Thirty-One

‘What did that idiot Culhane tell you over the phone about Jenny?’ D-King asked, turning his attention to Jerome as soon as both detectives were out of sight.

‘He said he’d checked the morgue, the hospitals and the missing persons’ files and didn’t find a thing.’

‘What a useless piece of shit he is. And we paid him for that?’

Jerome agreed with a nod.

‘Tell the girls we’ll be leaving soon, but before that get me that barman, the one Jenny used to talk to every once in a while, the long-haired one.’

‘Sure.’ Jerome watched D-King finish half a bottle of champagne in one swig. ‘Are you OK, boss?’

He threw the empty champagne bottle onto the table knocking over several glasses and attracting unwanted attention. ‘What the fuck are you looking at?’ he yelled at the table closest to his. Its four occupants quickly turned away to mind their own business.

‘No, I’m not OK,’ D-King said, turning to face Jerome. ‘As a matter of fact I’m pretty damn far from OK, Jerome. Someone snatched one of my girls right from under my nose. If what the detectives said is true she was tortured and killed.’ He looked disgusted. ‘Skinned alive, Jerome. Now you tell me, what sort of stupid motherfucker would be crazy enough to do that to one of my girls?’

Jerome could offer no answer but a shrug of his shoulders.

‘I’ll tell you who . . . a fucking dead one. I want this guy, do you feel me? I want him alive so I can show him what torture really is.’ He put his right arm around Jerome’s neck and pulled his face within an inch of his own. ‘Whatever it takes, nigga, do you understand me? Whatever it fucking takes.’