tomorrow!” He lifted one hand to his temple in a mock salute, grabbed his grey fedora hat from the table next to him, and walked out the door.
CHAPTER 11
“Brad, it’s Slade. I went through the file on that chick named Barbara who works at Naughty’s. What time does she get off work tonight?”
“Midnight. They’re open until 2:00 a.m., but she’s got a final tomorrow, so she’s getting off early.”
“Okay. See you at 10:30 and I’ll explain the drill to ya’ then.”
Slade spent most of the evening researching Barbara Jenkins. He found out she was a thirty-six year old student pursuing her master’s degree in psychology, worked at the Naughty Gentlemen’s Club, had never been married, and had no criminal record. There were a few other things from her past, but nothing that interfered with his plan.
Good. The further I can keep her under the radar, the better.
He heard Brad’s car pull into his driveway at 10:30. Slade walked out to the nondescript 2010 silver Ford Taurus. It was a car people generally didn’t remember. There was heavy traffic on the freeways, even at this late hour. They arrived at the Naughty at 11:15.
“Brad, what does she drive?”
“That’s her car up there, the blue Chevy four door parked at the curb. It’s pretty old, but I understand she’s real tight on money.”
“Park as close to it as you can. I’ll get out here.” He opened the door, looked around, lit a cigarette, and sauntered over to Barbara’s car. It was too early for people to leave the club and too late for them to be arriving, which made it a perfect time to break into her locked car.
Broken street lights made it easier for Slade and he had the rear door of her car open in seconds. He glanced at the back seat, shut the door, and walked back to where Brad was parked. They walked into the club.
Even though it was illegal in California to smoke in a club where food was being served, the Naughty got around it by having a “Members Only” cigar club. Slade and Brad paid the fee and took a seat at a small cocktail table near the bar.
Every time Barbara walked to the bar to get a round of drinks, Slade was more and more certain Brad had made the right choice. She had long, dark, auburn hair with big green eyes and a creamy complexion. Her tight white T-shirt with her black patent leather belt, and the black shorts that ended where impossibly long shapely legs began, didn’t leave much to the imagination.
Slade glanced at his watch. “I’m leavin’ now, Brad. You got yer’ marchin’ orders.” Slade walked out the door and up the street to Barbara’s car. He looked around, didn’t see anyone, got in the back seat, and lay down on the floor.
Fifteen minutes later he heard a key being inserted into the door lock and the driver’s door opening. Barbara got behind the wheel, fastened her seat belt, started the car, and turned on the headlights. Slade remained motionless. She switched on the radio as she steered the car onto the street, humming along with a country music song. Slade knew her apartment was only five minutes away.
He pressed his snub-nosed .38 pistol against the back of her neck and said, “Doll, jes’ keep driving. I’m not gonna hurt ya’ or take any money. Jes’ need to talk to ya’. We’re gonna go to your apartment and have a little chat. Don’t worry. You’re a lot safer with me in the car.”
“Wha, what dddoo you want from me?” she stuttered, her hands visibly shaking with fright as she gripped the steering wheel.
“In good time, Doll, all in good time. You jes’ concentrate on drivin’. Tell you everything in a coupla minutes.”
From what he’d read earlier, she was from a small farm in South Dakota and had come to the big city to try and make it in the movies. When that hadn’t worked out, she’d gotten desperate for money and turned a few tricks for some men who owned the bar where she worked. Her Midwestern religious upbringing kicked in and she
CHAPTER 11
“Brad, it’s Slade. I went through the file on that chick named Barbara who works at Naughty’s. What time does she get off work tonight?”
“Midnight. They’re open until 2:00 a.m., but she’s got a final tomorrow, so she’s getting off early.”
“Okay. See you at 10:30 and I’ll explain the drill to ya’ then.”
Slade spent most of the evening researching Barbara Jenkins. He found out she was a thirty-six year old student pursuing her master’s degree in psychology, worked at the Naughty Gentlemen’s Club, had never been married, and had no criminal record. There were a few other things from her past, but nothing that interfered with his plan.
Good. The further I can keep her under the radar, the better.
He heard Brad’s car pull into his driveway at 10:30. Slade walked out to the nondescript 2010 silver Ford Taurus. It was a car people generally didn’t remember. There was heavy traffic on the freeways, even at this late hour. They arrived at the Naughty at 11:15.
“Brad, what does she drive?”
“That’s her car up there, the blue Chevy four door parked at the curb. It’s pretty old, but I understand she’s real tight on money.”
“Park as close to it as you can. I’ll get out here.” He opened the door, looked around, lit a cigarette, and sauntered over to Barbara’s car. It was too early for people to leave the club and too late for them to be arriving, which made it a perfect time to break into her locked car.
Broken street lights made it easier for Slade and he had the rear door of her car open in seconds. He glanced at the back seat, shut the door, and walked back to where Brad was parked. They walked into the club.
Even though it was illegal in California to smoke in a club where food was being served, the Naughty got around it by having a “Members Only” cigar club. Slade and Brad paid the fee and took a seat at a small cocktail table near the bar.
Every time Barbara walked to the bar to get a round of drinks, Slade was more and more certain Brad had made the right choice. She had long, dark, auburn hair with big green eyes and a creamy complexion. Her tight white T-shirt with her black patent leather belt, and the black shorts that ended where impossibly long shapely legs began, didn’t leave much to the imagination.
Slade glanced at his watch. “I’m leavin’ now, Brad. You got yer’ marchin’ orders.” Slade walked out the door and up the street to Barbara’s car. He looked around, didn’t see anyone, got in the back seat, and lay down on the floor.
Fifteen minutes later he heard a key being inserted into the door lock and the driver’s door opening. Barbara got behind the wheel, fastened her seat belt, started the car, and turned on the headlights. Slade remained motionless. She switched on the radio as she steered the car onto the street, humming along with a country music song. Slade knew her apartment was only five minutes away.
He pressed his snub-nosed .38 pistol against the back of her neck and said, “Doll, jes’ keep driving. I’m not gonna hurt ya’ or take any money. Jes’ need to talk to ya’. We’re gonna go to your apartment and have a little chat. Don’t worry. You’re a lot safer with me in the car.”
“Wha, what dddoo you want from me?” she stuttered, her hands visibly shaking with fright as she gripped the steering wheel.
“In good time, Doll, all in good time. You jes’ concentrate on drivin’. Tell you everything in a coupla minutes.”
From what he’d read earlier, she was from a small farm in South Dakota and had come to the big city to try and make it in the movies. When that hadn’t worked out, she’d gotten desperate for money and turned a few tricks for some men who owned the bar where she worked. Her Midwestern religious upbringing kicked in and she
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