case was never solved, and her mother remained convinced it was because no one cared about another black man being gunned down. Trudy’s decision to join the force had strained family relations for years.

Looking up, she shook herself out of her memories. Looking back wouldn’t change a damned thing. “So what’s the case, partners?”

“We’ve been getting reports of a new pimp down around Rizzo’s.” Stan looked at his notes. “Seems Noogie’s a DJ there and him and Annie kinda keep an eye on the girls. This guy’s supposed to be a real piece of work. Likes to tattoo his girls. Puts his brand on ‘em is what he calls it.”

Gina nodded. “And at least two girls who said no to him have disappeared. No bodies, no traces.”

“And you think he’s recruiting them from Rizzo’s?”

“We don’t know.” Stan shook his head. “Getting a straight story out of Noogie is like getting a square deal from that dolt Moreno. One minutes he says this guy is, and then next he says he’s got no idea. Annie’s no more helpful. I think she’s baked half the time now.”

“She’s using?”

“We think so.” Stan nodded. “It’s hard to say with either of those nut jobs, but my money’s on yes.”

“I don’t think Noogie is, though.” It was Gina’s turn to shake her head. “Ever since they hired him as a DJ down there he’s been clean.”

It made sense to Trudy. Some of her old friends had been just like Noogie. Most of them were dead now, though. “You give them a purpose and some of them do clean up. Noogie wasn’t in that deep to begin with, so this might have been his thing.” She looked at Stan and Gina. “Let me talk to him. I grew up with guys just like him. I might be able to get the truth out of him.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, I do. Guys like him hustle because it’s how you stay alive down there. To last as long as he has takes brains and not just fancy footwork.” Trudy shuddered, remembering old, bad times. “Yeah, it takes a lot more than that. Izzy wouldn’t last ten minutes around some of the people Noogie rubs shoulders with every day.”

Stan scratched at the stubble coating his chin. Trudy watched him, waiting to see how he’d react. But there was someone else going on behind his eyes. She wondered. He’d been distant ever since Larry had been murdered, and it seemed to get worse with every passing day. Maybe later she’d mention it to Gina. “Yeah, I can see that. Izzy’s great with the old ladies and the guys playing canasta outside the beachfront hotels. Noogie…he’s a whole different breed of cat. One I ain’t sure’s been classified.”

“Oh, he has. Hustler. He doesn’t make big deals, but he always makes enough to get by. It’s how he stays alive.” Trudy looked over at the picture board. “We got anything on this mystery pimp?”

“No picture if that’s what you’re lookin’ for.” Stan pulled out a battered notebook. “He goes by the name Midas, because…”

“Everything he touches turns to gold.” Trudy sighed. “These bastards are so damned original.”

“He is when it comes to his mark.” Stan pointed at the picture. “Tattoos a damned gold bar right between their shoulder blades. We pulled a few of them in for questioning, and his girls don’t talk.”

“They’re scared. We don’t know what he’s doing, but it’s gotta be bad.” Gina looked at her own notes. “We’ve pulled in six girls with the tattoo so far. Not one has said a word. But one of them got hysterical when we mentioned Midas’ name.”

“They have anything else in common?”

“Half of them worked at Rizzo’s at least a couple nights a week.” Stan pointed at the pictures. “Other than that, they’re all tall and don’t have fake tits…uh…I mean features. Seems he likes his girls natural. At least two of ‘em were blondes when they worked Rizzo’s but were going back to their natural hair color when we brought ‘em in.”

Trudy smiled. “At least Annie’s safe from him, then. Should put Noogie’s mind at ease.”

“The way this guy moves we thought he must have been in the life for a bit.” Gina frowned. “But we ran his MO through the files and came up empty. We’ve got calls in to Lauderdale and Atlanta, but so far nothing.”

“Maybe he changed it up.” Trudy kept staring at the pictures of the six girls who’d been interviewed. And then the two they knew had vanished after Midas tried to bring them in. Looking for something…anything…that might connect them. “Did any of them have priors?”

“Aside from solicitation and the occasional drug bust? Not really.” Stan turned pages. “One of them had been picked up for theft, and the redhead who went missing actually had a court date for grand theft auto.”

Gina narrowed her eyes. “What are you thinking, Trudy?”

“I don’t know yet. Just trying to find something connecting these girls. He had to find them somehow, and not just through Rizzo’s or word of mouth. Where were their priors?”

“I’ll have to check. We didn’t pay much attention because they weren’t in the area they were working or where the missing girls vanished.”

“Let me know when you get that, Stan. It could be important.” Trudy could feel it now, that little tickle she got when something was dancing just out of reach but starting to get closer. The only thing that would ruin it now was the lieutenant telling them they had to go undercover as strippers or hookers at Rizzo’s. Turning to Gina, she put on her most persuasive smile. “Want to take a ride to Rizzo’s?”

“Let me make sure my shots are up to date.” Gina leaned across the table. “You got something, partner?”

“I don’t know yet. But I want to talk to Noogie. If you can get Annie away from him it would help. Maybe interview her somewhere or ask her where she got her boobs.”

“You owe me a bottle of wine. But why get Noogie alone?”

“So I can talk to him street to street. We’re from the same place, but took different turns.”

They drove downtown in relative silence, Trudy content to let Gina drive while she thought things through. It was good to be back, and so far neither of them had looked at her like she was sprouting a second head. But she hadn’t had to deal with Crockett or Tubbs yet, and wasn’t looking forward to the experience. Maybe they’d be so busy chasing the Mendozas they’d stay away until this case was over and she’d proven herself again. Although sometimes she wondered if she’d ever be more than window dressing or a distraction to those two.

“Serious thoughts, partner?”

She almost jumped at Gina’s voice and smiled to cover it. “Not really. Just sorting through what you both said back there.”

“I know I speak for Stan, too. We’re glad you’re back. This case is going nowhere fast and we need your help.”

“So you don’t worry…”

“No. Not really.” Gina looked straight ahead, but Trudy could see her lip quivering as she spoke. “You’ve been there for me so many times, Trudy. After that rape. My shootings. Every time I made an ass out of myself with Sonny. I”d be a damned poor partner if I turned my back on you now. We may never know what happened, but it’s over now. Now we just need to break this case and keep Stan going.”

“Is he that bad?” Trudy knew the answer without Gina saying a word.

“Some days he’s good, but other days…” She sighed. “I don’t know where his head’s at. He doesn’t quote Elvis near as much, and any time he’s in the room with Sonny I keep waiting for the fireworks to start.”

Trudy nodded. The whole thing with Larry still brought a bad taste to her mouth. It wasn’t the first time she though Sonny had taken things too far too fast, and she doubted it would be the last. “I heard before I went on leave that the lieutenant was thinking of parking Sonny on some bodyguard detail.”

“Hasn’t happened yet, but I keep hearing the same rumor. I don’t think it would be a bad thing, though. Give those two some distance and maybe let Stan get back on his feet.” Gina sighed again. “And here we are. Hope your shots are up to date.”

“Last time I checked.” Trudy slipped on her sunglasses and felt the familiar weight of her snub nose .38 in her clutch. “Let’s get this over with.”

Rizzo’s was usually quiet in the middle of the afternoon, and today was no exception. The mid-shift girls went through their dances on automatic, with the sweaty fifty-somethings around the poles tossing ones more from reflex than appreciation. But she did notice the music was better than usual, and understood why when the song ended. “Let’s give it UP for Tiny Tina and her Ta-Tas!” The short girl on the center pole did a quick twirl and waved toward the DJ booth. “Now that’s a show, gents! And now the Noog-man needs him some lubrication, and you will too when Foxy Roxy rocks your damned world on the center stage!”

In spite of herself Trudy smiled. “He’s got quite a line, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. And there’s Annie. I’ll keep her busy, but you’d better get to Noogie quick.”

Nodding her thanks, Trudy moved toward the door at the base of the elevated DJ booth. One man reach out, and snatched his hand back when she snarled, “Touch me and I rip that hand off and stuff it up your ass.” The street flooded back with unexpected ease, and she felt herself slipping into the old swagger. “Noogie! I need a word.”

Noogie Lamonte turned, his red sunglasses pushed up on his forehead. An old Rolling Stones t-shirt was sweat-plastered to his upper body, and he had forced himself into leather pants that might not come off without some kind of surgery. “Truday with the bootay! How long’s it been since my eyes got to see your beauty up close and personal like?”

“Not all that long ago. Look, we need to talk.”

He looked back at the booth, and then toward the bar, grinning when he saw Annie in deep conversation with Gina. “We got five., then the Noog-man has to get back to spinning the wax. If the booties ain’t shakin’, money we ain’t makin’, if you get what I’m sayin’.”

They were just inside the dressing room door when Trudy turned. “You can drop the act, Noogie. We’re both Overton born. I know how you have to run your hustle, but don’t try it on me. I need to know what you knew about this Midas bastard and the missing girls.”

Noogie looked around, then chuckled. “I shoulda known a sister like you wouldn’t fall for no jive. Look, I don’t know much about this cat other than he’s a mean, sadistical bastard. Word on the street is he pissed off some cats up north and took to the road looking for warmer climes to work his game. He likes his girls au natural, no fake titties or bleach jobs in his stable. I also hear he likes to poach from other pimps’ stables, goin’ after what they have that meets his requirement. Don’t know that he’s killed any of ‘em yet, but you know it’s comin’.”

“You can play that stupid game with the others all damned week, but not with me. We clear on that?”

Noogie nodded. “Clear as always, Trudy. I don’t jive you, not a bit. But this Midas makes me nervous, and that ain’t no lie.”

“What about the missing girls?”

“They said no, so he made ‘em go. At least that’s the word, and ain’t no one to say otherwise. He ain’t made no run at Rizzo’s cause he knows the brother is connected, but I think he wants the ground around it for his own.”

“He come in much?”

“Once or twice, maybe. I ain’t never seen the cat, just his signature.” Noogie looked around like he suddenly realized where he was. “Oh, man! I gotta get back out there. Foxy Roxy gets all kinda bitchy if she starts late.”

Trudy watched the short, thin man scurry back to his perch and settle in. Within two seconds he was the Noog-Man, strutting with his voice on a stage of his own creation. “All right, people! The Noog-man is relaxed, refreshed, and rejuvenated. And you know what that means! Titties! And here comes Foxy Roxy an’ hers!”

“I never thought I’d get away from Annie.” Gina shuddered. “I can’t believe I was dumb enough to ask about her boob job. She wanted me to feel them.”

“Well…did you?”

“God no! I was afraid they’d explode or something. It’s like the quack stuffed two of those Bugs Bunny bombs in there…one for each side.”

Trudy laughed, feeling the tension slide out of her shoulders. As they drove back toward OCB she told Gina what she’d learned. “I don’t think he’s holding anything back, or if he is it’s not important.,” she finished, looking out the window without seeing as she focused on the case. “Maybe we can get Stan to shift the focus of the MO search to New York City. They might have something on file, at least with the tattoos.”

“Rico could call…”

“You really think he’s got any juice left up there after everything that’s happened? No, better we let Stan do his ‘aw shucks guys’ routine.” Trudy smiled, then paused, realizing how harsh she’d sounded. “Sorry, Gina. I didn’t mean to snap.”

“You didn’t. Just said what we both know. And Stan is good at getting that kind of stuff out of other agencies.” She paused. “And you don’t think Noogie knew anything about the missing girls?”

“No, I don’t think he does.” Trudy thought back to his expressions. “But I could see it in his eyes. He’s worried about them even when he’s trying to talk tough.”

“Why would he care?”

“Who knows. Lots of reasons, maybe.” Trudy thought back to her brother, and how losing him had set her on the path she still walked every day. “Maybe something happened to a sister or cousin. I don’t know. But where we come from it happens all the time.” She stopped talking, knowing she’d said too much. Even to Gina. “Even Noogie’s gonna have a heart somewhere in there.”

“I suppose so.” Gina parked the car, and they walked back to the squad room.

Stan looked up. “You get anything out of the leather-clad nut job aside from babble and maybe fleas?”

Trudy chuckled. “Yeah.” She filled Stan in quickly. “See if you can get anything on that tattoo from NYPD or maybe their state police. We need to move on this fast. I don’t think this Midas is done, and we don’t need more girls dying.”

Trudy’s apartment was small, just big enough for her and the piano. Kicking off her heels, she locked the apartment door and walked over, running her fingers along the cool ivory keys. Sliding onto the bench, she ran through a few scales, clunky at first but growing smoother with each repetition. Working the rust out that came from not playing enough. As she kept warming up she looked at the art on the wall behind the piano. Some of it hers, some of it from other people. Relics of a time long passed.

When she told the story in her head it always started with ‘once upon a time.’ And it had been a fairy tale, though she’d not known it at the time. She remembered the day her grandmother had given her the piano. “You’ve got such talent, child,” she’d said with her usual smile. “Play in one of them orchestras one day I bet.”

“No, grams. I wanna play jazz. Like Oscar Peterson or Art Tatum.” She smiled, remembering the confidence in her own fifteen year old voice. And her grams hadn’t laughed at her. Just smiled and said it would take a lot of work.

Without realizing it Trudy had started playing the first chords of “April in Paris,” one of grams’ favorite songs. Maybe it was the memories, or the watercolor she’d done during her first semester at college; a washed-out version of the Eifel Tower hanging on the wall behind the piano. Her teachers all said she had talent to spare, and with a little more training she’d be having her own shows in a handful of years. But then the money ran out, there were no scholarships, and the need to make a living pushed everything else aside. It was then she’d remembered the one officer who’d been kind when they told her about her brother, the one who checked back from time to time and was always embarrassed and even angry they had nothing to tell her. And she never forgot that he’d been white, while the disinterested detective had been black. It planted a little seed of hope in her that even now refused to wither. And it also told her where to go.

She took the song its own way now, blending the classic notes with flavors she’d heard down in Little Havana. Infusing the classic tune with a bit of salsa and spark. Again, her grams had been the one who’d understood when she told the family about her academy application. “It was that one, wasn’t it?” she’d asked, already knowing the answer. “That’s good, child. You find the good in folks, in things. Don’t you ever lose that.” Then the song took a darker turn, fading into a minor key. Grams had died three weeks before graduation.

Now she was a detective. Four years of paying her dues in uniform while still taking gigs on the side. That was where she’d met David. She’d fallen in love with his voice first, then him, only to fall back out of love when she saw what his life was like. Salsa crept back into the tune. When they were good they were really good, but she could see him turning down the path she’d turned away from and knew she had to let him go. It was easier the second time. By then she’d found her calling.

Vice was a grind, at least at first. Coming out of uniform she’d done her time as flashy bait, dressed up as a hooker out on the street with her new partner Gina, letting the sharks sniff before someone else speared them. Lou Rodriguez had been kind in his gruff way, helping her make the adjustment and making sure the two girls always had good cover. Gina had only joined the squad a couple of months before, so they learned the ropes together. She’d liked Stan and Larry from the beginning; two goofy guys who always managed to show up just in time to save their bacon when a trap went sideways. And then there was Sonny Crockett…

Even now Trudy wasn’t totally sure how she felt about Sonny. He’d been supportive as hell after her first shooting, but before that he’d been distant and even a bit dismissive. She’d known from the beginning he and Gina had something going on, maybe dating back to her time in uniform. Sonny was alternately a cowboy, running off on his own, or doing his bit for the squad as a whole. The trouble was you never knew which Sonny was going to show up. And when the wrong one showed up it was bad news all around. Larry Zito’s death was something she was only now forgiving him for. Most days, at least.

Rico was still a wild card in his brash New York way. They both liked jazz, but he was more of a modernist than she was and he also trailed too close in Sonny’s wake for her taste. They got along, but Rico was always determined to keep a certain distance between himself and the rest of the squad. Except maybe his partner. But even then Trudy sensed he kept something back.

The tune had gone pure salsa now as her thoughts turned to Martin Castillo. While the rest of them wore designer clothes, he stuck with plain black suits. He cultivated an aura of mystery unlike anyone she’d ever met before, and his silences were legendary in Metro-Dade and beyond. There was a pain about him she’d never been able to pin down, even after the death of one of his old friends. But he also cared about his people with a depth she’d never seen in a commander before.

With a start she realized she’d never really given Castillo much thought until now. But after the whole houseboat thing he’d been very supportive, even calling once during the week she’d been off to see how she was doing and letting her know again she could take all the time she needed. Most bosses would have written her off as a nut case and arranged a quick transfer to Traffic. But not him. He had this way of just knowing what she needed. No words, no awkward questions. And she felt comfortable around him, something she hadn’t felt for years.

The tune trailed off, and she rested her fingers on the now-warm ivory keys. The usual warm glow filled her soul, still floating on its own path through the music. She let it go, knowing her best thoughts usually came back with it after such excursions. When it did she’d make dinner and maybe sketch a bit before a final glass of wine and bed. As the glow faded and her soul settled back in, she found herself wondering what Castillo was doing that night.

 

Morning found the three detectives assembled in the squad room going over their notes. Stan munched on a donut as he flipped through a stack of oversized print-outs. “That NYPD idea was pure gold, ladies. They know this Midas chump pretty well. Real name is Grover Antoine.” He chuckled. “With a name like a muppet I can see why he’d go with Midas. Anyhow, he used to run a string of girls in Brooklyn until he got caught up in a turf war with a bigger asshole named Isiah Carter. His street name was Flash because he likes to set rivals on fire. Smoking them in more ways than one, I guess. Anyhow, old Midas disappeared and they figured he’d been guest of honor at one of Flash’s weenie roasts until they got my query. They’ve got warrants on him for two open homicides and would love to talk with him when we’re done.”

Gina winced. “Sounds like they were made for each other. Did they have anything we can use?”

Stan opened the stack to a page dotted with highlighter marks. “Maybe. They’re passing it on to Brooklyn Vice who might have more complete files on the guy. Looks like he did the same thing up there with the tattoos. Same general girl profile, too. There’s a note that he went for beauty school dropouts and college girls. Kids who needed money.”

“Lots of that around here.” Trudy sighed, sipping her coffee and letting her brain turn over what Stan had said. “I don’t want to wait for more from Brooklyn. We need to get a rope around this guy and fast. From the way Noogie was talking he’s a fast-mover and already has his hooks in more than a few girls. That’s gonna draw the wrong kind of attention and start a shooting war down there. And we know the girls always get caught in the middle.”

Gina nodded. “And that assumes Rizzo’s owners don’t take offense to his moving in on their territory.”

“Noogie made some noise about that. So far he’s avoided their full-time girls, but this guy sounds like he’s got more ambition than he does common sense. Sooner or later he’s gonna try to play in that pool. And Rizzo’s guys are old school. They’ll hit back. Hard.” Trudy looked at the picture board again. “What else do we know about the missing girls? He’s gotta be spotting them somewhere other than Rizzo’s. Bounce that against the girls who we know work for him and see what comes up. If we can figure out where he’s hunting we can set our own trap.”

Stan nodded. “Good thinking, Trudy. I can check the ones we’ve talked to if you want to take the missing ones. Be faster if we split it up.”

“Sure. Gina, you want to give Stan a hand? You each take three and I’ll work these two. Start with their records and work out from there. If they were on parole we’ll have employment notes. Stuff like that. Anything we can use to put lines between these girls.”

It was always hard when a human being was reduced to sheets of paper in a battered manila folder, and even more when you didn’t know if the person was still alive. Both girls had records, giving her a starting point. And whoever had done the initial interviews actually bothered to fill out the forms. She felt a quick pang when she saw one of the signatures scrawled on the redhead’s interview. Larry Zito. Larry had always been thorough. It looked like she’d been swept up in one of the periodic King’s Pawn stings, trying to sell a watch reported stolen by a Japanese businessman who didn’t want his name recorded. There were court notes and…

Grabbing the other folder, Trudy flipped through until she came to the same form in the other girl’s jacket. “Guys, were any of your girls represented by Lydia James from the public defender’s office?”

Stan almost spilled his coffee. “Damn! I was just getting into this one.” Papers riffled as he turned pages. “She shows up in here twice.”

Gina nodded. “Here, too. And the other one. Let me check the third.”

Trudy smiled, but her eyes were dark and mean. “I think we found our dotted line. We need to bring the lieutenant up to speed. We might need to send Miss James some business.”

Martin Castillo looked like he’d slept at his desk. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, and Trudy wondered if he ever really slept at all. “What do you have?”

The others nodded, and Trudy spoke for the team, letting Castillo know what they’d found. “We’ve looked at eight girls, including the two that are missing. Each one of them had at least one encounter with Lydia James. I know that office is understaffed, but that’s just too much of a coincidence for us. It’s the only thing those girls have in common aside from their physical stuff.”

“And Brooklyn Vice?”

“We haven’t heard back from them yet.” Trudy took a deep breath, mustering her courage. “Lieutenant, I don’t want to wait for them. Let us come up with a plan to draw this Midas out in the open.”

“What were you thinking?”

She looked at the others and pushed ahead, putting what she’d seen in the file together as she spoke. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve been busted as part of my streetwalker cover. Switek can stye a bust, and I’ll request James as my PD.”

Gina shook her head. “How do you know he’ll bite?”

Trudy smiled, seeing a flash of something in Castillo’s eyes she couldn’t identify. “He doesn’t have any black girls in his string yet. And this is all natural.” She did a turn, still liking the way the blue dress accented her figure. “I might see if I can get Noogie to talk me up a bit, too. Let the word come from two sides.”

“Do you think he’s spotting for Midas?”

“No, lieutenant. I don’t. I think if he could he’d drop Midas himself. He’s a hustler, but he doesn’t hurt working girls. But he does talk, and Midas seems to have Rizzo’s staked out. We give it a couple of days, and if he doesn’t bite we can always try Gina.”

Gina smiled. “Put this spicy Italian in front of him and we’ll be good to go.”

“It’s risky either way. And backup is limited. Crockett’s about to go on a special assignment and I need Tubbs to keep working the Mendoza angles.”

“I got this, lieutenant. I’ll keep ‘em safe.”

Castillo looked down at the top of his desk. A minute passed. Then two. Then he looked up. “Do it. Submit the plan and I’ll make the calls. We should have everything in place by tomorrow morning. I’ll also prepare a warrant request for Lydia James’ bank records. If he’s paying her off something might show up there. I want the case against her to be airtight. If she’s selling her clients, I want her to pay to the fullest extent possible.”

Back in the squad room, Trudy let the air out of her lungs with a low hiss. “I can’t believe he’s letting us go ahead.”

“Why?” Stan fed a form into his typewriter and started banging away. Somehow he’d ended up being the fastest typist in the unit and usually did all the forms if they were in a hurry. “It’s a damned good plan, Trudy. Better than some I’ve seen the Hardy Boys come up with.”

Gina nodded. “He’s right. It’s a good, solid plan based on the evidence we’ve got right now.”

“Thanks.” Trudy smiled. The praise felt good, but at the same time unearned. She’d just said things as they came to her. But if Castillo signed off on it there must be something to it. And they’d gone to him first instead of just presenting him with something they’d already started. Lord knows she’d seen that happen more than a few times. “Let’s get it written up and get to work. I hate to say it, Gina, but that means we gotta go back to Rizzo’s. Or at least I do.”

“We’ll both go. That way if I have to step in it won’t look like I just appeared out of thin air.” She looked down at her light dress and sighed. “But now I gotta go get my working clothes on. At least you came prepared.”

“Something just told me to.” Trudy smiled, not really sure why she’d chosen this dress today. She liked how she looked in it, but she hadn’t been thinking of impressing anyone when she was picking out clothes this morning.

Once Gina headed for the locker room, Stan turned to Trudy. “Thanks in there for speaking up. The lieutenant and I…”

She nodded. “I get it. It’s always hard to know what he’s thinking. I just decided to go for it.” She was about to go on when Crockett and Tubbs breezed in.

Sonny was heated up about something. “I don’t get it, Rico. What’s so damned important we have to break off a meet to come in?”

“You got me, partner. Castillo said come in, so I come in.” Rico grinned, looking over at Stan and Trudy. “You haven’t heard anything, have you?”

She shook her head. “No. We’re neck-deep in a case, though.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure it’s all very exciting.” Sonny paced by his desk. “But we’re this close to bringing in one of the Mendoza brothers’ enforcers.”

Stan grimaced. “You said that last week, Crockett. And the week before that. I did hear Castillo say something about a special detail for you, though.”

“Special detail? We got a chance to break up one of the biggest cartels in South Florida and I catch a special detail?”

“That’s right.” Castillo’s voice echoed from his office doorway. “Crockett. Tubbs. Now.”

Trudy looked at Stan and winked. “That was just mean.”

“So’s talking about our case like it’s nothing special.” Stan grimaced, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, Trudy. He just gets under my skin these days.”

“I get it, Stan. I miss him, too. But we got to focus on this now. Midas has probably killed two people already, maybe more. We only know about these two because of Noogie.”

Gina came out dressed in one of her street combos; tight skirt and low-cut top with dangerously high heels. “Sounds like I missed the fireworks.”

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here before more go off.” Trudy looked at the frosted glass of the office door. “Should be any second now.”

“What!” The single word leaked around the edges of the door like it was wide open. Stan chuckled. “I’ll go see if that Brooklyn stuff is here yet. You ladies have fun at Rizzo’s.”

 

Noogie was on break when they sauntered into Rizzo’s, sitting at the bar with Annie and a glass of beer. “Well, well! If it ain’t my two next-favorite ladies. After my main squeeze of course.” He looked over and blew Annie a kiss.

“That’s what you always say, Noogie. When are you gonna get me a singing gig?”

“Soon, baby. Soon. I got a call in with the cat who owns Rumour, and that dude with the cash down at Last Call wants to hear you audition. Just no country, dig? The cat ain’t into hillbilly music.”

“Sure, baby.” Annie looked over at Gina and Trudy with bored eyes. “I’ll let you talk business.”

Trudy tried not to smile. Noogie’s idea of domestic bliss clearly left a lot to be desired. “We need you to put the word out about two new freelancers hanging out at Rizzo’s.”

“Are you crazy? Insane in the membrane? That cat Midas gonna hear that word.”

“And that’s what we want. We’re gonna take him down. But we need to get him in the open first.”

“So the Noog-man was right about this dude?”

“Yes.” Trudy smiled. “He’s a bad guy from New York City. We might not have made the connection if you hadn’t told us about those two missing girls.”

“Just don’t let word get around the Noog-man has a heart.”

Gina chuckled. “Your secret’s safe with us, Noogie. Just get the word moving.”

“You came to the right man. They call Noogie the pony express because he always delivers. Twenty-four seven I’m always spreadin’ the word.”

Back on the street, Gina turned to Trudy. “You were right about him.”

“I knew plenty like him growing up. Some were bad clear through, but most of them had a soft spot somewhere. You just had to find it.”

“How did you know that was his?”

“He doesn’t get anything out of it. If he was running girls, I wouldn’t believe a word he said. But Noogie stays clear of that. He’s all about moving stolen goods, running cons with Izzy, and now spinning discs at Rizzo’s. These guys find their racket and stick to it. It’s how they survive. The ones who branch out end up floating in the river.”

“It must have been tough.”

Trudy shrugged, knowing Gina could never really understand just how it had been. “You deal with it. If you don’t it deals with you. We’d better get back and see if Stan’s got anything new.”

Stan was grinning ear to ear when they walked in. “You missed a hell of a Sonny temper tantrum. Castillo’s got him babysitting some Federal witness or another and he just about lost his shit all over the office. Rico’s out now calming him down.”

Gina’s face changed, and Trudy could see what was coming in her eyes. “Those are tough details. And Sonny has put in a lot of time on the Mendoza thing.”

“And burned my informant in the process.” Stan shrugged. “At the end of the day we go where the lieutenant tells us, or we drop our badges on his desk and go become mall cops. Crockett’s no different.”

“I…”

“Let’s focus on our case.” Trudy spoke fast, trying to bring them back on track. If Gina and Stan got started fighting about Sonny they’d lose the rest of the day. “Did anything come in from Brooklyn Vice?”

Stan nodded, gratitude plain in his eyes. “It did. He’s our guy. No question. The tattoos are the same, and the profile of the girls matches almost exactly. He got his start there in a strip club, so he’s working on the ‘if it ain’t broke’ model. Started small and then started poaching other pimps’ girls. That’s what got Flash after him.”

“Good. Can you add that to our plan for the lieutenant?”

“Already did. It’s ready to go unless you want to look it over.”

“No. You’re better at that than I am.” She smiled, knowing Stan could use the little boost. And it was true: he was better at writing up plans than either of them. He’d had more practice running his surveillance operations with Larry. Maybe this was his way of feeling like his friend was still with them. Unlike some cops, Trudy didn’t care who did the plan. All that mattered was taking the target down in a way that would lead to a conviction.

“Are we going back to Rizzo’s tonight? Cause if we’re not I’m getting out of this straightjacket and into something more comfortable.”

“I don’t think we need to. Give Noogie time to do his magic. We also need to set up the fake bust with Stan.” Trudy ran timelines in her mind. “Tomorrow’s more likely. Maybe even the day after depending on what Stan has to say.”

When Stan came back his eyes were bright. “He signed off with no changes. Said he’s gonna work the warrant now that we got Brooklyn’s info too.” He looked around. “Gina changing?”

“Yes. We’re not going back to Rizzo’s tonight.” Trudy sat down at her desk with a sigh. “We need to figure out the fake bust, though.”

“Halfway there. I’ll be playing fat, dumb tourist. Only the last bit’s an act, so it shouldn’t be a problem. You come up and try to pick me up and I play the ‘Freeze! Miami Vice!’ routine and haul you out in cuffs. They’re a new pair, so they won’t be too tight. Then we park you in holding here with the other catches of the day and you can make your call.”

She nodded. “Sounds perfect to me.” It was a good plan, too. Simple and nothing out of the ordinary. Busts just like it went down in clubs all over town on any given night.

“Trudy? Do you have a minute?”

Stan grinned. “You’re in trouble…”

“Be right there, lieutenant.” Sticking her tongue out at Stan, Trudy got up and headed for the corner office.

“How were your first two days back?” Castillo didn’t look up.

“Good, lieutenant. We’ve got a good plan to catch this Midas character and hopefully find those two girls alive.” Inside she was sure they were dead, but you always based at least part of a plan on hope.

“I know. It’s a good plan.” There was silence. “I mean how are you doing?”

“I’m good.” She shifted, not quite knowing how to answer. He looked so alone sitting there. Funny she’d never noticed that before. The aloneness of him. “I was expecting it to feel strange, but Stan and Gina have been kind.”

“And Crockett and Tubbs?”

“To be honest today was the first time I’d seen them.”

“I want to know if there are any issues. I said you’re good to be back and that should be enough for anyone.” He looked up and smiled, and she felt the warmth in his eyes. When he wanted they could be a very pretty brown. And so deep…

“Thank you, lieutenant. I’ll let you know. But it’s good to be back. I was going nuts just sitting by myself second-guessing everything I did. Wondering…”

“Some things are best left alone. Lou DeLong might be one of those things.” He looked back down at the desk. “I’ll let you know if the warrant comes through. Execute your plan either way.”

“I see your head’s still attached.” Gina looked up from her copy of Stan’s typed-up plan.

“He just wanted to see how I was doing.” She shrugged, still trying to wrap her head around what she’d seen in his eyes. “But we’re good to go. He said execute with or without the warrant for her financials. I think he’s assuming we’ll shake enough loose to get it later if we don’t get it now.”

Stan chuckled. “I don’t know about you girls, but I’m going to go home and soak in a nice warm bath.”

“Now that is an image I did NOT need!” Trudy laughed, noticing a touch of color in Gina’s cheeks. “I’ll see you all in the morning. We need to run through the arrest plan and coordinate with the uniforms in that district before we go. I don’t want some beat cop getting nervous.”

It was dark by the time Trudy got to the door of her apartment. They’d taken longer than she’d through, and stopping by the store to grab some food added on time. Locking the door, she put her groceries away and went about making a green salad. It was just too hot to think about anything else.

She sat by the balcony door so she could look out and imagine she could see the ocean. Or at least pretend the apartment complex pool was the ocean. Somewhere across the courtyard music blared, and she sighed. It had been getting progressively worse since college kids had discovered the complex. Maybe one day she’d be able to afford a house somewhere quiet, maybe with a hint of the ocean. But that wasn’t likely on a cop’s pay.

Forking the last of the lettuce and dressing into her mouth, she let her mind play back over the plan they’d drawn up. It was good, but things could always go wrong. Setting the dirty bowl in the sink, she changed into a loose t-shirt and baggy shorts before sitting back down. But something had changed. Instead of the plan she kept coming back to Martin Castillo.

She’d never noticed before how alone he looked in that office. Always watching over them like a protective father, but she wondered for the first time who watched over him. She’d heard about his house from Sonny and Rico, the little Japanese-style cottage out near the water. Letting her mind go, she wondered how he’d furnish it. If it was like him, it would be simple and functional, but with a touch of something just beyond what you’d expect to find.

Then she remembered his wife, and Trudy felt an unexpected pang of jealousy. Why be jealous? She’s remarried and gone. I don’t think they were ever really married in our sense. No license and all that. Still, the pang wouldn’t go away.

Then there was the look in his eyes when he asked how she was doing. It had been real concern, mixed with something more. She wasn’t sure what, and didn’t want to dream in anything that wasn’t there. Still, she knew she’d been looking at him differently. Was there anything…

 

Trudy awoke with a start, stretching out kinks in her neck and long legs. She’d managed to fall asleep on the couch, and her couch wasn’t designed for any kind of comfortable sleeping. Rubbing her neck with a grimace, she got to her feet and thought for a moment about going to bed. But the orange tint to the sky told her it was pointless. Instead she started coffee and showered while it brewed, letting the jets of hot water work the stiffness out of her muscles.

Drying herself off, she paused for a moment and looked in the bathroom mirror, remembering how Castillo had chuckled when the Big Booty Trudy sign appeared on her desk. “It’s not that big,” she muttered, turning to make sure. Walking into the bedroom, she took extra care picking out her wardrobe for the day…it would have to do double duty since she didn’t want to come back and change before the operation began. In the end she settled with an olive and black one-piece dress that came off her shoulders and dipped low in both the front and back. Black leather knee boots completed the look.

At first she’d been self-conscious about her working clothes, but now it was more like playing dress-up. All that mattered was matching the clothes to what she wanted people to believe she was doing on any given night. And tonight she wanted to look like a brash hooker out to pick up a fat, lazy businessman. Looking at herself in the mirror, she shifted back and forth, finally pulling the shoulder straps down so they came across her biceps like cropped sleeves. “That’s the look,” she muttered, teasing out her hair and applying makeup with the same intensity.

Rico whistled when she walked into the squad room. “Now that is stylin’ and profilin’, Trudy my love. You do all that for me?”

“Never happen, Rico.” And she meant it. Tubbs was attractive in a nasty bad boy kind of way, but she’d had her fill of that type going all the way back to David. “We’re working tonight.”

“Yeah. Stan said something about that. He must be the chump, ‘cause he’s wearing that damned awful powder blue leisure suit of his. I keep telling him to step up his game, but he always says ‘this is stepped up for Des Moines’.”

“He’s got a point. He does know his cover.”

“That he does. And now I gotta carry the Mendoza thing solo. Crockett got saddled with babysitting some Federal witness or another.”

“Yeah. We heard the tantrum yesterday. I didn’t think he’d get out of it.”

“No. And get this…it’s a she and she’s a pop star.”

“Anyone we know?” Trudy wasn’t really paying attention as she flipped through the information they’d gotten from Brooklyn Vice the day before. Just in case Stan had added something.

“Caitlin Davies I think they said her name was.”

“I thought she was dead. Or at least career dead.”

“I only know what I hear when Crockett’s screaming at Castillo.”

Trudy smiled. “I’ll bet that went over well.”

“Not so much.” Rico chuckled. “In the end I think it came down to take the detail or take a suspension.”

“Even Crockett’s not that stupid.” Stan sauntered in from the side room, his powder blue leisure suit bagging in just the right places for him to look like a down-on-his-luck tractor salesman from Des Moines out for a good time in the big city. “Castillo doesn’t bluff.”

“Nothing new?” Trudy gestured toward the file.

“Nope. We got all they had. I just went through and picked out some more information.”

“How do you see this playing out?”

Stan chuckled. “At least you didn’t say going down.” He raised his hands. “Just kidding! Anyhow, I’ll be sitting at the bar playing rube in the big city seeing titties for the first time. You come up with your no nonsense soul sister act going. We talk, I flash the badge and bust you as soon as a price is mentioned, and we come downtown. I already alerted patrol near Rizzo’s that we have a bust going down. They shouldn’t get in the way. Oh, and the lieutenant got that warrant. We’ll know more than she does about her money by this time tomorrow.”

“Great. Is Gina here yet?”

“Yes, and my feet are killing me. I shouldn’t have gone out dancing last night.” Gina sat down at her desk with a sigh, kicking off her low heels.

“Probably not.” Trudy thought about asking if it was anyone they knew, but she knew the look in her partner’s eyes and didn’t want to know. Maybe someday she’s see Crockett was just stringing her along. No, she corrected herself, he’s not really stringing her along. She doesn’t want to see the truth. He’s moved on from her. There was always a chance she’d just gone out, but Trudy knew that look.

“Live and learn, I guess.”

Rico chuckled. “I didn’t know Sonny could dance.”

“It wasn’t Crockett, wise guy. It was an old friend.”

Trudy saw through the lie but didn’t say a word. No about that, at least. “We’ve got a few hours. Did we get a mug shot from NYPD? Good. The quality’s crap because it’s a fax, but look it over just the same. If he’s in Rizzo’s we stick to the plan, but Gina you’ll want to stay even more in the background. I won’t be carrying my gun or my badge just in case, but if things go south we’ll use the color of the day.” She looked at Stan.

“Purple. Like purple haze.” He shrugged. “Not my department, people. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Any questions?” Trudy looked from Stan to Gina. “No? Let’s do it. Stan, you go in about half an hour ahead of me. Gina, you might want to do the same. I won’t have a radio at all, so any communication will come from Stan.”

“I’ll draw one of the unmarked units from the lot and have it curbside so it’s a short trip from the bar to the cell.” Stan chuckled again. “We aim to please and all that.”

Gina nodded. “Once it goes down I’ll hang out for another ten minutes or so and then head back here. Just in case something happens inside we need to know about. I will have my gun and badge, though.”

Trudy walked into Rizzo’s just after ten like she owned the place, striding past the doorman in her high boots with a sneer on her face. “Outa my way,” she said. “Hot package comin’ through.”

The big guy just chuckled and let her go. Odds were he’d seen worse in his days at Rizzo’s door.

Stan was leaning back against the bar with a drink in his hand hooting at one of the girls. Noogie up in the booth was spinning “Super Freak,” and the girl was doing everything she could to live up to the song’s image. Pushing past a waitress, Trudy planted herself in front of Stan. “She ain’t no super freak,” she announced in a brash twang. “I’m the super freak. You think you got what it takes to satisfy me?”

Stan grinned, playing it up. “Oh I think I can accommodate, sweet thing. We grow ‘em big in Iowa, and I’m not just talking about corn stalks.”

She straddled him, grabbing his tie and pulling him close. “Ain’t talkin’ about those corn-fed women you got that way.”

“Neither am I.”

“Then I’d say you might have what it takes to satisfy the super freak.” She stepped back, still holding onto his tie. “But this ride ain’t free, see? Most things in life worth havin’ aren’t free.”

“Don’t I know it? What are we talking?”

“They say time is money, so more time, more money.”

Stan made a show of fumbling in his wallet. “I got three hundred bucks in need of a home.”

“Then you got all night, stud.”

He was quick. She had to admit that. His hand shot under his jacket and came out filled with his stainless steel Browning, the other filled with a badge appearing from nowhere. “Freeze! Miami Vice! You’re under arrest for solicitation. Keep your hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Don’t you touch me! You ain’t paid, so you can’t lay hands on!” Trudy kept her hands high, noticing how quickly the crowd at the bar scattered as soon as Stan made his move. Up in his booth, Noogie didn’t miss a beat, changing the record to “I Fought the Law.” As Stan slapped the cuffs on her with a big flourish she kept squalling about false arrest and her rights and how he’d best not put any bruises on or she’d be suing for lost wages. All the tried and true hooker lines she’d heard over the years. She hadn’t noticed if Midas was in the club, but by the time she was outside she figured he would have heard something about the encounter. Word traveled fast on the streets, faster when a bust was going down.

She kept up the act, screaming for her lawyer, until the second Stan slammed the door on the unmarked unit and started toward OCB. Then they both started to laugh. “You have no idea how hard it was to keep a straight face when you grabbed my damned tie!”

“You? Hell, I almost peed myself when you laid out that corn stalk line.”

“That’s one of my best. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.” Stan chuckled, tossing the key to the cuffs to her. “Might as well get comfortable until we get to holding.”

They repeated the show all the way through to the holding cells, Trudy screaming about her rights, abuse, and how she wanted her lawyer right damned now! “You get this one on the phone I heard about. Lydia James. Yeah, that what my girlfriend said. Lydia James! You call her and get her down here and we sue your ass, white boy! You hear me?”

The girl in the next cell, a tough looking little Cubana, raised her head from her bunk. “Keep it down, puta. Some of us want sleep.”

“Keep it down? I keep you down, you bitch! Yeah, you heard right. Ain’t no one tells Trudy what to do! No one!”

“You think you special cause you ain’t got no pimp?” The girl chuckled before lying back down. “You just wait, puta. Midas will come for you.”

“I don’t want no damned muffler!”

“Not the car shop, you crazy bitch. You learn soon enough.”

Trudy paced in the cell, keeping up her act while her brain raced. The girl had at least heard of Midas, and hadn’t said anything until she yelled about Lydia James. They had to be on the right track.

Two hours later Trudy got her first look at Lydia James. To be more accurate, she got her first look at Lydia James’ hair; thick and blonde bobbing in a long ponytail behind her like a flag. It drew attention away from her thin face and a pair of mean blue eyes reminding Trudy of a high school cheerleader captain’s. She wore a cheap version of a power suit with a pencil skirt and flats, but the perfume that preceded her arrive was expensive. She looked at the bored guard. “I want my client in an interview room. Now.” Her voice was as thin and lifeless as her face.

Once the door to the room clicked shut, Lydia raised her hand. “Don’t start in about how you were entrapped or he misunderstood. I know the entire routine. Getting you out of here isn’t the problem. Keeping you out of here is.”

“Don’t you think I know that? And is that all you got?” Trudy leaned forward, sneering with her eyes. “My girlfriend said you was the best.”

“Oh, I am. Have no doubt about that. But I don’t just do legal aid. I also do job placement.”

“Job? I don’t need no damned job.”

“You misunderstand.” Lydia leaned forward, her perfume engulfing Trudy like a  cloud. “It’s more working with someone. You share your take with him, and he keeps the cops off you and makes sure if anything happens I’m the one who catches your case. Every time.”

“I don’t need no damned pimp.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong, lady. You need protection, and that’s what he provides.” Her eyes went mean again. “You think the cops care about what happens to you? They don’t. You’re another easy arrest to meet the monthly quota is all. The lawyers in my office? They don’t care either. You’re just another dumb bitch who keeps making the same bad decision over and over. Me? I care. And the man I work with? He cares, too.”

“About my money.”

“Some of it, yes. But you get something back. And you can keep working.” She looked at Trudy again, the eyes appraising this time. “Is that all real?”

“You mean these?” Trudy cupped her breasts. “Every damned inch of ‘em. The booty, too. I ain’t messin’ with the perfection God gave me.”

“That’s good. He prefers his girls natural.” Lydia reached into her leather bag and pulled out a card. “Look, give him a call when I get you out. Talk to him. Meet with him once. You’ll see the advantages. He’s got a golden touch.”

“He the one that tattoos his girls? I been hearing some things…”

“Lies. They get the tattoos to show they’re working with him, not for him. You’ll see.”

Trudy turned the card over in her fingers, making a show of thinking it over. She had to admit Lydia was good. If she really was young and desperate the pitch would sound damned good. And convincing. “You get me outa here I’ll call the man.”

“Good choice.” Lydia got up and banged on the door for the guard. “You’ll be out in under two hours.”

Instead of going back to holding, Trudy waited until Lydia was clear of the building before crossing into OCB and heading for the squad room. Gina and Stan were sitting, waiting for her. “That is one cold bitch,” she announced, tossing the gold-colored card on the table. “Cold but persuasive if you’ve got no other options. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

Before Stan could answer, the phone rang. He picked it up and muttered a couple of quick words. When he hung up he was smiling. “That was fast. Your bail’s been posted.”

“Have them process me out. I’ll give it an hour and call this Midas.”

“That’ll put it after midnight.” Gina looked at the clock.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to wait too long. Lydia implied the sooner I called the better.” She looked at the card again. “Makes sense. He wants to see how easy they’ll be to break.”

Castillo came out of his office, making Trudy wonder again if he ever really left the building. “Report.”

She brought him up to date. “James is in it up to her damned ponytail, lieutenant. No mistake. I’m going to call this number in under half an hour and we’ll go from there.”

“Meet him at one of the safe houses. I don’t want to take any chances with this one. He’s wanted in connection with at least two homicides in New York City in addition to our two probables. I’ll come along as backup.”

Trudy nodded, swallowing hard. That meant he’d seen something in the file they’d missed. “We’d appreciate the support, lieutenant.”

“This man is dangerous. I spoke with the FBI an hour ago. They have a file on him going back to Detroit and Chicago. He’s suspected of killing girls there, too. New York wasn’t his first time.”

“NYPD never said…”

“They didn’t know. For unknown reasons the FBI never told them. I had a hunch, so I made some calls.” Castillo’s smile was thin. “The NYPD is unhappy with the FBI now.”

Stan chuckled. “Do tell? The Feebs have a way of pissing in their own Cheerios.”

Trudy stifled a yawn with the back of her hand. “I’m gonna make the call.” Picking up the receiver, she punched in a rerouted outside line and entered the number.

Someone picked up on the third ring. “Go.”

“Some bitch named Lydia said I should call this number.”

If it was Midas, he had a smooth, radio-ready delivery. “She said something about you. You must be Trudy.”

“Yeah. Now what I gotta do to square the bail deal?”

“We need to meet. To talk. Lydia is a bit rough around the edges sometimes. I like to meet the girls I help face to face and work things out.”

“I suppose. I got to get back to earnin’, and she says you can help with that.”

“Oh, yes. I can help with many things. You sound like a smart girl. You pick where we meet.”

“I got a crib over on Third Street.” She gave the address of one of OCB’s safe houses scattered throughout the city. This one perched just on the edge of a bad neighborhood. The kind of place a hooker in need of protection might live. “You sound nice. You pick them time.”

“I expect you’ll want to get cleaned up and rest after tonight. How about tomorrow at eleven? I’ll come by. And Trudy? Lydia said you’re all natural. I hope that’s true. I like to check.”

She shivered as the last words filled her ears, followed by a click and the dial tone. “We have until about eleven to get set up. I’d start moving now, since I’ll bet he’s already got people moving to watch the place.”

Castillo nodded. “We have two apartments there. We’ll take the one next door. There’s a connecting door we added. Switek, you’re driving. Trudy, you follow about twenty minutes later.”

The safe house was exactly what Trudy had expected - a simple apartment on the third story of a five story building. She made a show of turning on lights and opening and closing curtains to show she was home and probably going to bed before shutting off all the lights and going to the connecting door. “You guys there?”

She heard Stan’s chuckle. “With bells on. No, that’s just me. Gina’s already asleep and the lieutenant is in one of those martial arts trances.”

“It’s called meditation, Switek.” She heard Castillo’s low voice through the cracked door. “Get some sleep, both of you.”

Glad she’d thought to grab a change of clothes from her locker, Trudy lounged on the apartment’s worn couch in jeans and a tight t-shirt, waiting for a knock at the door. They’d gone over the plan earlier. The apartments had been set up for controlled meets, so all Stan had to do was start the tape rolling and everything in Trudy’s place would be recorded. They’d wait by the unlocked connecting door, and as soon as she thought they had enough or if she felt she was in danger all she’d have to do is use the phrase ‘super freak’ and they’d come running.

She chuckled. The code phrase had been Stan’s idea. “You were so damned convincing last night we might as well use it again,” he said, and once again she noticed red dots on Gina’s cheeks. But now it was just a matter of waiting.

The minute hand on the cheap wall clock just slid to one minute after eleven when someone knocked on the door. Checking to make sure her Smith & Wesson was secure between the couch cushions, she went to the door and opened it. “Have no fear,” the smooth radio voice said as soon as the lock clicked open. “Midas is here.”

He seemed bigger in person than the file indicated, although Trudy put that down to a combination of his shoulders and his square jaw. His skin was a deep black, his hair cut short in a tight Afro. He might have been attractive except for his eyes, which were dark brown and empty. She’d seen eyes like that before…on men who liked hurting women. “Midas, hunh? Like the muffler place? Come on in.”

“No. More like the ancient king who turned everything he touched into gold.” The man smiled as he walked in like he owned the apartment, taking it all in with a single disapproving glance. “We’ll get you set up better than this once you start working for me.”

“Who said I was workin’ for you? That bitch said workin’ with you.”

“Yes. Same thing. I work for you, keeping you safe, and you work for me generating income. So we work for each other.” He looked her up and down like he was sizing up livestock. “Yeah, I’d say it’s natural. But I have to be sure. Take off the t-shirt.”

She pulled it over her head without flinching. “That enough for you?”

“The bra, too. You never know what’s under those wires.”

She’d been expecting it, and popped the front clasp without looking away from his eyes. Shrugging, she let it fall to the floor. “Like I said, natural.”

“Yes they are.” He stared for a long moment, and she saw his eyes starting to change. And she didn’t like what she saw. “Now I need to make sure you got what it takes to earn for us both.”

“Now hold on. How do I know you ain’t just gonna get your taste and duck out? There’s a reason I ain’t with no pimp.” She took a step away from him, opening distance and trying to get him near the connecting door.

“You just have to trust me. It’s business, baby. I wouldn’t be in business if you couldn’t trust me. But you also don’t want to say no. Two girls already have, and you don’t see them around, do you? But if you put on my colors, you’re golden. You’re protected and live in style. I just take my cut and make sure you’re still good from time to time. Hell, you’ll enjoy it. They all do. My touch ain’t the only thing that’s golden.”

She wasn’t sure if it was enough or not. But Midas was getting closer, and the streets taught Trudy from an early age not to take chances. Not with things like this. She smiled, licking her lips. “Well ain’t you just a super freak?”

The next thing she knew Martin Castillo was in the room. She didn’t even remember hearing the door crash open. His big Magnum was out and inches from Midas’s nose. “Miami Vice. You’re under arrest for pimping, murder, and we’re holding you for extradition for murders in three other jurisdictions.” Castillo’s eyes changed, and Trudy hoped she never saw them like that again. “You can raise your hands or lose your head. Two seconds.” Midas’s hands shot toward the ceiling, and Trudy had the satisfaction of seeing a wide wet stain spread across the front of his tight jeans.

From behind her Gina cleared her throat. “You might want this,” she said, passing the t-shirt over.

Trudy felt her cheeks getting hot as she pulled the shirt on. Stan was busy looking out the window, and she decided she didn’t care if Castillo saw her. In fact, a small part of her hoped he had. Then she pulled the handcuffs out of her back jeans pocket and yanked one of Midas’s arms down. “You know the drill, bitch,” she snarled.

 

Trudy looked at the final report and smiled. “Midas might not be talking, but that bitch James is singing like an opera star.”

Stan nodded. “We were right about her financials. She might have been good at sweet-talking girls, but she was lousy at hiding her money. It’s all there. Looks like he was paying her five grand a girl.”

“Did she know what happened to the two Noogie reported? I’d like to let him know.”

“Yeah.” Stan’s voice dropped. “It’s not good. He killed ‘em and dumped them about five miles offshore. But not before…”

She nodded, knowing what he was going to say. “He’ll get the same inside. No matter where he ends up.”

Gina nodded, looking up from the papers. “How many girls did he take advantage of with that bitch’s help?”

“At least fifteen. Maybe twenty. We might never know for sure. She’s a lawyer so she’ll let it out slow in hopes of getting a better deal.” Stan shook his head. “Although she might not find the ladies in County as accommodating as the DA’s office. Some of them had sisters Midas turned out.”

“You might have the DA mention that little fact in case she forgot.” Trudy smiled. “It might make her talk faster.”

Castillo came out of his office, a rare smile on his face. “Good work,” he said simply. “A good plan executed well. The tape will hold up, and if it doesn’t we can still extradite him to New York, Michigan, or Illinois. He’ll do hard time no matter what.”

Trudy nodded, her cheeks warming at the memory of her topless show. Had he seen? And if he had, did he like what he saw? Again, that little corner of her hoped the answer to both questions was yes. But now she had an errand to run. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna run by Rizzo’s and let Noogie know. We wouldn’t have really even known about this guy if he hadn’t have come forward.”

Castillo nodded. “There’s a reward for him being offered by New York. Tell Noogie he can come by and start the paperwork to claim it.”

 

Noogie was on his break, and his face almost split in two at Trudy’s news. “So the Noog-man done good for once?”

“Damned good, Noogie. And Castillo said to tell you to come by and fill out some paperwork. Apparently New York had a reward out for this guy.”

Noogie looked around and let his sunglasses fall off his forehead and onto his nose. “Say, look heayar. I’ll fill that paper out, but don’t let Annie know. There’s…” He paused, looked around, and lowered his voice. “There’s a shelter for battered women I want the cash to go to. You dig? My sister…”

“You got nothing to explain to me, Noogie. The money’s yours to do with as you please. But I never met a good hustler who didn’t have a heart down there somewhere.”

“Just don’t let no one know, dig? The Noon-man’s got a reputation to maintain.” He grinned, but she could see the tears streaking down under his glasses. “But now I gotta go spin a tune to bring the poon, if you can dig what the Noog-man is sayin’.”

She laughed with him, touching his shoulder before he stepped away. “I can dig it, Noogie. I can dig it all the way. You did good. Don’t forget that.”

 

Stan shook his head. “He’s doing what?”

“Giving it to a battered woman’s shelter.”

“He knows it’s ten large, right?”

“I don’t think he cares, Stan.” She remembered how he’d dropped the glasses to hide his eyes and understood now. “It’s something from his past. We gotta respect that.”

Stan nodded. “Yeah, we do. I got some respect for the little weirdo now.”

“I told you. Most of the hustlers I knew still had a heart. You just had to find it sometimes.” Trudy smiled, looking at the closed office door out of the corner of her eye. What was it about Castillo that had suddenly tugged at a corner of hers? And would she ever know?

Just so great. Great to see The Noog Man featured.

[Robbie C.]

22 minutes ago, Matt5 said:

Just so great. Great to see The Noog Man featured.

Thanks. I wanted to get a bit into Trudy's backstory, and the more I dug the more I figured she'd be the one on the team who 'got' Noogie and what he was about.

[mjcmmv]

That was terrific! Your dialogue is always so spot on. I could hear Noogie's voice in my head.  Trudy's, too. The Stan/Trudy act in the stripper club was hilarious! Great job!

[Robbie C.]

I had fun with Stan in this one even though he’s not on stage much. He always had some undercover chops. 

Edited August 26, 2019 by Robbie C.

[Robbie C.]

Next up might be a story from Noogie's POV. Kicking an idea or two around...

[vicegirl85]

On 8/24/2019 at 7:20 PM, Robbie C. said:

The houseboat had stopped appearing in her dreams last Friday, but she wasn’t ready to look at a jar of peanut butter. Locking the car, she headed into OCB, nodding to the uniform at the front desk before heading down to the squad room. The clicking of her high heels on the dirty tile floor seemed extra-loud today, and she forced a smile on her face. They’d offered her more leave, but she turned it down. She needed to get back to work, to get her brain occupied again. She hadn’t felt this broken since the day the two officers came to her front door and told them her brother had been murdered.

Love this.  Mixes what appears at first to be humor, with some really heavy allusions to Trudy's tragic backstory.

On 8/24/2019 at 7:20 PM, Robbie C. said:

“The Hardy Boys?” Stan’s voice had a bite to it. “Out chasing bikinis and running up the expense accounts.”

“Now, Stan.” Gina smiled. “They’re following up on a lead about the Mendozas. Stan’s probably right, though.”

I like this, too.  Down for the Count was such a sad ep for me that I don't think I've ever re-watched it.  And therefore I think I missed out on some of the nuances.  Stan's lingering anger and resentment toward Sonny is understandable and I like how you have it pop out in small ways like this comment.

On 8/24/2019 at 7:20 PM, Robbie C. said:

Trudy nodded, knowing Stan was right. Still, any visit to his office was unsettling. Unless you were Crockett.

And I think Crockett may have hidden it better, but I think he was also unsettled if he was summoned.  He didn't let others see that (or at least, tried not to let them).  I think his blowing up was a defense mechanism, but I like the way you show the team taking his behavior at face value. 

On 8/24/2019 at 7:20 PM, Robbie C. said:

Trudy could feel it now, that little tickle she got when something was dancing just out of reach but starting to get closer. The only thing that would ruin it now was the lieutenant telling them they had to go undercover as strippers or hookers at Rizzo’s. Turning to Gina, she put on her most persuasive smile. “Want to take a ride to Rizzo’s?”

“Let me make sure my shots are up to date.” Gina leaned across the table.

Love the description and the dialog!

On 8/24/2019 at 7:20 PM, Robbie C. said:

“I heard before I went on leave that the lieutenant was thinking of parking Sonny on some bodyguard detail.”

I absolutely love this explanation for why Crockett got the bodyguard detail--to penalize him for using poor judgment in the case of Zito and perhaps other cases.

On 8/24/2019 at 7:20 PM, Robbie C. said:

“Maybe something happened to a sister or cousin. I don’t know. But where we come from it happens all the time.” She stopped talking, knowing she’d said too much. Even to Gina.

Love the way you took the barest hints and possibilities from characters that were barely developed and you've made them real!

I've been savoring this story tonight in between some other things and unfortunately need to go in super-early tomorrow for work.  But hopefully will be able to finish up tomorrow!  This is one of my favorite stories of yours so far.

[Robbie C.]

Glad you're enjoying it! I always felt the show really missed some opportunities with Larry, both before and after his murder. It would have given Stan some great chances to shine, but they never used them. So I felt compelled to.

I really enjoy filling in Trudy's background. There was always so much more to her than they let us see.

[vicegirl85]

On 8/24/2019 at 7:20 PM, Robbie C. said:

Tubbs was attractive in a nasty bad boy kind of way, but she’d had her fill of that type going all the way back to David.

LOL!

On 8/24/2019 at 7:50 PM, Matt5 said:

Castillo’s eyes changed, and Trudy hoped she never saw them like that again. “You can raise your hands or lose your head. Two seconds.”

Yes, I can easily see this!

Sorry it's taken me so long to finish this one.  Something is messed up with my scrolling control and it'll suddenly slide halfway down the screen, or else it will barely move.  Makes it hard to read on the laptop

[Robbie C.]

No worries. You're reading them, at least.