Lust and Lies 04 - Pretty Maids in a Row

gotta promise to forget where you heard it. I mean, if I wanted to risk gettin' killed for openin' my mouth, I'd of gone to the police."
    "I don't reveal my sources but if you're that worried about it, why tell me?"
    Cinnamon studied her decoratively painted nails a moment before answering. "Because it's driving me crazy to keep it inside. And Nikki Farris was my friend."
    "Was?"
    "Yeah, was... as in no longer is alive to be anybody's friend. She was beaten to death and left in a garbage dumpster about a year ago. Word is she was tortured some, too, but that didn't make the local papers. They said there were no clues. What the hell do the police care if some hooker gets herself killed anyway? They figure it's one of the hazards of the trade."
    "I gather you think Mick D'Angelo had something to do with your friend's murder."
    "I don't just think. The night she was killed, she had a job with him. He was gonna make her a star. See, she really wanted to be an actress. I know, you've heard that one before. Well, in Nikki's case, she wanted it bad enough to do anything that might open a door for her. Porn flicks are Mick's main business. I'm not talking about X-rated stuff you can rent at your local video store. He doesn't touch anything that legitimate. His specialty is kinky porn—the kind you have to know somebody to get hold of, and it costs big bucks to even get a peek at it."
    "Children?"
    "And animals, torture, you name it. Besides Nikki wantin' to call herself an actress, she had a coke habit that hookin' alone couldn't pay for. The kind of stuff Mick produces pays well enough for some girls to go along with all kinds of shit. Nikki told me about one film they made where they faked a virgin sacrifice on a stone slab, phony blood and all. Another time she showed up at my apartment with a black eye and a swollen lip. She said one of the actors had gotten carried away with his role, and she hadn't ducked fast enough. I'm positive her death was a result of one of those films."
    "You mean she might have been accidentally killed?"
    "Maybe not so accidentally. Maybe D'Angelo did a real snuff film—not a mock-up."
    David felt his pulse race with anticipation. This wasn't what he had set out to find, but it could be even better. "Have you heard of anything like that being for sale? I don't know that much about it, but I would assume it would be worth a small fortune if the owner wanted to part with it. Although I can't imagine anybody being stupid enough to hold on to a video of an actual murder."
    "Mick's greed is a lot bigger than his brain. The grapevine says he's got a very special product—an original film, with a price tag that he could retire on."
    "Shit." David uttered the one syllable while his mind raced over the possibilities. There was no question as to whether he would follow it up, only how to proceed. "Could you help establish me as a buyer?"
    "Not directly, but you've already made it known around town that you're lookin' for Mick. You just haven't asked the right question to the right person. Tomorrow night go to the Peacock Lounge near the University of Miami. One of Mick's scouts hangs out there solicitin' talent from the co-eds. If you bring up Mick's name to one of the bartenders there, his scout'll find you. You can figure how to play it after that. Don't pretend to be anybody but who you are, though. Mick's probably already heard about you and checked your background by now."
    "You think he'd buy the idea of a reporter looking to agent a lucrative deal for a politician?"
    "Honey, I'd believe anything you told me when you bat those eyelashes of yours. Just don't be surprised if the scout propositions you as part of the deal."
    "One more thing. Do you have a picture of Nikki Farris? If there is a film, and I do get to view it, I need to know who I'm looking for."
    She took him by her apartment and gave him a photo of her and Nikki. Before leaving, he counted out one hundred dollars for her time.
    "There's a little time left on the clock." She wet her lips and moved closer. "I'd hate to think you didn't get your money's worth."
    He chucked her under the chin and grinned. "Aah, but then I couldn't say I'd never paid for it, could I?"
    She shrugged her shoulders and headed for the door with her dignity intact. "It's your loss, honey. Okay, take me back to the restaurant. There's still plenty of good workin' hours left tonight."
    The ability to improvise in almost any situation was one of the