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Chapter 9


Claire got up and went to the bathroom, my eyes drawn to the sway of her rearview as she walked. Just before she shut the door she turned her head to me and smiled. Women’s butts definitely burned when you look at them.

I reached down to retrieve my pants and removed my cell phone from the pocket. I hit contacts and searched for Chuck Casey’s number then pushed send. After three rings Chuck’s voice came on the line, “Hello, this is Charles Casey.”

“Chuck, Jack Chamberlain,” I said.

“It’s OK, this is a friend of mine,” he said speaking to someone else in the room. “Where are you, Jack?”

“In Boston, over at the Marriott Boston Customs, we checked in a little while ago. Who’s there?”

“FBI, they’re recording my calls hoping for a ransom demand. We haven’t heard shit. No one knows anything and I’m going fucking crazy,” he finished with a heave of desperation.

“I’d like to come over and go over this with you. When’s a good time?”

“The sooner the better. You’re about an hour drive depending on the traffic. It’s four o’clock now. How soon can you be on the road?”

“Half hour ought to be right so let’s say five thirty.”

“Do you think you can find her, Jack? I can’t take much more of this. She could have the baby any day. Jesus God, what the fuck is wrong with these people and why won’t they contact me?”

“I don’t know, Chuck. Claire and I will do everything we can, OK?

“OK hurry though, she needs me, I know it.”

“You got it, Chuck. See you soon.” As I hung up the phone I took a deep breath and stared beyond the deep blush blue carpet under my feet. I needed a starting point and so far I knew little. I needed to pick up a white board and maybe an easel somewhere and start laying this out.

Claire came out of the bathroom furiously towel drying her hair. “Shower’s free if you want it,” she said. She dropped the towel and padded naked to her suitcase. As she got dressed I went in the shower and let the hot water wash over me as I wondered where on earth was Amanda Casey.

I got out of the shower and shaved then put on a pair of tighty whities. I picked up my cell and called Boston PD and asked for the head of Vice. I was directed to Captain Richard Murphy who picked up on the second ring. “Captain Murphy,” he answered.

“Hello Captain this is Detective Jack Chamberlain of the Portland Maine Police Department. I could use a little information if you don’t mind?”

“Sure Detective,” he answered. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering about local prostitution. Who are the local leaders in the trade so to speak?”

“There are maybe a hundred or so local pimps that operate around the city. Some are loosely tied together through a number of houses.”

“Any ties to organized crime?”

“Not that we can prove. We have an eye on suspected members of both the Irish and Italian families but no direct ties have been established. The Irish families are more established in Boston, Italians lie low here and stick to New York south.”

“Who runs the Irish families?”

“The top man is Carrick Dunne but we haven’t been able to pin anything on him. From the outside he looks like a well-established businessman. He owns property and several art galleries throughout the city. Why all the interest from a Maine Dick?”

“We have had an increase in prostitution in Portland and I am just trying to get a handle on where these girls might be coming from and Boston is the largest city close to us. Doesn’t he own the Golden Banana?”

“Yes he does, bought it for a song a few years ago. Place was falling down and he’s refurbished the whole place.”

“Looks great, I stopped by today and met with an old friend, Jake Simpson.”

“I know Jake, great guy lives right here in the city. So you’re in town then?”

“Technically on vacation but crime never sleeps.”

“I hear you. How long are you in the city?”

“At least a week, we are going to do the tourist thing, maybe catch a game.”

“I have great seats for the Detroit series behind the Red Sox dugout, maybe I can hook you up with a couple of tickets if you’re interested,”

“That would be fantastic, just two is all we need. How can I get them?”

“They’re for Tuesday night so come by the precinct and I’ll leave them with the Sergeant.”

“Appreciate that and thank you for the information,” I said as I hung up the phone.

Claire came out of the bathroom having put on just a hint of make-up and lipstick. She wore a tight white blouse with a just above the knee black fabric skirt. A pair of sleek wide heeled black leather knee high boots finished off the professional but very attractive attire. “Who was that?” she asked.

“Boston Vice, Captain Murphy. He was kind enough to give us tickets for the game day after tomorrow.”

“Sweet, I haven’t been to Fenway since I was a little girl.”

“You look fantastic. I almost wish we didn’t have to go to see Chuck.”

“Thanks,” she said as she turned for me making my face feel hot. “You’re blushing.”

“No, I have a condition, one of many. I’m beginning to think you’re the chief cause of at least several of them.”

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