LaToya: Episode XXI – Mysterious Club

 

 

A little after 12 noon the following day, I drove out to Quentin Powell’s house. The Mexican lady who opened the door showed me into the lounge and said she would ask if Mr. Powell was free to see me.

I waited half an hour before Mr. Powell appeared, in a light-blue pyjamas. He still looked drunk, but at least he had shaved and bathed.

“You again,” he said, and labored across the carpet to the drinks cabinet. “Vodka, or do you want something softer, like Pepsi?”

I said Pepsi sounded right.

He poured himself a Vodka, placed it on the small table near his armchair, and went to the refrigerator in his kitchen. From there he brought a can of Pepsi, came back to the lounge, and handed it to me with a hand as shaky as the fresh cassava leaf. Then he sank into the armchair, took a swig from his glass of Vodka, shuddered and closed his eyes.

“To hell with sunlight and early callers like you, Mr. Emeka,” he said mournfully. “I sometimes wish I lived in the moon, where nobody will bother me. Have you ever thought of living on the moon, Mr. Emeka?”

“Nope,” I replied.

He stared up at me and shrugged.

“Well, I had,” he said. “Just think of how isolated you will be from this crazy world, especially from early callers like you.”

He took another drink, then asked, “So, what is it this time?”

“You are a member of the Golden Triangle club, aren’t you?”

He looked surprised.

“That’s right,” he said. “Why?”

“I want you to take me there tonight,” I said.

He gaped at me, then smiled before setting his glass down on the table at his side.

“I applaud your boldness, Emeka,” he said. “So you want me to take you to the Golden Triangle club, don’t you?”

“I hope I’m not asking for too much,” I said. “But I do…”

“You are damn right,” he said. “Your request is both outrageous and out of line.”

“It’s just that…”

“Mr. Emeka, what makes you imagine for one moment that I want to take you to the Golden Triangle nightclub tonight? I don’t want to sound mean, but let’s be reasonable here. I met you for the first time in my damn life just yesterday. And now you are suggesting that I should take you to the most expensive nightclub in Alexandra and spend my good money on you? No offense, Mr. Emeka, but when I go out and spend my money, I prefer to spend it on a girl with fat ass who will be duty bound to give me at least a blowjob in return. See what I mean?”

I laughed.

“What you said makes a lot of sense, Mr. Powell,” I said. “I will do the same thing too, but this is business and important. I have reason to think Leisha  York has been murdered.”

He spilled some of the Vodka on his pyjamas, but he didn’t even notice.

“What do you mean, murdered?”

“You heard me right,” I said. “Murdered. It’s important I get into the Golden Triangle nightclub and take a look around. And you are the only person I know in Alexandra who is a member. You will be doing both the Baltimore City Police and the Alexandra Police a service if you’d take me tonight.”

He stared down at the carpet while he thought. From the expression on his face, I could tell that the whole idea is certainly difficult for him.

“You mean a member of the Golden Triangle nightclub killed her?”

“That is possible,” I said.

I almost asked him to give me a description of Saul Bolton but decided against it. He would probably jump to the conclusion that I thought Saul Bolton had killed the girl. If he spread that rumor in Alexandra, I knew I would be in real trouble.

“I don’t buy the idea of me taking you to the Golden Triangle, Mr. Emeka,” he said, shaking his head. “It wouldn’t be good for you or for me, and I’ll tell you why. I go to the Golden Triangle pretty often, but I’ve never taken a man there as my guest. Not once. There’s a bouncer on the club’s door who’s about the toughest guy I’ve ever run into. If you don’t want to look suspicious, you won’t go to the Golden Triangle with me. Am I making any sense?”

“The problem,  Mr. Powell, is that this is a very urgent issue,” I said. “If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have come to you.”

He thought some more, the snapped his fingers.

“I think I’ve found a way to help you with this,” he said. “I’ll ask Latasha to take you. She is a member of Golden Triangle nightclub, and she’s always taking her boy friends there. Would that be okay?”

“I’m okay with it,” I said. “But I had the impression she didn’t like me. So, I don’t think she will play ball here.”

Mr. Powell waved a shaky hand.

“You will be surprised,” he said. “You don’t really know Latasha very well. She’ll take you. She’s always enjoy meeting new men, especially if they have plenty of dough to spend. You leave it to me. I’ll take care of it. I hope you have enough dough to spend on her?”

I stared at him.

“Sure,” I said. “I think I can handle that. Is it going to cost a lot?”

He laughed loudly; a sound that would have made Mr. Sessoms’ blood run cold if he could have heard it.

“That’s the strangest question I’ve ever heard. Cost you a lot” I’ll say it will, You don’t take Latasha out unless you are prepared to sell your car and empty your bank balance. That’s why I see her here. Taking her out is a luxury I can’t afford.”

“Well, I guess I have no choice,” I said. “You go ahead and arrange it. It’s one of the reasons I have an expense sheet.”

“It’s a deal then,” he said and reached for the telephone.

 

 

 

END OF EPISODE 21

P.S. Stay tuned for Episode 22, which  will be published here next Sunday.