In six months, he’d only fucked her half a dozen times and never in the vagina. He found women’s sexual parts strangely disconcerting. He didn’t like seeing them, touching them or smelling them. He preferred other orifices for his pleasure. The buggerings he’d given her had been vigorous, leaving her bleeding and sore each time. His cock wasn’t very large but he enjoyed hammering it in. There were times he privately wondered if he wasn’t gay, but he didn’t think so. Men were hairy and ugly… he liked his lovers to have soft skin, with big tits and heavily lipsticked mouths. If that wasn’t straight, he didn’t know what was.
Armitage felt his orgasm building and he reached out to grab hold of the secretary’s hair. She squealed in pain as he rammed her mouth down to the base of his cock. He held her there, hearing her nostrils flare as she tried to breathe, until his shaft started to spasm. He shot the first part of his load deep down her throat and then released her. She pulled back, gasping and wheezing. Armitage pointed his cock at her and caught her on the chin with his second spurt. The third was smaller and weaker, trickling out onto her blouse.
Lacy made a disgusted face. She hated when he stained her clothes. Not only did it leave a noticeable wet spot that everyone could see but it also made it hard to explain when she got home. She’d run out of excuses about spilling drinks, ink, or whatever she could think of.
Armitage stood up and put away his shriveling member. He tossed a tissue at Lacy but made no move to help her up. After taking a sip of his coffee, he muttered an oath and slid it across the desk. “My coffee’s cold. Fetch me another cup.”
The humiliated woman kept her eyes down but was unable to hide how much she hated him at the moment. Armitage just grinned but his smile faded quickly when the door to his office burst open. Violet Cambridge stepped in, her handgun clutched tightly in one black-gloved hand.
Lacy stood there with mouth agape but Violet gestured for her to leave. “Get out of here, honey, but don’t you dare call the cops. Understand?”
The frightened secretary nodded, glancing back at Armitage. A part of her hoped this stranger would blow a hole through her boss’s head… but another part of her knew how much her family needed the money. She hurried out, unsure which side carried greater weight.
“What the hell do you want?” Armitage growled, keeping his bluster. He tried to move towards his desk, where an automatic was kept taped to the underside of the chair, but Violet cocked her pistol and he froze in place.
“Did you kill Miles? Answer me truthfully.”
The look of genuine shock that registered on the crime boss’ face was disappointing to Violet. She’d hoped he was involved somehow… not only would it have put a bow on the case but it would have given her an excuse to kill him. “Your partner’s dead? When did that happen?”
“Last night.” Violet lowered her weapon. She only had half an hour before McKenzie was supposed to come knocking on her door. “What about your goons? You have somebody on your payroll who might have thought he was doing you a favor by striking at Miles?”
“None of my boys would have whacked him. I had no problem with Knopf. He was a right guy…” Armitage sneered, “…aside from his choice in dames to partner up with, that is.” He gestured towards the chair. “Can I sit?”
“Only if you keep your hands where I can see them.”
Armitage took a seat and reached for some cigarette papers and tobacco. He rolled one without asking Violet if she wanted one for herself. After lighting it, he sat back, causing the chair to creak under his weight. “Well now, isn’t this interesting… I hear you’ve been having some money problems. Think maybe Miles got himself killed by someone he owed a debt to?”
Violet frowned. Did everyone in town know about their money problems? How had she missed this? “If I knew who killed him, I wouldn’t be here, you idiot.”
“Maybe I can help you find who did this.”
“And why would you do that? Out of the goodness of your heart?”
With a sneer, Armitage replied, “Not quite. You cost me a lot of money and I don’t forgive easily… but you’re good at what you do. Maybe now that your business has gone south, you can come work for me. Tail some people, get ’em to tell you their secrets, the kinda thing you do now. Me helping you with this Knopf situation, that would be the kick-off to our new relationship.”
“I don’t work with scum. But thanks for the offer.” Violet spun about and left the office door swinging open. She was angry with herself for having stormed over here with no proof. It was an amateur move and she was better than this. She locked eyes with Armitage’s secretary on the way out and she saw the dull ache in the woman’s expression. There was a dark stain on the woman’s blouse. The look in the secretary’s eyes was proof enough that allying with Armitage would never work. He was a human leech, sucking the life right out of people.
She walked two blocks over, striding straight into the lobby of Century Tower. It was a very expensive hotel, one of the tallest in Atlanta, and it was the address that Abby Whitehead had given her. She found a dark-haired fop working the desk. He greeted her in a prissy manner that she found annoying.
“I’m looking for one of your guests. Her name’s Whitehead.”
“Ah, I know Miss Whitehead. Unfortunately, she’s not a guest at this hotel.”
“You mean she’s checked out?”
“No. I mean what I said. She is not a guest here and never has been.”
“Then how do you know her?”
The desk clerk smiled, showing off very white teeth. “She frequents one of the nightclubs that I do.”
“And what nightclub is that?”
He looked her up and down, frowning at her black clothing. “No place you’d ever be invited, dearie.”
Violet leaned across the desk, keeping her face neutral. Her voice, however, was so sharp that it could have cut glass. “Tell me how you know her or I’ll crawl over there and turn you into a girl. Got me?”
The suddenly alarmed fop tugged on his shirt, nodding. “Sure, sure. No need to get nasty. The club is called Topaz. It caters to… unusual tastes… in its clientele.”
Violet’s eyes narrowed. “Bondage?”
“Some of that, yeah.”
Something began to click in Violet’s head and it wasn’t pleasant. “Abby Whitehead have a sister that you know of? A younger girl named Maggie?”
The fop chuckled. “Dear, oh dear. Maggie is her stage name. She does look younger with the right makeup and hairstyle, though. You a fan of her act?”
“I’ve seen pictures.”
“If I liked women, I’d be all over her.” The fop lowered his voice when another guest glanced in their direction. “But she’s not staying here. She lives with her manager.”
Violet repeated the address that Abby had given her for Sidney Morehouse. The fop confirmed that was the place.
On the way back home, Violet’s mind was racing. Abby Whitehead had come to their office and spun a bundle of lies… Why? What did she gain by claiming to have a younger sister? Was it all a setup to get Miles and her on the case, so they could be bumped off? If that was the case, it seemed strange that she would have given any truthful information at all. Then again, she probably assumed that both Miles and Violet would be dead soon, rendering their knowledge moot.